Exchanging the glasses for contact lenses, and trading the sweats for a black mesh bikini top with a bow and matching bottoms, Ona swept up her swim tote and joined Regan.
“That is not a bikini,” Regan accused. “It’s sheer.”
“Not completely. The bow hides the nipples and the bottoms are solid at the crotch and booty crack.”
Scoffing, Regan insisted, “I’m only considering your welfare.”
“You said that before.”
“Last night you were on Nicholas’s lap and now you’re going to be lounging around a pool wearing that in front of him? It’s an attention-getter.”
An attention-getter... Perfect.
They’d gotten no farther than halfway down the hall before Cole Stanwyck nudged between them, securing his arms around their waists. “The two hottest women on board. I would’ve been the king of PAAC if I had the pair of you keeping my arms full. Where are you headed?”
Ever the composed, cool one, Regan gave her deep gold curls a toss. “Cole, juvenile come-ons don’t affect me.”
“That hurts, Regan. Stilts, make it up to me.”
Hesitant to linger in his company, Ona at last said, “We’re going to the lower deck.”
The walk was uneventful, meaning Cole didn’t try to stick his hand between her legs, as he’d tried to when they were seniors at PAAC. Ona hadn’t realized she was sweating until the three of them arrived at the deck. What further concerned her was that she might’ve panicked had Regan Waltz not been there to protect her in a strange, accidental way.
“If you’re going to be sitting on anybody’s lap, let it be mine,” Cole said as he escorted Ona and Regan to the doors where two crew members stood by to offer assistance. “Nicholas didn’t book you for the entire trip, did he?”
Regan snapped, “Ona has someone, Cole, and it’s not Nicholas. She has someone else and they’re having plenty of sex. So can you please stop the bullshit?”
Ona and Cole froze as Regan untangled herself from his hold and started to stalk out on the pool deck ahead of them.
“Regan, wait,” Ona tried, craning her neck to see the woman through the people cutting across her line of vision.
Regan paused to accept a rolled cool towel and a bowl of fruit from a row of pool refreshment staff. “The only reason I’m not going to a champagne pool right now is because Rajon asked everyone to show up here,” she hollered to the pair. “I’m only doing this because I respect that man more than I’ll ever respect you, Cole.”
“Repressed bitch,” he sneered at Regan’s back.
Ona pushed against him. “Let me go. I will not listen to you call her that.”
“You don’t like her, and she sure as hell doesn’t like you.”
“That’s true. I’m not going to deny it. But I didn’t come to this deck to make alliances. I came to catch up with the group. Some of us want this to be a positive experience.”
Cole snatched his arm from her waist, and because she’d been struggling against him, she stumbled at the abrupt freedom. He made no move to steady her—not that she would’ve let him, anyway. “I’m positive you’ve been experiencing Nicholas Callaghan.”
“Think what you want,” she said, scanning the deck and finding roughly half the group.
“If you’re with somebody, where is he?” Cole persisted.
Ona felt sweaty again, uncomfortably hot, but a cool towel or fruit or concoctions from the pool deck’s snazzy bar wouldn’t be of any relief. Stress sawed at her nerves, and she wanted to get away. “He’s...”
“Where, Ona?”
“He’s—” Ona’s gaze swung across the deck, and he was there. Not a made-up sex man or a man she could have a genuine relationship with, but Riker Ewan. One hand gripped a safety railing, the other held his phone, and taut muscles bulged across his arms and back. A gray T-shirt and athletic shorts today, and his dog tags were out, dangling from a simple silver chain. Sunglasses concealed his eyes, but she recognized him clearly. Her body had sensed his. “He’s there, on the phone.”
“I don’t believe you.” Cole said it calmly, as though he almost enjoyed cornering her and forcing her to face her own lies. “Admit you lied and I won’t have you embarrass yourself in front of the club.”
“Not that I owe you any explanation, Cole,” she served back, “but I’m not available, and my marine probably won’t appreciate that I’ve had to tell you so many times. You need to leave me alone.”
