It was true. Aaron was a prince of a man, not just her best friend. And tonight, she wanted to sleep with a prince.
Tonight, she would absolutely refuse to think. Just feel. Just feel. You’ve earned the right to just feel. Shut off your damn brain and just feel.
Later, maybe, she’d kick herself around the block, throw a hissy fit and probably pitch a shoe at her mirror. If anyone found out, she’d kiss off a million dollars—maybe two to five million if she lasted in a marriage with Porter for more than a year or two. What did Porter’s accountant admit in front of her? He was worth seventy-five million, give or take a few hundred-thousand, according to the accountant.
If she could just chip off a small piece of that…in exchange for maybe two to three years of making Porter feel young and sexy. What would that hurt? Certainly not Porter. Afterward, he’d replace her faster than it’d take to detail his Ferrari.
Three years? She’d be thirty-two, still young enough to marry for love, have kids. Is that what she really wanted? Right now, love was a luxury she couldn’t afford. She had to be practical.
The whole motherhood bit—no, don’t go there. Too scary.
But love…true love…yes, I’d like that someday.
Who’d be hurt? Not Porter. He knew the score. He was going into this marriage with his eyes open. He was as hard-nosed and pragmatic as she was.
Aaron? Would her prince be hurt? Tess grew still at the thought of Aaron and his creed. With her, it was all or nothing. He wouldn’t let her stomp on his heart again…
Oh God, would he ever forgive her? Would she lose him forever?
No, don’t think…just feel.
A sliver of golden light penetrated the cabin. She cocked open one eye. Aaron’s bed—empty and still made?
With a start, she bolted up and tore open the window drapes, then scrutinized her watch on the nightstand. Nearly eight o’clock.
Eight o’clock in the morning! Where was Aaron?
A broadcast interrupted over the loudspeakers, piped into the corridors and public rooms. It wasn’t clear, so Tess switched on the cabin’s TV and heard the news on the ship’s CCTV network. The ship’s captain was announcing their arrival in the Panama Canal zone. He invited passengers to watch the day-long passage through the Canal—the series of Gatun Locks, Gatun lake, then the Pedro Miguel and Miraflores Locks.
She hurriedly dressed in black shorts, red tank top and sandals. Fighting down panic and fear, she calmed herself a little by breathing deeply. Surely, there was an explanation. Surely, those two PIs hadn’t hurt Aaron. Oh, God no!
Then she snatched up her cell phone. About to call Aaron’s cell, she suddenly spied his phone on his side of the nightstand. A shiver of fear ran down her spine, then all the way up to her skull.
Dammit, Aaron! Where are you?
Chapter Eight
The bar in the Horizon Lounge was empty of passengers, their stage vacant except for Aaron’s baby grand and synthesizer and her standup mic. Eduardo, one of the two young Filipino bartenders who plied her and Aaron’s nightly audiences with alcoholic concoctions of all kinds, manned the bar with the distracted air of a bored man.
“Allo, Tess,” he greeted her effusively, “Ah, pretty woman, let me make you a vanilla latte or a caramel macchiato to start your day.”
She smiled and thanked him, ordering a skinny caramel macchiato and perching herself on the nearest bar stool. The infusion of caffeine would help her think more clearly and maybe tamp down the fear that fogged her mind.
“Eduardo, you were here last night. After I left—”
“Yes, Aaron said you felt ill.” The espresso machine came to life and began to make guttural and spitting sounds.
“After I left and Aaron closed up, did he say where he was going?” She hoped Sherry hadn’t shown up and lured him to her cabin. Not that Tess would blame him entirely if he’d gone, but her prince would certainly topple off his pedestal. Especially since they’d had their talk.
Eduardo looked thoughtful as he steamed the milk. One corner of the lounge drew his eyes and he pointed a finger in that direction.
“That old man who always sits over there. He comes every night and sits by himself, doesn’t talk to anyone. Wears a kinda hang-dog look. Well, last night was different. After Aaron played that song—that Josh Groban song…”
“Uh, ‘You Raise Me Up’? That one?”
