Seduced in San Diego

by Reese Ryan

  Narrow, deep-set eyes. A wide, generous smile that usually hinted at the mischief that always seemed to be happening inside that beautiful man’s head. Intense eyes and a heart-stopping smile.

  Today he’d worn his hair in soft twists in the crown, while the sides were cut low. He looked like he’d stepped out of a nautical clothing catalog in a navy shirt with white polka dots, white shorts and navy boat shoes.

  The light, fitted attire highlighted his strong biceps, muscular thighs and incredibly toned bottom. Heat made its way down her spine and pooled low in her belly as she imagined how enticing his body must look beneath his clothing. Radiant brown skin, rippling with muscles underneath. A smattering of fine hair.

  Her neck and chest flushed with arousal, and her nipples beaded painfully.

  Sasha paced the floor, her heart thudding. She’d committed to spending seven days sailing the seas virtually alone with Jordan Jace.

  What an arrogant, boneheaded mistake.

  She’d gone on lots of working trips with other clients—both male and female. And she was determined to prove that Jordan Jace was no different.

  But it was a lie she’d been trying to sell herself on, when all along she knew the truth. This trip was very different because Jordan was unlike any man she’d ever known.

  She’d gone on past client trips begrudgingly, despite the exotic locations. But when Jordan had proposed this trip, her heart leaped in her chest. She relished the opportunity to have Jordan all to herself for an entire week.

  Eyes pressed closed, she released a deep sigh. She’d screwed up royally.

  “Sasha.” Jordan knocked at the door. “Are you ready?”

  She took another deep breath before opening the door and greeting him with a big smile. As if everything was fine. “Yes.”

  His gaze dropped momentarily to the pebbled nubs visible through the gauzy, yellow material of her sundress. Jordan cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Thought you might need an escort to the sundeck where we’re having lunch.” He looked anywhere but her eyes or at her chest. Crimson bloomed beneath the brown skin on his cheeks. “Just until you learn your way around the ship.”

  Sasha thanked Jordan and joined him in the hall. He led her to the sundeck where a lovely alfresco meal of seafood pasta was served.

  He helped her into her chair, then took a seat across from her.

  Their pasta was divine, and she enjoyed Jordan’s company, as always. When they’d finished their meal, the chief stewardess cleared their places, leaving a small platter of fruit and two small plates.

  Sasha scanned the full lips that had been such a distraction all afternoon. Regret bubbled in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t quite remember why she hadn’t let Jordan Jace kiss her.

  * * *

  Jordan shifted under Sasha’s heated gaze. He clenched, then unclenched his fists. Reminded himself to stay the course.

  The cruise was only the beginning. He had big plans for Sasha Charles as they sailed to Mexico and back. But his plans would implode if he rushed her.

  He wanted to kiss her. To pull her onto his lap in that yellow sundress and claim the soft lips that had taunted him for the past hour. Tease the pert nipples that had been peeking through the thin material, tantalizing him. Making his mouth water with his spiraling need for her.

  Patience, mate. Don’t be so direct, so predictable.

  Sasha seemed to anticipate him trying to kiss her again. And from the way she’d been staring longingly at his mouth throughout their meal, he’d no doubt that another attempt to kiss her would receive a much different response.

  He wasn’t sure why Sasha’s rebuff that day haunted him so. He had a king-size ego, to be sure. But he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he was the pot of gold at the end of every woman’s rainbow.

  Something about Sasha Charles had burrowed its way beneath his skin and gotten cozy. He’d found himself focused on her at the most importune times. Like when another woman was openly flirting with him. Yet, all he’d been able to think of was Sasha.

  Her remarkable smile. Her biting sense of humor. The lightness that rose in his chest whenever he was in her company.

  Jordan released a quiet sigh. Part frustration with himself for his preoccupation with Sasha. Part admiration for the woman who engendered such adoration.

  A saner man would cut his losses, put his wounded pride in his pocket and walk away. But his curiosity had the better of him. He needed to understand exactly what it was about Sasha Charles that made him so crazy. And he was willing to bet there was something about him that made Sasha crazy, too.

  So, to avoid another polite rejection, he wouldn’t attempt to kiss her. Not because his ego was too fragile to sustain such an objection. Because he relished the idea of making her want him enough that she would relinquish her self-imposed rules.

  “Ready to review the branding strategy?” It hurt him to suggest something so sensible. Especially when he couldn’t get the image of her nipples straining against her sundress out of his head.

  “You actually want to work on the plan?” She looked bewildered. Perhaps even disappointed. “Right now?”

  “It’s as good a time as any.” Jordan sipped his ginger beer. He’d taken a play from Sasha’s playbook. He was determined to keep his head clear. He would follow the plan, rather than giving in to his impulses where she was concerned.

  She opened her phone and reviewed some of her ideas for making over his website, social media accounts and gallery marketing materials. They made him inexplicably uneasy. Not because they weren’t brilliant ideas. Because they were brilliant ideas for someone else.

  “I don’t fancy the idea of allowing the general public into my life, into my process.” Jordan shifted in his chair. “Take away the heavy curtain, and where’s the magic? It’s gone, because there’s no mystery left to solve.”

