All Night Long

by Melissa MacNeal

  But the waitress grabbed her hand before it connected. With one quick twist, she pinned Lola’s arm behind her—and then sent her to the floor with a strategic sweep of her high-heeled foot.

  “Call Security,” the blonde barked toward the bar.

  “You don’t have a stiletto to stand on, honey,” Lola wheezed, “because it was Security who showed me that tape of you and Dennis—”

  Blondie planted a foot on Lola’s chest and put some weight on it. Right under her rib cage, where that damn six-inch heel might puncture her lung if she stepped any harder.

  “Get off me!” Lola cried. “You know I’m right! You know who I’m talking about! Don’t you?”

  “I don’t know who you think I am, honey, but letting women hit on me isn’t in my job description,” this she-cat in the hat declared. “We’ll let somebody else handle this, since you apparently left your manners at home.”

  By now Lola realized that the other passengers were watching their squabble with great interest. Like maybe bets would start changing hands any minute now.

  “You better let me up,” Lola said, grabbing Blondie’s ankle. From this angle, those two full-bodied peaks bobbed above those black boy shorts, which seemed a loooong way up the bent, shapely leg that held her to the floor.

  Lola gripped harder, determined to get that pointy heel out of her chest. Thinking it was a shame that such a high-toned floozy had better taste in shoes than she did in men.

  “Dammit, I told you to—”

  “And what seems to be our problem, Fedora?” a familiar voice came from the doorway. “This is the last place I expected a…confrontation between two lovely women.”

  Ever so subtly, Blondie ground her heel deeper into Lola’s chest. “It’s not every day I’m accused of luring a passenger’s man away—or smacked in the face, either.”

  Rio DeSilva was standing beside the woman he’d called Fedora, his hands clasped behind him as he stared sternly down at her. From here, his face seemed a loooong way from Lola’s, and his white uniform made him look very, very official. And very pissed off, to find her in this position.

  Or was that a flicker of something else in Rio’s eyes?

  Had that blonde bitch winked at him?

  With so many eyes glued to her as the bimbo in the hat told the security agent her version of the story—punctuating the important parts with little stabs of her stiletto—Lola felt the teensiest bit mortified.

  What if she was wrong?

  After all, the three chicks working here looked enough alike to be classier versions of the Candi, Randi and Dandi who sang at the staff ball. Was it possible she’d made a mistake, calling this Fedora person—

  Oh, Lord, was she the owner of this club?

  —the loose, no-good floozy who’d stolen Dennis away?

  “I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you so much, Mr. DeSilva.”

  And with those so polite, businesslike phrases, the entertainment was over. Fedora removed her foot, and Rio leaned down with his hand extended.

  “I can get up myself, thank you,” Lola informed him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Aric brought me here because he knew—”

  And what if he had? What if Cabana Boy had known all along that—

  Since the beginning, she’d suspected all the men making her work off Fletch’s debt were keeping secrets. This certainly seemed to prove it.

  It was all Lola could do to keep her mouth shut until they were outside the lounge.

  “All right, dammit, where is Dennis really?” she demanded in a whisper. “And who brought my purse back the other day?”

  DeSilva’s brow puckered. “You saw his note, Lola mia. He said—in his own handwriting, was it not?—he was going ashore in Aruba. Not coming back.”

  “But I saw her with my own eyes!” Lola retorted, pointing toward the lounge’s doorway. “That—that Fedora bitch was the one who lured Fletch away with her big—and left me to pay his frickin’ bills! He left me for those two bouncing—”

  She sighed, exasperated. She was getting damn tired of riding this staff elevator: no room to move away from men who tried to confine her, and seduce her, and intimidate her in here! No frickin’ air to breathe, the way they all stood right up against her like they wanted to yank down her pants and—

  “I’m sorry you’re upset, mi vida.”

  Rio’s endearments irritated her even more. His golden gaze bored into hers, and she made herself break the eye contact, to keep some semblance of self-control. He was way too powerful—way too potent—when he stood this close to her.

