A Scandalous Deal

by Joanna Shupe

  “Indeed, it is.” He settled deeper in his seat as he cut his beef with a knife and fork. “Though Pulitzer’s building on Park Row is rumored to be taller. Won’t know until it’s completed.”

  “How many stories are planned?” She leaned in, fascinated. Americans were obsessed with building higher, these skyscrapers that seemed to defy gravity.

  “They say twenty.”

  She could not hide her shock. “That is astounding. The foundation must be quite deep.”

  “Quite.” He forked up a bite of meat. “I hadn’t expected a woman to know that sort of thing. Do you fancy architecture?”

  Even through the haze of champagne she knew not to admit her true passion to this man. “Oh, I merely guessed. With all that steel and . . . heaviness one could only assume the bottom would need to be strong.”

  “You would be right.”

  Worried she’d revealed too much, she soldiered on. “No, I merely like to look at buildings. I’m curious to see how your landscape differs from London and the other European cities.” She lunged for her champagne to rinse the awful lie from her mouth.

  “New York is unlike any city to which you’ve ever been, I guarantee it. Any idea how long you’ll stay?”

  All that depended on Mansfield. If she could satisfy him to where he’d leave the project alone, then she could return to England for a few months while construction continued. She hadn’t planned on leaving her father alone for long. He was well cared for, but she felt a responsibility to be close to him as his health declined.

  “I am not certain,” she told Phillip. “I’ve not seen my friend in a long time. I’m taking as long a holiday as I like.”

  His brows lowered. “Did you just say ‘holy day’ or ‘holiday’?”

  She covered her mouth with her hand, stifling the urge to giggle. Had she slurred her speech? Her head was buzzing and there was no way to be sure. “Holiday,” she enunciated. “I said holiday.”

  Eyeing her champagne glass, she pushed it away with two fingers. Perhaps she’d overdone it tonight.

  At that moment, the ship wrenched sharply again and they both lunged to steady the champagne bottle. This time their hands collided and knocked the heavy glass piece onto the floor. Champagne spilled over the carpet in a dramatic spray. Their eyes met—and they both broke out into a fit of laughter.

  She had no idea why the accident was hilarious, but they kept laughing while he righted the bottle. “That was a waste of perfectly good champagne,” he said.

  “We should say a few parting words. To show the appropriate amount of sorrow.”

  He nodded. “Give me your hand.” When she did, he gripped it and bowed his head. “Dearest Wine Gods, forgive our clumsiness in wasting this bounty produced from the finest French grapes.”

  She snickered even as he gave her a mock frown. “And do not blame this woman for her jocularity. She knows not what she does. More importantly, we hope this spilled champagne finds eternal peace in the afterlife.”

  She snorted a laugh and he grinned at her, his handsomeness sending a thrill through her. How was a man this charming and eye-pleasing unmarried? He stared down at where their hands were still joined and she realized her thumb was rubbing the inside of his wrist, almost absently, intimately.

  Horrified, she released him. “I apologize. I hadn’t meant to . . .”

  He reached across the table to find her hand once more. “I didn’t mind.”

  A mighty wave crashed into the side of the ship, jostling everything in an explosion of movement and sound, and the lights flickered. Her breath caught and Phillip froze. The flickering finally stopped and she exhaled, relief cascading through her. “Thank heavens. For a minute I thought—”

  Blackness engulfed the dining room as the lights cut out.

  The moon offered hardly any light and inky darkness surrounded them. “Phillip?”

  She heard the fear in her voice and suddenly a warm, heavy hand landed reassuringly on her shoulder. “I’m here, Evelyn.” He’d risen and crossed to her side of the table, thank goodness.

  “What should we do?”

  “We should go.” He helped her out of her chair. “Perhaps the cabins still have light.”

  “Yes, good idea.”

  She stood and clutched his shoulder, unsteady from both the rocking of the boat as well as the champagne. He quickly wrapped an arm around her waist, anchoring her. They stood pressed together a moment, her breasts smashed into his chest, their legs tangled. Thank heavens for the darkness. Her skin felt as if it had gone up in flames, the sensation of his hard frame so foreign next to hers. Yet she didn’t move away.

