Page 28 of The VIP Package

“It appears so.”

“That might explain all the simultaneous orgasms. Not terribly common among couples who’ve just met.”

There’s a sharp pressure building behind my breastbone. A need to say something before Camille reads too much into this.

“I don’t get involved.”

“What?” She blinks, then looks down at the breakfast. “Is this your way of telling me you’d rather eat on your own?”

“No, I mean—”Fuck, what do I mean? “I don’t date. Not seriously, not ever. Certainly, I’ve had my dalliances over the years?—”

“Dalliances, huh?” She grins. “That’s how you keep in such good practice. Your sex skills are on point, my man.”

I study her face for flashes of judgment. For jealousy or irritation. There’s none of that anywhere.

Perhaps she’s just not hearing me. Perhaps I need to be clearer.

“I fuck women a few times, then move on with my life. It’s nothing personal. I’m not seeking connection or commitment. I just—I don’t get involved. Feelings aren’t part of the equation.”

A smile breaks over her face. She even laughs just a little. “Oh, Ash Hole.” She pats my arm, then picks up the platter. “You’re sweet to look out for my feelings but trust me—the last thing I want right now is commitment.”

“Well, yes.” I clear my throat. “I’ve had something of a history with women changing their minds on that front.”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s still chuckling. “Because you’re a billionaire god in bed?” She bumps me with her elbow. “Please. You’re fantastic, don’t get me wrong. Or maybe the chemistry means we’re fantastic together.”

“Certainly.” I’m not sure she’s grasping the weight of the problem. “I just don’t want anyone getting attached. Because I don’t.Ever.”

“Not ever?” Her tone suggests she’s teasing me. “Never ever nevereverwith sugar on top?” She plucks a perfect ripe strawberry from the pile on the platter, holding it up to my lips. “Relax, Ash Hole. We’re good. We’re on the same page.”

I open my mouth to argue but she pops the berry between my lips. It’s juicy and sweet and I get lost for a moment in the flavor explosion on my tongue.

“Take it easy, big guy.” She watches me chew with kindness in her eyes. “You don’t do commitment. I want a relationship like I want a nipple in the middle of my forehead. Which is not at all, in case your obsession with breasts clouds your judgement on that one. Seriously, Ash—we’re okay.”

She walks away with the platter, leaving me staring after her. Not for the first time, I wonder if I’ve bitten off more than I can chew.

“Wow, Ash Hole.”Camille grips the rail of the bow and turns back to face me with wind whipping her hair. “When you promised a boat ride, I pictured one of those little rubber rafts with an outboard motor.”

“Perish the thought.” I’m at the controls of my Arcona 50 luxury racing yacht with a steel frame, mahogany trim, and push-button sailing capacity.

In other words, one of the nicest luxury yachts money can buy.

I point to a stark white sliver of sand ahead on our starboard side. “That’s where we’re headed.”

“Woah.”

I attempt to view it through her eyes. Lush jungle crawls from the pale, sandy shore to the center of the crescent-shaped island. There’s only one structure, a sizeable estate with a kidney-shaped pool and floor-to-ceiling windows spanning all three floors. From the back of the property, a tangle of chartreuse vines twists up the side of a dormant volcano. Deep in the jungle, a howler monkey beckons for a booty call.

Feathering the throttle of the yacht, I glance off the portside to where a pod of dolphins leaps alongside us, riding our wake through the froth.

Camille laughs and points. “Oh my God, look at them. That’s amazing.”

“Certainly is.” Her joy is infectious, not unlike the Legionnaires’ disease I work meticulously to prevent at all my resort properties. We’ve never had a case, not anywhere.

Still watching the dolphins, Camille gathers her hair in a fist. Light, copper strands slide through her fingers like droplets of liquid metal. In her bright-blue bikini, she peers down at the water with her plush lips parted. “So beautiful.”

“Yes.” I clear my throat. “Indeed.”

I focus on threading the needle between sandbars. There’s a mooring ball fixed to a spot between two beds of coral, and I connect us as Camille keeps an eye on the water.

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