Page 38 of Perfect (mis)Match

Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say two shower heads mean twice the fun.”

It took a second for me to understand what he meant. I blushed, unable to stop myself from picturing it, even though there was no way Vincent and I were going to shower together.

Although…it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard.

“I’m looking forward to giving it a try,” Vincent said with a smile. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.

Somany sparklers went off along my spine. How were we going to manage this?

“Aww,” Jean sighed. “You two are so sweet together. I can’t wait to hear all about your story over dinner tonight. I know you’re both probably exhausted, so should we meet at six?”

I was ready to do whatever it took to sell our love story, but I was happy they wanted an early dinner, because I was already feeling the time change.

“Works for us, right, hon?” Vincent asked me.

“It gives me just enough time to freshen up,” I replied.

“Do you dress for dinner?” Vincent asked.

I started to make a crack about a nude meal but thought better of it.

“Most of the time, we follow island rules,” Joe laughed. “Flip-flops are considered ‘dressed.’ Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Thanks to Vincent’s assistant Linda, I had a suitcase filled with options. We’d gone on a quick shopping trip with Vincent’s card at his insistence, saying that since it was a business trip, it was the business’s responsibility to make sure I had everything I needed, including clothes to suit the occasion. Even though he’d told me to get whatever I wanted, it took Linda’s gentle push toget me to pile up my choices on the counter at the fancy boutique he’d suggested.

“You two rest up, or do whatever,” Jean winked at us. “See you at six—come hungry.”

They walked out holding hands, leaving us alone.

“I guess I should unpack,” I said. I was happy to have a task to keep busy because the reality of what we were doing was slowly dawning on me.

Spending the night. In the same room. With my hot-as-fuck boss.

“That’s been taken care of. Check the closet,” Vincent called after me.

I frowned. What? No way. I pulled open the door to the room-sized closet and sure enough, every outfit was perfectly pressed and hung.

What was I supposed to do now to keep from obsessing about the beautiful man who kept staring at me?

“Come out here and join me,” Vincent’s voice rang down the hall, like he could sense my stress.

He was stretched out on a hammock on the porch with his hands clasped behind his head.

I pretended to rub my eyes and gawk at him. “What? Vincent Forde knows how to kick back and relax?”

“It’s not like I have much choice,” he retorted, his voice a lazy drawl that sent a shiver up my spine. “I need to embrace this whole ‘island time’ vibe if I want to get the contract signed. You should too.”

He pointed at the hammock next to his, and I gingerly started to lower myself into it. There was something about the way he watched me. Maybe it was the tropical heat, or maybe it was just him—but my heart thudded in my chest.

“Careful, they’re tippy,” Vincent said.

The warning came too late. I didn’t calculate how to counterbalance my body weight, and the thing flipped me onto my ass with a thump.

“Shit!” Vincent exclaimed. “Are you okay?”

He leaned over abruptly, and his hammock jiggled dangerously. For a split second, I was certain he was going to tumble down on top of me. I was half hoping for it.

I was facing the ground on my hands and one knee with my shoulders shaking from laughter. My other foot dangled in the air, caught in the hammock’s tassels.

---