Hot Number

by Sheridon Smythe

  So what was up? If he didn't know better—and he definitely knew better—he'd think she was out to seduce him.

  Ha! As if she had to try. As if he wasn't very ready and extremely willing to race back to their cabin and begin another repeat of the night before. And maybe this time he'd let her scream, instead of smothering her scream with his mouth. Let their fellow passengers know that he could make Ashley scream.

  Let Deckland Jennings know he wasn't the only bag of wild oats in the barn. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley shiver, as if she were cold. He pretended not to notice.

  She couldn't have his jacket.

  She could not have his jacket.

  He needed it to cover the bulge in his pants.

  * * * *

  Several feet separated them, yet Ashley could feel Michael's tension. He seemed distracted and irritated. As if he regretted his decision to join her and wished he'd never left the casino.

  Not for the first time, Ashley questioned her decision to try and help him. After what he'd done to her—to their marriage—why would she put her heart and her ego in jeopardy? She owed Michael nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  Well, then, she wasn't doing it for him, she decided, she was doing it for Kim.

  The sudden applause startled Ashley. She hastily joined them, not wanting Michael to become suspicious of her motives. The comedy show was over. What now? It was only nine o'clock by her watch.

  The casino didn't close until midnight.

  Before she could change her mind, she rose and held out her hand. Michael stared at it, unmoving. Ashley swallowed hard and said, “They've got a live band in the Coconut Lounge. Would you like to go have a drink, maybe dance a little?"

  Michael's gaze moved from her hand to her arm. Then further up, slowly, until it reached her smiling face. Ashley gamely held onto her smile as his dark eyes studied her. Inside, she was shaking. Just being with Michael set her teeth on edge and made mush of her insides.

  "Why not?” he drawled, taking her hand.

  It was hot. So hot it made her strangle a gasp. A jolt shot along her arm, reminding her that touching Michael was dangerous.

  Insanity.

  Her nipples sprang erect, tingling with anticipation. With the memory of his mouth, hot and sometimes rough, sometimes tender.

  She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip until she felt the pain.

  "Are you okay?” Michael asked, his voice low and raspy in her ear.

  Ashley managed to nod. She opened her eyes and began to walk to the door, hoping to tug free of his hand, praying he didn't know what was really wrong. He wouldn't let go. Instead, he pulled her back to him. Passengers milled around them, a few grumbling.

  Beneath his penetrating, heated gaze, Ashley tried to keep from shivering. “I told you, I'm fine."

  "No you're not."

  She shook her head. “I don't know what you—"

  "Yes, you do. You know exactly what I mean.” Michael tugged her closer, until her aching breasts touched his chest. His voice turned gravelly, almost angry, but with an underlying sexual tension Ashley couldn't fail to miss. “What are you doing, Ash?"

  Ashley tried not to pant. Why did the man have to be so sexy? She licked her lips. “Trying to be friends? Is that so unbelievable? We're on the same ship. We're sharing the same cabin. We used to be married. It would be childish to try to avoid each other."

  "It would be wise, is what it would be,” Michael muttered, his gaze lingering on her mouth. “After last night—"

  "I agree that we should forget last night,” Ashley said hastily. “Let's just be friends and try to enjoy the cruise.” They had only been married a year, she thought with genuine despair. So why did it seem as if she'd known him all her life?

  Michael laid a burning hand on her hip and slowly ran it along her thigh until he reached the top of her short dress. He grasped the hem with his fingers, rubbing her skin with his knuckles until it tingled and burned. “You make it very hard to forget,” he whispered.

  Ashley's knees went weak at his double meaning. She had to do something, and she had to do it fast. People were beginning to stare. “I'll go back to the cabin and change. I—I didn't realize it would have this effect on you."

  A tiny smile danced at the corners of his mouth, mesmerizing Ashley. “You didn't?"

  "No, I didn't. I bought these clothes with Tom in mind.” The moment the words were out, she knew she'd said the wrong thing. Or was it the right thing? Yes, yes, it was the right thing to say. Of course it was.

  Last night had been a mistake, a weakness on both sides. One of them needed to say something to remind them they had someone waiting back home.

