The conversation wandered to lighter topics. Dave and Nancy enthusiastically described their morning snorkeling and the tequila tasting that had followed. Ryan described the shops they’d visited and the gifts they’d bought. Juanita contributed, too, only a little at first, but more as she relaxed. By the time the appetizers arrived she was almost comfortable. Her cream of mushroom soup was so delicious it banished the last of the nervousness that had been suppressing her appetite. She devoured it eagerly.
“Trade bites?” Ryan asked, holding out his spoon.
Juanita eyed the dark lump cradled in it with a mixture of fascination and disgust. “It’s a snail.”
“Well, yes, but it tastes great. Lots of butter and garlic. Come on. You’ll never know whether or not you like it unless you try it.”
“I think you must have read Green Eggs and Ham a few too many times when you were a kid.” Juanita shuddered.
Ryan grinned. “Actually, I just want to sample your soup, and it won’t be fair unless I let you have some of mine in return.”
“You’re welcome to a bite. No strings attached.” Juanita scooped up a spoonful and offered it to him.
“I insist.” Ryan stubbornly refused to take the spoon she held out, extending his insistently.
Juanita rolled her eyes. “Fine. Whatever.” She took the spoon, scowling.
Ryan accepted hers and held it poised. “Go on.”
The scent rising from the bite of escargot wasn’t that bad. In fact, it smelled yummy, rich and garlicky. The blob of snail meat swam in a pool of melted butter. Surely anything with that much butter couldn’t be completely awful. Juanita grimaced, took a deep breath, and stuck the spoon in her mouth.
Ryan sipped her soup, watching her closely. “So?”
Juanita chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. “It’s not horrible,” she allowed.
He grinned. “Told you you’d like it.”
“I didn’t say I liked it. I’m not going to be ordering it for myself anytime soon. But I didn’t hate it, either. Does that satisfy you?”
“It does.” Ryan kept her spoon, using it to scoop up another snail from his plate.
She used his to finish her soup. The serving was small enough that it really wouldn’t have been a big deal to order another appetizer as well. Emil had brought Dave his two choices without comment. Dave and Nancy were sharing bites also, critiquing the dishes and comparing them to others they’d tried.
Their entrees arrived immediately after Emil whisked their appetizer plates away. Ryan had taken Dave’s advice and gotten the prime rib. Juanita had no qualms about accepting the bites of rosy, fork-tender meat he offered. She shared her delicate, flaky fish with him in return. It was all wonderful, much better than any restaurant she’d been able to afford back in Houston.
A belly full of delicious food put her in such a mellow mood she didn’t even tense up when a photographer who was working his way around the room made it to their table. He gestured at Ryan and Dave. “Come around the table so I can get shots of you with your lovely ladies.”
Both of them complied. Dave crouched behind Nancy’s chair, and the photographer took several pictures. At his prompting, they looked lovingly at each other, then leaned in to kiss, the flash highlighting their cheeks and hair as the camera caught the moment.
So Juanita was prepared when Ryan knelt by her and the photographer motioned them together. She leaned into him, trying not to show her eagerness. But unlike their previous kisses, this one was brief and impersonal. Ryan’s lips barely brushed hers before he pulled away. Even when the photographer complained that he’d missed the shot and urged them to try again, Ryan only held his mouth motionless on hers. Confused and hurt, Juanita followed his lead and remained still. She fought the desire to press into him and turn the fake kiss real until the flash finally released them.
Ryan returned to his seat without so much as a pat on her shoulder. Juanita couldn’t understand what she’d done wrong. They’d been having such a good time. What had changed?
He must not have enjoyed their earlier kisses the way she had. He was telling her that he preferred to keep their act more reserved from now on. She must have pushed too hard, demanded too much, asked for things he had no interest in giving her. He’d been too polite to make a scene, but this signal was pretty clear. He didn’t want to engage in any more of the deep, intimate exchanges that had set Juanita’s body aflame with arousal. She didn’t understand how she could have misread his response so badly, but apparently she had. From now on she would have to respect his wishes and refrain from inviting any more intimacy than their cover demanded.
