by Dani Collins
She’d died before her dream could become reality, but he was still striving to make it come true. There was no reason to suffer pangs of infidelity just because he wanted to play out an affair with a particular woman for a little longer than a weekend.
He clenched his hands on the wheel, telling himself that the fact Tiffany had been a virgin weighed into his decision to extend their association. No man wanted to be a woman’s first and her worst. He owed her more time and consideration than the average jaded socialite.
And she happened to have a sexual appetite to match his own. He kept mistresses when it suited him for that very reason. This was still a temporary arrangement, and Tiffany understood that’s all he ever intended to have with any woman. His heart belonged to Luiza. If he couldn’t marry her, he wouldn’t marry anyone.
Having relegated Tiffany to her rightful place in his mind, he was ready to see her again. He nodded at the first mate, and the young man swung the sail to catch more gust.
* * *
Tiffany was falling out of bed.
She woke with a cry and a start, arms splayed to orient herself on the mattress. The room glowed a brassy yellow, the bed was a wreck and her body felt as if she’d been thrown down a flight of stairs. She held very still, trying to come to grips with the odd feeling the boat was not just bobbing in its slip, but moving.
It was. They were at sail!
She’d been on sailboats, but unlike the sharp angle that resulted in stumbling around to grip her way across a deck, this catamaran was only a hair off level, allowing her to rush the window and snap up the blind. Yep. Not another boat in sight. Just a speck of land on the horizon and glittering waves in every other direction.
“What the hell, Ryzard?” she said aloud.
Glancing around for her clothes, she caught sight of herself and cringed. Her hair was naturally straight, and all that sweaty sex had weighed it down into a droopy haystack. The side of her breast felt raw where it had been abraded by stubble and when she turned her nose to her shoulder, she could swear she smelled Ryzard’s unique scent on her skin.
An odd, sexy feeling overcame her, making her want to loll in bed and call him to her, but she gave herself a firm shake. Where the hell was he taking her?
A very quick shower later, she dressed in her pants and sleeveless top to go in search of him. She forced herself not to be so cowardly as to wear the mask, but she still peered around corners, avoiding his staff.
She found him lounging in the shade of the aft deck, taking up all the cushions of the built-in sofa as he read his tablet and sipped a drink made with tomato juice. A stalk of celery rested against its salted rim. He set it down when she appeared.
“I thought a few sharp turns might shake you out of bed,” he said.
“Are you familiar with the term kidnapping?”
“I have business in Cuba.”
“You’re taking me to Cuba?” She gave a wild look around. Nope, not one hint of assistance in sight.
“Much as I’d love to anchor somewhere private and shirk my responsibilities, I can’t. My weekend was booked for Q Virtus, but now we’ll have to carve out our time around other commitments.”
“Commitments like the one I made to get on a plane with my brother two hours ago? He’ll be frantic.” Dumbfounded, she braced a hand on her forehead trying to gather her scattered wits enough to formulate a plan.
“My staff spoke to him when they collected your things.”
“Your staff collected my things. And brought them here?” She pointed to the deck, so astounded she could barely form words. “After they informed my brother that I was carrying on with you?”
“They’re discreet enough to simply say you’re my guest. Naturally he needed to be told why you weren’t meeting him as arranged. Why are you upset? Relax. I realize you avoid the sun, but you can enjoy the view from the shade. I have a masseuse aboard, if you need.”
“Ryzard,” she said with a ring of near hysteria in her tone. “You said we’d stay in dock.”
“For a few hours. We did. You overslept.”
“You should have woken me! Not said things to my brother. He doesn’t need to know about this. No one does. It’s nobody’s business but mine!” She splayed a hand on the place in her chest where he was taking up way more room than he should. Where he was lodged very close to places no one was allowed to go.
“When you called me your dirty little secret, I didn’t realize you meant it,” he replied stiffly.
Oh, she would not feel guilty. Maybe she was overreacting, but he didn’t realize what kind of firestorm he would have set off with her family. This was bad.
“You should have asked me,” she insisted. “And let me talk to my brother. Is there some way I can contact him?” Panic gripped her.
“If your mobile doesn’t work, ask the captain for the ship to shore.” He still sounded stung, but dealing with Ryzard came second to smoothing things over with Christian. What would he think of her?
She’d left her mobile in her room at the club and found it in her purse in the cabin where her things had been unpacked. Not Ryzard’s cabin, she noted, but a separate one—and why did that bother her? She was upset with him, not supposed to be mooning about what it meant if he set her up to sleep apart from him.
Keying her code into her phone, she saw that her brother had left her a dozen messages.
“What the hell, Tiff,” were his first words when she reached him.
“I know.” She closed her eyes. She really should have thought this through before dialing. She was just so frantic to undo what had been done. But how?
“How does something like this even happen?” he demanded.
His askance reaction crystallized the confused self-consciousness inside her, so she felt very fragile and very brittle all of a sudden. Ryzard, despite his assumptions and autocratic ways, was not the villain. The problem with her family knowing about their affair, she realized, was the impossible vision she was supposed to live up to.
