Still pressing his thumb under my chin, he cuts me off and flicks his index finger across the tip of my nose. “You won’t. And besides, I’ll be swimming right next to you.”

That’s a comforting thought, but I remain frozen in fear and some other forbidden emotion I don’t want to acknowledge.

“Here. Wear these.” He takes the goggles on top of his head off and puts them on me. I don’t move a muscle while he adjusts them to fit my face. My eyes stayed fixed on him through the plastic lenses. Oh, God! He’s beautiful! So, so beautiful!

“Are you ready?”

I don’t respond. I’m too fixated on his face and his body. If God created man in his image, He must be insanely divine.

Brandon grows a little irritated. “You know, we don’t have all day.” Ugh! That dreaded bossy voice. “So let’s get to it. Kick off and start swimming.”

He moves out of my way. I shoot him one more doubtful look and I do it. It doesn’t come easily and I know I look nothing like an Olympian, but for the first time in my life, I’m actually swimming. Propelling myself across the pool with my arms and legs. Slowly but surely. On my first breath, I see Brandon on his back, stroking idly beside me. He winks at me, and I manage a tepid smile back at him. But halfway down the length of the pool, he picks up his pace, and before I know it, he’s way ahead of me. Panic grips me. I’m all by myself in the middle of the pool. The memory of my mother drowning fills my head. Her arms reaching out for me. Of me, watching, hopeless and helpless, until she disappears beneath the sea. I will it away. Swim, Zoey! You can do it! Do it for her!

On my next breath, a natural rhythm kicks in. Effort becomes effortless. Brandon’s voice resounds in my ear when I come up for air. “Come on, Zo. You can do it. You’re almost there.” I manage to glimpse his impassioned face before my head slides back under the water. The end is in sight. Maybe a dozen strokes away.

Finally, my hand touches down on the rim of the pool. My head shoots out of the water, and looming above me is Brandon, all wet and beautiful. He grabs my hand and hoists me out of the water, something I have not an ounce of body strength to manage. After lifting the goggles on top of my head, he swiftly wraps a large fluffy towel around my dripping wet body and then draws me into his arms. Breathing heavily, I don’t resist and rest my head against his damp manly chest. My thudding heart drowns out his. He holds me tightly. While my breathing calms down, my heartbeat speeds up. My nipples harden at the touch of his sculpted pecs, sending a blast of arousal to the triangle between my inner thighs. He presses me closer and I feel his hard length rub against me right through the thick towel. Finally, I break my head away from his chest and gaze up at his breathtaking face. His dark hair is slicked back, his eyes two sparkling amethyst gems. My eyes don’t blink and my mouth doesn’t move. My heartbeat hastens from a trot to a gallop.

Grinning smugly, he breaks the heated silence and rakes his hand through my soaked strands of hair. “You did it!”

“I had a great teacher,” I say softly with a smile.

“There’s a lot I could teach you, baby.”

Oh my God. He called me baby again. But this time his lush lips stay parted. He bows his head, and I swear he’s making a beeline for my mouth. Every feature on my face freezes in anticipation. He’s getting closer. I can practically taste him. Oh so close. And then…

“What may I ask is going on here?”

Brandon jerks away, body and all. My towel falls to the ground.

It’s her.

Hurricane Katrina.

Brandon

“I’m just giving Zoey a swimming lesson. After last night, I thought she could use one.”

With glacial eyes, Katrina gives Zoey the once over. “Some people should never put on a bathing suit.”

Zoey is cringing; I can tell by the way she scrunches her face and clenches her fists. Before I can come to her defense, she excuses herself.

“Thank you, Brandon, for the lesson. I really appreciate it. I’m going to get changed and go to Starbucks.”

Her tone is totally professional, and she avoids eye contact with Katrina.

Dressed in some designer white workout outfit, Katrina keeps her disdainful gaze on my assistant. I’m waiting for some kind of apology. A small smile slithers across her face and a glimmer of hope fills me.

“While you’re there, get me a low-fat soy latte. And don’t forget the Sweet ’n Low.”

My Mean ’n Low fiancée needs more than a package of fake sweetener. What was I thinking? There’s no hope. Zoey’s big brown eyes flare, but she maintains her cool. I want to say something, but she doesn’t give me a chance.

“Sure.” Zoey hurls the word at Katrina and takes off. My eyes stay on her backside as she heads toward the guesthouse. Her ample ass is shaped like a heart and I more than like it. I want to coddle and squeeze it. And that’s just for starters.

Katrina’s breathy voice hurls me out of my unscrupulous thoughts. “Darling, while we’re waiting for our coffees, let’s go over some wedding details.” She’s clutching an iPad.

“I’d like to take a hot shower and put on some jeans first.”

She flings her head back with marked impatience. “Darling, can’t that wait? I have yoga at nine and then I have a full day of shooting. This is important.” She adjusts her sports bra. The remains of that tattoo on her chest shimmer in the morning sun. I still can’t make out the name. B-U-T-C-H? Another old boyfriend?

“Please, darling,” she purrs in my ear.

“Fine.” I might as well just get it over with.

I take a seat opposite her at one of the poolside tables. I wish I had my damn sunglasses. Even with the umbrella, the morning sunlight is blinding me.

“So what’s happening?”

I’m sorry I asked. Setting the iPad on the table, she goes over a crapload of wedding shit I have no interest or expertise in. Like seating and floral arrangements, wedding favors, bridesmaid gowns, the menu, and more.

My responses—when I can get a word in—are limited to the following: “Uh-huh. Good. Perfect. Nice.”

The one-way conversation goes on for what seems like forever. While my interest dwindles, Katrina grows more and more excited with every over the top detail. “Darling, I’m so thrilled you love everything. Mommy’s doing an incredible job. This wedding is simply going to be unforgettable!”

I twitch a half-smile as my mind wanders. All I can think about is my assistant. Why isn’t she back yet? Starbucks is just a half-mile down the hill on Sunset. Five minutes away. But it’s not my caffeine addiction that has me on edge. It’s my growing addiction to her. I need her more than I need my coffee fix. Like I’m co-dependent on her. But isn’t that what a relationship with a personal assistant should be?

Jolting me out of my disconcerting thoughts, Katrina clasps my hands. “Brandy-Poo, I’m just going to need one thing from you.”

“What?”

“Your credit card so Mommy can put down deposits on everything.”

I hesitate and then consent. According to my manager Scott, I did agree to pay for the wedding. The less I have to do with any of this shit, the better.

Katrina smiles brightly, revealing her perfect pearly white teeth. “Wonderful. Tomorrow, Mommy and I are going to Neiman’s to pick out our registry. Can you come?”

I thank my lucky stars I have a full day of shooting Kurt Kussler tomorrow. I have no interest in picking out dinnerware and silverware and all those other ridiculous wedding necessities. As far as I’m concerned, I have everything I need. I break the news to Katrina and feign regret.

“Don’t worry, darling. Mommy and I can handle everything. And we both have exquisite taste.”