Emil arrived with the dessert menus. Studying hers distracted Juanita from the pain of that thought. Again everything sounded delicious. But she wasn’t hungry anymore, so she ordered a simple fruit plate. When it came, she nibbled a piece of fresh pineapple, unable to summon much enthusiasm even though it was perfectly ripe, a lovely combination of tart and sweet.
The conversation around the table fell silent as the others dug into their desserts. Ryan scooped up a deep brown spoonful from the ramekin Emil had brought him. As soon as the bite went into his mouth, he froze. Juanita watched his eyes widen and a slow grin spread across his face. He closed his eyes and swallowed, heaving a deep sigh. “Oh, my god. That’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” He jabbed his spoon back into the ramekin, heaping it full. “You’ve got to try this. It’s amazing.” He thrust the spoon at her.
“What is it?” She took the spoon, inhaling an intense aroma of chocolate.
“The menu called it Chocolate Melt-In-Your-Mouth Cake. But I think it’s a little bit of heaven in a bowl. Go on, taste it.” He watched her with breathless anticipation, as if witnessing her pleasure would be an even greater thrill than experiencing it himself.
His eagerness confused Juanita again. Could she have been wrong about how he felt? But the instant the chocolate touched her tongue, she forgot about such minor matters. He hadn’t exaggerated. If anything, he’d understated just how wonderful the intense flavor and rich, silky texture really were. She savored the way it melted on her tongue and slipped down her throat in a wave of delight. “Oh. Wow. You’re not kidding.”
He reclaimed his spoon, ate another bite, and held out the next one to her. She yearned toward it, but held herself back. “It’s yours. You don’t have to share.”
“I want to.” He waved the spoon under her nose.
The scent undermined all Juanita’s good intentions. She opened her lips and took the soft chocolate into her mouth, closing her eyes to better appreciate every exquisite moment. “Mmm.”
“I agree. Words can’t do it justice.” Juanita opened her eyes in time to watch him take his next bite. Rapture was written in the slow, lingering way his mouth closed around the spoon, the care with which he sucked every last morsel from the metal, and the deep inhale before he swallowed. She watched, mesmerized, her pulse accelerating. Was this how he looked when…
He offered her another spoonful. Juanita was far past any manners or sense of fairness that might have prompted her to refuse. She made no attempt to hide her enjoyment from him as the taste of chocolate exploded through her, filling all her senses. Let him see it on her face as clearly as she saw it on his.
He fed them alternating bites. Neither of them took their gaze off the other except to close their eyes in brief moments of rapturous appreciation. Juanita floated in a dreamy daze. Nothing existed except her and Ryan and the spoon of chocolate moving back and forth between them. Her lips opened and closed, her throat swallowed, and warm, rich pleasure suffused her body. The same pleasure shone in Ryan’s eyes. She drank it in along with her own.
At last they reached the bottom of the ramekin. Ryan scraped out the final spoonful and offered it to her. She gazed at it, nearly surfeited, but still craving one more taste. “You should eat it,” she whispered. “It’s yours.”
“I’d rather watch you,” he said, equally soft.
Juanita surrendered, making sure every last bit of her pleasure showed on her face for him to vicariously experience. He sighed, long and deep. Then he placed the spoon on the plate and sat back, wiping his mouth with his napkin. Juanita raised her own napkin to her lips, though she was certain she hadn’t allowed a single smudge of chocolate to remain there.
Beside her, Nancy said, “They have it on the menu every night.”
Juanita startled guiltily. She’d completely forgotten the other couple’s presence. Her cheeks heated. Although surely there had been nothing inappropriate for them to see. Just she and Ryan sharing a dessert. That’s all.
Dave added, “Tomorrow you’ll have to each get one, so you don’t have to share.”
Juanita nodded. Ryan cleared his throat before he spoke, but his voice was still rough. “I didn’t mind.”