  “If you’d like to see the security tape again, we can go to—”

  “I want answers, dammit! And I want them from you!”

  Lola wrapped her arms around herself, wishing she hadn’t worn such a snug cami with only pink lace covering the tops of her cleavage. “You, with all that pretty talk about your woman being the queen of your castle, and taking care of motherless little Chloe, and—you’ve been bullshitting me all along, and you know it!”

  That’s what hurt the worst: finding out just how far Rio had gone to cover for his colleagues, while letting her suffer the consequences of Fletch’s desertion. As though her compromised credit wasn’t punishment enough! As though her feelings counted for nothing!

  And because every hallway in this fricking ship looked the same, she didn’t know where DeSilva was taking her—

  Until he opened the door on all those photos. That sad-eyed little girl who smiled so much like her daddy was more than Lola could handle.

  “I thought you liked me,” she whimpered, turning her back on the face that beckoned her from so many picture frames.

  “Oh, it’s gone way beyond like, Lola mia,” he murmured as he glanced both directions down the corridor. “Do you think I make wild passionate love to every woman I meet? As though you were just my flavor of the day?”

  She glared at him. How dare Rio express her own earlier thoughts during this high-stakes situation!

  “Maybe I don’t know you as well as I thought I did when I let you—”

  “Before you say another word, please come inside,” he insisted in a low voice. “It’s one of the few places on the ship where security cameras can’t incriminate us.”

  She flashed back to that awful hour she’d watched Fletch in the casino, with that soul mate he’d found. Lola still swore it was that Fedora bimbo from the cocktail lounge. But even without her in the picture, those security monitors had shown Lola just how public all the areas aboard the Aphrodite really were.

  “I suppose now you’ll tell me I’ve got cameras hidden in my suite, too,” she asserted hotly. “Spy cams behind the vanity mirror, and—and probably in the damn shower head! Is that how you get your grins, Rio? Watching women use the bathroom?”

  He closed the door, sighing. “Your anger is speaking so loudly—”

  “Damn right I’m mad! And when that bitch put her foot between my boobs—”

  “—that you can’t hear yourself think,” he continued in a low, flowing voice. “You have no idea how badly your accusations are hurting me, querida. As though you don’t trust me anymore, after all the beautiful moments we’ve shared.”

  Lola raised an eyebrow. “Smearing me with butter brickle and hot fudge ranks as a beautiful moment?”

  “Absolutely.”

  He almost said that with a straight face. It was the flicker in his sexy mustache that told Lola he still wasn’t coming clean.

  “It was your complete trust in me—the way you remained on my table, open to whatever I teased you with, that made the occasion so special.”

  Rio focused those soft brown eyes on her, looking like a puppy who’d been put out on the road by his owner.

  “I’ve never met a woman who made me think of such a thing—much less allow me to try it,” he continued quietly. “And you laughed along with me. And then shared your deepest personal concerns after listening so lovingly to mine. This is so
mething I’ve never had with a woman, Lola. It made me feel special. Loved.”

  Lola swallowed hard. He sounded sincere. Seriously involved with her.

  But did she dare believe him? No sense in adding insult to injury—building herself up with that hopeful expression on Rio DeSilva’s gorgeous face—to walk ashore tomorrow feeling like the world’s biggest idiot.

  He stepped closer, his hands on her shoulders and a kiss on his lips that begged for her to return it. Lola wanted to believe again—wanted her faith in men and herself restored. Those golden-brown eyes invited her to a place where that could happen.

  Rio lowered his long lashes, parting his lips to exhale lightly. He smelled of those sexy little cigars, and a flush colored his golden cheeks.

  Didn’t he look like a man ready to risk everything—to ask the questions that played with his expressive eyebrows? Wasn’t that visible pulse in his neck a sign of how vulnerable he felt?

  Lola closed her eyes. Let out the breath she’d been holding, along with the inhibitions and doubts that would keep her from feeling the truth in his kiss. She opened her mouth, to better taste him—to respond more fully to whatever invitations DeSilva sent without saying a word.

