Docked

by Wade, Rachael

  He squares his shoulders and steps forward, the tips of his shoes just inches from mine. Instinctually, I back up, until I’m flush with the bookshelf. “While we’re on the subject of being forward,” he dips his fingers into his suit pocket and retrieves a business card, “have dinner with me.”

  My heels hit the bottom of the wall and the back of my head bumps the shelf. I raise a hand to soothe my skull. “Dinner?”

  “Do you play, Anya Banks?” His lips quirk.

  “Tanner,” I swallow hard, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  “You’re right. I do appreciate honesty. And the truth is there’s no shame in mixing business with pleasure, as long as it’s mutual, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “What about the feature?”

  “What about it? I have no doubt you’ll report honestly to Lana and that she’ll write a truthful, quality piece on my ship. You having dinner with me won’t affect the job you came here to do, Anya.”

  “How can you be so sure of that?” I scan his face—his confident, self-assured face. He’s a rock, and I’m scrambling to hang on. This man ensnares me.

  “Because anyone can see you’re a strong, smart woman with integrity.” He extends the card, holding it in front of my face. “You won’t ever compromise that.”

  I glance at it, hesitantly lifting my hand to accept, and he watches the card pass between us. I wait for him to back up, to let me reclaim my space, but he doesn’t move.

  “I’ll tell you over dinner why I was afraid of the ocean.”

  “I haven’t agreed to dinner yet.”

  His eyes flick to the card resting between my fingers and he grins smugly.

  “I thought that topic wasn’t open for discussion.”

  “It will be if you eat with me.”

  “Tanner—”

  He steps forward, leaning over to bring his lips to my ear. “Say yes,” he whispers, finding my hand and brushing his thumb over my knuckles. My skin ignites from head to toe and my breath turns shallow. All reminders of his brunette plaything vanish as he swallows up the space, covering me in his web. And it hits me—he plays. And that’s exactly what I’m on this cruise ship to do.

  To play.

  “Yes,” I say, curling the business card under my fist. “When?”

  He pulls back to respond but a beeping interrupts him, followed by a buzz from the phone’s intercom.

  “Mr. Christensen,” Heidi’s voice floats from the line, “Miss Jade Simmons for you, on line three. She’s being rather persistent.”

  The spell is broken. Tanner’s charming smile turns to stone and his jaw hardens as he moves to walk to his desk. Without a word, he snatches up the phone and stabs a button, his voice low and stern. “Jade, I don’t have time for this.” I stand there awkwardly, looking everywhere but at him, but I sense his eyes on me. I chance a peek and he raises a finger, signaling me to wait. “Yes, I know. I’ve heard all of this before. We’ll talk after the sailing.” There’s a pause and a muscle in his jaw pops, his gaze jumping away from mine. “No. I’ll call you back in five minutes, then.” He hangs up and inhales sharply, remaining stationed behind his desk. “I’m sorry to cut our interview short, Anya. But I have an urgent call to take care of. How about tomorrow night? Seven p.m. at Felina’s Bistro on Deck 8 Aft?”

  “Okay, that sounds great.” I start forward to grab my bag and quickly turn for the door.

  “Anya,” he calls after me. I spin around. “I’m looking forward to it.” His expression softens a bit, but the tension still holds his beautiful features ransom.

  “Me, too.” I nod and quickly dash from the office, flustered by what just transpired. It looks like Lana might get her wish, and I’m certain when I deliver the news to her, she’ll explode with excitement. Maybe I’ll keep it under wraps for a bit so she doesn’t drive me crazy.

  Hurrying back to the room, I wrestle to avoid thinking about the light sway of the ship. I can feel it rocking, but it’s nowhere near as noticeable as it was the night before.

  “Hey!” Lana’s head appears around the corner when I step into the cabin. “How’d it go?”

  “Good, I think.”

  “Good, you think?”

  I give a brisk nod and open my suitcase, suddenly fixated on what to wear tomorrow night.

  “Where did you go?”

  “Just had to interview a staff member for the piece. I think I’m going to have some great material for you to work with.”

  “Oh? Who on the staff?”

