“Shots,” I tell the bartender at the swim-up bar. “Two for each of us.”

He gives me a grin and pulls two bottles from beneath the bar. “Are you guys looking to party?”

I know why he’s asking. Of course we’re looking to party. If we admit it now, it’ll make it easier for him to keep an eye on us and prevent any ridiculous shenanigans from happening while we’re in the pool. Where was this guy when that douchebag was attacking me at the other bar?

Charlie gives me a sidelong look and picks up one of the shot glasses. “It’s a little early for this, don’t you think?”

“It’s two in the afternoon. That’s past lunch, even.”

Is it me, or does his gaze linger, just a little too long?

It was weird last night, the way he stirred while I was creeping across the suite to get my laptop. The guilt had finally burned through all my defenses. As far as I could see, there was only one solution: make a fucking plan. I’m burning a week on the island and that means I only have eleven left before my parents give me the financial boot. 

I’m not planning to mention that little scenario to Charlie until I’ve got it sorted out completely. I should have told him by now, I know, but it’s too pleasant to ruin. Except when it’s not. Except when he’s irritated with me, and even then I can’t bring myself to ruin it.

The first shot goes down with a bite. It doesn’t even put a dent in the nervous energy that’s humming through my veins.

We’re scheduled to leave tomorrow, on the same private jet that brought us here. Tick tock. Here goes another minute to be with him. Another, and another…

I can’t stand the feeling of it. I can’t stand the thought that this could all be over tomorrow. It’s a weight across my shoulders like a wet towel. No matter how much I squirm, there’s no getting out from underneath it. 

So I’m not going to. After breakfast, I looked Charlie in the eyes and told him to prepare himself.

“For what?” He grinned across the room service tray at me.

“The best day of the entire vacation.”

I plan to be good and buzzed as long as I can manage it. Right up until we step foot on the plane. Longer, if possible, and it finally starts to make a difference when I knock back the second shot.

Charlie hesitates.

“Don’t even think about it,” I admonish him. “Come on...” I throw one arm around his neck, then another, and pull him in for a kiss so over-the-top that the bartender whistles.

Charlie pulls back after a long, heated moment, his eyes dark. “Damn it, I can’t deny you anything.” Then he drinks both shots, one after the other.

The hours slip by in a pleasant haze. We both have loose tongues and loose hips, and as the afternoon wheels into the evening, I go back to the bar again and again.

“You’re cut off,” Charlie says, catching me around the waist. “We can’t keep doing this. Don’t you remember the first night?”

“I’ve been waiting,” I tell him, deadly serious. “I have been waiting between drinks. It’s perfectly safe and fine.” Then I twist out of his grasp, dancing through the water. “Just one more.”

One more turns into three more, and we move to a pair of lounge chairs by the pool. Charlie has his fist wrapped around the neck of a bottle of beer. I have a bottle of hard lemonade. I sip it judiciously.

“I’m pacing myself,” I tell him, and then get completely caught up in the blue of his eyes. “I didn’t pace myself on this vacation.” It seems like a wise and thoughtful thing to say. “I couldn’t stay away from you.”

“That’s where you’re wrong.” Charlie leans forward with his elbows propped on his knees. “I couldn’t stay away from you.” He presses his lips together firmly and gives a little shake of his head. “I don’t even know why.” Those blue eyes travel down the length of my body. “You looked so sad on that plane.” He says this so softly that it’s almost an afterthought. “I should have known.”

I laugh, too loudly. “You should have known that I got dumped for my fiancé’s secretary? That’s crazy.” I take another swig of the hard lemonade. It’s too sweet, but it’s all the bartender would let me have. “There was no way you could have known that. Unless I told you. Which I did. Only it was later.”

“I should have asked about it,” Charlie says, his voice dropping. “I was a total prick.” Then he stands up and grabs my hand. “Let’s go.”

“Yes!” I shout, and the crowd in the pool turns to look at me. “Back to the suite!” 

“Back to the suite to pack. We need to get on a plane.” Charlie is pulling me toward the entrance to the resort building, walking fast. “I want to get out of here.”

“What?” This is such a sudden change of agenda that I have whiplash. Also, I’m more than a little drunk. His words bounce off one another, echoing. “Are you serious? The plane isn’t here until tomorrow. They can’t just come get us.”

Charlie laughs. “Is that what you think? I thought you came here on a private jet, Josephine Paxton. I thought you knew how private jets work. They come whenever you want. I set the schedule.”

He hustles us through the lobby to the elevator, stabbing at the call button once, twice, then three times before the elevator doors slide open.

Once we’re inside, he presses me against the wall, the metal paneling cold on my back. Charlie looks deeply into my eyes, his fingertips playing at the line of my jaw. “I want to get off this island with you,” he says, and my grip goes even tighter around the glass bottle in my hand. “Josie, come with me. Come stay with me. I’m not going to take no for an answer.” Then he gives me a grin so radiant that it’s like my insides are melting with pleasure. “Say you’ll stay with me.”

It’s the solution to my problems.

I shouldn’t take it.

I can’t take it.

It would be dishonest as hell, and eventually...

Eventually what?

I can’t make sense of any of it, only that I want to smell the scent of sunscreen on Charlie’s skin forever, and that I never want to be apart from him again. 

“Okay!” I cry. “I’ll stay with you. Let’s get off this island. But first—”

Charlie lifts me into his arms as the elevator comes to a stop. I wrap my legs around him and let him carry me down the hall to his suite while I kiss his neck, over and over. “First, let’s get off,” I whisper into his ears.

“I thought you’d never ask,” he says.