“Excellent.” I felt more in control and confident about my role already.

Stepping off the plane, I realized I was in desperate need of a shower. I wanted to wash my face and my limp, greasy hair and change out of the rumpled jeans and T-shirt I’d been wearing for a solid eighteen hours. After collecting our luggage Ben and I moved toward the airport exit where I spotted a uniformed driver holding a sign that read Ben Shaw. I poked him in the side with my elbow and pointed.

“Fiona must have arranged a pickup. I was planning to grab a cab.”

Oh, Fiona. How lovely. God, I was really going to have to keep my temper in check. I was here in my own right this time, and she couldn’t just send me packing. I straightened my shoulders and followed the driver and Ben.

Once outside the humidity smacked me in the face. My hair instantly increased in volume. I blinked against the sunlight and took in our surroundings—a tiny little airport surrounded by massive palm trees.

I slid into the white limousine, which was really quite ridiculous for two people, while Ben assisted the driver with placing our bags inside the trunk.

This was my first visit to the South Pacific and I was in awe of the idyllic setting, crystal-blue waters, brilliant blue and cloudless sky, tropical flowers and plants, and rolling hills in the distance. Everything was lush and green. Vibrant, and so pretty.

The driver stopped in front of a pink-and-white stucco hotel. It was charming, but somewhat understated, letting the natural beauty of the island stand out.

We headed inside and I felt out of place in my jeans and T-shirt, which would’ve been fine back home. Here I felt homely and anything but sophisticated. The lobby was little more than a large, thatched roof pitched over marble floors. It was open on all sides, allowing the ocean breeze to lift strands of hair from my neck and providing a breathtaking view of the beach beyond.

We were handed cocktails poured into real coconuts while we checked in. I sipped the icy, sweet concoction, letting the flavors of spiced rum and creamy coconut milk dance on my tongue while Ben handed over his credit card. I could get used to this life.

The approach of clicking heels across the marble floor caught my attention and I turned.

Fiona was here.

She was island perfection in a colorful pastel sundress and gold sandals. Her dress was loose fitting but her belly had grown since I’d seen her last. Her skin was lightly tanned and she was glowing.

Fuck me.

I wished I could stop comparing myself to this woman but knowing she’d had a five-year affair with my boyfriend made that a teensy bit hard to do.

“Love! You made it!” She had eyes only for Ben and threw herself into his arms.

“Fiona.” Ben greeted her coolly and removed her claws from around his waist.

Her eyes landed on mine. “Oh. Emerson. I didn’t expect to see you.”

Ben’s arm came around my waist, drawing me closer. “Emmy’s staying with me, and I’d appreciate it if you’d cooperate with her.”

Fiona’s answering smile was as fake as they came, her lips curving up to reveal too-white teeth. “Of course, my love. I’ll play nice.” One hand moved to rest against her belly.

“Hi, Fiona.” I found my voice, however soft and shaky. “I emailed you about obtaining Ben’s schedule while we’re here.”

“I’ll send it to him tonight.”

“Send it to Emmy,” Ben interrupted.

“Of course,” she said, looking slightly wounded. “We have a pre-production dinner tonight with the photographer,” she added.

“Emmy’s working for me now so it’ll be good for her to hear whatever’s discussed tonight.”

“She’s working for you?” Fiona’s brow crinkled, the frown lines around her mouth puckering like she’d tasted something sour.

“Yes. She’s my assistant.” Ben’s fingers dug into my hip as his grasp on me tightened.

“How . . . cute.” The word “cute” dripped with sarcasm.

Bitch.

“We’re just getting checked in, if you’ll excuse us,” Ben said.

“I booked your room next to mine, like we usually do. I’ll see you soon,” Fiona said before sauntering away.

Ben and I were both silent as a bellhop led us to our room. I hoped it wouldn’t continue to feel this tense the entire time we were here. And if there was an adjoining door to Fiona’s room, I was going to lose it.

The hotel was quite elegant, so there were no adjoining doors. I quickly became distracted by and fascinated with our room, which was actually a large suite. I spent a solid twenty minutes exploring while sipping my yummy coconut and rum drink. A plush living room decorated in island furniture led to the master bedroom with a king-sized bed draped in a white, gauzy canopy and French doors that gave way to a private terrace and view of the ocean.

“Is everything to your liking, Miss Clarke?” Ben’s deep voice rushed over my skin, making me tingle from head to toe.

I spun to face him, abandoning my inspection of the vase of exotic flowers placed artfully on the dresser. “It’s lovely.”

He took the empty coconut from my hands, set it on the nearby dresser, and pulled me into his arms. “Thank you for being here.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” I murmured, getting lost in the intensity of his hazel gaze.

“Just think, ten days here together. . . .”

“I’ve got quite a demanding boss to keep happy.”

“It’s the other way around, babe. I’ll gladly do anything and everything to make you happy.”

“Well, thank you for sticking up for me with Fiona and telling her I work for you.”

“Hmm . . . I think being the boss should entitle me to some perks.” He slid one finger under the hem of my T-shirt and traced a tiny circle against my hip bone.

I barely resisted the urge to squirm under his soft, languid touch that promised so much more. “Such as?”

“I get to tell you what to do. All of my desires, all my requests, will be in your hands to fulfill.” The dark, predatory look in his eyes made my breath catch in my throat.

“And what do you want?”

His hand slid lower and caressed my bottom as he drew me closer. Leaning in, his mouth brushed against my earlobe and his warm breath sent my pulse racing. “I want to strip you naked, lay you on the bed, spread you open, and taste you until you come,” he whispered against my skin.

Okay, clearly we were going to have to talk about the proper etiquette of being my employer. He was a walking, talking human resources nightmare. Good thing I had no plans to turn him in for sexual harassment. I pulled back just a fraction. “What if I’m not so keen on fucking my boss?” I licked my lips and his gaze zeroed in on my mouth.

His thumb stroked my bottom lip. “Or I could order you to your knees and put this pretty mouth to use.”

His large palm continued lightly rubbing my ass, and I swear just that simple touch and the burning desire I saw reflected in his eyes was making me wet. “I wanted to be gentle, make love to you properly, but you’re making that impossible. The longer you make me wait, the harder I’m going to fuck you when you do finally give in.”

“Ben . . . we have to get ready for your pre-production dinner. I need to shower, dry my hair. . . .”

“We’ll discuss this later,” he said, and gave my butt a playful swat.

I yelped at the unexpected contact and absently massaged the heated spot as I made my way to the bathroom for a shower.

After a long, hot shower, I wrapped myself in the downy hotel robe and padded into the bedroom in search of the suitcase Ben had packed for me.

I was surprised to find so many pretty and elegant things inside. A basic black string bikini, a pink-and-white polka-dotted bikini with a matching pale pink sarong, casual flip flops, espadrille wedges, several sundresses—all designer brands and each in my size. There were shorts, skirts, and tank tops in every color. I selected a pretty royal blue strapless sundress and a pair of silver strappy sandals with little jewels at the ankles. There was even a little pewter-colored handbag that I could tuck a tube of lip gloss into at least. I lay out the dress and finished getting ready, blow-drying my hair and applying light makeup.