“You seem…upset.”
“Upset?” she retorted, hugging herself like he wanted to. “You haven’t seen upset until—”
“But your problem’s solved. Skandalis is letting you work off your debt—”
“Skandalis can screw himself! ‘You will report to the spa—half an hour—naked!’” she mimicked. “But you know the worst part? For a brief and shining moment, I believed you and Mr. British Gentility would step up to the plate and rescue me! All that talk about Lola getting what she wants! And that’s not how it came down at all!”
Rio fought back his laughter. “Pardon me if I’m overstepping, but when a woman visits the concierge wearing only a revealing robe and sexy little sandals, she’s sending a clear message about what she wants. And when three men see her in this—suggestive state of—”
“How was I to know all three of you would gang up on me? I thought you and Kingsley were on my side!”
He closed his eyes against the image of lying with her, Lola on her side and he on his, leaning into each other, kissing with mad passion. When she swung her leg over his hip so he could slide inside her, that sparkly screw-me shoe dangled from her toes.
“And we are, my sweet. At the captain’s command, I could have—”
“I’m not your sweet! Go to the chocolate shop if you want candy!”
“—escorted you to the brig instead of to your new suite. My sweet.”
“And you see a difference?” Lola threw him an exasperated frown as she stepped out of the elevator ahead of him. “My cuffs might be invisible, but they’re here! If this ship had a jail cell, you could just—”
“It does. Remind me sometime, and I’ll show you what a romantic little hideaway it can be, down there in the bowels of the ship.”
She stopped in the corridor. Glared up at him with those feline green eyes and that auburn hair flying in crazy, alluring disarray around her face. “Get real. And just get it over with, will you?”
He slipped his master key card into the door, reminding himself that once they stepped inside, he was not to touch her. She’d declared herself a free woman, with thought, word and deed—but that was before Skandalis pronounced Lola his conquest.
“Are you ready?” he asked patiently. He opened the door just enough to stick his foot inside, which left him standing so close to her he could follow the rise and fall of those breasts…could still smell the herbal scent from her shower…could count the delicate freckles on skin that shimmered with health and…a very blatant sexuality.
Why hadn’t he gone to Kingsley himself with Lola’s dilemma? Let the concierge and his computer solve her problem? Then this volatile, voluptuous redhead would be so damned grateful—would be his instead of—
“Ready for what?” she asked tartly.
With an inward groan, Rio opened the door and waved her inside. “Your prison, Miss Wright. The captain wants you to do nothing but suffer for the sins of your fiancé.”
“Ex-fian—”
Lola halted in the foyer, on a floor of mosaic tiles that glistened like stained glass. Her mouth fell open.
“Holy shit. This must be the Presidential suite, or the—”
“Castle’s keep?” Rio quipped. He glanced around, to be sure they were still alone. “Solitary confinement at its finest, wouldn’t you say? The Aphrodisia Suite’s a bit of an upgrade from your stateroom where the joggers could gawk in at you.”
Lola’s eyes widened. “It’s one-way glass, that picture window.”
“So they say.”
Before she could spin off into another conversation that would only make him silence her with a ravenous kiss, DeSilva walked to the center of the spacious front parlor to point out its amenities.
“Living room here, complete with home theater entertainment and a sound system with speakers throughout the suite. Fresh flowers to welcome you, compliments of your despicable Captain Scandalous—”
She stopped gaping at arrangements of tropical lilies and red-orange hibiscus. “How’d you know I called him that?”
He grinned. Thought about hedging, just to get her more riled up. “You said it to his face, remember? Not that you’re the first. He secretly loves that nickname, so you made some points—along with winning favor by painting those other points.”
She pulled her lapels together, miffed again. “He’s an arrogant bastard and you know it! Please don’t tell me you obey his every rule and whim.”
DeSilva kept his gaze steady, considering how much to reveal.
“He’s the captain of the ship, Lola. When he says you’re his alone, I must honor that command. And besides,” he went on, gesturing toward the large bedroom to their right, “didn’t you get what you wanted? Nearly a week with a man so hot he makes you melt—who has put you in this room and provided you a companion—and you’re complaining! Or so it would seem.”
