Read Mr. Romantic: A Mister Standalone (The Mister Series Book 2) for Free Online

before I even get inside. I throw it over the couch, the briefcase follows, and I go to work on my dress shirt.
    Two minutes later I’m wearing swimming trunks and diving into the private pool in front of the cabanas.
    When I come up for air I look straight at Ivy Rockwell in a bright yellow bikini.
    I flash her a Romantic grin out of habit, then catch myself and let it fall into a frown. “I’m glad you’re having a nice afternoon at the resort, Miss Rockwell.”
    She lowers her white sunglasses and peers down her nose at me. “I’m testing out the facilities, Mr. Delaney. The misters are off-target and the pool water is too hot.”
    “Is that so?” I ask, swimming over towards her lounge chair. “Feels good to me.”
    “That’s because you just got out of that stifling suit. But if you were me, sitting in this chair, aching for a refreshing dunk to cool down, you’d know better. Because I was thoroughly disappointed when I dove in ten minutes ago.”
    I stand up in the pool—the depth is only three feet. And as the water rushes down my chest, I don’t miss the fact that her eyes follow those little droplets all the way down to my dick. She recovers quickly, and her eyes find mine again.
    “Furthermore—”
    “Are you trying to impress me with your analysis, Miss Rockwell?”
    “Furthermore,” she repeats, “the AC in my cabana”—she nods her head behind her — “isn’t up to par with what one might expect when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside. It only goes down to sixty-seven.”
    “Sixty-seven isn’t cool enough for you, Miss Rockwell?”
    “Hardly, Mr. Delaney. I’d like it to be sixty-six. But I can’t adjust it. Well, I can. But it doesn’t get any cooler because you have some sort of temperature threshold built in to prevent the AC from making it any cooler.”
    “Did you know that they charge you to use the AC in Paris hotels, Miss Rockwell?”
    “I did, actually. I’ve experienced it first-hand. But we’re not in France, Mr. Delaney. We’re in the United States. And people expect the freedom to choose their own temperature in a five-star hotel room. Especially , ” she continues, “when it’s a hundred and thirteen degrees outside.”
    I walk over to the edge of the pool and lean down, resting my chin on my hands. Her feet are right in front of me. Her little toenails are painted yellow, like she was trying to match her suit.
    My gaze travels up her body, lingering on her legs for a moment, before continuing to her breasts, which are spilling out of her top. She shifts her legs, bending one knee into a sexy scissor arrangement, and stares me down.
    “Energy is expensive, Miss Rockwell.”
    “I realize that, Mr. Delaney. But people expect to be comfortable, whatever that word means to them, when they pay top dollar for a room. So my first suggestions would be to retarget the misters, nix the heaters on the pool at night—it’s simply not necessary since the water can’t possibly cool off enough to matter—and lower the threshold on your AC to sixty-two.”
    “Is that your professional opinion?” I ask.
    “It is.”
    I place my hands flat on the concrete and pull myself up and out of the pool, bringing a rush of water with me that splashes onto her perfectly tanned legs. She has to tilt her head up to me now, and I like the way that makes me feel.
    “Thank you for your suggestions,” I say, grinning that grin that drives women crazy. “I’m going to take care of this immediately.”
    “It was my pleasure to help, Mr. Delaney,” she calls. “That’s why I’m here.”
    I shoot her a look over my shoulder and shake my head.
    Don’t do it, Nolan. Don’t start fantasizing about your face between her legs. She’s going home tomorrow no matter what.
     

Chapter Six - Ivy
     

    Holy shit. I did it. I stood up for myself and made an impression on Nolan Delaney. My heart is beating so fast, I need a moment to calm down.
    “Miss Rockwell?”
    Claudette’s