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The idea had briefly popped into her head earlier when she grabbed the sleeping bag while exiting the truck. But thinking and doing were two different things, and as she appraised Nick’s determined smile and the way his saturated shirt clung to the defined curves of his chest, all the reasons why sharing was such a colossally bad idea tapped her on the shoulder.

We’ve only just become friends again.

What if I get handsy in my sleep?!

Sunita will kill me.

Sam will kill Nick.

He’s my CLIENT!

“Share?” Evie shook her head. “I don’t think so!” We’d be practically lying on top of one another, hot and sweaty. God, it’s been ages since I’ve had sex! Breath quickening, a yearning ache of want throbbed inside her.

Also not helping, Nick pouting his gorgeous kissable lips. “Share with me or I won’t use it. I mean it, Evie. I’m not having you catch your death while I sleep all cozy.”

Her shoulders drooped. “Fine, but we face away from each other.”

“While we strip off? Or while sleeping?” asked Nick.

She examined her dirty jumpsuit. What was a chic, comfy choice that morning was now the bane of her existence. The whole thing had to come off. “Both!”

Getting undressed, however, was the easy part. Crammed back to back in their polyester and flannel burrito on top of the camp bed, Evie was jostled every time Nick moved and fidgeted.

With anyone else, Evie would’ve been peeved. But bumping underwear-clad butts with Nick, feeling the flex of his back muscles against hers, and the familiar warmth of his body stirred up longing in her heart and an eager need between her thighs—feelings and urges she’d never thought could be resuscitated.

How can I crave the man who hurt me so badly?

Closing her eyes, Evie slipped a hand into her panties, her wetness a surprise even to her.

Stop lying to yourself. Bittersweet nostalgia weighed heavy and threatened to overshadow her growing desire. She withdrew her fingers from her underwear. I do want him. To feel him, taste him, hear the sounds he makes.

None of this was logical, but when had she and Nick ever made sense? Different worlds, different dreams, lives spent separately for most of their time as a couple. Truth be told, they never really had been on the same page, but despite that, their relationship was beautiful for a while.

Until it wasn’t.

But now older, wiser, carrying knowledge from a hard lesson learned, maybe she could fulfill her carnal needs and protect her heart if she approached a potential dalliance like she had in London? An itch to be scratched and nothing more?

We’re both consenting adults. I can definitely separate love from sex. I didn’t love Stuart or the three guys I’ve slept with since Nick.

Pulling her eyes away from a stack of old board games on the floor—Risk, Trouble, Sorry!—she glanced over her shoulder. Nick was propping his bent arm under his head in lieu of a pillow.

We could hook up for fun. On the down low, of course. Can’t be feeding the island gossips. That is, if Nick’s keen.

But the former actor couldn’t have sounded less keen if he tried.

“Sorry,” he mumbled for the tenth time, settling into stillness. But then he jerked violently and elbowed her in the back, a breathy “BOLLOCKS!” hurtling toward the wall.

“What’s wrong now?” She lifted her head, blinking wearily as the amber glow of tealights danced along the stone.

“Ss-spider!” The rattle from the wind-beaten windows was no match for his loud stammer.

Nick and creepy crawlies. Evie suppressed a giggle. “Hate to break it to you, but this ain’t The Four Seasons.”

“Fuuuccck!” His body stilled. “It’s moving.”

“Ignore it.”

“I can’t! It’s HUGE! I’m serious, Evie.” Nick fumbled with something on the floor. “Look!”