I give Brian my brightest smile as he relaxes back and then leans into me again. “Well, maybe this’ll be good for him.”
“This oughtta be interesting,” he replies. “And you know I’ll want all the details.”
“I’m not really a details person,” I admit candidly. “Not that there will be any details to discuss.”
“This is a long trip. And a small ship. You’ll need a friend. Trust me.”
I just smile, letting the conversation die. And just in time, too. Brian and I both look toward the door when we hear it open a few seconds later. Reese strides in, looking refreshed and gorgeous as ever in his snug white t-shirt and black shorts. I’ve never forgotten what great legs he has—muscular, tan, not too hairy.
He nods at Brian and shoots me that bone-melting smile of his. And, of course, my bones melt. Then I become irritated. I hate that I react to him the way I do, but try as I might, I can’t seem to stop it.
With determination, I turn my attention back to Brian. “What were you saying?” I ask politely, keeping my eyes trained on his, even though it’s all I can do not to watch Reese as he crosses the room behind him.
Brian chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”
I give him a disdainful look and then we both laugh. For another hour, Brian stretches and works my muscles relentlessly, even more so than the personal trainer for Exotique. And for that hour, Reese watches. Every time I sneak a peek at him, his eyes are on us, burning a hot path over every inch of my body. And even though I’m not as overt, and even though I hate that I do it, I find myself watching Reese, too. I watch his muscles strain as he lifts and pushes and squeezes. I watch his golden skin shift as he moves. I watch his lips purse as he exhales. And, from the corner of mine, I watch his eyes devour me.
When it’s finally time for Brian to cool me down, my heart is racing and the sheen of sweat on my brow has nothing to do with physical exertion. It’s like I’ve spent the last hour being touched and caressed, being stripped bare and consumed by Reese.
All from across the room.
I’m ready to bolt and get away from him when Brian lets me go. I need space, distance. But I soon realize those are two things I’m not likely to get when I’m stuck on a yacht in the employ of Reese.
And when he makes no bones about wanting me in his arms.
Evidently Reese doesn’t plan to give me much of a reprieve from him. I’ve just had a shower and am sitting down to some oatmeal in the crew kitchen area when Karesh enters. My lips are puckered and I’m blowing on a hot spoonful when he stops at the table.
“Are you finding everything you need, Ms. Moore?”
I give him a smile and a nod. “I am, thank you, Mr. Karesh,” I say with the spoon hovering near my mouth.
“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, returning my smile. “I’ve just come by to tell you that your presence has been requested on the main deck for the day. A late breakfast will be served if you’d like something else to eat. Be sure to wear your swimsuit. You should have everything you need in your room, but if you find that’s not the case, let me know immediately and I’ll see to it that you have it within the hour.”
I simply nod and smile again, my mind already racing over what this might mean for me.
Why am I being summoned? Who has requested my company? What’s expected of me?
As though the questions are visible on my face, Karesh touches my shoulder in a comforting way. “Don’t give it too much thought. Just go and have fun. This is a pleasure cruise after all.”
With a pat-pat-pat on my shoulder, Karesh nods again before he turns to leave, as though his words explained everything rather than making it worse.
A pleasure cruise? For whom? Because I know he can’t possibly mean for me. I’m here to work. Nothing more.
It’s with growing unease that I dump out my uneaten oatmeal, wash the bowl and make my way back to my room to look through my overflowing closet. It’s not until I open the built-in drawers at the bottom of the closet that I see, among other things, the bathing suits Reese has so generously provided. Of course, they’re much nicer than the ones that I brought, although a couple are far more revealing than anything I’d ever be caught dead in. I touch the sequined and intricately-painted suits, debating on what to wear. My eyes keep returning to one with swirls of teal and blue, like a peacock’s plumage. I take it out and flip through the closet, finding a sheer floral top and matching short sarong in shades of green and blue. I slip it on, noting the perfect fit before I pile my hair on top of my head and push my feet into jeweled green sandals. There were even sunglasses in one drawer, so I grab a pair and slide them into place. If nothing else they will hide my eyes from Reese.
I remember Brian’s instructions on how to get outside from my room way up in the bow of the ship. Left-right-left. Sure enough, it takes me directly to the doors that lead to the top deck.
Reese is sitting at the covered bar area that sits behind the small pool and hot tub. At either end are bowls and platters, stacked and arranged and overflowing with food. Beside him is Hemi. Sloane and Sig are sitting at the other end.
He notices me the instant I step outside. He’s wearing sunglasses as well, but I would swear that I could feel his eyes meet mine behind them. I watch him, admittedly feeling a little breathless when his lips curve into a smile and he rises and makes his way to me.
I can’t help but admire him—again—as he walks in his lazy lion-like way. He’s wearing swim trunks in aqua, two or three shades darker than his eyes, and a white shirt, unbuttoned to reveal his wide chest and rippling abdominals. His hair is mussed from the wind and his square jaw is covered in a day’s worth of stubble. As amazing as he was as a young man, this Reese makes the younger one look pathetic. He is nothing short of physical perfection now.
With one big hand, Reese reaches for my fingers, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “You look beautiful,” he says softly, his thumb rubbing rhythmically up into the web between my first and second finger. The action sends a little shiver rippling through me and I stiffen against it.
Reese smiles, a devilish smile that makes me wonder how he knows the way he affects me. Because he knows. I’m certain of it.
I tug my fingers from his and force a smile of my own. “So, why am I up here?”
“Because I want you up here.”
“To do what?” I know it’s a loaded question, but I want Reese to spell it out for me. It makes me feel better to be brazen and a bit difficult. It makes me feel strong and more in control to take the bull by the horns. So to speak.