Strolling through the town after we return the boat, I feel as if I’m tagging along with a local celebrity. Everyone we pass gives Will a smile or a wave, and not just out of general friendliness.

“My sister is so looking forward to performing for your guests next weekend,” one woman tells him.

“Oh, yes, he’s up and running around like usual again,” a guy answers, beaming, when Will asks if his son is over his flu.

Another man jogs over to let Will know he’s sorted out the “bicycle rental situation.” Before we’ve even sat down in the homey little restaurant he’s picked out, Will is joking with the owner about the change in music since the last time he was there.

“Is there anyone here you don’t know?” I ask over our tamales and a creamy drink Will called horchata that includes a kick of cinnamon.

He grins. “I make a point of spending time in town as often as I can. Not just this one—all the ones near the resort. Surveys and reports never give the full picture. You’ve got to talk to the actual people who live in the area for that.”

“It’s important to you to be respectful of them,” I say, remembering what he said the other night in the hotel bar.

“That and I’d like them to be a real part of what I’m doing. For it to be more of a collaboration than some American company moving in and taking up space. I think it’s better for all of us that way. The hotel benefits from their experience and skills, and it contributes to the local economy.”

“Everyone wins,” I realize.

“Exactly.” He rotates his glass between his fingers, his gaze going distant. “It’s coming along well so far. Hard to make any definitive statements after only a couple years, but I hope this model of sustainability will be viable enough that I can expand to other locations.”

“Where else would you want to develop?”

“Mexico has been good to me, so I’ve considered looking for a spot on the Atlantic coast. Farther abroad, Costa Rica has looked like a solid possibility. Maybe Cuba if I can swing it. I’m keeping an open mind. In an ideal world, I’ll make enough of an impact that my approach inspires some of the other resort chains to get on board.”

“I guess some of them are pretty exploitive,” I say.

“Yeah.” He grimaces. “Some of the things I’ve seen, behind the scenes . . . You get that in every industry, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let it slide and not push back.”

I wonder how his own family’s business measures up by that metric, but that feels like a potential sore spot. I don’t want to sour the day. Instead I say, “It seems like you’re well on your way, in any case.”

“I’d like to think so.” He gives me another bashful smile. “We’re both trying to make our mark, aren’t we? Though I can’t say PR is the direction I’d have guessed you’d go in.”

“I don’t think I did either. But spending time around Hollywood, seeing how carefully people construct their images and manage them . . .” Seeing how easily a guy I thought was one of my closest friends could stab me in the back. Except that didn’t really happen. Am I going to have to re-evaluate my cynicism?

There’ll be time for existential crises when I’m back home. “It’s just as much a business as anything that happens in a boardroom,” I finish. “And I like knowing I’m filling in the gaps for kids who don’t have the experience to protect themselves.”

“Their knight in shining dress suits,” he says with a smile. “Did you get that problem with your client sorted out?”

The night of the tango class—when he brought me dinner.

And then nearly brought me to orgasm.

“All good now,” I say, swallowing hard. “Of course, there’s always some new fire to put out. That’s just the business.”

“It suits you, then.” Will studies me with an affectionate smile. “You were always at your best when you had a dozen plates to keep spinning. In fact, I seem to recall that your usual strategy was to toss up a few more.”

I laugh. “Well, once you’ve got the momentum going . . . I don’t like to be bored, I’ll give you that.”

“It’s definitely looked like you’ve been keeping busy the last few years.”

The comment sends a flutter of warmth through me. “Have you been keeping tabs on me?” I ask, managing to keep my tone light. It wouldn’t be hard—my website lists my clients and their latest news.

“Now and then I’d look you up and see how you were doing,” Will admits. “Hard not to be curious, after seeing you in action back in college. And at first . . . partly I just wanted to make sure you were okay. You did vanish on me.”

My throat closes up. The look he gives me is as tentative as he said that last sentence, but all at once I’m wanting to hail all frequencies for a rescue party. Even knowing what I know now, that is territory I have no intention of exploring with him. It’s easier if he doesn’t know—if he never knows.

Maybe I don’t owe him an explanation, but I do owe him at least one piece of reassurance. “Just so you know,” I start, “what happened there . . .” It didn’t have anything to do with you would be a lie bigger than the Death Star. It’s not your fault? Meh. “It wasn’t because you did anything wrong,” I settle on. “If you were worried about that, I mean.”

“I’m definitely glad to hear that.” He looks sincere. My reluctance to discuss the topic any further must be blaring loud and clear, because he lets it drop. “It’s been impressive watching your career take off, even from afar.” He raises his glass. “To continued successes and innovations for both of us?”

“I’ll drink to that.” I clink my glass to his. Our fingers brush, and an enjoyable little shiver runs down my arm. “Cheers!”

* * *

“Now this,” Will says when we’re back in his jeep, “is one of the area’s best kept secrets. Another benefit to chatting regularly with the locals.”

I peer into the vegetation on either side of the dirt road. “Do I get any clues?”

“I promise you’ll appreciate it when you see it.”

He takes a turn in the road and the jungle thins. Ocean water glints up ahead. The jeep pulls to a stop at the edge of a pocket of beach at the end of a little cove.

My breath catches as I hop out. I chuck off my sandals and venture onto the golden sand. The grains are silky against my feet. The stretch of beach can’t be more than a few hundred feet wide, bordered by rocky cliffs on either side of the cove. And there isn’t a single other person in sight. A little piece of totally private paradise.