“Two would have been too much.” Juanita caught his gaze and held it. “One was the perfect amount.”
He swallowed. “I agree.” He managed a smile. “I think you liked it more than I did.”
“I don’t know. You certainly seemed to be enjoying it.” Juanita’s lips curved involuntarily as his smile widened.
Dave coughed and set his napkin on the table. “Well, I think we’ll be on our way.” He glanced at his watch. “The show starts in fifteen minutes. We’ll have to hurry if we want to get good seats. Are you two going?”
“We wouldn’t miss it. But don’t wait for us.” Ryan waved at him. “We’ll finish off Carmen’s fruit before we head over.”
Nancy rose, beaming at them. “I hope we see you again tomorrow. It’s been lovely to have another couple to talk with.”
Juanita smiled back at her. “I’m sure we will.”
“See?” Ryan said. “I told you you’d like the dining room much better than the buffet.”
“You were right.” Juanita didn’t remember until after she answered that she’d never actually eaten at the buffet to have a basis for comparison. But it couldn’t possibly be better than this. She was sorry that Carmen had missed out. She’d have to take her sister out to an expensive restaurant to make it up to her, after she got home. In the warm, satisfied glow filling her, the thought didn’t provoke any fear or doubt. With Ryan’s help, she’d make it home safely. She was sure of it.
She passed Ryan a strawberry and took one for herself, waving to Dave and Nancy as they left.
CHAPTER 7
Ryan spent most of the show watching Juanita. From the moment it started, all her attention was focused on the stage. The evening’s theme was Motown music. Juanita swayed and bobbed her head and mouthed the words. When the audience was invited to stand and join the performers in a simple dance, she responded with enthusiasm. Ryan learned the moves, too, but beside her lithe grace he felt heavy and clumsy. She didn’t seem to care, though, dragging him back to his feet when he flagged and started to sit down.
Afterwards, they filtered out of the theater with the rest of the crowd. As Ryan led the way outside to the deck that circled the fifth floor, she kept up a running commentary of her opinions. “The girl who sang ‘You Can’t Hurry Love’ and ‘My Guy’ was by far the best of them. Although the guy who sang ‘The Tracks of My Tears’ was pretty good, too. Their duet on ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ was amazing. I think my favorite part, though, were the numbers all four guys sang together, ‘I’ll Be There’ and ‘Just My Imagination’ and ‘My Girl.’ They had great balance and blend. And all the dancing was great.” She grimaced. “The story linking them together was pretty lame, though. They’d have been better off just doing a straight revue if that was the best plot they could come up with. I actually think most of them were decent actors. I wish they’d had better material to work with.”
Ryan made noises of agreement whenever she paused for breath. It fascinated him how much depth and detail she’d perceived in what to him had been little different than listening to the oldies station on the radio.
She abruptly ran out of steam, spreading her hands in a sheepish shrug. “I must be boring you to death.”
“No, I’m interested,” he protested. “I mean, I’m not much of a music person. I like it, but I don’t know a lot about it. But when you talk about it, I understand what you’re getting at. Like, I never would have known what it was about the guys’ quartet numbers that made them so good, but you’re absolutely right; they were great.”
She glowed at the compliment. They’d reached a section of the deck away from most of the lights, and only a few other passengers were nearby. Ryan turned aside and leaned on the railing, and Juanita joined him. The night was breezy enough to be chilly. She switched sides so she was downwind of him and huddled against his side. “I should have brought a jacket. I think I saw one of mine hanging in the closet.”
“We can go back to our room and get it if you’d like.”
“No, I’m fine. Just don’t move.”
“I won’t.” Ryan hesitated, then put an arm around her shoulders. “Is this better?”
“Much. Thank you.” She pressed into him, warm and soft.
