Page 6 of Ship Happens

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

I leave the schedule on the coffee table and return to the balcony, bourbon in hand. The sun is setting over the ocean, paintingthe water in golds and pinks. In the distance, a pod of dolphins breaks the surface, reminding me why I started the Green Ocean Initiative in the first place.

Harper Bennett doesn’t know it yet, but we actually want the same thing. She just assumes the worst about me because of my last name and bank balance.

Well, by the end of this cruise, Dr. Bennett will either endorse my environmental initiatives or create such a spectacular public meltdown that no one will take her criticisms seriously.

Either way, I win.

And I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t looking forward to watching her reaction to our new “couple status” tomorrow morning.

Sometimes business and pleasure can mix. Especially when pleasure means driving your most vocal critic completely insane.

I raise my glass in a silent toast to the closed curtains next door.

Game on, Dr. Bennett.

Chapter Three

HARPER

FAKE DATING IS A CRIME

Iwake to sunlight streaming through the balcony door and the distant sound of waves slapping against the hull. For one blissful moment, I forget where I am.

Then reality crashes back: I’m on a floating romance factory, I threw champagne at a billionaire, and I have approximately seven research papers to draft on The Rendezvous’ “eco-initiatives” (or lack thereof).

All in a day’s work.

I roll out of bed, shuffling to the bathroom. The suite they moved me to last night is admittedly gorgeous—spacious, elegantly appointed, with panoramic ocean views. Why they suddenly needed to “upgrade” me remains suspicious, but I wasn’t about to argue with the apologetic staff member who claimed my original cabin had “maintenance issues.”

My phone buzzes as I’m brushing my teeth. Three missed calls from my boss, five texts, and—I nearly choke on toothpaste—thirteen media requests.

“What the...”

I open Twitter and almost drop my phone. There I am, arm extended, mid-champagne throw, with Ethan Cole’s surprised face immortalized in high definition. The photo’s been shared over 40,000 times.

“Oh no.”

But it gets worse. The Rendezvous’ official account has posted a different photo—Ethan, champagne-soaked but smiling charmingly, with a caption about “heated sustainability discussions” and “finding common ground with @DrHarperBennett.”

My finger hovers over the screen. I should be outraged. I am outraged. But there’s something annoyingly impressive about his damage control spin.

A knock at the door interrupts my social media spiral. I throw on a robe and peek through the peephole. A uniformed crew member stands holding a garment bag and an envelope.

“Dr. Bennett? I have your itinerary and attire for today’s activities.”

“I didn’t sign up for any activities,” I call through the door.

“It’s part of your environmental assessment package,” he replies, sounding rehearsed. “The cruise director added a note explaining everything.”

Reluctantly, I open the door and accept the items. “What activities?”

“The Lover’s Obstacle Course starts at ten, ma’am. Breakfast is being served on the Sunrise Deck.”

“Lover’s what now?” But he’s already walking away.

I tear open the envelope and scan the letter inside, my horror growing with each line:

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