by Wood, Vivian
“Well Gabe and I go way back. His fiancée introduced us, God rest her soul.”
I frown. What in the world does that mean?
He looks remote for a moment, then continues. “Anyway, I need a favor. And in return, I will make sure that you get your pick of candidates for the resident that will lead you in the fall.”
My eyebrows creep up. “Like… any resident? Whoever I like the most?”
He gives me a dazzling smile. “Whatever makes you happy. As long as I get what I ask you for, that is.”
My heart clangs around in my chest. “And what’s that, exactly?”
“It’s simple. We have been racing our yachts together for years, you see. We are going to compete again in the end of summer. I just need to know his exact route plan for the Highbourne Pointe Regatta.” His smile widens. “I just like to know what my friends are up to.”
My brow hunches. “You want me to… like, spy on him? I don’t even know what a route plan or whatever is, if I’m honest with you.”
Dr. Montgomery’s face zooms in close. I move my head back even though he’s not physically here. I have the worst feeling about Dr. Montgomery, like he’s definitely trying to pull one over on me or something.
“The route plan will be drawn out on a map. I just need a picture of it. Like I said, it’s a very simple request.” His lips quirk.
“When would I…” I wrinkle my nose. “You know, procure a copy for you.”
“He’ll be working on it still. Right up until the race, I’d wager. So he will have it on board the yacht you’re working on. See, I’ve thought of everything.” He smiles coldly.
I bite my lip. “I don’t know… I mean… it kind of sounds like you are asking for something that will give you an advantage in the regatta.”
“Pssh.” He poo-poos my idea, waving his hand. “Not at all. Like I said, it’ll just help me to prepare. Clearly you have no clue about boats because otherwise you would realize that what I’m asking for is for safety.” He rolls his eyes. “I am a doctor, Luna.”
Exhaling, I shake my head. “I’m sorry, Dr. Montgomery. It sounds like you want me to help you cheat.”
Immediately, the smile drops from his lips. His voice rises in pitch and his face contorts with anger. “Do not fuck with me, little girl. Do this very simple and quite reasonable thing I asked you. Take your reward. Otherwise… well, let’s just say that you don’t want to know what happens otherwise.”
I give him a questioning look. “Are you threatening me?”
“Not at all,” he says smoothly.
“That’s not really what it sounds like. Besides, how do you even know that I’ll be able to get his private drawings and stuff?”
Dr. Montgomery cocks his head. “You’re smart and relatively attractive. You’ll figure something out.” He pauses. “But I will need it the second you get the chance. You grab a picture with your phone. You send it to me. In the fall, you will be massively rewarded.”
“It doesn’t sound like I have much alternative,” I say, my eyes narrowing.
“Great! You can just send it to this number when you get a picture.” He smiles brightly. “Bon voyage, Luna.”
And just like that, he hangs up on me. I’m still slightly openmouthed, trying desperately to figure out what I just said yes to.
My future boss wants me to sneak him copy of the route plan that my current boss plans to take on some regatta. Dr. Montgomery says it’s for safety, but I’d bet all the money I have that he and Gabe aren’t actually friends at all.
What in the world?
Starting my Mercedes, I pull out of my parking spot, my head still spinning.
Chapter Seven
Gabe
The flashes of light across the dance floor. The impatient throb of music, so loud that I can feel the vibrations moving up through my feet. There is a smell here, rising off the tightly packed dance floor.
It smells like perfume and aftershave, and underneath that, there is a baser scent. One of sweaty exuberance and the blending together of bodies.
It reminds me very much of the scent of sex. As I stand on a balcony above the crowd, that scent is slowly driving me a little insane. Dresses sparkle when the lights hit them, people pull their dance partners just a fraction closer. Women throw their arms up; men grind their lower bodies in a gyrating, pulsating beat. Everyone is entranced, moving in time to the persistent throbbing of the bass.
I shouldn’t be here. Not in Las Vegas. Not in this dance club.
Michelle only died three months ago. I’m still deep in mourning. But yesterday I found out that Michelle owed money to some very bad people. Money that they still expected, despite her death.
And I also found out that Michelle paid a little bit of her debt off by doing porn.
My fists clench. I watch the dancers below, but I have no inclination to join them. After all, I only came to Las Vegas to pay off the men that Michelle never managed to get even with.
Tipping my head back, I empty my glass of whiskey down my throat. I’m so angry with her. Sad too.
My angst threatens to swarm up from inside me, snaking its way up from my throat to choke me. I shove it down.
But I’ve been shoving it down for three months already. It’s packed so densely inside me that I’m pretty sure it’s an explosive force. A ticking time bomb, ready to go off.
And thus, I ended up here in this club. I bought myself a bottle of whiskey and I’m in the midst of drowning my sorrows.
I don’t know if I want to fight or fuck next, but I have to do something. Pouring myself another drink, I close my eyes and listen to the whomp-whomp-whomp of the beat.
“Do you mind if I stand here?”
I open my eyes to find a petite blonde woman standing right beside me. My eyebrows go up. With her light colored eyes, graceful features, and a sparkly silver dress she looks almost too beautiful and otherworldly to be real.
