“One thread?”
“Pretty boring, huh?” she asked and rolled her eyes.
“Not at all.”
She caught a sparkle several feet away. A blonde stared at her and Tristan. Her brain cranked into gear. Boobalicious.
Laney considered asking about the woman who seemed so interested in him, but Tristan’s stare had drifted over her shoulder. “What are you looking at?” Laney asked.
“Is your friend married? I thought I saw a ring.”
“Engaged, why?” Laney turned around. “Oh my God.”
Laney jumped off her stool, leaving Tristan to the white wolf across the bar. On the dance floor, she pried Nikki’s lips away from a young slender man wearing a very tight white tee-shirt.
“Nikki, what are you doing?” she asked, dragging her assistant away from the guy.
“He said he wanted to kiss me,” she slurred as liquid spilled from a green plastic cup in her hand.
“Nikki, where did you get that drink?” Tristan’s voice over her shoulder startled her. “You left a cup at the bar.”
“He gave it to me.” Nikki waved.
Tee-shirt Guy tromped toward them. Ignoring the anger on his face, Laney put her hand out to keep him at a distance. “Hey, she’s engaged. Go away.”
“Did you put something in her drink?” Tristan asked with a menacing sneer.
Tee-shirt Guy’s eyes grew wide gauging him, his height, and his anger. The guy then viciously slapped the cup from Nikki’s grasp, splashing the entire drink across Laney’s chest before running o. “Ugh!”
“Shit.” Tristan caught Nikki’s body as she went limp. “I think he drugged her, Laney.”
Nikki dug her fingernails into Laney’s arm and belched. “I’m going to be sick.”
Oh, great!
The sour odor of vomit lingered on Laney’s top as she and Tristan held Nikki by the waist. They steered her to their cabins’ deck carefully shifting her from side to side. They were a tangled trio as Laney retrieved her key card from her wristlet. The door opened in a whoosh allowing them all to spill inside.
“She needs water,” Laney cried out. And I need a hose. “There’s some in the kitchen area.”
Inside the powder room near the main cabin door, Laney set her assistant in front of the toilet. “Nikki, wake up!”
“Here!” Tristan thrust a bottle at her chest, the plastic sighing when he released it.
Nikki’s fingers fumbled for the water and her mouth grasped on. After a deep gulp, she vomited again.
“Should we call the ship’s doctor?” Laney felt embarrassed to be useless in a medical emergency.
“I... I don’t know.” Tristan ran both hands through his hair, looking out of his depth, too. “Maybe that guy didn’t know what he was doing and didn’t give her enough to hurt her.”
A third retching explosion brought Nikki’s eyes into focus.
“Sweetie, keep drinking water,” Laney whispered. “We think that guy put something in your drink.”
Nikki sipped at the bottle like a baby, but with every gulp, more liquid came up. She took several deep breaths then mumbled, “I’m fine, get out of here.”
Laney stood, and Tristan’s arms wound around her waist, steadying her. “Okay, I’ll be right outside,” she said, edging the door closed.
Only then did she realize she’d been shaking.
“Are you okay?” Tristan was so close they were sharing oxygen molecules.
“Yeah, I just... I’m processing what happened.”
“She seems more aware now. I think she threw it all up before it hurt her.”
“Yeah.” Laney looked down, her chiffon top had gone all sheer thanks to the big wet spot in the center.
Tristan laughed. “You look good in green.”
“I have to change.” She fisted her bunched-up skirt to straighten the thing out.
“Do you want me to leave?”
“No,” Laney blurted, but bit her lip at the hasty desperate reply.
“I’ll go outside and give you some privacy.” As Tristan opened the balcony door and stepped out, the light from the living room reflected across his wide shoulders. His strong hands gripped the railing. They’d been on her, so she knew their power. Laney felt protected and comforted enough to tend to herself.
