Docked

by Wade, Rachael

“Well, we arrive in Nassau at 9 a.m. I hope you ladies take advantage of the sights.”

  “I’m sure we will.”

  “In the afternoon, if you can spare the time, I’d love it if you’d swing by my office. Perhaps for an interview, of sorts? For your magazine feature.”

  “Oh, I’d love to, but…I really should leave that up to Lana, since it’s her feature. I’m here to help with supplemental research and to chat with some of the guests.”

  Tanner’s chin lifts slightly and he straightens his shoulders, taking a step forward. He casually clasps his hands in front of him, adjusting his stance in front of me. Each ridge of his abdomen ripples with the movement.

  I swallow.

  “What could be better than chatting with the owner of the cruise line?”

  “Well, I don’t know, I guess—”

  “You should come by. My office is on Deck 10, Forward. Just let Heidi know I’m expecting you. She’s my receptionist.”

  “I’ll speak to Lana about it. Thanks for the offer.”

  He purses his lips, and I can see the cogs in his mind turn, but he doesn’t comment. Finally, he settles on formality. “It’s my pleasure, Miss Banks. I look forward to seeing you.” He begins to jog off, pivoting on a hip to call out to me over his shoulder. “Please be careful out here. If you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me or the staff know.”

  “Thanks,” I reply with a light wave. He nods and returns his focus forward, sticking his earbuds back in his ears. He runs off into the night, down the deck, until he disappears around the corner, and I’m left alone with the wind and the crashing of the ocean waves as they beat the side of the ship.

  THREE

  The next morning is a blur. I’m harassed with pillows being chucked at my head until Lana successfully lures me out of bed, and then I’m whisked off the ship to visit the Nassau straw market. We spend most of the morning milling around, playing the ultimate tourists, and eventually make our way back onto the ship in time for lunch. Lana goes on and on about how bad she felt for ditching me at the Bordeaux Room last night, asking me where I sneaked off to. I tell her it didn’t bother me in the least, and that I took a stroll on the jogging deck. When I get to the part about running into Mr. Blue Eyes, she perks up with interest, practically drooling for details.

  “Please tell me you lured him back to the stateroom and seduced him,” she says deviously, gripping my shoulder as we enter our room.

  “What?” I laugh, unlocking the door. “Lan, you have such a one-tracked mind.”

  “When we’re talking about Mr. I-Own-The-Cruise-Ship Christensen, hell yes, I do! And I am not ashamed, babe. He’s sinfully sexy. You should do him.”

  “Lana!”

  Her eyes bulge at the tone of my voice. “You’re only freaking out because you know I’m right.”

  “We’re reviewing the cruise liner.”

  “So?”

  “His cruise liner.”

  “Still not gettin’ it.”

  I sigh and drop my purse on the edge of the bed, slumping onto the mattress. “He might be sinfully sexy, but that’s like…like sleeping with our boss.”

  “It’s nothing like sleeping with our boss. Girl, what have you been smokin’?”

  “Forget it.”

  “No.” Lana thrusts her hip to the right and crosses her arms as she plants herself in front of me. She stares down with narrowed eyes and kicks out her ankle to nudge my shin. Her red hair is especially fiery today. “What is with you?”

  “What do you mean, what’s with me?”

  “Why are you so determined to put the lock-down on bringing the sexy back?”

  “Lan, will you please not speak in Justin Timberlake?”

  She sighs dramatically and drops her hands to her sides. “I want this cruise to help you move on from Jeremiah.”

  “I’m over Jeremiah. You’re acting like he broke my heart and shattered it into a million pieces. He was just a fling.”

  “An eight-month-long fling.”

  “So?”

  “So, you obviously had some feelings for him, even if they didn’t run very deep.”

  “It was nothing serious. Jeremiah’s history.”

  “I get that, An. I do. But you got comfortable. And what you had with him was so…”

  “So what?” I raise a brow and deliver a warning glare. She really isn’t one to dole out judgment of relationships, considering all she put up with when it came to Matt Jenkins. But I know she loves me, and that deep down, she really thinks she’s helping.

