Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2)

by Rebecca Heflin

  But then again when didn’t she look stunning? Even at first morning light, eyes blurred with sleep, hair mussed, a feline smile of satisfaction on her lips, she dazzled. Before the pre-coffee grumpiness set in, that is.

  She turned to speak to someone behind her, then Jack Jeffries moved to her side.

  Nathan’s jaw clenched. Right. Talk about throwing a bucket of ice water over his head.

  Taking his arm, Laura let him escort her into the crowd, where she appeared perfectly at home playing kiss-kiss with the hoi polloi. The daughter of one of the world’s wealthiest families would no doubt attend such functions on a regular basis. She probably cut her teeth on the backbiting that goes on when those at the top of the wealth food chain gathered.

  But what rankled even more was the lengths she would go to, to get the Imperial Cruise account, including sleeping with the founder and CEO’s son and the company’s Vice President of Customer Relations. It wasn’t enough that her father and Jackson were best friends.

  He heard the hammer hit the last nail in the coffin.

  Jack and Laura made the rounds before heading over to the bar for a drink. Well, he’d promised Hawk he’d schmooze with Jack and schmooze he would. And as for Laura, the gloves were off.

  Laura ordered a martini and drummed her fingers on the bar. She dreaded these events like a shopaholic dreaded the words, ‘Your credit card has been declined.’ Not that the event wasn’t for a good cause, but all the glad-handing and ass-kissing that went on made her long for a shower. She glanced around the room. Jack was right. She knew most of the people there, and couldn’t count a genuine one among them. She felt a hand on the small of her back. Jack was the exception. Like his father, money hadn’t tainted him.

  She winced at her hypocritical thoughts. What was that saying, People in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones?

  “Jack.”

  Her hand froze in the process of reaching for her drink. She knew that voice all too well. The voice that had whispered delicious naughty phrases in her ear on so many occasions she’d lost count. What the hell was Nathan doing here?

  “Nathan.” Jack reached out his hand to give Nathan’s a shake. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Quite the event you have here,” he said, indicating the throng. He’d yet to look Laura’s way.

  “Thanks. It’s our fifth year, and we’re set to break another fundraising record. Nathan Maxwell, you remember Laura Armstrong. Laura, Nathan Maxwell.” He gestured between them.

  “I remember.” Nathan’s eyes glittered like two hard stones, so different from the warmth she’d grown used to seeing there. “But when we met, you had a different last name.”

  She winced, and slid Jack a glance. “Yes.” She played down the nerves, played up cool, taking a sip from her drink, even though she burned inside.

  He looked as urbane as usual in his well-tailored black suit, white shirt, and royal-blue tie. Where Jack appeared every inch the metrosexual, Nathan appeared every inch the testosterone-loaded male. Why she ever thought Nathan wasn’t her type, she’d never know.

  Jack laughed. “Well, this must be awkward.”

  “Not really,” Laura said. “What’s a little competition between friends?” She lifted an insolent shoulder.

  “Especially when that friend will stop at nothing to win.”

  “Every weapon in the arsenal, right, Nathan?” She lifted her glass, as if in a toast. She relished a challenge. Like facing a well-skilled opponent in a chess match, it only made the victory that much sweeter.

  Jack slipped his arm around Laura’s waist. Nathan’s eyes cut to Jack’s arm and then narrowed. Proprietary much? So Nathan was a little territorial, was he? She didn’t know how she felt about that.

  Part of her wanted to express her outrage at being considered an object to be possessed. Another part of her wanted to make him jealous. And yet another part of her . . . liked it.

  “And maybe some that aren’t.” Nathan turned his attention to Jack. “Hawk sends his regards. He had a conflict and couldn’t make it tonight.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, but glad you could make it instead. Come, let me introduce you around.” With his possessive hand still at her waist, Jack guided Laura along while he shepherded Nathan through the gauntlet of New York’s doyen and doyenne.

