TWENTY-SEVEN
Day three. Xan couldn't wait to get started. She'd woken a dozen times in the night with ideas about how to entice new guests to the resort. Romance Island would blossom under her care.
She breathed in the awakening aroma from her coffee cup and gazed at the piece of paradise framed by her office window. A jetty thrusting out into the aqua-blue sea, while the teasing water licked and kissed the jetty's legs in torturous foreplay as it crept higher until it engulfed the jutting length completely in warm wetness.
Where the hell had that come from?
Xan felt blood rushing to her face. She should have been talking to staff at breakfast, not reading the steamy book Annette from Housekeeping had lent her yesterday. The island infrastructure shouldn't be seeing more action than
