Shades of Desire: 10 Sweet & Spicy Romances

by J. A. Coffey

  Hired someone? A hunk to fill my days? A paid hunk. Casey tried to feel mad, but couldn’t. Jane meant well. With Casey’s track record, maybe paying someone was the best she could do. Besides, at least Jane’s Mr. Right Now wouldn’t turn into Mr. Already Married-Engaged-Committed-Gay Guy.

  Still, it felt sleazy. Casey never had a problem attracting men. Of course, her plans to keep the man around never worked out. Forget it. Jane’s hired hunk could just find some other desperate woman to romance.

  Casey stepped up to the check-in counter as another happy cruiser bebopped down the hallway. The old man pulled his equally aged wife along beside him. He’d be playing shuffleboard, and she would be getting her hair done by the time Casey got checked in.

  She wanted to be that carefree. Wanted to be-bop down the hall and find a cute, non-retirement-age guy. One who wasn’t being paid to romance her, who wouldn’t print their break-up to promote his career.

  “Cassandra Cash,” she said, handing her ticket to the purser behind the counter. His overly-tanned skin pulled tight around his eyes and mouth. Bottle-black hair was expertly cut just above his ears. Crisp uniform, white knee socks and tennis shoes. The man had watched one too many episodes of The Love Boat.

  Couldn’t work wait, just this once? Couldn’t she leave the laptop in her luggage under the bed? Just because Jane hired a man didn’t mean Casey couldn’t develop her own plan. When the guy introduced himself, she would let him know she wasn’t interested. She could find her own hunk. There had to be at least one or two guys under the age of sixty and not attached to a wife or girlfriend on a ship with five thousand passengers.

  If that failed, she’d work on the book.

  Her cell phone buzzed. Reading Jane’s name on the incoming line, Casey shook her head and sighed. Before she could respond, her agent said, “And don’t you dare pull that laptop out of its case.” As quickly as she was on the line, Jane rang off.

  Casey smiled. Jane knew her too well.

  “I’d like to make you look like that some early morning out at sea.” The sultry words slipped into Casey’s consciousness. She spun around. A man straight from the pages of one of her favorite romance novels stood a few feet to her right.

  “I beg your pardon?” She sounded prissy. Prissy and breathless. What a combination. Yes, I’m a stuck-up asthmatic looking for love. Would you like to be my escort?

  The stranger smiled as he pushed a lock of hair behind her ear. Her skin sizzled at his touch. Had to be the Florida heat. Never in her twenty-six years had Casey felt that wonderful burn from a stranger’s simple touch. All her anger at Jane, at the crazy situation, fled.

  “I said I’d like to make you look like that. Wide-eyed. Breathless. Satisfied.” He smiled around the words, as if he could taste that satisfaction. A flock of seagulls took flight in her belly.

  He leaned forward and whispered in her ear. “On second thought, I like this look much better. Like release is just around the corner.”

  Okay, if she was going to pick up this guy she had to start somewhere. She took a shallow breath, swallowed hard and tried to channel Sahara, the heroine from the novel in her carryon. Tough, flirtatious Sahara knew exactly what she wanted to how to get it.

  “If you want to see what it takes to satisfy me in the mornings,” Casey said, walking her fingers up his broad chest to push him back a hair, “first, you’ll have to figure out how to indulge me at night.” Yes! That sounded exactly like Sahara. She wasn’t sure how long she could keep this up, but who cared? So what if Cassandra Cash, self-help author, flirted like a novice at her promises ceremony? She was on a cruise. Time to live a little.

  The stranger stepped closer and trapped her hand in his own against his chest. His heart tap-tapped through the thin black cotton of his t-shirt, the touch burning her skin.

  Cocking his head to one side, he stepped closer and leaned against the check-in counter. Pointed at the phone clutched in Casey’s free hand. “I bet it takes more than a phone call to make you look this contented in the morning.”

  Casey fought the urge to giggle. Really, the man had lines that would sound hokey coming from a 1970’s porn movie. But his body... For six feet of tanned and toned muscle, Casey could overlook cheesy come-on lines.