“Yeah, that one. This old man sat there, crying, tears rolling down his face, crying quiet like. I sent one of the girls over to him…to see if he needed anything. I thought maybe he was sick…but he sent her away. Then, after the show, I saw him go up to Aaron. I could see he was still upset but at least he was talking to someone. He told Aaron that song was his son’s favorite. He lost his son earlier this year in a car crash. His wife died two years ago.”
“Oh, poor man…so what did Aaron do?”
Eduardo set the coffee drink on the bar in front of her. “He talked to this old man a long time…maybe an hour. I close up at one, so it was about that long. The two of them got up and left together. Aaron, so much taller than the old guy, had his hand—” Eduardo placed his left hand on his right shoulder—“like this. I think he was trying to make the man feel better.”
Tess sipped the strong, heavenly-sweet drink. So like soft-hearted Aaron. He wanted to help every sad, troubled soul who came down the pike. Herself included. If he hadn’t been blessed with musical talent and the heart of a poet, he surely would’ve become a minister.
“I think,” Eduardo added, “I heard Aaron say something about a game of poker. There was an all-night poker tournament going on.”
“You are awesome, Eduardo!” Tess finished her drink quickly and hopped off the stool. “See you tonight.” She halted after a few steps. “That couple at the bar—the woman with the long, dark hair and the tall, skinny guy?” Eduardo nodded. “Did you happen to notice if they left before Aaron and the old man had their talk?”
The bartender pursed his mouth tightly and tapped his chin with a metal coffee stirring spoon.
“That was strange, too. Usually, they leave together after your show’s over, but last night, the man stayed and had another drink. Then he left after Aaron and the old man.”
Tess thought so. They were dividing up, the brunette trying to track her to find out where her cabin was, most likely, and who visited there. The man stayed on Aaron’s trail. She assumed that the PI couple hoped to catch her and Aaron together, alone and if not “in flagrante delicto”, then at least in a public display of un-brotherly-un-sisterly affection. They would capture it in photo and send the proof to Porter, whose smartphone never left his pocket.
“Thanks. I’m off to find him. If he drops by this way before I’ve found him, tell him I’ll be waiting for him just outside the casino.”
The casino smoke harmed her vocal chords—her entire vocal apparatus, in fact—and Aaron’s, too. So why risk your voice just to hang with some old man? Except to Aaron, he wasn’t just some old man. He was a man who was apparently struggling to cope with some terrible tragedies.
When Tess arrived at the casino’s threshold, she paused. Exiting one of the nearby shops was the brunette PI, a fact which she filed away. She continued to ignore the brunette and moved inside the casino. Confronting the slightly smoky miasma inside the casino was not her favorite thing to do, but fortunately for smokers, it was one of the few public places on the ship that allowed it.
There he was. In shirt sleeves, rolled up to his elbows, Aaron sat at a table in the rear of the casino, behind the banks of slot machines and craps tables. Four other men held cards and all five looked bleary-eyed and haggard. Bottles of beer and shot glasses littered the green-baize covered table. It looked like Aaron had been playing poker all night. The other men looked like passengers. One of them, the white-haired man with bushy black eyebrows, was their lounge regular. Tess recognized him as the man forever ensconced in the corner of the Horizon Lounge, night after night, silently dri
nking and staring at them. With Aaron, the old man looked animated and actually smiled at something the younger man said just then.
Tess caught Aaron’s eye and raised her hands in a supplicating gesture, like “What the hell—?” His blue-eyed stare a little unfocused, Aaron pushed himself to his feet, shook hands all around, and spoke briefly to the white-haired man. Then he came over to her, his tux jacket carelessly draped over his shoulder.
“Hey, Red, whatchya doing?”
“Finding you. God, Aaron—” she leaned closer to him and lowered her voice to a whisper—“you had me scared. I woke up and saw your bed hadn’t been slept in. You should’ve told me.”