For effect, she crossed the deck to Riker and took his phone from his hand. Disconnecting the call, she whispered solemnly, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Riker, but I need your help.”
A frown immediately creased his face. “It’s yours. What’s wrong?”
“You told me you’re at my service. If you meant what you said yesterday about pretending to be with me, kiss me.” Ona wrapped an arm around his shoulders, because she would start trembling if she didn’t hold on to something solid. So many men in her life had assumed that just because she was tall, seemed strong, she never needed support. Would Riker give her that?
“Are you sure about this, Ona?”
“Kiss me,” she said again. “Make it good. Make it so nothing and no one else on this deck exists.”
“Put my phone in my pocket,” he said calmly in her ear, his lip moving over the shell. “My hands are going to be on you and I’m not gonna take them off until we’re done here. And he’s going to envy me. He’s going to want to have this chance with you.”
Ona nodded because it was true, technically. To be further technical, it was Cole who’d envy Riker and who’d want this chance with her. She didn’t know what Nicholas wanted.
Riker took her in stages. Large hands grasped her hips, preparing her. Eyes that were simultaneously blue as ice and gray as smoke perused her. Beautiful, warm, hungry mouth claimed hers with a sudden force that had her head snapping back and her legs collapsing.
His teeth captured her lips one at a time, and his tongue tasted her. To have his strength wrapped around her... To have his firm mouth open to hers...
No one had ever said a kiss could void all sensation but arousal. It was a lesson she had to learn for herself as he held her and grinded. Moving against her like this, he spoke to her, admitted his desire and coaxed her to admit hers.
It didn’t feel like a first kiss. It was absent of expectation and curiosity and nervousness. There was just addictive pleasure.
A throat cleared, and Ona finally lifted her mouth from his.
Beside them, Jane Charley stood in a vintage polka-dot swimsuit. A dab of Noxzema coated her nose from bridge to turned-up tip. “Sorry to interrupt, but people are staring, and someone just bet someone else that clothes would be coming off within five minutes. Ona, a sec?” Jane took her elbow, guiding her a few steps away, and Riker discreetly turned toward the wall to disguise the unquestionable stiffness she’d felt at the front of his shorts.
“Cole Stanwyck stormed off,” Jane said confidentially, her brown eyes alight with intrigue. “I think he’s feeling the effects of being such a condescending creep. No woman should spend a vacation obligated to a man like that, so I can understand your predicament. But, Ona, honey, if you had a perfect man stashed on this ship, why’d you lend yourself to Nicholas last night?”
“I didn’t lend myself, Jane. Regan and Cole and now you—you’re all acting like crazy people, judging a grown woman and a grown man for sitting together in a public casino.”
Jane shook her head. “It’s not what happened in the casino. Regan got fed up with the show you two were putting on and got out of there, but I told her Nicholas left shortly after you did. I wasn’t the only one who noticed.”
“That may be true, but when I was taking off makeup and wrapping my hair, I’m fairly sure I was by my lonesome.”
“Oh. So Nicholas did
n’t go to you?”
“No, Jane. When it comes to Nicholas, if I’m out of his sight, I’m out of his mind. Sometimes I’m out of his mind when I am in his sight. It’s always been that way.” Ona looked toward the pool and caught Regan glaring in their direction. “Regan’s not happy. According to her, I’m directly responsible for a sex machine corrupting you today. If looks could kill, I’d be dead.”
Jane arched a brow. “You’re very much alive. We’re all lucky to be.”
“Oh, my God. Matty. Why did I just say that? Why would I say that?”
“Ona, it’s okay.”
It wasn’t, but she nodded anyway.
“Smile, all right?” Jane said. “Which of us has it worse right now? I’m divorced and my friend’s angry because I went to a sex machine demonstration on an erotic ship. You were just kissing the sexiest man I’ve seen in ages. What is he, army?”
“Marine. Ex.”
“Seriously, I’d drink that guy’s piss from a cup.”
Ona’s mouth twisted. “You’re on your own for that one. I don’t really do much. Piss drinking’s under the don’t do umbrella.”
