Page 17 of Match Made in the Maldives

I don’t, although if I wanted to convince Finn that I’m not the type of person who would cheat on my partner, should I? Myhands all over him will only remind him of how I took things too far last night.

That’s a risk I’m willing to take.

I scoot to the edge of the chair, my smooth shaved legs brushing against his arms. With a dollop of sunscreen, I start at his shoulders, massaging down his shoulder blades. When I scratch my fingertips against his skin, he sucks in a breath. The sound causes me to bite back a wicked smile. My hands work more lotion into his taut muscles, admiring the lean strength Finn has developed from years of soccer.

This act of caring for him sends a jolt of need straight to my core.

“Can you take a pic of me and Mel?” My brother sets his phone by Finn’s feet, then hops over to his wife. If Aaron notices anything unusual about our poolside behavior, he doesn’t say a word. No one does.

Finn sits still, even once I’ve gotten comfortable in my chair again. “I’m done,” I tell him, ignoring the tightness in my nipples and the soaking wet sensation between my legs.

“I know.” He may as well have growled at me. “Give me a minute.”

So I do, waiting for him to say something else to me, which never happens. Instead, after a long pause, he gets up without a word and dips straight into the water. That’ll be the last time he asks for anything from me, I’m sure.

And I should be fine with that. I want this vacation to be wonderful for my family, Finn included. If that means he wants to ignore me now and forever, he can do that.

But when he crawls out of the pool after playing photographer, I can’t help wondering why he looks my way before blocking the sun with his tee.

Chapter Seven

Finley

“I wish we could do something for them,” Lou says while looking toward the shore.

“It’s kind of strange, but there’s nothing to do except what your mom and dad wanted. For us to enjoy the night.”

A couple hours before our departure, Cass said she felt ill. By late afternoon, she, Melissa, and both of the parents had gotten sick to their stomachs—all of them having enjoyed the shrimp, which must have been left out too long in the sun. Good thing I’m allergic and steered clear. The resort had done everything to get everyone any meds or comforts they needed. Carmen stayed back since all the sunshine wiped her out, and Dr. Aaron wanted to monitor everyone. They were in safe, capable hands.

Which left me and Lou with this nonrefundable sunset boat ride that we couldn’t reschedule for any other time during our stay. Lou came up with every excuse to remain at the resort, but her parents insisted we go. “At least some of us should get to have an enjoyable evening,” they’d said. But Lou’s right—we shouldn’t be alone, not after last night.

The boat, dubbed the Chrissy, has multiple staff members, including a captain, navigator, and a couple of servers. Plenty of other people, so Lou and I won’t technically be on our own together.

She claims a spot on the bow of the ship—a padded area at the front with a prime view. Lou hasn’t sprawled out. Instead, she sits rigid, upright, evidently uninterested in relaxing in the main deck’s seating area or investigating the well-stocked minibar. Every surface appears spotless, which is no doubt the meticulous work of the resort’s employees. The crisp white of the deck shines against splashes of marine blue, accented by dolphin imagery stitched on the seats.

One of the crew brings us each a glass of champagne and ushers me to where Lou is. “Photo?” he offers.

“Uh. Sure.” I dig my phone out of my pocket and hand it to him. When I sit next to Lou, she remains stiff.

“Nice!” the crewman says, flashing an enthusiastic smile. “Beautiful couple.”

Of course the staff thinks we’re together. We’re two people taking a romantic boat ride into the setting sun. If I lured Lou back onto my lap and crashed my mouth into hers, they wouldn’t bat an eye.

“Cheers,” she says, and we clink glasses.

“To not eating shrimp.”

“Mmm. Sea bugs.” She does a full-body shiver to shake the imaginary critters off her, making me laugh.

After a beat, I say, “I can go down below if you’d like.”

“I don’t mind. Doyouwant to?”

“No. Don’t want to make you uncomfortable, though.”

“Why would I be?”

I turn to cock a brow at her, but she’s sipping her sparkling wine, eyes closed and avoiding my gaze. Is she being a pain in the ass on purpose? I should tell Lou how she made meuncomfortable in all the right ways this afternoon at the pool. I had to wait until my hard-on dropped to half-mast before I could fathom getting up. The way she dragged her nails across my back had me praying the lines would still be visible when I climbed upstairs to hop into an ice-cold shower.

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