Four Nights at Sea

by Demi Alex

  As if reading his mind, the captain shook his head. “You know where to find her?”

  “Yes I do.” Ford checked his watch. “I’m supposed to meet Charlie at the buffet in half an hour.”

  “Charlie, eh?” Georgiou laughed and his perceptive gaze narrowed on Ford. “You sure you want to do this?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  * * *

  Charlie speared a mushroom and brought it to her mouth, then pushed chicken around on her plate. Her appetite had disappeared. She stared at her picked-over lunch, hoping they’d announce the cabins were ready and she’d get a reprieve from the onslaught of people. She was on activity overload watching the passengers file in and out of the restaurant.

  “Hi, baby doll. Why you looking scared?”

  She looked up to find a real hottie, who could have been his school’s football star, wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a University of Miami T-shirt, grinning at her. “Who said I’m scared?”

  “Your big blue eyes,” he replied, friendly laughter joining his grin as he held out his hand. “Hi. I’m Quinn.”

  At ease with his friendly manner, she accepted his hand. “I’m Charlie.”

  Quinn waited for an invitation, which she freely gave by indicating the seat across the table, before he pulled out the chair opposite Charlie and made himself comfortable. She wondered why such an attractive and yummilicious jock needed a singles cruise to find love.

  “I can read the question in your eyes,” Quinn said, placing his muscled arms on the table and leaning forward. “I could ask you the same thing. Beneath that very reserved outfit, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

  Swallowing her shame at being so transparent, but unmoved by the reserved outfit comment, Charlie cleared her throat. “I don’t know what you’re referring to.”

  “Sure you don’t.” His broad smile reached his eyes as he leaned even closer. “What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

  Quinn wasn’t being rude. He’d simply asked what they’d both been thinking. Charlie glanced at her notebook and then back at the handsome jock. No time like the present to start, she thought. “I’m working. Writing a Valentine’s Day feature.”

  “Okay, I’ll bite.” Quinn leaned back in his seat, looking entertained with her explanation. He crossed his forearms over his broad chest and let his gaze travel over her conservative outfit. “What’s the topic?”

  “The perfect place to find love,” she said.

  “And you think Cupid carries a whip?”

  “I’m not talking about whips,” she objected, pushing the heel of her palm to her stomach to still the churning. “Some travelers may be here for the—um—leather goods, but I’m sure just as many are here to find love. I’m researching and writing about the perfect place to do that. I think a cruise fits the bill.”

  “Maybe,” he said slowly.

  “Why are you here, Quinn?” It was time to put on her reporter’s hat and turn the questions on him. “You don’t look like a guy who needs to be in an organized setting to find a date.”

  “I brought my date,” he said with no hesitation. “And if you want me to be frank, I’m here for the sex . . . sex tips. No reason to get lazy just because I’ve landed the man of my dreams.”

  Her lips curled up in a smile. She’d been way off base. She’d missed it.

  “It’s not you. It’s me. I seem to fly beneath most people’s gaydar,” Quinn teased. “It took me two weeks of ordering iced cappuccinos, double foam, and extra chocolate to get Luis to recognize my advances as more than friendly banter.”

  “Luis?”

  “My man,” Quinn explained. “Luis manages a café off campus where most graduate students hide from the noisy undergrads. I kept batting my eyelashes, but he never noticed. I tipped him so big, I practically spent a month’s rent the first week there. Knocked up against him at every opportunity, and all he did was apologize for being distracted and bumping into me.”

  “Did you try speaking to him?” Typical man. Acted out, but didn’t talk. Charlie shook her head in frustration. Men were so dense.

  “Of course I did. At first, I tried starting a conversation about a car he was restoring, but he sidestepped that. He treated me like any other customer and totally ignored the sparks exploding between us. He claims not to have realized that I was interested in him at all. Wasn’t even sure I was into men.” Quinn shook his head in disgust. “So you’re not alone in missing those vibes—because, baby doll, he missed them, and I was sending them out loud and clear, whereas with you, they may have been mixed in with other signals.”

