Hot Number

by Sheridon Smythe

  She flashed him a rueful grin. “Dare I ask?"

  The bartender shrugged, grinning back. “It's my own specialty. It's called Rick's Remedy."

  "I take it you're Rick?"

  "In the flesh."

  She gave a start at the familiar words. Why did everything remind her of the one person she was trying to forget? With a sigh, she asked, “And the remedy is for...?"

  "Your gloomy face."

  "Oh.” Ashley swallowed a laugh. “I'm Ashley."

  "Nice to meet you, Ashley. Want to tell me about the long face?"

  Ashley grimaced and took a cautious sip of her drink. It was strong and sweet, but just flavorful enough to tolerate. “I wouldn't want to bore you."

  Rick glanced around, then leaned close to whisper dramatically, “Don't look now, but we're being watched. You see, it's my job to make people smile. You leave here without smiling, and I could lose my job."

  Rick sounded so sincere that Ashley had to laugh. She didn't believe him for a second, but she liked him. “Well, you probably won't think it's a big deal, but there was a mix-up with the cabin arrangements, and I'm having to share with my ex-husband."

  "Hm. Same last names, I take it?"

  "Yes."

  "I can see how that could happen."

  Reluctantly, she agreed. “I suppose it would be an easy mistake to make.” She took a deep breath. “The thing is, I just can't stay there with him."

  "So the old flame still burns, eh?"

  Surprised by his shrewd observation, Ashley glanced sharply at him. He stared back at her without blinking. She frowned. “I wish I could say it didn't, but I'd be lying. It's—it's just a physical thing."

  "How long were you married?"

  "A year. We've been divorced for two years, and I'm engaged to someone else. So is he."

  "Ahh.” Rick nodded as if he completely understood. “Want another one of those?"

  Ashley stared at her empty glass in surprise. “Yeah, sure. Why not.” She did feel more relaxed, she thought, wondering how many more it would take before her thighs stopped quivering and her breasts stopped aching. A quick glance down revealed that her nipples were still standing at attention, as well.

  Michael had that effect on her. It seemed that nothing had changed in that department.

  "I guess it's just plain, old-fashioned body chemistry,” she said, sipping her drink.

  "So, you're engaged."

  "Yeah. To Tom."

  "What's he like?"

  "Hm. He's taller than me by about three inches and very solid. Broad shoulders, broad chest, narrow waist and narrow hips. He's got dark brown hair that gets these golden streaks in the summer, and his eyes are brown, but not just an ordinary brown.” Absently, she turned the empty glass in her hands. “They're more like a rich dark chocolate, and sometimes they turn as black as midnight."

  "And your ex-husband? What's he like?"

  With a start of pure shock, Ashley jerked her gaze to the bartender's. “I—that's who I was describing.” When Rick's eyebrows rose, she flushed. “You tricked me."

  "I didn't,” he denied, switching out her drink with a fresh one. He wiped the counter in front of her until it gleamed beneath the overhead lights. “But if you ask me, I think you've still got issues with your ex-husband. Maybe this mix up was fate, something you needed."

  Ashley's mouth went bone dry. She knew, but she had to ask anyway. “What do you mean?"

  Rick shrugged. “Maybe you need to purge yourself. Get him out of your system. Bring some closure to the relationship."

  "Closure.” Although his suggestion alarmed her, she liked the sound of that one word. Closure. Perhaps she did need closure with Michael. It was something to think about.

  The speaker overhead crackled as a cool, feminine voice announced that an informal dinner would be served in the ship's dining room in thirty minutes.

  "You won't want to miss it,” Rick said. “They're serving petite lobster tails and coconut shrimp."

  "Yes, well...” Ashley slipped from the stool and had to steady herself against the counter. “How many of those drinks did I have?"

  "Three.” Rick grinned. “Harmless ... unless you haven't eaten."

  "Oh.” Now he tells her! “Well, thanks for the advice and the drinks."

  "My pleasure. Come back and see me anytime, Ashley. Michael's a lucky guy."

  Ashley stumbled and grabbed the back of a chair. “Don't you mean Tom?"

  "Yeah, Tom."