Lola glanced at the lush king-sized bed swaddled in plush and pillows, and the balcony that beckoned her through French doors. The entire suite was done in cranberry and royal blue with ivory accents; lots of gold and glass details to make it a sumptuous hideaway any woman would love to wile away endless weeks in.
So why was Rio’s point hitting home? Why was she acting so pissy, when she had indeed won the attention of that Greek god she’d gawked at on TV?
“OK, so I got what I wanted,” she replied. “But it was on his terms!”
“Skorpio’s a man who craves control. Again—that’s what you said you wanted.”
It was all he could do not to laugh at her—not to make love to her on that huge bed that just called out for a man and his woman to get lost in its cushioned depths. Lost in each other.
But thoughts like that would get him into more trouble than he could afford right now. While he didn’t like it that Lola was disappointed in him, for not being her white knight, it was the best way to keep this relationship at a safe distance. Because that’s where it had to stay.
Her sigh lingered in the room, like the languid scent of the scarlet roses on the dressing table. Lola’s expression told him she wasn’t accustomed to such luxury; her wistfulness suggested she didn’t feel she belonged here—or deserved such a room.
Perhaps his new mission should be to change that attitude…to convince Ms. Wright with every bit of his body and soul that she was a woman who should be living out those fantasies of becoming a man’s queen. He could see her now, wearing only a royal purple robe trimmed in ermine, which would slither off her to provide them a cozy pallet on the floor, where he could—
The door opened, and Rio’s brief fantasy ended. “Ah—and here’s your companion.”
“My new best friend,” she said with a roll of her eyes. But when she turned to get a look at him, Lola stopped in her tracks.
The warden Skandalis had sent looked to be about twenty-something years old. Had a lithe body and a mop of sun-streaked, tangled curls that partly hid his eyes. He walked with the easy grace of a guy who’d sauntered along hundreds of white sand beaches, and who had no higher ambition than to spend the rest of his life doing that.
And why wasn’t she surprised that he had a cell phone at his ear? Or maybe it was some sort of walkie-talkie like DeSilva wore on his belt, for staff communications.
Then, when the kid grinned at her as he listened, it hit her full force: Cabana boy. Omigod, I’ve got a cabana boy to die for!
“Lola, this is Aric,” Rio announced. “He’s at your beck and call for the rest of the week, so don’t hesitate to keep him busy. And Aric—”
Beach Boy held up one finger while he finished his conversation.
“Yes, sir, I understand. She’s right here, and I’ll have her in the spa waiting for you.” He holstered his walkie-talkie on the loop of his low-rise boxer trunks, giving her a slow once-over. “The captain sends his regards, Ms. Wright. Fifteen minutes. Naked.”
“Send the captain this!” she replied with a flick of her middle finger.
Aric’s grin rose like th
e sultry Caribbean sun. “He’ll like that. I’ll let you deliver the message yourself, though.”
Lola bit back what she’d been about to say. Back home in the real world, she’d never dream of flipping somebody the bird—not even clueless drivers who cut her off because they were yacking on their cells. So why was she acting so damn hostile? So rude, when so many good-looking men were just waiting around to be of service?
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m behaving badly. I’m lowering myself to Fletcher’s level, and neither one of you deserve that.”
“Apology accepted,” Rio replied. “And, since I’m responsible for the security of this ship for another hour, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Keep the lady out of trouble, Aric.”
“Will do, sir.”
DeSilva nodded and went to the door, not liking the kid’s expression one bit. It was like Skandalis had assigned a sly young fox to watch a very vulnerable, very desirable bird, simply to rub his nose in it, too.
“Mr. DeSilva? Rio?”
Lola’s voice curled around him as though she’d cupped him from behind. He turned in time to catch a look of wanting on her face; an expression that made his body ache to reply in kind. “Yes, mi corazon?”