  “How’d you get him to notice you?” Charlie asked, drawn into the love story. Nervousness melted away, and she found herself leaning towards the extremely good-looking man in order to hear every word.

  “It was a Friday night. I was the last one there, and I pretended to be absorbed in my studying rather than in Luis.”

  “That’s so cute,” Charlie said, feeling the warm fuzzies spread through her.

  “Not really. I sat there, sporting a very painful boner, watching the man I wanted sway to music as he mopped.” Quinn placed one fist over the other and pretended to mop to a sensual rhythm. “I finally got the nerve up to approach him, wrapped my arms around his hunky torso, and grinded up against his tight tush.”

  “Wow!” Tush. So cute. She brought her hands to her chest and sighed.

  “Yeah, wow. He decked me. Luis turned around and landed a right hook on my face. He thought I was a mugger or something.”

  “Holy cow,” Charlie said, unable to stifle her laughter. “That must have really sucked. You’re seeing stars for all the wrong reasons.”

  “It gets better,” Quinn said, holding up his hand. “The cut beneath my eye bled like crazy.”

  “Did you tell him to call 911?”

  “Fuck no.” He laughed and waved a big hand in front of his face. “I told him to kiss it and make it better.”

  Charlie placed her elbows on the table, interlaced her fingers, and rested her chin in them. “Go on.”

  “He started muttering some stuff in Spanish and stomped off to the back of the shop. I mean, I knew what I knew. He was definitely into men and all, so I knew I hadn’t misjudged the sparks.”

  “How’d you know he was gay? If he didn’t know about you, it makes sense that he wasn’t all that in tune with things.”

  “Nah, I knew.” Quinn puffed out his chest. “Maybe I was the surprise Midwestern jock, but Luis had a bad boy reputation. He was into sex. Men. Women. It didn’t matter.”

  “So he’s bi?”

  “He refuses to put a label on it. It makes sense. I’ve been with women. Loved being with them. But I prefer my man. However, there are a few women I wouldn’t turn away from,” Quinn explained. “It’s just that I want him. Love plays a major part in the physical relationship for me.”

  “That’s refreshing,” she admitted. “So tell me what happened with Luis.”

  “Like I was saying,” he drawled, winking and rolling his hand for emphasis. “After he’d come out about his sexuality and his father had disowned him, he turned into one of the biggest studs in Miami. Men, women, both . . . made no difference where he parked his dick. His nightly conquests fueled the gossip vine. Not only does he have the highest-grade equipment, he knows how to use it well.”

  She grinned in challenge.

  “Don’t doubt. I know what I’m talking about,” Quinn said. “You’ll agree when he shows up. Luis is hot.”

  “Fine. So he ran off into the kitchen. What’d you do?” The writer in her needed to reach the ending.

  “I sat up, with a lot of effort I may add.” Quinn reached for the hem of his shirt and she swiped at his forearm. “Shy, eh?”

  “No,” she replied. “I just don’t think you should strip in public.”

  Quinn chuckled. “You’re in for many surprises this weekend, Charlie.”

  “Whatever,” she said, dismissing the mischie
vous smile on his face. “Go on.”

  “I managed to pull my T-shirt over my head and used it to apply pressure to the cut. Mr. Rico Suave returned with a baggie of ice, but when he saw the blood soaking through my shirt he reached into his back pocket for his phone and insisted on paramedics. I was done waiting for him to notice me. I called on my high school grappling moves.” He demonstrated, stretching his legs under the table, and wrapping his feet around her ankles. “Within seconds, the man was writhing beneath me on the floor.”

  “I get it,” Charlie blurted, covering her face with her hands.

  “You’re blushing.”

  “Am not.”

  “Are so,” Quinn said, pulling at her wrists and settling her hands on the table between them. “Don’t worry. I won’t give you the details on how he finally got the message that I wanted him, but he did.”

  “I figured that much.” Heat flooded her body and she squirmed in her seat. “So you’re here to make sure there’s enough spice in your sex life.”

