Page 1 of Meet Me in Tahiti

Chapter

One

The sun was alreadywarm by the time Russ Callen stepped barefoot onto the deck of theLatitude, a spacious catamaran that had become a sort of home away from home for him. The scent of salt clung to everything—the rope, the canvas covers, even his skin—and overhead, a pair of seabirds circled lazily against a sapphire June sky.

He breathed it in, like he always did. Breathtaking, relaxing. But at the same time familiar. Predictable. Comfortable.

“Need a hand with the drink cart?” he called to Jules, her dark braid swinging as she emerged from the galley.

Jules shook her head and tightened the strap on the front cooler. “Nope, got it. Thanks, Captain.”

“Let me know if you need any help. And make sure the champagne’s chilled.” He smiled. “They’re celebrating something, apparently.”

“They always are.” Jules rolled her eyes but grinned as she disappeared into the galley again.

Malik was on the starboard side, hosing down the swim platform for the second time. Russ didn’t bother asking why. The man had a love-hate relationship with saltwater—loved the ocean, hated the residue.

“Any word on this group?” Malik asked.

Russ bent to secure one of the paddle boards, checking the lines like he hadn’t done it a hundred times before. “Eight guests. Four couples. American. Early thirties. Here for birthdays.”

Malik grinned. “Great. Probably brought matching shirts.”

Russ smirked and didn’t answer. They’d see soon enough.

Everything about the routine was familiar. Provision, prep, greet, guide. Days in the sun, nights under the stars. Keep the guests happy, keep the crew in sync, don’t get involved.

Simple. Clean. Uncomplicated. Except life hadn’t always been that way.

He tied off the last knot and paused, his hand resting on the warm rail. Five years ago, he’d done this exact same check on the boat he’d worked on at the time—and gone below deck to check his phone, only to find a message from Mia. The kind of message that ended one life and started another.

I need to tell you something…

He’d deleted it, eventually. The whole thread. But the memory had stayed, like the tide—silent and relentless.

He straightened, ran a hand through his sun-bleached brown hair, and looked out toward the marina’s entrance. A boat was approaching the dock—a small water taxi, bringing in the guests.

It wasn’t time to ponder the past. It was showtime.

He straightened his hat and slipped his sunglasses on, the mirror of calm, easygoing charm. Whatever this group brought with them—drama, nerves, expectations—he’d handle it. He always did.

But as the boat pulled up and the first pair stepped off laughing, followed by another only slightly more reserved couple, he caught sight of her.

She stood at the edge of the deck, tote bag slung over one shoulder, a singular tropical white flower in her long, dark, wavy hair. Her dress fluttered in the breeze, revealing a delicate build with curves in just the right places. Her skin already flushing in the tropical heat, she glanced around. Did she look… nervous?

Well, she wouldn’t be the first if she was. Not many people were accustomed to sailing the open seas, especially since they’d be living onboard for eight whole days.

He let it go. One glass of champagne and she’d be doing much better.

As the last of the group prepared to step from the water taxi onto the catamaran, he counted. Four women. And only one, two, three men? Had one of the guys canceled? No one had told him his charter would be short one guest.

He studied the dark-haired woman again. She was wearing a smile, along with the traditional flower leishe must’ve been greeted with at the airport, but there was a cautious look to her expression that he couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Was she the one without a date? It looked that way. Had her plus-one stood her up for this trip, an occasion that was usually a trip of a lifetime for most people? How could anyone do that?

Okay, so he probably shouldn’t assume anything. Who knows what might’ve happened to the guy? He’d ask later, after they were settled in. If there was any casual way to ask.

One of the men laughed loudly, commenting on the bumpy puddle jumper they’d taken this morning from Tahiti.

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