Ten: His palm glides up my leg, yanking my skirt to my hips, silky smooth fingers over the globe of my ass cheek, up to my hip. He wants to make love now? Here? Look, buddy...

And at the eleventh second, I find myself across Declan’s knee, panty-covered ass exposed, the EpiPen in his hand, injected into my thigh.

With twenty hula dancers gaping at me.

Aloha.

* * *

“This place is great! Did you know how great it would be? I never knew how beautiful the ocean is here in Hawaii. And volcanoes! Oh, my God, the volcanoes! They’re so tall! And the rocks are jagged and black, with the sky so blue. Wow, Declan, look at the mints they give you on the pillow here. They’re so big and flat!” I rip open the wrapper and shove the gooey chocolate-coated peppermint into my mouth, talking around it. “Can we get more of these? Of course we can! I’m Mrs. McCormick! I freaking own this place! At least for a little bit longer, right, hubby?”

Adrenaline is a wonder drug. Adrenaline is my new best friend. Sorry, Amanda!

I didn’t get stung. Poor Ms. Landau has a swollen eyelid from taking the hit, but I survived unscathed.

Except for the EpiPen injection.

Declan turned me into Speed Racer, Hammy the Squirrel, and the female version of the Flash with one well-executed allergy rescue.

Declan watches me, nodding lightly, his eyes filled with a mixture of appraisal and concern.

“Yes.” He picks up the phone, murmurs into it, and sets the handset down.

“Yes to what? Yes to getting more mints? Yes to the volcanoes being so amazing?” I race across the room to our patio, the railing separating our private space from the soft sand, and squeal, “I can’t believe I’m in Hawaii! You brought me here! I’m halfway across the world from everything I’ve ever known and you’ve made all my dreams come true!” I fling my arms into the air and do my best Kate Winslett Titanic imitation.

Declan makes a strange grunting noise in the back of his throat.

“Can we go hiking? Look at that hiker up there! He’s wearing blue.” I point to the black cliffs on a volcano behind us. “I want to do that.”

“Shannon, he’s rock climbing.”

“That sounds like fun! Let’s go. Right now.” I grab his hand and yank him toward the door.

“We can’t go rock climbing. The resort doctor barely cleared you for coming back to the room. You need rest.”

“Rest? Rest? Pfft. Who can rest when the world is so new and inviting and free and ahhhhhhhh!”

Declan reaches for the paper the clinic doctor gave us. Once we ascertained that I wasn’t in mortal danger, that Ms. Landau isn’t allergic to bees, and that Declan blew his adrenaline wad for nothing, a quick once-over from the resort’s MD cleared me.

To be fair, Dec did the right thing. The doctor praised him.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

“How to counteract the effects of adrenaline injection,” he mutters to himself, frowning. “Hmm. Nothing here.” He picks up his phone and taps.

“Who are you calling?”

He gives me one finger.

I bite it. Hard.

“SHANNON!” he booms, pulling away, shaking it like a thermometer. Deep tooth marks mar his second knuckle.

“You taste good.” I smack my lips. “Like a salt lick. Lick lick lick. Ever notice how stupid that word sounds if you say it enough? Lick lick lick lick lick...”

I suddenly realize that I can touch the tip of my tongue to my nose. Never been able to do that before.

“Eck! Eck! Eee uht I an ooo ih I ung?” I grunt, trying to get his attention. Adrenaline must make your tongue longer. They should sell it in sex toy stores.

WOO HOO!

He gives me a scowl as he talks on the phone. “Grace? I need you to find out how to counteract the effects of adrenaline injection.” He pauses. “Yes, that’s what I said.” Pause. “No, it’s Shannon.” Pause. “She’s fine.” Pause. “Well, fine might be an exaggeration. She’s in no medical danger, but...” He drops his voice to a husky murmur.

I unpack everything in our bags in thirty seconds, then spot the coffee maker.

“Oooohhh, coffee.”

He grabs my arm. “Caffeine is the last thing you need.”

“But I am a caffeine empress! The Queen of Kona! That would make a great marketing campaign, wouldn’t it, Dec? See, I can work on our honeymoon, too. I am a wealth of ideas.”

He rubs his hand across his eyes and looks up to the ceiling, as if praying.

I start undressing, stripped naked in seconds.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting on hiking clothes.”

“Shannon, can you wait a minute? I’m on the phone with Grace.”

“Nope.” I slide on knee-length Lycra sports pants and slip my arms into a purple V-neck shirt.

“Grace? What? Nothing? Really. Damn. Thanks.” He slides the phone into his pocket and plants his hands on his hips, staring at me.

I imitate him.

“Did you know that putting your hands on your waist like that for twenty seconds or more actually increases testosterone levels in the blood?” I tell him. “And if you do this—” I raise my hands in the air like a runner crossing the finish line, victorious—“it increases testosterone even more?”

“I did not know that. Where did you learn that?”

“Pam.”

“Of course.”

“Not from my mother!” I laugh. He flinches. “She’s the one who told me swallowing semen clears up acne!”

Huh. Didn’t know Declan had that many muscles in his face. If he squints any harder he’ll turn into a shrunken head.

I start jogging in place. “Let’s go! I’ve always wanted to be one of those people who run on the beach. Let’s be that couple, Declan! Let’s run free!”

“You forgot to put on a sports bra, honey.”

I look down and nearly take out one of my eyes.

I stop jogging.

“Oops. Knew I forgot something.”

I strip off my shirt.

Declan grins, closing the gap between us, hands on my breasts. “Now that’s more like it,” he says in a low voice.

“Take off your clothes,” I order, moving to the closet.

“Aye, aye, Captain!”

I fling his workout clothes at him.