He only knew one thing—he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t share a room with Ellie. Not even one night. Not even one more minute.
A soft noise caught his attention, and he lifted his head. A moment later, he knew what he was hearing. She was crying.
Shit.
He could endure a lot of things, but not Ellie’s tears. Not even the tears she’d shed while she was breaking up with him. Even then, he’d reached out to her. Of course, he’d been hoping to change her mind, but still.
Unable to stop himself, mainly because he wasn’t an asshole, he slid off the bed, came to her side, dropped down next to her, and pulled her into his arms.
She tucked her head against his chest, sobbing harder as he threaded his fingers into her soft, thick hair.
He wanted to tell her everything would be okay, but he knew that wasn’t true. Nothing would ever be okay again. It wasn’t possible. Not after touching her like this. Holding her. Feeling her against him. She fisted his shirt in her hand and leaned closer.
Finally, after a long time, she lifted her face and met his gaze. Streaks of tears were on her cheeks. Her eyes were bloodshot. Her mascara was smudged. Her lips were dry. She licked them and said the last thing he expected. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”
Chapter 3
Ellie’s world was a blur. Emotional overload made her heavy and tired. She was aware of leaning into Noah, and then he picked her up and set her on the bed. He tugged the covers down, slid her sandals off, and tucked her in.
She let her eyes close, ducked her face into the pillow, and cried again. She didn’t even know why she was crying. She didn’t deserve to feel this pain and sadness. She’d hurt him. Terribly. It didn’t matter what her reasons were. She could fully understand why he would hate her for the rest of his life. He owned that. He had every right to hate her. And here she was, in his room, lying on his bed, on his pillow, in his space, breathing his air.
As if she had a right to any of it.
She did not.
She must have dozed because when she opened her eyes the next time, it was dark outside. The sliding door was still open, and she could see Noah sitting on the balcony. His bare feet were propped on the glass wall. He had a large dark bottle in his hand. Wine? Probably from the basket.
She sat up, still feeling groggy, and slid off of the bed. On silent feet, she padded to the balcony and then dropped onto the empty chair next to his.
He didn’t fully acknowledge her except to glance her way and nod slightly before returning his gaze to the sea.
For several minutes, she enjoyed the feel of the warm breeze that tossed her hair in every direction. She didn’t bother to try to tame it. Instead, she pulled her feet up onto the chair in a totally unladylike manner, drawing her knees to her chest and propping her chin on her skirt. She was covered. Sort of. Enough.
She had no idea what to say or do next, so she went with her first thought. “What are you drinking?”
He lifted the bottle, glanced at the label, and responded, “Merlot.”
She shuddered. Gross.
He glanced at her. “I’m not always this uncouth, but I didn’t want to wake you looking around for a glass.”
She shrugged. “I don’t care what vessel you use to drink it. It’s the contents that I find unappealing.” She hoped he heard at least a hint of teasing in her voice.
“Hey, now. Don’t make fun of my wine. I get that enough from my SEAL team. It’s sophisticated. What do you like to drink? Please don’t tell me it’s always frozen and colorful like that shit you had on the lido deck.”
She smiled. “No. Never. No idea what that was. I couldn’t hear what the bartender said. I just nodded. It was the drink of the day or something. My preference is gin and tonic.”
He made a face. “Now that’s gross. Gin gives me a hangover.”
They went back to silence for a few moments, and then her stomach growled.
He spoke again. “I thought about waking you for dinner, but you looked so…”
“Yeah. I’ve been working too many hours for too many years. I can’t tell you when I’ve had a nap like that. Nor can I tell you when I’ve been as stressed as I was this afternoon.” Her voice faded. She’d nearly had a meltdown.
“The main dining room is still open if you want to go eat a sit-down meal. Or we could hit one of the dozen choices on the lido deck.” He hesitated, and then turned to face her fully. “Or, if I’m being presumptuous and you’d rather I left you alone so you can enjoy your vacation, you can do whatever you want.”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “No. I mean, you’re fine. We should probably clear the air, so we don’t spend the week walking on eggshells.”
“I don’t think I feel like rehashing the past,” he stated in a harsh tone. “But I’m not opposed making a plan we can both agree on for the week. I haven’t had a vacation in forever, so I don’t intend to let this ruin my fun. I’m sure you can agree with me on that.”
“Yes.” Her voice was soft. Mousy. Almost a squeak. She could hardly breathe, listening to him. For one thing, his voice was deeper and sexier than it used to be, and she felt her insides wanting to squirm. For another thing, he was pissed, and he didn’t intend to let her forget it. Even if he was going to be cordial.
“So, let’s set some boundaries and make a plan,” he proposed.
“Okay.” More mousy. More squeaky. Dammit.
He twisted his neck around to face the room. “The bed is big. We have no other options. Surely we can share it without too much difficulty.”
She nodded. Her mind went to places it should not. Visions of his naked chest, his broad shoulders, his thighs… It had been so long since she’d touched him. Did he really think they could sleep next to each other without a problem? The thought of climbing between those sheets so close to him made her nearly hyperventilate.
