The bathroom seemed carved out of the jungle—a sunken stone tub surrounded by a living wall of tropical plants, a rainfall shower open to a private garden, where butterflies dancedamong orchids. Chloe stared at her reflection in the copper mirror, noting the flush in her cheeks.
She took a quick shower, then put on the coral silk dress she’d bought that morning. And just like that, it transformed her from jungle-weary journalist to resort sophisticate. The fabric skimmed her curves without clinging, the color bringing out the gold highlights in her blonde hair.
She almost felt like a newlywed.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the villa was empty. But through the glass doors, splashing sounded from the pool.
Skeet cut through the water with powerful strokes, his shoulders gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. He’d changed into his recently purchased board shorts. When he surfaced near the pool’s edge, water streaming from his sandy brown hair, Chloe’s mouth went dry.
He was a finely formed man—shoulders, chest, some washboard to his abs. She probably could have guessed that, given her memory of him holding her earlier.
She averted her eyes as he hauled himself out of the pool in one fluid motion. He reached for a towel. “Sorry, I needed to clear my head before dinner.”
“No problem.” For Pete’s sake, did her voice actually squeak?
When he disappeared into the bathroom, she remembered to breathe.
Ten minutes later, he emerged transformed. The white linen button-down he’d bought that morning looked custom tailored, paired with khaki shorts and casual leather shoes. His hair, still damp and tousled, made him look as if he’d stepped off a yacht.
“Ready for dinner, Mrs. Reynolds?” He offered his arm with a smile that could have powered the resort’s generators.
The restaurant matched the rest of the elegant resort—carved wooden pillars supporting an arched ceiling, big paddle fans stirring the air. Rattan chairs surrounded tables set with crispwhite linens. A wall of patio doors opened to the outdoor seating and the darkening sky, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle.
“Table for two?” The hostess led them to a corner spot with perfect views of both the dining room and the terrace beyond.
Skeet held Chloe’s chair, his fingers brushing her shoulders as she sat. The simple gesture sent warmth through her chest.
Just an act. Just an act!
Except it didn’t feel like an act when he leaned close to study the menu, his shoulder touching hers, his freshly showered scent sweet and painfully distracting.
“What looks good to you?”
You.
Oh no—did she actually think that? She tried to focus on the menu.
“The miso-glazed black cod with coconut espuma is exquisite,” their server suggested. “And our shaved fennel and citrus salad is prepared with greens picked fresh from our garden.”
Chloe closed her menu and nodded.
“Perfect. And a bottle of your Riesling.” Skeet handed back the menus, so much easy confidence in his voice. “We’re celebrating our honeymoon.” And then he took her hand and all her words left her. Just... gone.
“Congratulations! I’ll bring you our honeymoon appetizer—compliments of the chef.”
Skeet let Chloe’s hand go when the server left, and leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to business mode. “So. The plan.”
The plan. Theplan!
Right.“Um. I guess find Volkov, follow him, see what we can learn.” At least she remembered to keep her voice low.
“The layout works in our favor. Jungle pathways, lots of cover.” His gaze scanned the room. “The question is whether he’s dining here tonight.”
Their appetizer arrived—a beautiful arrangement of gold-wrapped parcels. “Meang kham,” the server explained. “Betel-leaf wraps with coconut, ginger, peanuts, and tamarind sauce. Very traditional.”
Chloe unwrapped one and bit into it. Flavors exploded across her tongue—sweet, sour, spicy, and savory all at once. “Oh wow.”
“Good?” Skeet’s eyes crinkled with amusement.