Page 18 of The Billionaire's Teacher

Wes tugged his goggles down around his neck. “You don’t have to—”

“All part of the service.” I prayed my smile was cool and professional. I had to do something to put some distance back between us.

A line formed between his eyebrows, but he worked the catch on the BCD and shrugged one arm out of it. I reached down and grabbed the now empty armhole and pulled as Wes worked his other arm free. When he was clear, I heaved it onto the deck, fighting the urge to groan as I did so. Why were things so much heavier on land than in the water?

Of course I knew the science, but I couldn’t stop the thought anyway.

Water rushed over my feet as Wes hauled himself up on the swim step. He stood up with a grace that I envied. “Thanks for the assist. Getting back in the boat is always the worst.”

I laughed. “I thought the same thing.”

His fingers grazed the back of my hand as he reached for the hoses on his tank and let a little more air into the BCD. Then he cranked the valve closed and lifted the equipment like it was weightless.

I shifted out of his way, collected my fins, and joined him on the deck of the ship. We worked in easy silence to stow the tanks and rinse the gear with some of the fresh water on board. It was the kind of simple companionship Luca and I had enjoyed.

I cast a glance at Wes and pressed my lips together. Why did he remind me so much of my deceased husband? Was it God’s way of letting me know that I needed to dig myself back out of this hermit-like bubble I’d created for myself in the last five years?

Or was I just blinded by perimenopausal hormones and the first good-looking guy who’d been around in a while?

7

WES

The past three days had been a fantastic combination of diving excursions and sailing between islands. I loved seeing the differences between the various places. And the similarities, for that matter. Much of the diving was the same—there was a reason so many people dove in the Caribbean—but it was all worthwhile.

I’d made several connections with resorts. I’d also found locals on each island who appeared to offer better trips all around than those resorts. For cheaper. And that was all thanks to Sunshine. She knew where to steer me and who to introduce. Honestly, the charter company was undercharging for what I was getting out of this.

I took one last quick look in the mirror before heading out of my stateroom and climbing the stairs to the main deck.

Sunshine was already in the little kitchen area. She glanced up and smiled at me and my heart nearly stopped.

Which was ridiculous. For so many reasons. Reasons I absolutely should not have to keep reminding myself of. Even so, I ticked them off mentally: she was a good ten years older than me, there was someone in her life if that photo in her room was to be believed, and finally? We were only going to be around each other for another two and a half weeks. Her life and livelihood was in the Caribbean. Mine was not.

With that stern warning to myself fixed at the front of my mind, I nodded politely, and studiously ignored the sundress that fluttered around her knees and the skinny straps that highlighted the golden tan of her shoulders.

“Morning. There’s coffee and fruit. We still have plenty of time to make it to church.” Sunshine scooted out of the kitchen and took a seat at the banquette with a mug in her hand. “I hope you’ll like the service. I always try to hit this one up when I’m in the area.”

“I’m sure I will.” I’d taken a look at the church’s website last night. Their theology was sound—at least if I went by what they said on their “We believe” page—and really that was all I cared about.

I filled a mug with coffee and added cream and sugar. I’d quickly learned that Sunshine made her coffee considerably stronger than I ever bothered with at home. Which meant I added more to it. She never said anything, but that didn’t stop me from wondering what she thought. Did it diminish my masculinity that I didn’t drink it black?

Not that she drank hers black.

Of course, no one would accuse her of being masculine.

And I needed to stop. Immediately. Because it could not—would not—matter what she thought of my coffee drinking habit. Or anything about me. I was her client. Period.

I felt my face morph into a scowl as I scooped fresh-cut fruit into a bowl and carried it and my coffee to the table.

Sunshine looked over and her eyebrows shot up. “You all right?”

I wasn’t going to try to explain the way everything about her got under my skin in all the right ways. I shook my head. “Tired, I guess.”

“We can skip the afternoon dive, if you want. Honestly, it’s not anywhere close to one of the best in the islands. I only added it to the list because you wanted to stay an extra night and go to church.” Sunshine watched me over the rim of her mug.

I speared a chunk of fruit and bit in, letting the tangy and sweet blend together in my mouth. There was a part of me that didn’t want to skip the dive. Swimming beside her under the water with just the sound of my breathing and the ocean was a painful intimacy I wasn’t in a hurry to miss. But that might be the exact reason I should agree. “What would we do if we didn’t dive?”

She shrugged. “Start out for the next island? Unless you need more time on shore.”

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