Shades of Desire: 10 Sweet & Spicy Romances

by J. A. Coffey

  He held the small rectangle of paper between his thumb and index finger, unmoving. Finally he said, "My dad, two of my brothers and one brotherin- law all work together. Sometimes I think that's a little too much family in a confined space."

  Was that sadness in his voice?

  She reached out, taking his hand in her own. "Did you always want to be a plumber?" Or did he have other dreams? Did he wonder about that other road he could have taken?

  Twining their fingers together, he pocketed the card. "I never wanted to be a plumber."

  She thought there was more to his answer than what he said. Family issues were hard to deal with. His problems could probably dwarf hers. She needed to turn her pop-psychology mind off. He wasn't asking for therapy; he was just talking. "What was your dream?"

  "Why did you leave thirteen thousand dollars in the casino?" He stood, walked to the door and turned around. "Thirteen grand. That's rent for a couple months in New York. A nice cushion in your bank account, and you left it behind. What for?"

  His eyes burned into hers, and still, she didn't know how much of the truth to tell him. She didn't want him to think she was nuts, or run screaming off the ship. How did she tell him her secrets without that happening?

  "Why do you keep seeking me out?"

  "I'm not." But she could see the lie reflected in his eyes.

  The heat inside the room magnified, causing a catch in Casey's throat. "You came on to me like a freight train earlier." She placed a quick kiss on his lips. "Sought out my stateroom." She increased the pressure on his mouth this time, flicked her tongue against closed lips. "Had some pretty amazing sex with me on deck and then mysteriously bumped into me in the casino. And you could have left this room a hundred times already, but you haven't. Why not?"

  Mason stepped back, putting a fragment of space between their bodies. "Look, I know there's something going on with you. Up on the deck earlier you were...different," he said, running his hands through her hair. They were only inches apart. "What are you running from?"

  "Maybe I just wanted to be alone with you."

  This time, he nipped at her lips.

  "Liar."

  Everything faded away. He was so close she could smell the soap he used in the shower. The scent of his cologne, and underneath it all, him. "I'll tell you my secrets if you tell me yours," she said against his mouth. She knew there was something he wasn't telling her. Something about his own past that he was keeping from her. It really shouldn't be this important to know his secrets, at least not yet. She was jumping in too far and too fast. She couldn't stop.

  Casey pulled his shirt from the waistband of his jeans and pushed it over his shoulders.

  His hands lifted her t-shirt from her body as he backed them into the sauna again. Hot air touched her skin, made her nipples pucker.

  "Who says I've got a secret?" He stood, pulling her with him. He went to work on the button and zip enclosure on her hip. In a second, she stood before him, naked. His eyes burned as he looked at her.

  She felt the air suck from her lungs. The room was too hot or he was; she couldn't decide which. "Everybody has at least one secret," she said, concentrating on bringing air to her lungs and reaching out to open his zipper. She was not going to pass out. She was going to enjoy the moment. And this time, she was going to look at him.

  Pushing his pants over his hips, she took a step back.

  Holy Mary, Mother of God. She had had that inside her before? He speared out from the black hair between his thighs, looking nearly as long as her forearm.

  Pulling a condom from the pocket of his pants, he said, "Like what you see?"

  She felt her cheeks burn. Definitely she liked what she saw. Nodding, she turned to the bench but before she could relax her gelatinfilled legs, he wrapped his hands around her arms and pushed her against the wall.

  He found her breast, taking it in his mouth like he was starving. Her nipple pebbled as he teased the distended tip with his tongue. She wrapped her legs around his waist. She buried her hands in his hair as a slow groan escaped her.

  "Casey,".

  Vaguely, she heard her name.

  "Mmm?"

  Raising his mouth from her breast, he smiled and kissed her mouth. "Nothing. I just like saying your name." Then his tongue plunged inside her mouth, matching her own thrust for thrust.

  He trailed his fingers from her neck, down her torso and finally to the soft flesh of her thighs, making every muscle in her body come alive with the soft touch. Her belly quivered. Another touch, no matter how innocuous, and she would be lost.

  His fingers caught in the cotton around her hips and he tugged it down, pushing her feet to the floor. He followed the movement with his mouth down her body. His tongue found her moist center and feasted. She clutched his shoulders as waves of pleasure radiated through her.

  "Mason, now." She wasn't sure if she said the words aloud, but he stood, pulling her legs to lock around his hips and thrust inside her. For a few seconds he was still, and then slowly began to move.

  Inch by inch, he withdrew and then pressed into her body. With every movement, the pressure inside her began to grow until they were riding the wave together. She wanted more. More time to forget. More time to get to know him.

  They had a week, technically, but this really had to be the end. She couldn't avoid the reporter by banging Mason in any open room on the ship. This was it. Their encore.

  She dug her fingernails into his shoulders, and her body began to quake. His hands tightened on her hips and he barked his release.

  They rested for a few seconds, still connected in the most intimate of ways. He rested his forehead against hers, and their breathing returned to normal.

  "Sweet lord, you're going to kill me," he said.

  She smiled, thinking the same thing. "But it will be a beautiful death," she replied.