  She had to admit Nathan’s Southern charm disarmed even the most hardened hedgefunders and corporate raiders. It had worked on her, hadn’t it? And as charming as he was out of bed, he raised it to the tenth power in bed.

  She recalled one moment in particular, hands cuffed in his above her head, his body joined with hers. She felt an irresistible urge to fan herself. Was the air-conditioning on the fritz?

  “Laura? How about you?” Jack interrupted her torrid little walk down memory lane.

  “Hmm?”

  Jack chuckled. “Where were you?”

  “Oh. I’m sorry. What did I miss?”

  Nathan’s gaze said he knew exactly where she’d gone.

  Jack shook his head at the other men in the circle, as if to say, women. “We were talking about a game of golf this Saturday at Manhattan Woods. Nathan here hasn’t played since he left Atlanta. What do you say? Want to join?”

  Her first inclination was to decline, but then on second thought, did she really want Nathan and Jack palling around without her? “Sure. What time?”

  “I’ll see about a nine a.m. tee time. Anyone else care to join? Fill out the foursome?” Jack asked the others in the group, including a state senator who’d just recently been accused of sexting his children’s nanny. Ick.

  A chorus of disappointed no’s followed.

  “Well. Looks like a threesome, then,” Jack said with a smile.

  “Super,” came Nathan’s lackluster reply.

  Laura grinned. Check.

  Chapter 16

  Stepping out onto the Manhattan Woods Clubhouse terrace, Laura took in the view of the New York City skyline. Laura’s parents had been members of the private club since it opened in 1998. In fact, it had been the scene of Laura’s futile flirtations with Jack. It had also been the scene of the golf lessons she and Darcy took. That is before Darcy got bored and ditched her for riding lessons.

  Her mother had rarely played golf, if at all, preferring to sit on the terrace and gossip with the other country club wives. But she remembered her father bringing current and potential customers to the club to both impress and intimidate.

  She hadn’t been at the club in ages, choosing to avoid her parents and their haunts if at all possible. Besides, other than golf, the country club environment held little appeal for her.

  She heard the sound of footsteps and the unmistakable click of golf cleats. Turning, she let out a reluctant sigh. Nathan stood wearing a green golf shirt and navy slacks, a cap pulled down low over his face, looking like he could conquer anything the golf course threw at him.

  “Jack’s on his way. He ran into someone in the locker room,” Nathan said through tight lips.

  Laura could see the muscles working in his jaw. Well, even though she’d agreed to participate in this little outing, it wasn’t high on her list of where she’d rather be today either. She’d come out of self-preservation and a need to protect her territory. Nodding, she turned back to the view.

  She felt more than heard his presence close behind her. He leaned in, and she smelled his cologne. Flashes of naked bodies, hot kisses, and even hotter sex darted through her brain. Why did the sense of smell have to trigger such strong memories? Her stomach clenched and she closed her eyes.

  “You think you’ll win the Imperial account by playing the sex card?” he said sotto voce.

  She stiffened. That was rich. So he thought she was sleeping with Jack? And to get the Imperial account, no less. As if she’d need to sleep with him to get the business. If she weren’t so insulted she’d laugh at the absurdity.

  She could tell him he was wrong, but he wouldn’t believe it. She could tell him about Jack,
but he probably wouldn’t believe that either. Who would, really? Even so, it wasn’t her place to open that closet door.

  She was grateful now that Jack had stopped her that night, er, well, that him being gay stopped her, because now that’d she’d seen Nathan again, she realized she probably couldn’t have done the deed with Jack even if he wasn’t gay. Nathan had apparently spoiled her for all other men.

  Dammit.

  Well, let him think she and Jack were doing the deed. What did she care?

  Except that she did.

  A little.

  Okay, a lot. She cared a lot. And way more than she should.

  “Yes.” She faced him, pasting a brilliant smile on her lips. “I’ve been told that once men have sex with me they can’t deny me anything,” throwing what he’d once said to her back in his face. “Even multi-million dollar advertising accounts.”

