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1. June

1

JUNE

"What is this?" I asked, holding up the bundle of unfamiliar white fabric I'd found stuffed in my suitcase.

Missy gave me a mischievous smirk from where she was sorting through her own cache of cruise-ready clothing. "It's a dress."

"I can see that. What is it doing in my stuff?"

"What do you think? Shorts and tank tops aren't going to cut it on this trip, June Bug. You need dresses on a cruise. That goes double when it's an adults-only Caribbean cruise." She tossed a ball of peach fabric onto the plush mattress in front of me. "Better yet, make that triple."

Another bundle flew across the bed, shimmering in the wash of sunlight spilling through the floor-to-ceiling windows in our ridiculously posh suite. Missy grinned at me like we were still those awkward tween girls sneaking into her brother's high school parties.

A lot had changed since then. By the time my thirtieth birthday rolled around, we were polar opposites. She was on the heels of her second divorce and still convinced her happily ever after was out there somewhere, while I'd pretty much given up on the idea that I would ever find my one.

Sure, I'd dated a few guys long enough to sleep with them, but the connection I wanted—that undefinable spark—was never there.

Shaking out the silver gown, I winced at the strategically placed cutouts. "There is no way in hell I'm wearing this."

"You're right." She marched around the king-sized bed, her straight blond locks swaying as she snatched it out of my hands. "This one is all me, but you are wearing the others."

"Missy," I said, shaking my head. "You have to stop spending money on me. I can buy my own dresses."

She held up a manicured hand to shush me. "Three words: Adults. Only. Cruise." She spread her arms out wide and spun in a slow circle, encompassing the spacious suite with its unhindered view of the open sea. "We are on a luxury cruise ship headed for paradise, with endless cold drinks, plenty of hot men, and if they're very, very lucky, lots of mind-blowing sex." She smacked her own pert ass and gave me a little wink.

I laughed. I couldn't help it. Missy was my ride-or-die girl, and her mood and confidence had always been infectious.

Still, sex with a total stranger that I would never see again? That was a hard pass.

The only reason I'd agreed to come on this trip was because she surprised me with the all-expenses-paid cruise for my birthday. A trip that was no doubt funded by the hefty settlement she received after catching her sleaze ball of a second husband in bed with another woman.

How was I supposed to say no? Especially when I knew she needed this trip more than I did.

I picked up the white dress and held it against my body. "All aboard the Infinity Voyager ."

"Yass, girl." She smiled, and it was the first one I'd seen in a long time that wasn't tinted with sadness.

"About the sex..." I ran my hand over the expensive looking duvet hugging her king-sized bed. She'd gone all-in with a two-bedroom suite, but that didn't mean I had any desire to spend the next four nights listening to her get railed.

She shook her head. "Oh, honey. Not in here. This suite is a testosterone-free zone. If we get freaky, we do it in their rooms."

I let out a sigh. "Good." Because I wasn't looking forward to coming back to the room ready to crash at the end of the day only to find her riding some random guy on the couch.

I'd seen that show in college. Once was enough.

Missy held up a pair of rose gold metallic heels before setting them next to the dresses. "These will go perfect with the peach one."

"Please tell me you're just letting me borrow them," I said. That was one nice thing, when it came to shoes, we could share. Clothes? Not so much. As much as I might have learned to love my body, the laws of physics weren't flexible enough to allow my curves to shimmy into her smaller clothes.

"If it makes you feel better, sure." She shrugged and tossed another dress my way. This one was pitch black, slinky, and it felt like sin the moment my fingertips brushed the fabric. "We'll start with those three. If you need more, we'll hit the on-board boutique."

"Missy, this is too much. We're only here for four nights." Plus, I was a grown woman with a good career, and perfectly capable of buying my own clothes. Just maybe not from the stores where she shopped.

"This is your first cruise, and it's my first trip as a newly single woman. That means we're doing this in style." She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. "Besides, I can afford it."

