Page 39 of Manhattan Bossholes

I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the possibility of showering outside either until I saw what Jean meant. We stepped into an oasis of a bathroom, where the white porcelain soaking tub bordered a completely open-air space with two waterfall shower heads. The privacy wall that blocked off the area was made of black volcanic rock, and the vines and tree branches grew down on it as if it was a natural part of the environment.

“Okay, wow,” I breathed.

“Have you ever tried an outdoor shower?” Jean asked.

I shook my head.

“Not one like this,” Vincent said. “I used a makeshift one when I was summiting a mountain, but that was a very different experience.”

Joe chuckled. “Let’s just say two shower heads mean twice the fun.”

It took a second for me to understand what he meant. I blushed, unable to stop myself from picturing it, even though there was no way Vincent and I were going to shower together.

Although…it wasn’t the worst idea I’d heard. I glanced over at him and tried to imagine how he’s look under the cascading water, head back, eyes closed, with me on my knees in front of him.

STOP IT.

What I wouldn’t give to see him wet.

Focus!

“I’m looking forward to giving it a try,” Vincent said, forcing me to stop thinking about gripping his naked ass. He grabbed my hand and pulled me to him, then planted a kiss on the top of my head.

So many sparklers went off along my spine. How were we going to manage this?

“Aww,” Jean sighed. “You two are so sweet together. I can’t wait to hear all about your story over dinner tonight. I know you’re both probably exhausted, so should we meet at six?”

I was ready to do whatever it took to sell our love story, but I was happy they wanted an early dinner, because I was already feeling the time change.

“Works for us, right, hon?” Vincent asked me.

“It gives me just enough time to freshen up,” I replied.

“Do you dress for dinner?” Vincent asked.

I started to make a crack about a nude meal but thought better of it.

“Most of the time, we follow island rules,” Joe laughed. “Flip-flops are considered ‘dressed.’ Wear whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Thanks to Vincent’s assistant Linda, I had a suitcase filled with options. We’d gone on a quick shopping trip with Vincent’s card at his insistence, saying that since it was a business trip, it was the business’s responsibility to make sure I had everything I needed, including clothes to suit the occasion. Even though he’d told me to get whatever I wanted, it took Linda’s gentle push to get me to pile up my choices on the counter at the fancy boutique he’d suggested.

“You two rest up, or do whatever,” Jean winked at us. “See you at six—come hungry.”

They walked out holding hands, leaving us alone.

“I guess I should unpack,” I said. I was happy to have a task to keep busy because the reality of what we were doing was slowly dawning on me.

Spending the night. In the same room. With my hot-as-fuck boss.

“That’s been taken care of. Check the closet,” Vincent called after me.

I frowned. What? No way. I pulled open the door to the room-sized closet and sure enough, every outfit was perfectly pressed and hung.

What was I supposed to do now to keep from obsessing about the beautiful man who kept staring at me?

“Come out here and join me,” Vincent’s voice rang down the hall, like he could sense my stress.

He was stretched out on a hammock on the porch with his hands clasped behind his head.