  His brown hair was a little long and curved along his neck to brush the collar of his shirt. Emerald green eyes. She’d always been a sucker for green eyes. His nose had been broken at least once, giving his face just enough character to keep him from being moviestar perfect. A tiny scar ran diagonally from his nose to the corner of his wide mouth. Full lips.

  Hoo-boy. He was cute. And cut. Casey bet there was at least a six-pack hiding under his tee, and the way his lower body filled out his worn blue jeans, another prize waited below his waist.

  Please let this be Jane’s Mr. Right. The thought of being romanced by a paid escort suddenly wasn’t as sleazy. Who cared if Jane had set this encounter up? Casey could suddenly see the beauty of the plan. Seven days’ worth of encounters.

  “See anything you like?”

  Casey fought hard to control the blush climbing her cheeks, and lost. Stiffening her spine, she said, “Just wondering if you’re up to my, uh, specifications.”

  “I’m not sure you can judge that in a crowded lobby, but I’d be happy to meet up with you later to discuss those specifications.”

  She pulled her hand from his and then, unsure what to do with the appendage, held it between their bodies. “I’m Casey Cash,” she said.

  “I know.”

  He knew, and without her using her full name. He had to be Jane’s escort. Her escort. Casey did a happy dance in her mind but kept her eyes focused on the handsome stranger.

  He straightened, and then waited a few beats before taking her small hand in his once more. He cupped his other hand around their enclosed fists. Was he going to kiss her hand? Casey’s breath shortened in anticipation. What would those full lips feel like against the sensitive skin above her thumb?

  But he didn’t kiss her hand. Instead, he squeezed gently and rubbed his thumb against the soft skin on back of her hand.

  “Mason Drury,” he said, letting her hand fall back to her side. He studied her as if memorizing her face. Fire ignited in her belly. His eyes went a bit darker in the middle.

  Jane was a goddess. When Casey got back to New York, she would...do something. She couldn’t think. Could only stare into the green depths of Mason Drury’s eyes, could still feel his thumb pressing against the back of her hand. Jane was right. Casey did need relaxation, and if she wasn’t mistaken, Mason could relax her all the way to Jamaica and back.

  He arched one eyebrow and grinned. “If you need any help finding that satisfied look some morning, I’ll be around.”

  Her mouth went dry. “I...um...Why don’t we meet up on the Serenity deck, say around six or so. We could have a drink. Or something.” Nice. Just what an experienced romance novel heroine would say. Where had the Sahara who had just come on to him gone? Casey sounded desperate. Mason Drury would run in the opposite direction.

  “Six o’clock. See ya then.” Mason held her captive with his eyes. He moved to the side and picked up his bags. “Casey Cash,” he said. Even the shortened version of her name sounded refined coming from his lips. “It was very nice meeting you.”

  Whew. Mason Drury. Casey leaned against the counter, waiting for the purser to check her in.

  Why shouldn’t she use him for sex? She needed a man just like him to live in the pages of her new book, so she could write about having it all without feeling like the fraud dumped by a media personality. Mason could so be the model hero. He already had the body for it. From the way he handled her in front of the crowd, she’d bet he knew his way around without the crowd, too. His lines were a bit corny, but she could rewrite them for him. Let him romance her on the cruise.

  No, she couldn’t use him for a book.

  Of course, he was using her for a paycheck.

  His tight butt ap
peared in her mind, quickly followed by legs, chest, arms and face. He would enjoy their time together as much as she would, Nate’s claims be damned. Jane was likely right. His claim to be gay would fuel headlines and since he hadn’t been quoted in any of the stories, he could deny them whenever he wanted, creating even more press for his career.

  No point wasting Jane’s money. Mason had the kind of face and body a woman wanted to keep around, but he probably broke women’s hearts. She would do all the other women on board a favor by keeping him occupied.

  “Ms. Cash?” The words came in a haze to Casey’s ears. A white plastic card with the ship’s emblem waved across her vision, pulling her back to the check in counter. “Ms. Cash, your room is ready.”

