Chapter 7
SEVEN
Clearly, she’d left reality behind somewhere in the Phuket airport. Because Chloe had walked into a fairytale.
The glass elevator whisked them up through the rainforest canopy toward Keemala resort’s reception area.
Carved teakwood pillars soared toward a ceiling painted with intricate Thai motifs.
Through magnificent windows, the Andaman Sea stretched to the horizon, while traditional longtail boats dotted Kamala Beach far below.
Focus. She accepted a champagne flute filled with sparkling coconut water from the smiling reception manager. She was on her honeymoon.
She most certainly should not think about Skeet, or how he’d smelled like a man on vacation when he helped her out of the taxi.
This was just a cover.
“Welcome to Keemala, Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds.” The manager was elegant in her coral silk dress and traditional Thai jewelry, silver bracelets chiming as she gestured toward the lobby’s windows. “How may we assist you today?”
“We’d like to check in,” Skeet said in a casual vacation voice. He slipped his hand to the small of Chloe’s back. “We’re on our honeymoon.”
Her entire body heated.
Stop.
The manager’s face lit up. “Oh, how wonderful! Congratulations.” She picked up her tablet, scrolling through the reservations. “I have the perfect accommodation for you. We’re upgrading you to our Bird’s Nest Pool Villa—complimentary, of course. It’s our honeymoon gift to you.”
Skeet’s arm slipped around Chloe’s waist, and he pulled her against himself. Easy. Natural. But it only ignited a terrible fire inside her, his body strong against hers.
Probably too late to ask for separate rooms.
“That’s generous, thank you,” Skeet said.
“The villa is nestled beneath our rainforest canopy, connected by jungle pathways. Very private.” The manager’s eyes twinkled. “Perfect for newlyweds.”
No! Bad idea! She glanced at Skeet.
He just smiled as if to say Perfect. Even glanced at her and winked.
Winked!
She took a long sip of the cool coconut water.
Oh boy.
A bellhop materialized beside them—young, immaculate in his pressed uniform. He glanced at her single backpack and his military-style rucksack. The luggage looked more suited to a jungle expedition than a luxury honeymoon, but he hefted both with professional dignity.
The pathways belonged in a botanical garden.
Towering fig trees draped with vines created a living canopy overhead.
Rare orchids bloomed in shades of purple and gold.
The scent of frangipani and pikul floated in the air.
In the canopy above, exotic birds called to each other.
And in the distance, waves tossed against the shore.
When she rounded the final curve, Chloe’s breath caught.
Their villa perched in the treetops. Woven bamboo slats formed an organic cocoon around floor-to-ceiling windows, while a private infinity pool seemed to float among the branches. The structure appeared to grow from the forest itself.
“Wow.” Skeet shot her a sideways grin.
“Definitely wow.”
She stepped onto the wooden deck. Two plush, cushioned daybeds faced the endless blue of the Andaman Sea. Below them, the resort’s other villas nestled among the trees like exotic birds’ nests.
She almost wished they really were on their honeymoon.
The interior blended into the natural environment. Bamboo walls, teak floors, and white silk curtains billowing in the cross breeze, rosewood furniture that looked hand carved. Through the bedroom’s sliding glass door, the pool beckoned with turquoise water so clear it looked like liquid crystal.
Then she noticed the bed.
One bed.
King-sized and draped in mosquito netting, but one bed. Of course. They were supposed to be newlyweds. What had she expected?
She caught Skeet looking from the bed to the polished concrete floor, then back to the bed. His jaw tightened.
“I like the floor,” he said quietly, as he tipped the bellhop.
“We’re adults. We can figure it out.”
The look he gave her edged on dubious.
Oh. Um. Okay. “I’m going to change for dinner.”
The bathroom seemed carved out of the jungle—a sunken stone tub surrounded by a living wall of tropical plants, a rainfall shower open to a private garden, where butterflies danced among orchids. Chloe stared at her reflection in the copper mirror, noting the flush in her cheeks.
She took a quick shower, then put on the coral silk dress she’d bought that morning. And just like that, it transformed her from jungle-weary journalist to resort sophisticate. The fabric skimmed her curves without clinging, the color bringing out the gold highlights in her blonde hair.
She almost felt like a newlywed.
When she emerged from the bathroom, the villa was empty. But through the glass doors, splashing sounded from the pool.
Skeet cut through the water with powerful strokes, his shoulders gleaming in the late-afternoon sun. He’d changed into his recently purchased board shorts. When he surfaced near the pool’s edge, water streaming from his sandy brown hair, Chloe’s mouth went dry.
