Caleb, however, doesn’t disappoint when he opens the door and stands at the bus steps as I trot over to join him. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone make a Hawaiian shirt look as good as he does with those shoulders. The print could be inspired either by the sea and sand, or by his blue eyes and his golden tan and blond hair. It’s a toss-up.

  “Morning,” he says, then glances at the bus as if checking on the passengers. When he looks back at me, he hands over the travel mug he’d been holding at his side. “Here you go.”

  “Oh!” I take it gratefully. “I didn’t expect the tour to provide coffee.”

  His eyes crinkle at the corners as he grins. “We don’t. But I thought you might like it.” Then he leans over to whisper, “Shhh. Don’t tell the others. I didn’t bring enough for the whole class.”

  I whisper back, “Thank you. Secret coffee is the best. Just for me.”

  And I can’t help but like that he’s thought of this just for me.

  The bus takes us up the mountain to the zip-line place, and then it’s a trek up well-kept paths to the launch platform. The view of the ridges and lush tropical forest is breathtaking, and that’s before I think about the trip down.

  But there’s one view I’m not nearly close enough to, so as the group climbs the trail, I fall back to walk beside Caleb, who is bringing up the rear.

  “Thank you again for the coffee. It was fantastic,” I say.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “I think coffee is proof we weren’t meant to be morning people.”

  “I love mornings.”

  “You would.”

  He swivels his head to me, a look of mock horror twinkling in those ocean eyes. “What does that mean?”

  I grin. “Mornings are for rules guys.”

  He comes to a full stop on the trail, and I do too. “And do you dislike rules guys?”

  I make him wait a bit on my answer, delivering it with a tease of a smile. “I don’t dislike rules guys who bring me coffee.”

  “Tsk. Tsk. That was a double negative.”

  “Which means it was a positive. Just like rules can be a positive too.” I gesture from his sexy, broad shoulders down to his tanned, muscular legs—purely to demonstrate a point, of course. “Like, I bet you have a rule about daily exercise.”

  “As a matter of fact, I’ve already hit the ocean for my morning swim.”

  “See? Rules. You have rules.”

  “You call them rules, I call them strategies. Strategies to keep fit, strategies to keep guests safe and happy . . .” He glances at my hands as if I still held the travel mug I’d drained on the drive up here. “I bet you have a rule that you have to have coffee before the day can begin.”

  “I’d say that’s more of a survival strategy. Still, a point to you.” I lick my finger and draw a tally mark in the air.

  Caleb chuckles. “Very sporty of you, for someone who doesn’t like sports.”

  “You’re making it easy for me to like things I didn’t expect to,” I say, soft, almost in a whisper. Goosebumps coast down my arms, and he opens his mouth as if to speak, but one of the other tour members falls back to ask him a question, effectively cutting the moment short.

  Which is a good thing. I’m not here for moments. I’m here for discovery and adventure.

  It’s quite a hike up to this place, which makes me worry it will be quite a trip down. Still, I’m not nearly as nervous as when I boarded the tour boat yesterday, and the reason is walking beside me.

  As the other tourists surge ahead once more, it’s just Caleb and me at the back.

  “Did you bring me coffee because I’m the only one who hasn’t gone zip-lining before?” I ask him.

  He looks at me in obvious surprise. “Um, no. I thought . . .” Running his fingers through his hair, he tries again. “I just wanted to, and I thought you would like it.”

  That little bit of nerves warms me as much as the gesture. “I do like it. Coffee is life.”

  “Same. Coffee is on my top five list.”

  “Top five . . .?” I prompt.

  “Top five best things ever.”

  When he doesn’t offer more, I say, affronted, “You can’t just put that out there and then stop. What are the other four?”

  Counting on his fingers, he says, “A good book, a beautiful wave, a burger and a beer, and yada yada yada.”

  Well, hello. “By yada yada yada, I assume you mean . . .”

