by Shannyn Leah
After suffering through supper, the girls decided to hit up one of the dance clubs, the Skyjet. An ironic name since they were on water, still the name was catchy.
The Skyjet was located on the same level as the restaurant and the hum of the music spilled into the hallway as the women shuffled passed security and flashed their bracelets. A bouncy tune screamed in their ears as they entered.
The dark room flashed with neon strobe lights, and the closer they walked to the stage, the brighter the room became.
The tiled dance floor had illuminated lights and two rows of high pub tables bordered the dance floor and to the stage where a band was pounding off popular music for the dancers. Surprisingly, they found an empty table and dropped their purses on the red surface to claim stake. They didn’t hit the dance floor right away, and Emma tuned in pretty quickly to what held them back.
“That was some serious dancing you were having with Grayson,” Izzy said. “More like serious discussion. An awkward, hands off, kind of discussion. What was that all about?”
“Him being a jackass,” Emma answered.
She wasn’t about to share a single detail about her entanglement with Grayson this afternoon. Emma told herself it was to prevent the constant badgering that would follow, but deep down, those few moments with Grayson, were a fantasy she wanted to stash away in her own secret Pandora’s box.
Sure, Izzy and Abby had come to their own conclusions, falling upon a breathless Emma in the hallway earlier, but in no way would she deny or account for anything they suggested. She held firm. She was going to hold the upper hand.
The three women flashed her suggestive grins and provocative narrowed eyes, their faces screaming sex.
Oh bugger.
“It absolutely, in no way, had anything to do with sex. So just get those looks off all your faces.” She pointed a finger around at the girls, who burst into laughter for a good solid minute. It wasn’t that funny, but Emma laughed with their ridiculousness.
“Izzy, do you mix business with pleasure?” Melissa asked, as the laughter came to an end. Her daring eyes locked on Emma’s. “Maybe have a little fun with the guests or employees at the resort?”
Izzy made a face. “No. Never. Marc would kill me.”
“He would kill us,” Emma agreed. “Or at the very least, we’d have to endure one of his long, judgemental, cool and collected and sort of annoying lectures. The ones that would make us do whatever he’s indicating just to never have to suffer through it again. And the look. You know the one, when he’s caught you red-handed, and he’s disappointed and disgusted, unable to wrap his mind around why you’ve done whatever you’ve done wrong?”
All the women nodded, knowing exactly what look she was referring to. Marc was a perfectionist, with a side of seriousness, which was hard to break.
“Marc wouldn’t date you when he came back home,” Izzy said to Melissa. “And I bet it had to do with your position at the resort.”
Melissa’s eyes narrowed. “He dated the helps daughter. The helps daughter. I think that entitles you to date or do whoever you want.”
Abby cleared her throat. “The help’s daughter is standing right here,” she said, throwing an unappreciative glance at Melissa.
Melissa waved a hand at her. “Pointing that out only makes it awkward.”
“Saying the help’s daughter, in front of the helps daughter, makes it awkward,” Abby said. “Or trying to steal my sister’s husband...”
Melissa smiled, as if she’d triumphed that win, which she hadn’t. No doubt, Melissa had taken immense pleasure in the play of attempting to weasel her way between Abby’s sister Kate, and Marc, who were now happily married. At the beginning of Kate and Marc’s engagement, Emma hadn’t been supportive either. While the rest of her family seemed to have forgotten Kate had broken her brother’s heart once before, the truth lingering in the back of Emma’s head made it impossible to forgive and forget. Not right away anyway, but she had and would admit that, today, Kate was the best thing for Marc. Emma had never seen him happier.
“They weren’t married,” Melissa pointed out.
“Engaged to be married,” Abby said. Most people would sit back and let Melissa’s remarks slide, a little terrified to go head-to-head with the mayor’s daughter, but Abby wasn’t most people, and she charged head on into conflict, as if she enjoyed it.
“Again, pointing it out doesn’t change it,” Melissa said.
“And you two talking about it is only making us feel awkward,” Izzy said.
“I’m going to get some drinks.” Using the excuse as a reason to escape the battle, Emma left the table.
At the bar, Emma ordered four drinks.
“Coming right up,” the bartender said with a friendly nod and bright smile.
“Could you add one more.” Grayson came up beside her. He rested his elbows on the bar and looked at her.
“Hi,” he said, wearing that handsome smile of his. His leg melting smile, attached to his lips...and boy those lips knew how to move.
Snap out of it.
“Hi,” she said back.
They sat quietly staring at each other, but the music more than made up for the awkward silence between them.
“I’ve never been friends with a woman before,” Grayson said, leaning in so he didn’t have to shout it. “Is this awkwardness normal? Does it ever go away?”
Emma laughed. “I didn’t realize we were friends.”
“What else would I call you?” He hadn’t moved away, and the same soap and cologne smell she’d endured throughout supper teased her again, leaving her longing for the smell of his skin, a mixture of masculinity and sun-kissed goodness.
“I could think of a thousand other things you could call me. One I frequently refer to you as in my head is, my arched enemy. Most recently, seaweed scum.”