He was a finely formed man—shoulders, chest, some washboard to his abs. She probably could have guessed that, given her memory of him holding her earlier.
She averted her eyes as he hauled himself out of the pool in one fluid motion. He reached for a towel. “Sorry, I needed to clear my head before dinner.”
“No problem.” For Pete’s sake, did her voice actually squeak?
When he disappeared into the bathroom, she remembered to breathe.
Ten minutes later, he emerged transformed. The white linen button-down he’d bought that morning looked custom tailored, paired with khaki shorts and casual leather shoes. His hair, still damp and tousled, made him look as if he’d stepped off a yacht.
“Ready for dinner, Mrs. Reynolds?” He offered his arm with a smile that could have powered the resort’s generators.
The restaurant matched the rest of the elegant resort—carved wooden pillars supporting an arched ceiling, big paddle fans stirring the air.
Rattan chairs surrounded tables set with crisp white linens.
A wall of patio doors opened to the outdoor seating and the darkening sky, where the first stars were beginning to twinkle.
“Table for two?” The hostess led them to a corner spot with perfect views of both the dining room and the terrace beyond.
Skeet held Chloe’s chair, his fingers brushing her shoulders as she sat. The simple gesture sent warmth through her chest.
Just an act. Just an act!
Except it didn’t feel like an act when he leaned close to study the menu, his shoulder touching hers, his freshly showered scent sweet and painfully distracting.
“What looks good to you?”
You.
Oh no—did she actually think that? She tried to focus on the menu.
“The miso-glazed black cod with coconut espuma is exquisite,” their server suggested. “And our shaved fennel and citrus salad is prepared with greens picked fresh from our garden.”
Chloe closed her menu and nodded.
“Perfect. And a bottle of your Riesling.” Skeet handed back the menus, so much easy confidence in his voice. “We’re celebrating our honeymoon.” And then he took her hand and all her words left her. Just . . . gone.
“Congratulations! I’ll bring you our honeymoon appetizer—compliments of the chef.”
Skeet let Chloe’s hand go when the server left, and leaned back in his chair, his expression shifting to business mode. “So. The plan.”
The plan. The plan!
Right. “Um. I guess find Volkov, follow him, see what we can learn.” At least she remembered to keep her voice low.
“The layout works in our favor. Jungle pathways, lots of cover.” His gaze scanned the room. “The question is whether he’s dining here tonight.”
Their appetizer arrived—a beautiful arrangement of gold-wrapped parcels. “Meang kham,” the server explained. “Betel-leaf wraps with coconut, ginger, peanuts, and tamarind sauce. Very traditional.”
Chloe unwrapped one and bit into it. Flavors exploded across her tongue—sweet, sour, spicy, and savory all at once. “Oh wow.”
“Good?” Skeet’s eyes crinkled with amusement.
“Amazing. Try one.” She held out a wrap. When he leaned forward to take it, his fingers brushed hers.
Heat shot up her arm. From the way his eyes darkened, he felt it too.
She swallowed, his gaze holding hers.
Hopefully he liked the floor because—
Movement near the restaurant’s entrance caught her attention. Two figures being seated across the dining room—a silver-haired man in an expensive linen shirt, and a striking dark-haired woman with sharp cheekbones. The man moved with the confidence that came from wielding power.
Leonid Volkov.
“Don’t look now,” Chloe murmured. “Target acquired. Two o’clock.”
Skeet’s posture didn’t change. His eyes tracked the reflection in the window beside them. “Confirmed. With a companion.”
“What’s the plan?”
“Patience. We finish dinner like the happy honeymooners we are, then follow when he leaves.” He picked up another wrap.
Whatever. She could barely hear him over the thunder of her heart.
Their main courses arrived. They ate while keeping watch on their target. Volkov and his companion spoke in low, intense conversation. Volkov kept a hand on her chair, possessive.
Chloe and Skeet lingered over dessert and coffee, playing the part of tourists in no hurry.
When Volkov stood, Skeet paid, then pulled out her chair. Offered her his arm. “Shall we take that walk now, darling?” Skeet asked loudly enough for nearby tables to hear.
The restaurant’s terrace opened onto a different world. Live music drifted from a small stage where musicians played traditional Thai instruments. Couples swayed on a the dance floor while others sat in lounge chairs around the terrace, drinking wine and listening.
Chloe spotted Volkov and his companion heading toward the elevated walkways that led to the villa section. “There. Moving toward the tree houses.”