  She wanted to move in farther, wrap her arms around him, and never let go. Was that fear . . . or something else? She wasn’t certain.

  “Are you all right?” His voice sounded strained, not his usual tone at all.

  She patted his lapel. “Perfectly fine. Lead on.”

  He guided her into the corridor. None of the lights were working, so they groped their way down the dark staircase and then stumbled along the first-class passageway. The pitch of the ship was considerably worse belowdecks, making walking extremely difficult.

  Eva clung to him, uncaring of propriety. Her heart pounded behind her ribs, loud to her ears even in the fierce storm. The boat is strong. Constructed of iron plates riveted over an iron and steel hull, with a screw propulsion system that will keep us moving through the storm. We won’t sink. Probably.

  “Where is your cabin?”

  She swallowed and shook her head, though he couldn’t see it. She didn’t want to be alone. “I believe yours is closer. Let’s go there.”

  He didn’t argue, merely stopped at a door and unlocked it after a few fumbles with the key. He held open the wooden panel and she stepped into the darkness. He tried the switch on the wall and nothing happened. “Dash it,” he muttered and she heard the door close behind him.

  Eyes now adjusted to the darkness, she could make out the sitting area and the wooden platform bed beyond. The scent of leather and cigar caught in her nose, unmistakably the intimate domain of a man. Nervous giddiness bubbled like champagne in her chest. She’d never been in a man’s apartments before. All her fiancés had maintained a respectful distance, with only William, her last betrothed, sneaking a tepid kiss during a turn in the gardens late one night. It had been akin to drinking a bland cup of tea.

  Would she die before ever experiencing any passion in her life?

  “Shall we sit?”

  The deep whisper slid over her skin like a caress, the question almost a dare. He doesn’t expect you to stay. Did he think she’d faint at the sight of rumpled bedsheets? She hated to be dismissed. Underestimated. Some days it felt she’d spent her entire life trying to prove herself.

  “Yes. We might as well get comfortable.”

  She heard him move, the soles of his shoes sliding over the carpet, clothing rustling, just before a large hand closed around her wrist. Before they took a step, the ship tilted and she lost her balance. His arms shot out to steady her, with one hand going to the wall for support and the other wrapping securely around her waist. Every part of her was flush with his frame and she leaned in, curling her fingers into his evening coat. “You are unusually strong. Are all New York gentlemen like you?”

  He chuckled. “I believe this is the part where I say that no man in all of America is like me.”

  “I would almost believe that.” He was certainly a contradiction. A man of good breeding, clearly wealthy, with hands like a laborer and a body like a longshoreman. He’d taken care with her tonight, made her feel safe despite the storm. Not only that, he’d made her feel pretty. Desirable.

  There was something about him that both relaxed and excited her. A deep thrill erupted low in her belly each time she looked at him, a hum of attraction she’d never experienced with a man before.

  “Stop moving,” he told her.

  “I am not moving. The boat is moving.”

&n
bsp; “I realize that, but you’re . . . rubbing against me and I fear you’ll discover more than you bargained for in a moment.”

  What did he . . . ? Was he aroused?

  She couldn’t imagine any other meaning and the idea that he wanted her as well sent a rush of heat through her veins. This beautiful, intelligent man desired her, and for once in her life she wanted to be reckless. To replace the gossip and sneers she’d endured during the past three years with the memory of one night where she’d allowed herself to be someone else, someone daring.

  To prove there might be a little good luck for her after all.

  Without realizing what she was doing, her palm landed on his jaw. “You are exceedingly handsome. Even when we first met I thought you were perfectly lickable.”

  One dark brow shot up. “Did you say ‘likable’ or ‘lickable’?”

  You’ll never make your mark on the world by playing it safe, her father had often said, words now echoing through Eva’s skull as she rose on her toes and dragged the tip of her nose over his chin. He smelled divine, all clean skin and woodsy cologne. Her tongue darted out and swiped under his jaw. He inhaled sharply but did not pull away. “Hmm,” she murmured. “Definitely lickable.”

