Taming Triton - Southern Cross #2
Publisher: White Deer Enterprises/White Deer Books
Austin Michaels accepts his brother’s standing invitation for a Caribbean vacation at his island resort. Some time in the sun is just what he needs to map out a plan for his future. He gets lucky and meets a handsome teacher willing to have a little vacation fling with, as long as they can keep things fun.
Steve Guthrie’s secret longings have haunted him all his life. It’s time to face his questions and find the truth of who he really is beyond a staid college professor. His love of the sea prompts him to take a vacation at a Caribbean hide-a-way for relaxation and reflection. A sexy stranger with a tattoo tempts Steve to abandon his plans, enticing him to share a vacation romp.
Now Steve’s the student in a high stakes class of one, and to pass the course, he has to tame his very own Triton.
* * *
I rounded the corner and stopped. Austin sat on the edge of the stone planter box, feet dangling, clutching a brown paper bag with the neck of a wine bottle sticking out the top.
“Surprise,” Austin said meekly, holding up his offering.
Raising my eyebrow, I held my hand out for the bottle. It was an expensive label, one I’d always wanted to try, but shied away from because of its cost. What did he do for a living that he could afford it?
“What surprise? That you’re half an hour early and waiting on me? Wrong. It’s no surprise at all.” I swiped my keycard and opened the door. Austin didn’t move. “Are you coming in?”
He hopped off the planter and followed me inside to the obscene luxury of the suite. I’d really splurged on my accommodations, or so I thought. That bottle Austin had said maybe I was in the slum section of the resort.
My little suite had a king-size bed with linens so soft and smooth that last night I easily imagined I slept on clouds. An amazing spa bathroom housed a tub big enough for four large men, a gas fireplace for when you were hosting a party in that fiberglass pool, and a shower with twelve—count ’em twelve—pulsating showerheads. Total climate control was possible, or all the windows and skylights opened to allow the breeze through. The high-definition television had a satellite hookup with a full sports channel package, and an equally state-of-the-art sound system provided the complete spectrum of music at the push of a few buttons.
I also had a copy of the extensive wine list and menu, and nowhere did that high-end winery appear.
“So, Austin, where’d you get the wine?”
His mouth dropped open, and the hand not clutching the bottle clutched at his chest. “Wine? I gasp at the audacity of your words! This is not just wine—it’s the nectar of the gods.”
“I’ve heard about this Bordeaux, you know. Is this part of some after-dinner seduction plan?”
Austin tilted his head and flashed me a sly grin. “Don’t you want to be seduced?”