Chapter 3
Following her morning run along the beach—and past a lighthouse; God, Nantucket was cute—Olivia changed into her swimsuit and joined the others for a day of lounging by the pool. Unlike her
sisters, who were both engrossed in sexy rom-coms, she chose to read her emails and the latest thought pieces from her equity
research team. She had won her two-hour-phone-free bet with Ashley, but this morning, reality had set in. With the promotion
battle ahead of her, she simply couldn’t afford to be out of the loop for two weeks.
By the afternoon, Ashley and Jessica were so annoyed with her working, they dragged her out to look around the town despite
having declared an hour earlier that it was too hot.
When she came back to her room to shower and change for the evening, her best friend Meera messaged her:
Tell me you’re not working.
She replied:
I’m not working.
Meera’s response came back a second later:
Do I need to verify that with Jessica or Ashley?
A little peeved at the harassing from both sides, she shot back:
Stop messaging me. I’m supposed to be on holiday.
Meera replied with a crying-with-laughter emoji. Presumably because she was the one who’d forced Olivia to stay in Nantucket
another week because “I can’t remember when you last took a proper holiday and you’re going to burn out if you keep this schedule
up.”
Meera worked in the same company but didn’t subscribe to Olivia’s “Work is life” motto. Several rungs farther down the pay-scale
ladder than Olivia was, Meera had reached a level senior enough for her to enjoy the perks of delegating, but she had no interest
in climbing any higher, declaring she had her work-life balance just right. It was something Olivia couldn’t understand. What
was the point of balancing work if it was the best thing in your life?
But she wasn’t supposed to be thinking about it. Nope, instead of analyzing quarterly earnings reports and planning how to
beat Stuart to the promotion, she was going to be watching a group of men take their clothes off.
What would her niece say? Fuck my life.
Thank God she had the second week to herself, no distractions, nobody to stop her from spending it how she wanted to spend
it.
Pushing the thoughts aside, she scanned the small selection of clothes she’d brought with her, neatly hung up in the wardrobe.
When she failed to find anything that would, even remotely, fulfill Sophie’s directive of dress to kill, she sighed.
“Whoa, what’s wrong?” Ashley, swaddled in the hotel dressing gown, popped through the open interconnecting door.
“Nothing. Just figuring out what to wear tonight.”
“It shouldn’t make you sigh.” Ashley placed a hand either side of Olivia’s face. Whatever she saw there made her smirk. “You
want to wear something slinky in case you bump into the sexy Connor.”
“I do not.” She was almost certain that wasn’t the reason behind her current indecision. “I just don’t want to let Sophie down, and none of my clothes
say party.”
“That’s because you don’t party, sis. You work. Exercise. Repeat.”
Very maturely, she gave Ashley the middle finger. “I enjoy working. And I’m bloody good at it.”
“True, but it’s time to focus on the things you’re not so good at. Like relaxing, letting your hair down.”
“I don’t get the point of sitting around on loungers and doing nothing. What does it achieve?”
Ashley rolled her eyes. “You’re a lost cause. Okay, if you’re not prepared to relax, how about having wild holiday sex with
a sexy-as-hell younger man?”
“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Her body still tingled every time she remembered the light touch of Connor’s fingers on her
lower back.
“Why is it ridiculous? Because of his age? Bollocks to that, he fancies you, so it isn’t an issue.”
“It would be when I took my clothes off.”
Ashley burst out laughing. “When, not if. I like it. And of course it’s not an issue. You’ve not had kids, you don’t have any saggy bits. Plus you can always turn
the lights off, though then you’d miss ogling all those muscles he’s cruelly hiding from us by wearing clothes.”
Olivia slumped onto the immaculately made king-size bed. “You make it sound so easy. I’ve not had sex in years. I don’t even
know if my bits work anymore.”
Ashley studied her a moment before coming to sit down next to her. “I’ve had sex twice since the divorce. On neither occasion
did I fancy the guy.” She gave Olivia a sad smile. “I just needed to feel . . . wanted. Like I was still attractive to someone.”
“Oh, Ash.” Olivia threw her arm around her big sister’s shoulders. “You’re a gorgeous woman in her prime. Any day now you’re
going meet someone you fancy and who fancies you back. Promise me you won’t sell yourself short anymore.”
“Oh, I won’t. I learned my lesson, both experiences made me feel worse, not better.” She took hold of Olivia’s hands and squeezed.
“But you’ve been given this amazing chance to, at the very least, be chatted up by a guy you actually fancy. Well, I assume
you fancy him, because if you don’t, I’m making an appointment for you tomorrow morning with an optician.”