  She had Tom.

  He had Candy.

  The air between them instantly chilled. Ashley told herself that she was glad, glad, glad! Helping Michael was one thing; sleeping with him again was something else entirely.

  Sleeping. Ha! To call what happened between them sleeping was ridiculous.

  "Tom. Right.” Michael's smile didn't quite reach his eyes, Ashley noted. “Let's go get that drink. We can celebrate our engagements."

  "Yes, we should.” Then why didn't she feel like celebrating? With a frustrated sigh, Ashley allowed Michael to lead her through the door and in the direction of the bar.

  She wanted Michael, but she didn't want to want Michael. Was he feeling the same perverse tug-of-war?

  "Yoo-hoo! Ashley! Michael!"

  They both turned in the direction of that singsong voice, spotting Birdie and Bart, along with Deckland and Tanya, at a table by the bar.

  Birdie was waving madly. “I guess we should join them,” Ashley said reluctantly, glancing at the bar to see if Rick the bartender was working.

  He was nowhere in sight.

  "Yeah, I guess we should.” Michael slipped his arm around her waist and together they weaved their way to the table where everyone there believed them to be happily married.

  "Don't you two look marvelous!” Birdie exclaimed, her eyes literally gleaming as she looked them up and down. “Isn't she a knock-out?” she demanded of Michael.

  "Yes, she is."

  He sounded so sincere Ashley couldn't help but blush. Her gaze met Deckland's. He winked, and she smiled, trying to silently let him know that so far so good.

  "Oh, good!” Tanya said, looking young and sassy in a slinky black skirt. “Someone new to dance with. No offense, Deckland, but you're a bit too tall for me. I'm getting a crick in my neck looking up at you."

  Michael took the seat next to Tanya, leaving Ashley to sit next to Birdie. Ashley told herself that she didn't care if he sat on Tanya's lap. And when he immediately led Tanya onto the dance floor, she assured herself that she wasn't a bit jealous.

  Birdie, apparently, didn't believe it. She patted Ashley on the shoulder, her tone matter-of-fact. “Don't worry, dear. He's just using Tanya for cooling off purposes."

  Ashley turned to her, completely confused. “Excuse me?"

  "I said he's using Tanya to cool off.” Birdie pointed to the jacket Michael had left behind as she added outrageously, “He gets an erection when he's around you. That's why he keeps the jacket held in front of him. He's not attracted to Tanya, so when he talks to her or dances with her, it takes his mind off you."

  Ashley burst out laughing. She'd never heard of anything so wild and preposterous in her life! But coming from Birdie, she supposed she shouldn't be surprised.

  Bart, apparently, suffered the same affliction. “She's right, Ashley. The boy can't keep it down around you. And he's having trouble hiding it, too."

  Convinced she'd been thrown into an old episode of the Twilight Zone, Ashley tried again to laugh it off. The odd couple was not only embarrassing, but persistent.

  "If you don't believe us,” Birdie said, “watch him when he comes back to the table. The moment his eyes land on you, he'll throw his jacket over his lap."

  Pressing her hand to her hot face, Ashley tried to change the subject. “
Have you heard anything about your stolen brooch, Birdie?"

  "No, but the captain assured us personally that he would do everything in his power to find the thief.” Birdie nudged her in the ribs, proving that Ashley hadn't succeeded in distracting her. “Here comes your man, dear. Just watch."

  Tanya was laughing as she took her seat, her face flushed and her eyes sparkling. Michael had a way with women, Ashley thought, ignoring another stab of jealousy. How could Michael not be interested in Tanya? She was gorgeous. And single.

  Unerringly, her gaze strayed to Michael's crotch. Nothing out of the ordinary there.

  Her gaze collided with his. She blushed and he flushed, taking his jacket from the back of his chair and draping it over his lap.

  To hope the action would go unnoticed was to live in the desert and hope for snow.

  "See!” Birdie crowed, pointing—actually pointing—at Michael's lap. “It's rising right now!"

  Ashley stood so fast she tipped her chair backward. It fell with a crash, but she didn't notice.

