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“I was so happy to be chosen for this trip. Can you imagine? A month in paradise? Sure, we’ll probably have to deal with snobs, but I can put up with anyone when I’m stuffing myself with the best carbs Europe has to offer,” she prattles on.

“To the right are private patient rooms,” she says, rolling her eyes. “Fancier than my hotel room, but still too basic for someone recovering from a cliff dive gone wrong.”

“Or a shellfish binge they’re convinced is a heart attack,” I add. “Although, let me know if anyone is cliff diving. I’d hate to miss a live Darwin Award in action.” I grin, referencing the awards given to individuals who removed themselves from the gene pool, a.k.a. dying, by the stupid choices they made.

“Exactly! I knew I’d like you.”

“I think I’ll enjoy my time here too.”

We move past the standard defibrillators, crash carts, oxygen tanks, and various equipment I expect to be on board.

“What’s in there?” I point to a closed metal door.

“Surgical unit. They even built in floor stabilizers in the event emergency surgery was necessary. Let’s hope we don’t need it.”

My eyebrow lifts. “Of course, they’d have a surgical unit. Why am I even surprised?”

“They’d probably fly surgeons over here if shit happens. There’s no such thing as expenses with these guys.”

Nodding, I follow as she pivots down a corridor matching the decor from the outside—marble floors, glass walls, some of which are opaque, others clear, revealing private rooms.

“These are your offices. There’s another patient entrance on the other side, away from the clinic. There are two other doctors on board—Dr. John Mackintosh, cardiologist, because most of these geezers are walking heart attacks, and Dr. Rhys Fenton, our generalist and trauma surgeon.”

As if on cue, a striking man in a white coat with raven hair almost as black as mine steps out, thin silver frames perched on his nose. “Jessa, can you get me—”

He looks up and spots us, his lips slowly curving into a charming smile. I don’t miss the quick but thorough scan he does of me.

“You’re Dr. Olivia Lin. I’m Rhys. I’ve been a big fan since I read your exciting analysis on SSRIs and addiction therapies.” He strides over and gives my barely outstretched hand a hearty shake. Then he directs another megawatt smile at me.

I wait for my heart to skip a beat. The man is tall, dark, and handsome, looks like he doesn’t live at home, has all his hair and teeth, and can most likely run a dishwasher. His cooking skills are to be determined, but I’m hopeful.

But my body doesn’t seem to care.

No flutter in my gut. No quickening pulse.

Instead, my mind wanders to the brooding playboy, the man,my patient, who doesn’t seem to like me that much.

How my nipples beaded into hard points when his low laughter followed me back into the bedroom on the jet, where I tossed and turned most of the night, hallucinating the deep, rumbly voice whispering sweet nothings into my ear.

Dammit.

Rhys cocks his head to the side, clearly waiting for me to respond, and I inwardly slap myself. “Nice to meet you. Call me Olivia.”

“And just like that, my day has gotten brighter,” he murmurs. Turning to Jessa, he asks, “Can you get me Mr. Reinhart’s files? He wants to meet later today.”

Before stepping back into his room, he motions to the empty office next to him. “Looks like we’ll be office mates, Olivia. I’d love to take you out for coffee—get to know you better.” A flirty wink later, he disappears inside and closes his door.

“Looks like you’re going to have your hands full,” Jessa quips, sneaking me a sly grin.

“No way. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not happening.”

After idle chitchat and booting up my computer only to realize my schedule, including the teleconferences with my existing patients back in New York, has been preloaded, I shoot a quick message to my parents, telling them I’ve safely boarded the ship and not to worry about me.

Then I make my way to the sky deck with my camera.

I want the sun on my face and to snap some photos. Mia would appreciate them.

The sky deck is quiet as I turn at the top of the steps. Most guests are no doubt settling in their staterooms and resting.