Hoisting himself up onto the bench next to me, Doug waves to the crowd before hopping down. Analisa twirls her arm in the air.

“Thank you for letting us share the wonders of the Galápagos with you, and for considering supporting conservation efforts in the region. And with that”—I look to Gustavo, who gives me a thumbs-up—“dinner is served.”

Excited murmurs break out through the crowd as staff carries the last of the hot serving dishes to the buffet. The spicy aroma of barbecue permeates the air and my mouth waters. Switching off the mic, I twist sideways to step carefully off the bench, but between the pitch of the ship and my platform heels, I stumble as my feet hit the deck.

A firm hand catches me by the waist and warmth expands from the spot. “Brilliant,” murmurs Graeme, taking the mic from me and returning it to its case.

“You think?”

Something wistful flashes behind his eyes, a hint of worry, and then it’s gone in a blink. He nods. “I see the marketing potential. But more than that, you’re doing something good for this place, and that’s priceless.”

“We’ll see,” I mutter, rubbing the goose bumps from my forearms.

“What did James say? I assume you had to get permission from him before making an official offer to the guests.”

A waiter comes by with a tray of filled wineglasses. I pick out a white wine and Graeme snags a red. I take a noisy gulp. I did indeed call James today from Analisa’s office. That had been a fun conversation. After a lengthy inquisition about my big-picture plan, James was silent for so long I thought my heart would implode. But then he spoke.

“If you really feel this is your best idea, fine. Try it.”

At least he threw me a bone by offering to loop in all the necessary office staff on his end so I could focus on immediate logistics with Gustavo and the ship’s accountant. I take another sip of wine to cover my ambivalence over how much to tell Graeme.

“Now, now,” I say, wagging my finger. “I won’t give away my secrets to the competition.” I force a weak chuckle.

Graeme steps closer, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that still how you see me?”

“Yes… and no,” I whisper. I lift my chin and our gazes lock. The chattering noise and movement around us fades away and we’re the only two people on the ship.

All I see is Graeme’s face—the stubble dotting his jaw, his soft, angular lips, his ever-so-slightly crooked nose, and the fan of dark lashes framing his ocean-blue eyes. All I feel is the overwhelming pull to eliminate the distance between us. All I hear is the beating of my own heart.

A plate shatters somewhere across the deck and reality comes careening back. I shake my head to clear it.