Page 2 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

“Well.” Logan’s gaze flickered. “Heard about the Champagne Reef. Thought I could do a dive there.”

Of fucking course.

“Unfortunately, it’s a protected area.” I kept my tone pleasant. “Experienced divers only.”

His scowl darkened. “I heard it’s the best spot.”

“We have quite a number of other beautiful spots outside the marine reserve,” I told him. “And if you get certified with us, we’ll be happy to take you to the Champagne Reef after that’s done.”

“Do you have any idea how much I’m paying to be here?” he asked. Depending on his cabin—quite possibly more per night than Nia and I made in a month. “I expect to see thebestfucking spot, not some third-rate whatever place.” He crossed his arms, and I noticedhow it brought out his biceps even as my temper kicked into a higher gear.

“We understand,” Nia said when nope, no, I didn’t. This was why she was the boss, though, and I her lowly minion. “But we have a duty to protect our environment. The Champagne Reef is a fragile ecosystem, and we can’t take divers there that might damage it.”

“Isn’t that down to whether the instructor is competent?” he asked.

Oh, for fuck’ssake. My smile felt stretched like brittle rubber. “Sure. If you’re fine with us just towing you through the water, no fins, happily tucked under an arm—then yes, we can do that.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed, a tilt to his mouth that struck a strangely dissonant chord. “Are youmockingme?”

Uh-oh. I straightened my spine and held his gaze.

“Not at all,” Nia cut in smoothly, tucking a strand of curly black hair behind her ear. Her smile wasn’t flirty, just open and approachable, British accent thickening as she continued.We’re all friends here, mate.“It’s a simple matter of regulations. And as an eco-friendly resort… It’s an important part of our image and brand, so we can’t be seen cutting corners. And most of our guests love feeling like they’re part of a bigger commitment to sustainable travel.”

Read: here’s your chance to claim you’re a kind-hearted nature lover with bright, shiny values and a wallet to match.

“I guess,” Logan bit out, reluctance thick in his tone even as the odd tilt to his mouth persisted. “So what’s the best spot you can take me to?”

“How about a shallow spot near Soufriere? Parrotfish and barracuda, and we often see sea turtles and rays too.” Nia’s knee was still pressed to mine in warning, and I reminded myself to chill. Right, right. Job. Steady income. Beautiful working environment, a safe distance to Miami, and guests who were mostly tolerable.

Logan would be gone soon enough, and until then, I’d grit my teeth.

“Sounds okay,” he said.

“Good.” I was Teflon. Bullshit rolled right off me. “When would you like to go?”

He looked at me like I was a few bricks short of a load. “Now, of course.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Nia again, calm and friendly. “We already have a group that will show up any minute, so we can’t do a discovery dive with you. How about tomorrow morning? Milo can take you for a shore dive, get you familiar with the gear, and then you can decide if you want to do an actual course.”

Why me?

But I already knew the answer. Guys like Logan liked to either hit on Nia because she was pretty and deceptively tiny, or they didn’t take her seriously because she was a Black woman in charge. They didn’t know that she could make their stay here unpleasant in a million small ways because the resort staff would follow her down a cliff. By contrast, no one would even follow Richard to the closest coffee machine.

“Him?” Logan gave me a blatant once-over that suggested he found me wanting but would hold his tongue for now. Fuck him. Yeah, he might have a few inches and several pounds of muscle on me, but I was no slouch. Lugging about heavy diving equipment kept me plenty fit, and I’d come to embrace my shirtless state as a way of life, had long since stopped feeling self-conscious about my body. Or myself, for that matter.

I resisted the impulse to cross my arms and instead met his eyes with a hard smile. “Will that be a problem?”

For a blink of an eye, not even, it felt like his attention might have dropped to the dip between my collarbones. Then he raised his eyebrows, shoving hair off his forehead with one hand. The bracelet wrapped around his wrist spelledCoachella Festival. Huh. He didn’t seem the type to pitch a tent in the mud and sway with a beer-happy crowd.

“No, that’s fine.” He pursed his mouth. “I’d have thought you’d pair your head instructor with a beginner, but I guess you have yourown way of doing things.” His tone implied we could be barely trusted to change a lightbulb.

“Milo,” Nia stepped in, “has been a dive instructor for eight years, with several thousand dives under his belt. You’ll be in great hands with him.”

“Really?” Logan shot me another dubious look. “They accept twelve-year-olds?”

Okay, now he was just being obnoxious—I didn’t lookthatyoung. “I’m twenty-six,” I said evenly. “Got my instructor certification at eighteen.”

He made a dismissive sound, lifted one shoulder, and pushed to his feet, palms flat against the table. Long fingers, big hands. “Nine?”

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