  Mason’s butt worked its way into her mind again.

  “You’ll be in Penthouse Suite 1102. If you need anything else, please call the desk. We’re here to make this a dream vacation.” The concierge waggled his eyebrows, as if they shared a private joke. “Just take the elevators to the eleventh floor.”

  An image of Mason in board shorts, waiting in a cabana and with an umbrella drink in hand distracted her again.

  “And the Serenity deck is…”

  “Just one floor above your deck. If you’d like me to show you around…”

  Casey pocketed the key card. “No, thank you.” Mason Drury fit the mold of cruise ship tour guide. To a T. It was settled, then. Six o’clock was a long way away. Why waste the time?

  *****

  Mason slowed as he walked down the passageway. Pulling his Blackberry from his bag, he texted his editor. This job was going to be quick and easy. He’d get the interview with Cassandra Cash tonight, and then enjoy the next week getting to know the real woman. A few seconds after he sent the message to Randall Haynes, the phone rang.

  “News Daily ran a story that Cassandra Cash’s ex is gay.” Haynes’s voice boomed through the phone. “Forget the fluff-pitch for her new book deal. Get the dirt.”

  Mason stopped, leaned against the wall and squeezed the bridge of his nose. God, his career was going down the toilet fast. He’d gone from dirty politicians to a dirty Hollywood breakup in the space of a month.

  “Don’t softball this, Drury, you’re already on thin ice. Get it right.”

  Shit. He didn’t need that thrown in his face. His story on the mayor’s ties to mob money had been right on. But his source had flipped, and now Mason was on the outside of the tight circle he used to run. Sidelined to report gossip, not the news that really mattered.

  “You really think our readers care why Miss Romance and the actorslash- radio guy broke up?” He wanted the paper to back the original story. At least it wasn’t hyped up gossip. Sure it was boring, but he could recover from a fluff piece. Mason didn’t know if his tattered reputation could stand the tabloid-gossip-writer hit.

  “If they don’t, we’ll make them. Her readers deserve to know everything about her, not just the pretty stuff.”

  Right. Living in the public eye meant everyone needed to know what kind of toilet paper Cassandra Cash used--or why she broke things off with her latest boyfriend. He held in a sigh, knowing Haynes would read it the wrong way. He was willing to do the story; he just didn’t like it.

  “Your message says you’ve already met with her. I want to go to press with the real story yesterday. And don’t expect this to be easy. She was a pro at avoiding the press even before this broke. Now that it has, she’ll be even harder to nail down.” Haynes clicked off, leaving Mason staring at the Blackberry.

  Great. He had the feeling the Cassandra Cash he’d met in line wouldn’t be thrilled to spend time with him after he asked about the break-up. This cruise sucked.

  It was his fault. He hadn’t officially met with her, had only flirted with her in line. Crap on a cracker. His life had turned to crap on a cracker.

  “Hey, stranger.” The words sent his body into alert mode.

  Casey stood in the middle of the hall, a bellboy close on her heels with several bags on a cart. She motioned the kid ahead of her and turned to Mason.

  “I thought we decided on six o’clock?”

  She smiled and trailed her handdown his arm. “You don’t look like the waiting around type. I’m surprised.”

  Damn, but she was good. Mason took a breath. He had to tell her who he was, that he needed an interview. Who knew? Maybe her reputation as a reporter-eater was overblown.

  “Six o’clock’s a long way away. What do you say we get that drink now?”

  She stepped closer, and he stared at the play of muscles on her tanned legs. Perched on three-inch heels, her calf muscles were taut. He imagined that if he reached around her, her butt would be tight under his fingers, too.

  Clamping down on his libido, he dragged his brain off her body and back to the present. Maybe she’d give him the information, and they could continue this...whatever it was.

  And maybe Haynes hadn’t demoted him to gossip for the politician snafu.

  The elevator at his back dinged, reinforcing his doubt that Casey would save him from being drawn and quartered, much less continue this attraction if he trashed her reputation more than Nate Henderson already had.