  Or care.

  Face flaming, she fled the bar and the outrageous couple she couldn't bring herself to dislike. She raced past laughing couples and kissing couples and fighting couples. She ran until she was out of breath and out of running space. Which happened to be the upper deck.

  Breathing hard, she moved to the railing and gripped it with white-knuckled fingers, staring out over the darkened ocean. This cruise was either a nightmare or a fantasy.

  She couldn't decide which.

  Seeing Michael again filled her with mixed emotions. She still resented him, the pain he'd caused her. Because of his uncontrollable libido, he'd wrecked their perfect marriage.

  Okay, so maybe their marriage hadn't been perfect, but she'd believed they were happy. Right up until the moment she opened the hotel room door to find him in bed with another woman. For the first time in a long, long time, Ashley replayed the ugly scene in her mind. She closed her eyes and swallowed a sob, fighting the pain. She'd believed herself beyond the pain. After two years of self-therapy, she should have been beyond the pain.

  She was wrong. Seeing Michael again had resurrected not only the impossible attraction between them but the painful memories of why they had divorced.

  He had been unfaithful.

  She had been unforgiving.

  Unfaithful plus unforgiving equals divorce.

  She could never forget or forgive, and he couldn't turn back the clock and make it not happen.

  Behind her, she sensed, rather than saw Michael approach. He was quiet so long she thought maybe she was wrong. Then he spoke, his voice quiet and serious.

  "I don't think I've ever met anyone quite like Birdie and Bart.” He came to stand beside her, his fingers curling around the railing next to her own.

  Immediately, the rhythm of her heart increased and her breasts began to ache, as if he had some type of freaky mental control over her emotions.

  "You might not believe this,” he continued, “But I seriously don't think they realize how embarrassing they can be."

  His hand closed over hers and she took a deep, steadying breath, waiting for him to continue.

  "You have to admit, Ash, that the Scotts are eccentric people. Kim would love them."

  The tension drained from her taut body, leaving her weak. She chuckled. “Yeah, you're right. Kim would love them.” She forced herself to look at his face. “You're not embarrassed?"

  "Should I be? I've never tried to deny the fact that you turn me on.” He shrugged his broad shoulders. “So why should I try to deny it now or become embarrassed over the fact?"

  "Well, for starters, we've been divorced for two years."

  "So?"

  "And you've been seeing other people."

  "Just as you have."

  "But I'm a woman. My reaction isn't so obvious—"

  "It isn't?” His hot gaze touched her breasts for a brief moment. When he looked again at her, she saw a flash of satisfaction in his brown eyes. “I can just look at you and your nipples respond as if I'd touched you."

  She opened her mouth to lie then quickly closed it. Denying the obvious would only make her look like a hypocrite. Instead, she angled her chin. “If I could change it, I would."

  "So would I. The only thing we can do is try to ignore it and hope that it goes away.” He let go of her hand and raked it through his hair, staring out to sea, his expression suddenly pensive. “I know you don't believe this, but I had no intention of cheating on Candy. It was the first time."

  Ashley swallowed a bitter remark that would have revealed that she cared. “I believe you.” She didn't, but that didn't matter now. “I feel really bad about cheating on Tom, too. I love him, and I don't want it to happen again."

  "So what do we do?” he asked.

  "We can keep fighting it,” she suggested, but even to her own ears, she sounded weak. “We've got five more days and four nights."

  "Yeah,” Michael said, then added dryly, “I'm going to need a new jacket."

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Ten

  Two a.m.

  Ashley had never been more wide-awake.

  The king sized bed was huge, allowing Michael to keep a safe distance from her, yet she could still feel his body heat. Smell his after-shave.

  Feel every move he made. Hear every rustle of the sheet as he stirred restlessly. And she knew he was as far from sleep as her.

  Maybe it was the clothes they were wearing. Michael had left on his jeans, and she had put on the one pair of jogging pants she'd brought, along with a T-shirt. She'd kept on her bra, too, just for the hell of it.

  She was hot.

  She suspected he was, too. And it wasn't entirely due to the humidity in the room.