She nipped her lip, and the sight of those white teeth against her lush mouth made him wish such an endearment hadn’t slipped out. Where had that come from, anyway? Why was he letting on like he was on her menu, when the captain had declared her his dish?
“It is one-way glass in those picture windows, right?”
Whatever she’d done in that room on the Promenade Deck, he wished he’d seen it. He smiled at her, wishing he could do so much more…like getting rid of her watch dog.
“In broad daylight you’re relatively safe, yes,” he assured her.
But with me? Never!
6
Unlike Rio DeSilva, her cabana boy leaned against the same wall of the elevator as she did, standing close enough that their arms nearly touched. Not a bad thing, except, well—he was young. Which meant he either had the hots for her—
Oh, get real! You’re old enough to be his…aunt.
—or he wanted to make damn sure she didn’t escape when the doors opened downstairs. He was tall enough that he could gawk right down into her cleavage, and in the reflection of the stainless steel wall across from them, Lola could see he was doing just that. Probably ogling those Very Cherry nipples she was wishing she hadn’t painted. Probably because Captain Scandalous had clued him in about them.
It was too damn warm in here. Too quiet, with just the thrum of the elevator going all the way down from the penthouse deck.
“So,” she said, desperate for conversation, “I guess after you’ve worked your summer on the cruise ship, you’ll be going back to college?”
“And give up a cushy job like this?”
Smart aleck! If Aric weren’t so hot, with that medallion hanging among the sparse hairs on his chest, she’d smack him for sounding so insolent.
Lola shifted to her left, trying for a little more space. But damned if he didn’t shift, too.
“So this is your life’s work?” she challenged. “I suppose you play escort—bodyguard—whatever—for a different woman each week? The captain impresses me as a man with a lot of steam to let off.”
“You think I’m gonna answer that?”
She glared up at him, a teacher ready to put this wise-guy student in his place.
But his expression made her swallow her retort. Aric’s eyes were taking their own sweet time checking her out. They were a silvery green, those eyes, and his lips were parted just enough to make her think he modeled for magazines; had maybe gotten some botox shots to make them look so professionally pouty.
But, hey—he was looking at her! None of Fletch’s judgmental advice or left-handed compliments on his mind. And, actually, he was discreet and intelligent—at least about keeping the secrets of the man who signed his paychecks.
“Nice robe,” he said matter-of-factly. And damned if he didn’t run his finger up her arm, just enough to make her breath catch. “Silk?”
“Yeah. On clearance at Victoria’s Secret,” she breathed.
Now that sounded classy! Not only had her man—exman—run off with her plastic and her cell and her business accounts, but she was so high-class as to admit she wore stuff nobody else would pay full price for.
“I like it.”
Lola blinked. But she saw no smirk on his face or heard no telltale edge in his voice. Just a man of few words, making conversation. About her.
“Thank you, Aric.”
“No problem.”
So much for her rising opinion of him—but then, she hadn’t exactly been a shining example of the social graces, had she? “I—I want you to know that I’m not ordinarily so mouthy or—”
“Don’t go there.”
The elevator doors slid open with a seductive whisper, and he gestured for her to go first. They stepped out into a hallway she hadn’t seen—but then, she’d had little time to explore the ship. Incense, or maybe candles, filled the air with the subtle scent of sandalwood and Aric opened a carved door with elegant gold lettering that said THE GODDESS SPA. He was leaning down just enough that his face was level with hers. Kissing level…
“We’ll have lots of time to share secrets this week, Miss Lola,” he continued with a crocodile smile. “Why waste them on elevator chitchat, when we’ve got the Aphrodisia Suite all to ourselves?”
Was that a promise or a threat? Lola wasn’t sure how to answer him, now that he was stringing more than two or three words together.
“Miss Christy’ll be here in a minute. So I might as well relieve you of that robe.”
She blinked. Was this kid going to peel it off her? Right here in the spa lobby, where just anybody might walk in and—
He glanced at his watch—quite possibly a Rolex, but probably a knock-off. “Fifteen minutes—with two to spare. And naked. Right?”