  Funny, she thought as she made her careful way back to the fated cabin. She couldn't remember telling Rick her ex-husband's name. But she must have. Otherwise, how would he have known?

  * * * *

  She found the cabin door locked. Ashley used her key and let herself in, muttering a prayer beneath her breath that Michael would be gone.

  The cabin appeared to be empty.

  She heaved a grateful sigh and quickly locked the door, although she knew it would be useless if Michael decided to return. She changed into a sleeveless blue summer dress, slipped into a new pair of matching sandals that had cost her more than she would normally spend on a month's worth of groceries, and spent the remaining fifteen minutes hanging the rest of her new clothes in the beautiful armoire adjacent to Michael's.

  She tried not to think about the coming night and sharing the cabin with him, but it was impossible not to. Should she take Rick's advice and get Michael out of her system? And what if her plan backfired? What if she fell in love with Michael again?

  Ashley gasped as a sharp pain stabbed her chest. Oh, no, there was no chance of that happening. She would never put herself through that again. Never allow it to happen. In the last two years, she had come a long way from that silly, lovesick, naive girl Michael had swept off her feet. She was a knowledgeable woman now, and the blinders were off. Men like Michael could not remain faithful to one woman.

  Which was why she had picked safe, sedate, and gentle Tom. She could trust him. In fact, it had been Tom's idea that they wait to consummate their relationship. He'd wanted everything to be just right, and she had agreed.

  Ashley's rueful chuckle startled her. After her crazy reaction to Michael, she wasn't certain Tom's decision to wait had been the right one. Apparently, she'd been steadily building up sexual steam.

  Michael had touched off her ‘release’ valve.

  But now she was prepared, and he wouldn't surprise her again. If something happened between them in the next seven days, it would happen because she allowed it to happen. Because she wanted it to happen.

  And if she allowed it to happen, it would be to purge herself of Michael once and for all so she could have a happy life with Tom.

  Ashley locked the cabin door and followed the flow of people to the enormous dining room. A hostess consulted her dinner card and led the way to the table assigned to her during the cruise.

  "Everyone, this is Ashley Kavanagh,” the hostess said, clapping her hands to gain their attention.

  The three men sitting at the table immediately rose, including Michael. Ashley sucked in a sharp breath at how handsome he looked in dark green Khaki's and a pullover polo shirt in the exact same shade.

  "Mrs. Kavanagh will be your dinner companion for the duration of the cruise.” The hostess indicated that Ashley be seated. “Please introduce yourselves,” she added before disappearing into the crowd.

  Ashley avoided Michael's heated gaze, and concentrated on her companions. She froze as she recognized the elderly couple beaming at her. Heat rushed over her in a fiery burst.

  It was the same shameless couple that had interrupted their furious coupling. Ashley didn't know whether she should thank them or curse them.

  The elderly woman was the first to speak. “Oh, we've met, haven't we, Mrs. Kavanagh? And your husband, Michael. I'm Birdie and this is Bart, my husband. This is our fourth cruise."

  "Our sixth, sweetheart,” Bart corrected gently, giving her hand an affectionate pat.

  "Nice to mee
t you,” Ashley mumbled. She knew her face was flaming, and she knew Michael was amused by it. So she ignored him.

  The next introduction came from a gorgeous honey-blonde with full, red lips and a skimpy dress made of a daring, sheer material that revealed more than it covered. Ashley fancied she could actually see the dark shadow of the woman's nipples through the dress. She looked to be in her late twenties.

  "Hello. I'm Tanya Reeves. I'm recently divorced from a doctor who was obviously already married to his work, and this is my first cruise."

  Her soft, husky voice scraped over Ashley's nerves like nails on chalk. She glanced at Michael to catch his reaction, and found him watching Tanya with a bemused expression on his face, as if he didn't know quite what to make of her. The sharp pang she felt was not jealousy, Ashley told herself.

  "And last but not least, I'm Deckland Jennings. I'm a psychologist slash writer, currently on hiatus while I finish my book."