  In a blink, his hands cupped her face, holding her still as he captured her mouth with his own, kissing her hard. She responded instantly, eagerly, returning the kiss and parting her lips to allow him inside. And oh, goodness, the slick, warm softness that met her tongue. It was heaven. He drove deeper, angling and shifting, stroking, stealing her breath.

  Her fingers found their way under his coat and she dug her nails into his strong back, tugging him even closer. He pressed her against the door, nearly pinning her with his delicious weight, hands feeling and testing everywhere he could reach. Her hips aligned wonderfully with his and she immediately felt what he’d been referring to earlier. His erection dug into her, fascinating in its thickness.

  She felt drunk on him, much more so than from the champagne. She bit his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the plump flesh. He growled in response, a primal, raw sound that matched exactly how she felt at this moment. Like she wanted to tear off his clothes and explore every inch of him.

  He dove for her mouth once again, consuming her. She couldn’t get enough of his taste, the demanding way he chased her tongue with his own . . . He rolled his hips to drag his erection over her pubic bone as he cupped her breast over her clothing. She gasped, surrounded by pleasure and sensation. Overwhelmed by the fierceness of her reaction, as if she’d explode at any moment.

  He began trailing kisses along her jaw, down her throat, and she nearly collapsed into a puddle on the floor. No wonder girls risked their reputations over a passionate encounter. It was bliss and torture all at once. “We should not be doing this,” he murmured as she arched to allow him better access. “But I’ve been dying to kiss you all night.”

  “You have?”

  He nipped her collarbone through the silk of her dress and a shiver coursed through her. “Indeed. It’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

  Just then, the ship rocked and dipped, forcing them apart, and they both teetered. He put a hand on her hip as they stood there, breath powering out of their lungs as if they’d run a race. No, no, no . . . she wasn’t ready to stop yet. Would he send her away? Or would he lead her to the bed and ravish her?

  He jerked a thumb in the direction of the sofa. “Perhaps we should sit, before we’re knocked to the floor.”

  Relief nearly weakened her knees and she hid a grin. “Sitting sounds like a fine idea.”

  Once on the sofa, her skin burned with the feverish desire to touch and be touched. The kisses . . . Dear Lord, the kisses. Eva hadn’t been able to get enough.

  She wanted more.

  That is the champagne talking. You’ll regret this tomorrow.

  Perhaps. Perhaps not. And she couldn’t think on that right now, considering Phillip was staring at her as if he might pounce at any second. A thrill skated down her spine.

  “Are you shocked?”

  She blinked at his question. “Shocked?”

  His face was cast in shadow but she could see the dark smile twist his lips. “I was talking about the kiss by the door, but I guess the answer is no.”

  What she felt could hardly be considered shock. Ravished. Excited. Enlightened. All those words were more apt, though she kept this to herself. Instead, she asked, “Are you shocked?”

  “I am, actually. I lost myself for a moment there.” He reached to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You are quite unexpected.”

  The compliment buzzed through her like more champagne, making her even more light-headed. Did all Americans just say what they were thinking at any old time?

  “Yes, we do. It’s part of our charm.”

  Had she said that aloud? “I suppose I’ll need to get used to it during my visit. We English are a bit more reserved.”

  He relaxed and stretched his arms along the back of the sofa. His waistcoat outlined his impressive chest, each expansion of his rib cage straining the fabric. “Are you certain you’d like to stay? I can escort you back to your room.”

  She didn’t want to leave. At all.

  “I’d like to stay, if you don’t mind me here.”

  “I don’t mind a bit.” Sliding closer, he lifted her fingers to his mouth where he kissed each one lightly. “In fact, I’m quite glad of it.”

  Her muscles grew heavy, sinking into the soft fabric of the sofa. “Are you?”

  His teeth gently scraped one knuckle before he murmured, “Yes, and I promise to restrain myself from doing anything improper tonight.”

