“I’m impressed,” he said. “When I ask others that same question, the answers usually reflect their wish to drastically change something in their lives. If you polled the majority, you’d find them an unhappy lot, eager to get a do-over at any cost.”

“Well, I guess I’m in the happy minority.”

Antonio suddenly turned onto his stomach and swam closer to her. “You’re a total catch, Emma. I hope Pete understands what he’s got, because if he doesn’t, I can show you a whole world you never knew existed—”

They were interrupted by Mallory and Charlotte splashing their way over. “Hey, you guys, let’s play Marco Polo!” Mallory called. “Pete’s going to play Marco first. I used to love this game as a kid. But this one includes groping once you find your target. It’s more fun that way. The raunchier, the better. Like, total boob grabs are allowed.”

“Then let’s go eat lunch,” Charlotte added. “I’m starving. We all had a workout back there, and I burned off my morning granola in about seven minutes.”

“You guys go ahead and play, and I’ll go back and get lunch started,” Antonio said. “I’ll see you in a few.”

“Emma, you up for it?” Mallory asked.

“Sure,” Emma said. “I haven’t played in years.”

“Pete, are you ready?” Mallory called behind her.

“Yep!” he called.

“Be sure to close your eyes,” she ordered.

“They’re closed!”

Emma thought she heard a little grumble behind Pete’s words, and she smiled inwardly. Her husband didn’t love games unless they were played on a field with a ball. It was kind of cute to see him close his eyes and walk forward with his arms out.

“Marco!” he called.

“Polo!” all three girls yelled at once.

Pete immediately turned toward Emma as they all tried to move quietly away, which was impossible in the water.

“Marco!”

“Polo!” they all cried.

Pete made a beeline for her, and Emma shrieked as she tried to run, but of course she couldn’t get any traction, and her husband was much faster than she was.

A few splashes later, he scooped her up. She laughed, running her hands along his broad shoulders. “Okay, you got me!”

He opened his eyes. They were gleaming as he grinned. “Damn straight I do.”

17

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Pete wrapped a towel around his waist as he emerged from the shower. “You know, we don’t have to meet them for dinner.” It was a casual suggestion he hoped his wife would consider. “We can just order room service.”

“We did that last night,” Emma said from her spot by the closet. “Plus, I’m dying to see the formal dining room and watch the sunset. Hurry up, we only have twenty minutes at most to get there. We told them we’d meet for drinks on the patio first, and the sun is setting in less than a half hour.”

Pete wanted to grumble, but kept it to himself.

After they’d lunched on the yacht, Antonio had tried to persuade them all to go to another island to snorkel, but Pete had successfully swayed Emma to come back to the villa, with the promise that they’d meet them for dinner later.

Emma and Pete had taken a dip in their pool, and then had a long nap. They’d both been exhausted from traveling the day before and rising early. It had been a nice afternoon together, but they hadn’t talked once about their encounter with the group on the beach. Pete had been hesitant to bring it up after what Mallory and Charlotte had told him.

If Antonio was really after his wife, arguing with Emma wasn’t the answer. The guy had it all. He could build Emma the mansion of her dreams, take her on trips around the world, and shower her with gifts. Antonio had the means Pete did not. The girls had persuaded him to play it cool and go along with what Emma wanted for now. If he pushed back, they’d said, she could fall right into Antonio’s waiting arms.

He wasn’t sure he believed them.

His instinct was to stalk over, knock the guy out, and take Emma over his shoulder like a caveman.

When he’d seen Antonio swim up to his wife, he’d almost done it, too.

When the girls pushed the game of Marco Polo on him, he’d thought they’d been out of their minds. But it’d worked. Antonio left, and Pete had made his wife happy.

Once they returned to the yacht, Pete had made sure that Emma sat next to him. Mallory had helped in the galley with the food, and since it was so small, there was no room for anyone else.

Antonio putting the moves on Emma still rankled him, but he was keeping it to himself. For now. If Pete insisted on breaking their dinner plans, he would look like a complete asshole.

“It’ll be fun,” Emma said. “You’ll see.” Pete balked as Emma closed the closet doors and turned toward him.

“Are you wearing that dress without a bra?”

The dress was a frothy peach color and completely see-through. It made her areolas stand out like they’d been painted with a rose-colored paintbrush.

“Yes, I am.” Emma set her hands on her hips. “Charlotte said people come to dinner dressed, but always very provocatively. Women routinely wear skimpy outfits with no panties or bra, so I’m just playing along. We are at a swinger resort, Pete, which you know better than anyone. And it was your idea to come here, not mine.”

“Emma, every guy in there is going to have a hard-on the moment you come in. Nobody is going to be able to eat their dinner. Turn around.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “Your ass is visible. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but it looks as good as it did in those bikini bottoms. The peach color makes it sort of…glow.”

Emma chuckled. “Now you’re just being silly. We’re having dinner with a supermodel. No one is going to notice me.”

“Emma, have you looked in the mirror lately?”

“Why are you being so complimentary all of a sudden? You see me every single day, and you never comment on how I look. Come on, let’s go.” She walked her amazing backside over to the sliding glass door. “I want to take the beach to get there.”

Pete had no choice but to follow her out.

Was she right? Did he never compliment her at home? That would have to change. His wife always looked fantastic, and he’d apparently been taking that for granted—assuming she always knew he thought she looked beautiful.

They walked along the water until they arrived at the beach bar. “Antonio said to walk up by the pool and take the path immediately across. That one leads to the formal dining room.”

Pete had studied the map after their nap, but as with anything, seeing it visually put it all in perspective. They made their way up to the bar, and as soon as they stepped on the first stair tread, they spotted Harry sitting on the exact same barstool he’d occupied yesterday, his wife next to him.

When he saw them, he waved and gave a big whoop of laughter. “They return to the scene of the crime!” he bellowed. “Did you guys have a good day today enjoying the sights? This place will wear you out if you let it.” Once again, he was wearing a skimpy Speedo, this one red, and his wife was topless.

“We had a very nice day, thanks for asking,” Emma answered politely. “The island is majestic.”

“Well, pull up a seat and join us! Drinks on me for the second time.” He grabbed the stool next to him and slid it forward.

“Thanks for your offer,” Pete said, “but we’re on our way to The Chalet to watch the sunset and have dinner.”

“Oh, the ol’ Chalet, huh?” Harry said. “That’s too fancy schmancy for us farmers.” He snorted. “We like it nice and simple, but come on by after, and we can have a little party of our own. Get my drift?” He winked.

Oh, Pete got his drift all right and that wasn’t happening.

“We’re going to see where the night takes us,” Pete replied noncommittally, placing his hand on Emma’s lower back and guiding her around the bar. “You guys have a nice night.” He waved as they walked past.