  Before he could respond, Jack joined them on the terrace. “Good morning, Laura.” He leaned in to kiss her cheek and she glared directly into Nathan’s judging eyes.

  “Good morning, Jack.”

  “Let’s hit the driving range. I could use a warm up.”

  Nathan seethed as he followed Jack and Laura out to the driving range. He couldn’t help asking himself whether he resented her sly machinations to win the account or if he was just jealous.

  There was no denying his blood boiled to think of the two of them in bed. Of Jack’s hands on her. His mouth.

  Jealousy. Plain and simple.

  Then he thought about the bonus drifting out of reach, and with it, the loss of his grandmother’s farm. And the only stable home his sister had ever known. No. Definitely resentment.

  Okay. Both.

  If she’d had a penis, he wouldn’t even be having this internal monologue. Of course, if she’d had a penis he wouldn’t have experienced some of the best sex he’d ever had.

  In his life.

  Ever.

  His hands fisted at his side. He liked Jack. Looked forward to working with him if—when—Hawk got the account—and he didn’t want any tension between them.

  Laura stepped up to the practice tee and addressed the ball, her long legs and taut ass displayed to perfection in the white shorts she wore. The sound of her club hitting the ball made a satisfying whisk. She had a beautiful swing, he had to give her that. And not too shabby on the distance, either.

  Her hair, pulled back in her standard tail, draped across one shoulder. He remembered the silky feel of that hair, loose and tousled, as it draped across his face, his chest . . . and regions further south. He held back a groan.

  “Nathan?” Jack interrupted his thoughts. “You going to hit some balls?”

  “Yeah.” Nathan shifted uncomfortably before dropping a few balls at his feet. He felt stiff, not having played in several months. Relaxing his shoulders, he assumed his stance, and tried to put Laura and her little games—and her hair—out of his head.

  Like riding a bicycle, he thought as he found his swing. He watched as the ball flew past the three hundred yard marker.

  Jack emitted a sharp whistle. “Damn, Nathan. I thought you said you hadn’t played in a while. Even Tiger would envy that drive.”

  Jack stepped up to the tee and took a swing. The ball flew straight and true, landing just short of the three hundred yard marker.

  The three hit a few more balls, switching from woods to irons. Nathan kept his head down. Focusing on nothing but his swing. And sometimes Laura’s ass when she bent over to retrieve another ball. He was a man, after all.

  “It’s about tee time,” Jack said as he dropped his eight iron back in his bag.

  “I hear you’re looking for a fourth.”

  Nathan heard Laura gasp and he glanced up into her ashen face.

  “Father! What are you doing here?”

  Ah, the venerable Milton Armstrong.

  “I believe I’m a member of this club. I could ask the same of you.” He leveled her with a glare as if she’d been caught red-handed stealing from the cookie jar. “Your grandmother sends her regards, by the way.”

  “Yes. I received her . . . regards on the ship.”

  Milt pointed at her. “That mouth is why she disinherited you.”

  “No. She disinherited me because she couldn’t control me.”

  Jack stepped up and held out his hand to the tall, heavyset man with graying hair and a slight paunch. Good to see you, Milt.” The two men shook hands. “I invited Laura to play.”

  “I’d like to introduce you to Nathan Maxwell,” Jack continued. “Nathan recently moved to New York from Atlanta to join Hawk Media.” Jack turned to Nathan.

  Nathan shook Milton’s hand. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” He shot a glance at Laura. At least she had some color in her face now. And that color was beet red. If looks could kill, her father would be six feet under about now.

  Milton clapped Nathan on the shoulder as if they were old friends. “McCutcheon’s told me about you. So you’re the man who’ll be handling the Imperial account.”

  Nathan pasted a smile on his face, uncomfortable with Milton’s presumptuousness. “Well, first I have to convince both the Jeffries and Imperial’s board that Hawk Media is the agency for them.”

  Milton led Nathan away. “Oh, you’ll win the account. You can take that to the bank.” Nathan slid another glance at Laura. Her lips were pressed into a straight line, and her jaw looked like it would shatter if she clenched it any harder.

