Holiday Romance

Chapter 6: Close Quarters

Isla wasn’t sure why she let herself get roped into another "friendly" encounter with Adrian. After their morning on the water, she had planned to avoid him for the rest of the day. Yet, here she was, standing outside his villa as Tessa’s fiancé, Nick, gave them both an apologetic look.

"I swear, this was not intentional," Nick said, holding up his hands. "The resort overbooked a few of the guest rooms, and the only open suite we could get is a shared one."

Isla’s stomach dropped. "Shared? As in, with him?" She jabbed a finger toward Adrian, who looked far too entertained by the situation.

Nick winced. "Look, it’s a huge suite, practically two rooms. But unless you want to downgrade to a single with a twin bed—"

"I’ll take the twin," Isla said quickly.

Nick sighed. "Isla, I love you, but that room is a broom closet. Please. Just try this for one night? If it’s unbearable, we’ll figure something out."

Adrian, leaning against the doorframe, smirked. "What do you say, Carter? Think we can handle being roommates?"

Her jaw tightened. "This is temporary. One night. And you stay on your side of the suite."

"Of course," Adrian said smoothly. "I’m a gentleman."

She snorted. "Debatable."

With no other choice, Isla grabbed her suitcase and stormed inside, trying to ignore the way Adrian’s amused gaze followed her every step.

The suite was as extravagant as expected—floor-to-ceiling windows with an ocean view, a spacious lounge area, and, most importantly, two separate sleeping spaces. Technically. The "rooms" were divided by a sliding partition, offering only the illusion of privacy.

Isla sighed heavily. "I can’t believe this is happening."

Adrian set his bag down, unbuttoning the top of his shirt. "It’s not the worst thing in the world."

She spun around, catching sight of his bare collarbone and a hint of muscle beneath his shirt. Damn it. Why did he have to look so effortlessly good?

"Just stay out of my way," she said, moving toward her side of the suite. "And no funny business."

Adrian chuckled. "You think I’d try something?"

She narrowed her eyes. "I think you enjoy making my life difficult."

He grinned. "That’s fair."

With a huff, Isla slammed the partition closed between them, trying to ignore the fact that her heart was pounding a little too fast. This was going to be a long night.

Later that evening, Isla emerged from the bathroom, wrapped in a silk robe, hair damp from the shower. The air smelled of salt and something distinctly Adrian—an intoxicating mix of sandalwood and spice. She was just about to grab her phone when she heard movement on the other side of the partition.

Curiosity got the best of her.

She slid the door open a crack, peeking through.

Adrian was standing shirtless by the window, a towel slung around his neck, droplets of water glistening on his skin. His back was to her, but the reflection in the glass showed his face—pensive, lost in thought. It was a rare moment of vulnerability, and for a brief second, Isla forgot why she was supposed to hate him.

Then, as if sensing her gaze, Adrian turned.

Their eyes locked.

Isla’s breath hitched, but she quickly masked it with an eye roll. "Put a shirt on, Hayes. This isn’t a romance novel."

His lips twitched. "You sure about that?"

Before she could respond, he reached for his shirt, slipping it on in one smooth motion. But the damage was already done—her pulse was racing, and she knew tonight was going to be anything but peaceful.

Isla turned sharply, retreating to her side of the suite and shutting the partition once more.

She needed to get a grip. Fast.

Because being this close to Adrian Hayes was tempting fate in the worst possible way.