Page 27 of Ship Happens

“Any of it. When I boarded the ship, I was prepared to document environmental violations and write a scathing expose. Instead...”

“Instead, you’re holding hands with the enemy on a moonlit beach?”

She laughs, the sound light and genuine. “Precisely that.”

We reach the end of the small bay, where a natural rock formation creates a secluded alcove. Without discussion, we sit side by side on a smooth boulder, watching the moonlight dance across the water.

“What happens when we get back to the real world?” Harper asks. “When the cruise ends, and we return to our respective corners?”

“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I know I’m not the villain you thought I was.”

“And I’m not just the angry environmentalist you assumed me to be.”

“You’re definitely angry,” I tease. “But it’s one of the things I like about you.”

She turns to face me, her expression curious. “What else do you like about me?”

The question hangs between us, more intimate than she perhaps intended. In the moonlight, her eyes reflect the stars, her skin glowing silver blue. My gaze drops to her lips before I can stop myself.

“Your integrity,” I answer. “Your passion. The way you don’t back down, even when it would be easier.”

She looks surprised by my sincerity. “I thought you’d say something flippant.”

“I can do flippant if you prefer.”

“No, I... I like the honesty.”

We’re sitting close enough that I can feel the warmth of her body, see the pulse at the base of her throat. The air between us feels charged, almost electric with possibility.

“Harper,” I say, my voice lower than intended.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to kiss you now, if that’s alright.”

Her eyes widen, but she doesn’t move away. “This isn’t part of our agreement.”

“No, it’s not. This would be off-script.”

She swallows. “Why?”

“Because I want to. No cameras, no audience. Just because I’ve wanted to since you threw champagne in my face.”

A small laugh escapes her. “That’s a strange trigger for attraction.”

“What can I say? I admire women who stand up to me.”

She studies my face, searching for deception. Finding none, she nods. “Okay.”

I lean forward, giving her every opportunity to change her mind. Her eyes flutter closed just before our lips meet, and then—finally—I’m kissing Harper Bennett.

Her lips are soft, hesitant at first, then responding with increasing warmth. My hand comes up to cradle her face, thumb brushing her cheekbone as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like passion fruit and wine, her scent a mix of salt air and something her own.

What begins as a tentative kiss quickly changes. Harper’s hand finds my shoulder, then slides into my hair, pulling me closer. I respond in kind, my arm circling her waist, eliminating the space between us. The kiss turns hungry, months of tension and antagonism channeling into something else entirely.

A soft sound escapes her throat as I gently bite her lower lip, and it nearly undoes me. I pull her onto my lap, her legs straddling mine as we continue kissing with increasing urgency. Her body is warm against mine, her hands now exploring my chest, my shoulders, my back.

“This is a bad idea,” she whispers against my lips, even as she presses closer.

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