by Roz Lee
“You’re welcome. I can’t say that I understand what goes on between you two, but I also know it’s none of my business.”
She sat on the end of the bed, and Drew sat in the small desk chair facing her. “Drew, you have to know I love you. But, what I feel for you isn’t enough.” She shook her head and diverted her eyes from his. A small laugh escaped her. Hadn’t Sean said the same thing, that sometimes love wasn’t enough?
“What?” Drew asked.
“Nothing. I was just thinking about something Sean said. For once he was right. He just applied his logic to the wrong people.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.”
“I know.” She waved away the thought. “It doesn’t matter. Anyway, I thought you were alright with this.”
“I am. Really, I am. I’m just not sure Sean can live up to your expectations. He can be a real hard-ass when he wants to be.”
“No one knows that better than me. After I pulled rank with him over Hunter, I’m not sure he’ll want anything to do with me ever again.”
“If he breaks your heart tonight, I’m still here for you.”
She reached across and took his hand, held it firmly in hers. “I know you want to be, Drew, but there’s someone else for you. You have to let me go.” So you can move on. He wasn’t ready to hear that yet, so she kept it to herself.
“I’ll be there tonight, in case you need me.”
She released his hand and stood. “Thank you, but I’ll be okay, no matter what happens.”
Drew recognized his dismissal and stood. He moved to the door. She followed and made no protest when he pulled her close and kissed her. It wasn’t a goodbye kiss, but she felt him distance himself from their connection. It was a small crack in the wall of his denial. Perhaps he’d felt it too when he broke the kiss and lifted one hand to her face. He stroked her cheek with the back of his fingers as he gazed into her eyes.
“Until tonight.”
“Until tonight.”
She closed the door behind him, turned her back to the door, and let the tears fall. How could something so right hurt so damned bad?
The clock hands moved as slow as cold molasses. Her cabin steward delivered a costume she supposed one of her men had arranged earlier in the week. She unzipped the bag and stared. A long column of black stared back at her. The one shoulder creation was covered in tiny glass beads that found every bit of light in the room, bent and distilled it into millions of light crystals. If she could get into it, the dress would shimmer like the stars in the heavens with every move she made.
It was gorgeous, and terrifying at the same time. She’d never worn anything so fabulous, wasn’t sure she should tonight. It hardly seemed like proper attire for the type of negotiations she had in mind. This looked like foreplay for mattress negotiations.
Celeste considered calling wardrobe and requesting a different costume, but couldn’t bring herself to make the call. At least not until she’d tried the dress on. Every woman dreamed of wearing something like this, just once.
She dropped her sarong and slid the dress off the hanger. It weighed a ton, which only added to her excitement at trying it on. She slipped it over her head, made a few adjustments, and held her breath as she closed the zipper that went from her left hip to below her breast.
She’d prepared herself for disappointment. The dress was a fantasy, and everyone knew, fantasies rarely lived up to reality. So, when she turned to the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, she blinked twice, then closed her gaping mouth. The dress clung to every curve like black ice on a mountain road. The front fell in a smooth line from her right shoulder, to skim the top of her left breast. From there, it clung to her mid-section and shimmered all the way to the floor. Celeste turned slightly to see the back, which was open and draped at the small of her back.
Turning, she noticed the slit on the right side that went almost to her hip. It would part with every step she took. The dress was daring and screamed, sin with me, but she couldn’t, wouldn’t, pass up the opportunity to wear it. If Sean didn’t accede to her demands while she was wearing this, then he wasn’t a human male.
Celeste smiled and tried on the stiletto sandals she’d found in the bottom of the bag.
* * * * *
Sean hated tuxedos almost as much as he hated ships. He’d managed to get through the previous costume balls without donning any ridiculous outfits. Mostly, he’d stayed in Ryan’s stateroom and monitored the debauchery from his brother’s desk, but tonight was different. Celeste was going to announce her decision, one he was certain he already knew, and he was going to man-up and be there. For her, not for Drew. If the bastard didn’t have the balls to marry the woman, he’d make fish food out of him before the night was over.