Grayson roared with laughter and Emma found herself smiling with him as the drinks arrived.
“Are you meeting someone?” she asked, nearly biting her tongue as they words came out.
He shook his head.
“Do you want to come hang with us?” She needed a zipper on her mouth like he needed a chastity belt. Where was her filter?
Grayson glanced through the crowd at the girls staring back at them.
He scopes you out. According to Grayson, her lack of desire for him, appealed to him. If only he knew what thoughts she was having in her head right now.
“They’re harmless,” Emma said, talking about the girls.
Let them stare him away. What is wrong with you? Trouble, hello, Grayson Cohen is a little bit of bad. And now that she’d tasted him, she was finding him hard to give up.
“I doubt harmless is the correct term,” he said with a wink. “But, I’m always up for a little bit of trouble.”
Why did that one comment heat her entire body and dry her mouth?
Emma grabbed a couple of drinks and Grayson grabbed the remainder.
“I’m going to warn you, this is one wild group of women once they start throwing back the drinks.”
“You too?”
She shook her head. “I’m not much of a drinker. This will likely be my limit.”
He stepped back, with no expected snarky comment, only a grin that said it all. “After you.”
Emma slipped off the stool and started toward the girls.
Friends...she couldn’t quite wrap her head around that, but maybe it was because she’d spent so long hating him...or because after that kiss she couldn’t stop thinking about him in a way that was so far from friendly. Either way, she had a feeling being friends with Grayson would demonstrate why it was hard for men and women to hold onto a platonic relationship.
Chapter Eight
“YOU ARE SO old,” Emma laughed, when the song Grayson requested sounded from the speakers. Although it was dated, the crowd went wild for the then popular song, and Grayson enjoyed the surprised look their reaction gave Emma.
He grabbed her hand and spu
n her in a circle. Her laughter floated all the way around them like ribbon twining them together. She landed back against his chest, her fingers clinging to his shirt momentarily. A shy smile made it across her lips, and before he could sink too much into the deepening of her blue eyes, he spun her away, setting her free to move with the music.
Izzy and Abby were in their own world beside them. Every so often, their attentions would make its way back to Emma and Grayson, but mostly they laughed and danced by themselves. Melissa continued to disappear back to their table, where she was more interested in her cell phone then her dancing friends. That left Emma all to Grayson, and he didn’t mind one bit.
With the music blaring, it left little room to talk...which for the two of them was good. Less talking and less fighting, more laughing and dancing. She was a good team dancer and sometimes a silly, lone dancer. Now her arms were flailed about, he was sure that dance didn’t have a name, and she hadn’t a clue how slightly ridiculous she looked.
When the song ended and another one started, Emma landed against him, and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her extra bounce sent them both backwards a few steps. He caught her waist with his arm to keep her steady. Her giggle was magical. It stopped short when her eyes found his and he knew why.
Holding her like this sent desire straight through him, and he hadn’t had time to blink it away before she saw.
Damn it. He was trying his hardest to keep this platonic, especially after admitting to her that her nonsexual feelings were one of the things he liked about her. Friends.
Emma’s teeth found her worried lips again and her hands slid down his front, gripping his shirt. He held her tightly against him, when he shouldn’t. When he’d promised her he understood their boundaries.
For the first time in his life, Grayson wished his past hadn’t required him to set boundaries. He wished this woman could look at him and see more than the string of ladies he’d bedded. He wished she wasn’t terrified of becoming the next on his list. If only she could simply look at him, and appreciate the fun they’d had tonight. The laughter and jokes they had shared and that he never did with people outside his family. Not like this, not this genuine.
Just like everyone kept saying it would, his past caught up with him, and there was not a damn thing he could do about it now.
“I need a break!” she hollered over the music. Her smile was forced, not reaching her eyes.
She needed a break all right...from him.
When he loosened his grip, she scampered away like a terrified kitten. He did that. He scared her.
Alone on the dance floor, he took the moment to gain his composure, before his large steps caught up to her. He felt angry and sad, but he didn’t understand why either had invaded his body. Those were feelings reserved for someone who cared and he made it a point to not care about women. What the hell was all this caring?
“Melissa!” Emma shouted, as they approached the table.
Melissa waved her off, turned and left, still busy on her phone.
Emma turned to Grayson. “Was it something I said?” she joked, but again, it was forced.
She couldn’t deny there was a pull between them. She’d never let it show, but maybe his aunt had been right and both he and Emma had been building walls to keep the lust at bay.
Lust was a better word to describe what was happening between them. Maybe he was going about this all wrong. He should just stop assuming something was wrong with him, and accept that his lust for her was clouding his mind. He was simply ready to finish what they had started in his cabin. The fact she wasn’t the type of woman to do so, was the foundation of his frustration.
Liar.
He knew the difference, but he was going to do a kickass job at ignoring it.
Emma put some physical distance between them, walking to the opposite side of the small table. She placed her elbows on the surface and held her head in her hands, giving him a strange look.
“You’re a good dancer,” she said. “A very good dancer.” She sounded surprised.
