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then jammed it into her empty plastic cup. When the flight attendant came back around to prepare them for landing, she handed her the trash, with the note—an uneventful ending to the last year of her love life. As though it had never been.
    When they hit the runway, Hunter jerked awake and gave her a sexy, slumberous smile that warmed her from the inside out.
    “Bienvenido a México,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your vacation, Melanie.”
    Thoughtful on top of sexy.
    “Or should I call you by your adult-film-star name?”
    She laughed. “And what would that be?”
    “You tell me. Though you look like a Candy to me.”
    “Why is that?”
    “Sweet.”
    Melanie wasn’t sure if she was sweet or not. She liked to think she was nice, but adjectives used to describe her normally ran more along the lines of efficient, organized, punctual. Nothing exciting at all. There wasn’t a porn name out there that really suited her. “I’m not feeling it.”
    “Melly, then. Melly Ambrosia.”
    “Melly?” It did sound suitably made-up, which was almost a prerequisite for a porn-star name. “I can live with that. So is that our story at the resort? I’m a porn star? No one will buy it when they see me in a bikini.”
    “Tell people whatever you want. You’re on vacation.”
    “So you keep reminding me.” Melanie looked out the window. No snow. The sun was shining. No work to be done. Check. She was on vacation. There was a fruity drink in her future.
    She had to admit, as they walked down the stairs of the plane and crossed the runway to the airport entrance, the warm tropical breeze felt amazing on her winter-weary skin. She rolled her shoulders to work out the kinks and raised her face to the sun.
    “Ah, that feels so good,” she told Hunter. He was carrying his suit jacket over his shoulder and squinting as he walked behind her. “Do you want to go to the pool when we get to the hotel?”
    “Whatever you want,” he said. “I am here to follow you.”
    Right. This bullshit bodyguard business. Maybe they needed to discuss that a little further. “How long did Ian hire you for?” If Hunter thought he was going to shadow her back in Chicago, this was going to get old quick. She wanted him to roll around naked in bed with her, not silently follow her as she walked to the coffee shop. That was just weird. And wait—
did
she want Hunter to roll around naked in bed with her?
    She glanced back at him. He was rolling up his shirtsleeves. Yes. Why, yes, she did. Bad Melanie. Or maybe in this case, Melly. If she were pretending to be Melly Ambrosia, adult-film star, would Hunter want to have sex with her? Or would he still see her as nothing more than a boring work assignment?
    And if she were assuming a fictional identity in the name of fun and spontaneity, that wasn’t like having a pathetic rebound affair, was it? It was her breaking out of her shell, celebrating her newly single status and her ability to have sex whenever she felt like.
    That was what it would be. If she did it. Which she wouldn’t. But she was certain of one thing—there was no relationship in her immediate future. If she wanted a little boom-boom, it was going to have to be on the condition that they were not dating. Which was in direct contradiction to everything she had done for the past twelve years. When push came to shove, she doubted she could actually go through with the casual-sex thing, which meant her unfortunate and unintentional state of celibacy was going to continue.
    It was ridiculous that in a relationship she’d had to suffer unsatisfied. Sex with Ian hadn’t been bad, but he had always been a little selfish. It seemed she was a little slow on the uptake if she was just now figuring out there had been about nine million red flags as to why things with Ian hadn’t been working. It had looked good on paper, but you couldn’t make someone fall for you like a ton of bricks if he didn’t want to.
    Assessing someone based on data