“Open your mind. It won’t hurt you.”
“Sorry, are we still talking about drinking urine, or have we moved on to opening one’s mind?”
“Ona, it’s like this. A woman has her limits. Most of these limits she’ll find herself pushing for the right person. You’d be surprised to find out what you’re willing to do for love. Or a head-to-toe orgasm.”
Right person—Riker Ewan? Not at all. They were just... He was only... “Uh, Jane, now you’re reminding me of that Meat Loaf song,” she said, throwing the conversation toward a babbling tangent to discourage Jane, “and since I still don’t know what that is, I’m probably going to become fixated on analyzing the lyrics and the video—”
“As much as I’d love to go on that journey with you, Ona, I should get back. They’re saving me a spot at the shallow end. All Rajon had to do was ask and the guest services people reserved the entire pool for us. Cocktails are forthcoming. Your man’s welcome. A marine. Oooh, so down-to-earth.” Jane flaunted a smile brighter than the Noxzema on her nose and flounced to the PAAC gang that had massed at the pool. Detecting Jane harbored information, Regan, in her diamonds and designer swimsuit, navigated the pool as determined and dangerous as a shark, and the two began to whisper-gossip the way they had when they’d ruled the halls in school.
Riker appeared beside her. “I didn’t go to my high school reunion, but something’s telling me if I had, I wouldn’t have seen so many frowning people.”
“Guest Services gave us the pool for the afternoon. Free drinks are on the horizon. Still, they’re angry to be on this ship.”
“I know anger, and this ain’t it. Those people aren’t angry.”
“Then what are they? I spent four years with them and think I’m a decent judge of character, but please, go ahead and tell me what you think they are.”
“Calculating. Stressed. Confused. All that’s got more to do with real life than it does with the cruise itself.”
Was he aware that he’d just described Ona, too? Yesterday she’d made up her mind to put real life on hold for the duration of the trip. She couldn’t allow a shabby time at a casino and some silly gossip to burn her resolve. She’d do bold things—even bolder than showing off her fanny—and say what blossomed in her mind. With Riker, she could. He didn’t know that among her collection of failures was the only one she’d succeeded in: letting people use her. But he’d said he didn’t need to know her to understand her. He accepted her as she was.
“Hey,” he said. “You still have my phone.”
“Oops.” She handed it back and shared her cell number. “Put me in your contacts list. We can talk about old-school TV. Maybe we can search this place for a restaurant that’ll make some plain, messy American food and... I don’t know...we can share a Philly cheesesteak.”
“No.”
No? “I... No, it’s perfectly okay. I misread this—”
“Hey, Ona? I meant no to sharing a Philly cheesesteak. You don’t share a good cheesesteak sandwich. So we’re gonna get two.”
Ona laughed, stunned at his ability to sink her then bring her back up sky-high again. She needed to steal back her equilibrium. Moving her lips over his, she said, “While I’m catching up with all these calculating, stressed and confused people, you might want to get that tent in your shorts under control.”
“I can manage.”
“What if I said I wanted to manage it for you?”
“Ona... I thought you had your eye on Saint Nick.”
“I did. I still do. I’m not asking for a relationship, Riker. In fact, I was mulling tracking you down to tell you how wrong you were about me deserving to grieve my friend. Truth is, last night I did something I regret and I wasn’t feeling good about myself until the bacon and French toast.”
“I’m not following you.”
“Don’t follow. Stay beside me. It’ll all make sense in a second. I haven’t gotten anywhere with Nicholas. He still looks right through me. There’s another man, Cole. He’s not the world’s most respectful guy. I want him to back off. That’s why I came to you and asked you to kiss me.”
“Pick the asshole out of the lineup.”
“Cole’s not out here. Jane said he saw us together and split.” She folded her hands over his shoulders. As long as she could touch him, she’d know that she had something strong to count on. “You were here, right here, exactly when I needed you. Meant to be. What is that?”
“I heard somebody call it fate before.”