  “I appreciate your thinking on this. I really do. But ravenous fans—the kind you want—they want access. They want to know what you do and how your mind works. They want to know where you eat, what kind of clothes you wear and where your inspiration comes from.”

  “I don’t think I’d want to know all of that about anyone. It’d bore me to tears. Don’t these people have lives of their own?”

  “Most do. For them, living vicariously through someone else is an escape. A fun way to spend a few minutes here or there. For others, it’s a way to feel a sense of kinship with an artist they admire. It deepens their connection, making them a loyal fan who’ll buy from you again and again.”

  “I’m sure you’re right, but I prefer the days when one needn’t post photos of one’s breakfast in order to sell a sculpture.” He leaned back in his seat. “What does it matter what I eat for breakfast or with whom I take it? And why should it matter what designer I’m wearing or where I vacation?”

  “Consumers want openness and authenticity. They want to know who the real Jordan Jace is...beyond the bad boy image you project to everyone. What motivates you? Is it the money and the fame? Or is it the opportunity to give your parents the middle finger by achieving success without them while doing something they don’t respect?”

  “Are you asking because it’s pertinent to my brand, or are you asking for yourself?” He shifted in his seat, unnerved by her spot-on analysis.

  “Both, I guess.” She shrugged. “After all, one feeds the other.”

  “All of the above.” Jordan’s throat tightened and his lungs constricted. Why was he so bothered by Sasha Charles thinking ill of him? “But you’ve neglected the most important motivator. My passion for the art itself. Whatever else you might think of me, Sasha, you must realize how very committed I am to what I do. That every single sculpture I create, commissioned or not, bears a small piece of me.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Sasha’s eyes
lit up as her fingers moved quickly across her mobile screen. “That’s the kind of passion and transparency we need to bring to your brand.”

  “Look, Sasha, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I honestly do. I can see why my mother was so taken with you. You’re quite brilliant.” Jordan walked over to the railing and leaned against it, his arms folded. “But I’ve no intention of fundamentally changing who I am. For anyone or any reason.”

  “You think my job is to change you? It isn’t. And that’s not what I’m asking at all.” Sasha grabbed a slice of mango and joined him at the railing. She bit into the sweet, fragrant fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “The problem isn’t who you are and what you represent. It’s that people don’t really know who you are or what you represent.” Sasha’s voice softened and she gave him a look of pity. “That includes your parents.”

  Jordan’s jaw tensed and he sighed. “I don’t much care what my parents think, and I’ve given up trying to appease them. They won’t be satisfied with anything short of me dying a thousand deaths of boredom while lost in spreadsheets all day like my brothers. It’s fine for them, but it isn’t me. And it never will be. Not ever. So, if the point of all this is to slowly transform me into a boring old f—”

  Sasha reached out and pressed her hand to his mouth, her fingers sweet and sticky with the mango juice. Her sudden action seemed to take them both by surprise.

  She withdrew her hand, her chest quickly rising and falling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, obviously, I wasn’t really thinking at all. I just needed you to stop talking for one minute and actually listen to what it is I’m trying to say to you.”

  “And exactly what is it you are trying to say?”

  “That I don’t want you to change. Because I think you’re remarkable. You’re smart and you’re handsome and God are you talented.” The admiration and affection in her eyes made his chest swell. “You’re an amazing artist, Jordan, and an even better man. So no, I’m not asking you to change. I’m saying we need to better communicate who you are and what you’re about.”

  It was the loveliest, most sincere thing anyone had ever said to him. Stated by the most pleasing, yet perplexing woman he’d ever met.

  “Kind of you to say.” He finally broke their silence. “And I don’t mean to be difficult.”

  “No, of course not. Ultimately, it’s your image and reputation and you want to protect it. I can certainly respect that.”

  “Good.” Jordan nodded once. “In which case, I promise to trust you and follow your lead on this.”

  He licked his lower lip, tasting the mango juice she’d left there. His focus shifted to her mouth, and his desire to taste her lips. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.

  Space, he needed space.

  “Seems we’re done here. If you need anything, anything at all, ring the chief stewardess. She’ll get you whatever it is you need.”

  “You’re leaving?” She frowned.

  “It’s a working holiday, after all. I’ll be sketching most of the evening and late into the night.”

  “So I’m on my own for dinner?” Her voice was tinged with disappointment.

  “Wouldn’t be so rude as to make you eat alone your first night onboard.” He smiled. “But I’m taking dinner in my suite while I work. You’re welcome to join me there, if you’d like. I’ll try to take a break round eight.”

  Sasha narrowed her gaze, her lips pursed. She nodded. “See you at eight.”

  “Perfect.” He leaned in a little closer. “I have one rule about dinner tonight. We don’t talk business.”

  “Isn’t that the point of me being here?”

  “During the day, I’m your client and you’re my branding strategist. During the evening, we’re two people on their own time, getting to know one another. Deal?”

  Sasha chewed her lower lip, her nose scrunched. Then she nodded. “Deal. And I really am sorry about putting my hand over your mouth earlier. That isn’t like me. I’m not sure what came over me, but it won’t happen again.”