And what was she going to wear? She had expected to be sleeping with Karla, so she hadn’t brought sexy lingerie or anything. But she also hadn’t brought nun’s attire. It was going to be warm all week. She had tiny tank tops and flimsy shorts and a few cute nighties.
“You’re going to have to help me out here, Ellie. I’m not a mind reader.”
She flinched and lowered one foot to the floor. “Sorry. I’m not sure what to say. Whatever you want to do is fine.” After all, I’m the one who broke up with you. I should get no say in what happens from here.
He narrowed his gaze. “Not good enough.”
“Why not?” She sat up straighter. His look was so intense, it pierced her. Yeah, he was pissed. Her bottom lip quivered, and she pulled it in between her teeth. She had caused him so much pain, and he had not forgiven her. Why should he?
He groaned and tipped his head back. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?” She had no idea what he was talking about.
He shoved off the chair, took a long drink from his bottle, and leaned over her. His hands landed on the arms of the chair, pinning her. His face was inches from hers. “Cry. Don’t cry. I can’t take it when you cry. It ruins my legitimate mad.” He pushed off the chair and took two strides into the room.
For a moment, she sat there, stunned, watching his back, unable to do anything else. A tear escaped, and she swiped it away. She would not cry in front of him. She took a deep breath and followed him into the small room. Leaning against the open sliding door, she found her voice. “I’m sorry. I’ll do my best. I’m emotional. I’ve had a rough… It doesn’t matter. Just…” She sucked in air. “Just give me some time to pull myself together. A full night’s rest will help.”
He nodded, his back to her. “Fine.” His suitcase was open, and he was fumbling around in it.
Her stomach made its emptiness known again. “I guess I should go find something to eat.” She couldn’t imagine going through the motions of chewing or swallowing, but she was hungry.
He nodded again. “Okay.” He pulled out a shirt, tossed it on the bed, a
nd unbuttoned the one he was wearing. Seconds later, his white summer shirt landed on the bed, and he picked up the stylish maroon polo and pulled it over his head.
She watched every second, holding her breath. He was so gorgeous. A few tattoos graced his back that hadn’t been there when they were teenagers, but other than that, he was exactly as she remembered, but better.
Finally, he faced her. “I don’t feel like getting dressed up, so I’m going to hit the lido deck. You want to come with me or go separate ways?”
“I’ll go with you.” Her voice was so soft. It was all she could manage.
“Okay. Let’s go then.” He leaned down and grabbed her sandals, handed them to her, and waited for her to take them.
She slid them on her feet. Nothing had been done in their room yet. No unpacking. Nothing. The suitcases sat where the cabin steward had left them. Except for the one Noah had opened.
“I should probably fix my makeup and comb my hair,” she suggested.
He waved a hand toward the small bathroom.
She eased past him, unable to do so without touching him. After grabbing her makeup bag from her carry-on, she entered the restroom and shut the door. And then she breathed.
Holy mother of God. What the absolute hell had Karla and Layton been thinking? This was the most ridiculous arrangement they could have concocted.
Her hands were shaking as she cleaned off her mascara and reapplied it. She brushed her teeth, combed through her thick hair, and applied lip gloss. It was going to have to be enough. Noah was waiting for her.
When she opened the door, she found him leaning casually against the desk, ankles crossed, gaze on her as if he’d been watching for her to return. His expression was serious. Sad. So many emotions played across his face.
“I’m ready,” she declared, smoothing a hand down her wrinkled dress. She didn’t have the energy to change, nor did she have any idea what she would put on or where. They were really going to have to discuss this arrangement soon. It wasn’t as if changing could occur in the bathroom. It was more like a two-foot closet. Even a person her size could barely turn around in there. If she set clothing down on any surface, it would get wet or fall on the floor.
He had his loafers back on, and he opened the door and let her pass under his arm. He even handed her a keycard, though she had no idea where he’d gotten it. She’d probably dropped it on the bed or floor when she returned earlier, arriving as if she’d come from a death march to the gallows.
She followed him down the hallway, slightly to his left. She couldn’t remember where the lido deck was, but he managed to get them there easily.
Silently, they wandered through the entire floor, learning the options they would be selecting from for the next seven days as if by mutual agreement. When they got back where they’d started, he finally spoke. “I think I’m going to do the pasta bar. You?”
“That actually sounds good. I’ll do the same.” She could choose something light and easy to eat. Her uncertainty about her ability to chew and swallow still lingered. Especially if she was going to share a table with Noah.
He nodded, and they headed toward the scent of red sauce and garlic. This floor of the ship appeared to be mostly comprised of food from end to end. Half of it was inside and half outside. It wasn’t too crowded, but most people were probably in the dining room for their first perfect meal. She knew they had an assigned table at a specific time because it was on her keycard, but that didn’t mean they had to make that choice every night. Or any night for that matter.
As if Noah read her mind, he turned toward her, handed her a plate from the stack next to the pasta bar, and said, “A cruise is all about the dining room. We should eat there most nights. But I think we’re both a little off-kilter tonight. Let’s grab some food, find a seat, and talk.”