“Fate and I are going to be friends if it’s got my back like that.” Ona raked down her hair as a surge of wind stirred it. After a few moments of combating the breeze, she gave up the fight. “Why are you watching me?”
As his hands cradled her face, she thought that he might kiss her again. But his fingers moved up to rake her wind-tossed bangs back. “Nice forehead. I want to ask you something. Take it as a stupid guy question or a stupid white guy question if you want, but give me a straight answer. What do you do to it—your hair?”
Ona’s eyes bugged. Was that why he’d run his fingers through it? To see if he’d find tracks? “Did you touch my hair to find out if I’m wearing a weave?”
“No. I touched you because I feel good when I do. The question remains, though. What do you do to it?”
“To get the kink out, you mean? This is the ‘ethnic hair talk.’ I’m not having the ethnic hair talk with you. No man, except my salon-boyfriend in New York, has come near the ethnic hair talk.”
Riker splayed his fingers and slowly dragged his hands through from roots to tips. “No wonder you’re not with any of them now. This is how I want to understand you. I want to know what you look like when no one’s around to judge you.”
Curly haired, bespectacled and usually wearing clothes made from practical cotton. “Riker, that’s not part of our arrangement. That kiss was part of the arrangement. Not this discussion.”
“It is. That kiss was a sample of how I’d handle you if you were mine. That’s what I demand from you. Give me what I give you. Handle me, Ona, ’cause I’m sure as hell gonna handle you. If we’re making this look real for them, I want something real from you.”
“Are we fighting? I feel that we’re fighting.”
Stroking her bare back, he kissed her, then he wound the tails of her bikini top’s bow around his hand. “I’m challenging you, Ona. Ask yourself when was the last time a man looked at you long enough to decide you were worth challenging, then find me when your mind’s made up. Tell me we can be real with each other, or tell me to go to hell. Just make up your mind about it.”
When they parted, Ona pressed her hands to her chest, offering protection to her racing heart. A
s she watched him stride away, her periphery captured a broad-shouldered figure standing a short distance away.
Nicholas. And he was watching her. Really, for the first time, focusing on her.
Ona hesitantly lifted a hand to wave, and when he acknowledged her with a smile, she thought, I’ll be damned. All it takes is a boy playing with a toy to make another boy realize he wants the toy.
Not again. Not again was she reducing herself for Nicholas Callaghan’s benefit. With Riker she was a woman and with Nicholas a toy?
There was history and promise with Nick. With Riker, there was only fantasy that they both knew would burn itself out. It was a flame clinging to a candle’s wick. He was Boston, she was Philly.
Funny, that never seemed to matter an iota when they were in each other’s vicinity.
“PAAC brats, front and center!” Rajon Sneed called as his wife, Kimora, maneuvered his wheelchair close to the pool and two bartenders bearing serving trays put a brandy cocktail in every hand.
Ona took her drink but stood on the border, part of the group but not totally in the group. She didn’t want an in-depth “What have you been up to these past ten years?” conversation, because she wasn’t in a mood to lie about not performing on Broadway because she’d grown bored with singing, or lie about not belonging to an advertising firm because she was such a hot commodity that no firm could afford her, or lie about her torrid relationship with an ex-marine.
“Everybody got a glass?” Rajon asked, holding up a bottle of brandy. As the PAAC brats, sans Cole, assembled, other guests sharing the deck had begun to look up from their tablets and pluck out their earbuds. Now they didn’t try to mask their curiosity. “All right, I’m pouring one out. For Matthew Grillo.”
Touched by his kindness, Ona watched Rajon turn the brandy bottle and splash the exquisite deck. Silence circled the pool, and she felt herself edging closer to the others before she realized what she might do. She closed her eyes. Then a poignant Sinéad O’Connor pop ballad began to fall from her lips.
Her voice sounded small, broken to her own ears, but this wasn’t about performance. It was about conveying a message to the others and to herself and to her good friend who wasn’t here.
Blissful Summer: Make You Mine AgainUnraveled Page 14
