I give him the condom, hurriedly stripping out of my dress and panties as he covers himself. As soon as he does, he grabs my thigh, wraps my leg around his hip, and rubs against my wet center.

  “So good,” I gasp.

  “So fucking good,” he answers, then he sinks inside me in one delicious thrust.

  My world spins off its axis.

  This is too intense. Too yummy. Too fantastic.

  It’s out of my comfort zone but totally in my yes, more, give me more zone.

  Caleb drives into me, clasping my leg tight around him, filling me then pulling out to fill me again. With each thrust, waves of pleasure crash over me until I’m panting and moaning.

  With my arms roped around his neck, I drag him as close as he can get as he fucks me against the wall.

  “Harder,” I beg.

  And this man with the body carved by the outdoors gives me everything I want—a good, hard tropical tryst in my hotel room, ignoring every rule.

  Exquisite bliss is just out of reach. It’s almost here. And I want it, and like he senses what I need, he drops a hand between my legs, stroking me as he drives into me just so.

  Just right.

  It’s so damn good that I break apart in ecstasy, the night, the trip, and the no-man-plans fading away.

  “Coming,” I cry out, and he growls in my ear, groaning through his own release before he stills, shudders, then sighs.

  Sighs as deeply and happily as I do.

  12

  Skyler

  Light filters through the hotel window, but I float in a luxurious fog between “Hey, it’s morning” and “I’m on vacation.” The bed shifts with a rustle of sheets, and I remember every detail of why this morning feels so decadent—he’s stretched out beside me, propped on one elbow.

  “Hey, sleepyhead,” Caleb says, all rumbly voiced and sexy.

  I smile lazily. “Hey, yourself.” Then I notice he’s dressed, and I switch to a pout. “You’re going?”

  “I need to get out of here to get ready for Hanging with Sea Turtles. I’ll see you in a couple hours, and let’s pretend I didn’t fall asleep in a customer’s hotel room.”

  “News flash . . .” I stretch my arms over my head with a satisfied purr. “You did more than fall asleep.”

  “Mmm . . .” He leans over for a kiss. “Keep making that sound and I’ll be late.”

  I reach up to curl my fingers in his hair. “Turtles are slow. You can catch up.”

  Even his chuckle makes my toes curl. “Not really the point, but still a good one.”

  “I won’t tell your boss you’re moonlighting as a deliveryman for multiple Os. Thanks for making mine a double, by the way, with one on the side.”

  “The pleasure was all—well, equally—mine.” With one last, quick kiss, he rolls out of bed in one move, like it’s that or not leave at all. I wouldn’t mind, but can see why that would be a problem.

  “Don’t worry about telling the boss,” Caleb says, making sure he has his phone and wallet. “He already knows, since the boss is me.”

  “You are?” I sit, tugging the sheet up with me.

  “Yes. I own the company.” He glances at me, curiosity in his expression. “Does that bother you?”

  “Um, no. Just surprised.” I don’t know why that didn’t occur to me. His experience shows, and I definitely saw his bossy side last night. “How long have you been in business?”

  “I started the company about seven years ago, but I’ve been leading tours since I was twenty-three. I was on the swim team in high school and college, but competitive swimming wasn’t a career path.”

  “Seems you found another path into the water though.”

  “I can’t seem to resist the sea. Or the pool. Pretty fond of showers too.” His eyes roam downward as if he’s imagining the things we could get up to under the spray. Then he drags himself back to the topic. “But anyway, yes. I studied business so I could actually do something with my aquatic skill set.”

  “So, not only are you sexy and funny, you’re also smart and strategic.” I study him, my head tilted to match the new angle I’m seeing him at. “Explains why you have all these rules.”

  He shrugs. “It’s good business practice.”

  “And you need to set the tone.”

  “Yeah.” After a thoughtful pause, he sits on the side of the bed. “But you know how you wanted to get out of your comfort zone?”

  “Which I did—with your help.”

  “Well, with you, I want to break the rules. So how would you feel about breaking them again tonight?”

  “Invoke the Tropical Tryst Addendum once more?” I grin. The answer is easy. “I’d say yes times infinity.”

  Time for a full report.

  Once he’s gone, I grab my phone and tap out a text. I tell Katie he’s a spectacular kisser, that the sex was wall-banging, toe-curling, sheet-grabbing bliss, and that he’s the owner of the company.

  And thinking about him, makes my fingers fly over the keys.

  Skyler: In some ways, he doesn’t seem the boss type. He’s all Hawaiian shirts and board shorts. He’s ripped from doing stuff he loves to do, and he has this understated confidence that in the bedroom is just whoa. You know?

  * * *

  Katie: Uh, I’d like to.

  * * *

  Skyler: It was the kind of night and the kind of sex that makes you want to move to a tropical island and fall in love, forget you even have a job. And . . .

  * * *

  Katie: And what? I’m staring at three dots and dying here, Sky.

  * * *

  Skyler: Oh, shit. I can’t. I can’t go there.

  I sit up straight, heart pounding in worry as I re-read my texts. I sound hung up. I sound lost in a man.

  And that’s everything I want to avoid.