  Deckland was a tall, big-boned man somewhere in his early to mid-forties with an easy smile and intelligent blue eyes. Ashley liked him instantly. “What is your book about?” she asked politely. Taking her cue from the others, she began eating the salad the waiter had placed before her. After three of Rick's remedies, she figured it would be in her best interest to get some food in her stomach.

  "I'm writing about body chemistry."

  Ashley choked on her salad. Beside her, she heard Michael inhale sharply. Then he was pounding her back so hard he brought tears to her eyes.

  When the dust settled, Deckland joked, “Was it something I said?"

  "If anyone would know about body chemistry,” Birdie said outrageously, “It would be these two.” She nodded at Ashley and Michael. “Maybe they can help you with your research."

  Ashley wanted to melt into a puddle and slip beneath the table. She knew her face was absolutely glowing.

  "They're on their second honeymoon,” Bart informed everyone. “Michael and I had a nice chat before everyone else arrived. Didn't we, Michael?"

  "Indeed we did, Bart."

  She heard the laughter in his voice, but couldn't believe it. Wasn't he embarrassed? Was it so very different for men?

  "I remember the good old days when I could make love standing up. Don't you, Birdie?"

  "Yes, I do, Bart.” Birdie said without a trace of embarrassment. “But when your knee gave out and I hit my hip against the kitchen table, we decided it was time to use the bed."

  Bart leaned in to kiss her wrinkled cheek. “Ah, you remember."

  Was this couple for real? Ashley wondered, speechless with shock. She had always thought the older generation more reserved, even prudish. Obviously, Bart and Birdie came from a different planet!

  "Don't be shy, Mrs. Kavanagh,” Birdie teased. “It's our duty to make certain Mr. Jennings gets his facts straight. Right Bart?"

  "Right, Birdie. We haven't forgotten that fellow who wrote the article about our nudist colony.” Bart waved his fork at his audience. “Mangled the facts badly. Talked about orgies and voodoo rituals! It was nonsense."

  "All nonsense,” Birdie echoed, sounding offended. “Except for that time Merle and Jake—"

  "You mean Dan and Charlotte—"

  "Ah, here's our main course,” Deckland exclaimed, smoothly ending what Ashley was certain would have been another embarrassing revelation.

  She had never been so embarrassed in her life! It wasn't enough that the senior couple had witnessed their wild sex—they had told everyone at the dinner table about it. And what had gotten into Michael? He'd obviously led Bart to believe they were on their second honeymoon.

  Why would he tell such an outright lie?

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Five

  Moonlight dancing across the ocean water set a romantic scene that Ashley would never forget. Overhead, the stars were visible, lighting up the sky like a scattering of diamonds against a black velvet blanket. They looked so close she felt she could reach up and scoop them into her hand.

  The air was warm and wet and tasted of salt, like passion-soaked skin after a bout of wild love-making. Waves lapped against the sides of the ship, lulling Ashley into a false sense of serenity as she stood by the railing on the upper deck.

  How could she feel serene when she was about to put her heart in jeopardy? Did she truly think she could spend time with Michael without throwing her heart into the ring? He was a ruthless womanizer—something she couldn't forget—not even for an instant.

  She had foolishly forgotten ... once upon a time.

  "It's beautiful, isn't it?"

  Ashley stiffened, but didn't turn around. Looking at Michael beneath a full moon would be courting a madness she wasn't prepared to handle. Heck, she couldn't look at him in the daylight without her knees buckling. “Yes.” Then, very deliberately, she added, “I was just wishing Tom was here."

  "Why isn't he?"

  "He gets seasick.” She wished she didn't sound so defensive. Another trick of Michael's, always turning the tables. “How about Candy? Why didn't she join you?” She felt the warmth of his breath an instant before his arm brushed against her hip as he moved to stand beside her at the railing.

  Her nipples sprang to attention as if he'd touched them instead of her hip.

  "An important job came up."

  A snort escaped before she could stop it. “She's a stripper, Michael. What kind of job could she have that was more important than joining you on a cruise?"

  "She an exotic dancer, not a stripper."

  "An exotic dancer that does lap dances?” For the life of her, Ashley couldn't keep the sarcasm from her voice.

