He stops me with a grin. “I’ll be approving all the photos for the accounts during your trial period. Don’t get any ideas.”

“We’ll see about that,” I tell him, and lead the way inside.

6

Roman

I wake up with two words ringing in my head: not today.

Today, Jenny London is not going to get me into a pool in a pair of gift shop swimming trunks to take photos for Instagram. Today, she is not going to flounce around in the most delectable red bikini I’ve even seen while I struggle to make my thoughts pretend to be coherent. Today, she’s not going to get the better of me.

I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m in charge of the Bliss Resort, and I allowed my mind to be melted by the sight of one woman in a bathing suit. What’s that going to do for staff morale? Nothing, if they see me being led around like her pet boss. That’s a sight that wouldn’t inspire any confidence for anybody on the staff—a boss who falls apart the moment a beautiful woman walks into the room.

No. Today, the tables are turning.

At least, they’re supposed to.

Greg hustles up next to me in the lobby. I’m on the way to my office to await her surprised reaction to the gift basket I had sent to her employee bungalow early this morning with the supplies she’ll need for what I have planned.

“Did you get it delivered?”

The answer’s a clear no, because even as he struggles to catch his breath, I can see that he’s still holding the basket. It’s a classy, white wicker thing, and the clothes I chose are carefully laid out on a bed made from a beach towel.

“She wasn’t there,” he pants. “I think she’s—” He raises a hand and points toward the offices. “I think she might already be—”

“I’ve got it.”

I take the basket from his hand and pick up the pace.

I’m an hour early for work. There’s no reason Jenny should be there at this point, but even if she’s not—even if I have to hunt her down somewhere on Bliss property—she’s not getting ahead of me on this one. Yesterday was a freak anomaly, a rare slip-up on my part, and I won’t let it happen again if it kills me.

Sure enough, I enter the bullpen only to see lamplight streaming from her office. It’s the only one that’s lit up at this hour of the morning. At seven a.m., the sun has risen, but it’s not high enough to do any justice to the skylights.