Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads

by Nicole Morgan

  “You think he’ll care?” The piano player was hamming it up on the latest song, playing to the audience who ate up every exaggerated expression and goofy grin.

  Juanita chuckled. “I guess not.” She scrawled a few words, then folded the slip and wrapped a bill around it without letting Ryan glimpse what she’d written.

  His side felt cold and bereft while she went to deposit it in one of the bowls on the bar. When she settled back against him, he wrapped an arm around her. “See? That wasn’t hard.”

  She shot him a scowl, then returned her attention to the performer.

  After that, every time he chose a slip she tensed, then sagged when he launched into the music. At last, as the tinkling notes rang out, she straightened with an indrawn breath.

  Ryan recognized the melody. “‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon’? Really?”

  “Hush. I like it.” She made a peremptory shushing gesture as she sang softly along with the pianist. She knew every word of every verse, Ryan observed.

  He’d never paid much attention to the lyrics of the old song before. But as he listened to the story the song told, he understood. The narrator was a man who’d served a three-year prison sentence. Now he was on his way home, uncertain if the lover he’d left behind would welcome or reject him. The yellow ribbon of the title was how she would let him know, without having to face him or speak to him, whether she wanted him to come back or to stay away.

  Ryan wondered if Juanita was consciously aware of the parallels to her own situation, or if she just related to the yearning uncertainty of the emotion. She must wonder what kind of reception she’d receive when she returned to the country that had rejected her. Would she be welcomed home, or would her erstwhile friends and neighbors turn their backs and send her on her way? The man in the song couldn’t bear to look as his bus approached the destination that would determine his fate.

  The song, at least, had a happy ending. Juanita’s voice choked up on the final words. Ryan pretended not to notice when she scrubbed tears from her eyes.

  They stayed snuggled on the couch through another dozen songs, until the piano player brought his last set to a close. As the crowd dispersed, Ryan reluctantly urged Juanita to her feet. “Come on. Let’s head back to our room.”

  She yawned and nodded. “I was half asleep.”

  “I noticed.” He’d treasured the way she slumped against him in unthinking trust as her eyes drifted closed. “Your bed will be a lot more comfortable than that couch.”

  “It wasn’t bad.” But she followed without protest as he headed for the elevator.

  Back on the tenth floor, Ryan slid his card into the slot on the door and pushed it open. He flipped the lights on as Juanita trailed in behind him and let the door swing shut.

  He bustled around, moving the items they’d left on the couch into the cabinets and rearranging the cushions. “There are enough pillows here for a whole family,” he commented as he took one from the bed. “And Carmen said it was warm enough with just the comforter when I took the blanket. Although if you get chilly, I can make do without.”

  “No, take it,” she insisted, as he’d known she would. “Are you sure you don’t want the sheet, too?”

  “You keep it.” Ryan busied himself tucking the blanket around the couch cushions. “I’ve been fine the past two nights; I’ll survive the rest.”

  “If you’re sure.” Juanita hesitated, then took a step toward him. “Ryan, if—”

  He cut her off. Whatever she’d been about to offer, he couldn’t let her. “Look, I’m going to take my Kindle and go find a place to read for a while.” He suited actions to words, picking the tablet up from the counter where he’d left it that morning. “You take your time getting settled. I’ll give you plenty long enough to get to sleep before I come back. I promise to be quiet so I won’t wake you up.” He grinned at her, trying to make it look cheerful and relaxed.

  “You don’t have to—”

  The smile fell from Ryan’s face. He reached out and cupped her cheek, letting a little of the dangerous desire he felt come through in the touch and his voice. “Yes, Juanita. I think I do.”

  She pressed her cheek into his palm and sighed. “Okay.”

  Ryan turned the caress into a pat and turned to go. As he eased the door shut, he glimpsed Juanita heading into the bathroom.

  Yes, this was the right course. She’d be far more comfortable getting ready for bed in privacy than if she had to worry about him lurking around. She could relax into sleep without his presence disturbing her.

