Josephine stares at the building, her knuckles white with how tightly she’s grasping her coffee mug. It’s a bizarre sight. A tree from the tropical forest backing up against the row of bungalows has fallen straight across the one in which she’s staying, caving in the roof. It’s not one of the branches I heard last night—this time, it’s an entire tree.

Even from this distance, I can see it cuts right across the bedroom…and the bed.

We could have been in that bed.

My throat constricts at the thought of it. If I’d given in to the temptation to blow off everything and claim her again right then and there, foregoing this walk, there’s no telling what could have happened.

There are people from the resort swarming all over the area. Damn, they are fast. It hasn’t been that long since we left. How long has it been? An hour? I didn’t check my watch when we walked out.

“Wow,” Josephine says, sounding for all the world like she’s witnessing an especially large wave over the ocean or a strange bird in the zoo. “That tree crushed my bungalow.”

A man wearing one of the resort’s dark green polos spots us looking over the destruction and hurries over. “Miss Paxton?” He’s slightly out of breath, red-faced. “Are you Josephine Paxton?”

“Yes, that’s me,” Josephine says, a smile on her face. Either she doesn’t see where the tree landed or she doesn’t care. A shiver runs down my spine.

Relief takes over his expression and he crosses himself. “I’m so glad to see that you are safe and sound. The tree—” He gestures ineffectually over his shoulder. “Well, you can see…”

Josephine waves her hand. “It’s all right.” The man looks taken aback. Why is she being so calm? “Nobody was hurt, right?”

“No.” He glances at me. “And you are both accounted for. Mr. Cash, yes?”

“Yes.” I answer him, but I can’t take my eyes off Josephine. Her face is carefully blank, but her eyes dart over the wreckage. A man with his legs braced on either side of a fallen branch is tugging a suitcase out from underneath a section of the roof.

“You don’t need to get my luggage,” she says absently.

“Oh, Ms. Paxton, we’ll be recovering everything we possibly can, and that should be the great majority,” the man says in what’s probably meant to be a soothing tone. His voice shakes, though, ruining the effect.

“I can replace everything,” she answers, but something about her voice trips a wire in my brain. She’s not confident. Yet she’s staying on this island for a weeklong vacation, in one of the nicest available bungalows. What? 

“My name is Jerry Cortez.” Emerald Shores’ representative in this time of crisis finally introduces himself to Josephine. “If you’ll come with me—”

“No,” she cuts him off, and her tone is suddenly bright and cheery. “We can sort all this out later. You don’t have to worry.”

“I’m only concerned for—”

“I have a date with the swim-up bar.” Josephine gives him a winning grin and turns on her heel, walking quickly toward the resort.

Jerry looks to me for an answer. I don’t have one. I give him my suite number and tell him to send my cell phone, if they can recover it, and to have a personal shopper sent into the nearest town to purchase some clothing and essentials for Josephine. She’s probably not thinking clearly, and I can handle taking care of this.

Then I go after her. She’s almost reached the gate to the pool when I catch up.

“Hey, wait.” She turns around, a smile on her face like nothing has happened, like her room hasn’t been crushed in a freak accident that could have killed us both. “Rules aside—come back to my room with me, Josie.”

She flinches at the sound of the nickname, hiding it by wrinkling her nose. “I’m in the mood for a solo date, Charlie.”

Josephine continues through the gate before I can answer.

* * *

Hot and cold.

I stand in the shower, alone, the heat of the water cascading down on my back.

Josephine Paxton seems helpless one minute and wild the next. I think of her that first night I saw her, drunk at the bar, the man’s hands creeping up her skin. I think of her at dinner, so self-possessed and rude, leaving me with nothing, not even the bill.

I want her. 

I can’t stand her.

She’s out there somewhere on the resort grounds right now, on a solo “date.” Is she still near the swim-up bar?

Why can’t I stop thinking about her?

I turn off the shower and step out to towel off, ignoring the fact that my cock is hard at the thought of her in the pool. Wearing what bathing suit? Her bungalow was destroyed. Still, I could picture Josie rummaging through the splintered wood to find a bikini, never thinking of the broken glass that could cut her feet even through the soles of her shoes.

There are emails to tend to, so I get dressed and force myself to focus on the laptop screen.

It seems that Adam has started a feud with one of the rival resorts in Italy. Nobody can provide me with the exact details, but there’s a constant flood of messages—from the PR department, the resort mangers, Adam himself.

Once they’re all answered, I can’t stand being in the room anymore. I’ll go survey…anywhere else. 

I take the stairs.

The moment I open the door to the lobby, I hear her voice echoing off the tiled floor.

“—not a single room? In a resort this size?”

“Ms. Paxton, I am sincerely sorry for the inconvenience.” The receptionist’s voice wavers. “Two separate wedding parties checked in today, and they—”

“Resorts always have available rooms,” Josephine says, and I hear the slightest slur in her voice. She’s been at the swim-up bar.

I let the stairwell door close softly behind me and step out into the lobby. Josephine stands in front of the desk, and I’ll be damned—she’s wearing a red bikini top and a white pair of shorts, both soaking wet. A battered black suitcase stands half-upright next to her. It must be the stuff they pulled out of her bungalow.

The receptionist clicks the computer mouse a few more times, then gives a sad shake of her head. ”I’m so sorry, Ms. Paxton.” She puts her hand on the handset of her phone. “Let me call one of our in-house pilots. We have a sister resort on—”

“No need,” I call out across the lobby, and Josephine spins, mouth slightly open. “She’s staying with me.”

This time, Josie doesn’t do anything but smile.