Between the barf and whatever the hell Nikki had been drinking on the dance floor, Laney’s shirt got soaked to the skin. Her bedroom had access to the balcony, but seeing Tristan facing the ocean, she lifted the top away and snapped off her bra. Knowing that vomit travels, she lost the skirt, too.
Standing there in a just a thong, she ran her fingers through her hair. It would be weird, not to mention rude, to take a shower while Tristan waited patiently on the verandah. She settled for a searing hot washcloth in her bathroom and scrubbed her skin until she felt clean and no longer sticky. She ran a second cloth up her neck and swabbed her bare breasts. Her coconut lime lotion freshened her skin and made her smell nice again.
Back in her bedroom, she stopped to check herself out in the full-length mirror next to the wardrobe. Aching to be touched, she ran her hands up and down her torso and then cupped her bare breasts. She was proud of her body, but Laney wondered if Jonathan would be satisfied with what he would see and feel. If she went through with her plan and confessed her secret crush. Who would she be without that driving need, though?
Obsessions alone are addictive.
Shaking those thoughts away, she turned in the direction of the light now streaming into the room. A sharp stabbing pain traveled behind her eyes and down the back of her skull. A pair of startled golden eyes watched her and her near-naked body through the clear glass door.
Tristan’s chest heaved and his mouth gaped wide open. But he didn’t move, which glued Laney’s feet to the floor. It’s more afraid of you... Her grandmother’s words about creepy-crawlies echoed in her ear.
She spun away from Tristan’s salivating glance and jumped behind the armoire’s open door. Like Faye Dunaway trashing her daughter’s closet in Mommy Dearest, Laney tore through one of her bags for something to put on.
The balcony door creaking open and powerful footsteps racing through the living room flushed Laney with more embarrassment. The faux pas had been hers for not lowering the shade on the door. He couldn’t have known as he strolled along the length of the balcony, she’d treat him to a peep show.
After sliding on a thin cotton dress, she thrust herself in his path. “I’m sorry about that.”
“Shit, no. I’m sorry.” Tristan avoided her eyes. “I wasn’t watching you. I mean, I didn’t mean to watch you.”
“Tristan, it’s okay.” She reached out to touch his hands, but pulled back. “I should have lowered the shade. I’m sorry.”
His gaze swept over her body and every inch scorched to life. “Are you really sorry?”
She looked down. Her erect nipples, free and loose under the flimsy dress, pressed through the fabric. “Maybe not that sorry.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tristan
Nikki stumbling out of the bathroom dropped Tristan back a step. Shit, he’d forgotten she was there. Laney gave him a smirk while following her little friend. “Let me...go see how she is.”
“I’ll help you.” He turned on his rescue mode and gripped the tiny woman by the waist. “Which bedroom is hers?”
“Over here.” Laney pointed to a room on the left.
He eased Nikki down on her made-up bed and blazed with heat when Laney brushed against him to drag a blanket across her assistant’s shoulders.
Stroking Nikki’s forehead, Laney whispered to him, “Do you think she’ll be all right?”
“I think so,” Tristan whispered back.
Out in the living room, Laney’s butt fell into a chair. “It’s my fault what happened at the bar. I dragged her out there to spy on Jonathan.”
Tristan’s heart rate spiked. “Well, like I said, there’s still time.”
“If you hear
a guy begging to be untied...” She snorted a laugh pointing to the other bedroom.
Crap, such a wrong thing for her to say. The tension in the room turned unbearable. Now he was turned the hell on with the image in his head of her tying him up. Imagining ropes against his skin, and the vamp of her shoe on his back made him lose his mind.
“It makes sense to me now why I’ve not seen him since we got here,” Laney said, glancing out at the water. “Now that I know this is a cruise for—”
“Cruise for what?” Tristan snapped, every cell in his body stiffening.
Laney planted a gaze of steady scrutiny at him. When her jaw slacked open, like it all clicked for her, his stomach twisted. No! He didn’t want her repulsed by him. Every wretched thought he had about himself and the things he did on this cruise came crashing to the surface.