  I fluff a sundress and shake out a scarf, picking pieces of lint from the material. “Does this look faded to you? I think it’s faded.”

  “Anya…”

  I hold the scarf higher, examining it under the light. I should’ve thought my response through, should’ve prepared for Lana’s inquisition. Lana pinches my shoulder. “Ow! Do you mind?”

  “Who did you interview?”

  I drop the scarf back onto the pile of clothing in the suitcase and glance at her. She’s standing there, tapping her foot.

  “Tanner Christensen,” I huff, spinning to dart for the bathroom. “Go ahead, enjoy your victory dance.”

  “What?” she squeals and springs to the left, blocking my path. “Seriously?”

  “I’m having dinner with him tomorrow night. We didn’t get to finish the interview.” I stop and glare, waiting for her to get out of my way. I don’t even know why I’m heading to the bathroom. No one can hide from Lana Crawley. When this redhead wants something, she gets it.

  “Glory be and a side of freaking hallelujah!” She slaps my shoulder. “Anya Banks, I knew there was a vixen still in there somewhere. Did you ask him out? Did he ask you? Are you going back to his place or coming back here? Oh my God, what’ll you wear? I bet that man has some serious equipment and knows how to use it.” She spins around and starts a feverish search through my suitcase for the perfect outfit.

  “I knew you’d be thrilled,” I laugh, watching her fingers frantically dig to the bottom of the clothes pile.

  “Damn straight, I’m thrilled! Now the question is, what’re we doing tonight to celebrate the good news?” She wiggles her eyebrows and plucks up my ruby red dress, studying it with determination. “This is the one.”

  “You think?”

  “Oh, I know. Wear that and you won’t make it to dessert.”

  I fold my arms and lean on the bathroom door frame, cocking my head. “Okay. It’s the one.”

  Lana smiles widely and I fill her in on the rest of my visit with Mr. Christensen as we get ready to head out to enjoy the rest of the day. We decide on dinner and some karaoke later, but all that keeps running through my mind is a pair of cerulean eyes, a baby blue tie, and what I’ve just gotten myself into by agreeing to have dinner with the man they belong to. Maybe it can’t hurt to play.

  Maybe it’s just what I need.

  FOUR

  Lana’s eyes grow as big as golf balls when she spots the bread selection. We opted for one of the more casual restaurants for dinner, which offers an enormous buffet and mouthwatering gourmet desserts. Basically, heaven in the mouth.

  “Oh, I’m about to say screw the main course.” Lana jumps in the bread line, salivating as she snatches a plate. “All a girl needs is bread and chocolate to survive in this world.”

  A pretty blonde behind her giggles as she stands there with her plate in hand, ready to dive in. “Girl, ain’t it the truth?” she jokes, nodding emphatically.

  Lana does a little twirl to eye the girl, but her line of sight never really leaves the warm loaves of bread and baskets of rolls. “Right? It’s a miracle I’m not a hundred pounds heavier, because I swear food is the love of my life.”

  “Oh my God, me too! Do you watch the Food Network?”

  “Sweetie, I DVR that shit.”

  “Me, too!”

  “I mean, really? Who needs a man when you can have bread?”

  “I know!”

  I stand to the side of them idly,
listening as they launch into chatting about their mutual love affair with food. They simultaneously load up their plates and I hone in on the dessert buffet, where my heart really lies.

  “Be right back,” I say to Lana, who couldn’t give a flying leap that I’ve disappeared. She’s too consumed in her conversation with the blonde to notice. Once I’m satisfied with my selection of chocolate-covered strawberries, cheesecake bites, and cream puffs, I return to search for Lana and find she’s already seated at a table near the window. The blonde sits next to her, giving me a friendly wave.

  “Anya, this is Brie—spelled like the cheese. She’s a receptionist from Fort Lauderdale and she’s in love with carbs.”

  “Hi, my name’s Brie, and I’m a carbaholic, and it’s been one day since my last slice of bread.”