Sheepishly, he rested a hand on her shoulder, then trailed it teasingly down to her wrist and captured her hand. Caught up in the moment, she noticed his demeanor. His eyes were bloodshot, but there was an exhilarated air about him.
“Tess, you’ll never guess how much I won.”
She hated to play that game but went along, anyway. “Well, you’re excited so—what, a hundred bucks?”
He leaned back and rolled his eyes. “Jeez, I’m not that beggarly. You think I’d miss a whole night’s sleep for so little?”
She gave him her best smart-ass smile. “Well…yeah.”
Ignoring her gibe, he pulled out of his pocket a wad of hundred-dollar bills. “Three-thousand and change. I couldn’t draw a bad hand if I’d tried. It was one of those nights. I just couldn’t miss, but I’m wiped out. Ready to call it a night—” He glanced around. “—or call it a day.”
She grinned. “I’ll tell you later what you did miss out on.” He blinked uncomprehendingly, then stared incredulously at the wad of bills clutched in his hand, like a miner’s solid gold nugget that he’d just picked up out of the creek. In total disbelief that he’d had such great luck.
She looked over at the white-haired gent at the poker table and waved at him, then gently, she steered Aaron out of the casino. The brunette stood by the shop’s entrance, feigning interest in a window display. Tess almost didn’t care, she was so happy to have found Aaron safe and accounted for. And joyfully more prosperous.
“That old man at the table, he’s been at our show every night,” Aaron explained while they made their way to the staircase at mid-ships, “Last night, he broke down as I sang that Josh Groban number—”
“Yeah, Eduardo told me.”
One deck up, Aaron slumped over at the landing, panting. “…catch my breath…too much smoke…”
The brunette was following them up the stairs. When one of the elevators pinged open, an obvious solution to their being tailed, Tess practically pushed Aaron into it. Sure enough, the brunette’s head appeared at the lower landing just as their doors closed. Tess punched a series of numbers, so that the woman wouldn’t know which deck they were getting off at.
“Poor old guy, he’s depressed as hell. He’s lost his two sons, his wife of forty-four years, the people he loves most in this world, all in a span of five years. God, Red, I’ve hit the wall…” He leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Tess feared he’d slide all the way down to the floor and she’d never be able to get him up. “Anyway, we talked. He said I reminded him a little of his younger son…who was also a musician and wrote his own music. He’s become a fan, said he’s enjoying our shows.”
The doors opened and she seized his hand and yanked him out. “C’mon, let’s hurry to the cabin.”
She practically pushed him down the corridor, steering him into their stateroom after a rapid swipe of her card key. Home safe, she sighed. Then she went about gathering his tux jacket, trousers and black-buttoned shirt as soon as Aaron could strip them off. All the while listening to Aaron’s summary of his night trying to bolster the old man’s spirits. She took a whiff and crinkled up her nose. His clothes stank of smoke.
“It was good of you, Aaron, and see, God rewarded you for your compassion—here, I’ll give your tux to the room steward to clean and press. You’ll need it again tonight.”
Aaron plopped on his bed and pried off his shoes and socks. An ironic smile dimpled one cheek. “I don’t think God works that way,” he cracked, “but Red, it’s a nice idea.”
“Why not? Aren’t you the one always telling me that God works in mysterious ways? Or is that what people say when they have no other explanation?” She fished the wad of cash from the trouser pocket. “I’ll put this in the safe with my jewelry. Okay?”
Aaron fixed her with a weary look. “You can take that money and move into one of those vacant balcony staterooms. You’ll have privacy and you won’t have to worry about those PIs of Porter’s.”
Touched by his consideration and generosity, she reached over and stroked his stubbled chin. “Aw, screw those PIs. It’s very kind of you to offer, though.” Yep, Aaron was a prince of a man.
The room safe was hidden behind one of the closet cabinet doors. Tess deposited the cash inside, entered the four-digit code and shut it. Then turned back to Aaron, who was lying on his bed, his hands stacked beneath his head, his eyes heavy-lidded.
“Screw the PIs? Didn’t we just run to evade one of them?”
