Our group of six reaches the entry area for the private beach and, as everyone oohs and aahs about the breathtaking scenery, I scan the area, looking for Josh and Kat... and The Asshole.
“Josh and Kat must be in the water,” I suggest.
“Oh, I see Mr. and Mrs. Morgan,” Sarah says, pointing toward the shoreline. And, sure enough, Louise and Thomas Morgan are emerging from the water, hand in hand.
So, of course, off we go—our merry band of six heads toward the water.
Gah. Why am I feeling like that poor, unsuspecting girl at the beginning ofJaws—the one who wandered into the ocean for a drunken midnight swim and unexpectedly became a human McNugget?
We reach Mr. and Mrs. Morgan. Enthusiastic conversation ensues, which quickly attracts a whole bunch more Morgans to our party, including Josh and Kat. And through it all, though I’m pretending to be sane and relaxed and focused on the people and conversations around me, I’m actually losing my freaking mind with anticipation.
Oh, God, there he is at the other end of the beach. He’s walking out of the ocean with Dax and Keane and some guys I don’t know, all of them carrying snorkeling gear.
Whoa. I must say Ryan looks damned delicious dripping wet.Holy moly. I’m not normally an ogler—I’m usually pretty good at keeping my eyes firmly in my head, no matter how attractive the male specimen; but, dude, I’m quite certain my eyes just popped out of my head and plopped onto the sand.
I force myself to look away from Ryan as he walks toward the group, resolving never to look at him again as long as I live, but, two seconds later, when it’s clear no one’s watching me, I can’t resist looking at him again, just for a quick second.
Oh good lord, that man’s body is a work of art. Literally. It’s funny, when Ryan and I were playing Hide the Pierced Salami earlier, everything happened so quickly and passionately, I wasn’t able to get a good long look at him. But now that I’ve got some time to scrutinize him properly as he strides toward the group, I’m noticing all sorts of details about him that escaped me before. For instance, earlier, I didn’t get a good look at that large booze-bottle-tattoo he’s got inked on his left ribcage. And those “V” cuts peeking out of the top of his swim trunks? Divine. I’d like to kiss my way—
“... is that right, Theresa?” Josh asks.
Gah. I immediately stop ogling Ryan and look at my boss. “Yes,” I say confidently, as if I’ve been listening all along. I smile at Josh like a flight attendant who’s just been asked by a passenger, “Excuse me, miss, why have all the gas masks suddenly dropped down in the main cabin?”
“That’s what I thought.” Josh turns his attention back to Jonas. “T’s got the entire itinerary in her head—the woman’s a human spreadsheet, just like you, bro. So, anyway, yeah, like I was saying, tomorrow we bike down the volcano and the next day we’ll...”
I stop listening.
My crotch is throbbing.
My chest is tight.
Ryan’s closing in on the group and I’ve gotta pull myself together and act naturally. But what’s acting naturally around Ryan Morgan? If we hadn’t had sex earlier, and I’d only met him today, would I stare at Ryan lasciviously or look away every time he approached? Would I talk to him breezily or stammer, or would I simply run away, screaming, utterly bowled over by the sheer spectacle of his gorgeousness? I genuinely don’t know what the hell “acting naturally” would be around someone as glorious as Ryan Asshole Morgan.
Oh, God. Ryan and his little group have reached my group and they’re now greeting everyone with hugs and kisses... and, dammit, despite my brain screaming at me to look away, away, away, far away, from that hot-as-hell lying, cheating scumbag, I just can’t seem to do it. He’s just so... damned...hot.
Greetings and introductions completed, Ryan’s smoldering eyes meet mine—and, the minute they do, I feel like I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt.I want him.I try to look away. But I can’t.I want him.He’s got me under some sort of spell.I want him.
Ryan slowly works his way around the outer edge of the group toward me, until, finally, he’s standing right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, not looking at me, pretending to listen to one of the many simultaneous conversations occurring in the group.
“Oh, hey, T-Rod,” Ryan finally says, as if he’s only just now noticed me.
“Oh, hey, Colby,” I say, staring at his mother as she talks to Uncle William.
Ryan turns to face me, lays his palm on his beautiful chest, and beams a huge smile at me. “I’mRyan.” He motions up the beach to his brother. “That’s Colby over there.” He points at his other two brothers on the far side of the crowd. “That’s Keane in the bright orange trunks and Dax standing next to him.”
“So sorry,” I say sweetly. “It’s impossible to keep you all straight. I’ve always been terrible with names.”
Ryan leans toward me, a cocky smile on his lips, and whispers, “Yeah, no shit,Samantha.”
I narrow my eyes and stare into the crowd. “Victimless crime, fucker,” I whisper.
“Hey, T-Rod!” Josh says.
I raise my eyebrows and look at my boss.
“How many people per helicopter?”
“Six,” I answer smoothly. “We’ve chartered a fleet of five to run tours staggered throughout the day on Wednesday.”