  If she kept quiet, she would hear his heart speak.

  Rio’s mouth lighted on hers, lifted, and then settled in for a fine frenzy of a kiss. With a soft moan, he pulled her against his body and placed a hand behind her head.

  And Lola surrendered. She would go anywhere with this man—as long as he promised to love her this way, no matter what. Over the years, she’d learned that a man’s kiss foretold everything she needed to know about him as a lover and a partner. That other guy…what’s-his-face, who’d left her…couldn’t kiss her this way if his life depended on it. Never took the time to taste her inner lips, and tease her tongue with his, and—

  The door opened so suddenly it slammed back against the wall.

  “Well, this certainly tells the tale, does it not?”

  Skorpio Skandalis let out an edgy laugh when she and Rio jumped away from their kiss yet remained in each other’s arms. The captain’s obsidian eyes flashed wickedly as he looked from her to his security agent.

  “I’m sure you realize, Miss Wright, that this is the final day of your cruise. Your last chance to repay my generosity—for allowing you to remain aboard my ship, and to work off the bills you’ve run up in the spa and the boutiques.”

  The captain crossed his arms, looking very impressive in his crisp white uniform. And extremely pissed.

  “But what have we here?” he asked sarcastically. “My love slave—in the arms of another man! In direct defiance of our agreement! Not only have you disobeyed me by becoming involved with Mr. DeSilva, but now you’ve attacked my sister, as well!”

  Lola’s jaw dropped. That blonde in the fedora and the boy shorts—wearing those ice-pick stilettos—was Skorpio’s sister?

  Well, that made things pretty plain, didn’t it?

  “This was all a set-up!” she cried, pointing at him. “Don’t you dare presume to charge me for spa time you ordered, and—”

  “That’s enough out of you, young lady!” Captain Scandalous said, pointing an ominous finger back at her. “I have been very patient all week! Hearing reports, yet giving you the benefit of the doubt when you—”

  “You could at least listen to Lola’s side of this,” DeSilva undercut him. “From the first, you had all the advantages of knowing—”

  “And you!” the Greek proclaimed, filling the room with his anger. “You have ignored me at every turn, DeSilva! How am I to maintain security aboard my ship when you are holed up with one of the passengers? Which is expressly forbidden by the Code of Employee Conduct, as you know!”

  “And I take full responsibility for that part of—”

  “And you’ll take a full hit in your final pay next week, as well!” Skandalis cried. “All these years of trust and friendship—a career of great integrity—tossed overboard! Because of this—this woman! The one you stole from my service—”

  Rio stiffened to his full height, which put him a head taller than his superior. “Lola owes you nothing, and you know it! Just as you know how much she lost before you ever caught her up in your web of—”

  “Enough! Out!”

  Captain Scandalous was looking at Lola now, pointing toward the door. And while he resembled a fiery, commanding Greek god handing down the law from Mount Olympus, Lola knew this was no ancient myth. No play on her emotions. This guy was serious!

  “And just where—”

  “Straight to jail! Where I can keep track of you until we dock tomorrow!”

  The jail? How was she supposed to—surely he didn’t expect her to—

  “Begging your pardon, captain,” Lola jeered, “but this cruise was paid in full before I ever set eyes on you! You have absolutely no right to—”

  “I’m the captain, Miss Wright. I rule.”

  His midnight eyes didn’t flicker. No sign of teasing or winking or “your wish is my command” from this arrogant bastard standing in the doorway, staring her down. In fact, he reached for his walkie-talkie.

  “George! I need an escort for a disorderly passenger,” he barked. “It seems DeSilva isn’t doing his job, so I’m putting you in charge of security until we’re in port tomorrow.”