“Wow,” I say, which doesn’t seem to cover it.

“It’s my favorite spot,” Will says. “Just not quite as easy to duck away to as the waterfall.”

And he’s sharing it with me. On the other hand, who’s to say he hasn’t shared it with other conquests in the past? Am I a conquest? I’m not totally sure what we’re doing anymore.

I walk away from those uncomfortable questions to the water I am sure will be perfect for taking a dip. It’s even warmer than the ocean was out by the reef, gently cool and refreshing. I wade out to waist depth and bask in the shallow waves. Then I notice the prickling sensation on my face with the warmth of the sun. Time to sunblock up.

I go join Will on the blanket he’s laid out under the shade of a palm tree. I sit beside him, not close enough that we’re touching, but that doesn’t stop every nerve in my body from springing into awareness of his body.

“So how long do you think you’ll need before you can expand?” I say. Shop talk should keep my mind out of the gutter.

“A year or two, probably. Long enough to make sure business doesn’t fall off once the resort is no longer ‘new.’ ” He stretches out his legs. It should be illegal to have calves that sculpted. “Do you think you’ll stick with social media stars permanently?”

“I already have a couple of minor TV actor clients,” I say. “I’d definitely branch out more if I got requests from the right people. But I think I’m going to stick with the under-18 set for the foreseeable future.”

“They appeal to your maternal side?” Will teases.

I snort. “Not exactly. I just like ’em better. I’ve got to tell you, ninety percent of the time if someone I’m working with is driving me up the wall, it’s the parents, not the actual client. People rag on teenagers a lot, but the biggest assholes I’ve met have been well past adolescence.”

“More time to practice,” Will suggests, and I can’t help giggling. He glances over at me as I rub a blob of sunscreen over my shoulders. “Can I get your back for you?”

My pulse stutters. In an instant, I can already imagine how his palms will feel against my skin. But what’s there to sound the alarms about? He’s done nothing that should make me wary the entire day—the opposite, in fact.

And it is really awkward trying to get my back on my own.

“Thanks,” I say, and hand him the bottle.

He eases over to sit behind me. His hands slide down my back, slick with the cream but warm, and I close my eyes. Forget swimming. I’d be happy to spend the rest of the afternoon like this.

He reaches the small of my back, and I swallow hard. A bolt of pleasure shivers through my nether regions. Then his hands rise to knead my neck.

“I figure I owe you one, after that impromptu massage the other day,” he says. I feel as well as hear his words in the heated breath against my spine.

“Yeah, I, er—” I lose my train of thought for a moment as he digs his thumbs into my shoulders. Fuck, that is a heavenly pain. Maybe it’s the euphoria of unknotting muscles, or maybe it’s how damned kind he’s been all day . . . or maybe it’s just something I need to say. An apology spills out. “Sorry about that. And about—I know I’ve been acting kind of scattered. I guess my head hasn’t exactly been on straight. I wasn’t trying to jerk you around.”

“It’s all right,” Will says. His thumbs swivel in tight circles down my back. I let myself lean into them. “I realize I might have come on too strong. It’s strange, isn’t it, when you see someone you feel you should know so well, but you also haven’t talked to them for years . . . It’s easy to get ahead of yourself.”

He pauses, his hands going still, splayed just below my bikini strap. “How are you feeling now?”

“Good.” The truth of that statement floods me as I say it. “Really good.”

“Hmmm. I was aiming for at least a ‘great,’ if not a ‘wonderful.’ Sounds like I need to up my game.”

I laugh, but my body feels suddenly flushed. Flushed and certain that a quick massage is not going to cut it. “I do have some thoughts on how you could accomplish that,” I say.

“Really?” His voice takes on a husky note that goes straight to my core. He leans his head over my shoulder so his breath tickles my ear. “I’d love to hear them.”

I hook my hand around the back of his neck and turn partly toward him. His mouth is right there to meet mine. We kiss long and slow, nothing like our frantic make-out up against the tree, and this feels even sweeter. And not just because of the taste of vanilla and cinnamon lingering in his mouth.

I want this. I want him. His gently determined lips coaxing mine apart, his tongue teasing over mine, his firm muscles flexing against my arm and back, his hands sliding farther around my torso.

He strokes the sensitive skin over my ribs. Then his thumbs arc higher, grazing the swell of my breasts. I kiss him harder, wanting, wanting. With every sweep across the fabric of my bikini, his touch creeps higher, until it’s just below the points now aching for it. A frustrated whimper slips from my throat, and he smiles. His hands shift—and a ringtone jangles from the jeep.

Will drops his face to the crook of my neck with a muffled curse. “I’m so sorry,” he mutters. “If someone’s calling me after the instructions I left, I’ve got to take this.”

“It’s okay,” I say, swallowing a groan. “You’re talking to a world champion workaholic here, remember?”

I stay there, hot and tingly in a way I don’t think a dip in the water is going to fix, as he lopes over to the jeep. Even at the sight of him scooping up his phone, I can’t take my eyes off of him. The way he stands, the fall of his hair to shadow his eyes as he bows his head.

Maybe it’s for the best that little interlude was interrupted. Because if I’m honest with myself, what I’m feeling right now is more than just wanting. Or at least wanting a lot more than just a quick roll in the sand.