Brooke's Wish
Authors: Sandra Bunino
Evernight Publishing
Copyright© 2012 Sandra Bunino
ISBN:
978-1-77130-172-5
Cover Artist: Sour Cherry Designs
Editor: JS Cook
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
WARNING:
The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or
in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
D
EDICATION
It is not so much our friends' help that helps us, as the confidence of their help
.
—
Epicurus
To Colleen, Michelle and Evi
e
—
Your support warms my heart.
A special bow to my editor, JoAnne. Thank you for helping my SRE tales come to life.
The Satin Rose Experience, 2
Sandra Bunino
Copyright © 2012
Chapter One
Brooke Allaire sipped her vodka and tonic as the city shrunk from her view through the airplane window. She had had her fill of twinkling lights and nonsensical holiday tunes and wished she were headed to a remote tropical island instead of The Big Apple. Holiday hoopla wasn’t on the menu this year. Brooke tipped her drink to the St. Louis Gateway Arch and settled into her roomy First Class seat.
The glossy Rosebud Resorts brochure peeking out of her leather laptop case pocket caught her eye. Next to it was a sleek card with the initials ‘SRE’ embossed in red. Brooke bit her lower lip and wondered if she’d made the right choice accepting such a lavish gift from her new surgical practice partner and medical school classmate, Pamela Gartner. As if she had a choice. Pam’s obstinacy was legendary within the St. Louis medical community.
“Brooke, sweetie, trust me. This is exactly what you need. When the pressure gets to me I head straight to SRE. It’s the only thing that’s kept me sane for the past year,” her friend explained over lunch the week before. She pushed the brochures across the table and announced she’d already booked her a flight. Brooke warmed up to the idea after her second glass of wine.
“Come with me to New York. We can have a girls’ weekend,” Brooke pleaded.
“SRE is something you need to experience on your own. Trust me, it’s a life altering experience,” Pam explained.
Life alterin
g
. What a strange description to use for a spa weekend, especially coming from a doctor who dealt with life or death situations on a daily basis. Brooke shrugged her shoulders, swallowed the last sip of her drink and pulled the SRE card from her bag. Maybe they offered yoga or some new fad in self-help with their massages and facials. The Satin Rose Experience certainly put her through an extensive medical review, including a stress test and a battery of blood work. Brooke just wanted to kick back and be pampered for a change. Her surgical residency and ongoing problems with Drake had chipped away at her psyche. She was on autopilot. Only a shell of the happy woman she used to be. Her life had just turned around and she was feeling the pain of the necessary changes. Brooke borrowed money from her parents for her half of the thriving surgical practice she and Pam bought from a retired doctor. She also made the hardest decision of her life and kicked Drake to the curb. Tired of his freeloading ways, the last straw came when she announced the practice takeover. The first thing out of Drake’s mouth wasn’t “Congratulations,” or “I’m proud of you, babe,” or even a “Way to go”. No, it was, “Great. Now I can stop pretending to look for a job.” She threw him out that same night. Brooke was numb and didn’t need any fuck-with-your-head mumbo-jumbo SRE may dole out. She wanted to be left in peace to heal her body and mind.
Chapter Two
Brooke flipped through
a
New England Journal of Medicin
e
article on her iPad during the long cab ride into the city from JFK when an instant message popped on her screen.
Pam
:
Get off your iPad and enjoy the city, girlfrien
d
.
Chuckling, Brooke pushed the off switch, slid the device into her bag and glanced out the gritty window. The city looked just as she feared. Lights twinkled on every corner and the bustling streets filled with busy shoppers and tourists
.
If Rosebud Resorts resembles the inside of Santa’s Workshop, I’m out of there
.
The silent deal was the only thing stopping her from going back to the airport and boarding the next flight to St. Louis.
The cab came to a sudden halt and a whoosh of damp city air hit her face as the door swung open.
“Welcome to Rosebud, Miss.” A deep voice with a slight southern drawl boomed from outside, and a hand reached into the cab.
All Brooke could see of the sexy voice’s owner were strong hands and a fine physique inside a dark suit. Taking his hand, she allowed him to help her out of the cab and discovered there was even more of the man to appreciate.
