I’ll be honest: the rest of that night was a blur. Have you ever enjoyed yourself to the point where your brain simply can’t retain the memories, for fear that nothing will ever feel as good again? Like, in the interest of keeping you alive and functioning, it has to blot out some of the highest pitches of your pleasure?

If you don’t know what I mean, well…find yourself a lover who listens to your body, and who worships it as it ought to be worshipped. Find yourself an Ashton Swann.

Not the Ashton Swann of course. He’s all mine.

So, I’ll leave the details of the rest of our night together to your imagination, because frankly, your guess is as good as mine.

All this to say, we woke up the next morning in a fog of bliss. Regaining my senses after that first wild session, I’d had the presence of mind to call the childcare center, where the staff quickly confirmed that they could take Levi overnight. I gave my consent, hung up, and with that, Ashton threw the phone across the room, and we resumed our lovemaking.

The following day, it was Ashton who woke first and volunteered to leave our little den of desire and go pick up the baby. Now, that was true chivalry. I fell back into a doze, snuggling deep into his side of the bed, filling my nostrils with his musky, minty scent.

He arrived back soon enough, and I was awoken by the sound of Levi’s squeals. Ashton placed my boy on my chest, and with a grin, I cuddled up to my baby.

“Hold on,” Ashton said, watching the scene. “I need to take a picture.”

“But I just woke up,” I whined. “I probably look like a raccoon.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You look like a goddess.”

Okay, he knew how to flatter me into submission. I held Levi close as Ashton whipped out his phone and snapped a couple of pictures. He walked over to the bed, leaned down, and swiped through the collection, showing me the results.

And, sure enough, under his artistic eye, I did look beautiful. My golden hair was spread out across the pillow like some Raphaelite beauty, my blue eyes affixed on Levi’s. I was the picture of young motherhood, awash in the divine glow of maternity.

There was no time to indulgently marvel over the pictures as we were both in sore need of breakfast. Levi had already been fed by the hotel staff, and while a small part of me was jealous at this information, the larger part was glad he’d been in good hands while I’d enjoyed myself.

I slung on a bikini, a sunshine-yellow maxi dress that flowed over my curves, and a wide-brimmed hat. Ashton was in what had already become his tropical uniform: T-shirt and swim trunks. After carrying out all of the preparations necessary to get Levi beach ready, Ashton and I took off, headed down to the only restaurant in the hotel.

A friendly hostess greeted us there, and perhaps recognizing Ashton from the cover of any number of magazines, guided our group to the finest table in the joint. We were seated on a balcony that overhung a rocky outcrop, providing us with a spellbinding view. The depths of the water were illuminated to a blinding blue, so clear that you could see all of the rainbow-colored fish which swam beneath.

So this is what paradise looked like.

The waiter brought us sparkling water flavored with fresh cucumber while Ashton and I made eyes at one another.

Turning to look out at the water, Ashton said mildly, “Beautiful day.”

“Wonderful.”

And turning back to me, he added with a wink, “Not a bad night either.”

“That all you’ve got to say about it?” I joked.

“In the middle of a restaurant? Yeah, that’s all I can legally say about it.” He paused. “But if you’d like to hear my thoughts on the matter later…well, you know where I’m staying.”

I giggled like a schoolgirl as menus were deposited on our table. Throwing a sidelong glance in their direction, I motioned Ashton towards the task, saying, “I’m too wiped out to think about food. You pick.”

Most guys would’ve shrunk at this, assuming I was testing them, anxious to see if they would pick out the right meal. In reality, all my mind could handle was visions of Ashton’s sweaty body, poised over my own. If left to my own devices, I’d order sausage, and that wasn’t exactly tropical destination food (or even on the menu, for that matter).

With a nod, Ashton waved the server over, and gave her various instructions regarding our food. Meanwhile, I played peekaboo with Levi, who was getting awfully good at the game. My little champ.

Before I knew it, a veritable buffet of food had been brought to our table. I saw eggs, hash browns, and even some sausage. Ashton had read my mind, in more ways than one; after such a vigorous night, I needed to carbo-load, and I dug into the food with relish.

I was midway through a mango-banana smoothie when a loud, obnoxious ring interrupted the gentle cry of the gulls.

“What’s that noise?” I asked Ashton.

“My phone.”

Oh. Of course. Somehow, my island mind had totally forgotten about the existence of all modern technology.

Ashton hesitated, apparently reluctant to fetch it.

“You gonna get that?” I asked.

He sighed, “I guess.”

I watched as he extracted the device from his pocket, took one look at the screen, and frowned.

“Something wrong?” I questioned, worried by the abrupt change in his demeanor.

“No, it’s just…I have to take this.” He scooted his chair back from the table, the legs scraping across the wood, and said, “Excuse me,” before walking out of the restaurant with the phone pressed to his ear.

Huh. The frown wasn’t really like him, but then again, I could allow that maybe I just hadn’t seen him unhappy before—which would make sense, given how briefly we’d actually known each other.

