by Nicola Marsh
Right then, it hit her like a meteor from Mars.
She needed to build her confidence this trip, and wanted to try new things in order to do so, but still she felt stifled by her conservative nature.
So what if she stepped into a new role? Became the type of person she’d like to be if she had more nerve? Besides, it wasn’t as if she was lying. She was a qualified aerobics instructor. She just didn’t do it for a living.
And who knew? Maybe doing this would give her the ability to form a coherent answer without wanting to duck her head in embarrassment every time he smiled her way?
‘Let me take a look at that.’
Trying to hide a triumphant grin and failing, he handed her the contract.
‘I took the liberty of contacting Madigan Shipping, the company that owns the Ocean Queen. I explained the circumstances and they approved a temporary employment contract—particularly when they heard the Rocks were onboard. They’re influential people in shipping circles.’
‘Do you always organise other people’s lives, or will I actually have a say in your grand plan?’
His grin broadened. ‘You’re here, aren’t you? And I’m giving you the option to sign on or not.’
‘Yeah, right.’
Skimming the contract, she nearly fainted when she spied the remuneration—on a par with her monthly salary.
For taking two lousy classes a day? Too easy. And there was that new futon she’d coveted for the spare bedroom in her flat. Not to mention the slight shoe fetish she’d developed thanks to Beth’s cast-offs. This extra cash would come in mighty handy for a pair or two of her own.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think I’m nuts, but why not?’
She picked up the pen he’d discarded earlier and signed the contract. ‘There.’
‘Don’t forget I owe you.’
His eyes glowed, magnetic and enticing, and she suppressed a shiver at what her payment might entail.
‘Don’t worry about it.’ She tugged at her ponytail, twisting the ends around her finger in a nervous habit she’d had since childhood. ‘This is turning into some holiday. The ship’s amazing, the ports are interesting, and that kiss last night—’
She bit her tongue and mentally slapped herself for running off at the mouth and thinking out loud. That kiss was history, remember? Forgotten. Never happened.
His gaze focused on her mouth, and her lips tingled as his blistering stare remained riveted. Surreptitiously she scratched behind her ear, where her skin prickled the most.
What had happened to the woman who’d just instructed an aerobics class for the first time and nailed it? What had happened to her newfound bravado? It looked as if it had deserted her, along with her common sense. Imagine thinking she could sign on as an employee and keep her distance from Zac.
She fidgeted, shifting her weight from one foot to the other, then rubbed the nape of her neck, wound her hair around her finger.
His gaze finally lifted from her mouth, only to lock onto her eyes, and all that endless blue was enticing and intense. She looked away first and gestured to the desk.
‘Don’t you have work to do?’
‘It can wait.’
She couldn’t stand all this tension, the air practically crackling between them, and she backed towards the door. ‘Well, I need a shower, so I’d better go.’
He stalked towards her, like a powerful alpha wolf shadowing a helpless, quivering rabbit.
‘But what about working out what I owe you?’
She waved her hand, fluttering. It was ineffectual at keeping him at bay. ‘The payment’s all there in the contract. Clearly spelled out in black and white.’
Stopping less than a foot in front of her, he leaned forward and she gasped.
‘Nothing’s ever that clear. There are many shades of grey here I think we need to figure out.’
Her breath caught as his head lowered, her heart pounding as if she’d just taken ten aerobics classes back to back.
‘Like?’
It came out a squeak, and she darted a glance to the door handle a few inches from her hand. She should grab it, twist it, make a run for it. But she couldn’t, was trapped beneath that disconcerting stare, overpowered by his sheer masculinity as he towered over her.
For one insane second she almost wished he’d kiss her again and get it over with, but instead he straightened, ran a hand through his hair and gestured towards his desk.
‘Like a stack of paperwork, tax forms and so on that you need to fill out. How about you go take that shower and meet me back here in half an hour?’
She almost collapsed against the door in relief—or was that disappointment?
Buoyed by the fact she’d just had a lucky escape, she saluted. ‘Aye-aye, sir.’
With her hand on the door handle, she couldn’t resist a parting shot, considering he’d had the upper hand ever since she’d set foot in here.
‘You know something? I’m looking forward to being your colleague. You might actually let up on me if we’re co-workers.’
She closed the door as Zac sank into his chair and stared at the contract she’d signed, the fine print blurring.
Colleague.
Co-worker.
Lana Walker, the woman who was slowly but surely driving him crazy, was now his colleague, his co-worker, neatly circumventing his golden rule of never getting involved with a passenger.
Hell.
He leaned back and closed his eyes. It didn’t help, as an instant image of pert breasts, narrow waist, toned abs and slim legs covered in Lycra haunted him. She wasn’t tall, yet her perfect proportions gave the illusion of height—and he ached to touch her, every tempting inch.
Dammit, why couldn’t she have stayed hidden behind those loose dresses and revolting pants she wore? First the wet one-piece and now this: tight candy-striped Lycra bike shorts, and a T-shirt fitted enough to highlight the curves he’d love to run his hands over.