  "Kim should get her facts straight,” Michael said. “Candy doesn't do lap dances ... unless she and I are alone."

  And just like that, he thrust the arrow deep.

  The pain petrified Ashley. After two years of self-therapy, she should feel nothing, nothing at all! Determined that he should never know the extent of her wound, Ashley rallied. “Earlier you said Candy was old fashioned. Now you're implying she performs private lap dances for you. So which is it?"

  "There are ways to make love without sexual intercourse, Ash. You know that."

  Graphic, painful images immediately swamped her mind. Ashley gave herself a mental shake as she lied, “I know exactly what you mean. Tom and I tried to wait, but we just couldn't."

  Beside her, she felt him jerk. Intense satisfaction flooded her. Touché, she thought.

  "You never did have much control, did you?"

  Well, she supposed she deserved that one. “And you did?” she challenged, moving slightly away from him. She didn't want him touching her; it muddled her train of thought.

  "We were hot for each other. That hasn't changed."

  "Maybe for you, it hasn't,” Ashley lied baldly. “But for me it has. I told you, I had a weak moment."

  In a flash, Michael was behind her, pressing against her buttocks and thighs in a flagrantly sexual way that bordered on primal. She could feel the entire length of him nestled between her butt cheeks.

  He was hard, hot, and throbbing.

  His breath washed over her bare neck just before his hot mouth scalded her skin as he kissed her shoulder, her neck, and her ear. She shivered violently and tried to twist away, denying her instant arousal. He caught her around the waist and hauled her back against him until there was no doubt that he was ready to take her then and there.

  "There's no one else up here,” he whispered hoarsely. “I could bend you over and take you here and now.” He moved his hand between her legs, finding her moist and ready through the fabric of her panties. His other hand moved up to cover her breast, his fingers finding and kneading her hard nipple until she moaned.

  "Just say the word,” he coaxed, breathing hard. He took her hand and thrust it between them, urging her to feel his rock-hard erection. “And I'll make you scream."

  For one insane, mind-melting instant, Ashley closed her fingers over him. She felt him throb
and swell. And the heat ... the heat he radiated was incredible.

  "No!” She wrenched the word from her constricted throat, then followed it through by jerking herself free of him. She stood there on the deck, the wind blowing her hair in her eyes and her breath coming in painful bursts. “No, Michael! This isn't going to happen. It's—it's just lust, and we're strong enough to resist. We have to resist!"

  "Why?” he demanded, his eyes black and glittering. He took two steps in her direction, and she scrambled back, holding her hands up to ward him off.

  "Because of Tom, and Candy,” Ashley cried desperately. “It would be wrong."

  "They wouldn't have to know."

  * * * *

  Michael knew the moment the words were out that he'd said the wrong thing. He watched her eyes flare wide and then narrow. He saw the way her mouth trembled, and then firmed into a straight, unyielding line.

  Then her shoulders went back, her chin came up, and her voice turned to frost.

  "Is that what you told the women you lured into bed while you were married to me?” Her voice dropped another ten degrees. “That she doesn't have to know?"

  Michael knew from past experience there would be no reasoning with her now. He knew, yet he still muttered the same old denial. “There weren't any other women, Ash. Just the one, and we weren't—"

  "Don't! Just stop right there. We're divorced now, Michael. You don't have to say anything, and I certainly don't want to hear your explanations. I've heard them all, remember?” She swept sweaty hair from her face with a furious hand. “I don't intend to spend the remainder of this cruise beating a dead horse with you, so let's just drop it, okay?"

  Finally, the anger Michael had been hoping for. He welcomed it with open arms. “I can drop it ... if you can, Ashley. I don't think I was imagining that you want to make love every bit as much—"

  "Make love?” she asked incredulously. “At least call it what it is, Michael. It's sex with you. Pure animalistic sex. Nothing less, nothing more."

  "I don't remember you complaining."

  "You bastard."

  "Bitch."

  "I'm out of here. When you come to bed, don't even think about touching me."

  "Don't worry!” Michael shouted at her retreating form. “I've lost my appetite!” Which was a damned lie, and all she'd have to do is look at the bulge in his pants to know it.