by Shannyn Leah
Emma’s eyes darted around the room, and sure enough, more women than she could count were flickering their gazes between their company and Grayson...and he knew it.
“Since it looks like you’re on your own...” Grayson said, nodding at the exit where Melissa was leaving, her nose stuck in her phone.
That little trader.
“I was thinking we could check out the afternoon exercise classes.” He pulled out an agenda. “This is your thing, right? Yoga?” he asked, when she wrinkled her face at him. “Don’t you teach this crap at your resort?”
Her eyebrows perched. “Crap?”
Grayson shook his head. “No, not crap...stuff. Is that better?”
Emma shook her head. “What would be better, is if you didn’t insist on making me your three-week cruise target.”
Grayson didn’t look insulted.
Emma was finding it hard not to keep thinking about sex when this gorgeous specimen of a man was only inches away, smelling like a delicious summer fling and wanting to hang out with her for the day.
What did hanging out for the day mean to Grayson? Start with yoga and end in bed? In the closest private room they could find? Was that all this man was about?
Grayson leaned back in the chair, folding his thick arms across his wide chest. His face still held that beautiful smirk, like he was enjoying this confrontation, when she would have rather avoided it altogether.
“Did you ever consider I’m asking you out of obligation? You’re here as our guest, and we’re announcing our joint tours. Perhaps I would like to show you what the cruise is all about to give you an experience you can tell our future guests.”
Emma’s face dropped. Yeah, she hadn’t considered that. She may have if his approach had been different, or if he hadn’t been hitting on her last night.
“Is that why?” she asked, cautiously.
Grayson chuckled. The sound was music.
“Nah. I only wanted to ruffle your feathers and find out how many shades of red you’d spin on that pretty little face of yours if I turned this around on you.”
Emma glared.
“There are about six of them right now. And I’m pretty sure one was lust.”
Emma grabbed her plate. “No, you don’t think about sex at all.”
She walked away and hoped Mr. Arrogance didn’t follow.
Chapter Five
AFTER EMMA DENIED him, what would have been an incredible day of laughter, Grayson spent the afternoon with his aunt instead.
Linda was right, with no work to distract him, no meetings lined up and no dinners to attend, their time together was their own. Since Linda was new to cruises, they’d spent a lot of time exploring the ship. They hung out at the bars by each of the pools, lounged in the adult’s only retreat, walked through the sports area, and browsed the central piazza area. The piazza was a gorgeous, three-floored, open area of staircases and sitting areas attached to many of the amenities. The area boasted classy rich gold colors and sparkled with massive crystal chandeliers glistening off the glass railings and walls. Each spot was filled with entertainment and things to look at on all the floors.
They kept busy, but still Grayson’s thoughts returned to Emma. He’d anticipated Emma snubbing him before he even sat down at breakfast, but he couldn’t resist pestering her a little anyway. She was like the perfect wave his surfboard couldn’t catch. It didn’t help he wasn’t great on a board, but he was remarkable at picking up the ladies. Emma was proving to be a crashing delight of defiance.
Grayson and Linda were walking away from the emergency station...again.
“Did you take the safety drill when we boarded?” Grayson asked her. He’d been to every one as a child and knew them by heart, so he’d skipped it.
“Of course,” Linda said, eerily watching the water as they walked along the deck. “But I like to be prepared.”
After today, she was ten times more prepared than any staff member. If there was an emergency evacuation, if for some fluke reason the ship was sinking, Linda would be the woman able to get you off the ship safely in record time.
“I saw you chit-chatting with Emma a couple times last night,” Linda said. “Were you taking my advice, and finally ripping down some of those bricks you two keeping adding to the wall you both build to keep the other out?”
“You do know she can’t stand me, right?”
“So she says.”
“And acts.”
“I pretend I can’t stand Brock and Tom, but I love them both dearly. It’s a front sweetheart.” Linda patted his arm.
“That’s different. We’re family. Besides, if I did anything with Emma it would be what it is with the rest of the women, and I don’t mix business with pleasure.”
Linda rolled her eyes. “Yes, you do.”
“You would really want me to tarnish sweet little Emma with a one-time thing?”
“No, of course not.”
“You think she’s into that?”
“Grayson,” Linda scolded.
“I would be into that.”
Linda took a deep breath, and glared at him. She’d caught him turning this topic in a whole new direction.
“I do want you to open your heart to the possibility that there is someone out there for you. Just you. That one special woman who loves you for you and will be there for you.”
This wasn’t a new conversation for them. Bringing Emma into it was new, but the outline was a repeat of a once a week conversation he endured from her.
“I love that you care so much, but as I say every time you bring this up, I am not looking for a relationship and I don’t want one.”
“You’re afraid of one. I understand...”
She didn’t understand everything.
“...but sweetheart, I’m afraid when the girl who steals your heart actually shows up, you will miss her because you’ve closed yourself off to the possibility.”
Grayson stopped and stood in front of his aunt. “I honestly love that you have such high hopes for my love life, but I am not that guy. I am not the guy who has room to give a woman all of me, to love her and be there for her. It’s not about me missing the right woman. It’s about me not wanting her to find me.”
