Toronto Collection Volume 2 (Toronto Series #6-9)

by Heather Wardell

  It stared back.

  "Problem?"

  With effort, I looked away from my dinner and up at Owen. "Um, kind of."

  He frowned. "Looks okay to me. What's wrong with it?"

  I leaned forward and said softly, "I didn't know it would have the head still on it."

  His mouth quirked. "No? Trout nearly always does."

  "Yeah, well, I've never ordered trout before. Wish I'd kept that streak alive."

  He shook his head. "You watch movies where people get cut into pieces and put into wood chippers and all sorts of horrible things, but you can't handle a fish head?"

  "It's looking at me. I think it hates me."

  We laughed, but I did see a hint of disdain in the trout's glassy eye. Though I knew it was silly, I didn't think I could deal with it. "What should I do?"

  "Eat it?"

  I held my hand over the plate so I couldn't see the head. "Only if I can do it like this."

  Owen leaned back in his chair. "You're serious."

  I nodded. "Sorry. It's just too weird."

  A flicker of annoyance crossed his face and I discarded my first thought, draping my napkin over the offending fish head, because I could tell he'd disapprove. It inspired me, though, so I picked through my half-finished salad until I found several larger-than-usual pieces of lettuce which I forked out and laid over the fish. With the face covered, it looked more like a simple fish filet, and I was able to dig in without any trouble.

  After I'd swallowed my first bite, which was indeed delicious, I looked up at him and said, "I'm okay. Now."

  He shook his head. "I had no idea you didn't know trout is served with the head on. Well, at least you figured out a way to deal with it that's not too embarrassing."

  I drank half my wine in one go so I wouldn't say what I was thinking, because blurting out, "It's not embarrassing at all, unless you make it that way," wouldn't do wonders for our evening.

  He sighed. "Sorry. Look, now you know. Right? So maybe you won't get trout again."

  Something in his tone, something parental and a little bit resigned, overcame my intentions not to speak. "Could you please not sound like you think I'm an idiot? I've never had it and I didn't know. Now I do. So it's no big deal."

  He looked confused. "Never said it was."

  He hadn't, not in those words, but the sense had been there. But maybe he hadn't intended it to be? I honestly wasn't sure, and once again I felt, as I often had during our time together, that we weren't on the same page. I sighed.

  His fork clicked against his plate as he set it down, then he reached out and took my hand. "It's okay, Mel. Let's just forget about the fish and enjoy our dinner. Yes?"

  It wasn't even about the fish any more, really. If I'd ordered it with Wendy we'd have laughed about it and moved on. Owen and I hadn't laughed and would never laugh over it, and that was my real problem. But even as I articulated it to myself I decided it was stupid. So Owen didn't find it amusing. Whatever. He was a great guy, my great guy, and I wanted to bask in that for the evening. I squeezed his hand. "Yes. Please."

  He smiled. "Good." He released me, picked up his fork, and said, "So, back to my story. There I am with a great hand, but the guy next to me seems to think he's got the winning hand. And then the next guy..."

  I ate my fish, keeping my eyes off the lettuce shroud over its head, and listened to Owen describing how he'd won the hand and the other two guys had been comically shocked, and as time passed, as we talked and laughed and drank and flirted, I felt it all coming back to me. I did love Owen. I was being silly to have any doubts or questions. He was my fiancé, and I loved him, and we were great together. Everything was fine.

  "Really?" Owen said near the end of our meal, after asking for and getting the details of how I was spending my days. "All that time sitting on deck reading?"

  I laughed. "Nowhere near as much as you've spent below deck in the casino."

  He grinned. "True, but it's different. I mostly still come on this cruise because I like gambling here. You've never been on a cruise before."

  "Which is why I've gone snorkeling and all that. But it's still nice to sit in the sun and read. I never get to do that at home."

  He nodded. "Well, I'm glad Nicky's there to hang out with you. He's a nice enough kid."

  I blinked. "He's my age. Only two years younger than you."

  With a shrug, Owen said, "Yeah, but he's a kid. He drifts through life, you know? He's not grown up, and I'm not sure he ever will be."

