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We’re so close, and all I want to do is kiss her, taste that intoxicating sweetness of hers again. Breathing her soft vanilla scent in deeply, I lightly trail a knuckle along the edge of her cheekbone. “Don’t be so quick to fly away, little Sparrow.”

Her lips part in invitation and I lean down, unable to stop myself from kissing her. My lips barely brush hers before someone rushes past us, clipping our shoulders as they head into the side entrance. We abruptly pull away and she quickly turns, smoothing her hands through her hair.

Disappointment floods me. Again.

Later.

“C’mon,” I murmur, forcing myself to get control of the desire pumping through my veins. “We have a job to do.”

She nods and we walk through what can only be the servants’ entrance. Because I have no doubt this side door, tucked away from the grand main entrance, is only used by the hired help. Hell, Torres probably doesn’t even know it exists, which makes it an absolute advantage for us.

Now that we’re so close to the party, the mild air fills with the sounds of chatting, laughing guests, clinking silverware and the strains of music from a band. We sign fake names and jot down the current time on the required sheet attached to a clipboard, and then someone directs us to the pool.

“Who hires people to swim in their pool?” Hunter asks.

“Someone who can,” I answer.

She makes a little humph sound. “I don’t really understand the point.”

After weaving our way through tall palm trees and a variety of fruit trees, we step onto a back patio made up of tan and white stones.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” she murmurs under her breath, walking forward and looking up.

The pool hovers above the patio and has a glass bottom. It’s absolutely surreal, totally striking. It works amazingly well since the house is made up of different levels. There’s a second pool, too, here on the ground floor, but the star of the show is the one above us.

Just beyond the second pool, there’s an expansive glass wall that’s been pulled open. It looks like it connects to the garden and a golf course. The sprawling, open-plan house is insanely extravagant and far too much for any one person.

“Fancy,” I comment dryly. There are a couple of cabanas, and I nod at them. “Let’s change.”

Hunter chooses the one on the left, so I step into the other one and quickly remove my clothes, stuffing them in my small bag. I’m already wearing my swim shorts and adjust them. They’re far smaller and shorter than the trunks I normally prefer, but when in Spain…

Plus, the moment Brighton laughingly suggested Speedos, I refused. Stuffing my generous junk into a tiny pair of Speedos is a wardrobe malfunction just waiting to happen. Tonight’s job doesn’t include a strip show. Although, if it were Hunter stripping, I might change my mind.

Pulling in a deep breath, I grab the plush black robe hanging on a hook, slip it on and prepare myself.

Seeing Hunter in a bathing suit is going to make me want things.

Things I can’t have right now. And God forbid I get a massive hard-on and embarrass myself in front of her and a few hundred guests.

Stepping out of the cabana, I wait for her, watching guests mingle through the glass in another part of the house. My earpiece crackles and Addie comes through loud and clear.

“Is everyone in position?” she asks, and we all check in. “Then let the search begin.”

“Cams are looping,” Ryder confirms.

According to the house’s layout and intel from The Man, there’s an office and library on the first floor, each with a safe. There’s also an office on the second floor and the master bedroom is on the third floor. Endless possibilities.

The emerald could be anywhere.

Tonight, I’m merely playing a distraction. Swimming in a glass bottom pool and charming the guests. But if Addie needs me, if something comes up or changes, I’ll be ready.

Speaking of distractions…

Hunter walks out of the cabana and my gaze drifts down the black robe, pausing on her red-polished toes. Imagining what’s hidden beneath all that fluffy terry cloth, I give her a smile.

“Ready to get wet?” I ask.

Okay, so maybe not the best choice of words. Shit.

“Let’s do it,” she murmurs, and I relax slightly.

There’s a small staircase dripping with pink bougainvillea and we take it up to the second level.

As I’m reaching for the belt on my robe, Hunter lets hers slide off her shoulders.

My mouth waters as she tosses it over a lounge chair.

Fuck me. Smooth, lithe limbs, toned abs and tanned skin fill my vision.

She’s wearing a tiny red bikini, and all I can do is stare and hope she doesn’t see my drool.

She’s absolutely perfect. Beyond gorgeous.

And every nerve ending in my body responds to her.

Look away , I warn myself. Before you pop out the side of your swimsuit.

But I can’t. Not for all the emeralds in the world.

She’s utterly mesmerizing, and I watch as she pulls the rubberband free and shakes out her long, reddish-brown hair.

I’ve never seen it down, free of the ponytail she usually confines it to, and my fingers itch to run through all those russet-colored strands.

She turns to face the water, giving me a new angle to ogle.

That ass is beyond tempting, and I want those long legs wrapped around my waist so badly I can taste it.

The fantasies start to set my brain and body on fire with hungry desire.

Glancing over her shoulder, she must notice me gawking, but she doesn’t comment.

Just sends me a wicked little smirk then dives into the crystal blue water.

I swipe a hand through my hair then hurry over to the edge and dive in, too. And even though I know I should stay far away from her and cool the hell off, what do I do?

I swim straight toward the object of my affection, lust burning through my blood.