  What was happening to them? Why couldn't they leave each other alone? After the hell he'd put her through, how could she even think about wanting him, let alone have sex?

  Body chemistry. Deckland Jennings was writing a book about body chemistry, so it must be something big. Something important.

  Something impossible. That old rogue itch.

  "You awake?"

  At Michael's whispered words, she stiffened. She let out a slow, silent breath, trying to decide whether to fess up to being awake or pretend to be asleep.

  Finally, she opted for honesty. “Yeah. I'm awake.” It was pitch black in the room. She stared in the direction she knew the ceiling was in, her eyes burning.

  "Wanna talk?"

  "About what?"

  "Anything. How are your parents?"

  Ashley heard the underlying strain in his voice. Sounded just like her own. It was small comfort to know she wasn't in this hell alone. “Mom's gone back to school."

  "Really?"

  She smiled at the surprise in his voice. “Yeah. She wants to go back to work part time, as a substitute teacher."

  "Good for her. And your dad?"

  "He's grumbling about it, but he knows Mom will do what she wants."

  "Like you."

  "Yeah. Like me.” She turned onto her side, but kept her distance. She couldn't see him, but she easily imagined him watching her with those hot, brown eyes. His chest would be bare with the exception of soft, curly chest hair that narrowed as it trailed along his stomach...

  There wasn't a bone in her body that didn't ache to reach out and touch him. “What about Sam? Is he doing okay?” Sam was Michael's step-dad and Kim's real dad. Michael's mother had died of a heart attack right after their divorce.

  "I think he's getting out more, seeing a few people."

  "Really?” Ashley was glad for him. Sam had been a good stepfather to Michael, and a good husband to Lilly, Michael and Kim's mother. “I'm glad. He deserves another chance to be happy."

  Without hesitation, Michael said, “Yes, he does. Mom would have wanted him to find someone else."

  The covers rustled as he moved. Seconds later, she felt his hand on her face. He hooked her hair behind her ear—
as he'd done a thousand times when they were dating and later, when they were married—then cupped her cheek. His skin was hot against her own.

  Her heart started a heavy, teeth-jarring rhythm.

  "It's not working, Ash. When I'm near you, my body has a mind of its own."

  She should have told him right then that it wasn't going to happen. She should have encouraged him to continue to fight it. Instead, she hopped from the bed and felt her way around it to the bathroom. “This—this humidity is making me all hot and sweaty.” Wrong words! “I'm going to take a shower.” A cold one. A very long, very cold shower. If it worked for men, maybe it would work for women, too.

  One of them had to try and maintain control!

  Shaking inside, Ashley slammed the bathroom door, half laughing, half groaning as she stripped down and twisted the cold water knob on to full force. She pulled back the shower curtain and stepped beneath the cold spray.

  Only it wasn't cold. It was tepid, at best. Dismayed, Ashley peered at the knobs, double-checking to make sure she hadn't touched the hot water knob. No, she hadn't.

  Tepid water would not help, she discovered, stifling the urge to laugh hysterically. Her body still throbbed with need; her mind remained cluttered with vivid, erotic images of Michael lying in the bed.

  Only in her mind he was naked and aroused. Ready for her.

  She felt as if she'd been on a rigid diet of no sex for two years and was suddenly faced with an abundance of it in the form of Michael. Wasn't that the truth, anyway? She hadn't thought about sex much in the past two years because she hadn't allowed herself to think about Michael for more than a few seconds at a time.

  Now, she had no choice.

  Facing the water, she thrust her head back and let the strong pressure pound her face and aching breasts. She would stay in here until she could think of something besides Michael and raw, orgasmic sex.

  The rings on the shower curtain suddenly jangled as it was yanked aside.

  "It won't work,” Michael growled into her ear as he hooked his arms around her waist and pulled her roughly against his hard body. He let go long enough to reach around her and turn the hot water knob slightly. “I've already tried it."

  Then he grabbed the bar of soap and began to rub it over her breasts and stomach, working his way down to the part of her that throbbed the most. His fingers were soapy and slick, his breath hot and fast in her ear.