Page 20 of Hate To Be Mine

I woke up to the captain’s voice crackling over the intercom.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve begun our descent into Miratoa. The temperature is a beautiful eighty-six degrees. We should be on the ground in about fifteen minutes. Flight attendants, please prepare the cabin for landing.”

I blinked, disoriented, and wiped what I sincerely hoped wasn’t drool from the corner of my mouth. My neck ached from the angle I’d been sleeping at, and my audiobook had progressed through to the end without me. So much for the fascinating history of Fair Isle patterns.

Around me, the cabin stirred to life. I pulled my seat forward and glanced around to see if I was the only one that had fallen asleep. A few of them yawned. Some of the models were putting on makeup.

I pushed up my window shade to take a peek. And forgot how to breathe.

The ocean below was an impossible shade of blue and turquoise. The island featured lush green mountains, white sand beaches, and coral reefs visible beneath the crystal-clear water.

For exactly three seconds, I forgot about falling coconuts and environmental protocols and all the things that could go wrong. I just stared at the paradise below us and felt something like wonder. I had never seen anything so perfect.

Then reality crashed back in.

That pristine beach could have rip currents. Those lush mountains probably had falling rocks. The coral reefs were fragile ecosystems that could be damaged by careless swimmers. Or sunscreen. That reminded me I had to make sure everyone on the plane had brought the appropriate and approved sunscreen.

A tropical paradise meant tropical diseases, venomous creatures, unpredictable weather patterns, and a whole host of potential problems.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?”

I turned to find Sebastian standing in the aisle beside my seat, looking out the window over my shoulder. He must have gotten up to stretch.

“It’s nice,” I said, my professional mask firmly back in place.

“Nice?” He laughed. “That’s like calling the Mona Lisa ‘a decent painting.’ Come on, Bernadette. Even you have to admit that’s stunning.”

“I admit it’s visually appealing. I also admit it presents numerous safety challenges that we’ll need to address immediately upon landing.”

He shook his head, still smiling. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Before I could figure out if that was a compliment or an insult, he walked back to his seat for landing.

The small airport was open-air, designed to blend with the environment rather than dominate it. Warm, humid air hit me the moment we stepped off the plane, carrying the scent of exotic flowers and the general scent of wet soil. Bird calls echoed from the nearby trees, making it feel like we had stepped into paradise. It was gorgeous.

We loaded into the vans that would take us to the resort. When we arrived, it was nothing like I’d expected.

I’d been picturing something like the hotels in Manhattan—tall, imposing, modern. But this was different. The main building was only one story, a sprawling structure with a thatched roof and open sides that let the breeze flow through. Behind it, I could see bungalows scattered among the palm trees and tropical plants. There was another long building that reminded me of a roadside motel.

“Welcome to Paradise Cove Resort,” our driver announced cheerfully. “Your home for the next two weeks.”

The crew piled out of the vans, everyone talking over each other about the amazing views and the warm weather and how this was already the best shoot ever. I hung back, letting them go ahead while I surveyed the property with a more critical eye.

I followed the crowd into the main building to check in. While I waited in line, I went through a mental checklist of things I would need to do right away.

I gave my name to the woman at the check-in desk and let my eyes drift to where I could see the beach with the ocean beyond.

“Ms. Simmons?”

“Yes?”

“I’m having trouble finding your reservation. Can you confirm your booking number?”

“I don’t have it with me, but it should be under Simmons Insurance Group. They made the reservation.”

The hostess tapped on her tablet, frowning. “I’m not seeing anything under that name.”

It was fine. Just a clerical error. They’d find the reservation and I’d get my room and everything would be fine.