  Highly doubtful.

  They both stepped into the elevator. “Going down?” He tried not to think how apt those words could turn out to be.

  She shook her head and pressed a button on the panel. “Actually, going up.”

  Screw it. He had a life to get back to. A job to save. That didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy a little time with her before she found out who he really was.

  Pressing the hold button, he pushed her against the wall. He bracketed her head with his hands, watching her expression carefully. If she pulled back even a little, he would force himself to the other side of the car. If she didn’t...

  Blue eyes invited him closer. He tilted his head and moved in. Her bag plopped to the floor as she reached her arms around his neck, and when he waited a beat too long, she pulled his head to hers.

  Her lips felt like silk. Nipping at the edges, he placed mini-kisses along her mouth, teasing it open. Her tongue met his, drawing it into her sweet mouth. She tasted like apples and champagne.

  He wanted to go slower. To enjoy the taste of her mouth for hours, but if this was the only kiss he’d have with her, he had to make it good. He wanted to feel her body under his hands.

  Wanted to hear her moan. Scream.

  Burying his hands in her hair, he pulled her closer until her breasts pressed against his chest. The orbs tightened until her nipples pressed through her t-shirt and into his own.

  God, but she felt good.

  Wrapping one hand in her long tresses, he allowed the other to roam her body. With his thumb, he massaged the pulse beating madly at the base of her throat, and he quickly replaced his thumb with his mouth.

  *****

  Casey moaned. The man was a master. He seemed to be touching all the right places at exactly the right moment.

  Battery-powered stimulation hadnothing on Mason Drury. The next seven nights were going to be heavenly.

  When his hand journeyed from neck to breast, she arched her back to allow him better access. But it wasn’t enough.

  She couldn’t just let him touch her. She needed to touch him. His hand slipped in to the scooped neck of her tshirt, to play with the lace of her bra, and she had enough of only being fondled.

  Trailing her hands from the back of his neck and around to his chest, she reveled in the feel of his tightening muscles. With her fingertips, she played the hard edges of his six-pack. When his breath quickened, mirroring her short gasps, she pushed her hands into his waistband.

  Breep.

  She pulled t-shirt from jeans, running her hands beneath the cool cotton to feel the hot flesh beneath. His muscles tightened even more with the skin-to-skin contact.

  Breeep. Breeep. Breep.

  “What the hell?” Mason pulled back, and the breeze of air from his movement cooled her fevered s
kin. Dazed, she looked around. What was that noise?

  A flashing light on the elevator console caught her eye. The loud breep and the flashing light seemed to be in sync.

  “Shit.” He looked from the console to her and back again. “They must think it’s broken.” He flashed a wry smile. “I guess we’ll have to continue this somewhere else.” He flicked his index finger against the hold button, effectively shutting off the breeping light and sending the elevator into motion.

  Continue, definitely. But first she needed an inch of breathing room. This was going too fast. She ran a hand through her hair, wondering just what she would look like when she stepped off the elevator. She needed a moment. Just one.

  Maybe two.

  Picking up her bag from the floor, she straightened her skirt, wondering how it had become twisted around her waist. His hands had stayed above that area. Hadn’t they? The thought had her sneaking a look at his package. It bulged against the zipper of his jeans. So she wasn’t the only one turned on. Not that she needed to see his arousal to know how she affected him. She could feel it in his touch.

  The elevator slowed, a tinny pinging noise announcing their arrival at her floor.

  He pulled her into his arms, hugged her close, and then released her only long enough to take her hand in his.

  “Should we continue this in my room or yours?”

  Space. Just a little space. Her cell phone rang and she quickly wrestled it out of her bag. She made an apologetic face and shrugged one shoulder.

  “Six o’clock. Upper deck.” The words sounded husky to her ears.

  Mason raised one eyebrow, and then released her hand. “That’s a long time to wait.” When she stepped from the elevator, he stepped to the back of the car.

  The elevator doors closed. Why had space seemed so important just a few moments ago?