She frowned. “That’s sad.”
“It runs in our genes.”
She shook her head. “That’s a sad excuse to man up to your feelings.”
“There are no feelings.”
“There is a mountain behind that brick wall.”
Grayson pulled her back into a walk and led them into a small coffee shop, away from the threatening water and threatening conversation. They found an empty table and sat with their coffee. He needed a topic change.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. It had been plaguing him since last night, but Emma had stolen his thoughts most the night. Now was a good a time as ever to ask, and maybe without Brock and Tom prowling around behaving oddly, Grayson might get some real answers.
“Trying to overcome my fear of the water,” she answered, and almost sounding believable.
Linda appeared fearless on the outside and yet she harboured a phobia of water. It wasn’t like her to be afraid of something so rare as a sinking ship. But Linda was also stubborn, so her answer was plausible enough to convince Grayson.
“Do you know how many cruises your mother invited me on, and my fear of sinking left me alone on shore? So many moments that I passed up with her because I figured I had forever.”
Chills coursed through Grayson. His thoughts were a confusing mix. One part of his dad in him didn’t want to talk about his mom, and the other part, needing to hear every little detail about her. Confusing, like his mixed emotions about Emma. He chased and baited Emma like he wanted to dive into the closest bed with her, when his intentions weren’t about conquering her body. Although, last night wasn’t the first time the thought had popped into his head, it was the first time he’d allowed her to know it.
“Me too,” Grayson finally sa
id, and then he did something he’d never done before: opened up about his mom. He wasn’t sure where the words were coming from, from some deep part of him probably, where all her memories were buried. “The year she died I gave her a hard time for making me hang out for the toss of the lines. She called it a family tradition, but all I wanted to do was hit the arcade on the kid’s level.” A sad laugh escaped him. “She let me go win those petty, mundane prizes that usually ended up tossed overboard, or the small candies that lasted no longer than the time it took to unwrap them. And...”
Grayson rubbed his eyes, feeling water burn behind his eyelids. No wonder his dad didn’t talk about his mom, the memories caused uproar inside him, where a stable numbing usually lingered. Then again, his father had other reasons to want to forget his past wife.
Having enough of this, Grayson inhaled loudly, and went to stand, but Linda gripped his hand and forced him to look at her.
“And what?” she gently, but firmly pried.
He didn’t answer her and she didn’t waver.
“If you feel like crying Grayson, then let go. Maybe you didn’t cry enough when she died. Your dad has taught you to run away from this, your grief, your pain, and I never agreed with his method. You’re hiding and cowering and all three of you Cohen men do it. You can’t escape her death. Not talking about her, doesn’t take away your pain. It only masks it and I think it’s time to face it. Death is life and it will find you Grayson, whether you are prepared or not.” She paused to send him a reassuring smile. A smile so similar to his mother’s he almost keeled over in the coffee shop.
How would that have looked? Headlines plastered with his lifeless body on the floor? He could envision it already, drugs and drinking; the list of wrong accusations was endless.
“And what?” Linda pressed.
I haven’t been back to the toss of the lines or kid’s level since.
Grayson clenched his teeth. “I need a refill.”
He stood, and she let him go.
His throat constricted as he walked along the tile floor to the counter. He stood in the lineup, glancing down at the half-full mug shaking in his trembling hand.
Disgusted, he set the mug on the closest table and hightailed it out of the restaurant, leaving his aunt alone.
Running away. That’s what Cohens did best.
Grayson could hardly focus as he rounded corners, passed people and tried to escape the anguish swelling painfully his chest. His heartbeat increased so loudly, he didn’t hear the laughter or music around him. His tears blurred his surroundings. His body trembled and it all revolted him.
Was this what his dad had felt like when Grayson had been a child, begging for his mother to come back? All the times, Brock had yelled at him and walked away, it was no wonder. This hurt like hell. It was easier to forget, easier to let only particles of her memory into his daily thoughts. It was enough to remember, but not enough to feel this blood curdling pain.
He leaned his head on the cold doors of the elevator until they opened at his floor so close to a drink, or a shower, or something to distract him. His laptop was in his room, and over the years he’d found work was an excellent distraction. Work was his life. He often drowned himself in work, and right now work was the distraction he needed.
Grayson jumped off the elevator, and crashed into a body. Liquid sprayed between them, soaking his shirt. He didn’t care, a damp reminder of why talking about his mother was off limits.
A scream left his victim and he recognized the sweet sound.
Emma.
Right now, her presence did nothing to him. He was barely able to focus on the situation he’d created by slamming into her. If he’d been more cautious, he’d already be tucked away in his room, escaping people...hiding.
Water dripped between them. She held an empty cup, and stepped back to glare at him. He wished he could find the humor. He wished he’d noticed the cover-up she wore, which was not much more than a sheer piece of light pink material, giving a glimpse through to the swimsuit underneath.
“Sorry,” he muttered, walking past her.
His hands shook, searching the pockets of his shorts for the key to his room.