A young man who took his work seriously. Lola turned her back to disrobe, but a huge gilt-framed mirror reflected Aric’s face then, right above her own, as she untied the sash. His eyes held hers in the glass as the silk slithered down past her shoulders, baring her breasts.
At least he didn’t tweak those lewd nipples, like the captain had. His smile was slow and sensuous like a lover’s, rather than a warden’s, and it occurred to Lola that maybe solitary confinement with Stud Boy here would be a welcome relief from working off her debt with the captain.
“Hey, sugar! Just in time!” a honeyed drawl accosted them. “Let’s get you into that little room and ready, shall we, darlin’?”
Was the masseuse talking to Aric, or her? Miss Christy’s enthusiasm was outdone only by her ample assets: she was a curvy blonde with hips that would’ve looked oversized had she not needed them to balance out the golden pillows pushing up out of her lacy pink pajama top. Lola hadn’t worn baby dolls since she was a kid, but this woman had just brought them back into vogue in a very adult way.
“I—nice to meet you, Miss—”
“Miss Christy. So glad to be helpin’ out!” she chirped, pumping Lola’s hand. “Nice to see a gal from the good ole U. S. of A.—not that these Greeks aren’t good-lookin’ and reeeeeal good about tippin’!”
Somehow, she’d expected a more…soft-spoken, New-Age, mystical type down here in the Goddess Spa. But then, what had gone like she’d expected it to?
Miss Christy gave Aric a cheerful salute—the changing of the guard—and then guided her toward a room behind the ornately carved check-in desk. The lobby, decorated in pale sage and maize and teakwood, was dominated by a larger-than-life statue of a goddess with raven waves cascading down her sun-kissed body.
“Let me guess. Aphrodite?” Lola said to make conversation.
“You got it, honey! Some guests like to rub her nubs for luck, but hey—you’re Skorpio’s girl tonight! Lady Luck is already playin’ your song!”
That was one way to loo
k at it. She didn’t have much time to look at anything, however, the way Miss Christy was hustling her into a dimly lit room with two massage beds and candles that flickered seductively in wall sconces. A fountain bubbled in the corner, next to a table covered with vials and jars.
“You know, don’t you, that the line’s two other ships cater to a little different crowd,” the masseuse said, patting the cushioned table. “The S.S. Athena specializes in, well—girly things—”
Lola sensed she wasn’t talking about chick trips with your sister.
“—and the Pandora, now that’s where you get into heavy metal and leather. You know—the little whips, and the manacles chained to the walls, and the room stewards wearin’ spiked dog collars?” she went on nonchalantly. “You picked the right ship, sugar!”
“I—I certainly did!”
“And there’s nobody I’d rather look at nekkid than Skorpio Skandalis. Now you just get comfy here—”
Lola settled herself on the soft, scented sheet, thinking maybe this wasn’t such a bad way to repay Fletch’s debts.
“—while I slick you down a little,” the masseuse chattered. “More fun when you don’t have any friction. Just warm, oiled skin….”
Warm, thick liquid dribbled down her spine and Lola caught her breath with the intense sensation. Miss Christy had a fine set of hands: gentle fingers smoothed the oil into her neck and shoulders, to release the tension she’d been holding there. On down her ribcage they went, until Lola buried a giggle in the small pillow.
“Ticklish, are we?” Miss Christy whispered. “Ooooooh, this is gonna be so much fun! Just you wait!”
As her body went limp, rocking with the firm rhythm of the massage strokes, it occurred to Lola that she was waiting. Where was that damn captain who’d insisted on fifteen minutes?
At the Gala Reception, silly. You think he’s going to leave all those admiring, sequined women for YOU?
She would’ve realized this earlier, had she been her rational self. And now, with these skillful hands lulling her into a heavenly state, Lola told herself not to think about Captain Scandalous—or that other jerk who’d gotten her into this mess in the first place. It was a fine, fine thing to lie here and be blissfully oblivious, rocked like a baby in the arms of the ocean…
All Night Long Page 4