  “Oh, there’s enough spice,” Quinn bragged. “I want to add more and keep it that way. Luis is more experienced than I am. I want to explore and learn.”

  Charlie sighed. She’d envisioned a great love between Quinn and Luis, and now Quinn wanted to explore. “You want other partners?”

  “Not what I said,” Quinn insisted. “We’re open to sharing together. But that isn’t what this is about. We’re committed to each other and we’re planning to get married next year. I want to keep him so damn hard and ready to erupt at my touch or glance.”

  She fanned her hand in front of her face and lifted her hair off her neck.

  “You’re beet red. It won’t do,” he said, shaking his head. “On this cruise, you’re not only going to have to dress the part, which means heading to your cabin and getting out of that uptight outfit, but you’re going to have to loosen up if you want to get that info for your writing.” He wrapped his hand around her fingers, holding them still. “If you keep reacting like that, some Daddy Dom is going to throw you over his shoulder and lock you in his cabin for the whole cruise. Unless that’s what you—”

  “No.” Charlie shook her head. “I’m not getting carried off to some cabin. I’m not getting involved with anyone. I’m here in a professional capacity. That’s it.”

  “Sure, baby girl. That’s a lot of protest for one tiny question.”

  “It’s the truth,” she said, using her free hand to pluck a grape from the bowl and pop it in her mouth. She was a professional.

  “What’s his name? He hot?” Quinn pushed.

  “Miss Charlene?”

  Charlie looked over her shoulder. Ford was there with a distinguished looking uniformed man at his side. “I’m Charlene Sta—”

  “I know,” the older man interrupted. “May I please have a word with you, Charlene?”

  Ford stood silent, hands behind his back, glaring at Quinn.

  “Hello, Captain.” Quinn stood and leaned near her ear. “No last names in public spaces. Now, if you want, squeeze my hand and I’ll go.”

  She squeezed.

  “We’re in 6411. Leave me a message and I’ll come find you,” Quinn whispered. He gave her a quick peck on the cheek and said good-bye.

  A momentary flutter of comfort. Quinn and Luis were only a few doors down from her cabin. She was in 6418.

  As the captain sat in the seat Quinn had vacated, Ford slid next to her on the bench. He made himself comfortable, resting his thigh against hers.

  Chapter Five

  “I’d like to personally welcome you onboard, Charlene.” The captain wasted no time getting to the point. “I’m Captain Georgiou, and I believe you’ve met Keaton.”

  “I have.” Charlie nodded and glanced at Ford without turning towards him. He wished she would, because then she’d show she felt some personal comfort with him. But she didn’t. She held her own, keeping a respectable distance. “Thank you, sir. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Your publisher, Paul Lallas, is the son of a friend of mine. When he realized it was my ship one of his writers was sailing on, he extended the courtesy of informing me about the purpose of your trip.”

  Charlie straightened her back and immediately appeared inches taller. One fist balled on her thigh, the other hand snuck beneath the hair at her nape. “I assure you that I have no preconceived notions and do not intend to depict the cruise line in any specific light—especially not negatively.”

  “I’m not worried about censorship, Charlene. Nor am I concerned about the performance of my crew or the beauty and efficiency of my ship. You can write what you observe and truly believe.”

  She relaxed and stretched her fingers.

  “Paul explained you are researching a feature on the perfect place to find love.” It was a statement, but the captain paused and studied her face.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m honored that we made that list,” the captain added.

  “There is another reporter investigating the same subject in Paris,” Charlie offered. “It’s hard to top the city known for romance, but I figure a cruise is a good option for readers.”

  “Very true,” Georgiou agreed. “Paris is perfect for love, but so is the sea. When passengers come onboard, they leave worries and responsibilities behind. Mundane daily tasks are temporarily suspended. Every need is taken care of, and our guests can choose to rest, explore, or be pampered. Keaton and I have witnessed many romantic connections and reconnections.” He glanced at Ford for confirmation.

