Slammed Read Online Free PDF

brushed a little color on her cheeks, added a few swipes of mascara to her lashes and then used a peachy lip gloss. Good enough. Now to find the restaurant.
    She perused the directory in her room and located La Terrasse on the main floor, to the right of the reception desk. She could find that.
    Dylan stood at the entrance to the restaurant, waiting for her. She took in his beige pants, the fitted white shirt that he wore untucked with the cuffs turned back on his strong forearms. He turned as she approached, his dark hair falling across his forehead, his hands in his pockets. She caught the flash of surprise on his face when he saw her.
    “What was that look for?” she asked. She looked down at herself. “Am I dressed okay for here?”
    “Yeah.” He blinked. “Hell yeah. You look gorgeous.” He frowned. “I don’t remember you being gorgeous in high school.”
    She rolled her eyes. “You sweet talker, you.”
    “I didn’t mean to be insulting! I just mean, why didn’t I notice you more in high school?”
    “You were too busy fending off all the other girls who were after you.”
    “Oh. Well, yeah, there is that.”
    She shook her head, smiling reluctantly.
    “I guess you weren’t one of those girls.”
    “As if.” He would never have noticed her.
    His mouth tightened a little, but he set a hand on the small of her back to guide her into the restaurant.
    “Good evening, Mr. Schell,” the hostess said, with a flick of her eyes at Brooke. “We have your table ready.”
    “Your table?” Brooke murmured, following the hostess.
    “I called and booked one for us. It gets busy here the nights the show is on.”
    They were seated at a table for two near the stage, which currently was dark and quiet. Soft music filled the room along with a hushed murmur of voices and clinking cutlery. Strategic lighting provided an atmosphere of intimacy despite the size of the restaurant.
    “Very nice,” she said, pulling her chair in.
    “The food’s amazing too,” he said.
    “You’ve been here before, obviously.”
    He lifted a shoulder. “I come here a few times a year, for the last…shiz, I don’t know how many years. Yeah, I’ve been here before.”
    She looked around, took in the smiling, laughing guests, all of them dressed similarly to her and Dylan, casually but yet with an air of affluence. This was a little out of her league, but she kind of liked it. She picked up her menu and opened it.
    “Is there anything you recommend?” she asked, scanning the selections.
    “Hmm. Well I’m pretty partial to red meat, myself, so I’ll probably go for the Black Angus sirloin. But if you like fish or seafood, I’d suggest the mahi mahi.”
    She nodded and read from the menu. “Mahi mahi with sweet vanilla sauce and pureed sweet potatoes. Vanilla sauce?” She lifted questioning eyes to him. “On fish?”
    “It’s awesome,” he said. “Try it.”
    “Okay.” She looked over the appetizers and desserts too. When their server approached, Dylan ordered a bottle of a New Zealand Sauvignon Blanc.
    “You’re pretty sophisticated for a surfer dude, aren’t you?” she commented once he’d ordered.
    He grinned. “You pick up a few things when you travel around the world constantly. Even though you may think all I do is smoke dope and party.”
    “I didn’t say that’s all you do,” she said, fiddling with her cutlery. “But you have attracted a little attention lately by doing that.”
    “Whatever, dude.”
    Her gaze snapped up to his face. “No, not ‘whatever, dude’,” she said, exaggerating his surfer drawl. “This is serious business, Dylan.”
    “I surf for a living. How serious can that be?”
    She stared at him in frustration. Was he serious? This was how he earned his living. This wasn’t a game or a party or a joke. This was big business. Millions of dollars big.
    But then she saw the way the corners of his mouth dipped down, the shadow that crossed his eyes as he looked away from her.