  “Laundry,” he says, dead serious. “What else could I possibly mean?”

  “Ah yes, of course. Laundry. How silly of me to think you meant something on the side.”

  “Maybe ‘something on the side’ is on a list all of its own.”

  “That’s better than ranking it behind laundry.”

  “Depends a lot on your partner.” He glances my way, and our eyes connect and hold. Heat rushes to my face, but he looks away first.

  I clear my throat and redirect. “But let’s discuss this burger and a beer item. That’s two things.”

  “They are a pair,” he counters. “Together they’re one of my best things ever.”

  “I dunno,” I say. “That sounds like rationalizing. Two things can’t be one thing. That should be against the rules.”

  “My list, my rules.”

  Caleb flashes me a grin that’s almost as blinding as the sun on the water.

  I will not be tempted . . .

  Okay, I can’t help that I am.

  I will not give in to temptation.

  “So, Mr. Rules Guy,” I say, diverting the topic twice in as many minutes. “I took what you said yesterday to heart and decided to refrain from recording my zip-line experience.”

  “I approve. But that’s my personal rule, not an official one.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not about the rules. It’s what you said about enjoying the experience in real time. And I intend to enjoy every second of it. I want to be totally in the moment.”

  “Then you’ll love it,” he says.

  Caleb turns to me as we reach the starting point. The staff of the zip-line place are demonstrating harnesses and handing out waivers. I falter a little, because yeah, I’m going to voluntarily plummet off a mountain. That’s a perfectly sane thing to do.

  Caleb touches my arm as if to ground me in the moment, and tingles spiral through my body from the contact. “So, is there a particular reason you’ve never gone zip-lining before?” he asks, seeming oblivious to the effect he has on me. “Anything I should be aware of so I can make sure you have a good time?”

  “Do you mean is there a snorkel story behind it?” I ask, trying to keep things light and decidedly unsexy.

  “Exactly. Incidentally, your ex was a jerk. Just had to say it. When someone has never done something before, you don’t just set them loose without giving them the basic guidelines. It’s irresponsible at best.”

  “I appreciate that. And now I have a good experience to replace that disaster.” And with much better company. “As for zip-lining . . .” I eye the cable that I’m about to trust with my life. “If we were meant to travel through the treetops, God would’ve given us wings.”

  He laughs. “You’re a trip. So if we’re not meant to fly over the jungle, why are you here?”

  I glance from the launch pad to him and back again, then swallow hard. “That’s a question to ask over a burger or beer, not before a girl is about to go down a zip line for the first time.”

  “My bad. Let’s get you hooked in.”

  I eye the zip-line instructors up ahead. “Isn’t that their job?”

  Caleb shrugs, an impish smile lifting his lips. “It is, but for first-time zip liners, I like to guide them through the experience myself.”

  And when the guide is Caleb, I enjoy being guided far too much.

  He helps me into an arrangement of webbing straps and buckles, tugging to test the fit. The double check seems meant to reassure me, which I appreciate. I more than appreciate it. The feeling is like the warm buzz of a secret cup of coffee, just for me.

  When his hands run along the harness, a tingle slides down my chest. My gaze strays to those strong hands. Bet they’d feel good on me without this overcomplicated seat belt in the way.

  Oh yes, they would.

  I picture hands skimming along my arms, down my sides, over my belly, and my breath hitches.

  “It’s going to be great,” Caleb says. “All you have to do is enjoy the ride.”

  I wet my dry lips. “I . . . uh, what?”

  He nods to the edge of the platform. “The ride down the mountain. What did you think I meant?” he asks. His smirk says caught ya, but the heat in his eyes says either he read my mind or his is on the same track.

  Maybe this is a top six item—enjoying lusty thoughts about my adventure tour guide.

  The zip-line guy motions that it’s my turn. Before I know it, I’m at the edge, with nothing stopping me from jumping but . . .

  Me.

  I can do this, I can do this, I whisper to myself, my eyes closed, my heart pounding against my ribs.