“Are you?” she whispered.
Shit. He loved how she’d been looking at him, like she’d seen the real Tristan. That’s who he’d been with her even though he was soul-searchingly confused the last few days. The moment he got on this cruise, he should have turned into someone else.
He could lie, but anyone could out him with the truth. He was too well known. Tris the sex god, the alpha, had a wicked reputation.
“Yes, Laney. I’m here for the same reason Jonathan is.” He waited for the glare of disgust that would break him into pieces. Seeing this world through her innocent eyes, he felt dirty. “Say something.”
Laney
“YOU DON’T HAVE TO BE here, Tristan.” Laney had been keeping a hungry man from his food source. She expected him to bolt for real action. Drunk girl pity kisses were laughable compared to lustful sex acts behind devil horns. “You paid money for—”
“What if I don’t want to leave right now?” he asked, his eyes warm and sincere. “I’m perfectly content to be here with you.”
Perfectly content. Oh, talk dirty to me, why don’t you.
Shrugging, she replied, “Okay. Do you want to have a drink? I have beer in my fridge.” She stood and went to the kitchenette. “I like a cold beer at night sometimes, so I grabbed a 6-pack in the sundry shop. We could drink them on the patio.”
“I’ll meet you out there,” he said and smoothly disappeared.
A feat, considering how tall he was.
Outside, Tristan’s body darted between the woven loveseat and two padded sling chairs facing the moon. Its pearly cratered surface cast a shimmering reflection to the tip of the horizon.
Before joining him, Laney checked on Nikki, who snored away. Her skin felt cool and her breathing sounded easy. Thank God, Tristan had been there.
From the mini-fridge, she grabbed two beers and slid off the caps using an opener sitting on top of a bowed-out chest. Above, a mirror spooked her with an unexpected catch of her image. Her cheeks looked flushed again because every second with Tristan sent her blood rushing through her veins.
Slow and measured, she strolled out to the balcony. “Here.” She handed him one of the bottles and sat on the loveseat while Tristan, sitting on the padded chair, turned it on an angle to watch the water. She felt comfortable with his seating choice only because she wasn’t sure she could handle touching him again.
“This is my favorite beer, by the way.” Tristan softly clinked the bottle’s long neck against hers.
“Mine, too.” She smiled and took a refreshing sip waiting for the elephant in the room to start crapping all over the place.
A strange silence wedged itself between them for a few painful moments. Tristan was on this cruise to have sex with strangers, yet he sat here looking quite happy to share a beer with her. Had she entered the friend zone?
“How long have you been at your company?” he asked, peeling back his label, suggesting he wanted to keep the conversation light and far, far away from his earlier admission.
She played by his rules. And sure as shit didn’t know what the hell to ask, or if she even wanted any details. “My whole career,” she answered, realizing how nice it was for him to take an interest in her life. In the middle of a freaking porno. But her job was her life. Had he figured her out so quickly? Something told her far away from this sex-land, Tristan’s true passions were his hotel. And she thought she needed fake eyelashes to impress him. “I interned for Westmore Designs and Brock Westmore scooped me right up.”
“To work one place your whole career isn’t the badge of honor it once was,” Tristan said poignantly.
She sipped her beer then felt she could go deeper with him. He would understand her work frustrations. “I just don’t get why he’s cutting all these corners.”
“It’s not just him.” Tristan adjusted his chair to face her. “Everyone’s looking to keep expenses down.”
“But we do so well.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m just too sneaky for my own good.”
Tristan’s dark eyebrows arched. “Sneaky?”
“I have a very strong presence in our mills. I know what goes on there. I don’t just design the fabrics, I choose the materials. Source them. Sometimes I have them made specifically for me. That costs money. For the last few special orders, Brock went to a company in China.”
“You sound like you have a valid reason to move on.”
She leaned in. “Like I said the other night, if I get better at writing my own design software, then maybe I don’t have to work for someone else. I can possibly go into business for myself. You know, freelance.”