  “In the event that it does, I prefer pineapple.” He winked, then walked away.

  * * *

  Sasha smoothed her skirt down, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

  Eyes above his neck, hands to yourself and everything will be fine.

  She lifted her hand, pausing a moment before knocking on the door. No answer. She waited a bit, then knocked again. Harder this time. Still no answer.

  Jordan had made it clear they wouldn’t be discussing business. So, if he’d bailed on their dinner date, she could eat in her own stateroom, answer a few emails and maybe do some client work. Or she could binge watch one of the many television series she needed to catch up on.

  Neither was a bad option when set on a ship as gorgeous as this one.

  So why was she crushed by the possibility that Jordan had decided he had something better to do tonight?

  The door swung open suddenly, taking her by surprise.

  “Sorry, love. I hopped in the shower and time got away from me.” Jordan tugged a black T-shirt down over his strong, taut abs. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”

  Eyes above the neck. Eyes above the neck.

  “Not at all.” Sasha quickly raised her eyes to his. “But if this is a bad time...”

  “Your timing is perfect.” Jordan looked beyond her at the staff rolling a cart toward them. He held the door open wider, stepping aside to let them enter.

  “Jordan, this suite is amazing.” Sasha’s gaze swept around the bright, open, two-story master suite.

  A spiral staircase anchored the center of the room. A shiny, black baby grand piano dominated one corner. And the stateroom had its own private sundeck.

  “I can see why you enjoy working here.” She gestured toward the easel set up near the observation deck. “I’d be inspired working here, too.”

  “I don’t normally use this particular vessel for my working holidays, but I like to take them a couple of times each year. Gives me time alone, a chance to think and a fresh perspective.”

  “Then I’m intruding on your creative holiday, aren’t I?”

  “I invited you here.” He braced her shoulders. His voice was low and sincere. His dark eyes shone. “I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t want your company.”

  A sense of relief crept down Sasha’s spine, even as her body tensed from being so close to Jordan. His warmth and captivating scent drew her closer like an insect in summer drawn to the front porch light.

  “Thank you for having me.” Her words were barely louder than a whisper.

  “Will that be all for now, Mr. Jace?” The chief stewardess seemed reluctant to interrupt them.

  Jordan excused himself to speak with the woman privately, and Sasha went to the sundeck. The view was lovely, and the water was calming. A cool, salty breeze rustled her skirt. The sheer, white curtains billowed around her.

  She smoothed down her skirt and turned around to meet Jordan’s gaze. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded as he watched her. Her cheeks warmed and her stomach flipped as she held his heated gaze, neither of them speaking.

  “Dinner’s ready.” He pulled out a chair at the small table near the sundeck. “I decided to forego full service tonight. I thought it would give us a chance to talk. Hope you don’t mind.”

  “No, of course not.” She took her seat as he uncovered their meals. Fresh lobster, crab and scallops, and a creamy, mushroom risotto. “Everything looks incredible, Jordan. Thank you for accommodating me for dinner tonight. It looks like you were busy. I’m sorry if our meal is interrupting your creative burst.”

  Jordan sat across from her, spread his napkin and put it in his lap. “Don’t be. You’re the reason I’ve been feeling so inspired lately.”

  “Me?” Butterflies flitted in her be
lly. “Why?”

  “That’s one of the reasons I invited you along on this trip.” He poured them both a glass of wine. “I hope to unravel the mystery. One way or another.”

  Sasha’s cheeks flamed, and she gulped down some of the water she was drinking, to extinguish the heat rising in her core.

  “Tell me more about this series of sculptures you’re working on.” Better to avoid delving into the meaning of his statement.

  Jordan gave her a knowing smile and sipped a little of his wine. “Remember my one rule for dinner? We don’t discuss business.”

  “Right.” She took a bite of her gourmet meal and murmured with delight.

  Jordan’s eyes darkened in response and he drank a little more of his wine before setting the glass down. He picked up his utensils and took the first bite.

  “You told me about your family and that you grew up here in San Diego. How’d you become best friends with Vaughn’s wife, Miranda? She’s from Chicago, isn’t she?”

  “We went to college together and hit it off as freshmen. Been friends ever since, though we hadn’t seen each other in a while before Miranda moved here.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Shortly before she met Vaughn.”

  Sasha needn’t go into details about how Miranda had come to San Diego in search of a husband. Or how her marriage of convenience to Vaughn turned into a real, genuine love.

  The kind she wanted for herself someday.

  Sasha had done her stint with casual dating. She was over it. Watching Vaughn and Miranda together was a revelation. She wanted a love like theirs. Or at least a serious relationship that could potentially lead to love and marriage.

  She was done wasting her time with men who still acted like college frat boys. Determined to sleep their way across campus.

  Men like Jordan Jace, if the rumors on blogs and online magazines were any indication.

  Then again, upon deeper inspection, she’d found her initial perception of Jordan to be all wrong.

  Maybe she was wrong about this, too.

  “Speaking of friends...you seem to have quite a lot. Women friends, that is.” She speared a succulent scallop. “It’s amazing you find time to sculpt.”