I find the bar easily enough. It’s right next to the outdoor swimming pool.

I take a seat on one of the barstools and order a pint of one of the local beers.

I’ve just taken a sip of my beer when a woman slips onto the barstool next to me, putting her purse down on the bar.

I glance at her, and she smiles.

“Hi,” she says.

“Hi.”

She orders a white wine, and I take a moment to look her over.

I’d say she’s in her late thirties. Long red hair. Decent rack. Attractive face.

She’s no Morgan. But then no one is.

Hence the situation my cock and I find ourselves in.

The bartender puts the woman’s wine down in front of her, and she takes a drink. Then, she turns on her stool to face me.

“I’m Audrey.” She holds her hand out to me.

I slide my hand into hers. “Wilder.”

“Interesting name.”

“I’m an interesting guy.”

“I bet you are.” She laughs softly. “So, Wilder, tell me, what brings you to San Kamphaeng?”

“Work.”

“What kind of work?”

“I’m here to meet with a supplier to check out materials.”

“Materials, huh? So, you work in the clothing industry?”

“Lingerie.”

Something hot flashes in her eyes. “Lingerie, huh? Which brand? I might know it.”

“Under Her.”

“Would you believe me if I said I was wearing one of your bra and panty sets right now?”

“I wouldn’t have a reason to disbelieve you,” I say.

She smiles. “So, what exactly do you do at Under Her?”

“What do you think I do?”

“Well, the fact that you’re here, meeting with a materials supplier…I’d say, buyer.”

“CEO.”

“My ex-husband’s a CEO. Not for a lingerie company though.”

Ex-husband. She wants me to know she’s single. Meaning she’s looking for a hook-up.

I can’t even muster up the effort to care. Right now, all I can think about is Morgan and what she’s doing back in her room and if she’s even noticed I left mine.

“My divorce was finalized a week ago,” she continues. “That’s why I’m here, on a trip with my friend to celebrate my return to singledom.”

“Where’s your friend now?” I ask out of politeness.

“Oh, she’s in her room—sunstroke.” She laughs and rolls her eyes. “So, Wilder”—she moves closer to me, tilting her body toward mine—“I’m not usually this forward,” she says in a lowered voice. “But”—she hesitates, biting her lip—“I was wondering if you’d like to…come back to my room with me.”

I stare at her, waiting for something to happen in my pants.

But there’s nothing.

Not even a flash of excitement at the prospect of fucking a hot divorcee, who probably hasn’t had sex in a long time.

Fucking Morgan and the fucking voodoo she’s put on my cock.

I hate her.

Well, I don’t hate her.

The awful fucking truth is, I can’t have sex with anyone else because I want Morgan.

No one else. Only her.

And I hate the fact that I can’t have her.

I let out a breath. “I’m really sorry…” I say. I see a flash of disappointment flicker through her eyes. “It’s not you,” I’m quick to add. “You’re hot. Really hot. Any other time, and I’d be grabbing your hand and leading you straight back to your room. But”—I stare down into my beer—“I just…can’t.”

“You don’t have to explain. It’s fine.” She plasters on a smile and downs her drink. “Can’t blame a girl for trying though, right?” She slips off her stool and picks her purse up.

“Audrey, just because I said no…don’t let that put you off. What I mean is”—I rub my forehead—“the next guy you ask back to your room will be all over that…you.” I force a smile. “If this were a few weeks ago and you were asking me to go back to your room, I wouldn’t have hesitated. It’s just…my head’s a little screwed up right now.”

“Yeah.” She sighs. “Love will do that to you.” Then, she walks away.

I want to call after her and tell her that I’m not in love with Morgan. My dick and I are just a little obsessed with her. Well, a lot obsessed.

But whatever.

Sighing, I drain my drink and leave the bar.

I take the long walk back to my bungalow.

When I get close, I see Morgan is sitting out on the terrace, reading a book. She’s wearing this long black caftan, and her hair is tied up in a knot on the top of her head.

Fuck. She’s beautiful.

It’s weird. For the last thirteen years, I thought she was judgmental and stuck up.

But, deep down, I liked her. I just didn’t like the fact that she didn’t like me, and I didn’t know why.

It’s frustrating to have someone hate you for no reason at all. Especially when, under any other circumstances, you would have wanted to be friends with them.

Wanted more from them.

Wanted more from her.

Like I do now.

Her head lifts from her book as I approach. She doesn’t look at me like she wants to kill me, so I take that as progress.

I sit down on the chair next to hers. “Can we have a cease-fire? We’re in this beautiful country, and I know we’re here to work, but I’d like us both to have a good time as well.”

She sighs and closes her book. “Okay,” she says.

My eyes flick to hers. “Okay?” I echo.

“Yeah. You’re right. You did a dickish thing with the Craigslist ad, but I wasn’t entirely innocent either in all of this. So, yeah, let’s call a cease-fire. We have to work together, and we were getting along okay before the whole Sierra incident.” Her mouth tightens around Sierra’s name.

“I am sorry about that.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I lean back in my chair.

I risk a glance at her, and she’s frowning. Her mouth still tight. Her eyes lit.

And then it dawns on me that maybe she’s not pissed because I slept with her assistant. She’s pissed because I didn’t sleep with her.

She’s jealous. And she wants me.

I know I said that to her when we were arguing—that she wanted to screw me—but I didn’t actually believe it. I was trying to piss her off.

Now, I’m starting to think I was right.

There’s a fine line between sex and hate. Okay, so it’s love and hate. But Morgan and I don’t love each other. We just want to fuck each other’s brains out.

And knowing that makes the whole staying away from her a hell of a lot more difficult.