Free Player's Ultimatum by Koko Brown Page B

she looked up her green eyes widened. “You are…you are Gutierrez’s fiancée, Yvonne Floyd?”
    Yvonne frowned. Had Robbie called before hand to give them a heads up about her arrival? Sensing her confusion, the receptionist snatched up her magazine.
    “Is this you?” she asked, pointing at a picture of Yvonne in the stadium’s tunnel. Yep it was her captured with a doe-in-head lights expression on her face.
    “In the flesh,” she muttered.
    The receptionist dropped the magazine and clapped her hands together. “We are so pleased to have you. Permit me to call Salvatore, the general manager. He’l want to give you a tour of the spa himself.” The brunette snatched up the phone and punched a but on on the console. In rapid Italian, she spoke for several moments before replacing the receiver.
    “He wil be up in a moment. If you like, you can have a seat.”
    Before Yvonne could say ‘hel s bel s, thanks for the hospitality’, the general manager burst into the lobby.
    “ Signorina Floyd,” he breathed. Clasping her hands in his, he squeezed them gently. “We are so honored you have chosen to pay us a visit. Is Signor Gutierrez coming as wel ?

    “No, Robbie should just be finishing up at practice.” Yvonne struggled to hold back a laugh as Salvatore practical y deflated before her eyes.
    “ Si ... si... I guess he’s getting ready for the match against Calabria on tomorrow. Can’t wait to see that one myself. Enough about footbal ,” he said, obviously catching the glaze entering Yvonne’s eyes. “You didn’t come to our spa to chat about sports, but to get away from it. So which of our services you would like to indulge in today?”
    “Robbie recommended the springs.”
    “Ah! Good choice. Our baths are sinful y delicious. You wil want to indulge more than once.” Insisting on giving her a tour, Salvatore led Yvonne down a flight of stairs to the women’s locker room. Pausing at the entrance, he handed her a key on a plastic accordion-style wrist band.
    “This is the key to your locker,” he said. “You’re 15A. Put al of your valuables in there. You’l also find a robe in the locker to change into after you hang up your clothes. Did you bring a bathing suit?” Yvonne nodded.
    “Good. Bathing suits are required to enter the springs. However, women are also allowed to go topless. After you change, meet me here and I’ll escort you to the baths.”
    Yvonne didn’t waste any time changing into the yel ow bikini Robbie picked up just in case they were invited by some rich mil ionaire to cruise the Italian Riviera on his private yacht. The bandeau top and bot om were held together by a multitude of string on the back and sides.
    For modesty’s sake and being somewhat self-conscious, Yvonne slipped into the spa’s courtesy robe. Good thing she had because the main bathing area was probably ten degrees cooler than the locker room and occupied with other bathers.
    “You did not take an hour to change?” Eyes wide in surprise, Salvatore stepped closer. “And no makeup?”
    “Didn’t make any sense to wear makeup to take a bath,” Yvonne murmured.
    “A beautiful woman after my own heart.” Salvatore smiled, tucking her arm in his.
    The first part of their tour began in the main bathing area. Housed in a room the size of a high school gymnasium, the one hundred-year old pool was bordered by Roman columns and mosaic tile. About a half dozen people were either floating or sitting in the chest deep water while piped in music filtered through the ceiling.

    Salvatore skirted the pool via a columned pathway and guided her through an archway into a wide tunnel-like hal way constructed of stone. Individual alcoves, with smal pools were fronted by etched glass panels for a modicum of privacy.
    “To truly reap the benefits of our pools, there is a three-step process you must fol ow. For the first twenty minutes, guests sit in the sauna.” He paused to point to a door on the other side of the