She glanced at the clock. Five hours until the Captain's Farewell Dinner.
Her spirits lifted. Everyone attended that dinner, crew and passengers alike. Hunter had made sure even Daisy had a frilly velvet and lace outfit packed for the occasion and he and Jeannie had spent an agreeable time debating the wisdom of pabulum at a six-course formal dinner.
She took her drop-dead gorgeous black cocktail dress from the closet and hung it on the door.
"Tonight or never," she said out loud with a glance toward the sleeping baby. There might be nothing between her and Hunter, but that didn't mean she couldn't look smashing.
She'd take a leisurely bubble bath while Daisy slept and Hunter was out doing whatever it was he did. She'd shave her legs and cream her face and condition her hair until it shone like black satin. She'd spend ages on her makeup, doing up her eyes with all the tricks she hadn't had time for in far too long.
Then she'd admire herself in the mirror and wish with all her heart that she didn't feel so alone.
Both Jeannie and Daisy were dressed and ready by six-thirty. Daisy looked absolutely precious in her velvet and lace outfit with her soft cloud of blond fluff drifting over her velvet headband. Jeannie didn't look so bad herself.
6:40. No sign of Hunter.
Jeannie paced the drawing room. Four steps this way. Four steps that way. Daisy amused herself with her set of plastic keys.
6:45.
6:50.
"Damn you, Hunter," she muttered under her breath so Daisy wouldn't hear.
It just wasn't fair! Her skin was soft, she wasn't PMS-ing, and it was a good hair day. The odds of all three things occurring simultaneously again in her lifetime were right up there with being struck by a meteorite.
7:00.
Still no sign of Hunter. She picked up Daisy and the two of them paced the room.
"Were we supposed meet your daddy in the dining room?"
Daisy looked at her, eyes wide.
By 7:15 Jeannie was growing apprehensive. Maybe something had happened to him. Maybe his appendix had burst or he'd fallen overboard or--
Or maybe he was standing in the doorway looking exhausted and repentant.
"Hunter!" She ran to him, Daisy in tow. "I was so worried!"
His eyes widened slightly in surprise, the way Daisy's did when something new and wonderful caught her attention. There was a definite family resemblance. "My presentation hit a landmine," he said, putting down his briefcase and taking Daisy in his arms for a hug. "Sorry."
"You can't go to the Captain's Party?"
He shook his head. "I have an hour to regroup and come up with something new."
To her horror tears well up and she quickly turned away.
"No reason you should miss it," he said. "I'll watch Daisy."
"How can you watch Daisy when you have to work?"
"I've been doing it for eight months now, Jeannie. I'll manage."
She reached for the child. "No," she said, voice firm. "You're paying me so you can do your job. She'll come with me." By the time he had her fed, his hour would be up. "What about your dinner?"
He brushed that aside. "I'll worry about that later." He gestured toward his briefcase. "I tossed a bag of chips in there. That'll hold me."
She started toward the door, feeling sad, lonely, and generally miserable.
"Jeannie?"
She turned around. "Yes?"
"You look great."
This time the presentation was a success. The big guns congratulated him. Sarah offered her help on second phase planning. Everyone had something they wanted to add to the mix.
Maybe he was finally hitting his stride again after his long dry spell. He felt as if he was popping on all cylinders. The ideas were coming as fast as he could write them down--and they were good ideas, too, quick and sharp and bound to sell a million widgets to people who never even knew they needed one.
He fielded questions like a Hall of Famer and when it was finally his turn at bat he hit one right out of the park.
He couldn't wait to get back to the cabin and tell Jeannie. None of this would have been possible without her help. If she hadn't been there to care for Daisy, he would have gone 0-for-4 in a puff of baby powder.
It was nearly eight o'clock when he returned to the cabin. Jeannie and Daisy were nowhere to be found. He couldn't blame them. He'd told her to enjoy dinner and she was probably doing so. Still, he was disappointed.
Tired and disappointed.
He decided on a quick shower to revive himself. Fumbling in the amenities basket for some soap, he was startled to find a plastic cap, a sewing kit, and a condom discreetly wrapped and labeled. Talk about hospitality....
The shower over, he felt upbeat and optimistic and hungry.
It occurred to him that even though the Captain's Farewell Dinner was over, it wouldn't hurt to stroll around and check things out. And if he happened to bump into Jeannie and Daisy--well, it was a small world.
As it turned out, he didn't have far to look. He bumped into Jeannie and his little girl near the elevator. Daisy looked adorable in her blue velvet dress with the white collar and matching headband. Jeannie's sparkly black dress clung to her breasts and hips in an extremely provocative fashion. Not that it was his business, but he was glad Daisy was with her. With a dress like Jeannie was almost wearing, she probably needed an armed guard to keep the bozos away.
"Hunter!" Her surprise was evident. He wouldn't have minded if she looked happier to see him. "Did you finish your presentation?"
He grabbed Daisy and sat her on his shoulders. "Not only finished it, but managed to push it through."
"You cinched the deal?"
"Nailed it," he said with a wide grin.
Impulsively she threw her arms around him. "That's terrific! You worked so hard to make it happen."
