Tired of staring into the crystal-clear turquoise water before her, Ali adjusted her sunglasses and caught a glimpse of the new pool boy. If she weren't so bored with this resort, he might be worth playing with for a while. She bit her lip with indecision, a quirk that used to drive her ex-husband crazy.

A wicked smile graced her lips. Jack wouldn't have the opportunity to deal with her bad habits anymore. The day she'd walked in on him and his secretary half-naked and sprawled across his office desk together, there had been n74o need to think over her decision. She had taken him straight to the cleaners, getting the house, the jet, his favorite car—everything possible from a marriage with no prenup, right down to a set of antique silver napkin rings. Most of it, including those napkin rings, sat boxed up in her five-car garage, gathering dust.

She had boxed up her heart as well. Sealed it with a tight lid, locked it in a safe, and hidden it in a deep, dark corner where no one could ever touch it again. At only twenty-four years old, she wasn't about to put herself on a shelf. Instead, she focused her attention away from anything resembling a relationship and considered only temporary connections with the potential for pure pleasure. With a little help from her friends, she'd discovered how easy it was to seduce a man, get what she wanted, and get away. She'd burned through a ski instructor, two personal trainers, a wannabe rock star, a few waiters, a race car driver and his mechanic, plus a litany of pool boys.

In fact, she was getting too good at it. The exchanges were too easy, too bland. They'd lost their thrill, and she'd needed to spice things up again. The solution came when she'd toyed with the wannabe rock star and made him sing for her attention. From then on, each conquest became a game where she'd devise a different rule for each round.

In the pool, a father tossed a neon pink frisbee over the heads of his three curly-haired children. Squeals of laughter permeated the air as they took turns diving for it. Even with the happy hollers interrupting the usually tranquil atmosphere of her favorite home away from home, lounging here surrounded by nameless guests was preferable to the echoing silence of her empty mansion.

The youngest child missed the disk and it skidded across the pool deck, sputtering to a stop at the pool boy's feet. In one swift motion, he bent down, plucked up the ring, and returned it to the child. Well-defined shoulder muscles rippled in response to his movements, and Ali curled her fingers around her sunglasses as a thrill sizzled along her spine.

He stood up, turned to face her, and revealed a superbly defined six-pack.

She stopped biting her lip. Decision made.

Her anticipation spiked as she pondered what rules she would apply to this round of the game.

Ali began her seduction by swinging her legs off the lounge chair and leaving the shade of her umbrella to position herself in the mid-afternoon California sunshine. In a practiced move, she withdrew the clip from her hair, and with a slow head shake, let her long raven locks cascade down her toned shoulders. The pool furniture squeaked as she stretched out on her hands, arched her back, and put her best assets—her breasts—on full display. Unlike many others in this swanky, overpriced resort, her ample breasts were one-hundred percent authentic. With intent, she angled herself into her target's line of sight, turned her head toward him, and smiled.

Ali could tell she had his attention when he tripped over a non-existent crack in the pavement. Of course, it was hard not to notice her. The bright red bikini she wore today shocked against her alabaster skin she was careful never to expose to too much sun. Her lipstick—flown in specially from Paris—perfectly matched the fabric.

The last time she'd run out of this color, Ali had wanted Brenda, her best and oldest friend, to fly to France on the weekend to purchase more. Neither Brenda nor the other women in her circle were available, far too busy with a husband-required high-society dinner. She'd dreaded the idea of eight hours alone on her private jet. In the end, she'd said screw it, it's only money, and sent her personal shopper there and back in a day to collect two tubes. That night, she'd walked into the glamourous gala alone and undaunted. The perfect Parisian lipstick made her blue eyes pop, and her figure-enhancing, one-of-a-kind gown had made every man want to be on her arm—taken or not.

Now Ali licked those ruby red lips, secure in the knowledge she had the pool boy on her hook.

She removed her sunglasses, setting them on the lounge before sauntering seductively away from him, toward the private cabanas.

Three of the tented structures in a row at this resort were hers, allowing her the privilege of keeping other hotel guests out of her business. The privacy screens were down, and she headed for the side entrance of the middle one. As she stepped into the shade, Ali brushed aside the billowy white curtain and turned back to the pool boy.

His golden hair shimmered in the sun as he strode her way, pausing only for a moment to pick up her sunglasses. The flying fabric of the cabana concealed her as she turned and waited for him.

It didn't take long for him to catch up. When a capable, bronzed hand drew back the material, her skin prickled with an electric charge that stirred a desire long dormant. The wait was worth the sight before her.

Ali admired her catch. His toned features reminded her of Olympic swimmers: lean and long and just the right type of muscular build. Not so big that when he finally got on top of her, she might get crushed. Glossy hair hung in front of his copper-flecked green eyes, shaded by long black lashes. He was a few inches taller than her, forcing her to tilt her head back to look at him.

A deep voice drew her attention to his mouth. "Your sunglasses."

"Why thank you," she said sweetly, cocking her head. "How ever can I repay you?"

He ran his fingers through his wavy hair and responded with a wide grin that revealed a small dimple. Ali's stomach did a little flip. This would be worth the effort after all. She used her forefinger to make a come-hither sign and backed into her cabana. He followed with a greedy glint in his eyes.

The inside of the cabana was quiet and cool. His tanned, glistening skin stood in stark contrast to the cloud-like blanched furniture, the room all white cloth and glowing, snowy tiles. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn't resist reaching across the slight distance separating them and touching his upper body.

When she made contact, a slight shock singed the pad of her finger. His body was warm from the sun. With slow intent, she traced the slight indent down the center of his chest, enjoying the way his muscles tensed at her touch. His stare followed her finger as it traveled between the lines of his abs and tucked into the waistband of his swim shorts. She ran a lazy finger along the material to the depression of his hip bone, pulled at the elastic, and let go, resulting in a snap against his taut skin.

His soft chuckle filled the air. The light, playful sound made her wonder what she could do to make him really laugh.

His voice shattered the fantasy. "I'm—"

She settled two fingers over his mouth and mimicked the gesture on her own lips, signaling there would be no more speaking. This would be the rule of the game. They would remain total strangers with everything done in silence. That is, until she made him cry out in pleasure.

He nodded in quick understanding. Did he play games often, too? She pivoted and walked over to the bed, pushing the question aside. What he did before or after didn't matter. Only this moment when he was hers counted.

Her fingers patted the empty space beside her on the mattress as an invitation. To her amusement, he strolled over, not too eagerly, and settled in. Ali made a pretense of getting more comfortable by shaking out her hair, which really gave her a reason to jiggle her breasts in his face. Usually, at this point, men took that as a "go" signal and dove right into them.

This man only smiled, enjoying the show but making no move.

Hi there.  D. L Croisette here. Thank you so much for reading the first chapter of my first book. I appreciate that you got here and I hope you're excited about continuing.

Now, let's see what's going on with Ali and her pool boy...