  I tipped my head to one side. "Are we talking Nicholas or Austin here?"

  Owen laughed. "Austin will definitely never grow up. There are too many women willing to let him be the charming little boy. I'm glad you saw through that and dumped him."

  For an instant I wanted to tell Owen about Austin's offer to make my time on the ship exciting. I didn't, though; I knew he'd be furious and it would wreck our night together. Instead I said, "I wonder if he'll ever find the right woman and settle down."

  He gave a bark of disbelieving laughter. "Not a chance. He'll never tie himself to one when he can have 'em all. Nicky will, though. I can't believe he hasn't already."

  My throat tightened, surprising me. "Why? And do you mean Nicole?"

  He shrugged. "Don't know her well enough to know. But I think maybe. She tells him what to do, and I think he likes it. No need to think for himself then."

  I wanted to defend Nicholas but two things stopped me.

  I didn't want to focus on him during what might be my only real time with Owen before the wedding.

  And I wasn't sure Owen was wrong.

  *****

  When we'd finished dinner and dessert and coffees laced with Kahlua, Owen said, "I was thinking we'd take a nice romantic walk looking at the moonlight, since you haven't had one of those yet, then call it a night. What do you think?"

  I thought that telling him I'd checked out the moonlight view with both Austin and Nicholas wouldn't do me any favors, and besides I wasn't sure any of that really counted as romantic. "Sounds great."

  And it was. Unfortunately, it was also far colder than the other nights had been since a strong wind whipped across the deck, and despite my shawl I was shivering in seconds.

  Owen slipped off his suit jacket and held it out to me. "Here."

  "I can't, you'll freeze."

  He put the jacket around my shoulders and held it in place. "I'm fine. Put it on."

  I still didn't want to leave him without it, but I did feel warmer, so I said, "Are you sure?"

  "One of us should wear it. And hurry up so I can kiss you."

  He winked at me, and I slid my arms into the black sleeves then wrapped them around his neck. He pulled me closer, his arms going around my waist beneath the jacket, and said, his lips brushing mine as he spoke, "I'll need you to keep me warm."

  Surprised, but thrilled, that he was being so affectionate in a public place where anyone might see us, I murmured, "Done," and pulled his head down so he could kiss me properly.

  He did, long and thorough, and when he drew back and said, "Want to go inside?" I was more than ready for what his roughened voice and hungry eyes told me he had in mind.

  As we turned to head for the elevator, I thought I saw a person nip out of sight around a corner, but I forgot about it as Owen kissed me again once the elevator doors closed us in.

  Back in our stateroom, a bottle of champagne and two crystal glasses awaited our arrival.

  "Gotta love room service. I thought you might like a drink before bed," he said, helping me out of his jacket then tossing it onto a chair rather than hanging it up immediately as he usually did with all his clothes to avoid wrinkles.

  I settled my shawl on the dresser. "I'd rather have you," I said, smiling at him as anticipation and alcohol swirled through me.

  "You will, trust me." He popped the cork and poured us each a half-glass. "You can have both. At the same time."

  He slipped his fingers into his glass then trace
d them along my lips.

  I shivered and licked away the champagne he'd left behind, then took his fingers into my mouth to get the rest.

  He dipped into the glass again, then again across my mouth before slipping inside.

  That was all the champagne I got, or wanted to get. He got more, though, because he traced champagne lines over my body as he undressed me then traced the same lines with kisses and nibbles.

  "God, you taste good," he murmured against my champagne-wet stomach, and I whimpered and tangled my fingers in his hair. He'd never been like this and I loved it.

  When his glass was nearly empty and I was begging for him, he poured the last drops between my breasts and licked them up hungrily then finally ripped off his clothes and slid into me.

  For the first time in our relationship I climaxed first, driven so wild by his unusual but wonderful passion that I couldn't have held back even if I'd wanted to. He followed immediately after, burying himself in me and pressing his face to my neck, and we held each other and panted in unison.

  His tongue traced along the hollow of my throat. "I love you."