But leaving the restaurant? That was definitively out of character. Not that I knew him all that well, necessarily—again, a few days is hardly enough time to know someone’s habits—but from what I’d already seen, I knew he wasn’t the variety of man who took a call during a meal. Maybe that was just him, or maybe it was his Texan upbringing. Either way, Ashton took manners seriously, or seriously enough that he would never leave his dining companion to attend to some work matter.

I fed Levi some pieces of fruit, patiently biding my time, hoping Ashton’s call would be over quickly. When it seemed like more than a few minutes had elapsed, I decided to throw manners out the window and continue working away at my own plate. Hey, a girl’s gotta eat, and this girl was downright ravenous.

About ten minutes later, Ashton reentered the restaurant. Gone was the smiling, open guy that had been seated with me only moments ago. In his place, a cold, closed-off businessman had appeared. A total stranger. My hands grew clammy as I realized that, no, I wasn’t actually seeing a stranger—it was the Ashton from all of the media profiles. The shark. The asshole.

He strode back to our table, and with no prelude, said, “We have to leave the island. Now.”

“What?” I questioned, unable to keep the frantic edge out of my tone. “We just got here.”

“There’s been a…business emergency back on the mainland,” he explained bluntly. “I need to get back, stat.”

“I don’t understand. Everything was fine a minute ago. What happened?”

“You don’t have to understand. The private jet is waiting for us. We’ll get back to the room, pack our bags, and be on the plane within the hour.”

“That’s not enough time—”

I saw his fists clench and his eyelids lower. The stance was menacing, and I shrank back instinctively.

“Harley,” he insisted. “This isn’t up for debate. It’s an emergency. That’s all you need to know.”

Unsure of what to think or say, I simply nodded.

“Okay,” I replied. “Then let’s go.”

I grabbed Levi from his high chair, and we left without even paying the bill—Ashton simply shouted in the hostess’ direction to “put it on his room.” That, more than any of the other changes in his demeanor, shook me the most. Up until then, he’d been exceedingly kind and respectful with all service workers. What had changed? How serious was this “business emergency?”

My flip flops smacked rapidly on the floor, rubber hitting cement. We got back to the room in seconds and packed our backs in a frenzy of silent activity, the only audible noises the tossing of pieces of fabric one on top of the other. I threw everything back into my suitcase, but upon trying to close the top, I realized that I couldn’t—the zipper wouldn’t budge.

“Are you ready?” Ashton asked from the other room, his tone suggesting that I better be.

“Almost, but I can’t quite close—”

Before I could finish, he stormed in from the other room. Sizing up the situation—the suitcase piled high, unwilling to slam shut—he tore the top few items from the bag, and heaved the lid down.

“What are you doing?” I asked. “That’s my stuff; I want to take it back.”

“Whatever it was, I’ll buy you new ones. Now, let’s go.”

He didn’t give me a chance to disagree; no sooner had he said “let’s go,” than he’d grabbed my suitcase and begun wheeling it to the door. A bell boy, who I guess had been standing at the ready for quite some time, jumped in and took the rest of our luggage.

So much for our little getaway.

* * *

Just as Ashton had insisted in the restaurant, we were out the door and arriving at the airport within the hour.

I boarded the plane in a daze, and it struck me that this is what my reality usually felt like: not the soft, warm glow of the Bahamas, but the abrupt awfulness of leaving too soon.

Anger and fear roiled through my body as I settled in for what promised to be a miserable flight. No polite stewardess offered me drinks; no pilot came to greet us. There was just silent, angry tension.

I held Levi on my lap and looked over at Ashton, who had taken a seat on the other end of the cabin, in what I reckoned to be the absolute height of pettiness. What, he couldn’t even look at me now? How rich.

Why was he treating me like this crisis was somehow my fault? I’d had nothing at all to do with his stupid business kerfuffle, assuming it wasn’t caused by a disaster in the HR department. But even then, he was the one who’d begged me to come on the trip, who had made excuses to my other bosses. In the end, this was all his fault.

We took off only moments after boarding; I wasn’t even sure it was legal to get up in the air that quickly, but I was less scared of the plane crashing than I was of Ashton’s mood.

The flight consisted of absolute, overpowering silence, just like the packing had. I leaned my cheek against the cool plastic of the window frame, turning away from Ashton’s scowling face so that he wouldn’t see the tears springing up in my eyes.

I wanted to ask him what was going on, if there was something I could do to help, but everything about his demeanor indicated that that would be a bad idea. His shoulders had grown rigid, his brow stony. The change from man to beast was completed when, about halfway through the flight, he went into the bathroom and reemerged some minutes later, dressed in his most severe suit.

With a dawning horror, I wondered if Ashton had been right the other night—if he really was, after all, just a copy of his father, a vindictive workaholic who would never be able to make time for love or family. That same evening—was it only last night?—I had denied it to him, saying that there was no way he even mildly resembled that man.

But now? Well. I wasn’t so sure.