He’d snuck back to the gym, watched the last few minutes of her class. And he had been blown away.
In a whirl of high kicks, arm twirls and jiggling breasts, she’d morphed from shy innocent to action goddess, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t wipe her from his mind.
This teasing was getting out of hand. It had been fun at the start, amusing to get a smile out of that prim mouth, a rare fiery flash from those sombre hazel eyes. But somewhere along the way the lines had blurred, and what had started out as a bit of harmless fun to get a subdued woman to lighten up had morphed into his wanting her.
Seriously wanting her. His thoughts consumed by her day and night.
That kiss on the beach last night had changed everything.
He’d given in to temptation unprepared for the ferocity of her response—a response that had kept him up all night wishing he hadn’t let her flee.
First her astounding response. Now her metamorphosis from shy and nervous to bouncy and brilliant.
If he hadn’t been intrigued enough before, he sure as hell was now, and despite the importance of keeping his mind on the job this cruise, he had to know more.
What was it about her that had him coiled tighter than an anchor chain?
He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but it did little to erase the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes.
She was forthright and tetchy—not his type at all. Yet she was so delightfully unaffected, with an underlying hint of vulnerability that tugged at his heartstrings no matter how hard he tried to ignore the fact he still had a heart.
But he couldn’t get involved. At least not emotionally. Not now.
Besides, how would she feel if she knew he’d conned her? He hadn’t placed any call to head office. He didn’t have to. One of the perks of being the boss.
Speaking of which, he needed to get back to work. He was close, so close, to discovering the saboteur who was plaguing the company.
While Shelley’s fall might well have been an accident, there h
ad been a couple of other incidents that weren’t as easily dismissed. His uncle’s suspicions that the Ocean Queen would be the next target had been well-founded. And the sooner he found the person who hadn’t disclosed a reckless disregard for everyone’s safety and comfort when boarding, the easier things would be for his uncle.
He owed Jimmy and, as he’d told Lana, he always paid his debts.
What would she think of the purely carnal payback system he’d like to instigate with her?
Lana stood under the shower, cool water sluicing down her body. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the spray peppering her face, though it did little to wash away the memory of that damn kiss.
She was determined to forget it, to relegate it to the back of her mind alongside other horrific moments, like the time she had walked in on one of her students with the museum taxidermist in a decidedly unstuffy moment in the archive room, or the time she’d bawled when she’d got her first promotion.
Truly shuddery, forgettable moments—just like her response to that kiss last night.
So why couldn’t she wipe the memory, however hard she tried?
As she tipped her head forward and tied a towel turban-style around her dripping hair, she had a vision of Zac’s hungry stare as she’d left his office. Not that she’d wanted to provoke him—far from it. But he delighted in rattling her, in teasing her, and she’d wanted to get one back.
It hadn’t worked. The desire in his gaze had been real, potent, and oh-so-scary for a novice like her. Old Lana would have jumped ship and swum back to shore before he could wink. But she wasn’t the old Lana any more.
The old Lana wanted a husband, a family, a house in the suburbs to come home to every night after another satisfying day at the museum.
The new Lana still wanted all those things, but for the first time in her life she was experiencing the flicker of excitement that came with self-assurance—the heady rush of having a guy like Zac pay attention to a geek like her.
She’d never had that. Jax had faked a few compliments, fuelled her need to be noticed by a guy—any guy—and had reeled her in as part of his plan. He had used her before saying she was frigid when she couldn’t deliver what he’d wanted. His disdain haunted her to this day.
She knew his accusation was why she didn’t date very often, why she froze when a guy got physically close.
So why had she combusted in Zac’s arms during that kiss?
Subconsciously she knew.
She wanted to feel alive, wanted to tap into the passion simmering deep inside, wanted to be bold and brazen and beautiful rather than a mousy, boring workaholic.
Zac had a way of looking at her as if she was the only woman in the world, and when he did the small, wistful part of her that wanted to be that confident woman dared to hope.
She made it back to his office with a minute to spare. ‘Come on in. I’ve got the forms for you.’
‘Great.’
As she stepped into the office he briefly touched her elbow, bending lower on the pretext of closing the door. ‘What? No perfume?’
Her gaze snapped to his, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of a cheeky grin before he turned away. Her scowl was wasted.
‘Why don’t I take them away with me, fill them out, and drop them at the front desk when I’m done?’
She might be feeling braver after breezing through the class, but there was something about him now—the way he looked at her, as if seeing her in a new light. While she should be happy, her inner introvert trembled at what he might do if he sensed the change in her.
He tapped the stack on his desk, beckoned her over. ‘Believe me, when you take a look at these you’ll be thanking me for filling them out here. I’ve helped employees through the rigmarole before; we’ll get it done in half the time.’
Okay, so he was being helpful. Then why did it feel like the Big Bad Wolf lending Red Riding Hood a hand before gobbling her up?
‘Right—let’s get to work, then.’
She plopped on the chair opposite his, drew the forms towards her.