There was no point arguing with her logic. Her ex-husband might have turned out to be a bastard, but at least he was a wealthy bastard.

"In that case, thank you."

She came back around the bed and wrapped me in a hug. "Ride or die, right?"

"Damn straight."

That evening, after spending an hour trying not to roll my eyes as Missy fussed over me, I sat alone at the bar during the singles mixer feeling an awful lot like an overdressed doll. The peach dress and heels were, admittedly, gorgeous. The woman had an eye for flattering a figure, but between the clothes, the way she curled my hair, and the fake eyelashes, I looked like some fictional version of myself.

Juniper Basilissa, cruise ship phony.

Missy, on the other hand, was in her element. At five foot six, a solid two inches taller than me, she was blessed with a slimmer frame, a perky chest, hazel eyes that were to die for, and a level of self-confidence I'd never quite managed to master. She chatted and flirted, looking totally at ease in the soft light of the martini bar.

I swallowed down the twinge of envy that tried to rear its ugly head and motioned to the bartender to bring me another drink. There was nothing like liquid courage to kick start the night, and the first gin and tonic he'd made me certainly had the needed bite.

He set a fresh glass on the black marble bar, and damn, even he was next level handsome.

I sipped the crisp drink as I read the name embroidered on his pristine black dress shirt. "Thank you, Reggie."

He dipped his head. "Are you going to get out there and mingle?"

"As soon as the gin kicks in."

He laughed. "Well, a stunning woman like yourself shouldn't have any trouble striking up a conversation out there, but if you do, feel free to park it right there. I wouldn't mind the company."

"Thanks, but I think you've got your hands full tonight," I said, tossing a pointed glance toward Missy and the trio of guys who followed her up to the bar, surrounded by an invisible cloud of artificial fragrance.

Were the guys trying to overpower the scents of saltwater and seaweed coming in through the open windows?

Missy bumped her hip against my leg. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

Hiding.

"Just taking a break."

"Liar." She leaned her elbows on the bar, plumping up her already gravity defying cleavage, and ordered a round of drinks.

Reggie cast me a knowing look as I was taking another sip. I almost snorted the citrusy concoction out through my nose and ended up slapping a hand over my mouth to stifle my choking. When I threw him a glare, he just laughed.

Missy's hand landed on my bare knee. "Hey, you okay?"

I nodded, still trying not to giggle. Apparently, the gin was doing its job, because I had a nice warm glow spreading through me. "Never better."

She introduced me to her three escorts as she handed off shots of tequila to each of us.

Don't get me wrong, the guys were attractive, but they were all a little too pretty for my taste. Which was probably why I managed to forget their names two seconds after we clinked glasses and threw back our shots.

It worked out well, though, because they all promptly forgot about me too.

That was how it went when I was with Missy.

She was the flame all the cologne-laden suitors flocked to.

With a silent sigh, I turned my attention toward the crowd. The energy of the room was shifting. What had started out as a subdued mixer was becoming something more akin to a party, complete with the tell-tale raised voices of people ramping up to have a real good time.

I was tempted to take Reggie up on his offer to keep myself anchored to that bar stool, half-hidden in the safety of the corner, but if I didn't at least attempt to socialize, Missy would make it her personal mission to introduce me to every eligible bachelor on the ship before the trip was over.

No and thank you. I didn't need a matchmaker.

What I needed was an easy out, someone who looked as out of his element as I felt. Someone who might be willing to put on just enough of a show over the next few days to keep Missy from turning her matchmaking sights on me.

A few minutes later, as I scanned the swelling crowd for the umpteenth time, I found my target. I'd been volunteering at my local wildlife rescue since I was a teenager, and I'd seen my fair share of animals caught in a trap. They always look the same: hackles up, rigid posture, and eyes that were constantly searching for an escape.

That was this guy to a T, right before I waltzed up in my gin-fueled confidence and crashed his conversation.

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