“You aren’t too bad either.”
“No, I’m great. I know so. I have years of dance certificates to prove it.”
Grayson laughed and stepped away from the table. “What was this then, Ms. Professional?” He tried to mimic her flailing arms and she went into a fit of laughter.
“Stop it! You’re doing it wrong.” She came around the table and grabbed each arm with her hands. “Like this,” she guided his arms through the air. He hoped she didn’t expect him to pay attention, not when her fingers were gliding so gracefully over his bare forearm. He was thankful he’d thrown off his jacket and rolled his sleeves up to experience this sweetness.
When she finished, Emma had the biggest grin on her face. “I totally just made that up.” She laughed. “I was just going with the flow out there. No name for my awesome moves.”
“You think those moves were awesome?” he teased.
“More awesome than your choice in music.” Emma resumed her spot across from him.
“You thirsty?” Grayson asked.
“Parched. For water,” she said.
“I will make you a deal. I will grab us a couple of waters if you request the next song, so I have some backup to use against you each time you throw my song choice in my face.”
“Deal.” She held her hand out and he shook it.
“Choose wisely,” he warned. “I’ll be right back.”
Emma nodded and her attention went back to the dance floor.
Grayson ordered two waters at the bar, then glanced back over his shoulder in Emma’s direction, still feeling the tingling of her touch all over him. She was a bundle of surprises, and more outgoing than he had given her credit.
Then Grayson’s eyes landed on another woman, stopping all his thoughts about Emma cold. Prickles of anger pierced him. For a short-lived moment he thought he was dreaming−having a nightmare−yes, this moment would definitely classify as night sweats, all out screaming, body-wrenching nightmare.
He’d been having more fun this evening than he’d had in years, and now, out of the blue, like punishment for his behavior today, his ex-wife loomed before him.
“Hi Grayson,” Samantha purred.
Oh Lord, the nightmare was real.
Grayson didn’t bother with a hello, turning back to the bar, and wishing his mother had access to a random bolt of lightning at this very moment. Striking Samantha or himself, he wasn’t fussy, as long as it ended whatever was about to unfold.
“Don’t be like that Grayson.” He felt her possessive hand touch his shoulder and his body burned with anger through the material.
He shot her a look that, even with her cool persistence, made her slowly retract her hand.
Samantha hadn’t changed much over the years. Still modern, as she’d been six years ago, sleek and elegant, like the white, crisp halter-top jumpsuit that swooshed at her feet now, baring plenty of her smooth olive skin. She was gorgeous, primed to perfection and he wouldn’t doubt that even if she hadn’t needed it, she’d surgically plumped her lips and had facial injections around that seductive smile. She was too perfect.
Samantha leaned her arms on the bar, mimicking Grayson’s position. “It’s been six years Grayson. Bygones and all.”
Bygones? Was she serious?
“You’re wasting your breath.” His harsh tone reverberated around them and while most would take the hint and walk away, Samantha moved in closer. The side of her bare arm brushed against his, sending another round of fury into his blood line. Her touch revolted him.
“I would love to catch up with you.” He felt like bait to her bigger plan. “It hasn’t been the same without you, Grayson. I miss you.”
She missed the idea of money and the title, not the man who offered it to her.
Leaning even closer, she named off her cabin and floor, which wasn’t that far from his, and then her mouth moved to his ear. “We had some good times Grayson...”
D
idn’t they scan who boarded these cruises?
Grayson’s drinks arrived. Ignoring the strange looks Samantha cast at the water, he turned and his angry stare met her amused anticipation. She made him furious.
He lowered his tone, preparing to walk away, making her a distant dot in his life, and he growled, “Yes, before you screwed my father.” It had been another ironic moment in his life, when karma had kicked him in the ass.
EMMA WATCHED THE BLACK haired beauty touch Grayson, rub up against him, and whisper in his ear. Did she just nibble his earlobe, or lick it?
Suddenly, she remembered who she’d been partying with all night long: Grayson Cohen.
The same, used feelings washed through her, traveling back to the party in university, where she’d turned out to be no more than the third wheel. Not even worth his time to tell her when he was leaving.
Friends her ass.
They’d been down this path before and it had ended in a big, fat fail. Why had she thought ten years plus down the road had changed anything? Especially after the events in his cabin today.
Emma needed to leave before Grayson blew her off, again. She needed to ditch him first, get the upper hand, and never fall back into this pattern again.
She pushed her way through the crowded dance floor, which proved to be more difficult than she’d initially thought, perhaps due to consuming a little more to drink than usual. That water would have been helpful right about now, but so would a slap in the face.
She spotted the girls dancing and waved.
“Hey!” she called over the music, stepping into their dancing circle. The floor was packed now. Someone stepped on her foot and another jabbed her ribcage, punishment for having fun with a man who would only use her and throw her away.
“Hey!” Izzy and Abby yelled in unison, throwing their hands in the air and squeezing in half hugs, acting as if they hadn’t seen her all night. They’d had more to drink than her and were dancing a fine line between buzzed and drunk.
“I’m heading back to the cabin,” Emma yelled.