Piling my snorkeling gear in front of me, I give the family a friendly wave, trying to put myself back into vacation mode. Who knows, maybe we’ll spot some dolphins on this excursion.
“Okay, folks! Who’s ready to see some amazing sea life?” There’s a cheer from the other five or so people on board. Mason bends to untie the ropes that are keeping us tethered to the dock.
“I know I am!” a woman’s voice—throaty, but in a sexy way, not a three-packs-a-day way—calls out.
I whip around to see Genevieve, now dressed in a chic white one-piece with tasteful cutouts. A lot more snorkel-appropriate than my current get-up. Beside her, Jamie stands there on the catamaran, looking completely at ease with a childhood’s worth of sailing lessons, bobbing easily with the waves like he owns the freakin’ ocean. That is, until he sees me. Jamie’s mouth drops open as he stares. They must have been on the bow of the boat when I came on board, hidden by the central mast. Jamie closes his mouth, then opens it again, like he wants to say something but has no idea what.
I’d make a crack about him looking like one of the fish we’re about to see, but I feel like I’m having a slow-motion heart attack.
There’s a roar and a lurch as Mason ignites the engine.
Jamie looks back toward the dock, but we’re already sailing into deeper waters, rapidly moving away from the shore, away from the dock, and, apparently, away from all hope of me escaping Jamie and Genevieve on this trip.
“Hold on tight, folks.”
Mason pulls back on the throttle, and we cruise through the glistening aqua water.
Genevieve motions toward the only available seats. The ones directly across from me. She and Jamie sit down, and Genevieve, who either still has no idea who I am or is the most well-adjusted woman on the planet, shoots me a genuine smile.
The crashing of the waves is loud in my ears, and I move to cross my legs without remembering that I have flippers on both my feet. I manage to knock over my bag and send my sunscreen, phone, wallet, discarded sandals, crumpled-up dress, and e-reader spilling out onto the deck.Oh god.
I lean forward to try to stuff everything back into my tote bag, but I’m once again tripped up by my own flippers. My knee hits the deck with a sharp crack that has me wincing.
Jamie bends over to help, and I jerk back before our hands can touch. “Thanks,” I say. It comes out more breathlessly than I mean it to as I scramble back to my seat, clutching my tote bag to my chest.
Just think about dolphins, think about dolphins.
The boat is moving with speed now, the coastline streaming past, a blur of lush greens and swaying palms. I grip the side of the boat with one hand while my other crushes my hat to my head to keep it from flying overboard.
Mason points out a narrow spit of land sticking out into the ocean. “Just on the other side of that headland is a little cove. That’s where we’re headed,” he calls out over the rushing wind.
My stomach lurches, and not just because the boat is now bobbing over ocean waves as Mason drives us farther out to sea. Jamie is back in his seat beside Genevieve, and I chance another look at them. They look good together. Like tall, all-American, sun-kissed Ralph Lauren models. Her dark hair is cut in a bob that I couldneverpull off. And what exactly are they doing having a “business meeting” on a snorkel boat?
Either Genevieve has a sixth sense and can tell I’m thinking about her, or I haven’t been subtle enough with my glances, because she looks up at me and smiles. “Did your boyfriend not want to go snorkeling?”
Jamie’s back straightens, and his hand curls into a fist, but his eyes never leave the horizon.
“Oh.” I wince and start digging through my bag to give myself a minute to think. “He got held up with some work stuff,” I say casually as my hand closes around a bottle of sunscreen.
I chance a glance at Jamie, and he seems to have relaxed a bit. “Work stuff?” he asks. The first words he’s said to me since I got on the boat.
“Yes, work stuff.” I make myself as busy as possible rubbingsunblock onto my legs, even though this is now a very thick second coating.
“Oh, that’s too bad. I had to drag this one away from his spreadsheets.” Genevieve rests a hand on Jamie’s arm, and the casual intimacy of it punches through my chest like a harpoon. “So, what does your boyfriend do?”
I freeze, my mind drawing a complete blank. What would be an impressive job for a fake boyfriend to have?
“He’s, well… a, um, an, ah…” I let my eyes drift around the boat, frantically looking for inspiration. All I can think isboat, fish, betrayal, maybe dolphins?“A marine biologist!”
Genevieve lifts her eyebrows. “Wow. That’s… such an interesting vocation.”
I nod vigorously. “Yeah. There’s a species of, ah, squid out here that has him really fascinated.”Good lord.This fictional boyfriend is sounding less and less appealing by the second.
“Oh,” Genevieve says pleasantly, though a slight crease has formed between her brows. “I’m surprised he wouldn’t have wanted to come on the snorkel boat then…”
I want to slap my forehead for my stupidity.Duh, Sybil.
“Oh, well, he—”