  “Mediocre. You settled. And now you’re in a funk.”

  “I’m not in a funk.”

  “Um, yeah. Yeah, you are. And as your best friend in the whole world, it’s my sole duty to get you back on the horse. Or in this case, back on your back.”

  I fling a pillow at her.

  “And then there’s the whole drowning thing…”

  “Don’t go there. Please.”

  “I know you don’t like talking about it, but what better time is there to confront it?”

  “I am confronting it by being here.”

  “Fine. I won’t push it.”

  “Good.”

  “But I will push you right into Christensen’s bed, if that’s what it takes.”

  I flop back onto the mattress with a sigh. “I saw him with some brunette yesterday. In the hallway.”

  “So?”

  “He was about to…”

  “About to what?” Lana lunges forward to the edge of the bed to hang over me, bursting at the seams with burning curiosity.

  “He was about to screw her. Right there, in public.”

  “No effing way!” She gasps and hops onto the bed, bending down to shake my shoulders. “Why didn’t he?”

  “Because I crashed their party.”

  “Oh my God, that’s so hot.”

  “Yeah, well. Was. Before I ruined their fun.”

  “Okay, now I’m certain of it.” Lana stops shaking me and slides off the bed, hopping back to her feet.

  “Sure of what?”

  “You positively have to sleep with him.”

  “And how do you figure that?”

  “Any man that would take a woman like that in broad daylight, in a public place, is a man who knows exactly what he wants. You need that—a man with guts.”

  “Did you not just hear what I said?”

  “Anya.”

  “He’s clearly involved with someone else. Or maybe a few someone elses, I don’t know. He said she wasn’t his girlfriend.”

  “He told you that?”

  “It came up in conversation.”

  “Then he just gave you a massive green light!”

  “You’re crazy.”

  “I speak the truth. He wouldn’t have told you that if he didn’t want you to know he wasn’t taken.”

  “Whatever. Do you promise to stay out of this? No meddling, I mean it.”

  “Ha!” Lana puckers her lips and blows me a kiss, then turns for the bathroom. “I will promise no such thing.” She slams the door and I stomp my foot like a three-year-old.

  It is not a proud moment.

  “I have to go out,” I call out after taking a deep breath. “I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

  “Where’re you going?” Lana asks from behind the bathroom door.

  “I have some business to take care of. I’ll be back in time for dinner.”

  “Okay, fine. Have fun!”

  “See ya.” I snatch up my bag and stop in front of the dresser to check my hair and make-up. I look entirely nautical today, in an ivory boatneck sweater and a navy pencil skirt, complete with red and navy striped scarf and cream heels. My brown hair is down and styled in its natural waves, and my eyes and cheeks are bright. Hopefully this is casual yet sophisticated enough for my little business meeting. Forget running it by Lana. That will only encourage her.

  A light, sweet aroma greets me when I step off the elevator onto Deck 10 Aft. Like fre
shly baked sugar cookies. Whatever it is, it’s heavenly. I stroll forward through an elaborate set of golden-arched doors and come face to face with a young, elegant woman in black, trendy glasses.

  “Hello,” she says, smiling up at me sweetly. She sits behind a wide, spacious desk with three telephones and three different computer screens. Good Lord, what kind of security fortress is this? “How can I help you?”

  “Hi, I’m here to see Mr. Christensen. He told me to ask for Heidi and to let her know he was expecting me.” I extend a hand over the desktop and give the woman a cordial shake. “My name’s Anya Banks and I’m with Four Corners Elite.”

  “Ah yes, Miss Banks. I’m Heidi. Mr. Christensen mentioned you might be coming by. He’s actually out at the moment, but he should be back shortly. Please take a seat in his office and he’ll be right with you.” She smiles politely and points to the double doors to the left. I quickly thank her and retreat through the doors, knowing Lana would be cheering me on if she were here to see this. I’m not sure what compels me forward, what brings me to accept Tanner’s invitation, but my curiosity sizzles. The fodder for Lana’s feature resides behind these doors, and I’m determined to dig up the dirt.