Ryan swallowed and looked out over the dark ocean. The crescent moon was sinking toward the horizon ahead of them. Its light made a path across the water, catching the foamy crests of waves in flashes of silver. Below, the ship’s wake churned and splashed, throwing up bursts of spray that occasionally flew high enough to reach them. He pulled Juanita closer and brushed a droplet from her nose. “Let me know when you’re ready to go inside.”
“I will.” But she didn’t seem inclined to flee back to warmer, dryer environs.
Both of them were quiet for a while. Ryan enjoyed watching the constantly varied motion of the waves and gazing up at the stars, so numerous and brilliant here, far from city lights. But his eyes kept straying back to Juanita’s profile. She drew him like a magnet.
He didn’t understand how he’d come to feel so strongly about her in such a short time. Part of it was undoubtedly due to the danger they’d shared and the elation of making it safely through their first obstacle. Adrenaline and endorphins made a powerful mix. But he didn’t think that was the whole explanation.
If Carmen had been the sister he’d accompanied back to the ship, the one he’d helped find the courage to brave her fears, the one standing beside him now, he wouldn’t feel this way. In the pleasant day and half they’d spent on the ship together, he’d never once had any impulse to stray beyond the bounds of friendship. They’d played their roles earnestly, holding hands and gazing at each other and sharing occasional kisses. But acting was all it had been. While that first light brush of Juanita’s lips had woken something in him that wasn’t going back to sleep anytime soon.
Which created all sorts of problems he hadn’t anticipated.
Eventually Juanita started to shiver. Ryan was pretty cold himself. He squeezed her shoulders. “Let’s see what’s going on inside.”
“I was about to say the same thing.” This time Juanita led the way, hurrying down the deck to a set of double sliding doors.
When they sighed open, the strains of a piano melody floated into the night. Juanita followed it like a bloodhound on a scent. The main promenade led through an area with chairs and tables, past a coffee shop, a pub, and the entrance to a nightclub filled with dancers, to an area crowded with blue velvet couches and small round tables. In the center, a man sang and played piano, fingers dancing on the keys. A narrow bar circled the instrument, lined with stools where people sat sipping drinks and singing along.
Juanita claimed a place on an empty couch and patted the seat beside her. “Let’s listen for a while.”
“If you insist.” The man’s voice was pleasant enough, not that Ryan was much of a judge. The current tune was familiar. Ryan didn’t know enough of the words to join the singing, but Juanita added her voice eagerly.
He leaned against the soft arm of the couch and propped his feet on a convenient footstool. Juanita stayed sitting up straight for a while, but as the songs went on, an ecl
ectic mix based on the listeners’ requests, her posture kept relaxing, until eventually she was reclining against him. He could feel her ribs flex when she took a breath and the vibration of the notes resonating in her chest.
The pianist stopped to take a drink and regale the crowd with a few funny stories. When he was ready to resume playing, he waved at one of the glass bowls where people had been depositing slips of paper on which they’d written names of songs. “Just a reminder, folks.” He extracted a slip and displayed it. “This is a suggestion.” He pulled out another, this one folded together with a dollar bill. “And this is a request.”
The crowd laughed and dug in pockets and purses for money. Juanita sighed and slumped against Ryan. The wistfulness in the sound caught at his heart. He pulled out his wallet and extracted a few bills. “Here. Request something you like.”
“I couldn’t.”
“I insist.” He pressed the money into her hand.
She still resisted. “Ryan, I can’t let you keep spending money on me. You must have already dropped a couple hundred dollars. It’s too much.”
He kept his voice quiet, speaking into her ear. “Hey, I’m enjoying a free cruise. It’s the least I can do.”
“But I’m not the one who paid for it.”
He dropped his voice even lower. “Your sister wouldn’t begrudge you a few songs. I’ve got plenty. I won’t miss it, I promise.”
She reluctantly closed her fingers around the bills. “All right. I guess.” She snagged a request slip and a golf pencil off the nearest table. With the tip poised over the paper, she chewed on her lip. Finally she glanced sheepishly at Ryan. “There’s one I’d like, but it’s corny.”
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