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"Housekeeping," came a muffled voice from the other side of the door.

Courtney breathed a sigh of relief.

"Just a minute," she called. She set the Fruit Tea back down on the cherry wood vanity and walked toward the door. Cautiously, she unlatched the lock and opened the door slightly.

"Yes?" she asked.

"I have a fresh pair of warm towelettes and a bucket of crushed ice for a Mr. Jean-Paul?"

Jean-Paul must have called for them to bring that up (he liked to wrap his muscles in warm towelettes and ice his knees after strenuous exercise). Which meant he must have finished his beach volleyball game. Which meant he must be on his way back. Courtney clasped her hands, her body tensing.

"Yes, please set them on the table. Thank you."

The staff member entered carrying a tray with the ice and towelettes on it.

"A fresh pair of 100 percent cotton towelettes, warmed via being placed in the sauna for several hours. A bucket of freshly made ice, crushed by our chef using a copper hamm-"

"Yes, yes, that's fine," Courtney interrupted. She wanted him to get out before Jean-Paul arrived.

He slowly started setting up the ice and towelettes on the table. First the ice bucket. Then the ice spoon. Then the towelettes. Then the tongs for the towelettes.

"It's OK, I can do it myself," Courtney said quickly.

"Are you sure, madam?"

"Yes, thank you."

She grabbed the Fruit Tea beverage from the vanity and pointed to the door.

The staff member bowed and began walking out. Suddenly, he stopped. Courtney looked up.

There, in the doorway, stood Jean-Paul.

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