  Chapter Seven

  The moist air of the sauna kept Mason's body temperature in the warmer than normal range, but it wasn't uncomfortable. If he had to, he could spend the rest of his life right here. The room felt nice. Better than nice. He shifted to a more comfortable position, allowing Casey's head to rest on his shoulder.

  What the hell was he doing? Making love to a beautiful woman, that's what. Curled around Casey's body on the narrow bench in the sauna, he knew exactly what he was doing. When her head had fallen forward to rest on his shoulder, he'd carried her across the room and settled here. What he couldn't figure out was why.

  He was either sleeping with a married woman or a liar. Mason Drury didn't normally do either. To top that off, he was lying to her, too. There was no reason for it. Sure, he was a reporter, but he wasn't writing the story on her. He wouldn't be allowed to write obituaries once he talked to Haynes. If he just came clean, he could explain about the white flashes she was running from. The flash wasn't high powered enough for the cameras professional photographers used. Most likely, some of her fans had seen her in the casino and decided to get a few snapshots. Sending Casey into a panic. But he didn't tell her that. He acted like he hadn't seen anything unusual at all. He was digging a hole he wasn't sure he could escape.

  Casey slept soundly with his arms tight around her midsection. Her back pressed to his chest, using his arm as a pillow, she looked so peaceful. The haunted look gone completely for the first time since he'd seen her in the boarding line. His heart softened a bit. He was sabotaging this...whatever it was with her. Adding her to his list of lovers-turned-friends had seemed fine earlier.

  Why was he having doubts about it now? This was a love cruise. People were supposed to do crazy things with practically perfect strangers.

  She snuggled closer into his arms, her bottom burrowing into his pelvis, and he immediately hardened. "Hey," she said, the words barely registering in his mind. The tap on his forearm registered more. She twisted around to look at him, her hair falling away over his arm.

  He smiled. "Hey, yourself."

  "I, um," she said, licking her li
ps. "I guess I owe you that explanation now, huh?" She shifted her hips.

  Three times in one day? What was he, a college kid again? He was going to kill himself. Or Casey. "Explain?" He pushed the words from his going to kill himself. Or Casey. "Explain?" He pushed the words from his mouth. Explain what, again? Every time she moved, more blood rushed from his brain to his penis. Much more and he was going to blow.

  "I don't normally do things like this," she said, sitting up and giving him some much-needed breathing room. He looked at the opposite wall, concentrating on calming the blood pulsing through his body. His muscles relaxed minutely.

  Stepping into her skirt, she began to dress with her back to him. She talked as she put first one piece of clothing on, then another. He followed suit. Maybe if they were both fully dressed, they could finally talk like grown-ups instead of hormonal teenagers.

  "You see, I have this case of writer's block," she was saying. With the world focused on her next book, reporters hounding her about a bad break-up, it was no wonder she couldn't write. Sometimes he couldn't write his stories simply because of a looming five o'clock deadline. Imagine that deadline compounded by ugly headlines. He'd have a hell of a case of writer's block.

  She smiled over her shoulder at him. "Yeah. I don't think we ever got around to formal introductions, but I write self-help books. Anyway, I have this deadline in a few months and I haven't been able to write a word." Now they were getting into familiar territory. The break-up. That was probably causing her writer's block more than the deadline.

  *****

  "So my agent convinced me to come on this cruise." Straightening the hem of the t-shirt, Casey turned. She felt better fully dressed. Like she was back in control. "Only I met you, and then there's this random guy in my room and coincidentally we share the last name.

  The ship's employees got the wrong idea, and everyone on board threw us a honeymoon party." She held up a hand before he could say anything. From the anger in his posture to the clenching of his hands, she could see he didn't believe her. How could she make him understand that she was telling him the truth, just not all of it?

  "I'm not married. I'm telling you all this because the ship apparently sent invitations to all the guests and I don't want you to think I...well, that I would--" She gestured between them, but didn't finish the sentence. "I didn't even know the other guy until earlier today, but I can't throw him out of the room because there is no place else for him to sleep." She shrugged her right shoulder and sat down heavily. None of this made her seem discriminating. What must Mason think of her? And why did she care? He was just another random guy, after all. "He gets nosebleeds when he's under stress."

  "So you're torturing him." The words sounded flat to her ears. She squinted her eyes in anger. "I am not torturing him. There's no place else for him to stay, so I have no choice but to share the room with him. I'm trying to stay away from him as much as possible, but then when he's alone everyone on board comes up to congratulate him about us--"

  "And more stress," Mason finished the sentence for her. "Exactly." She shouldn't have had sex with Mason again; that was making this so much worse. She had to drop him. Thanks for the orgasms, please don't call me. Wasn't that every man's dream? "And that's why it would be better if we just avoided each other the rest of the cruise." Rising, she moved to the door.

  Staying away from him was the last thing she wanted. Her life was out of control, but he had a way of making it seem alright. Like she could take control back.

  That was the nuttiest part of it all. She couldn't take control. The reporter on board the ship had all the control, the people who bought her books, her editor. Agent.