  “You can do this, Skyler.” Caleb’s voice is close to my ear. “All you have to do is jump.”

  And so I do.

  8

  Caleb

  It’s been a long time since something made me happier than this—Skyler’s gleeful scream as the zip-line whisks her away from the platform and over the valley. Even after countless times, the feeling doesn’t get old—the swoop in the stomach, the zing of the cable, the rush of wind in your face. Plus, the magnificent view.

  There’s a pretty magnificent one in front of me now too. Skyler sits across the table from me at one of the reliable restaurants near—but not too near—the island’s hotels. After we dropped the other guests back in town, we made it here for that burger and beer—to prove a point. Simply to show her why this is one of the top items on my list.

  We give our order—burgers and beers—and Skyler gushes about today’s adventure until the latter arrives, and she stops to take an appreciative sip and then sighs.

  “Thumbs-up on one of your items,” she says.

  “Half of an item,” I amend, and we both settle in a bit with our drinks.

  “All right,” I say. “Beer is here, burger is on the way. Now . . . what’s the story with this trip?”

  “First, I want to know where your love of . . . strategy comes from.”

  I shake my head and sigh. “I’m not going to convince you I’m not a rules guy, am I?”

  “Let me think,” she says. “No.”

  “Fine. I’m not conceding that I am, but here you go. I loved sports as a kid, and all kinds of games. Board games, like Monopoly, and sports like soccer, and absolutely anything I could do in the water. I competed in swimming, water polo . . .”

  “I can see why you think in terms of strategy then.”

  I shrug. “So, I approach life the same way, I suppose. If you want to play the game, you need to follow the rules.”

  She nods. “That makes sense. I get that. I feel like I get you now, Caleb.” She pauses, tilts her head to the side. “Does that seem strange?”

  “Not at all,” I reply, because funny thing—I think she does. “Now it’s your turn. Tell me about the trip.”

  “I was originally going to take a trip to do spa-type things. It’s my single-versary.”

  “Ah. Single for a year?”

  Holding up a finger, she clarifies, “Voluntarily single.”

  “Of course. Hence the celebration trip.”

  “Thank you! Finally, someone gets it.” She leans her elbows on the table, beer glass between her hands. “I needed a break. I was in a relationship a year ago that became a little too all-consuming, and I kind of lost sight of myself. So, I’ve been working really hard not to do that again.”

  I nod, because I do get it. “Hence the man-batical. But that’s great that you recognized what you needed and did that for yourself.”

  “Exactly.” She takes another sip of beer then places it down on the table. “Your turn. What’s your dating story?”

  “It’s sort of the opposite of yours. As I said, my ex wanted too much too soon. And honestly . . .” I grimace. “She got a little clingy.”

  Skyler tilts her head, curious but not judging. “What happened?”

  “Like early on, bringing sweet rolls from a local bakery to my home office one morning was a surprise treat, you know? But then it was lunch several times a week, then it was homemade lunch . . .”

  “Hmm,” she says. “That sends a very domestic message.”

  I nod. “That and the constant hints for an invitation to everything I did or anywhere I went—I hardly knew her and she wanted to be an us.”

  “That’s it!” Skyler sits up straighter. “I am trying to know me before I’m part of a we!”

  I grin. “That’s brilliant.”

  And I can’t help but think how lucky someone will be to pair up with someone so confident in herself. That’s the kind of woman I want.

  One day.

  “Enough about exes,” I say, before I get myself in even deeper. “Thing is, I really shouldn’t even be having a drink with you.”

  “Ooh.” She leans her chin on her fist, sexy and adorable at the same time. “Are there rules against hanging out with a customer?”

  “If ‘hanging out’ is code for hanging out, then yes. We should definitely not be . . .” Her gorgeous pouting mouth is enough to make me forget what I’m saying. “Hanging out.”

  She’s leaning closer over the table, or maybe I am. “No . . . something on the side?”