I find myself nodding, even though I planned to drink alone and brood.
She studies me for a moment, her eyes a breathtaking blue accented by her dark makeup. Cocking her head to one side, she quirks her lips.
“You’re handsome. You’re all tall and you have the face of a model.” She steps closer in her sky-high heels, invading my space by touching my cheek.
That’s my first clue that she’s drunk. So am I, but I still pull away from her fingers.
“Quit that.”
She just gives me a daring grin. “No.”
I try to intimidate her with my size, stepping forward again with a scowl on my face. But to my surprise, she doesn’t back away.
She just gives me a funny look and then takes my hand. “Dance with me, stranger.”
She tugs me toward the stairs, heading for the dance floor. I allow her to pull me along, riding on a particular wave of drunkenness.
I’m in Vegas.
I’m being led by an attractive blonde.
I’m not tied down anymore.
Before I can feel sulky about that last thought, my partner has led me down the stairs and pulled me into the crowd. She turns suddenly, pressing herself close to my. body. She starts moving with the rhythm of the song, her arms winding around my neck, her small hips sliding against my own.
I thank God that there is plenty of alcohol in my system and slip my arm around her lower back.
Dancing is usually anathema to me. But I think tonight must be my night. The stranger makes it easy for me, setting an easy pace, doing most of the work.
I get a whiff of her perfume, something floral with an undertone of musk. My arms encircle her, my hips pressing against her.
She drops her head back, a smile on her lips as she gazes up into my face. Her eyes make me think she can see right into my soul. I swear she is weaving some spell around me.
And I love it, every second of it.
She raises up on her tiptoes, shouting in my ear to be heard over the music. “Do you want to kiss me?”
My body h
ardens. My grip on her tightens. My gaze drops down to her perfectly pink lips.
I’ve never wanted anything so much in my life.
Bending her back a little, I brush my lips against hers. Then I kiss her again, harder this time. Her mouth is warm and it tastes as sweet as she looks.
Her hands curl in my shirt collar, pulling me closer. The kiss turns demanding and breathless with effort on my part.
I explore her mouth, my hips digging against hers in time with the music. I fist a hand in the back of her hair and tug her head back, exposing her throat to my lips.
Kissing my way down the smooth column, I pause over her pulse point.
Her heart beats as frantically as a rabbit’s. She needs this as much as I do.
When my lips leave her skin, she pulls my ear to her lips.
“I have a room upstairs,” she whispers. “You should come up with me.”
I freeze, considering her words. Am I ready to have my first fling since Michelle’s death?
My first instinct is to say no, to deny myself the comfort I could find in this little blonde’s arms. But then I realize that Michelle wasn’t faithful to me. She slept with that fucking douche at the yacht club. She slept with multiple people when she was filming the porn to pay her creditors back.
And who knows who else she fucked. My grip tightens on the blonde’s waist. Her lips curve upwards into an expectant smile.
“You want to,” she says. “Come with me.”
She grabs my hand again and starts pushing through the crowd. And I let her tow me along, my anticipation already building.
She looks back at me, pulling me along. “Gabe.”
I raise my eyebrows. She doesn’t know my name. I never gave it…
“Gabe!”
“Luna…” I call to her. She smiles even as she lets go of my hand. “Luna?”
In the next second, I blink myself awake. Sunlight streams over my face. Malkia looks down at me with a frown, her dark eyes filled with concern.
“Gabe?” she asks. “Are you okay?”
I suck in a breath, sitting up. The gentle sway of the ocean and the feel of expensive linens beneath me tells me I’m in the main cabin of the High Hope.
“Yeah,” I say, stretching my neck. I’m wearing yesterday’s clothes still, my plaid button up wrinkled. “I guess I fell asleep here last night.”
She stands up, beckoning me to follow her. “Come to the kitchen. I will make coffee.”
Groaning, I get to my feet. I must’ve slept at a weird angle or something because my neck really hurts. Ducking my head, I follow Malkia down the hallway toward the kitchen.
She already has the kettle on the stove when I get in the tiny room. The stove and double oven are on one side of the island; on the other side I pull out on of two stools, sitting while I watch my sister find the reground coffee.
“You looked like you were having quite the dream when I woke you,” Malkia says. She busies herself dumping a few scoops of coffee into the French press. But I know her too well to read the way she’s bustling around the kitchen as disinterest.
She wants to know what my dream was about.
Sitting down, I shrug. “I guess. The details of my dream are hazy.”
She eyes me, coming around the island and pulling out the second stool. “I see.”
She sits, canting her head at me. I stretch my legs out, which puts my crossed ankles into the hallway. We are quiet for a moment until the kettle whistles.
Malkia gets up and pours the steaming water into the French Press, then checks the fridge under the island counter. “There is no cream.”
I shrug. “I’ll make do.”
She leans against the counter, giving me a look.
“What?” I ask.
“I am just waiting for you to tell me why you needed to talk to Luna alone the other day.” She crosses her arms, her gaze boring into me.
I give her a tired look. “This again?”
“Yes.” She checks the French press, then sighs. “There is a story there. I can feel it.”
I shake my head. “I wish you would let it go.”