  He wouldn’t have to lie awake on the couch, listening to her breathe, wondering if she was still awake. Wondering if she was thinking about him. Wondering how she would react if he left the warmth of his blanket and slipped between the cool sheets…

  A deck chair near the stern gave him a good view of the stars. Eventually he was able to concentrate on the new mystery by one of his favorite authors enough to enjoy a few chapters. He read until the moon was long set and the last of the ship’s workers had finished their cleaning rounds.

  Finally, when his eyes wouldn’t stay open any longer, he stumbled back to their room. He cracked the door and peered inside. Everything was dark. A long, still lump under the bedcovers emitted deep, slow breaths. He used the bathroom and brushed his teeth without turning on the lights. Then he settled on the couch, wrapped the blanket around him, and listened to Juanita breathing until he fell asleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  J uanita opened her eyes to find golden sunshine streaming into the room. The curtains still shrouded the windows that spanned the outer wall, but they’d been pushed back at the far end to expose the balcony door. From the angle and brightness of the light, she’d slept late.

  She caught her breath and peeked over her shoulder at the couch. It was empty. The blanket was folded into a neat square with the pillow on top. Ryan was nowhere to be seen.

  Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of bed and hurried to the closet that held her suitcase. Ryan might return at any moment, and she wanted to be dressed first. The nightclothes Carmen had packed were a pair of loose cotton shorts and a camisole. Far too revealing to wear in front of a stranger.

  That’s what Ryan still was, no matter what they’d done yesterday. Juanita’s stomach twisted, remembering. She’d been totally shameless. Had she really pushed him into kissing her far beyond what their pretense required? Had she really snuggled with him and fallen asleep on his shoulder? Had she really come within a hair of inviting him to share her bed? If he hadn’t interrupted her and fled, who knew what else she might have ended up pressuring him to do.

  She was lucky he was so decent. A less scrupulous man would have taken advantage of her neediness. Now that she’d had a chance to recover her emotional equilibrium after the terror and heady release of yesterday, she could go back to acting like herself. Which did not include trying to seduce a man she’d only known for a few hours.

  Juanita didn’t rush into relationships. Or anything else important. She was cautious and patient and considered all her options carefully before making a decision. Always before she’d taken a long time getting to know a man prior to any physical involvement. She’d watched and listened and meticulously weighed the evidence to judge whether he was the sort of person she could trust with her body and heart.

  Which was why there had only been the three of them. Juanita didn’t consider any of them mistakes. Learning experiences, maybe. In hindsight she could see the factors that had doomed each relationship before it started. She’d added those elements to her list of signs to watch out for.

  In the three years since she’d broken up with Javier, no man had passed her preliminary screening. Occasionally she’d wistfully considered loosening her standards a little, but she’d always decided to hold firm. Better to be lonely than to have a guy grow bored with you after a few months, the way Jacob had. Or to realize you had incompatible dreams for the future, like her and Davis. Or to discover you were a lower pr
iority in a man’s life than his friends or job or sports or pretty much anything else, as had been the case with Javier.

  She wasn’t going to settle for anything less than a solid, committed relationship from now on. A man would have to convince her his feelings for her were strong and their future together was important to him before she’d even think about sleeping with him. That wasn’t something that could happen in only five days. So no matter how attracted she was to Ryan, she needed to take a step back and cool things off. If he really was as decent as he seemed on the surface, he’d accept that.

  Pleased with her decision, Juanita chose a pair of blue shorts and a floral-patterned knit top and took them into the bathroom. After a quick shower, she donned them. The blow dryer the cruise line provided produced only a pitifully weak stream of air, so her thick hair was still damp when she gave up and threw it into a loose ponytail. It would just have to air dry the rest of the way. No one would care if her appearance was less than polished.

  There was still no sign of Ryan when she emerged. Maybe he’d gone to breakfast without her. If it weren’t for the folded blanket, she’d wonder if he’d ever made it back to the room last night.

