by Sabrina York
Shannon was adorable in her broad-brimmed floppy hat and enormous orange life jacket. It clashed horribly with her sundress, she said, but she said it with a laugh.
By the time they were allowed to go to their rooms, Shannon was hungry so they took a detour over to the shrimp bar on the Lido Deck and hand-fed each other crustaceans and cocktail sauce and buttered bread until they could hold no more.
They walked to their room—finally—Shannon swinging her hat and humming. Tristan snaked an arm around her waist. God it was good to be here with her. Alone. Never mind the other two thousand people on the boat. He didn’t have to worry that anyone would see them or recognize them. He had her all to himself. All weekend.
He kissed her neck and she leaned in to him. “Are you happy?”
“Mmm. This is wonderful. After we unpack, how about we go up on deck and play Titanic?”
“Play Titanic?” He bit back a smile at her enthusiasm. Damn, he liked her enthusiasm.
“You know.” She threw her arms up in the air. Her hat hit the wall. “‘I’m the king of the world!’”
He chuckled and pulled her back into his arms. “I’d rather play ‘I’m the king of the bedroom’.”
She snuggled closer and kissed his neck, his chest. Her clever fingers found a sensitive nipple. “You are the king of the bedroom,” she whispered and lust slashed through him.
But just then the cabin door to their right opened and a herd of screaming children dressed in swimsuits and floaties erupted into the hallway. To his horror, Shannon didn’t step away from him. Rather, she found his nipple again and, once the children and their frazzled mother had passed, tweaked it.
Tristan flinched. “Whoa!” He grabbed for her hand and held it still when she would have tweaked him once more.
Her attention drifted lower. He flinched again as she found something more substantial to tweak.
“Where’s our room?” Her voice was hungry and hard.
“Right here.” He pulled out his keycard and slipped it into the lock.
They didn’t even notice the room. There could have been a herd of elephants milling about and they wouldn’t have noticed. They only noticed each other. They only noticed the hunger in each other’s eyes and the burning in their bodies.
It was all Tristan could do to get Shannon’s sundress over her head, get his pants off—kicking madly to dislodge his shoes. He eventually gave up and walked her backward to the bed, taking tiny steps to accommodate the constriction around his ankles. And then…
He was in her.
She was wet and hot and oh so tight. Her cunt massaged his cock with each thrust, sucked at it with each withdrawal. Their coupling was hard and hot and fast. It had been far too long since they’d been together, since he’d been in her. Since Wednesday, if he counted right. Far too long. Far too long for sanity. Certainly too long for seduction.
Fortunately Shannon, his adorable, delicious, sensual Shannon, didn’t require seduction. She wanted to be fucked and that was just what he gave her. He pounded into her from one angle and then another, barely pausing to think, barely pausing to breathe. It was pure instinct. When her cries became pleas and her pleas became too loud, he took her mouth with his and swallowed them.
She tightened around him. The tension and the heat imploded and expanded. And he knew. He knew she was there. Her bliss sent him over the edge as well and they came together in a hot wash of delight. It crawled up from his toes to the top of his head, making all the hairs on his body stand on end, making his skin prickle with pleasure, tighter and tighter until…ah! Release.
She clutched at him—inside and out—as she came, scoring his back with her nails in a frenzy of gratification.
“Yes. Yes. Yes.”
He wasn’t sure whose cries they were. Maybe they came from both of them.
He didn’t care.
He was complete. Exhausted. Drained.
He dropped his head onto her shoulder, panting like a man just finishing a marathon. And then, when he could move, he pulled his penis from her still-twitching cavern, rolled over to her side and pulled her into his arms.
It was then he noticed the elephant in the room, there on the pillow, staring at him. A whimsical creation of artfully folded towels holding a fresh flower in his trunk.
Tristan could barely hold back his laugh.
This was going to be an amazing weekend, he was sure of it. One he’d remember for the rest of his life.
The next morning he awoke, all warm and wrapped around her. He could tell by the movement of the boat that they’d docked. The chatter of the passengers disembarking and heading off for their day tours and trips wafted up through the window. He was glad he and Shannon had planned nothing. He snuggled deeper into their cocoon and pulled her closer, taking great pleasure in the feel of her soft skin against his.
She stirred and something, that wild, lustful beast inside him, stirred as well.
“Good morning.” He loved looking into her eyes first thing in the morning.
It was a wonderful way to start a day.
She smiled. It was a shy offering and he loved that too. “Good morning.”
“How did you sleep?”
A strand of her hair, an adorable tousled corkscrew curl, flopped onto her face and he brushed it away, taking the opportunity to stroke her cheek.
“Mmm.” She tucked her nose into the crook of his neck and kissed him. He shivered.
Yep. Definitely stirring.
But there was another hunger as well. His stomach growled plaintively and they both laughed. “Are you hungry? We can order breakfast in.”
She smiled up at him and opened her mouth to respond. Then her eyes flew wide. “Oh.” She pulled off the covers—exposing a tantalizing display of creamy skin—and put a hand to her belly. “Oh!”
“What is it?”
