Be professional. Be professional. Be professional.

That’s what I have to do in this moment, so when he pads around me to the stairs leading into the shallow end, I survey him with a blank face and try to see him as just another one of the hotel’s assets.

That’s the thing—I wasn’t wrong, back in high school. He was undeniably the most attractive of all the boys.

The years have been more than kind to him.

In fact, they’ve caressed him, run their fingers down his abs to sculpt them into something manly and strong, and chiseled his jaw out of a little rougher marble.

He’s looking at me. “What?”

“Trying to determine what the best angle is for the light on your face.” The truth is that there isn’t a bad angle for Roman Bliss.

The other truth is that I’m getting slightly drunk on this power.

I get hold of myself and beckon for him to get into the pool.

He goes.

It’s not easy to keep my mind focused on getting good photos with the water streaming over his abs and hair, but I manage, calling directions out one after the other. More and more often, his eyes stray to the red bikini. My skin heats and heats, and finally I have to call it. We’ve lost the morning light.

“That’s it?” he calls from the center of the pool.

“That’s it.” I put the camera down on a table that’s well out of the reach of even the most egregious cannonball, and let my cover-up flutter to the tile. Then I step out of my high heels.

My heart is pounding like it’s about to give out, but this is it—if I can pull this off, it’ll be the height of my day.

I walk quickly around to the deep end of the pool, the water a startling blue. There’s no one on the diving board above me.

“Are you—?”

The rest of Roman’s question is lost as I break the surface of the water in a perfect dive.

The bikini, in today’s latest miracle, stays on.

I kick hard and resurface in the shallow end, where Roman is still standing, dripping wet, his blue eyes fiery in the sun.

I’ve stunned him into silence.

Victory is mine.

He doesn’t say another word as I brush my hair back and climb the stairs out of the pool.

He still hasn’t moved after I’ve retrieved a fluffy towel from the overflowing rack. I tug out another one and toss it, still rolled up, directly at him.

Roman reacts at the last moment, catching it just before it hits the water.

“What are you waiting for?” I wrap the first towel around my body, then grab a second for my hair. “We have photos to process.”