  The doors click behind me as I shut myself into the office. The room feels more like a library, with floor-to-ceiling shelving that wraps around the entire space. The shelves match the desk, a regal and rich chestnut brown wood with ornate, beveled edges. The view that lies just beyond the desk is astonishing. Wide, clear picture windows curve around, framing the office in a bright blue backdrop, where the sky meets the ocean. A tall-back leather swivel chair faces outward, toward the spectacular view, and I can’t help but wonder what it must be like to sit there day after day, staring out, knowing you own this ship. Feeling like you own the sea itself.

  I set my bag down on one of the chairs and veer around the desk, admiring the set-up. The chair taunts me. I glance at the double doors. My body swiftly melds into the leather as I give in, resting my forearms on the plush armrests. I tilt my head back and cross my legs, inhaling deeply. I throw another glance at the double doors and wait, hearing nothing but the sound of a phone ringing from the other side. I pivot and roll the chair up to the desk, feeding my tingling curiosity.

  How is it possible that this young, successful businessman was once afraid of what he now owns?

  My fingers tap the edge of the desk and in seconds, I’m overwhelmed by the sight before me. Sticky notes are everywhere—on the lamp, on the phone, even on the penholder. Piles of paperwork are stacked on top of each other, covering the entire desktop. I’m not sure I can even see the desktop, let alone find a single pen or notepad. The phone cord is tangled with the lamp cord, and it dawns on me that not one single picture frame or anything personal sits on the desk.

  I can’t stop myself.

  I lean forward and begin straightening the mess, color coding the sticky notes and snatching up spare paperclips to help sort the disarray. I’ve no idea what I’m doing, and there’s a good chance I’m ruining some kind of organized chaos here, but the urge to fix it is just too great. If there’s anything I’m used to doing back at the office, it’s organizing Lana’s messes.

  Five minutes pass and I’m done with the desk, and there’s still no sign of Mr. Christensen. I sigh and lean back, sinking into the chair, and cross my legs again, spinning around to face the windows. I raise my arms and cup them behind my head, jumping when the door shuts behind me. I feel my back straighten as my hands grasp the armrests. I slowly swivel around and am blasted by a very shocked, blue-eyed gaze.

  I rise from the chair and clear my throat, smoothing out my skirt.

  “You’re in my chair.”

  “I was.”

  “You…you cleaned.” Tanner’s gaze drops to the desk, scanning the now-neat clutter.

  “More like organized.” A nervous laugh flutters out and I step around the desk to make my way to the opposite seat. His jaw is slack as he stares at where I just sat, as if I had the audacity to sit on his royal throne.

  I kind of did.

  “I didn’t mean to pry. I sort of…fix things. I’m a fixer. Lana plans, I strategize.” I wave my hands awkwardly from side to side, and I think Tanner is still in shock, because he hasn’t blinked.

  “My notes are color coordinated.” He hones in on the sticky notes and I give a little shrug.

  “They were horrid. I had to do it.”

  His eyes bounce toward me, watching me warily. “My sticky notes were horrid?”

  “They were giving me a headache.”

  A hint of humor flickers over his face, but he remains stoic. “A bit compulsive, are we?”

  “Neurotic writer.”

  He grabs at the top of his tie—another baby blue one, this one with a diamond pattern—and runs his hand down it slowly. I’m mesmerized by the fluid way his fingers graze the silk. “I take it you enjoy the view?”

  I press my lips together and join my hands behind my back, unsure whether to take a seat. “Um, yes. Definitely enjoy the view.” I gulp quietly as he moves to slip out of his suit jacket. His gaze doesn’t leave mine as he carefully folds it and places it on the edge of the desk. Dear God, there’s something inherently sexy about a man in a suit, especially one who knows how to own it.

  “I’m glad you came. Lana approves, I presume?”

  “I didn’t speak to her about it, actually.”

  “Oh?” He points to the seat where I stand and I inwardly sigh in relief, planting myself in the chair. Tanner brushes by me and I catch a whiff of that mint scent of his, wishing I hadn’t touched his damn sticky notes.

  “After running into you last night, I decided I have some questions for you myself.”