It had taken him most of the last day and a half to get past his anger at her over the whole Hunter—PEN—Vernon Cannon thing. In the past, she’d never stood up to him that way. It was just another example of how she’d changed in the last five years. Explaining her decision to Ryan hadn’t been easy either, but the FBI had sworn to keep better tabs on Cannon from now on, and as much as he hated to make that concession, it was the right thing to do. If he’d been in her shoes, he would have made the same decision.
He had to admit, her new-found confidence was growing on him.
He fumbled with the bow tie and finally, with an exasperated, “Fuck it,” left it hanging and flicked open the top button on his shirt. If anyone said anything about it, he’d cram the fucking thing down their throat. Sean stuffed his arms in the coat sleeves and shrugged it into place on his shoulders. For a brief moment, he considered not going, but as he stepped from his bedroom to the living room, Drew did the same, and Sean knew he had to be there to wish them the best. Celeste deserved that much.
“What happened to your tie?”
Sean reined in his baser impulse and ignored the jab. “Let’s go.”
The sooner they got this over with, the better.
Costumed revelers crowded the Muses dance floor, and every table was occupied, except one. Sean followed Drew through the crowd like a man heading to the gallows. More than a few feminine heads turned to watch their progress, but neither one of them noticed. A waitress appeared on cue. Drew ordered wine by name and vintage. Sean shook his head at what he considered a useless skill and ordered an orange juice, “Florida please, something not too old, if you have it.”
“Cute. You’re an ass, Sean.”
“Thank you.”
He was there for Celeste, and only Celeste. That didn’t mean he had to make nice with Drew. The waitress returned with their drinks, winked at Sean as she placed his juice on the table.
“Florida, fresh squeezed today, Mr. Callahan.”
“Thank you.” He should have remembered her name, but she didn’t seem to take offense.
“Kiki,” she supplied.
Sean resisted the urge to say, “Well, of course you are,” instead, he complimented her name and decided she had no idea why he found it so amusing.
When they were alone, Drew said, “It’s not her fault her parents are idiots.”
“No. You’re right. In her case, I hope there’s some truth to the theory that your name shapes you.”
“You think she might be bisexual?”
“Don’t know. Wouldn’t mind finding out though.”
“You’re an ass, and a pig, Sean.”
“True.”
Sean couldn’t imagine why Drew had his dick twisted over Sean’s interest in Kiki’s sexual orientation. There’d been a time when they both would have made a real attempt to find out whether someone named Kiki went both ways, or not. The thought vaporized as Celeste stepped into the room.
She looked like sin on a mission. That her mission didn’t include him made him physically ill. His heart raced like a thoroughbred on steroids, and then it stopped cold as she made her way across the room. The dress he’d chosen for her days ago, when he was certain she would choose him
, skimmed her curves like a moonless midnight sky over the landscape. He didn’t need moonlight, any light, to navigate those curves. His hands, his body, knew them intimately.
His brain fired alarm signals like a warning barrage. “She’s Drew’s now,” it said. He knew it, understood it intellectually, but his body refused to understand. His cock stood at full mast and he made no attempt to disguise it. He’d be damned if he’d hide his desire for her, not now, not ever. Drew would fucking have to live with it.
Heads turned. Conversations stalled as Celeste wove like a column of night through the crowd. Eventually, the band stopped playing, as if they knew something interesting was going on, something they didn’t want to miss. His head swam. He reverted to his training, forcing air into his lungs, willing his heart to pump oxygen to his brain. He needed his wits to get out of this encounter alive. Unscathed was out of the question. Alive was the best he could hope for.