  13

  Caleb

  I saunter into the office, fresh from the shower, fresh cup of coffee in hand, fresh day of island life to enjoy. A peppy song playing during the drive from Skyler’s hotel bops through my head until Brady suddenly spins in his desk chair to stare at me.

  “What?” I ask, running a hand over my hair and clothes to check for stowaway lizards or insects. It’s Hawaii. Aloha.

  “You’re whistling.”

  “Really?” I didn’t realize that. “Sorry. Earworm.”

  He shakes his head, studying me with narrowed eyes. “That’s not an earworm whistle. That’s an extremely-satisfied-with-my-life-right-now whistle.”

  That’s both accurate and insightful. I’m not a grumpy guy, but my mood is unusually content.

  Brady leans back in his chair, steepling his fingers like an obnoxious know-it-all. “Well? Did you win the lottery, or did you get lucky the other way?”

  I exaggerate a prim look of disapproval. “A gentleman does not kiss and tell.”

  “That’s a yes, obviously.” He drops his pose, seeming just the normal amount of curious. “Is this a one-time thing or a many-time thing?”

  “I really like this woman. She’s kind of awesome, and I’m seeing her again tonight.”

  My friend breaks into a delighted smile. “Good luck to you, then. Where’d you meet her? Tinder, Match, Bumble . . .?”

  “Uh. Well . . . ahem . . .” I open my laptop, suddenly fascinated by my email as I mumble, “None of the above.”

  “No, dude!” He throws back his head and rubs his hands over his face. “Just no. You did not.”

  I try to feel bad about it, but I can’t. “Yes. Yes, I did. Sorry, not sorry.”

  He laughs incredulously. “Don’t apologize to me. It’s your company and your rules. I’m just shocked because you’re usually so adamant about them. You seriously slept with a client?”

  “Yup.” I consider the last few days with Skyler. “And, in retrospect, maybe went on a couple of dates.”

  “How do you date in retrospect?”

  I shrug. “It seemed like just enjoying her company. Appreciating getting to know her better.”

  “That’s exactly what dating is.”

  I shoot him a doubtful stare. “I don’t know about you, but for me, not every enjoyable conversation ends up in bed.”

  Brady tips his head as if to acknowledge my point, then taps his pen on the desk in an anxious staccato. “Look, I’m not one to butt in—”

  When I’m finished laughing, he continues. “But you’re my friend, so I have to ask—didn’t you end up dating Mia without knowing it?”

  A prickle of unease starts up my neck. “Only from her point of view. I knew where I stood.”

  “Fair enough.” More pen tapping. “And you’re technically my boss, so I’m just going to mention the Travelocity-slash-Expedition-Tours fiasco.”

  The prickle becomes more of an icy tingle even as I protest. “This isn’t the same thing at all. Skyler has no expectations, and she’s not vindictive.”

  “Cool, cool. As long as you’ve considered the ways these things can go sideways. It’s what you’d tell the guides, so now I’m telling you.”

  My buoyant mood sinks like a punctured pool float. “I do say that.” I have these rules for good reasons, which are all rushing back to me now.

  Brady leans forward in his chair, elbows on his knees, his expression earnest. “Look, you may decide this woman is worth the risk. Just think it through. It’s not like you to be cavalier about this stuff. You’ve always put the business first.”

  “You’re right.” I run my hand down my face. “This is my business. Everyone who works here is counting on me.”

  It was one thing to throw out the rule book while caught up in sunset kisses. But in the light of day? That’s not strategic. That’s not me.

  “I’ll cancel tonight,” I say. “Better to quit and hit the reset button than drag things out. Skyler will understand.”

  “Just tell her something came up with work and you have to bow out.”

  I like Skyler too much to lie to her. But it’s not entirely untrue. Something did come up with work—all the reasons why I have these rules and why I should never break them.

  That’s a lot to set aside while I do my job today. Especially since my job includes the distraction of Skyler in the flesh—flesh I’m well acquainted with after last night. Add in worry about hurting her feelings and whether I should think anything about the text I received just before I left the office . . .

  Skyler: Hi. I decided to take the hotel van to the Marriott so you only have to make one pick-up this morning. Makes it easier for everyone.

  I am ninety percent sure she did it because everyone is still feeling queasy after the fish apocalypse. The other ten percent gnaws at me as I welcome the tour guests onto the shuttle.

  “How are you holding up, Mrs. Smith? Glad to see you on your feet, Mr. Cooper. Looking fantastic this morning, Mrs. Wainwright . . .”

  I turn from giving the older woman a hand up the steps, and there is Skyler, waiting to board.

  “Oh, hey there. You look fantastic too.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  I frown at something in her tone. “Is everything okay? You seem . . .”

  Tired?

  Distant?

  “I’m great.” She sounds cheery, but a little like she’s reading from a script.

  “So, about tonight . . .”

  Yep. I’m about to make things worse.

  “Tonight?” she echoes.

  “I have to cancel. There’s a meeting—something’s come up at work.”

  “Work has a way of doing that. Don’t worry about it.”

  There’s still something off about her tone, but I let it go as she climbs onto the bus. We have a schedule, and I have a guilty conscience, so possibly I’m projecting.