  “We certainly have. A cruise vacation is conducive to love and romance,” Ford agreed. “However, this sailing has unique qualities.”

  “I realize that,” Charlie said, finally turning to Ford, even as her gaze narrowed in warning. “I didn’t when I first booked my ticket.”

  Her fingers twirled around a lock of hair. Ford shook his head and grinned. She toyed so adorably with that silky blond mane when she got nervous.

  “Either way,” she said, her attention back on the captain, “I believe the information I gather will lend itself to the feature by its mere nature. I’m sure there will be romance and love.”

  “I’m in complete agreement,” the captain confirmed. “But I—we—have a few concerns. Being that this charter is of a more carnal nature, it produces situations that other sailings do not.”

  “I can handle it,” Charlie insisted.

  “It’s not about you handling the Lovers’ group. And if any such thought originally came to mind, please know that Paul insisted you are more than capable of taking care of anything thrown your way.” Georgiou gave Ford a cautionary look, urging him not to interrupt.

  “Thank you,” she breathed.

  Her soft breath sounded. The tense stance of her shoulders released and her hands turned palm up on her thighs. Disregarding how much like a lust-struck puppy it made him appear, Ford looked directly at her. He shifted to his left and enjoyed the brightness emanating from the woman. She was glowing. Her blue eyes sparkled. And a big, bold smile graced her gorgeous face.

  “My concern is with how you’ll be received by the other guests.” Georgiou raised an eyebrow, and his gaze turned laser sharp. “Kinksters are typically willing to share the intricacies and experiences of their love lives with people interested in learning about their lifestyle. However, Paul said you intend to keep this trip on a professional level.”

  “That’s true. Complete professionalism is my goal.”

  “I understand,” the captain said. “This means you do not plan to seek the same fulfillment other guests are looking for from the programs, and you do not intend to develop a personal relationship while on board.”

  “No,” she huffed. “My only intention is to write my feature.” Clearly annoyed with Georgiou’s line of questioning, those pretty shoulders tensed again and she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Perfect. This is very good. Your presence and intent works for both of us,” Georgiou said, nodding and smiling as if
he’d totally missed her displeasure. “Miss Charlene, Keaton thinks he’s found a way for the two of you to make your work much easier. He suggested working together on some level.”

  “I’ll escort you to the events you choose to attend,” Ford added.

  “What?” Her mouth dropped open and her pupils dilated. “Why?”

  “I’ve worked this particular group’s events for the past four years. I’m familiar with the programming, as well as romantic developments from other sailings.” Ford didn’t mention that he’d seen her first, and if anyone was going to touch her, it would be him.

  “I believe he will be a great source of information for you,” Georgiou concluded. “An insider, with knowledge of cruise ship romances, enriching your research material.”

  The man was a genius. Conniving and manipulating, but a genius. Ford leaned back in his seat. How could she refuse to spend time with him after the captain had pointed out he’d be the perfect resource for her feature?

  “Thank you for the offer, but I don’t need a chaperone.”

  The captain shook his head and held up his hand. “By allowing Keaton to accompany you, you will help him do his job. He needs to monitor the events, blend in with the guests, and report to me so we ensure the company guidelines are followed.”

  “We can achieve our objectives independently,” Charlie argued. “I don’t want, and won’t stand for, a chaperone.”

  “Definitely not a chaperone, my dear. Consider him an assistant of sorts.”

  Ford didn’t appreciate the assistant title, but if it got her to agree, he’d take it.

  Charlie quieted and seemed to consider the benefits the captain outlined, but her eyes had shuttered all emotion. It was impossible to read her, and Ford couldn’t determine which way she would decide.

  He had two options: Sit back and leave it to Georgiou to sway the stubborn woman and make her see the benefits of having a man at her side. Or he could ignore the captain’s suggestion and convince her on his own. While appreciating the captain’s effort and respecting his authority, Ford wasn’t about to chance leaving Charlie in the lion’s den alone. This woman being physically available to the group’s participants wasn’t an option.