The guilt for the kid’s level, or the toss of the lines, was pebbles compared to the guilt he would never overcome, the guilt that consumed him: watching his mother go. When Susan needed someone to protect her, not only had her husband failed her, but Grayson had neglected her, too, sticking by the man who drove her away, who had broken her heart and who hadn’t stopped her either.
“Grayson, are you alright?” Emma had followed him. Now she followed him, the moment he needed space, his own area to scream or yell or...cry...whatever the hell he was feeling. What the hell was he feeling?
“Fine.”
Where was his damn key? Shirt pocket?
“You don’t look fine.”
He ignored her. Not in the shirt pocket. For the love of God. Why hadn’t he simply found a bar? A good shot would have hit the spot.
“Do you need help or−”
“You don’t actually care, so back off,” he growled.
Where was his key?
Emma didn’t cower away, or hide like the chicken he was. She was strong, and confident, he knew that from only watching her.
She stretched in front of him, facing him, and his door opened. She held up his swipe card. “You dropped this.”
Grayson blinked at the card, scarcely registering its rectangular shape and cruise logo. He looked past it at Emma’s smile...her genuine smile, the one not meant for him.
She was a good distraction. She was the best damn distraction he’d ever had. When life seemed to be too much, he would find himself at one of her mother’s events, and there was Emma waiting to give him a reality check, flaring him back into life. Right now, he needed to escape reality, and her flare was one he’d never fully experienced.
Without thinking, Grayson’s lips crashed down on hers. His hands cupped her soft face, giving his tongue more force to plunge deeper into her mouth. In the same instant, he took them both inside his stateroom.
This was what he needed. She was what he needed. How long had it been? Too long and he was craving the touch of a woman, craving touching a woman...and who would have thought this craving was amplified by the woman he was touching right now.
EMMA WAS LOST FOR A moment. Lost in the trembling of Grayson’s entire body and whatever sadness, pain or fear she’d seen in his eyes.
What had happened to put him in such a state?
Then she was lost in how delicious he tasted, a mixture of coffee and beer. Who would have thought? Delicious. Then there was how scorching hot his fingers burned the sides of her face and his tongue heated her mouth.
But only for a moment. A long moment.
Long enough to enter his cabin, shut the door and for him to pin her up against it. She’d never been pinned to a door by a man before, or anything for that matter. She never knew how erotic the pressure of a man’s body would feel against hers, lifting her, spreading her legs, until this moment. If was incredibly hot.
Somewhere, in the midst of her thoughts, she was glad she wore her cover-up, making it easy for Grayson to spread her legs, and fit his body between them. He felt so perfect against her, moulded to her like they were patterned just for one another.
And his hands...how had they touched so much of her body in such a short time? From her face, to her throat, across her shoulders and under her legs. His warmth burned desire straight up her thigh, heating the area between them. He hiked her even further up and her legs felt his warm stomach. She nearly moaned at the desire that shot through her. Her legs wrapped around him, feeling every flexing, taut, muscle beneath them. He felt as good as he looked.
His lips left hers and travelled down her throat. Hard, hot kisses ravished her, but somehow, her mind had a chance to catch up with what was happening.
What was happening?
Oh, for the love of everything that was san
e, she was about to let Grayson have his way with her...a more than willing participant...still, it didn’t make it right.
Emma wedged her hands between them and pushed his shoulders. “What are you doing?” she breathed. She’d meant for it to come out with more force, but her weak legs were a sign force had abandoned her.
His perplexed stare was hard. The flat palms of his hands found spots against the door above her shoulders, and only the pressure of his hips held her in place. Lord, he was strong. His shoulders heaved from their entanglement, and no longer from whatever had been bothering him.
“Isn’t it obvious?” His husky voice begged her to kiss his lips.
“I...I’m not doing this,” she finally managed to get out.
Her body screamed, What are you talking about? Kiss him. Kiss him!
“I’m not one of your call-girls.”
In an instant, anger doused the seductive features of his face. “Then what the hell are you doing in here?” he snarled.
She had no idea. One second she was making sure he was okay and the next here they were, pinned to a door. Whatever had happened in-between was a little blurry now, but it sure made her insides melt in anticipation of continuing.
We are not continuing.
Grayson pushed off the door and she landed on her now shaky feet. Thank goodness for flat sandals. He stormed across the room, giving them both the space they needed.
Her body instantly missed the solidness of him, and she had to force herself to stand away from the support of the door. Her legs trembled, her body wanted him, and her heart held compassion for him. Something was wrong, she could see it, or sense it. She didn’t know how she knew, but she’d never seen him like this before.
Minutes passed before she spoke. “Grayson?”
“I didn’t invite you in for some heartfelt talk,” he growled, still not facing her.
His shoulders and neck were so tense, she wanted to cross the room and massage his pain away. Pain from what?
“You were my next lay, so if you’re not interested, you know where the door is.” He turned then, trying to form his staple charm across his strained face. Whatever was bothering him was winning over his usual arrogant self. “That is how you see me, right?”