Her pulse picked up.
Wow.
She imagined the possibilities, skipping through a mental slideshow that sent shivers down her back. If Sloane penciled making out with Rhys on the beach into tonight’s itinerary, Jules would kill her. That was something she had to work up to.
Her phone buzzed. “I guess it’s my turn.”
But it wasn’t Sloane. The unfamiliar number had sent a text message. The local country exchange might have been the hotel. Maybe there was a problem with their dinner reservation. She swiped the message open. “Oh, God.”
You work fast. Stay here in paradise. No one wants you to come home.
“What?” Rhys asked, his voice miles away from what had been the safe sanctity of this island.
She stared at the accompanying picture. The lush greenery framed them from behind. A slip of the orange-and-purple sky crowned the photo. Tiki torches danced in the background. Her head tipped toward his shoulder. Rhys held her hand. Her heart froze at the intimate shot. Then it plummeted.
“Give me your phone,” he demanded.
Jules turned around, fear caught her throat. “He’s here. Whoever he is, he followed me. He found me.”
Rhys snatched her phone from her hand and looked at the picture then tucked her under his arm, clutching her to his front. His forehead dipped to hers. “Eyes on me.”
“I can’t. He’s—”
“Do not react.” His control was staggering. “You don’t care.”
She did. She cared so much that anger and fury and anxiety bubbled in her chest. “I don’t care,” she managed, not believing a word. Tears burned the back of her throat. “I don’t care.”
“Just like that.”
“I’m trying.” She slowed her breathing. The panic ebbed, even if the anxiety was still there. “I’m better.”
“Good girl.”
Those two little words worked over her as if his hands had slid over her bare skin.
“Now give me your eyes.”
Fuck. She couldn’t.
He squeezed her tight, commanding her gaze. Her chin rose, and she fell into the deep, dark pool of his gaze.
“Just like that,” he whispered, repeating, reminding, pinching the rest of the world away.
She dragged in a shaky breath. The man was a mountain of calm, unflappable. He watched her and looked around them, studying everything. She was safe, and she leaned closer, needing the shiver he caused to skim over her skin. That electricity could drown her anxiety.
“I don’t know how this happened,” he said with infinite composure. “But a picture? We can handle a damn picture.”
“He was right behind us.” She didn’t trust her voice. Or her thoughts. “So close.” She inched back only to have him pull her to him again. “He could still be watching, Rhys.”
“We don’t show fear. We won’t change our plans.”
“I might.”
His lips quirked. “We’ll never give him what he wants. We stay the course because a picture and an asshole caption won’t change our plans.” He winked. “Besides, Sloane Ellis gave us an itinerary to focus on.”
Their itinerary. She shivered.
“And I sure as hell don’t want the headache that comes with ignoring Sloane.” The look in his eyes was one part scheming, the other part steadfast. “Besides, if he managed to get on this island, maybe we could up the ante. Draw his ass out and be done with it once and for all.”