Malkia shoots me a glare. “I am your sister. It is appropriate for me to worry about you, Gabe. Especially about your dating life.”
My immediate response is a scowl. “What dating life?”
“You need one. And Luna is perfect for you. She is extremely attractive, she is smart, she dresses well…”
“She’s a pain in the ass, just like you. Maybe you should date her. You two could annoy each other and leave me out of it.”
She smiles evenly. “If I thought that Luna was even the tiniest bit willing, I would take that advice to heart. But when I led her tour the other day, all she seemed interested in was you.”
I tap the counter. “Please say that the coffee is ready, Mal.”
She huffs, checking the French press again. Then she pulls two plastic coffee cups out and starts to pour the fragrant coffee. “Want to know how I know she is interested in you?”
She slides my mug to me. I take it, looking at her carefully. “Not really.”
“Body language,” she announces. “It is very obvious, when you look at the body language. A shift of the shoulders, a turn of the legs.”
“I’m not interested in dating anyone,” I remind her gently. “Especially not someone that works beneath me. I’m the captain of this yacht. She’s my employee. Besides, I’m still in mourning.”
Malkia takes a tiny sip of her coffee, her brows rising. “What else?”
I narrow my eyes at her. “What do you mean?”
“I am just trying to let you vent all of your frustrations here and now. Let you get it all out of your system now, when it is just us alone.”
A muscle ticks in my cheek. I take a sip of my hot coffee, considering what Malkia just said. “All right. Aside from my other objections, which I think it’s important to note are insurmountable…”
“Pfft,” she says, waving a hand.
“I’m not interested in dating anyone, period. But if I were, it wouldn’t be in anyone so…” I stop, drawing in a deep breath.
“So what?” Malkia asks, grinning. “Pretty? Well educated? Sunny? Why would you avoid any of those things, eh?”
Standing up, I look down on my sister. “Women like that… pretty, uninhibited women… they are complicated. I had a complex relationship with the last pretty woman that I knew. And it ended poorly, obviously.”
Malkia pulls a face. “Do you mean Michelle? Because she is a poor stick to measure every other woman by.”
My hands curl into fists. “Of course I mean Michelle!”
Malkia reaches out to me, her tone pacifying. “I am sorry. You know that Michelle’s secrecy was not your fault, though.”
That stings. “Says who? She was the last woman that I’ll ever love. And she couldn’t even involve me in all the shit that she was into… she didn’t trust me!” I glance at my sister, my pain raw and real. “She didn’t trust me enough to tell me anything, Malkia. Not even the biggest parts of her life. That’s what loving a complicated person can be like.”
“You have to know that not all women are so…” She pauses, searching for the word. “Duplicitous. You know that, right?”
A frown presses my mouth down. “I’m not ready for another relationship yet. Maybe not ever. I wasn’t kidding about that part. And having you making assumptions about how a woman feels about me…” I draw in a quick breath, taming my words. “It’s not helping, Malkia.”
Guilt flashes across her face. “I am sorry, Gabe. I am just trying to help. I thought perhaps if you could stop thinking about Michelle— “
I raise my hand. “I’m fine. You worry about me too much.” Blowing out a breath, I shake my head. “I think I should head home for a shower.”
Malkia sighs. “I’ll see you later at the yacht club’s fundraiser for the regatta though, right?”
I give my sister a small smile. “You couldn’t kee
p me from going if you tried.”
Turning and heading down the hall, I catch my sister’s parting words.
“Make sure you dress up!” she calls to me.
Raising a hand to let Malkia know that I heard her, I hit the stairs.
As I climb onto the main deck though, my mind returns to Luna. To the dream I had earlier about her. To her dazzling smile.
God, how am I supposed to have her work on the ship beneath me and not lust after her?
Repressing a sigh, I head for the gangplank.
Chapter Eight
Luna
I see Harper waiting on the corner before she sees me. She’s staring off into space just like a fashion model in a magazine spread; her upswept red curls looking elegant and her strappy white gown’s tulle skirts reminding me of a cold breath of air suspended in the air in winter.
“Harper!” I call to her as I climb out of my Uber.
She blinks and turns her head, her eyes widening. She looks unbearably lovely as she starts walking toward me.
“Wow! You really pulled out all the stops, huh?” she says, her gaze skating from my blonde updo down to my strappy baby pink organza dress.
I grin at her, twirling in my high heels. The movement makes the top layer my dress whirl out. She laughs as I link arms with her.
“You’re in good spirits today,” she says.
“Are you kidding me? When you called this morning and begged me to come to this event, I went into wardrobe overdrive. Usually for a to-do like this I have my outfit planned out way in advance… but I decided to see this as a challenge.” I smooth my hands over my dress. “And a reason to wear this Elie Saab dress. Isn’t it just spectacular?”
Harper smiles. “It really is. God, my dress is from Nordstrom Rack. We might as well be on different planets.”
I put my arm through hers as start pulling her toward the dark colored stone entrance of the Seattle Museum of Art. “I’m sure you don’t mean that as a negative. That dress is perfection and you look like the most glamorous woman ever in it. I’m glad to be your date to… well, whatever event this is.”