The opportunity to miss Corrie, even when they were dating . . . yeah, that never really happened. She was right there, ready to jump when he called. She fell into place, and asking her to marry him was as much about closing a chapter in his life and moving forward as any business deal he’d been a part of.

He was an asshole.

Marriage wasn’t a business.

At least it isn’t supposed to be.

Marriage and love are about the welled up emotion that surfaces at the most unexpected times. Like with Shannon today. He hadn’t missed the tears in her eyes when she spoke of her ex.

Victor kicked his feet off the bed and retrieved his laptop.

He ignored the three hundred new e-mails in his inbox and logged into the hotel’s Wi-Fi. He googled Paul and Shannon Wentworth and scanned through their public pictures.

“Jesus.” He blew out a whistle.

He knew she was attractive, obviously. Between his voyeur tendencies, the killer white bikini, and the relaxed sundresses she wore, it was hard to miss her beauty. The pictures he looked at now were of her and her ex-husband in black-tie attire, floor-length rhinestone studded dresses, full makeup, and jewelry fit for a princess.

Victor stuck to his earlier conviction.

Paul Wentworth was a fool.

Victor removed Paul’s name from the search and found a new thread of society page photographs. Pictures ranging from gossip magazines after her divorce to her attending celebrity weddings. In fact, on closer inspection, it looked as if Shannon and Avery had both been in the wedding party of a well-known country singer and an oil heiress.

Yeah, Shannon Wentworth was a lady, where Corrie stuck out like a college student.

He had an itchy desire to read the articles about her divorce, then decided against it. He considered it a violation of her privacy, even in light of it being public knowledge.

“Yet you secretly watch her swimming naked,” he said to himself. “Twisted, Vic . . . really twisted.”

He glanced again at the number inside the red circle above his e-mail inbox, clenched his fists, and closed his computer.

It could wait.

Whatever it was . . . it could wait.

Stephanie was told to call him only if the sky was falling.

Victor peeked out the window. Nope . . . the sky was still there.

Clouds rolled in as the sun started to go down, and the rain that made the region tropical started to fall.

Shannon and Avery ended up having dinner at the hotel restaurant, where Victor joined them. They took their time with their meal but ended the night early.

Avery still wasn’t a hundred percent, and Victor didn’t suggest they extend the night longer.

The next morning, Shannon sat on the side of Avery’s bed, placing a cold washcloth on her head. “I think you need to see a doctor.”

“I must have eaten something bad.”

“Food poisoning doesn’t last this long. Unless you ate something that has a parasite, it wouldn’t linger.”

Avery’s eyes widened. “I’ve heard horror stories of stuff in the food here.”

“That has to be it. We didn’t drink last night, and I didn’t buy a hangover from the night before. No offense, my friend, but your liver is seasoned better than that.”

Avery attempted to smile through her misery.

“I could just be sick.”

Shannon thought that, too. “What do you want to do? We can find a clinic.”

Avery shook her head. “A Mexican hospital isn’t something I want to experience, not when I don’t speak the language. If I’m not feeling better by tonight, we’ll go.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Shannon. I know this isn’t how you pictured the week to be.”

She stood. “It’s okay. I wasn’t ready for meaningless sex yet, anyway. I’ll go out to the beach and check on you by lunch. If you’re not feeling any better, I’m going to drag you to the nearest doctor.”

Avery rolled over, tucked her hands under her cheek. “I might let you.”

Shannon grabbed a coffee from the hotel coffee bar and parked herself in her usual beach spot.

She opened the book she’d been nibbling away at and lay back to take in the morning. It didn’t take long for Dylan and Erasmo to find her and settle in, and soon after, Victor worked his way down.

“Good morning.”

It was a simple greeting. One she’d just received from Dylan and Erasmo . . . yet his had her smiling on the inside.

“Morning.”

He spread out under the palapa to her left and glanced briefly at her body. “No white swimsuit today?”

She blushed. “I need to switch up the tan lines.”

Today she wore a more conservative navy blue number without all the crisscross strings.