  I shuddered as another ripple of pleasure swirled through me. "I love you too."

  "I think we should have champagne every night."

  I laughed, then said with a whine, "I hardly got any."

  He kissed me hard. "Well, I guess we should fix that." He slipped off me and sat on the edge of the bed to pull his boxers back on then went to refill his glass and collect my mostly-full one.

  I drew the sheet up under my arms and sat up, and he set the glasses down on the nightstand and said, "Would your robe be easier?"

  I smiled. "I should use it, right? Since it came with the room."

  He fetched the thick white terry-cloth robe and I wrapped it around myself then returned to the bed. Once I was settled, he handed me my glass and said, "Cheers."

  I said it too and we clinked our glasses together. He took a long sip then shook his head. "Mel, you're the perfect woman, you know that?"

  A faint echo of Austin calling me that was easily ignored. That was just lust. This was love, grown-up and mature. This was the real thing. "You're not so bad yourself, sir." I grinned at him then sipped my champagne, letting the bubbles dance on my tongue.

  He kissed my terry-clad shoulder. "So tomorrow's Friday. And we get married next Friday. One week and one day from now, we'll be right back here doing the same thing."

  "I hope so," I said, then realized what he was saying. "We won't be doing any of this again before then?"

  He pulled his mouth to one side and looked away. "There are a lot of tournaments between now and then. I'd really like to be involved."

  He pushed himself to his feet and my heart sank. "You're leaving now?"

  He turned to me, startled. "Of course not." He showed me his empty glass. "Just want a refill."

  "Good." I held out my half-full glass. "Top me up?"

  He did, then returned to sit beside me. "You understand, right? I obviously won't be doing any gambling on our wedding night, so I'd like to be there the other nights. And then after our wedding, we go home and go back to our usual lives. But while I'm here, I want to really lose myself in it. You know?"

  I drank until my glass was half-empty again, then said, "I understand." I did. I didn't like it, but I did. "You can't do it like that at home."

  His arm went around my shoulder. "Exactly. Thanks, Mel. I knew you understood. He was being silly."

  The champagne fluttering through my brain made it take me a second to pick up what he'd said. "Who was being silly?"

  "Derek, that wedding planning guy. He came and found me in the casino and--" He burped. "Excuse me. So rude." He kissed my cheek. "Sorry, Mel."

  "It's okay." Owen's sincere and embarrassed apologies for his body's occasional noises usually amused me, but this time I was too focused. "What did Derek say?"

  He shook his head. "Nothing. He made a suggestion, that's all. But he was wrong, so don't worry about it." He yawned. "You tired me out big time. I think I'll just close my eyes a minute." He turned me toward him and kissed me. "Love you."

  "Love you too," I said, then sat staring into my champagne glass as his breathing deepened into sleep then into snores.

  All I could think of was that Derek had told Owen he needed to spend this evening with me. It hadn't been Owen's idea, it had been Derek's, and because of that all the wonderful sweet feelings I'd had for my fiancé burst into nothingness like the bubbles in my champagne.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  When I woke up the next morning, though, my mood was as bright as the sun streaming into our stateroom. So what if Derek had told Owen he should spend more time with me? Owen had done it. He hadn't just been there, either; he'd been completely focused on me all evening, and it had been wonderful. That mattered much more than who'd had the idea in the first place.

  Still, I couldn't help wishing Owen had both had the idea and carried it out.

  I pushed that aside, since it didn't matter, and rolled over to snuggle with him, but as I did I heard the shower running, so I wrapped my arms around myself instead and wondered what I should do with the day until Stephanie's wedding. We were at sea, heading back to Fort Lauderdale where tomorrow we would drop people off and pick up some new cruisers, so obviously I couldn't do an excursion. Wendy and I had agreed to meet at two-thirty to go to the chapel together but until then I was free as a seagull.

  The shower stopped, and a minute or two later Owen emerged rubbing his hair with a towel. "Good morning." He smiled at me. "Sleep well?"

  I ran my eyes over my naked fiancé, deliberately letting them linger on his not-currently-so-private parts. "Definitely. You?"

