Retreat Hell! She Just Got Here by Heatlerh Long

 
     
    Chapter One
     
     
    The toe ring felt damned weird. It rubbed, and despite the clucking of the woman painting her toenails, Jazz couldn’t stop wiggling.
    “Toe rings are sexy, sweetheart. Now sit still.” The chiding voice carried a level of amusement that she didn’t share.
    With a long sigh, Jazz looked away from the fuck me red that the woman, Christine might be her name, applied to her toes, and stared in the mirror. Her normally smooth, even hair cut had been replaced by a mussed mass of curls clinging to her cheeks. Eyeliner magnified her eyes and one of the other women had given her the smoky look , whatever the hell that meant.
    She’d never looked so much like a girl.
    Ever .
    The opulence of the spa matched the refinement of the rest of the Castillo Resort. The feminine reflection staring back at her made it hard to believe she’d arrived that morning in jeans, an old Kiss band T-shirt and sneakers that she’d bought in high school. The whirlwind packing that led to her early morning flight out of Dallas hadn’t left her much time to shop, but everything from the soak in the hot tub, to the hour-long massage, to the hair dresser, personal shopper, makeup artist, and now her nails, all came in the prearranged package.
    Her nails .
    Stealing a second glance at her toes, she swallowed a laugh. The guys would be hooting if they could see Gunnery Sergeant Winters wiggling long, toes against the plush foot rest. Her legs were waxed smooth along with every other part of her body except her bikini area. When the spa technician suggested it and came at her with wax, Jazz had threatened to put her down like a two-hundred-pound trainee.
    She’d earned her sergeant stripes and she wasn’t kidding.
    “There, all done. Now sit here for a few more minutes, dear, and we’ll take you back so you can change.” Christine patted her leg in an almost motherly fashion, before rising to clean up her tools. Sinking back in the massage chair, Jazz studied her reflection in the mirror. She was that sexy thing the men loved to swap tales about late under the cover of darkness to disguise the urge to go home. She saw exactly what she’d hoped—a woman. Not a sergeant.
    Not a Marine.
    Her fingers were painted the same sexy shade of red. A set of acrylic tips camouflaged her squared off and blunt nails. Nothing could hide the calluses on her palms, worn grooves from years of handling weapons and driving. But the nails definitely added a level of feminine grace, making her short stubby fingers tapered and elegant.
    “Ready?” Her personal shopper returned, her name might have been Anne, but after the whirlwind of men and women fussing over her throughout the day, it could have been Amy or Annabelle.
    “Yes.” No. No, I’m not ready . She still couldn’t believe her mother had taken her late night confession to heart and signed her up with the exclusive 1Night Stand dating service. Even harder to believe that in seven days the mysterious Madame Eve, of the mile long interrogatory questionnaire, identified and arranged the perfect night to meet Jazz’s goals.
    Jasmine .
    With white cotton balls still peeking between each toe and the toe ring flashing silver up at her, she followed the shopper back, and reminded herself that tonight she wasn’t Jazz. She wasn’t one of the guys. She was Jasmine.
    For just one night, she would be a woman, not a Marine. But the woman needed the Marine when she nearly had a heart failure at the almost-not-there dress.
     
    ***
     
    Zach tipped the bellman who insisted on carrying their two bags up, and retrieved the duffels before shuttling the gregarious and welcoming young man from the room. Zach didn’t think, hoped , he’d ever been that wet behind the years. Across the room, his best friend and brother-in-arms , Logan, stared out at the sun-splashed Strip below. They had an hour until their date would arrive.
    The suite at the Castillo Hotel and Resort appeared exactly as