He felt her touch everywhere--in places he'd forgotten about. She must have sensed his reaction because she backed away, patches of bright red staining her cheeks.
"I couldn't have done it without you, Jeannie. If you hadn't been here to watch Daisy I would've blown it just the way Grantham expected me to do."
"You would have found a way," she said, deeply pleased despite her words to the contrary.
"Still can't take a compliment, Ross?" He took her arm and headed for the elevator. "Come on. I need to find some food. Those chips were only an appetizer."
"Let's go back to the cabin."
"The cabin? There's nothing there. I'm ready to eat wallpaper, Jeannie. Let's--"
"The cabin," she repeated.
"I don't know how you managed this," he said to Jeannie as the cabin steward wheeled in a cart piled high with food. It might not be seduction but it wasn't a bad second choice.
"All it took was a little persistence," she said, beaming at him from her perch on the sofa. "But you should know that, Hunter. You conjured up some wonderful breakfasts for us." Her strappy sandals rested on the floor. Her stockinged feet were tucked beneath her. Not pantyhose, he thought. She was too sexy for pantyhose.
"Is there anything else I can get for you?" the cabin steward asked.
Hunter looked at Jeannie and felt a rush of heat. "We're fine," he said. If being on fire was fine....
He disappeared to put Daisy down for the night.
Daisy expressed her disapproval loudly when he tried to put her sleeper on backwards.
"Sorry," he mumbled, feeling like a jerk. "My mind's somewhere else tonight, Daisy."
He thought of Jeannie in her sexy black dress and a dark fire seemed to gather heat inside his body. He brushed Daisy's hair back with his hand then kissed her on top of her sweet-smelling head.
"Let's make a deal, Daisy," he said, as she smiled up at him. "You sleep through the night tonight and I'll see to it you have ice cream tomorrow."
"Daah," she said, offering up her best toothless smile.
"That's yes in Russian," he said. "I'm going to hold you to it."
He tucked her i
n, shut off the light, and then went back into the drawing room. Jeannie had switched on the cabin sound-system and soft music gentled the air. She was curled up on the sofa, that lethal black dress sliding up around her thighs. She held a flute of champagne between her elegant fingers and he reached for his own glass on the end table. Instead of seeming cramped and tiny, the drawing room now seemed intimate.
"To your mission accomplished," she said.
He raised his own glass in salute.
Their eyes locked. Her hand shook as she brought the glass to her mouth. That shimmering sense of destiny she'd felt the first moment she saw him was all around her.
"Eat," she said. "The food's wonderful."
"No," he said, in a measured voice. "You are."
She placed her glass down on the end table. A few golden droplets spilled over the lip and onto the wood. Neither noticed. She felt as if she were standing in the eye of a storm with the wild winds all around her.
The only safe haven was in his arms.
He pushed back his chair and stood up.
She waited, scarcely breathing, as he crossed the room. The world had narrowed down to this moment.
"Let's dance," he said.
She tilted her head. An old Johnny Mathis tune drifted toward her. The song was older than either of them. Its message was older than time.
She took his head then rose to her feet. The pressure of his hand against the small of her back was incendiary. The way she fit against him was intoxicating.
The fact that they had found each other was nothing short of miraculous.
Her breasts were soft against his chest. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his. With her forehead resting against his shoulder, he was ten feet tall.
Had music ever sounded as sweet?
Had dancing ever held such erotic promise?
Johnny Mathis segued into early Frank Sinatra. It didn't matter who was singing. He could only hear the way his blood pulsed through his veins.
He drew her closer to him. She was warm and pliant in his arms.
And he was ready.
"Jeannie."
His voice reached into her heart. She raised her eyes.
"I'm going to kiss you, Jeannie."
"Of course you are." That kiss had been between them for days now. For a lifetime.
His hand moved from her shoulder, to the side of her neck, then trailed upward. He cupped her chin, running his thumb lightly across the line of her jaw. She had a fierce, primitive urge to draw his finger into her mouth and run her tongue across the sensitive ridge of flesh at his fingertip.
Slowly he lowered his head, bringing his mouth closer, closer to hers, until their lips met. He traced their fullness with his tongue, and then swept along her teeth before entering her mouth. She gasped--it had been so long and the invasion was so hot, so sweet, the hunger so deep that it took her to a place she'd all but forgotten.
Teasing.
Tempting.
The kiss deepened until they were both left shaken and aching for more.
"The couch," said Jeannie, her fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.
"Too small," he said, cupping her breasts. "Your room."
"Can't." She bared his chest then pressed her lips against his skin. "Daisy."
She started to suggest his room when he dropped to his knees in front of her. Involuntarily she stepped back, but he caught her behind the knees and drew her closer and closer until the heat of his breath burned against the tops of her thighs.
His hands were large and strong, his fingers questing. Inch by devastating inch his fingers moved their way under her skirt, sliding up the length of her stockings until he found the snaps of her black lace garter belt.
His laugh was low, thrilling.
She felt as if the world was spinning wildly on its axis and she gripped his shoulders in a desperate attempt to maintain her balance against this sensual onslaught. Her skirt was a froth of lace around her hips as his mouth found the soft skin of her thighs above the black silk stockings. She reached down to help him unsnap the garters but he caught her hand and held it fast.