“You’re the expert on picking up women. You know how it works,” she retorted. “He came on to me with a great line. I fell for it.”
The door clicked and Ryzard entered in time to hear most of what she said.
She averted her gaze from his darkening expression, prickling as her brother said, “You’re too smart for that.”
“Am I? Maybe I’m weak and desperate. Maybe I’m grateful for attention from any man.”
In her periphery, Ryzard’s arms folded and he said in an ominous undertone, “Is that true?”
“I knew it. He’s taking advantage of you.”
She sucked in a jagged breath, more hurt than words could express, but it was the ugly truth they’d all been dancing around since her accident. She wasn’t worth a man’s attention.
She flashed a look of resentment at Ryzard, angry that he was witnessing her humiliation. At the same time, she wished he didn’t look so thunderous. She was desperately in need of backup. Instead, he’d probably leave her on a sandbar somewhere, but that was almost better than sending her back to the bosom of her kin.
“Thanks, Chris,” she choked. “Thanks for letting me know there’s no way he could possibly be attracted to me. I’m some broken, awful thing that ceased to be valuable when I ceased to be perfect. Shame rains upon us and it’s my fault. Has Mom taken to her room?”
A weighted pause. She didn’t dare look at Ryzard.
“I didn’t say that,” Christian said quietly.
“But it’s true! Tell me something. How many times have you stolen a weekend with someone? Hundreds,” she quickly provided. “How many times have you had to answer for it? None. And I never worked up the nerve to even kiss another man because I had a reputation to uphold. Not just mine, but the entire family’s. Paulie’s even.”
&nb
sp; He swore. “Okay, I get it. You’re entitled to a private life, but this isn’t exactly the time, is it?” he seethed. “Or the man.”
“You haven’t told Mom and Dad, have you?”
“I didn’t know what to think, Tiff! This isn’t like you.”
“When have I ever had a chance to be who I am?” she cried. “I’ve been Dad’s daughter, Paulie’s intended. The bride who wore bandages. For God’s sake, I’m an adult. A married, widowed woman. I shouldn’t have to defend myself like I’ve committed a federal crime.”
“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. Truly.”
“How bad is it?” she asked, hanging her head, weighted by guilt despite all she’d just said. “Do I have to talk to them or better to wait?”
“They don’t know what to think, either. But they don’t want to see you get hurt in any way, ever again. Is this thing serious with Vrbancic?”
She glanced at Ryzard. He didn’t look quite so much as if he wanted to wring her neck, but he had an air of imperative surrounding him. As if he didn’t intend to wait much longer for her to give her attention back to him.
“Not, um, really,” she murmured.
Christian’s sharp sigh grated in her ear.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss where you married everyone you ever slept with?” she railed.
“So it’s gone that far.”
He didn’t have to take a tone like the septic was backed up!
“Goodbye, Chris. Tell Mom and Dad whatever you want.” She stabbed the end button and threw her phone onto the bed. Then dropped a pillow on top of it for good measure. And added a punch that left a deep indent.
“I’d like to say I’m above caring what people think of me, but when my family judges me, it hurts.” Her baleful gaze met one that didn’t so much judge as measure.
“You knew they would disapprove. That’s why you were upset.”
“Not because it’s you. They would have been scandalized no matter who I slept with. Although, I’m sure there’s some shock value that they sent me to talk to you and here I am. As God is my witness, I’ll never, ever tell my mother I didn’t even see your face the first time, let alone know your name.” She buried her hot face in her clammy hands, reacting to all that had happened since she’d woken so abruptly. “This isn’t the way I usually behave, Ryzard. I can’t blame them for being shocked.”
“Be careful how much you hate your parents, draga. They’re the only ones you have.”
“You’re going to judge me now?” She lifted her face in challenge.
“I’m only offering the benefit of my experience.”
“You hated your parents?” She didn’t believe it.
“I was angry with them for sending me away. Keeping me away from my home. It felt like a rejection.”
He hadn’t explained that part before. A pang struck at how lonely and discarded he must have felt.
Beneath the pillow, her phone burbled. Tiffany made a noise and started from the room, then said, “Actually, I want to change. It’s too hot for long pants.”
Ryzard closed the door, but remained in the room. Apparently he intended to watch. Hell. The man gave her goose bumps without making any effort at all.
Skimming past the one-shoulder and long-sleeved shirts and dresses, she pulled out a skimpy sundress she would have worn only in the privacy of her suite yesterday. It was patterned busily in neon pink and green and yellow, hopefully bright enough to draw attention from her equally busy skin patterns.
The scared mouse in her wanted to hide under layers, but a spunky, more daring part of her wanted to test whether she still held his interest.
Stripping unceremoniously, even dropping her bra, she shrugged her arms under the spaghetti straps and tugged it into place, then picked up the flared skirt in a little curtsy, spinning under the direction of his twirled finger.
“Adorable. Now come here.”
“And risk making love on that telephone? Possibly landing on buttons that could have serious consequences? No. You promised me a meal and we skipped lunch.”
