“Deal. Any other rules?”
“Just one more,” he said, raising his cranberry juice in a toast. “Have fun. That’s an order.”
I clinked my champagne glass against his. “I’ll do my best, boss.”
His eyes lit up. “Boss? I like that. Feel free to call me that all weekend. ‘Yes, boss.’ ‘Whatever you say, boss.’ ‘Of course I’ll rub sunscreen on your back, boss.’”
“Don’t push it, Burkhardt,” I warned, but I was smiling. “Or I’ll start calling you ‘bladder health guy.’”
The flight passed more pleasantly than I’d anticipated. Callan was easy company when he wasn’t being deliberately provocative, and I relaxed despite my earlier anxiety. We played cards (he cheated shamelessly), watched a movie (he had terrible taste in comedies), and ate a lunch that put every first-class airline meal I’d ever had to shame.
By the time we began our descent, I’d almost forgotten to be nervous about the weekend ahead. Almost.
“Finally,” Callan announced as the plane touched down on what appeared to be a private airstrip. “Welcome to my humble abode.”
I peered out the window and gasped despite myself. Crystal-clear turquoise water stretched as far as I could see, surrounding a lush green island ringed with perfect white-sand beaches. It looked like a postcard come to life, or possibly a green screen background for a movie too beautiful to be real.
“This is your island?” I asked, unable to keep the awe from my voice. “The whole thing?”
“All 300 acres of it. I bought it on a whim after Kris said it couldn’t be done. Not my most financially sound decision, but definitely one of my favorites. It’s like the world’s most expensive ‘I told you so.’”
As we deplaned, the humid tropical air enveloped me. A gentle breeze carried the scent of salt and flowers, and the sun felt hotter.
“The villa is just up that path,” Callan said, pointing to a winding trail through lush foliage. “Don’t worry about the luggage. The staff will bring it up.”
“There’s staff?” I asked. “Here in the middle of nowhere?”
“Just Titus and Rhonda,” he explained as we walked. “They manage the place when I’m not here, which is most of the time. They live on the other side of the island and are basically self-sufficient. They’ll make our meals and keep things running, but otherwise, they’ll stay out of our way. I told them we wanted privacy.”
The way he said “privacy” sent a little shiver down my spine. “That’s... thoughtful,” I managed.
“I figured you’d appreciate not having an audience,” he said. “You seem like someone who values her space.”
He’d read me correctly, which was both gratifying and unsettling. I wasn’t used to clients, to anyone, really, paying such close attention to my preferences.
The path opened up to reveal what Callan had described as a “villa” but what I would have called a small luxury resort designed by someone with unlimited funds and excellent taste. The main building was a stunning blend of modern architecture and natural materials, with wide windows that faced the ocean and an infinity pool that seemed to merge with the sea beyond.
“This is...” Words failed me.
“Home away from home. Though I’ve only been here a handful of times. Never had anyone to share it with, aside from the guys once for a weekend that none of us fully remember. Kris ended up with a tribal tattoo he can’t explain and Morgan lost an eyebrow.”
Something about that admission, that he’d never brought any other women here, made my stomach do a strange little flip.
“Let me show you to your quarters,” he continued. “I thought you’d prefer the guest house to a room in the main villa. More privacy.”
The guest house turned out to be a charming bungalow set slightly apart from the main building, with its own small patio overlooking the water. Inside was a spacious bedroom, a luxurious bathroom with a soaking tub positioned to take advantage of the ocean view, and a small living area with comfortable furniture and a fully stocked bookshelf.
“This is perfect,” I said, genuinely touched by his consideration. “Thank you.”
“Rhonda stocked the fridge with snacks and drinks. There’s a phone by the bed if you need anything. Just dial one for the main house.”
As I explored the bungalow, I noticed little touches that seemed suspiciously personalized; my favorite brand ofsparkling water in the fridge, a selection of thrillers on the bookshelf (my guilty pleasure reading), and even a yoga mat rolled up in the corner, as if someone had anticipated my morning routine.
“How did you know I like these things?” I asked, holding up a book by my favorite author.
Callan grinned and rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have asked Devonna a few questions. For hospitality purposes only.”
“You interrogated my assistant about my preferences?”