She agreed with another nod and followed him through the line, selecting pasta, red sauce, Alfredo sauce, Caesar salad, and a bread stick. Her plate was full, but she hoped she might find the energy to eat once she got started.
Noah turned back to her at the end of the line. “Inside or out?”
“Either is fine.”
He cocked his head. “Is that going to be your standard answer all week?”
“Maybe…”
He sighed, grabbed his tray, and found them a table out on the deck. “It’s nice outside. Hopefully the weather will be like this the entire time.”
“It should be. I looked at the report.”
“Of course you did.” She wasn’t sure how to read his words, but a glance at his face showed that half-smile. He was teasing. And he knew her well, even fourteen years later.
After settling in his chair and opening his napkin, he spoke again, “I don’t think we ever arrived at any event unprepared for the weather in high school. You always knew when it was going to rain or if we needed sunscreen or if it would be too cool for short sleeves. Nothing got by you.”
He was right.
“I like to be prepared.”
He dug into his plate of food and groaned immediately. “Delicious. It’s not the main dining room, but it’s still fantastic.”
She took a tentative bite after him and agreed. The creamy Alfredo sauce melted in her mouth and urged her to continue. Before she knew it, her plate was clean. She lifted her gaze to find Noah leaning back in his chair, elbows on the arms, fingers threaded loosely across his lap. He was watching her. “I always loved how you enjoy your food.”
She blushed and wiped her mouth. He said nothing else for a long time, but his gaze never left her. She could feel him soaking her in. Judging? Deciding what to do next?
Two small children raced past them, dripping from the pool, giggling. She watched them, a smile forming on her face.
“You still like kids,” he pointed out.
She said nothing.
“You used to babysit them. You told me you wanted four.” His gaze was still pinning her in place.
“I was young.” She fidgeted, unable to stand his scrutiny. Was he going to reminisce like this all week, dissecting her? Because it would kill her. She remembered the plans they’d made as if it were yesterday. He’d been the one who wanted four kids. She was pretty sure he’d named them too. He’d had it all planned out. Every detail. Finish high school, join the navy, become a SEAL. The security from his job would launch them into the next phase—marriage and kids. A chill shook her body. If only life had been that simple.
“You were eighteen when you left me.”
His choice of words made her flinch.
“An adult. You were always so vibrant and happy. Excited about the future. Excited about college. Excited about us…” His voice trailed off.
She fought back the tears that threatened again. “People change,” she whispered.
“No, they don’t.”
She flinched.
He leaned forward, setting his elbows on the table. “They don’t change. I’ve thought about it thousands of times. Something else changed. Something happened. You wouldn’t tell me then. Will you tell me now?”
She shook her head slowly. “It’s water under the bridge, Noah.”
“It’s more like a tsunami coming up over the ship right now. Do you know how many times I’ve asked myself this question?”
She could imagine. She played with the corner of her napkin, staring at her empty plate. This week was going to be a disaster if he badgered her constantly over their breakup fourteen years ago.
He continued. “I’ve beaten myself to death trying to figure out if I did something or said something to make you turn away from me. I considered crawling back to you so many times over the years to beg your forgiveness for my unknown transgression.”
She jerked. It shocked her to know he’d thought about her that often.
“I can see why Layton thought this would be a good idea. If you’ve spoken of me to Karla over the years the way I’ve talked about you with Layton, then no wonder they thought they should try to get u
s to reconnect. Ingenious really. Trapping us on a cruise ship in the same cubicle of a room for a week.” He chuckled, but it wasn’t with humor. His voice was slightly scary.
She wanted to shove away from the table, run from him, hide. Anywhere. But like he said, they were trapped for seven days on a cruise ship that no longer seemed as large as it had in the brochure.
“You have, haven’t you? Spoken of me to Karla over the years, I mean.”
She swallowed, but didn’t answer him. It was a moot point. Of course she had.
“Interesting. I’m trying to wrap my head around this and figure out what to do next.” He lifted one hand and rubbed his chin with his thumb. “I mean, we have so many options. I keep changing directions. To no avail. You don’t seem willing to respond to any tactic I take.
“If I prod you, you’ll retreat from me. If I don’t, we’ll be living a lie. I could push you away and leave you to yourself for a week. I’ve considered that option. We could agree not to speak to each other and come and go from the cabin at different times. Hell, one of us could sleep days and the other nights. Shifts.”
She felt the blood draining from her face at his speech.
“Or I could take a different path, ignore our history, and charm the pants off you until you climb willingly into my side of the bed and take me into your sweet, sexy body.”
She jerked her gaze up at his unexpected words, her eyes going wide as she met his smirk.
“At least I know you’re listening.”
There were no words. He was all over the place. She had no idea how to respond.
“I think something in the middle. I mean, we’re stuck together for seven days. Physically, I’m as attracted to you as I was fourteen years ago.” He shook his head rapidly. “No, that’s not true. You’re far more gorgeous than you were then. A woman. Not a teenager. You have curves you didn’t have then. If I didn’t know you and I was trolling around on this ship looking for someone to woo, I would still pick you over every other woman on the boat.”
Hot SEAL, Red Wine (SEALs in Paradise) Page 3