  “Welcome, Brie,” Lana and I chant in unison. “Admitting you have a problem is the first step.” The three of us burst out laughing, and instantly, a friendship is born. We spend the next hour talking men, ice cream, and shoes, and by the end of dinner, I’m pretty sure that no other girl-talk discussion has ever topped the one we’ve just had.

  Lana and I part ways with Brie, insisting if she’s free later to join us at the karaoke lounge. In no time, we’re back in the cabin for a quick shower and to preen for our evening out. I thank the gods of the sea that today’s been a day of smooth sailing, even more excited that the next two days, we dock on the Trident Voyager’s private Bahamian island. That means two whole days of no sailing, and pure beach bliss. So far, Lana and I have taken notes of everything from the food and the service to the décor and ambience, and we’re sold. As it stands, The Trident Voyager officially gets an A+ from Four Corners Elite.

  Once we’re fully primped and refreshed, we head down to the karaoke lounge. It’s boisterous and full of life, complete with elegant chandeliers, low lighting, and posh, gray booths paired with industrial chrome tables. The TV screens are top of the line and ultra-modern, and the waiters are decked out in uniform blazers. Everywhere we look, groups of girlfriends are laughing as they show off their tanned shoulders in sleeveless dresses, and couples sit canoodling over martini glasses and menus. A woman’s on stage singing “I Will Survive.”

  “Dear God, make it stop,” Lana cringes on a laugh, grabbing my hand to pull us over to the first table she spots.

  “She’s not that bad.”

  “Girl, please. That’s worse than nails on a chalkboard. Sit!” She scoots into the booth and plucks up one of the song menus, eyes lighting up as she scans the selection. “Oh! Oh! I’ve gotta sing Fergie.”

  A laugh bubbles up and I grab one of the menus for myself, wishing I had half the nerve Lana does when it comes to being in the spotlight. I remind myself I’m on this ship to be brave, though, and decide to give myself a swift kick in the ass. I point and throw the menu down with a determined thud. “I’m doing Adele’s ‘Rumor Has It.’”

  “Anya Banks, I’m so proud.” Her head flops to the side and she bats her lashes. “Look at you, taking the reins on the sea, your libido, and the karaoke mic all in one week!”

  I drop my head in my hands and laugh. “Don’t jinx it, I could still chicken out.”

  “Oh, you won’t. By the end of the night, you will conquer that stage. And tomorrow you’ll be rolling around in Tanner’s bed—relaxed and glowing. You’ll see.”

  “I’ve never done anything like this, Lan.”

  “That’s exactly the point! This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Don’t overthink this. Just enjoy it. And be sure to report back. I want all the dirty details, and I do mean all.”

  “What if he’s not…I mean, what if he doesn’t want that with me? What if all he wants is dinner? Dinner doesn’t automatically lead to sex.” It doesn’t matter what Lana says—I can’t help but overthink it, because I’m not the least bit casual when it comes to sex. I don’t believe in giving it to just anyone, so this is brand new territory for me. My body’s a temple and all that jazz.

  “Anya, no man ever just wants dinner. Wear that red dress and he’ll get the message, loud and clear. Hell, you’re already on a roll, why not just jump him in the elevator? He’d love it.” She rubs her hands together excitedly and then reaches for the little sheets of paper from the basket in the middle of the table. She scribbles our names and song choices down and waves for a waiter. “Trust me, the good news about one innocent, casual fling is that it’s just that—casual. No expectations, no nothing. You’ll step off this ship when the cruise is over and you’ll never see him again. No strings attached. Just what you need to shake yourself from this funk. He’s clearly not in the market for anything serious himself, so nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “I am not in a funk!”

  “Says the girl who is indeed in a funk.” I roll up my napkin and toss it at her but she dodges it, leaning to the right. “Mark my words, An. You’ll be a brand new woman when you leave this ship.” The waiter returns and takes our drink order, and ten minutes later, Lana’s name is called by the karaoke host. The crowd hoots and claps to cheer her on, and she hurries up to the stage. I can’t contain my grin as she raps the first few bars of “Fergalicious,” pouting her lips and batting her eyes animatedly. Her performance is over way too soon, and before I know it, my name is called next. Lana takes a dramatic bow and trots off the stage, squeezing my shoulder to cheer me on as she takes a seat at the table.