  Standing at the front of the aisle, I grab the mic, smiling a welcome at all the guests. “Good morning. I’m relieved to see you all pulled through. Count yourselves as true adventurers, having faced adversity and survived to tell the tale.”

  “Trust me, this is a fish tale you don’t want to hear,” groans Mr. Cooper. The heckling is weaker today, but still a good sign that he’s on the mend.

  “You are absolutely right about that,” I say. “I thought we’d keep it low-key today, so we’ll postpone the sea turtles and visit a couple of waterfalls this morning.”

  At their murmurs of approval, I slide into the driver’s seat and put the bus in gear, adjusting the mic so I can finish my spiel. “Some of the falls on the island are breathtaking, and this is one of my favorite sites. You don’t see waterfalls like this where I’m from in California. I hope you’ll feel as wonderstruck as I am every time I visit. For now, just sit back and enjoy the scenery.”

  But even though I love Hawaii, even though island life is what I live and breathe for, something about the scenery seems lacking as we hurtle toward the final few stops on the tour.

  14

  Skyler

  California?

  That’s what he said. Where I’m from in California.

  Why am I reeling from this? Everyone is from somewhere.

  But it was like I only had to follow one hallway, then someone threw open an unexpected door that led to more doors and now I have all these chances to choose the wrong one.

  When the bus stops and the passengers exit and disperse through the park, I hang back while Caleb directs the guests toward the trailheads and lookout points. As soon he returns to the shuttle, I pounce.

  “You’re from California?” I ask.

  He blinks, startled, and yeah, I meant to ease into that a little. But now that I’ve jumped, I have to follow the zip-line down. “Like, you were raised there and moved here?”

  “No, I live there,” he says. “My friend Brady handles most of the operations on the island, and I focus on California. We have a lot of adventure tours there too. I was going to mention it last night, but I got . . . distracted.”

  My skin heats in a blush that spreads up my neck and across my chest, and memories have stolen my breath. “Same here. I think I was distracted too.”

  He ducks his head a little closer and says softly, “I think you still are.”

  I am distracted, it’s true—flustered by his smell and his warmth and the golden-sand color of his hair and the surf-blue of his eyes. “I’m fine. Totally fine.”

  Tilting his head, he studies me as if I’m a puzzle. “Is that a problem, me being in California?”

  “I live in California,” I blurt. “San Francisco. I mean, it’s not like you live in San Francisco. Right?” Why can’t I stop talking? “It’s not as if we both happen to live in the same place. What would be the odds of meeting somebody on an island and it turns out that they’re practically neighbors by California standards?”

  I try to laugh at the whims of fate, but it comes out slightly maniacal. Desperately, I wrap up with “So, you must be from someplace else?”

  Caleb’s expression has gone from surprise to bemusement to neutral . . . ish. “Yeah. I’m in San Diego. So, not someplace we’re going to keep running into each other.”

  “No, of course not. I mean, we’re totally not going to keep seeing each other. That would be silly.”

  There’s a beat where we’re both surprised I said that, then Caleb recovers with a forced-sounding laugh. “Yeah, that would be ridiculous. That’s not what we talked about.”

  “Not even remotely. None of this”—I gesture from him to me—“is about anything but here and now. I didn’t even know you were from California. It’s not like I met you and thought, ‘Oh my God, I’m going to meet somebody, and we’ll date when we go back to California, and everything’s going to be fabulous.’”

  “Of course not. You wouldn’t be thinking that, because you’re on a man-batical. And I wouldn’t be thinking that, because of my ex and work and all sorts of things.”

  “Exactly. And I’m not going to go all stage five clinger on you. I’m totally not like that.”

  “So, California is irrelevant. You might as well be from a foreign country,” he says, nodding as if to convince me, or maybe even himself.

  “Right, totally. Absolutely. California is huge. We couldn’t be farther apart.”

  Then, there’s silence. I’d expect to be relieved, but, unbelievably, the heavy quiet between us is even more awkward than the talking.

  Caleb breaks it first. “Except . . . there are flights.”

  My breath catches at the possibilities. “True. Pretty frequent ones, really. It’s not hard to go between cities.”

  “A little bit of an effort, but not impossible.”

  “A little bit of planning if . . .”

  But I’m not brave enough to say it.

  “Yeah, if . . .” He swallows hard. “The big if.”

  Another silence, full of another kind of tension. “Except,” I say tentatively, softly, “this was just a one-night thing on an island. Right?”

  He holds my gaze and doesn’t let go. “Well, two nights. It was going to be two nights.”

  I frown. “But you just canceled. Your work meeting.”

  He shakes himself as if coming out of a trance. “Right, yeah. The work meeting. Super important.”

  Try super unconvincing.

  He lied to me—cancelled our plans because he didn’t want to see me again.

  A shock of emotion hits and leaves me with two options: cry in front of him or get the hell out.

  I paste on a bright smile. “On that note, I’m going to go check out some waterfalls.”

  Get the hell out it is.

  15

  Caleb

  Alone in the shuttle, I groan and scrub my hands through my hair. “Caleb, you idiot. Work meeting? What was I thinking?”