“Still nice,” he said. “But yesterday’s wins.”

“I didn’t know there was a contest.”

He leaned back, put sunglasses over his eyes. “Now that you do, I’ll look forward to tomorrow.”

“Look forward to disappointment, then. I only brought two. One to wear, one to dry.”

Dylan overheard their conversation and spoke up. “I can help you with that.”

Shannon picked up her e-reader, woke up the screen. “Victor can have his own little fashion show in his head. I have plenty of suits at home. No need to shop here.”

“Where’s Avery?” Erasmo asked a few minutes later.

“She’s still not feeling right. I want to take her to the doctor, but she’s not cooperating.”

“She’s not drinking the water out of the tap, is she?” Victor asked.

“No.”

“She didn’t drink alcohol last night,” he added.

“Even if she did, of all my friends, she’s the one with the iron stomach.”

“She seemed fine last night.”

“I know. It’s like she’s allergic to the morning.” Sick in the morning . . . fine by the evening. It reminded her of when she wanted to skip school as a kid.

Only Avery was skipping her vacation.

“Is that the new e-reader?” Dylan asked.

Unless . . .

“Yeah,” Shannon answered on autopilot.

She flipped forward several chapters in the book she was reading and came across the one titled “Pregnant and Single.” She skimmed several pages and read a passage on morning sickness.

“Oh my God.”

“What?” Victor asked.

Shannon dropped her e-reader and jumped up. “I’ll be back.”

She all but ran through the sand, around the beach chairs, and up the stairs to their suite. She swung the door open, startling Avery.

“Geez, Shannon . . . you scared me.”

“You don’t have a parasite,” she said, smiling. “You’re pregnant.”

Chapter Fifteen

Victor watched as Shannon ran off. “What is that all about?” he asked the other guys.

“Who knows. I don’t try and figure out the actions of women,” Erasmo said.

Victor laughed.

Dylan moved over to Shannon’s spot and picked up the e-reader he had been asking her about. “I’ve been thinking about getting one of these.” He waved it around. “It’s waterproof. Perfect for the beach.”

Things like that didn’t interest Victor.

He looked around the shade of his palapa to see if he could get a glimpse of Shannon up in her room, but his vantage point wasn’t nearly as good as it was across the beach.

“Oh, wow . . .”

Victor glanced over to Dylan, who looked at him, and then the device in his hand.

He dismissed Dylan’s excitement over the new technology and folded his arms behind his head and started to close his eyes.

“Oh, oh . . . no.”

“What’s so exciting?” Erasmo asked.

“Nothing.” Once again, Dylan looked at Victor, then the e-reader.

Dylan dropped the device and scooted back to his spot next to Erasmo.

Victor started to close his eyes again.

“Do you read for pleasure?” Dylan asked him.

“No time,” he replied.

“That’s too bad. You can learn a lot about a person by what they read.”

Erasmo laughed. “Which would make you a serial killer with all the thrillers you go through.”

Victor felt the weight of someone watching him.

He opened his eyes and saw Dylan. When his gaze moved to where Shannon had been sitting, or more importantly, the e-reader he’d been so fascinated with, Victor caught on.

He sat up. “Waterproof, huh?”

Dylan nodded. “Lightweight, too.”

Victor looked up, didn’t see Shannon, and saw his hand reaching toward her stuff.

He touched the screen and it came to life. It took him a few sentences to comprehend what he was reading.

A book on pregnancy? No . . . not exactly.

He flipped through and found a chapter heading and the title of the book.

No, no. Why would Shannon . . . ?

“Pretty cool, right?” Dylan asked.

He had to be mistaken. Was the woman pregnant? He thought of the bikini hugging her body. A bathing suit like that was what a woman wore to attract a man. Not to mention the alcohol. Shannon seemed like a responsible woman. Pregnant women didn’t drink.

Victor knew it was wrong, but he clicked on what looked like a menu and the images of book covers popped on the screen. Single Mothers. Single Motherhood by Choice. Skip the Syringe, Just Have Sex.