  “Definitely, absolutely no something on the side. No side, no starter, and especially no dessert.”

  “Here are your burgers.” The waiter’s interruption is the best and worst thing to happen. Skyler and I both sit straighter as he sets our plates in front of us.

  “Thanks, man,” I say.

  “Let me know if you need anything else.”

  He vanishes as Skyler and I trade glances. She presses her lips together as if trying not to smile. I’m not a mind reader, but a good tour guide learns to anticipate a guest’s needs, and I suspect hers would coincide with mine just now.

  I nod to her plate. “Let me know if you think this is a top five.”

  She takes a bite and makes distracting, delicious noises. “Yeah, I can definitely see why this is on your top five list. But what about waves? You’ll have to explain the appeal.”

  “You’ll see when we go surfing tomorrow.”

  “Surfing? Tomorrow? In the ocean?”

  “Surfing lessons. The ocean is kind of a requirement.”

  “Did I tell you that tomorrow I’m missing my alarm and sleeping in all day?”

  I love her sense of humor. At least, I hope that’s humor. “You did look at the schedule when you signed up, didn’t you?”

  “Of course. Things are just different in the . . . abstract. Thinking about a boat versus getting on one, for instance.”

  She’s not wrong. Thinking about my rules when she’s not around? It’s a no brainer.

  But with this gorgeous woman in front of me, tempting me, smiling at me, it’s hard to stop my hands off the client rule from flying out the window.

  I need to remind myself who she is—someone who could decimate our business with a terrible review.

  Someone who’s eventually going to leave.

  “You remember when you first arrived, Ms. Professional Shopper, I asked what would look good on me, and you said you’d tell me after you’d had a beer?” I ask, successfully changing the subject from intimate to abstract.

  She shakes her head, dabbing her mouth with a napkin as she finishes a bite. “Can’t. It would be against the rules to tell you.”

  “Personal shopper rules?”

  Another shake of her head, slower this time, her eyes holding mine. “Your rules. The no side, entrée, or dessert rule.”

  I swallow, unable to stop myself. “Go ahead and tell me.” How bad could it be?

  “Well . . .” Pink flares across her cheeks. “Nothing.”

  I frown. Her blush doesn’t match the word.

  “Nothing would look good on you.”

  Ohhh. Now I get it.

  “As in . . . nothing at all?” I ask, just to be sure.

  “Yes. What’s underneath all your clothes. That nothing.” She smiles, a little devilish, a little naughty, and holy hell, that’s my new favorite smile. “My professional opinion is that nothing would look good on you.”

  I should resist, and yet I’ve zip-lined past resistance. She’s too fun, too flirty, too fascinating. Right now, she’s turning me on too much for me to care about rules. “Only your professional opinion?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “Happens to be my personal opinion too.” There’s a hint of come up and see me sometime in her voice, and I like it.

  “Well, Skyler,” I say, quieter, more secretive. “I happen to think nothing would look good on you too.”

  She keeps her gaze locked on mine, and her eyes say she wants me to break the rules. Her words, too, when she says, “I told you that my answer would break the rules.”

  “But we’re not breaking them . . . tonight.”

  The waiter appears using whatever stealth technology lets him sneak up on us like that. “So . . . dessert, anyone?”

  Skyler and I lock eyes again. Dessert.

  She breaks first.

  While the woman dissolves into laughter, I tell the confused waiter, “No, thanks. We really can’t.”

  9

  Skyler

  As the stars flicker in the Hawaiian sky, I stand on my balcony, staring at the water, FaceTiming Katie.

  Full reports are required.

  “I had a burger and beer with Mr. Hot Tour Guide, and it was one of the top five evenings I’ve ever had. We talked about everything, and then we flirted, and then I may have told him he would look good in . . . nothing.”

  Her eyes twinkle with dirty thoughts, that turn to dirty words. “On a scale of one to movie star, how is his birthday suit?”