Renard Glace's resort is the highlight of Sloane's Men of Alaska tour. Ren is handsome, rich, available, and a fellow fox shifter. He flirts with every woman, including plus-size her, and she knows not to take him seriously.
Ren may flirt outrageously with everyone else, but his intentions toward Sloane are till-death-do-us-part serious. He wants her in his bed... permanently, and he plans to turn up the heat during this tour, making his stop her last resort.
"...a fast-paced story that is filled with cute banter and a very steamy sexual encounter between the two main characters. The love scene between Ren and Sloane is sizzling hot."
"Ms. Sax gives the reader a thrilling love story as Sloane blooms as she learns to accept that a man like Renard can love a woman like her... that he loves every curve on her body."
-- 4.5 Stars from Candy, Sensual Reads
Foxy: Last Resort
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2012 Cynthia Sax
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The bus jerked to a stop. "Thank you, Dave." For not crashing us into a pole like you did at the last resort. She patted the driver's arm. "Ladies, if you'll follow me. Your suitcases have been tagged and will be taken to your rooms." Sloane waited by the bus, her practical pumps covered with snow, her animal embracing the cold.
"Renard is such an usual name, isn't it?" Annabelle, a willowy Texan socialite, wrinkled her perfect nose. "Though I suppose it could be changed." She tilted her head.
Sloane's lips twitched. "It's an old family name." And it declared to the world what he was, what both of them were -- fox shifters. "I believe he's quite attached to it."
She waited patiently for the women to disembark. Renard's smartly-attired employees hustled around them, unloading the designer luggage from the bus.
"Are all of the men here rich?" Penny, a tiny bundled-up New Yorker, stared appreciatively at one bent-over bellhop's ass. Her real estate mogul father had sent her on this excursion to separate the blue-collar-man-loving Penny from a fortune-hunting mechanic, charging Sloane with the impossible task of finding his daughter a rich husband.
"Many of the guests are." With the last of her women reaching solid ground, Sloane steered the young woman away from temptation and toward the heat her human needed.
"Good morning, Miss Sloane." The doorman held the door open for them and tipped his hat, his hands clad in black gloves. "Ladies." He winked at Penny and she twittered, turning a pretty pink.
Lord help me. Sloane dragged the woman forward, plastering a smile across her face. A lineup of hotel staff waited inside and even her most jaded guest, an aging Hollywood starlet, appeared impressed. I owe Ren for this.
"Welcome to Last Chance." The man himself strode forward, his broad shoulders clad in a form-fitting black suit, the lights of the massive chandelier softening the starkness of his snow-white hair.
"Miss Sloane." Ren clasped her cold outstretched hand with both of his, sharing his heat, a spark of awareness shooting up her arm. "It has been too long." His dark eyes communicated sincerity. "You look more beautiful with each passing day." He brushed his lips over her knuckles, branding her skin with his mouth. "Is that a new suit?" His dark-eyed gaze swept over her too generous curves.
Sloane fought her attraction, his musky scent driving her fox wild. "It's the same suit I always wear, Mr. Glace." She rolled her eyes at his outrageous flirting. The suit was now a size too small due to the boxes of chocolate caramels he kept sending her.
He chuckled, the sound low and deep. "You wear it well."
I'd like to wear him well. Sloane's face heated at her inappropriate thought. "Let me introduce you to your guests."
She noted how he kissed the women's hands and complimented them, making each woman feel special and needed. It was part of the show, a familiar routine he performed during each of her visits. Flirt with her. Flirt with the guests. It shouldn't affect her.
"And is there a Madame Glace?" Annabelle purred, her blood-red nails raking over Ren's arm.
Mine. Sloane's fox bristled.
"Alas, there is not." Ren extracted himself from the socialite's grip and rested his palm on the small of Sloane's back, his touch thrillingly possessive. "Not yet. There's a female, a woman, I adore." His hand slid lower and Sloane blinked. Is he feeling me up? In the lobby, in front of everyone? "But I don't know if she returns my feelings." He cupped her ass. I should step away from him. I should... He squeezed and she bit her bottom lip, swallowing her gasp. Mother Mary, why is he tormenting me?
"Did you ask her?" The Hollywood starlet pursed her mouth, her liner a shade darker than her lipstick.
"Forget asking her," Penny scoffed, her gaze drifting to the youngest concierge on Ren's staff. "Words are meaningless. Show her how you feel. Seduce her." The concierge's eyes flashed with matching interest.
I'll have to lock her in and put bars on all of her windows. Sloane glowered a silent warning at the impudent young man. He gave her a cocky grin... like his employer.
"Seduce her?" Ren kneaded Sloane's cotton-covered ass and she curled her hands into fists, digging her fingernails into her palm, trying not to squirm. "I could do that."