“Checking in today, Miss?” He drew out the “s” as a request for her name.
“It’s Allaire. Brooke Allaire. Do you work here?” she asked. The man held a briefcase and she scanned his lapel for a nametag or something connecting him with the hotel.
“No, but a good friend of mine owns the private club upstairs. I was on my way there now and thought you could use some help. I’m Ty Venice, your humble servant,” he said with an exaggerated bow.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Venice, but do I have the word ‘tourist’ marked on my forehead or something?” She knew she had an edge to her voice. Even though she was falling apart on the inside she’d hoped it wasn’t evident to perfect strangers.
“It’s Ty and please forgive my forwardness. Where I was raised it’s polite to help someone new to the area. It’s in my DNA. Come on, I’ll help you with your bag.” He flashed her a smile she was sure had melted many hearts.
“Hold on, I need to pay the cabbie.”
Ty signaled the doorman and held out his palm to the entrance doors.
“The cab’s taken care of. It’s a perk of staying at the finest hotel in Manhattan.”
Brooke narrowed her eyes and threw him a sidelong glance as she walked passed him. Her shoulders instantly relaxed as she entered the hotel. No blaring Christmas music. No harsh blinking lights. No Santa Claus. A pianist played something classical on the baby grand piano in the middle of the lobby. The only indication of Christmas was a tall fir tree next to the piano wrapped in a red ribbon. Brooke blew out a cleansing breath through her lips and nodded. Yes, this was exactly what she needed.
“Check-in is straight ahead to your left. Have a nice stay, Brooke. Maybe we’ll bump into each other again”
A shiver ran through her body when Ty brushed her arm before turning away.
“Thank you,” she said and headed toward the reservation desk.
After the check-in formalities were taken care of, the receptionist handed Brooke a black access card and directed her to a small elevator with the initials ‘SRE’ etched into the doors.
Pam had been holding out on her. The place was incredible. Brooke caught her smile in the reflection of the brass doors as they closed. Spa treatments, good food and hopefully a cocktail or two awaited her upstairs. Maybe she would even have time to read that erotic romance everyone talked about. Brooke giddily planned her weekend as the elevator doors opened on the twentieth floor.
Chapter Three
Brooke expected to find the usual Zen-like music, soft beige and white decor and crystal decanters of cucumber water that were typical of an upscale hotel spa. Instead she walked into a black, granite-flanked lobby. The only furnishing on the smooth surface was a dark wood desk. An expansive lounge area sat behind the desk with a wall of glass showcasing the buildings of Lexington Avenue.
She turned toward the sound of soft footsteps and spotted a young blonde woman approaching from the bar carrying a teacup.
“Hello, Dr. Allaire, I’m Courtney, SRE’s concierge,” she said, offering her free hand.
Brooke shook it and admired Courtney’s short black dress and what she estimated to be at least four-inch heels. She was not the typical spa attendant Brooke was used to.
“Welcome to the Satin Rose Experience. I thought you could use a cup of peppermint tea after such a long trip from St. Louis. Please take a seat in the lounge and I’ll let Mia know you’re here.”
“Mia?”
“Mia Lavender. She’ll ensure your weekend is perfect.”
Courtney ushered Brooke to a table and placed the steaming cup down.
“Th-thank you,” Brooke said as she took a seat in one of the upholstered chairs and scanned the bar.
Courtney cocked her head and smiled. “Are you okay? Can I get you something else? Something to eat perhaps?”
Brooke looked up and searched Courtney’s eyes. “No, no. I’m fine. It’s just this place. It wasn’t what I expected.”
“All of our first time guests have the same reaction. Just relax. Mia will explain everything.”
Courtney swiveled on her heels and clicked her way to her desk. Moments later another set of footsteps echoed through the lobby. Brooke regarded a beautiful woman who first stopped at the desk to talk briefly with Courtney before heading her way. Brooke gave the woman a once over glance. Black slacks hugged narrow hips and her glossy long black hair complemented her snug red sweater. She smirked at the woman’s stilettos. It must be part of the dress code, she thought looking down at her loafers. She wouldn’t last an hour tottering around the hospital on those things.
