When Thomas concentrated on something, on someone, the rest of his world disappeared. At the library, that meant she worked alone, even as she worked beside him. On the ferry to Parrot Cay, that meant he was paying so much attention to her, he nearly fell overboard. Here, in her arms, it meant he was so focused on holding her that he forgot to watch his feet, or even move them.
He wanted her. This strong, sweet, protective man who’d made her laugh dozens of times during dinner and couldn’t seem to do anything in a hurry.
She sincerely hoped that applied to foreplay too.
When the music faded, he spoke into her ear. “It’s getting late. Do you want to go back to our room?”
Oh, yes. She really did.
He held her hand as they said good night to the crew. All the way to the elevator, all the way down the hall to their door. But when they got inside their room, he gave her fingers a squeeze and let them go.
He beamed that sweet, affectionate smile her way. “May I take a shower first?”
To her shock, he gathered what he needed and shut the bathroom doors behind him. The sound of running water began moments later.
He’d left her with no kiss. No loaded glances. No seductive invitation to join him in the shower.
Had she misunderstood everything? Mistaken on-camera flirtation and the affectionate gestures of a friend for something different?
She was still standing there frozen, just inside the room, when he emerged from the bathroom minutes later, dressed in a thin white tee and drawstring pajama bottoms.
“Your turn.” He smiled at her again. “We have a tour scheduled early in the morning, so we should get some sleep. You must be exhausted.” Then he flipped back the covers on his side of the bed and climbed inside, turning so his back was to her and his voice was muffled when he spoke again. “Thank you for a truly wonderful day, Callie. One of the best I’ve ever had.”
She’d hoped for a truly wonderful night too. One of the best she’d ever had.
But it appeared that wasn’t going to happen, so she choked out a pro forma but honest reply. “Same here.”
In a sudden, embarrassed hurry, she kicked off her shoes, grabbed a nightgown from her suitcase, walked to the bathroom, and closed the doors behind her. The dress she hung on a hook to prevent wrinkles. The bra and panties she kicked to the corner.
A quick shower washed away the glowy goddess makeup she’d applied earlier that evening and the grime inevitable after a day of travel. The body jets pummeled her skin until she felt raw, and even the soft towels provided by the hotel abraded her oversensitive flesh.
Her hair unraveled after the removal of a few strategic bobby pins, falling around her shoulders. The simple shift nightgown floated over her head, and there she was in the mirror.
Not an Amazon queen.
Just Callie. Confused and worried, with dark circles under her eyes and a furrow pinched between her brows.
She braced herself before opening the bathroom door. But just like the previous night, only her bedside lamp was illuminated, Thomas had turned his back to her, and he wasn’t moving or speaking.
Asleep or feigning it.
It didn’t really matter which. Even if he was faking, she clearly didn’t have the ovaries to press him on it. So instead of whispering his name, as she’d done the previous night, she simply climbed into the empty side of the bed, turned out her light, and resigned herself to another restless night in which Thomas remained simultaneously too close and too far.
Gladys was listing the afternoon’s itinerary, her voice rising above the sound of the boat’s engine and the splash of waves against its two hulls. “Upon our arrival on Renaissance Island, we’ll immediately take a private tour of the grounds and facilities. Then, after we check in, you two will go parasailing, followed by dinner at Seaside Steaks restaurant. After dinner, you have tickets to?—”
Callie nodded automatically, her mind elsewhere.
Just minutes ago, they’d completed a very risqué tour of Thongs—which had included an illuminating stop at the very special adult toy store on the island—and boarded a catamaran ferry to the third and final island they’d visit.
Renaissance Island. The entire reason she’d applied to Island Match.
Under a cloudless sky, the boat was skimming over the water, full of laughing tourists and amiable crew members. The sun’s reflection off the whitecaps seared into her retinas, and the breeze tempered the heat of a summer day off the coast of Florida.
Somewhere over the horizon, their destination waited.
She should be excited. Carefree. Marking every word Gladys said with strict attention.
But Callie had already reviewed the schedule that morning. She didn’t really need to listen. Which was convenient, since she wasn’t listening. Couldn’t listen. Not with Thomas so near and her mind so cluttered.