Tess shook her head. “Wow, Aaron, you don’t miss a thing, do you? Even when you’re wiped out. I’m hoping she thinks we went upstairs to the breakfast buffet.”
“Maybe so.” He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and yawned. “Just need a few hours’ sleep, then I’m good to go. So, Red, why not move into your own cabin and keep Porter happy?”
There he lay, in white briefs, oblivious to the effect he had on her in that moment. His eyes closed while his bare, muscular chest rose and fell. His biceps bunched as his arms pillowed his head. The blond hair on his chest, darker than his head hair, arrowed just below his rib cage and ran down the middle of his belly. Her gaze lingered on the clothed outline of his genitals. He had a partial erection, which drew her gaze longer than it should have. Unbidden, she thought of Porter’s body, the liver spots, the thick nest of black chest hair, the portly, hairy belly and low hanging testicles. It wasn’t his fault he had a fifty-one year-old’s body. It certainly wasn’t as bad as some old men’s bodies. But his body wasn’t Aaron’s.
He wasn’t Aaron. Her prince.
Pangs of guilt weighed her heart. She tried to rationalize away her feelings but couldn’t. The truth stared her starkly in the face.
“So, Red, why not keep Porter—your fiancé—happy?”
Aaron’s question hung in the air.
“Do you want me to?” she asked him, hitting the ball back to his court.
“No…” he rasped, opening his eyes and meeting her gaze. “I like you here…with me. It’s our last chance.”
“Last chance?”
“You know what I mean. Don’t pretend you don’t.”
That was all she needed to hear. Don’t think, just feel. You have the right to feel.
* * * *
In a half-sigh, half-cry, she dropped the clothes on the floor and, in two steps, was at the side of his bed. After gulping down an inner warning not to do what she was about to do, Tess lowered herself, full length, on top of Aaron.
“What—” Eyes, big and blue, snapped open.
She silenced him with her hungry mouth pressed against his, half open, his surprise cut short. His long, hard body felt divine, felt right under hers. Muscular, bare arms folded around her, their strength surprising her. Although he closed his eyes, he angled his face upward for another kiss. She obliged him. Silently, rapidly, they kissed deeply, then he commenced to tear off her clothes, surrendering to need and urgency. Aaron moved her beneath him and when she settled, she wrapped her legs around him, like it was second nature.
No more words. They’d said it all over the years, dancing around the truth like gypsies around a bed of burning coals. If they got scorched in the fire, too bad. It was as inevitable as a primal mating cry.
Tess clutched his head, digging fingers into his scalp, twining them into his short hair. His soft, wa
rm mouth claimed hers, their tongues mating hot and wet. His face buried in her hair as he breathed in, open-mouthed, her scent. Meanwhile, their hands roamed, kneaded each other’s flesh, pressed hard, then clasped and pulled. She felt his fingers inside her, and then it was her turn to squeeze her eyes shut.
As he slid inside, she gasped in delight. Aaron, the man, was bigger than the half boy, half man she’d seen but never got to experience fully. He filled her completely and made her crazy with desire. Taking cues from each other, they moved together as magically in sync as their musical rhythms. The raptured release shuddered through them as one.
Later, as they lay entwined and crushed together in Aaron’s small bed, Tess could hear his shallow breathing, feel his heart pulse against hers. His eyes were closed, leaking tears to mingle with her own.
“Why now?” he finally whispered. His warm breath feathered her ear, tickling a little. If this was happiness, then she was deliriously happy.
“Because you didn’t show up for the big seduction scene last night. Call it unbridled lust.”
“Why so long? Thirteen years?”
Grinning, she stretched languidly, her leg bending upward between his two legs. Her knee found his groin, making him tremble with pleasure.
“Aaron, we both had a lot of growing up to do. You’ve grown…very nicely.”
“So I’m no longer Skin?”
“Not even close…”
After a moment, he asked her, “You still wearing the old guy’s ring?”
Scheming and Dreaming in Los Angeles Page 9