When Cort arrived, the pool area was unoccupied. He looked again at his watch, exactly two o'clock. A small table was set with a pitcher of Blood Marys, two glasses, and a plate of cheese and crackers. He sat on one of the chaise lounges flanking the table.

Cort waited impatiently while feigning interest in the aqua blue water smelling of chlorine, probably too much chlorine, and the black and white striped cabana. He looked at his watch again and again. Two-fifteen. His worried that she wasn't going to show up at all or that he had the day or time wrong. The note said "tomorrow." What if it had been delivered on the wrong day and she really meant tomorrow instead of today. If she didn't show up by two thirty, he'd leave. He recalled she had been "fashionably late" to the luncheon. He'd give her until two forty-five to show up. Or maybe he'd give her to three o'clock...but not a second later. The ice was melting in the pitcher of Bloody Marys. He needed one now but was afraid to pour. What if he wasn't supposed to be there and they were meant for someone else or--

"Hello, Cort." Zoe stood in the doorway of the cabana, one hand held back the striped curtain that had concealed her presence.

Cort's heart did a somersault. She was magnificent, and was wearing the tiniest bikini he had ever seen. It was just a bunch of black strings woven together to barely conceal her nipples and the treasure between her legs. How in the hell did she expect him to discuss business with her dressed, almost dressed, in that swimsuit. Bam. He felt a blow to his solar plexus. Maybe they weren't going to discuss business. Maybe they were going to discuss something else. No, couldn't be. Stop imagining the impossible.

Zoe walked over and slid into a chaise lounge. The only thing between them was the small round table and a pitcher of Bloody Marys. Even from this distance and outdoors he could smell her exotic scent.

"I thought it would be more pleasant to discuss our business at the pool." She rolled to her side and looked at Cort. "Don't you agree?" Her breasts were spilling out of the bikini top.

Agree? At that moment, he would agree to anything. Cort managed to croak a single word. "Yes."

She uncrossed her leg. The tiny bikini bottom pulled away and Cort could see a few strands of curly hair. He hoped the sunglasses prevented her from seeing that his eyes were on her mount of Venus, a source of pleasure for her and, please, for him. His gaze roamed over her stomach, flat and hard, to her luscious breasts. A rose colored nipple peaked out above the miniscule black triangle masquerading as half of a bikini top. He fought back the tingling in his groin by doing a math problem in his head.

"Would you like to pour?" she asked in that hypnotic, musical voice.

After taking a couple of deep breaths, Cort stood and poured the red liquid into two crystal glasses garnished with celery stalks. He handed a glass to Zoe and watched what her arm movements did to the muscles in her breasts. Embarrassed that she might notice him staring at her breasts, he looked into her eyes. It seemed she was staring at his groin. He quickly did another math problem, sat on the chaise, and leaned back. Was that natural curiosity on her part? Or was she coming on to him? He wished he had more experience with women.

Zoe slid her sunglasses to the tip of her nose; her gorgeous amber eyes looked over the top of them. "How do you stay in such great shape?"

Cort could feel her gaze touching his groin, and making him hard. It was too late for math to stop this reaction. Cort threw the towel over his lap.

"Don't cover yourself on my account." Zoe's tongue flickered from her mouth like a rattlesnake warning its prey. She tugged at the corner of the towel until it fell away and revealed him in full erection. The skimpy trunks couldn't contain all his manhood and half stuck out above the top of his suit. He groaned.

Zoe got up and stood over him. "Umm. I notice your chest is getting red. Let me rub sun block on you." She poured a white lotion in the palm of her hand and rubbed it on the top of his chest beginning in short strokes, then lengthening the strokes until they grazed the tip of his erection. He writhed. She laughed. "Shall we retire to the cabana." She stood up. "It's more private, if you know what I mean and--"