Page 32 of Caribbean Crush

“So ... what do you think of him?”

I expect her to go gaga over how handsome he is—styled, groomed, charming. All of the above.

She holds up her hand. “Save it. He’s not single.”

I’m more than a little surprised. “How do you know?”

She shrugs and crosses her arms, squinting over at the lighthouse. “I looked him up last night in my drunken stupor. He has an Instagram account. He doesn’t post much, but when he does, it’s all pictures of the same woman with these nauseatingly sweet captions. The whole account is like an homage to her. The lucky cow.”

“Oh well. Ricardo’s nice.”

“He’s interested in you,” she points out, shifting her gaze to me with a waggle of her brows.

“Well, I bet he has friends,” I say with a teasing wink. Surely there’s more just like him. Sexy locals.

“True. All the better for me. I need a proper lay.”

“Same, but it’s kind of hard to get things going on a vacation like this. We leave Key West in the morning, so it’s now or never with men like Ricardo. I’ve never had a one-night stand,” I admit, recognizing the truth of my earlier suspicions about cruise ship relationships. Sienna and I have known each other for barely twenty-four hours, and already, I’m spilling secrets to her. We’re on friendship warp speed.

“I have, twice.” She scrunches her nose in distaste. “They were just okay. Sort of not worth the trouble of having to sneak off in the morning all awkward and guilty. Still, I have mates that swear by them. I’m willing to give it another go.” Her expression turns wicked with glee. “Maybe we should both live a little on this trip. Explore our options.”

I shrug, mulling it over. “Could be interesting.”

With everything else in my life quite literally in the gutter, I don’t see any issue with letting loose and having fun with a guy. Distracting myself for a few hours sounds perfect. No strings attached. No need to fill him in on my sad little life.

She claps. “Okay, so it’s settled. We’re going to sow our wild oats.” She leans closer, perusing our tour group. “I’m afraid to say, but outside of Ricardo, we’ve managed to get the oldest and crustiest of the bunch. I mean, where are the hunks? Ignoring this sad lot, who would be your pick for a one-night stand out of everyone we’ve met so far? Ricardo?”

Her eyes spark with the idea that there’s something brewing between me and our tour guide. Unfortunately, Phillip, not Ricardo, is the first man to come to mind. The realization startles me like I’ve just had a bucket of cold water poured over my head.

I remember the spark we shared at breakfast. My stomach curls in on itself as I think back on the way he watched me from across the table. There was no shy glance, just a bold, arrogant perusal. A look that said I own the place. Literally. I’ve never experienced a man like him. Not on a date, definitely not in bed. I’ve always gone for quiet, studious boys, mostly due to ease of access. The guys in my journalism classes in college were not exactly the most intimidating creatures on Earth. And after college, the guys I dated were much the same. Most recently, I went out with an associate editor at Bon Voyage for a few weeks before it petered out partly due to lack of chemistry but mostly due to bad timing. It was around the same time my grandmother was at her sickest, and the guy wasn’t looking to hold someone’s hand through that amount of intense grief. I don’t blame him for ending things. In fact, looking back, it was for the best. My feelings for him were lukewarm. We would have probably dated for a few months and then gone our separate ways anyway.

Since then ... well, there’s been a veritable drought. It’s kind of complicated to piece together a dating life while I’m living out of a suitcase, like Hey, baby, want to come back to my place? Yeah, it’s the Motel 6 just off the highway ...

I suppose I would make it work if the right man came along, though.

Someone like Phillip.

My heart races with startling clarity.

Though he’s absolutely, ludicrously wrong for me, I’m still intrigued by him. I’m convinced a one-night stand with him would be incredibly hot. All that angsty tension. Jesus.

I’m aware of the flush creeping up my neck, and I feel like an absolute pervert fantasizing about the one man who should be completely off limits. Not only does Phillip hate me, but he’s also the subject of my work assignment. It’s not outlined in the company handbook—which I’ve definitely read all of and didn’t just skim through on my first day on the job—but it seems pretty obvious that it would jeopardize my integrity as a journalist.

I realize Sienna’s watching me, still waiting for my choice for a one-night stand. I smile and shrug.

“Ricardo, I guess.”

She nods approvingly, turning to look at him as he goes about his tour guide duties. “Yeah. He’s a great option. Fit and tan. I might go for that cute photographer from Spain. Did you see him at dinner last night? The one a few seats down from me? God, he was sexy. There’s the language barrier to contend with, but I took Spanish for two terms, so we’ll have no problem working it out. How do you say ‘Let’s el bono’?”

A laugh bursts out of me, and we draw the attention of everyone in our group.

Whoops.

Our blisteringly hot tour of Old Town lasts another two hours. I take notes as best as possible, but outside of the hour we spent at Hemingway’s house, it wasn’t all that noteworthy. People come to Key West for the beaches, not a roundabout tour of an old cemetery. By the time Ricardo pulls the golf cart up to the beach, Sienna and I are melting like two Popsicles left out on hot asphalt.

“Oh, thank god,” I sigh quietly.

Sienna wipes sweat from her brow and leaps off the golf cart before it’s even come to a full stop.

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