Page 67 of VOGUEish

He laughed, held out his hand to help her up, and guided her to an empty cabana. “Let’s take a breather before we walk all the way back to the hotel.” It was obvious the combination of heat, humidity, and alcohol were doing a number on her.

She flopped onto a lounger built for two about as gracefully as she did everything else. He glanced at his watch. They had an hour before they were to meet Annie for dinner.

Isabella rolled on her side and stared at him. “Are you going to just stand there or are you going to join me?”

Despite all common sense, he heard himself say, “Why the hell not?” It was either that or offer to photograph her in the bikini for Ryder, and that sure as hell wasn’t happening.

She scooted over, and he laid down on his back next to her, crossing his arms.

She laughed. “What? Are you a corpse?” Without asking, she lifted his arm and ducked under it and curled up into his side before he could speak.

“Comfy?” he asked gruffly. Thoughts of their night playing strip-shot ping-pong flooded him.

“Want to know a secret?”

He stiffened. “Very much so.”

She placed a hand on his chest and pushed up to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want to, but I like you…a lot.”

If it was possible, he stiffened even more. “What are you talking about? You’re dating my friend.”

She sat up. “Friends, schmends. Ryder and I are just friends.” She wagged a finger at him. “It’s you I like.”

His brain short-circuited. “Does Ryder know?”

“He absolutely does.”

“But he brought you to the airport.”

“Only to make someone jealous.”

“Someone?” Had they not spent the night together?

She gasped and put her hand over her mouth. “Flats. It’s you we wanted to make jealous.” She sat back. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

Tipsy Isabella was now drunk Isabella. He placed his hands behind his head to keep from reaching for her. “Was this your idea?”

Isabella shook her head.

“Ryder’s?” he asked.

She nodded.

Chandler tried to be mad at the motherfucker but couldn’t. “You know he’s better suited for you than I am.”

Isabella’s tongue darted out, and she licked her lips. “Of course he is. That’s why we’re probably going to get married.”

He stilled. “Why would you do that?”

Isabella pulled away from his body and fanned herself. “Because that’s what you do when you have a backup spouse?”

“What the hell is a backup spouse?”

“The one you marry if the right one never comes along.”

“And Ryder is your backup spouse?”

“And vice versa.”

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