  I slug back a swig of my drink and spring to my feet, high-tailing it toward the stage before I lose my nerve. The lights flash hot on my face and I squint, searching for the lyrics on the TV screen. I listen to Adele on repeat, but it’s all too easy for me to forget the words when I’m standing up in front of a room full of people like this. The music starts and I begin to follow along, my voice shaky at first. Slowly, my confidence builds and I start to loosen up, enjoying the spotlight for possibly the first time in my life. My hips begin to sway and my shoulders follow suit, rocking to the rhythm as I belt the soulful words.

  Once I’m comfortable enough to look away from the screen, I look out into the crowd. People are clapping and smiling good naturedly, and Lana is waving her hands in the air like the mad woman she is. I wink at her and shimmy my shoulders, closing my eyes as I surrender to the music. When I open them, my gaze falls behind Lana, on the far wall near the entrance, landing on a very intense, focused set of blue eyes. They’re fixated right on me, watching my every move. My hips slow for a moment as I stare back at Tanner, but I don’t let myself lose pace. The Anya who walked onto this ship would falter. Gutsy Anya would finish off the performance with a bang, and I want to be Gutsy Anya.

  The song’s bridge begins and I slide the microphone off the stand and strut down the stage’s front steps, toward Lana. She’s pumping her fist in the air, thrilled that I’ve yielded to Gutsy Anya, but it’s not Lana I stroll toward. I wink in her direction and slip around our booth to step in front of Tanner, who’s smiling down at me with acute interest. I sway in front of him and hold his gaze.

  The chorus resumes and I unravel my scarf, playfully sliding it over his shoulder. I turn and place my back to his chest, feeling the warmth of his firm hand move to cup the side of my elbow. I glance over my shoulder and peek up, and my eyes latch onto his. Raw, sizzling desire burns there, mixed with a glimmer of humor. I can feel every eye in the room on us, but Tanner’s are penetrating, locking me in a complete standstill. I’m dazed for a second but quickly snap myself out of it to return to the stage as I hear the song coming to an end. A lively bout of applause follows my performance, and the second the microphone is back on its stand, I duck my head and hurry back to the table, where Tanner now sits with Lana.

  “That was quite the show, Miss Banks,” he says, standing to meet me.

  “You were a rock star, woman!” Lana high fives me and suddenly all I want to do is hide under the table. The rush of confidence has faded, and now Tanner Christensen is here, staring me down.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask him,
hoping to change the subject.

  “Just doing my evening rounds. It looks like you ladies are having a great time.”

  “That we are,” Lana chirps, sipping her drink.

  “I hate to intrude on girls’ night,” Tanner glances at Lana, “but would you mind if I stole Anya away for a few hours?”

  Lana jumps in before I have a second to speak. “Are you kiddin’? Whisk her away as long as you want, Mr. Christensen. She’s all yours.”

  “I am?”

  “You are.” She smiles sweetly and nods to Tanner. “Have fun, An.”

  I look to Tanner and he extends his arm with an expectant smirk. I can’t resist that smile, or those damned blue eyes, or that suit, or that insanely sexy body, so I step forward and slip my arm in his.

  “Where to?” I ask as he escorts me out of the lounge.

  “My place.”

  “Your place?”

  He nods and keeps a firm grip on my arm, leading me toward the elevator.

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you until tomorrow night.”

  “I wasn’t expecting to see you, either. I’m glad I did. I realize now I don’t want to wait.”

  The elevator doors open and a couple steps out, leaving us with the space.

  “You couldn’t wait one night?” I laugh, letting him take my hand to lead me inside.

  “Not for this,” he says the second the doors close. He presses me against the cool metal. A quiet gasp breaks free and my shoulders tense up as his mouth connects with mine. The heat of his lips melts away the tension and I sink into him, sparks of energy crackling against his touch. His body curves and fits with mine, locking me in a tight embrace. His tongue explores mine as he brings his hand up to rub my earlobe between the pads of his fingers. I reach for his shoulders and his tall body leans forward and presses me further back. What is it with this man and public places?