  "Like a satisfied baby. And quit staring at that."

  I laughed. "If you insist." I looked up at his face. "So what's on for today? Back to the casino?"

  He narrowed his eyes, probably wondering whether I was angry, but I wasn't and he seemed to recognize it because he said, "Yeah. One of my best opponents leaves the ship tomorrow so I want to take advantage of him while I still can."

  "Good luck. I'll see you at dinner?"

  He nodded. Pulling on his boxer shorts then working to smooth their legs into his jeans, he said, "What are your plans?"

  "Stephanie's wedding is this afternoon, but otherwise I'll probably end up reading at the quiet pool. It's so peaceful."

  With his head inside his t-shirt, he said, "Enjoy it." His head popped out and he said, "It's funny, you love the quiet pool and I love the casino." He leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head. "They do say opposites attract, after all."

  I smiled and agreed, but when he'd left to grab a quick breakfast before the tournament began I remembered 'they' also said 'birds of a feather flock together'.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  The quiet pool was less busy than it had been earlier in the cruise, no doubt due to the presence of the towel monster. She shushed several people even in the few seconds I stood looking around before I spotted Nicholas giving me a smile and a wave, and as I settled down beside him in the corner where we'd watched the movie I sent up a fervent wish that the aggravating woman would be leaving the ship tomorrow.

  Nicholas pulled a small notebook from his bag, scribbled something, and held it out to me.

  How was your evening?

  I felt my cheeks warm at the memory of certain parts of it, and hoped he couldn't see as I gave him a thumbs-up.

  He wrote again.

  Good. Don't be surprised tonight - Mom's not happy. She'll get over it though. It's just too bad Owen didn't tell her about his plans.

  I blinked at him and mouthed, "He didn't?"

  He shook his head and wrote, "Wendy and I had to tell her. She doesn't like being the last to know things."

  I grimaced and took the notebook.

  I assumed Owen had told her. I'm sorry you guys got caught in the middle of it.

  He shrugged, smiled at me, and put the notebook away.
"It's okay," he mouthed at me, and I smiled back and murmured, "Thanks."

  The shusher got to her feet and swept the crowd with a glare then stomped away, unfortunately leaving all her towels as evidence that she'd be back. The moment she was around the corner, it felt as if everyone exhaled at once. The tension in the air released and the sun seemed brighter and warmer.

  Nicholas chuckled softly. "I hope people aren't that glad to see me leave."

  I grinned at him. "Not a chance. But look, I'm really sorry about last night. That must have been so awkward."

  Instead of responding, he looked horrified for a second, then blinked twice and said, "Oh, right, of course. Yeah, Mom was annoyed at first but that's just how she is. I see why Owen didn't tell her, it's easier."

  He was babbling, and I was confused. "What did you think I meant?"

  His eyes drifted from mine and a mottled flush crept up his neck. "Nothing."

  It clearly was something, though, and something to do with last night. I skimmed through the evening in my mind and one instant struck me. "Were you on deck? When we..." My face went hot, and I trailed off so I didn't have to say, "when I was making out with your brother?".

  His blush invaded his face too. "Damn, you saw me. I was hoping you didn't."

  "I thought I saw someone, but I didn't know who it was. Were you... there long?"

  He snapped his eyes back to mine. "No, of course not. I wouldn't stand leering at you."

  I protested that I hadn't meant it like that but he said again, "No. Just a second or two. Then you guys stopped and started to turn around so I took off." He sighed. "Can I tell you the truth?"

  "Of course," I said, not sure I wanted to hear it.

  "It did feel weird to see you, but really I was just glad one of us brothers is in a great relationship."

  Austin was in no relationship at all, unless the one with himself counted, but... "You aren't?"

  The bluntness of my own question made me back-pedal but Nicholas answered it before I could finish taking it back. "No. Not like..." He shook his head. "I won't be proposing any time soon, let's put it that way. I was friends with one of her friends and Nicole and I were both single and we just drifted into a relationship. We're okay sometimes but I'm not what she wants. I disappoint her more often than not."