So I screwed up my courage and approached the dude behind the concierge desk.He looked like a caricature of an island creole, right down to his shaven...head. He was a good looking guy, tall and whip slender. And he certainly didn’t seem like a concierge. He had his feet up on the desk. He was dressed in a tropical print shirt that was opened to his navel. And he had on a ratty pair of boat shorts with flip-flops. He looked happy. Maybe it was something in the air. Or maybe he saw me as a. Once outside the door, I said, "Mike, you perv, stop looking at me likethat." Like what." Like you just won the lottery."He laughed. "I won the bet, ya know. To the victor goes the spoils." Don't even think it."He opened the passenger door to his Mustang and reached out to take myhand to "help" me into the car. I pointedly ignored his grasping paw andplopped down on the seat by myself. I purposefully fought against my"Tasha" instincts because I had no desire to display feminine grace forMike.. More

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