  That implied there would be another night, which Eva knew to be patently false. Even if the boat stayed afloat in this terrible storm, they would never see each other again once they arrived in New York. Eva hadn’t the time or inclination toward romance while there. The hotel project would consume all her focus and energies.

  She studied him through her lashes. “What if I said we only had tonight?”

  He released her and put up his hands, palms out. “I would still say no. You’re inebriated and I’d be taking advantage of you.”

  Inebriated? “I’m merely tipsy—and you drank far more champagne than I did.”

  “I’m also twice your size. And you passed tipsy three glasses ago.”

  Had she? Whether it was Phillip or the champagne she felt alive, more alive than ever before. She didn’t want this to end. Tomorrow brought reality, with work and responsibility. Pressure and loneliness. Tonight was for abandon, with steamy kisses that curled her toes. “If you’re inebriated as well, then aren’t I also taking advantage of you?”

  “A dangerous combination. It means neither of us is thinking clearly. I wouldn’t care to be a source of regret for you.”

  His consideration both reassured and frustrated her. “What if we took advantage of one another?”

  His gaze glittered in the darkness, his mouth hitching in amusement. “You wish to take advantage of me?”

  She flicked a glance over his wide shoulders, the rough hands and strong jaw. The thick thighs spread slightly apart on the sofa cushions. She fought the urge to lick her lips. “Yes, I rather do.”

  “Well, then. I am at your service.” He gave a wave of his hand, as if magnanimously granting a wish.

  Giddiness and desire surged throughout her and she angled closer. “Endeavor not to complain, if you please.”

  “I shall certainly try.” He tracked her approach, anticipation crackling in the air between them. She was nearly panting by the time she settled next to him, her thigh tucked snugly against his. Heat rolled off his frame and her nipples tightened behind her clothing. She had never been this bold, this eager, yet she could not seem to help herself. The storm raging outside, traveling alone on the ship . . . none of this seemed real.

  Like in a dream, she placed her hand on his face, the evening whiskers rough against her palm. “Kiss me, Phillip th
e American.”

  He bent his head slowly, as if giving her time to reconsider, but she merely moistened her lips and waited, breathing him in. His lips brushed hers gently once, then twice. Then he turned toward her, hands threading through her hair. Their mouths opened as if by silent agreement and his tongue twined lazily with hers. He controlled the pace this time, the kiss slower but thorough, as if he were memorizing her. Savoring her. She put her hands on his chest, the hard planes of his body a solid anchor under her fingers.

  The boat twisted and dipped in the fierce waves but she hardly noticed. Phillip was driving her mad with the perfect rasp of lips over hers, the masterful suction of his mouth. Each flick of his tongue sent sparks along her limbs, the place between her legs now pulsing with desperate yearning. Everything inside her strained to get closer, begged for more. She canted her head to deepen the kiss, her fingers jabbing into his soft hair while her breasts crushed against his front.

  The kiss grew frenzied, their chests heaving and hands grasping. She’d never felt like this before, so light and brave, as if she could do anything. She had the urge to touch him everywhere she could reach. Arms, throat, chest . . . He jolted when her palm skimmed over his thigh.

  The world tilted as he quickly lifted her. He settled her on his lap, his arms banded around her, holding her tight to his frame. Hot. He’s so very warm. More deep, drugging kisses. A noticeable erection rested beneath her buttocks and she loved this proof of how much he wanted her.

  Yet the kisses weren’t nearly enough to satisfy the ache building inside her. She wriggled, needing to get closer, nearly climbing him from the urgency, every part of her body throbbing and pulsing, scorching with desperation. As if he read her mind, his fingers pushed up her skirts. A gentle nudge parted her thighs and he delved into her drawers, right to the very heart of her.

  She froze as one digit swept the slickness surrounding her entrance. He tore away from her mouth. “You are soaked. I feel as if I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

  Thank goodness, because she had no idea if that was normal or not. She had a basic understanding of the act but the details were a mystery, other than what she had discovered during her own explorations. Without a mother or sisters, Eva had been left to piece together knowledge from books. In short, she had no idea what men expected when it came to intimacy.