Page 27 of The VIP Package

Which is why I’m double-checking the bread to ensure there’s no sesame. She’s also allergic to peanuts, so I’m glad I didn’t serve yesterday’s lunch with its customary peanut butter dipping cup to accompany the apple slices.

“Dinner was incredible, thank you.” She starts beating eggs and cream in a bowl. “The jumbo scallops with lemon burre blanc were an especially lovely touch.”

She shoots me a look that says the subtext wasn’t lost on her. If her dickhead ex would rather eat scallops than show upfor their wedding, the least I could do was bring her the best goddamn scallops she’s ever tasted.

“I hope they weren’t rubbery.” I reach into a cupboard and pull down a serving platter and two plates. “I had to prepare them on the boat to eliminate the risk they’d dry out.”

“You mean the chef had to prepare them?” She looks up from sprinkling cinnamon sugar in the egg mixture.

“Precisely.” I check the pan I’ve been heating, then lay out the bacon in sizzling strips. “I’ve asked Lars to prepare several more meals while you’re here.”

“Lars is your personal chef?” Camille takes the vanilla I hand her, tipping some into the bowl. “Sounds like a sexy Swede.”

“He’s seventy-six years old and German. Other than that, you’re spot on.”

“Well it was nice of him to offer to prepare food for me, but please ask him not to go to any trouble.”

Arranging sliced berries on a platter, I comb my brain for what else Camille ought to know as my temporary guest. “You’ll likely meet Kora and Sybil at some point. Their home sits at the edge of the resort property and they chose to stay for the duration of the break.”

“Ah, Kora and Sybil.” She unwraps the bread and begins dunking slices in the egg mix. “My brother mentioned them. Married couple, right? Sybil’s a consort and Kora manages the consorts?”

“Kora managesallresort personnel, plus my household staff.” I’m a little surprised Camille knows of them. I knew they’d stayed in touch with Kit Plier, but I’m surprised he’d discuss such details with his sister. “I’m certain they’d enjoy meeting you. Other team members may return early, depending on when the airline strike ends. If they’re vacationing nearby on adjacent islands, the strike shouldn’t impact their travels.”

“Good to know.”

I turn the bacon with tongs as Camille tests the skillet I’ve warmed for French toast. She turns down the heat just a little, then lays egg-soaked slices on the hot surface. “I thought perhaps we could take a boat ride today.”

Camille nibbles her lip. “Please don’t worry about entertaining me. I already feel like a jerk for showing up when you’re closed. The last thing you need is someone to babysit.”

That’s where she’s wrong. Having her here feels like my own private vacation. “It’s no trouble, truly.” I clear my throat. “Given our less-than-ideal circumstances at Crystal Bliss, the least I can do is ensure you fulfill a few of your bucket list fantasies.”

She looks up in surprise. “Did you memorize that form when I handed it to you in the boiler room?”

“It’s in the online portal.” And I’m a little embarrassed to admit how much time I spent poring over it last night. “I saw skinny-dipping on your list, and while most of our pools are being resealed, I’m happy to take you to a private swimming cove with a beach you might find inviting. It’s also a chance to attend to your nude sunbathing fantasy.”

“Damn.” Camille gives a low whistle. “What did I do to get the VIP treatment here?”

“Fucked me in the boiler room, then sucked me off on a sex swing.”

She bursts out laughing as I transfer the bacon to a platter. “Jesus, Ash. You do love the shock value, don’t you?”

Only with her, it seems. “That was gauche, I apologize.”

“Please. I love your comedic timing. Your sense of humor is like one of those orgasms that sneaks up on you. Just comes out of nowhere andbam!Instant dopamine hit.”

“Well put.” That might be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever paid me. “Could you reach that bottle right there? The brown one with the blue top—it’s maple syrup.”

Camille grabs the bottle, then swivels to face me with shock in her eyes. “Wait.”

“What?” I frown down at the bacon, at the French toast she’s piled on the platter beside it. “What’s wrong?”

“Did we seriously just make an entire French toast and bacon breakfast without discussing what we were doing?”

I survey the meal we’ve prepared. The perfect crisp bacon. Slices of fresh strawberry. The warm, fragrant wedges of French toast, each with a golden pat of butter pooling on top.

“Yes.” I try not to read too much into that. “I believe we did.”

“Wow.” Camille’s grin spreads slow and wide. “Guess we’re in sync or something.”

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