Getting to Muses was the easy part. Celeste stood in the doorway allowing her eyes to adjust. Except for the spotlighted dance floor, the room was all shadows, illuminated by low voltage floor lighting, and the flickers of flameless candles. Her eyes found Drew first. He rose from his chair, and her heart skipped a beat. A tiny nod of his head drew her eyes to the man on the opposite side of the table. Sean uncoiled from his chair like a panther stretching from a long nap.
There they were. Her men. They were easily the most handsome men on the ship, and they were hers. At least for tonight. She’d never seen Sean in formal wear. Her gaze swept over him, taking in his lethal sexuality. It was a wonder women weren’t throwing themselves at him tonight. Perhaps it was the closed expression on his face that kept them away. She’d seen that look before. It was the one he adopted on a mission, when he concentrated every fiber of his being on staying alive. Everything else about him screamed raw sex appeal. Gone was the baby James Bond she and Drew used to tease him about. She felt a pang of remorse for letting him stew. Perhaps he’d suffered enough.
Celeste kept her eyes fixed on Drew as she skirted the dance floor, weaving between tables filled with costumed passengers. If she made eye contact with Sean, she knew she’d never have the courage to carry out her plan. Surprise was the only thing she had going for her. As long as Sean didn’t know her intentions, her plan would work. If he knew, he’d drag her out of here, and she’d never get him to listen to her, and she wasn’t going to be his or anyone’s doormat.
Drew’s lips curved into an appreciative smile, but his eyes told her he accepted her decision. His support, his love, gave her the courage to put one foot in front of the other.
Sean hardened his mask as Celeste stopped in front of him, nodded to Drew, then turned her magnificent eyes on him, and only him. Here it was, the moment he’d dreaded, the moment she would tell him she’d made her choice. He did his best not to let his inner turmoil show. He owed her that much. He’d make nice, even if it killed him, then leave the two of them alone. Forever.
Breathe. In. Out. Pump. Blood. Breathe. In. Out. He repeated the mantra in his head, and thanks to his training, his body continued to function, though he’d ceased to live. Dead man walking. He knew it was possible now. It would be his life from this moment on. Life without Celeste. He was a survivor. He could survive this too, somehow. Breathe. In. Out. Pump. Blood. Breathe. In. Out.
Sean clenched his fists at his sides, as prepared as he was ever going to get for the bullet aimed at his heart. As Celeste opened her mouth to speak, he fleeting thought he should have dodged it, he shouldn’t have come. Then she hooked a finger inside the placket of his shirt and he jerked as cold metal slid against his skin. For the space of a single, irrational heartbeat, his brain imagined the sharp slice of a knife against his skin. Then her voice penetrated the darkness of his abyss.
His hand closed around her wrist and he glanced down to see she’d slipped one open end of the collar into his shirt. The cold metal was a sharp as a knife blade against his skin.
“Sean?”
“Celeste?”
“Did you hear me?”
“No.” He fought his way back to the world of the living. He owed her his attention for a few seconds at least. He had to say the words she needed to hear – the words that would release her to love Drew. Her pulse raced against his fingers, but his hand refused to release her. Not yet.
“I said, if you want me to wear this, you have to agree to my conditions.”
“What?”
“Danse avec moi.” She twisted her wrist to take his hand in hers. “Dance with me,” she translated for his paralyzed brain. “We’ll discuss my conditions.”
His feet moved, pulled along in her wake as she towed him to the center of the deserted dance floor. Oxygen was still on short supply so he repeated the mantra again. Conditions. She had conditions before she would wear his collar again. Did she know he’d agree to anything to have her wear his collar? Anything.
The first strains of the music began. Sean recognized the tango. He wasn’t much of a dancer, but this one, he could do. Life with Celeste was a daily tango. His head began to clear, and his heart began to beat without his constant supervision. He focused on the long column of skin revealed by the draped back of her dress.
His.