  “Would you like something to drink?” He walks around to his throne and gestures to the small bar to the left, along the windowsill. I decline and he pours himself one, then settles into the leather chair. His broad shoulders stretch and he fixes his gaze on me. “I’ll answer your questions to the best of my ability, Miss Banks. Shoot.”

  I shift a bit in my seat and exhale. I’m not sure what to make of his mood. I see we’re back to a last name basis today. “Well, for starters,” I reach for my bag and grab my notepad, “I’d really love to know why you were afraid of the ocean and what brought you here.” My arms sweep out, gesturing to his grand domain. “To this.”

  A bout of silence stretches between us and he leans forward to rest his arms on the desk. “I’m sorry to say that topic isn’t up for discussion. What else would you like to know?”

  I freeze. “Not up for discussion? But you brought it up earlier.”

  “It’s personal. I’m sure you understand.”

  “Surely you’ve been asked this before, Mr. Christensen.”

  His brows rise.

  “I think it’s quite relevant to your position as owner of this ship, don’t you?”

  “It may be relevant, but it’s also personal and I choose not to comment. It’s as simple as that.”

  My teeth dig into my bottom lip and fingers tighten around the pen. “Does that mean all of your personal details are off limits? Our personal lives intertwine with our professional lives, wouldn’t you say? I believe it’s a fair question.”

  “Are you a travel writer or a reporter?”

  “Just yesterday you said—”

  “I invited you here to learn about my ship.”

  “I’m trying to learn about your ship.”

  “What would you like to know about my personal life, Miss Banks?” He holds my gaze and lifts his glass to his lips, sipping slowly. Everything in the room has gone cold, and I’m not sure why. Either I struck a serious chord by asking him a simple question, or this man is really possessive of his sticky notes.

  “You seem very involved in the running of your ship. Does your frequent traveling interfere with your life on shore? Do you have a family? Are you married?” I blanch at my own questions for a moment, squeezing my eyes shut when I recall
the brunette in the hallway. A quiet chuckle emanates from across the desk, and I peel my eyes open. “I’m really on a roll, aren’t I?”

  “I think the fact that I’m not married has already been established.”

  “And you don’t date.”

  A trace of a smile lingers on his lips. “Funny, I thought your friend Lana was the forward one.”

  “She must be rubbing off on me.” I wince and shut my notebook when I realize I haven’t written a single word. Hell, I’ve made no progress whatsoever, and if I keep going at this rate, I’ll either annoy or bore this man to tears.

  “I’ll answer your question, Miss Banks.”

  “Anya.”

  “I don’t date, Anya, and marriage isn’t in my future. I play.” His arms slide off the edge of the desk and he pushes back into the chair, that ghost of a grin still playing on his lips. I stop breathing. A quiet gulp punctuates the room’s silence before I find my breath. I’m afraid to ask.

  “Define play.”

  “Do you really need a definition?”

  “No.” I stand swiftly and turn to eye the wall’s shelves, scanning the rows and rows of books. “I suppose not.”

  His chair squeaks and there’s a quiet rustle behind me. Every part of me is hyperaware of his movement as he approaches, that cool mint scent drifting over my shoulder. His voice is suddenly very close. Soft and patient. “What else would you like to know?”

  “Do you like to read?” I glance back at him and gesture to the books in front of us. “This collection is impressive.”

  “No.” His jaw flexes as he eyes the books. “They were my father’s.”

  “Was this your father’s office?”

  “This was his ship.”

  I turn all the way around to face him, surprise compelling my movement. “No wonder.”

  “No wonder?”

  “You’re so…”

  His head tilts slightly and he waits, watching with interest.

  “Young.”

  “The ship’s been revamped since I’ve taken over. This is all that remains of my father.” He nods to the shelves, breaking eye contact.

  “Tanner,” I say his first name for the first time today, and it catches his attention. He returns his gaze to mine and stills. “Forgive me for being forward, but when you first introduced yourself to Lana and me, you said honesty was refreshing. If you really believe that, then maybe you can appreciate my persistence. I’d really like to know why you were afraid of the water—and why you aren’t anymore. It’s what I came here to ask you and I believe it will make a great angle for the feature.”