  According to the schedule, they were supposed to be in port in Belize already. She couldn’t tell if the ship was moving or still. So she headed to the balcony door and peered through the glass. Across an expanse of water was a shoreline covered with tropical vegetation and a cluster of brightly colored buildings. She pulled the door open and stepped out into the cool, breezy sunshine.

  “Good morning,” Ryan’s voice said. She jumped and whirled to face him. He was lounging in one of the two chairs that flanked a small table, his feet propped on the balcony rail. He waved lazily at her. “Sorry to startle you. I figured you’d appreciate it if I stayed out here until you were up.”

  Juanita fought to slow her breathing. “Um, yes. That was thoughtful of you. Thanks.”

  “It’s not like it was a hardship.” Ryan made a sweeping gesture that encompassed the lovely scenery and pleasant weather. “This is a welcome contrast to the cold gray drizzle we had in Houston all last week.”

  She grimaced. “I hope it warms up by the time we get back.”

  “The forecast looked promising.” Ryan glanced at his watch. “We still have time to make it to breakfast in the dining room. Or we could order room service if you’d rather.”

  Juanita leaned on the railing and stared out at the shore. Being with Ryan was reminding her why she’d acted so out of character yesterday. His warm voice resonated in her belly. The sunlight on his face made her want to spend a long time gazing at it. The wind teasing his hair made her want to run her fingers through it. If it wouldn’t be wildly inappropriate, she’d plop down in his lap and twine her arms around his neck.

  She kept her voice light and casual. “The dining room sounds good.” Going out in public carried risks. They would need to continue their charade of being a couple. But being alone in private posed dangers as well. All in all, Juanita thought venturing out was the safer option.

  “We should get going, then.” Ryan jumped to his feet. Today he was wearing denim shorts and a Rockets t-shirt. “They close in half an hour. I need to take care of something first, though. Our cabin steward will be here to clean before we get back.”

  He hurried into the room. Juanita followed close behind. Ryan swept the comforter off the bed and scooped up the blanket from the couch, shaking it from its folds. Juanita helped him spread it over the bed and tuck it in, then replace the comforter. Ryan dumped all but two pillows onto the floor between the bed and the curtains, adding the one from the couch. Then he pushed the covers into rumpled disarray on both sides of the bed.

  He surveyed his handiwork. “So what do you think? Does it look like two people slept there?”

  Juanita didn’t trust her voice. It did. She could imagine Ryan beside her there with no trouble at all. She nodded.

  “Good.” Ryan scanned the entire room, then echoed her nod. “Let’s go.”

  Juanita had to stretch her legs to keep up with his long strides down the corridor. She didn’t mind, because their speed precluded conversation. They arrived in the dining room with plenty of time to spare. The hostess seated them at a long table with a number of other couples. Introductions and casual chitchat kept Ryan occupied and left Juanita free to study the menu.

  She ordered tomato soup and a bagel with cream cheese and smoked salmon. Ryan ordered an omelette. Everything lived up to the previous night’s standards. Juanita kept her mouth full so Ryan wouldn’t expect her to talk. Although since he was busy eating, too, it probably wasn’t necessary.

  But when their plates were nearly empty he leaned forward, and she couldn’t avoid him any longer. “So what would you like to do today? Since we’re not going ashore, I figured we could enjoy some of the activities on the ship. There are a bunch of fun things up on the top deck. Then this afternoon maybe we can swim.”

  “That sounds good.” Juanita had eyed the towering tangle of water slides with interest every time they’d passed. She glanced at their neighbors on either side. None of them were paying attention, so she risked dropping her voice. “If Carmen packed me a bathing suit.”

  “She said she was going to.” Ryan kept his voice equally quiet. “You can check when we get back to the room.”

  “All right, then. It’s a plan.”

  They rode the elevator up and emerged into the bright sunlight on the Lido deck, then climbed two flights of stairs up to the recreation area. Juanita caught her breath at the sight of a ropes course circling the perimeter over their heads. “I’ve always wanted to try one of those.”