“Yet I recall being very satisfied with everything I tasted,” he mused, one hand on the door latch. The other caressed her bottom as she exited in front of him.
Her blood skipped in her arteries, and she was blushing hard as she led him outside to where a table was set and chilled wine was ready to be uncorked. The sun sat low on the horizon, ducking beneath the shade to strike off the silver and crystal.
Ryzard held a chair in a corner for her and asked for a filtered shade to be drawn.
“I’m sorry I was such a pill,” she said contritely. “You took me by surprise with this.” She indicated the extravagance of the cat. “I thought we’d part ways this afternoon and maybe I’d see you with someone else at a future Q Virtus event. This is better,” she allowed, but met his gaze with a level one. “But I do have to work.”
“Apology accepted. And I’ve already instructed my crew to set up a work space in the cabin where your things were unpacked. It should be completed by morning.”
“They’re going to work while I’m sleeping in there?” she asked, already anticipating his reply.
“You won’t be in there, draga. And you won’t be sleeping.”
* * *
Ryzard flipped through his emails on his tablet while he waited for Tiffany to finish her call. They’d had a surprisingly productive morning, despite lazing in bed first thing. An easy, affectionate companionship had fallen between them after her rather explosive reaction to waking at sea yesterday.
He still chafed a little, recalling it, even though he now understood it to be her own baggage with her family that had caused her to push him away like that. His reaction, however, continued to niggle at him no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Her claim that she was with him out of desperation had slapped him with a surprisingly sharp hand.
She was volatile. A woman as sexually passionate as she was would have strong feelings in every aspect of her life, he supposed. He could only imagine what kind of mama bear she’d be about her children.
Sucking in a breath at having taken such a bizarre turn in his mind, he lifted his head to see her set aside her phone.
“Done. Really sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize. We both have to work. I made you wait this morning.”
She gave him a look that said, Seriously? and slid her eyes to the crewman setting out their air tanks.
He grinned, amused by her blushing over his referring to the way they’d been driving each other into a frenzy, fresh out of the shower, when he’d had to take a call that couldn’t be put off. Afterward, they’d nearly ripped each other apart, and breakfast had been a quietly stunned affair when her bare foot atop his had pleased him well beyond what was reasonable.
They’d parted ways after, each moving to their separate work spaces, but he’d been distracted by her proximity. With most women, that would signal the end for him. Not with Tiffany. His brain couldn’t even contemplate an end to this. It had barely started. She was too extraordinary.
Her phone rang and she turned from removing her wrap, clad only in her bikini as she stepped toward the table where she’d left the phone. “I don’t have to get that. We’ll pretend we’re already in the water and— Oh shoot, it’s my brother. I should answer. Why are you staring?” She followed his gaze to her torso, then sent an anxious look to the crewman who had lifted her tank, ready to strap it onto her.
“I’m staring because you’re hot as hell,” Ryzard prevaricated. “Take your call or you’ll be wondering what he wanted.”
Somewhat flustered, she stabbed the phone, then held the screen before her for the video call. “Hey,” she said as she picked up her wrap and shrugged her arm into it.
Ryzard sighed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to m
ake her feel sensitive. He’d been looking at her scars, yes, but only thinking that a woman with less zeal for life would have succumbed to such injuries. Tiffany’s ferocious spirit was the reason she’d survived, and he was very glad she had.
“You’re naked?” Her brother frowned. “It’s the middle of the day. I thought it would be safe to call.”
“Excuse me, darling,” Tiffany said to Ryzard. “My brother has called to ask if the sun is over the yardarm. Could you lift the sheet and see?”
Christian sputtered, Ryzard looked to the sky for patience and his crewman buried a snort of laughter into his shirt collar. Although Ryzard had to admit it was nice to know she gave others a hard time, not just him.
“We’re about to go swimming, you idiot,” she said to her brother. “See? Bathing suit.” She ran her phone down her body as if she was scanning for radioactivity, showing him the strapless band and itsy slash of blue. Then she turned the phone to show him the equipment on the deck. “There are the breathing tanks and scuba flippers. There’s the mask that’s going to give me an anxiety attack so Ryzard will have to buddy-breathe me to the surface. Is my virtue restored? Want to tell me now why you called?”
“Dad hasn’t come across anything useful yet, but said he’d ask around.”
“Motivated, is he?” The way Tiffany’s blond lashes lifted to send a resolute look toward Ryzard made his blood kick into higher gear. “Tell him I appreciate anything he’s able to pass along.”
“As do I,” Ryzard told her as she hung up. “If you’re talking about what I think you are.”
“I asked Christian to put a bug in his ear. Dad’s not speaking to me directly right now, but I don’t know if that’s because he’s in Washington and doesn’t have time for the kind of conversation he thinks we need to have or if he’s genuinely angry. I hope you don’t mind, but I was worried Dad might—” She shrugged apologetically. “I’m his little princess. I didn’t want any grumpiness he felt toward you to come out with anyone in a position to affect your situation. If he knows I have an interest in the outcome, he’ll take care to support your petition. Or at least not damage it.”
