Chapter 1

                                    

                                              

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.