  Just like that, Skandalis relegated her to jail, and into the custody of another man. Rio looked no happier about it than she did, but a glance at all those photos reminded her DeSilva had more at stake than she’d previously considered: if he was going home to play daddy, his final paycheck might be pretty important. He talked about the family estate like a man who came from old money, but her career dealing with influential men—and those who just wanted to look that way—had taught her that appearances could be deceiving.

  Before they could appeal to Skandalis again, a burly black fellow with a shaved head, a gold front tooth, and a diamond stud in his lip came to the door. He took one look at Lola and sneered.

  “So this is the little lady goin’ to the lock up? Not a problem, sir.”

  Lola took one look at Mr. Muscle and all inclination to lip back at him disappeared. His blue uniform shirt bulged at the buttons—but not because he had any loose flab on him. This guy could crush her with one hand. Looked like one of the superhuman villains from a James Bond movie—only George was very real!

  She glanced at Rio for reassurance, but he dropped her hand. Apparently refusing to challenge the captain any further.

  So, hey! Sit in the jail cell tonight, clear out tomorrow, and never look back! How hard can that be?

  Lola didn’t want to think about how hard it was to walk out of this room, without the slightest sign from Rio DeSilva that he intended to finish their previous conversation. Or that he intended to make good on all the promises he’d dangled in front of her.

  Captain Scandalous just kept staring at her. Willing her to leave.

  Why had she found him so drop-dead gorgeous while she watched that orientation loop on her stateroom TV? Skandalis was the most self-absorbed, pigheaded despot she’d ever met. Way more in love with himself than any woman could ever be!

  George motioned for her to go first down the hall. Once again Lola was ushered into that damn staff elevator. This time, her escort nearly filled the thing with his shoulders. Just stood there as the stainless steel cubicle descended through the lower levels, looking at her with a bovine expression that made her glad she’d be leaving tomorrow. No sense in letting any more Aphrodite guys try for a piece of her!

  The doors opened on a narrow, grim corridor that had to be in the very belly of the ship: the lighting was minimal and the decor was nonexistent. Pale gray walls, and carpet of the same shade but darker.

  Get used to it, she told herself. The jail won’t be much like the Aphrodisia Suite, either.

  But again, what did it matter? Tomorrow she was out of here.

  Lola walked slightly ahead of Big George, because there was
n’t room for them to walk side by side on this level. A beefy paw rested on her shoulder—as though she might run! She didn’t dare shrug out from under it.

  Up ahead, she caught sight of the security office where Rio had shown her those monitors. Beyond it were a couple of closed doors marked ISOLATION. They were painted a dull putty like the walls; no way to see in or out of them.

  So ships really do have a jail. Or solitary confinement, anyway.

  Lola sighed. At least this way, she didn’t have to pack all her stuff. No doubt Aric was already loading her suitcase…probably keeping a few souvenirs, so he could wear them later. Tomorrow they’d dump her off on the pier in San Juan, along with her luggage, and this would all be behind her.

  But what the hell was this in front of her?

  George was pushing his metal key into the the first door’s knob lock. But when he swung it open, she saw a figure seated on a bunk in the shadows.

  Lola stared into the dimness. “I beg your pardon, George, but there’s already someone in this—Fletch?!”

  The man gazing back at her sported a pale grizzle around his jaw, uncombed hair like a haystack, and rumpled clothes that were smelling mighty ripe. But she recognized those eyes! And right now they were saying she was in for more surprises—probably things she didn’t want to know—than she’d anticipated.

  “Dennis Fletcher,” she rasped, “what the hell are you doing here?”

  32

  “Guard, you cannot put this woman in here with me!”

  George’s diamond stud flashed when he snickered. He blocked Fletch’s escape with his linebacker body.

  “Captain’s orders,” he said with a shake of his neckless head. “Cain’t nobody go against what The Man says.”

  “Well, I’m not going in there!” Lola spouted. “This whole week has been one trick after another, and now—and you started the whole damn thing with that Dear Lola note! Didn’t you, Fletch?”

  The slender man in the cell—the man she’d almost married—looked at her like she was six shades of stupid for asking that.