“That sounds like a smart idea.” He nodded like she’d convinced him of her abilities.
Their eyes locked and all the unsaid words popped out like little bubbles above his head. When Tristan blushed, she said, “I would just need a boatload of start-up cash.” She wiped her mouth noticing Tristan still watched her intently.
An owner of The Sterling would have a boatload of cash. Not for swindling, though. Tristan Hart had a domineering presence. The intoxicating aura coming from him floated all around her. He consumed the space with so much energy, yet his power was quiet.
This Adonis, this pillar of beauty was elegant and polished. A real contrast with the visuals forming in her mind of devils misbehaving behind closed doors. Or fire and brimstone.
Nervous about what to say next, Laney brought the bottle to her lips and launched into her burning sulfuric question. “So, I told you my story why I’m here. Do you want to tell me why you’re on a cruise like Jonathan?”
After a few beats and with no emotion in his voice, he said, “I come every year.”
“But why?” She hated to be intrusive, but... “You’re hardly a man who needs easy prey.”
Tristan laughed and cast his gaze across the water again. “My brother Luke is larger than life. Don’t ever get me confused with him. He does stuff like this all the time.”
“Just goes from woman to woman?”
He nodded. “It’s fun for a week. Here, I get the spotlight. Take what I need and go home. Back to my boring life.”
He thought he was boring. Ha!
“Is it just about sex? What about a relationship? What about love?” The way their eyes met, she’d muddied up who she was speaking about. To keep the focus off Tristan, she added, “I’m sure your brother hasn’t banged everyone in Manhattan.”
He glared at her like he’d found the very last one.
The lone survivor.
Tristan rubbed his chin. “The thing is, even if I meet someone, there’s always this damn cruise. Work is so busy. You know the city is crazy. The year flies by. When the weather turns cold, and I’d like to hunker down with someone for the winter, I get the reminder this thing is coming up.”
“Don’t book it.” She shrugged.
“I usually lock up my reservation before I leave the current cruise.” He looked down, a hint of a blush spreading across his bold cheekbones.
“Are there limited spaces?” she asked.
“The organizer keeps track. Doesn’t want the crowd getting too big. There were problems when this was a theme cruise. T
oo many complaints. Too many people booking it, not realizing what goes on here.” He pinched his dark stylish trousers. “The cruise company canceled it as an official theme a few years back.”
“So, someone just picked a yearly cruise and you all board incognito?”
He smiled. “The first time, I had no idea what to expect. But I like the secretive nature.”
She licked her lips. “And have you ever found someone not part of your group and—”
“Never,” he answered quickly. “Well...”
His brother Luke didn’t do commitments because there was a steady pool of availability. Tristan didn’t do commitments because this cruise loomed on the horizon every year.
Which meant before Tristan stepped back onto the New York dock, he’d have his free-love boat cabin reserved for next year. Got it.
“Do you live in Manhattan?” she asked to change the subject.
“Yeah, in the hotel. You?”
“Yep.”
When he didn’t ask where in the city she lived, she felt a touch crushed. But he wasn’t trying to date her. Her mission to get with Jonathan became all the more valid in her mind. She’d gotten a peek behind the veil of a man who came on a cruise once a year for a fling to vent his sexual frustrations.
Tristan looked up and then around. “You know, when we sail back into New York Harbor, the lights under the Verrazano Bridge are pretty amazing.”
She nodded, glad the subject stayed PG. “I saw the bridge in the afternoon when we left. First time. For me.”
His eyes hit the ground. Nope, not his first time. For anything. His sports jacket tipped her off. He knew it would still be chilly. Because...he came here every year. “At night the lights are much cooler.”
“Note to self, be out here on the balcony to watch it.” She air-checked with her right index finger.
He’d been in the middle of taking a sip, but shook his head. “Mmmm. No.” He pointed to the roof which was technically the balcony for the suite above. “You want to be on the top deck. Get the full panoramic view. It’s a little hokey, but—”
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