His hand ached to touch her, to press his palm to the heated silk of her skin. His lips burned to taste the skin at the base of her spine. She’d swept her hair up into some kind of elaborately twisted arrangement, held in place by one red rose. His fingers itched to pull it free and watch her hair tumble down her back. It was all he could do to not drop to his knees and beg, but he wouldn’t, not unless she wanted him to. He guessed she had something else in mind as they came to a stop in the center of the floor. He shrugged out of his jacket and threw it blindly at the sidelines. She curled a finger toward him, an age-old invitation. Instinctively, he took her in his arms. They’d danced the tango many times. It was truly the only dance he knew, and that was because there were no steps to memorize. Each dance was unique, fueled and choreographed by the emotions of the dancers.
Celeste pressed against him, slightly offset, but chest-to-chest, hip to hip. He moved into the music, pushing her backward, one step, two. The piano thrummed to the beat of his heart, and the violins soared like the blood through his veins, like an electrical current. It hummed between their bodies, the connection making him more alive than he’d felt in years, ever since Celeste had walked away from him. She was back, and he wasn’t going to let her go.
“Condition one,” she said, and he spun her around to let her know he had conditions of his own. Celeste pushed back, propelling him backward for two long strides. Her eyes met his in a direct challenge. She’d changed. He’d given her time to get to know him again, never realizing he should have been getting to know the new Celeste. He liked this new, bolder, more self-assured woman. He raised one eyebrow to let her know he was listening.
“I won’t give up Drew.” Sean sent her reeling away from him, and snapped her back when she’d reached the end of his tether. If this is what she considered negotiations, they didn’t have much to talk about. Not give up Drew? He’d agree to anything. Anything but that.
There was self-assured, and then there was insane.
“No Deal.” Sean released her, and turned to walk away. He felt the loss immediately, as if someone had pulled the plug on his life support. Her arms wrapped around his waist; stopped him before he reached the edge of the dance floor. For the space of a heartbeat, he thought she’d seen her error. He should have known better.
She pressed her length against his back and splayed her hands over his chest. “Negotiate,” she breathed against his nape.
Hell, why not? Something primitive rose inside him. Celeste was his. He could give her what she wanted. Maybe.
Celeste breathed a sigh of relief when Sean turned, pressed her backwards across the dance floor, and dropped her over his arm. She’d expected him to fight back. Instead, he’d walked away from her without a backward gla
nce. One word had brought him back. Her head fell back and he stretched his hard body over hers and breathed against her ear, “Never.”
So much for negotiating. Nevertheless, it was the answer she’d hoped for, but it was too early in the negotiations to let him know that.
Celeste rose with fire in her eyes, and Sean swept her into another long waltz down the length of the floor. They came to a stop, and he jerked her against him. His erection pressed against her hip. She kept her eyes fixed on a spot over his shoulder, but he felt the shiver of reaction that shimmered through her body. She wanted him. His hand on the satin skin at the small of her back was like touching a live wire. The current held his hand captive.
“Condition two. Marry me.”
Had she conceded on condition one? She turned them, took the lead, and pushed him back in the direction they’d come. Her eyes met his and held as their feet moved in tandem like a four-legged beast. He could agree to condition number two. He’d do whatever it took to bind her to him for the rest of their lives.
He spun them ruthlessly. Celeste had no choice but to hold on tight and enjoy the ride. His aftershave seduced, and his arms held her like steel bands. He could take as long as he liked to contemplate her proposal, as long as he continued to hold her.
“Tomorrow. We’ll fly to Vegas.” He whispered against her neck as he spun them through the final turn. A thrill skittered along her nerve endings and made her giddy. She twisted away from him and back again.
When her eyes met his again, she held her triumph close and proceeded with the negotiations.
“Condition Three. I want kids. Three.”
She turned her back to his chest, wrapped one arm over his shoulder, and cupped the back of his neck in her palm. God, the woman could seduce a monk. Electricity skittered along his spine from the point of contact with her fingers, to her sweet ass pressed against his groin. He found it hard to think.