"No," he said, his voice a delicious rumble. "Keep it on."
"But--"
Words died. He found her center with his mouth, his lips hot and wet against the fragile silk of her panties. She heard herself cry out when the fabric tore in his hands, that last barrier between them falling away as if it had never existed.
"Not yet," he whispered against her skin. "Not this way."
He rose to his feet and in the blink of an eye the rest of their clothing fell away from them and he reached for the packet he'd found near the tub earlier that evening.
He found himself staggered by her perfection. The round breasts with the taut, rosy peaks...the inward curve of her waist...the breathtaking outward flair of her hips. She swayed gently on her feet and he pulled her up against him, lifting her until their eyes met. She gripped his shoulders, her nails teasing his skin. The question was in his eyes; the answer was in her soft sigh, the way she molded herself against him.
He leaned back against the wall, bracing his feet for balance. Slowly he lowered her until her body grazed his, sending shock waves of violent sensation tearing through his body. He wanted to bury himself in her but there was still a scrap of reason left and he hesitated, afraid he might hurt her with the intensity of his desire.
And then she smiled at him, a smile of infinite possibilities, and her eyes fluttered closed as she rocked slowly in his arms. She opened for him completely, wet and hot and ready, and his control finally snapped.
She welcomed him. She surrounded him. The rippling muscles of her sweet body sent out wave after wave of pure sensation that took him to someplace he'd never been before.
When it was over, seconds or hours or eons later, she fell limp in his arms, her heart thundering against him. His knees didn't feel any too steady.
With Jeannie still in his arms, he headed for his bedroom. "Fair warning," he said. "There's barely room enough in there for one person."
"Wonderful," Jeannie murmured, touching her tongue to his nipple.
He pushed open the door with his foot then carried her into the room.
They tumbled together to the bed.
"Oh," said Jeannie, finding herself between a wall and a built-in nightstand. "This is a small room."
With a lusty growl, he was on the bed next to her--
Then off again.
"Hunter!" A wild giggle escaped her lips. She leaned over the edge of the bed and looked down at him. "Did you hurt yourself?"
He was delayed but not deterred. Laughing, he climbed back into bed.
"This isn't going to be easy," he said as they tried to find a position.
"Most wonderful things aren't."
"I know," he said. "And you were wonderful before."
She ducked her head, torn between elation and a fierce rush of desire that all but stole her breath away. "I wish I were double-jointed."
He grinned as he shifted position. "So do I."
After some struggle, they hit upon a workable combination.
"You're a magician," she said as he gathered her in his arms.
"I'm determined."
They lay down together.
"I don't know about you," said Jeannie, "but I can't move."
"You're right," he said. "Neither can I."
He considered the situation then suggested an alternative.
"I don't know," said Jeannie, beginning to laugh. "It doesn't happen this way in the movies."
"You get one hundred takes in the movies." He shifted position. "Who knows what troubles Michelle Pfeiffer and Mel Gibson have on their own time."
She cupped his face in her hands. "Right now I wouldn't trade places with them for anything in this world."
"Even for a king-size bed?"
"Even for a king-size bed."
Inspiration is where you found it and that night Hunter and Jeannie were b
oth inspired.
Chapter 6
There were no words for what happened between them that night.
At times they were awkward. At other times, graceful.
They improvised and invented and always there was pleasure.
And even when the last violent rush of passion had been spent, leaving them both exhausted and content, they lay together, still joined, hearts beating together, their breath mingling in the charged air.
"Are you okay?" he asked, his voice rumbling beneath her ear.
"Wonderful." Her cheek scraped deliciously against the thick mat of hair on his chest.
"I didn't--?"
"No," she said, kissing the tip of his chin. "You didn't."
"You felt so good, so tight." He stroked the inside of her thigh. "I couldn't hold back."
"I don't want you to hold back," she said fiercely. "I want--" She stopped, listening. "Daisy's crying."
"Impossible. My girl has perfect timing. She'd never cry at a crucial moment like this."
She touched a finger to his lips. "Listen."
Daisy's wail grew louder.
With a rueful laugh Hunter eased himself away from Jeannie, then climbed out of bed.
"Wait until we're back home," he said, pulling on his pants. "I'm going to show you a night of real romance, not something out of a Marx Brothers movie."
She smiled and lay back against the pillow, drinking in the smell of him...of them.
How could he possibly know that she didn't need flowers or candlelight or soft music to spell romance?
A man beside you in the dark heart of the night. A baby who needed you. That painful, hopeful feeling pushing against the boundaries that had been set by fate and circumstance. All the wonders that came with real life.
It simply didn't get any better than this.
Hunter tried everything he could think of to quell Daisy's tears but failed miserably. She wasn't wet or hungry or coming down with a fever.
"Sorry, Daise," he said, as he scooped her up from the crib and held her against his bare chest. "I can't call for a cab, but this is the next best thing." He carried her, still crying, from the room and walked her from one side of the tiny drawing room to the other. Her cries were pitiful and his chest was quickly damp with her tears.
Daddy's Girl (Bachelor Fathers) Page 8