  What the hell was going on here?

  Laura stood frozen to the spot. She’d seen her father do some pretty underhanded things, but this topped them all.

  “Laura, I’m really sorry.” Jack stepped close, keeping his voice down. “I mentioned something to my father about our tee time and he must have told Milt. I had no idea he was going to be here.”

  “It’s fine. It’s not your fault.” It was so like her father to insert himself into the group. He had no shame. At least she’d been invited.

  “I could tell him you have a headache.”

  “No. Absolutely not.” She’d been shocked at first, but pissed and then some had taken its place. She’d be damned if she’d let him have his way and run her off.

  “All right, then.” He slung his arm over her shoulder. “Let’s go kick some golf course ass.”

  Nathan and her father were already at the first tee, and from her perspective looked to be yukking it up like two long-lost friends.

  “How about we make this interesting?” her father said as she and Jack approached. “Four person best ball, Nathan and me against you two. Losers buy lunch.”

  Laura rolled her eyes. Gee. Competitive much? Who could I possibly have gotten that from?

  “Unless you’re afraid of losing.” Her father directed this at her.

  She shrugged. “I’ve always been the better golfer.”

  Her father turned to Nathan, a smug smile on his lips. “Who wouldn’t be better if they hit the ball from the girlie tees?” He followed up with a chuckle.

  “All right, fine. I’ll hit from the big-boy tees.”

  “And no handicap,” her father added. “If you can’t run with the big dogs, you’d better stay on the porch. Right, Nathan?”

  Nathan didn’t know what the deal was between father and daughter, but he didn’t like Milton’s treatment of Laura, regardless of what she’d done. As far as he could tell, Milton was shaping up to be a first-class asshole.

  “Ladies first,” Nathan said with as warm a smile as he could muster.

  Laura grabbed a ball, a tee, and her driver out of her bag for the four hundred and twenty-six yard par four. After taking a couple of practice swings, she stepped up to the ball. She swung and drove the ball down the middle of the fairway about a hundred ninety yards from the tee.

  “Looking a little rusty, there,” Milt said as he took his position in the tee box without waiting for an invitation.

  Jack walked over and squeezed her arm. “Good job.”

  Milt�
��s tee shot sliced and landed just off the right fairway two hundred thirty yards out.

  “Now who’s looking a little rusty,” Laura said with a smirk, drawing a glower from Milton. “He always had a problem with his slice.”

  Jack took his place and drove the ball down the middle several yards past Laura’s.

  Nathan slapped Jack on the shoulder. “Nice,” he said then stepped into the tee box. He out-drove them all with a clean shot two hundred eighty-five yards down the fairway.

  “Ha, ha. I knew I’d picked you for a reason,” Milton said as he climbed into his golf cart, inviting Nathan to join him.

  Laura breezed past and climbed into the cart with Jack, her nose in the air.

  At the eleventh hole, Jack two-putted, giving Laura the hole, and putting them up by one over Nathan and Milton. She and Jack gave each other high fives, and she had to bite her tongue to keep from sticking it out at her father like an insolent twelve-year old.

  Jack stepped up behind her and whispered in her ear, “Way to go, Laura, ‘Jack Nicholas’ Armstrong.”

  She laughed and smacked him on the arm. Thank God for Jack’s soothing influence. Of course he was the one who’d gotten her into this golf game from hell in the first place. When this was over, there was a martini, or three, with her name all over it, or them.

  Nathan had been quiet the last few holes, only interacting when directly engaged. Probably wishing he’d stayed home and avoided the whole dysfunctional Armstrong father-daughter experience.

  The twelfth hole was a relatively short, straight-forward par three, except for the moat-like sand traps that surrounded the green. Selecting her four wood, she placed her tee and ball, took some practice swings, and drawing the club back, swung smooth and even, making contact with the ball. All eyes watched as the ball arced, hit the flagstick, and . . . landed in the cup.