Passion's Mistral by Charlotte Boyett-Compo Read Free Book Online Page A

into the other room for the room-service menu. All she really
    wanted to do was lie there until morning but her tummy was growling and she knew she’d come down
    with a hunger headache if she didn’t eat.
    The food sounded wonderful and made her choices exceedingly hard and by the time she picked up the
    receiver and dialed room service, her mouth was beginning to water.
    “Yes, this is Miss Trevor in the Forest Suite. Could I have you send up a proscuitto with provolone and
    watercress on rye with dill mustard, a bowl of tomato bisque soup and a small Greek salad with lots of
    feta, black olives and pepperoncinis? I’d also like a carafe of white zinfandel—peach-flavored if you
    have it—and a small bowl of tropical fruit slices for dessert.”
    With her order made, Silkie reclined once more on the soft, encompassing bed and closed her eyes. The
    sweet scent of gardenia wafted under her nostrils and she sighed deeply.
    When the discreet knock came at her door, she hated to get up. Struggling to push her way from the
    seductive mattress, she padded barefoot to the parlor door and opened it with a slight smile that froze in
    place as she stared at the room-service attendant.
    He was tall—well over six-foot—with a naked chest full of curling black hair that accentuated six-pack
    abs and chiseled pecs. His bulging biceps flexed as he stood there with her tray in his strong-looking
    hands. The black silk britches covering his long legs and narrow hips molded to him like a second skin.
    Barefoot, he was standing with those long legs spread in a posture that was sensuous and threatening at
    the same time.
    “Ah, would you put the tray on the table?” Silkie asked, stepping back. Her gaze was locked on the silk
    mask tied around the top part of his face, hiding his hair and nose yet calling attention to piercing eyes
    that seemed to look straight into her soul.
    His derriere was curved nicely high and looked rock-hard as he walked past her. Broad shoulders
    enveloped in a golden tan tapered down to a slim waist, hugged lovingly by the elastic band holding up
    the britches. The pull of the silk britches against his taut thighs and hips made her want to run her hands
    down his legs. As he bent over to place the tray on the table by the windows, she drew in a slow breath
    as the fabric molded itself to his lean posterior. When he turned to face her, his hands hanging loosely at
    his sides, the thick bulge at the juncture of his legs drew her immediate attention. It was all she could do
    to drag her eyes from that enticing sight. The only visible mark on that superb body had been a long,
    upwardly slanting scar on his back just under his left rib cage. Having seen a similar scar on a client, she
    wondered if this gorgeous specimen had been the giver or recipient of a donated kidney.
    “Thank you,” she said, wishing she had a name for this delectable hunk.
    A slight bow of his head was his acknowledgement of her gratitude. He seemed to be waiting for any
    instructions she might have and when she remained silent, he started toward her, his dark eyes glistening
    behind the slits of the mask.
    Silkie had the urge to place her hands against that hairy chest and waylay this mysterious man. Her palms
    actually itched from the mental push to do just that and she had to rub them down her slacks to wipe
    away the moisture gathering there. Unconsciously, she licked her upper lip as he passed. At the door, he
    turned, his head cocked to one side as though in question.
    “Ah, no,” she whispered then had to clear her throat and speak louder. “No, that will be all.”
    He seemed to sigh, his wide chest rising and falling in a brief movement that set Silkie’s breasts to tingling.
    With one final bow of his head, he left the room, leaving behind an aura that brought a flush to the young
    woman’s face and set her juices to flowing between her legs.
    “Damn,” she whispered. She had a feeling she was going to be sorry she’d