Page 38 of Forbidden Fruit

“Ready?” Clive asks, his voice deeper than usual. He’s changed into navy swim trunks that contrast with his tanned skin, and I have to force myself not to stare at the broad expanse of his chest.

“Ready,” I confirm, slipping on my sunglasses to hide the blush I can feel warming my cheeks.

“The boat’s this way,” he says, offering his hand.

I take it, surprised by the warmth of his palm against mine. His fingers are strong but gentle as he leads me down the path to the private dock where a sleek vessel awaits. It’s not the massive yacht I expected, but perfect for exploring the reef.

“You captain this yourself?” I ask as he helps me aboard.

“Some things shouldn’t be delegated.” He grins, suddenly looking younger and more carefree than I’ve ever seen him.

The engine purrs to life, and soon, we’re skimming across the water, the wind whipping my hair into a frenzy. I laugh, abandoning any hope of maintaining my usual polished appearance. Clive glances over, his smile widening at my windblown state.

“You should laugh more often,” he calls over the engine’s roar. “It suits you.”

Twenty minutes later, he cuts the engine in a secluded cove. The water here is impossibly clear, revealing coral formations in a rainbow of colors below us.

“This is my favorite spot,” Clive says, dropping anchor. “The reef here is pristine. Not many tourists know about it.”

He helps me with my snorkel gear, his fingers lingering perhaps a second longer than necessary as he adjusts my mask. I’m hyperaware of his proximity, of the scent of his skin mingling with salt air.

“Ready?” he asks.

I nod, suddenly nervous. I’ve always been a strong swimmer, but something about being here with him makes me feel like I’m venturing into uncharted waters in more ways than one.

We slip into the ocean together. The water is perfect—cool enough to refresh but warm enough to welcome. Beneath the surface, a new world reveals itself. Schools of tropical fish dart between coral formations, their colors almost surreal in their vibrancy.

Clive points out different species, guiding me toward a spectacular coral formation. When a sea turtle glides past us, I gasp into my snorkel, reaching instinctively for his arm. He takes my hand instead, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

We stay like that, hand in hand, floating in this underwater paradise. I’m acutely aware of how right it feels, his large hand enveloping mine as we drift with the gentle current. The turtle circles back, curious about us, and I feel a childlike wonder bubble up inside me.

When we finally surface, I’m breathless with more than just physical exertion. Clive’s eyes meet mine, water droplets clinging to his lashes, and I feel something shift between us—profound and undeniable.

“That was incredible,” I say, treading water.

“It never gets old,” he replies, his voice soft. “No matter how many times I come here.”

We swim back to the boat, and Clive hoists himself effortlessly before extending his hand to help me. As I climb aboard, I’m suddenly aware of how close we are, water streaming down our bodies, the space between us charged with something I’m afraid to name.

He wraps a towel around my shoulders, his fingers brushing my collarbone. “You’re shivering,” he observes.

“I’m not cold,” I admit, surprising myself with my honesty.

His eyes darken slightly, but he steps back, maintaining a respectful distance. “Hungry?” he asks, moving toward a cooler I hadn’t noticed earlier.

“Starving, actually,” I confess.

We settle on the cushioned seats at the stern with a simple but perfect lunch—fresh fruit, artisan cheeses, crusty bread, and chilled white wine. “You’re a natural in the water,” he comments, uncorking the wine. “Most people don’t venture that far from the boat their first time.”

“I’ve always loved swimming,” I admit, accepting the glass he offers. “My parents had a summer house in the Hamptons with a pool, but I preferred the ocean. My nanny used to say I was part mermaid.”

“I can see that.” His eyes linger on me, and I feel that flutter again. “You looked... free out there.”

The word catches me. Free. Is that what this feeling is? This lightness in my chest? “I did feel free,” I say softly. “I think maybe I haven’t for a very long time.”

Conversation flows easily between us in a way it never did with Jack. Clive listens—really listens—asking thoughtful questions about my event planning business, dreams, and opinions.

“Why did you stay with him so long?” he asks suddenly, his expression serious.

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