I grab my phone and check the time. It’s after nine. How is it after nine? I set an alarm last night for seven so I could get up early and work on my proposal. I must have accidentally turned it off, and now I’ve missed breakfast to boot. Plopping onto my bed with a moan, I scrub both palms over my face.

“If you plan on snorkeling this afternoon or at any point during the trip,” Gustavo continues, “this is your last call to pick up snorkeling equipment. Remember, please be prepared to try on your wet suit to ensure a correct fit. Guests going on the three-hour hike this morning will disembark at nine thirty. Those wishing to do the one-hour beach walk will disembark at eleven. Thirty minutes until the long hike. Thirty minutes, long hike. Thank you.”

Well, the long hike is definitely out. I need the extra time to kick-start my proposal.

“Listen, I’ll see if I can get you some crackers or something—” I start, but soft, heavy breathing floats over from Walsh’s bed. She’s already asleep.

I quickly use the bathroom and pull on a bathing suit, T-shirt, shorts, and sandals. After popping a Dramamine, I head toward the observation deck to pick up snorkeling gear. My lungs squeeze at the thought of swimming through the ocean’s murky, suffocating depths, but I’m going to have to suck it up. At least the first snorkeling excursion isn’t until this afternoon, giving me a few hours’ reprieve before I have to face the inevitable.

I climb the stairs to the outdoor observation deck where staff is distributing equipment. It’s a swell of controlled chaos. A line of guests at least a dozen deep stretches halfway across the upper deck, leading to rows of bins and wet suits hanging on racks. Another ten guests dot the outer edges, clambering into wet suits and trying on fins.

Slipping on my sunglasses, I join the end of the line and try not to sway with the movement of the ship. A brisk breeze chafes my nose and my stomach growls noisily, reminding me how empty it is. I grumble along with it.

“Good morning,” Graeme’s husky voice rumbles as he steps up next to me.

I wince. Of course he found me.

He’s wearing a white T-shirt and a day pack, while his eyes are hidden behind dark sunglasses. His wavy hair lifts in the wind and his skin glows with a healthy tan. My gaze travels down to his black athletic shorts and I snort.

“Is that a banana in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?” The words are out of my mouth before I can reel them in. Sleep-deprived Henley equals loopy Henley.

Graeme’s lips twitch and the dimple in his chin deepens. “You’re lucky I didn’t record that. Human resources wouldn’t approve of such innuendo.”