Once they were out of earshot, Emma leaned in. “I think that’s why very few people are at the bar. Those people suck the life out of the atmosphere around them.”

“Can you imagine being intimate with them?” Pete said. “He would be talking about God knows what the entire time.”

They looped around the pool. One couple was making use of a cabana, but other than that the pool was quiet.

“I think this is the right path.” Emma pointed to a break in the bushes.

Once they got closer, they saw a small sign that read The Chalet with an arrow. They took the path, and like all the other pathways that wound through the resort, this one had thick bushes and trees on either side. At times it felt like they were in a rain forest. The resort didn’t skimp on the greenery, that was for sure.

The walkway led to a beautiful white building with big double glass doors. Tables were set nicely inside, and the entire wall on the ocean side was glass. Pete opened one of the doors and ushered Emma in ahead of him. The place was elegant, with circular tables dressed to the nines with all-white settings, including the tablecloth, napkins, and dinner plates. There were generous wine goblets and tall, skinny water glasses.

“Wow,” Emma said. “Very nice.”

“Yes,” Pete agreed. “Like everything else around here.”

A greeter met them at the podium. “Welcome. Two this evening?” she asked. She was dressed in a long white gown, her hair done up in a coif.

“We’re actually meeting people here. They said they’d be out on the patio.”

“Of course, right this way.” She led them through the restaurant and slightly to the left to another set of large glass doors.

They followed her out onto the deck, and the first thing Pete spotted was Antonio, dressed all in white, holding two glasses of champagne, one of which he immediately held out to Emma as they arrived.

* * *

The sunset was beyond breathtaking. The entire patio of The Chalet was built right over the water, so nothing impeded the view as the sun hit the horizon. The seating areas were all dark wicker with white cushions, a lit hurricane candle in the middle of every table. Many of the tables had a standing ice bucket with a bottle of champagne, just like theirs.

Emma was on her second glass.

The five of them sat around the small table as the sky grew duskier, none of them wanting to head in too soon. The weather was perfect, just warm enough, but not sweltering.

“I think we need to find a single guy here who can join this party of five,” Mallory complained. “Or maybe a single girl? Either way. I can’t be the only single person who comes here. Right? Please tell me it’s not true.”

“What you need is a steady boyfriend,” Antonio said. “And I have a plan to set you up with one.”

“Oh, really?” Mallory arched an eyebrow at him. “How are you planning to do that? Snap your rocket-fueled fingers and one is going to appear in front of me? Okay, I’m in.” She grabbed her champagne glass from the table and took a swallow. She was wearing a beautiful white silk halter dress. It looked like it cost a fortune. No bra. The outlines of her nipples showed through every time she moved. Her hair was swept up in a loose knot, and her long chandelier earrings caught the candlelight perfectly. Honestly, the woman was ridiculously stunning. How could anyone look at anything, or anyone, but her? “Do you know how long I’ve been searching for Mr. Right? Since I was thirteen years old and I became my mom’s bankroll, that’s how long. I have big dreams of finding The Guy, and he will gallantly sweep me off my feet and whisk me away from all the bullshit. But I’m quickly coming to the conclusion, in my advanced age, that all guys are atrocious and only out for themselves. At least in my world, they are. I’m thinking of giving up the quest completely and just moving here permanently. Life would be abundantly easier.”

Antonio chuckled. “I’m not going to snap my fingers, but I’m going to do one better. I’m sending you on vacation.”

Mallory made a face. “I’m on vacation right now. What can be better than this?” She lifted her glass toward the ocean. “It’s perfect here.”

“How about a private Tahitian island? With one of those suites over the water?”

“I’m listening,” she said, setting down her glass.

They were all listening.

Antonio was totally relaxed, resting back in his chair, one ankle propped over the opposite knee.

Emma felt guilty every time she looked at him, but she couldn’t keep from doing it. She adjusted the top of her dress, feeling a little self-conscious that everyone could see her nipples, but a little turned on as well.

“I just invested in a unique business venture,” he told the group. “One of the original backers dropped out at the last minute. It’s an out-of-the-box experience, but I think it has huge potential with the young, rich, single crowd. The resort will be ready to take on clients in less than six weeks. We’re booking the first week as a test. Each of the partners is gifting a stay to six lucky individuals, three women and three men, and I want to send you.”

“What kind of out-of-the-box experience are we talking about here?” Mallory asked. “I love sex, but I’m not into freaky.”

“Think Tinder meets Tahiti,” Antonio answered slyly. He uncrossed his legs and leaned forward, his face animated. “The setup is a beautiful, private island, and everyone there is fuckable and single. Forty-five men and forty-five women. You all get your own villa and a private phone with our app downloaded when you arrive. It mimics Tinder up to a point, but it’s much sexier. We have real-time video embedded in the app for live sexting.”

“That sounds…interesting,” Mallory said, nodding once. “I accept.”

“Just like that?” Antonio laughed, sitting back in his chair. “You don’t want any more info or need to check dates?”

“Nope, surprise me. If I have something booked that week, I’ll reschedule.” She crossed her legs demurely, flattening out the folds of her dress. “It sounds too good to be true, and with you as my fairy godfather, I can’t lose.”

Emma was intrigued. “That sounds like a really interesting concept,” she said. “How much does a stay on the island cost?”

“Fifty thousand a week,” Antonio answered. “But it’s insanely upscale. There are spas, multiple pools and hot tubs, a nightclub, seven bars, three restaurants, it’s loaded. And the setting is beyond beautiful. They flew me out last month, and I signed on to be a partner the first day. It blew me away.”

Emma whistled. “That’s some serious cash. Your only clients will be the wealthiest one percent.”

“That’s the idea,” Antonio said. “Bringing together wealthy hipsters is what it’s all about. There are a lot of under-thirty millionaires these days.”

“What’s the island called?” Pete asked.

“We’re still trying to come up with a killer slogan, but right now we’re referring to it as Hookup Island.”

“Why not just call it Fuck Me Island?” Mallory said. “That’s what’s going to be happening there, and it’s the only possible reason anyone would pay that much. To fuck, and fuck a lot.”

“Why not Marry Me Island?” Emma said. “That’s what all the attendees are hoping to find—love.”

“You have such a sweet heart, Emma,” Charlotte said. “It’s like you’re a Disney princess with really nice tits, firm abs, and a killer ass. It’s like if Ariel became human and we got to see her walk around naked.”

“Come on, I can’t be that far off! If I spent that kind of money to go to an island like that,” Emma sputtered, “it would be to find my perfect match!”

“Yeah, right,” Mallory snorted. “The chances of me finding Mr. Right on that Tahitian island are the same as the bachelorette finding an actual, non-asshole husband on network television. If I were in charge of those roses, I’d toss them on the ground and crush them beneath the heel of my Jimmy Choo, then I’d invite all the guys to do me at once, no strings attached. All the guys there just want to fuck and be on TV.”