He stilled her hand by placing his on top, setting her pulse racing as she stifled the urge to yank her hand away.
‘Not much intimidates you, does it?’
She raised an eyebrow. If he had any idea how her heart thumped, her lungs seized and her insides quaked at his simple touch, he’d withdraw that statement.
‘I can usually handle stuff.’
Professionally, that was. Anything else and she was about as poised as a toddler on ice-skates.
‘Think you can handle me?’
His voice had dropped seductively low, and the smouldering flame in his eyes warmed her, warning her that she was in way over her head with this one if she thought for one second a small boost in confidence could cope with the likes of him at his tempting best.
‘I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard.’
She almost bit her tongue in frustration, unwittingly adding to the wordplay. Heat suffused her cheeks, and she wished she had the guts to toss her hair over her shoulder, not duck her head like the blushing virgin she almost was.
His grin had tension strumming her taut muscles. ‘You’re very assured when you want to be.’
Only when he needled her enough that she forgot her shyness.
‘Mainly when putting guys like you back in your place.’
He leaned forward, close enough to whisper in her ear. ‘Guys like me?’
Resisting the urge to jerk back from his proximity, she settled for a subtle slide of her hand out from under his instead.
‘Over-confident. Smooth. Charming. Used to getting your own way.’
Rather than being offended, he laughed. ‘Guilty as charged.’
He leaned into her personal space again, crowding her, overwhelming her, confusing her.
‘So, is it working?’
‘What?’
‘My charm.’
‘Not a bit.’
She crossed her fingers behind her back at the little white lie. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else, let’s get these forms done so I can enjoy my holiday.’
‘Actually, there was something else. You know I owe you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
The instant wariness in Lana’s eyes made Zac chuckle.
‘How about a tour when we dock in Suva? I’ve got the day off, so I could show you the sights. What do you think?’
Her eyes lost their cautious edge as her lips curved into a smile—the type of genuinely happy smile that could easily tempt a man to want more, a lot more.
‘Sounds good. Know any hot spots?’
Yeah. Just below her ear, above her collarbone, and dead on her soft lips…
‘Several.’
His tone must have alerted her to his thoughts, for her eyes widened, glowed with understanding, till he could distinguish the tiniest green flecks in the molten caramel before the shutters quickly descended.
‘A tour sounds great.’
She dropped her gaze in record time, her tongue darting out to moisten her top lip. The nervous action did little to dissipate his growing interest in discovering what really made this tantalising woman tick.
Considering how much he wanted to get to know her, perhaps he should rethink Suva—especially his idea about taking her to his favourite secluded beach. If he could barely keep his hands off her here, what hope did he have in blissful isolation on the most spectacular stretch of pristine sand he’d ever seen?
‘Right, it’s a plan.’
He’d almost said a date, but dates implied more of that physical stuff he was afraid would scare her off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wipe a vivid fantasy of the two of them splashing in the lagoon, him play-wrestling her, her wrapping her legs around him, her wet skin plastered to his, no clothes…
She stood abruptly, the chair almost toppling. ‘Look, I really appreciate the offer to help, but I’ll be fine with these forms. I’ll holler if I need anything.’
&nb
sp; Judging by her shaky voice she knew exactly what he was thinking, and she reacted the way she usually did: by erecting verbal barriers and making a run for it.
She scooped up the papers and made a dash for the door in an awful fluorescent flurry of floral ankle-length skirt the colour of a lifejacket. Her hurried departure left him shaking his head as she slammed the door.
After she’d left, he sank into his chair and wiped a hand over his face. No—didn’t help. He could still see her wide-eyed guarded expression, the hint of suspicion in those hazel depths, the wary curve of her lips.
She didn’t trust him—didn’t accept his interest as real. Not that he blamed her. He’d given her no indication to the contrary, playing the flirt, keeping things light-hearted, seeing how far he could push her before she reacted.
Someone or something had destroyed her belief in her attractiveness, and he’d hazard a guess that some jerk had done a number on her. It would explain her naivety, her lack of artifice when it came to playing coy or flirting back. Which meant he should give her a wide berth. Instead, he wanted her with a staggering fierceness, and the depth of his need was obliterating every common sense reason why he shouldn’t do this.
He didn’t need the distraction. He had a job to do. But if his head kept spinning like a compass needle his concentration would be shot anyway so maybe he should spend a bit of time getting to know her—the real her, not the cagey woman who hid her mistrust behind lowered eyes and fiddling hands.
Muttering a few curses which wouldn’t make many of his colleagues blush, he picked up the phone and placed his daily call to Jimmy.
The phone rang three times precisely—the same number every day—which proved his uncle waited by the phone, despite his protests to the contrary that he totally trusted him that the company was in safe hands.
‘Hey, Uncle Jimmy, it’s me.’
‘Zachary, my boy. How’s things?’
Where should he start? With the part where he still felt like a fraud, running the company from behind the scenes until their culprit was caught, or the part where he was crazy for a woman who bolted every time he got close?