Olivia laughed. “Okay, fine, I admit Connor is an attractive young man.” Gah, could she sound any primmer? “He’d be great
for Chloe, for any of Sophie’s friends, but not for me. Aside from everything else, he’s not my type.”
Ashley snorted. “Your type is dull, nice guys you tell yourself are right for you because they’re easy to slot into your life.
They don’t challenge you, don’t demand anything from you. But where’s the fun in that? Where’s the passion, the spark? It’s
time you went out with someone you don’t want to like. A man you’re drawn to despite what your brain is telling you. A guy
you think is all sorts of wrong for you, because guess what? Wrong might actually turn out to be the perfect holiday fling.”
“How can it be perfect if we have nothing in common? Frankly, I feel like an old carp out of water as it is; I don’t need
some young trendy thing making me feel worse than I already do.”
“Blah, I’m older than you and I don’t feel my best days are behind me. Age isn’t a number, it’s an attitude.” She winked.
“You’re as young as the man you feel, sis.”
Olivia put her hands up. “Enough. Let’s agree to disagree.” She turned to her wardrobe. “Now, what can I wear tonight that
won’t make me look like the bride-to-be’s maiden aunt?”
“You are Sophie’s maiden aunt,” Ashley pointed out. Then ducked, laughing, when Olivia grabbed a cushion from the bed and
made to throw it at her. “Okay, okay, let me find something that will give you a more fun-young-aunt vibe.” Ashley dashed
into her room and came back holding a vivid pink top. “Try this. Sophie said it was too big on her, so she gave it to me.”
With a huff, Olivia squeezed herself into the low-cut, stretchy halter-neck top. Then took one look in the mirror and whipped
it off. “Thanks, but no.” She shrugged on her favorite black satin top, the one that showed off her reasonably toned arms
but covered her modest assets. “Like it or not, this is me. And I’m not changing for anyone.”
Ashley smiled and touched her cheek. “You daft sod, we don’t want to change you. Only to make sure you enjoy yourself.”
The two of them knocked on Jessica’s door to collect her, then the three sisters walked downstairs to one of the hotel lounges
they’d taken over for predinner drinks. A bar was set up at one end, and tea lights flickered in lanterns on low coffee tables
that were surrounded by informal seating. What elevated it from an elegant room to a stunning one was the open doors that
led out to decking where fairy lights twinkled around wooden rails and, beyond the deck, to a magnificent view of the harbor
and the setting sun.
Sophie and her friends were already there, champagne glasses in hand.
“You’ll never guess who we saw coming out of the kitchen, Aunt Olivia,” Sophie gushed. Wearing her pink bride-to-be sash,
she darted toward them with glasses and an opened bottle.
Olivia felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “Gordon Ramsay?”
Sophie screwed up her face. “You’re right with the chef part, but way sexier than that, trust me. Especially in those chef’s
whites.” She waggled her eyebrows as she poured champagne into her mum’s glass. “Looks like you won’t be able to escape the
super-hot guy who has a crush on you, Aunt Olivia.” She beamed. “Because he works here.”
Her stomach dropped, but a beat later she felt a weird . . . flutter. “I’m sure he transferred his temporary crush to someone
else after we left last night.” She waved away the champagne and the thought that some part of her wanted to bump into him again. “I’ll stick to water for a bit like Jessica. I’m not used to all this alcohol.”
Chloe, who’d come to join them, took the bottle from Sophie, poured some into a glass, and thrust it into Olivia’s hand. “You’re
going to enjoy this experience way more with some fizz inside you.”
Oh God. She’d temporarily forgotten what they were about to witness. “Can I use my get-out-of-jail-free card and go back to my room?”
Chloe frowned. “Why on earth do you want to miss seeing some fit guys take their clothes off?”
Because I’m a fuddy-duddy. Crap, there was no way out of this without her feeling even older and more prudish than she already did.
Ashley must have read her thoughts because she slid an arm around her waist. “Of course Olivia doesn’t want to miss the hot
guys and their raunchy dancing. In fact, she’ll probably be the first to put her hand up for the chance to dance with them.”
Olivia raised the glass to her lips and took a deep gulp.
The moment he heard the bridal party had taken over the harbor-view lounge, Connor had started working on a way to justify
dropping in.
“Those canapés.” He nodded to the remaining tray of goat cheese and pesto swirls, salmon frittatas, gochujang deviled eggs,
and kimchi prawn cocktail boats he’d spent a lot of the afternoon preparing. “Are they going spare?”