  Ryan pulled a flyer out of his pocket and scanned the schedule. “Looks like they open in an hour. Want to play a round of miniature golf while we’re waiting?”

  “You’re on.” Juanita claimed a club and ball from a rack near the beginning of the course. The first green was empty, although a few people were playing at some of the other holes scattered around the deck. “I’m warning you, though, I play a mean game of putt-putt.”

  “That sounds like a challenge.” Ryan’s eyes lit up. “Care to make a friendly wager on the outcome?”

  “I’m game.” Juanita tilted her head. “What should we bet?” She flushed and looked aside. “Not money.”

  “Of course not. I was thinking something more personal.” He glanced around and lowered his voice. “Winner gets the bed, loser gets the couch?”

  Juanita considered. “That’s good for you, but not so much for me. If I win, the status quo doesn’t change.”

  “You’ve got a point.” Ryan thought for a moment. “All right. How about this? If I win, I get the bed and you get the couch. If you win, I buy you a drink tonight. I saw some that looked awfully yummy.”

  “Sounds fair. You’re on.” Juanita set her ball on the starting dimple, studied the fairly simple layout of the green, lined up her club, and swung. Her ball struck the angled wall just where she’d aimed and rolled to a stop about a foot from the hole. “Your turn.”

  “Not bad,” Ryan allowed. He took his time making his shot. His ball halted a bit farther from the cup than Juanita’s. Both of them made their second putts.

  They stayed even through the next several holes. Juanita gained a shot when Ryan missed a long putt, but lost it when she overestimated the strength of swing needed to propel her ball up and over a hill and sent it flying out of the green. Both of them did badly on a green with a complex series of gates, taking so many shots without scoring that eventually they agreed to call it a draw and move on to the next hole. Ryan sank a perfect hole-in-one across a bridge and through a tunnel, while Juanita made one by precisely judging the angle needed to send her ball zigzagging between blue-painted “water” hazards.

  Coming into the last hole, they were tied. Juanita examined the elaborate construction, frowning. It started on the small deck above, next to the ropes course entrance. She would need to hit the ball th
rough a hole that fed into a pipe. Then it would roll down a long spiral inside a transparent plastic tube and emerge onto the lower green. Only luck would determine where it ended up.

  “Want to concede?” Ryan murmured into her ear.

  The touch of his breath on her neck sent shivers through Juanita’s body. She hid her reaction. “No way. Do you?”

  “Never.” Ryan patted her shoulder and turned to climb the stairs to the upper portion of the green.

  It was his turn to go first. He placed his ball and squinted down the green. “Don’t worry. The couch is perfectly comfortable. And they say sleeping on a hard surface is great for your back.” He drew his club back and swung.

  Juanita held her breath as his ball shot toward the entrance to the pipe. Was it rolling at a tiny angle?

  She crowed as it clipped the side of the hole and bounced away. “Strawberry daiquiri, here I come.”

  “Don’t count your daiquiris before they’re poured.” Ryan stepped out of her way. “Let’s see you do it.”

  “Better keep your eye on my ball, then.” Juanita didn’t let herself overthink. She placed her ball, sighted quickly, and gave it a solid tap. It rolled in a beautifully straight line, directly into the pipe.

  She rushed to the railing and leaned over to watch it spiral down. At the bottom it shot from the pipe, crossed the green, ricocheted from the far wall, and headed directly for the hole. Juanita clutched the railing. Ryan leaned beside her to watch.

  Her ball dipped into the hole and popped out, rolling a good two feet away before it stopped.

  “Darn it!” Juanita stormed back to the beginning of the green and stood with her hands on her hips. “Go ahead. Take your turn.”

  Ryan grinned at her. “‘Darn it?’ Really?”

  “I don’t swear very often.” Juanita scowled at him. “Only for important things.”

  “You don’t consider our game important?” he asked in a tone of mock injury.

  Juanita assumed an attitude of equally fake primness. “Not enough to dirty my pristine mouth with foul language.”