  "I don't think that's such a good idea." Mason's words stopped her cold at the door. He stood behind her, hands resting loosely on her shoulders. "There's a strange man in your room, and everyone on board the ship thinks you're a newlywed." He turned her around to face him. "But that doesn't explain why we ran from the casino, through two different floors, before coming to the sauna to make love again. What else are you running from?"

  Crap. He wasn't going to take her half-truths for the gospel. She might as well tell him the whole thing. At least then he would see why they needed to keep their distance. He would probably go running in the opposite direction. She took a deep breath. "There's a reporter following me around."

  The color in his face drained away, leaving a pallor beneath his tanned skin. The pulse at his temple beat faster and his hands tightened on her upper arms. "A reporter?"

  She nodded, and then another lie flew from her lips. "People like what I have to say. You know the American press--build someone up just so you can bring them down." Shut up, shut up, shut up and tell the truth.

  "And finding out you're sharing a room with a perfect stranger and sleeping with another one wouldn't be good P.R.?" He dropped his hands, shoving them deep in his pockets.

  He probably thought she was ashamed to be seen with a plumber. If only he knew.

  She didn't care about his business. It was enough that she saw kindness and friendship in his eyes when he looked at her. As if he could see inside her. He would hate her if she kept dragging him through the muck of her life, and that was something she didn't think she could handle.

  Casey barely stopped herself from reaching out to him. "You don't want to deal with this. They're maniacs. They pry into your background, pull out a black and white incident and make it look gray. You'd be better off to just stay away from me."

  She turned her back on him and reached for the door just as it rattled from the other side.

  "Somebody in there?"

  She froze. Who was out there? It was a man's voice, but she didn't recognize it. Damn it, why did she choose a room without a window? At least then she could look out and see if it was a ship employee or a passenger. Or see if there really was a hidden camera show taping this cruise of humiliation. Whoever was on the other side banged two more times. "Hey! Open up. Locking the door isn't allowed." The door rattled as the man twisted the knob. Panicked, she looked from Mason to the door and back again. Mason stepped forward, opening the door just a crack and peeking his head around the corner. He kept his body between whoever was on the other side of the door and her. Protecting her. She didn't deserve this, and he deserved so much better.

  "Maintenance. The temperature gauge is off. We're just checking it out."

  "Oh. You should put up a sign," the man said.

  "Come back tomorrow morning." Mason kept his body between the partially open door and the hall. She flattened her back against the wall. What a wimp she was. Finally Mason closed and locked the door. Turning, he positioned his body in front of the door. Eyeing her warily, he said, "Now, I think we were discussing what was best for me."

  She dug the heels of her palms into her eyes. Not what was best for him.

  She didn't think of him like a child. She was only thinking of cutting things off before either of them got hurt.

  Liar.

  He ran his index finger down the side of her face. "There are other alternatives, you know." His voice was barely above a whisper but still seemed loud in the quiet room. She shook her head. There were no alternatives. Not once the tabloids got involved. Stand, fight or run. Those were the options. All of them would be twisted into something ugly.

  "You could find a reporter who isn't interested in the rumors. Someone who would write about your book, the deal and ignore the rest."

  Yeah. Then pink elephants and orange pigs would start pulling Santa's sleigh on Easter.

  "Not likely. It's all about headlines and ratings, and gossip feeds both. Just forget about me. Keep your life sane."

  Anger flashed in his eyes. Mason took Casey's arms in his hands and squeezed. "Then let them print what they want and ignore it. Your fans don't care about the headlines. Everyone I saw at the party tonight cared about you. Your books. That's it." He stopped talking abruptly when Casey turned her face to his. He knew? He knew, and had pretended he d
idn't.

  "You were there? You keep asking me what's wrong, like you don't know, but you were there?"

  He pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over. Casey read the invitation and felt another piece of her world crumble. He knew? He read the invitation, thought she was married and still tracked her down? What kind of man did that?

  "How long have you had this? Was it part of your plan? Sleep with the married woman. Put another notch on your belt?"

  Mason shook his head and squeezed her arms. "It wasn't like that. I found the invitation when I went back to my room this evening. I went to the party to find out why a married woman slept with me, and saw you hustling from the room. Then you dragged me out of the casino and here we are."

  "Nice little package you put it into. 'And here we are,'" Casey mocked him. It was easier than focusing on the fact that he thought she was married and still tracked her down. Had he also known she was a writer? Was part of his plan to tell the papers he'd slept with her on her honeymoon? Mind racing, she pushed against his chest.

  Moving quickly, she hurried around him to the door. "Just stay away from me. It's the best option I can think of," she said and closed the door behind her.

  Chapter Eight

  Instead of leaving down the hallway, Casey ducked inside the weight room. She was right--there were a lot of places to hide. The sauna door opened a few minutes after she left and Mason's footsteps echoed down the passage. She had hidden out like a child, but it was for the best.

  Casey watched the hand on the wall clock move from one to two to three. Fifteen minutes. Surely fifteen minutes was long enough to wait. The only problem with hiding in the weight room was, if she moved even a little bit, anyone on the other side of that big glass door would see her. If she didn't move, she wouldn't know if it was safe to come out.