“But it’s not as fun as mimosas.”

“When you don’t pass out from heat stroke, you’ll thank me.”

“Possibly,” she said, sipping her water and pouting that she wasn’t tasting his cinnamon lips.

Just as Ravi promised, a few servants followed them to a perfect location on the beach of the private island. One man in head scarves set down an umbrella, while another man went to work making sure the cooler was within reach and fully stocked with water and sandwiches from the boat. A slight woman with her hair in braids was making sure that the towels were laid out before them on the sand. Once they were done, however, the servants didn’t stay, didn’t even say a word. They just gave a quick bow to Ravi before returning to the boat.

Bridget shrugged. “They could have stayed if they wanted.”

“I wanted some time alone with you,” Ravi confessed, kicking off his sandals and slipping off his own white cotton shirt.

It left him wearing nothing but his swim trunks and she had to lick her lips at the sight. Maybe it was the alcohol and borderline heat stroke talking, negating her usual inhibitions. Whatever it was, she was allowing herself to fully appreciate him. His broad shoulders weren’t the only thing to marvel over. His arms were sinewy and muscular, honed by clear dedication at the gym. He had biceps that belied his strength, but weren’t overly developed or anything that bordered on ‘roid rage candidate. No; Ravi’s arms were perfect, well-sculpted and coiled like steel. His skin was almost as dark as leather, and she fanned herself a bit at the view she had. She could watch the drips of sweat pass over the defined ridges of his abdomen and down the tantalizing dip in his hips.

“Are you okay? You suddenly went quiet,” he said. “Do you want another water?”

I’m not that kind of thirsty. Dear God, Ravi is totally the ultimate thirst trap.

Bridget tried to claw herself back to some sense of reason, to something that resembled clear-headedness even with the mimosas bubbling through her system. Easing down onto her own towel, she slipped off her sundress. That left her pale skin fully exposed to the harsh desert sun.

“No, but wow, I’m going to turn into a crispy critter. My ancestors came from a land of no sun.”

He reached to a small bottle beside the foot of his towel and squirted suntan lotion into his palms. “I’ve got mostly tanning oil on, to be honest, but I can tell you’ll need forty-five. Was I presuming too much?”

“No, even if I go back on a flight tonight, the last thing I need is to be a pink peeling mess back home!”

He nodded and clenched his jaw as he worked out the lotion on his hands. “Do you think you’ll leave?”

“This morning I still would have said yes.”

“And now?” he asked.

She bit her lower lip. “I’ve had a lot of mimosas. I’m not sure. I don’t trust anything that even has a small taint of my father on it, you have to understand that.”

“Well, we aren’t exactly business associates. He was trying to rob me,” Ravi said dryly. “Now turn your back to me, princess.”

“I don’t have to do what you say.”

He grinned that devil’s grin of his and reached for her shoulders. “Actually, you do.” Then Ravi moved closer and grabbed both of her shoulders firmly with his hands. Each one easily covered her shoulders.

What else could those hands do?

He started to knead and rub the lotion into her back. “If you do choose to stay, you’ll get used to it. I’ll be the one calling the shots, and you’ll love that.”

“Oh, will I now?”

“Yes,” he said, more confident than any other man she’d ever met. “I love many things about the West. My mother was from France. She sent me to the Sorbonne for university.”

“You can draw?”

“I mostly paint, actually,” he admitted. His hands were like magic, working not only the lotion over her skin but also working out the tension and knots throughout her muscles. Instinctively, she arched her neck back and mewled a little. He chuckled and worked at her lower back. “Sounds like you’re warming up to the idea of staying.”

She sighed and bit her lip, not sure if she wanted to let reality intrude on her day in the sun. “I need to talk to my friend first. I don’t even care about my crappy job, but Cindi needs to know I’m safe. I just… it’s hard.”

It was sad to realize she could just step out of her life and go as far The United Arab Emirates and almost no one but Cindi would care.

Note to self: get more friends and make my coworkers notice me.

“Is it?”