She didn’t answer. She quickly untangled herself from him, leapt from the bed and sprinted for the bathroom.
The ensuing sounds made it pretty clear to him there would be no breakfast in bed in the near future. If at all.
“Do you think you’re seasick?”
Shannon glanced up from her plate, where she was diligently drawing circles in the scrambled eggs with her fork. Tristan’s expression was dark, concerned.
How mortifying!
Of all the times to be ill.
She had retched so…wretchedly. He’d been wonderful, holding back her hair and telling her it was going to be all right. But how in heaven’s name would he ever want to be intimate with her again after seeing that? She scanned the informal dining room, mentally logging all the potential places she could throw up again should the feeling return.
“I’m so sorry.”
“Stop saying that. You’ve nothing to be sorry for.”
She pushed her plate away. Really, she could bear the sulfurous smell of the eggs no longer. Which was odd. She loved eggs.
“So, do you think you’re seasick?” he repeated. She wished she could smooth the worry from his brow.
“I don’t know. I’ve never been on a cruise before.”
“But you’ve been on a boat.”
She tipped her head to think about it. “Yes. But I don’t remember feeling like this.”
“Maybe it was the shrimp. We ate a lot of shrimp last night. I’ve read about cruise-ship food.” He fell silent, brooding. “What a stupid idea. We should never have come.”
Her heart dropped. Her stomach began to churn again. “What?”
“No. No. I didn’t mean that. I just…we should have gone to a bed-and-breakfast. They don’t move.”
She patted his hand. “It was probably the shrimp.”
“I’ll take you to the doctor.”
“I’m feeling much better.” She took a sip of coffee to prove the point. When she was able to force it down, she took another.
“If it’s food poisoning—”
“I don’t think it’s food poisoning.”
“Stil
l. We should get you to the doctor. Just in case.”
“Tristan! There are so many other things we could do.”
He frowned. “No arguments. I won’t relax until I know it’s not something serious.”
She sighed. “All right.”
She let him take her to the doctor’s office but she didn’t let him come in with her. There were some things a woman just had to do on her own. But instead of going off and exploring the ship or visiting the colorful stalls on the pier, he sat outside the medical offices with his elbows on his knees and his fingers laced tightly together like a man expecting the worst.
The doctor was an older Dutch gentleman with a charming accent. He was very kind and talked Shannon through all her symptoms. He did a few tests, a urine sample, a vial of blood, which he handed off to a tech, and then he ordered coffee as they waited for the results. In the meantime they chatted about their home countries.
When the tech returned, he flashed Shannon a smile but he said nothing. He simply gave the paper to the doctor, who studied it with a serious mien. “Huh,” he grunted, grooming his bushy eyebrows.
“What is it?”
“Young lady, I think we’ve found the reason for your illness.”
“What is it?” Shannon leaned forward.
“Your hCG is high.”
“What is that?” Shannon asked in a panicked voice. Things with letters were bad.
He patted her on the knee. “No need to worry, my dear. You’re pregnant. Congratulations.”
Shannon’s jaw dropped. Her heart thudded once and then stopped, right there in her chest. It seemed to take an eternity to start back up again. Pregnant! A thousand thoughts crowded into her mind, a jumble of emotions battered her. Elation, fear, astonishment, disbelief, excitement. Fear again.
“Would you like me to tell your husband?”
Her heart now set up a rapid tattoo. Oh God. Tristan. How would he react? “No. Please. He’s…not my husband. Please don’t tell him.”
The doctor nodded and patted her hand. “I suppose you would like a moment then.”
Shannon nodded. “Yes. Please.”
He left her alone with her conundrum. Which was really the kindest thing he could have done. Shannon remained in the little plastic chair for a long time after the doctor left. Thinking. This was so much to process, too much to think about. She would have some very big decisions to make in the coming days but she made one decision right away.
She wouldn’t tell Tristan about the baby. Not now. Not yet.
Her father had been forced to marry her mother when a little slap and tickle resulted in a child. They’d been miserable. She didn’t want that for her and Tristan. She certainly didn’t want him to feel obligated to her. For anything.
He’d made it clear enough their fling was just that. A fling. Not something he even wanted his brother to know about. The idea of a baby, of eternal, endless responsibility tied to a woman he really wouldn’t have chosen for a long-lasting relationship, would horrify him.
She didn’t want that. She didn’t want this relationship to end so dismally.
She didn’t want it to end at all.
But it probably would.
When she told him.
One could not keep a baby a secret for long.
She crumpled the paper with her test results. Damn it. Just when things were going so well.
How she would handle telling him when the time came, she didn’t have a clue.
But for now, for the rest of this weekend—her last as a footloose and fancy-free woman—she was going to enjoy herself. She was going to enjoy Tristan.
These memories would have to last the rest of her life.
By God, she was going to have fun.
She would tell him when the cruise was over. When they got home, she would start worrying about this.
When they got home, everything was going to have to change.
Tristan was relieved to see Shannon emerge from the doctor’s office with a smile on her face. It was a tight, subdued smile but it beat the hell out of tears. “Everything okay?”
