Bad Boy (An Indecent Proposal) - J.C. Reed Page 0,2

simple room. But it seemed safe and clean—at least I hoped that part was true. It would certainly be more than I could say about the messy life I had left behind in California.

“Hi. My name is Lauren Hanson,” I said to the female receptionist and handed her my passport and credit card. “I booked a room last night.”

“Welcome to Casa Estevan,” the receptionist said in heavily accentuated English. She looked in her forties. Her hair was over-bleached, and her eyebrows looked like they had been tattooed to her forehead. Smiling, she began to type on a computer, and then pushed a few forms and a swipe card over the spotless counter. “This is your room key. Take the stairs to the fifth floor.”

The fifth floor?

My eyes swept over my two heavy suitcases.

It would take me half a night to get them up there.

“Could you get someone to take my bags up to my room?” I asked.

She didn’t even blink as she grabbed the phone. “Sure. I’m going to call one of the boys to help you.” Her phone in hand, she smiled, exposing perfect teeth. “Anything else I can help you with?”

“Er…” I tried not to stare at her eyebrows. Her left one looked way bigger as the right one. It made her look ridiculous. “Can I get some sort of info leaflet?”

“We have none. Sorry.”

“Could you maybe give me some pointers so that I can find my way around here?”

She gave a short, annoyed sigh, then put the phone down. “As you wish.”

I pushed the card into my handbag as I listened to her recalling the hotel’s amenities, making a mental note of the breakfast times and the instructions on how to get to the nearby beach.

“Any more questions?” she asked, her perfectly fake eyebrows slightly raised. As she glanced over my shoulder, I turned to follow her line of vision and noticed that a few guests were waiting for me to finish up.

“I don’t think so,” I said.

“Have a pleasant stay, then.”

“Thank you.” I definitely intended to make sure I did. Whispering a “sorry” to the other guests, I made my way to the staircase, unable to shake off the feeling that maybe I should have bought a travel guide or at least spent more money on a room with wireless internet. What kind of person travels to a foreign country without packing at least a tourist guide?

Yeah, me.

Chapter 2

My room was situated on the fifth floor overlooking a dark side street, but if I leaned over the balcony far enough I could almost glimpse a stretch of the blue ocean.

The afternoon sun seeping through the generous windows cast an orange glow on the white bedspread. Opposite from the single bed was a dressing table and a television set. The bed sheets looked plain but clean enough to sleep in. A narrow door led into a tiny walk-in closet.

This was going to be my home for the next days, maybe even weeks.

It was nothing special.

But it was perfect in its simplicity.

Sighing, I collapsed on the bed and crossed my arms behind the back of my head. I knew then that I shouldn’t have.

The bed—maybe the intimacy it symbolized or the memory of being with him the night before—instantly drew Chase’s face back into my mind, and the mess I was in. I closed my eyes and inhaled a sharp breath, distinctly remembering his lips on mine. They were warm and soft but persistent. His eyes—blue with speckles of gray—reminded me of a dark gray storm hovering over the ocean—wild and untamed.

The knowledge of having been played brought another stab through my chest.

How did that happen?

Because you, Laurie Hanson, have fallen in love with him.

So, his charm had worked on me.

So, I had been stupid enough to believe there could be more between us.

So, he had made me fantasize all the dirty things I wanted him to do to me.

And the final straw—I let him fuck me when I shouldn’t have.

But when the vows include all that crap about respect and the guy claims to want to date you, one would think your new, albeit fake, husband would at least have the decency to be honest about his name.

Who was he?

The question had been haunting me since I figured out Chase Wright wasn’t who he had claimed to be.

Past internet searches had proven he was an actor, but maybe the sites were fake, too. I had no idea if everything was a sham. I had no idea what