“Sure. Everything’s fine.” She didn’t meet his eyes. “He suggested I stay away from shrimp for a while.”
“So it was the shrimp?”
She wrinkled her nose. He moved in to kiss her but she leaned away and grabbed his hand. “Come on, Tristan. Let’s go out on the pier.”
He pulled her into his arms. “Wouldn’t you rather go back to the room?” He tried to make his voice sexy and hot but her lips tightened and she shook her head.
“I’ve never been to Mexico.”
“It’s Ensenada.”
She laughed. “That’s still Mexico.”
“Hardly. It’s like, LA-South.”
“Come on. I want to go shopping.” She tugged at his hand and, of course, he followed. But something niggled at the back of his mind. A little voice whispered something was wrong. He just couldn’t put his finger on it.
Not to save his life.
Chapter Twelve
The pier was a tourist trap. Passengers—from the boats docked neatly in a row—vied with the each other to purchase cheesy trinkets but Shannon loved it. It was a crazy carnival atmosphere with the delicious scent of churros and lime heavy in the air. Strolling mariachi bands entertained the crowd and a troupe of jugglers performed tricks for tips. Booze flowed freely.
Tristan and Shannon walked from stall to stall, holding hands. Every once in a while one would point something out to the other and they would laugh. The sun was warm on her shoulders and a soft breeze teased at her hair. She tipped up her face, just enjoying the day, the feel of his palm against hers. His presence by her side.
Over to her left, a little girl with enormous brown eyes was making her dog, a poor Chihuahua dressed up like a clown, do flips for the crowd. Shannon’s heart melted. She fished in her purse and pulled out a five and tucked it into the tip jar.
“You shouldn’t encourage her,” Tristan whispered into her ear.
“Why not? They’re so cute.”
“She should be in school.”
Shannon laughed. “You, sir, are a curmudgeon.”
His eye went wide. “I am not a curmudgeon.”
“You are. Oh look.” Another stall, one with tiny clothes decorated with intricate embroidery, caught her eye. She stepped closer. “How adorable.”
“Baby clothes?”
Shannon stilled. One piece, an exquisite christening gown, snared her attention and something inside her quivered. It hit her again, and it hit her hard. She was going to have a baby. A baby who might wear a gown like this.
An emotion she’d never known welled up in her chest. She pulled the hanger from the rack and held the piece out. Once she touched it, she knew she had to have it.
“Cuánto?”
“You’re not going to buy that, are you?”
She froze. She’d forgotten. Forgotten he didn’t know. Forgotten she couldn’t tell him. She flashed him an enormous smile. “For my sister.”
“Is she expecting?”
“They’re trying.” She turned back to the vendor, a wrinkled old woman with the bright light of hope in her eyes. “Cuánto?”
The woman told her the price and though it was high, Shannon pulled out the money and paid for the little dress right then and there. As the woman wrapped the gown in tissue, Shannon struggled with feelings she couldn’t quite place. There was a happiness, a bone-deep elation, but it was wreathed in sadness. Regret.
She took the bag, trembling with the knowledge she’d just made the first purchase she would ever make for her child. Her child.
She would never forget this moment.
“Hey! Margaritas.” Tristan snapped his fingers like a flamenco dancer. “Do you want one?”
Shannon put her hand to her belly and wrinkled her nose. “I-I’d better not.”
“Oh yeah.” His face fell. “Are you still feeling queasy?”
“No.” She wasn’t. In fac
t, she felt wonderful. “But you go ahead. I want—” Heavens. What was that smell? She cast around the plaza until she found it. A fajita stand. Her mouth watered. Like a zombie, she made her way in that direction. “Umm. Fajitas.”
Tristan skipped along behind her. “Shannon. I don’t think you should have spicy foods.”
“Mmm. Onions. And peppers.” Her belly growled. She wanted nothing more than to eat and eat and eat.
He gave in eventually and they both had fajitas. He washed his down with a margarita and she had a bottle of water.
She had another fajita. And, to Tristan’s astonishment, another. On top of that she gobbled down two churros and a cup of ice cream.
“You’re amazing.” Tristan laughed as she licked the last little bit of ice cream from her cup and looked around for more.
She grinned. “Just making up for lost time, I guess.”
“I guess!”
They were walking back to the boat, hand in hand, when Tristan suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Shit!”
Shannon, perforce, stopped as well. “What is it?”
“Come here. Hurry.”
He pulled her around a corner and together they huddled behind a stall featuring enormous sombreros with the word “MEXICO” painted in gaudy colors on the brim.
“Did you want to buy a hat?”
“No. Shh!” He peered out at the crowd. His entire body was tense.
“What’s wrong?”
“Damn it. It is him.”
“Who?”
“Levin. Damn it. Scoot back a little. I don’t want him to see us.”
Shannon stepped back. She stepped back and stared at Tristan. Saw him. Saw their relationship, perhaps for the first time.
The pain racking her heart was sharp and bittersweet. There was probably anger swirling around in there somewhere as well.
Because Tristan tracked Levin’s every move and angled her deeper into the stall as his friend hove into view. Hiding her.
And she knew.
In her heart of hearts, she knew.
