by Shannyn Leah
Brock and Tom laughed.
“You deserved it, boy,” Tom said. “There are plenty of intelligent women that you cross paths with.”
“If you like stuck-up, entitled princesses.” Grayson reached out and caught his aunt’s elbow this time.
Linda shook her head at him. “Some could say the same about you.”
“Some do.” Grayson winked at his aunt and received another shake of her head. He pulled her against his side, and she settled with her head below his shoulder. “What are you doing here? On a cruise? On the water? For three weeks?”
“To visit you, of course. It seems I can’t get an appointment with you on shore, so I thought what better way than a secluded cruise.”
Grayson slanted her a suspicious look. “We have dinner at least three times a week,” he said. “Plus you stop daily by my office. Daily, as in once a day, minimum, and generally with a boatload of questions I don’t even know where you come up with half.”
She waved off his truth. “I know the definition of daily. But it’s not the same as the one-on-one social time we will get on this cruise.”
“Uh-huh.” Grayson didn’t believe her. Something was going on, but he wasn’t one to pry. Cohens didn’t meddle and snoop. Whatever it was, extended to Brock and Tom. The three of them had been sneaking around, whispering when they thought no one was looking, and now Linda was on board. Suspicious. It would reveal itself with time. Maybe it was about Linda’s new beau, which gave Grayson the urge to make a few calls now.
“Has anyone seen our guests of honor?” Brock asked, ever the sly topic changer.
“Yet to have the pleasure, but we will be dining with them tonight,” Tom said.
“That’s wonderful. Emma is a doll,” Linda said. “She’s the type of woman you need to find and settle down with. Smart, intelligent, and kind. Such rare qualities to find now a days, and she has the sweetest personality.” She nudged Grayson. “And, I don’t want to hear you say one mean thing about her.”
“I have nothing bad to say about Emma,” Grayson assured her. “But, since you brought it up, don’t you think it’s odd she hasn’t settled down yet?” He lowered his voice for only his group of four to hear. “There’s got to be something about her we don’t know,” he said. “Maybe she’s full of herself, or too prickly, cold, too good for anyone...”
His family stared at him, solemn where usually laughter would transpire, or at the least a gut jab, shoulder slap or a swat across the back of the head, depending on their reach. Right now, they just stared.
“What is it with you three?” Grayson asked. “You’ve all been acting weird for weeks.”
They said nothing.
Grayson pointed between them. “You see here, this is a little bit weird. I feel like a kid and you’re all harboring something from me. It’s like the year I discovered Santa wasn’t real.”
They burst out into awkward laughter, looking away and sipping their drinks. Suspicious.
Grayson spotted Emma again, alone at the bar. “I think one of our guests of honor has caught my attention, and I might go over and say hi. Maybe dig into the grounds of her single status.”
Not even a smirk.
“It’s a joke,” Grayson clarified.
He kissed his aunts cheek and slapped the men as he walked past. Strange.
Emma sat at the bar, legs crossed, hiking her short dress even more up her silky thigh. Her backside was as nice a view as her front side. Damn, she wore that dress like trouble.
His body shivered with appreciation of the dress outlining each curve he didn’t even know she had.
Grayson inhaled sharply at the feelings that washed over him. She was stirring the hellion in him like no other woman had before.
He could have slipped onto the stool beside her, on his best behavior, and commented on her missing iPad−she was such a book nerd−but, that would be absolutely no fun.
Grayson leaned into her exposed ear, noting the diamond waterfall earrings dangling from her delicate earlobe. At the same time, he grazed his knuckles over her silky shoulder and a shudder of desire erupted through him. His tongue darted across his lips and he had to swallow hard before speaking.
“Is this electrifying outfit just for me?” His sultry whisper was intended to make her still. She rewarded him with even more a sharp intake that lifted and stilled her voluptuous breasts up against her sweetheart neckline. He’d caught her aroma too: sweet summer with a mixture of beachy seashore and feminine sex appeal. Only, he was sly enough not to let her know it.
Grayson lingered at her side, a little longer than appropriate, before slipping into the seat beside her. He was fully aware his family’s eyes had unquestionably followed his trail to Emma. Her long legs were twisted sideways making it easy to slip onto the stool and catch them between his legs.
The shades of red that touched her face were the exact reaction he was going for, but she managed to keep her cool...was coolness what chased away her suitors?
Emma watched him, with big blue eyes, the color of the deep sea and shading darker the longer she silently stared. She sipped her pink cocktail, licking her full red lips when she finished.
He’d never seen her lips look so pouty and so kissable. Kissable? Maybe the question wasn’t what was wrong with his family, but, instead, what was wrong with him?
“It amazes me how you can make every little thing about you,” Emma said smoothly, her voice drawing his eyes back to hers.
“Sweetheart, every little thing usually is about me.”
It sounded conceited, and he especially enjoyed playing the part with her. Emma was indisputably cringing inside. If he hadn’t cornered her, she would have slipped as far away from him as possible, but only after uttering her own jab at him. He wanted to see how many shades of embarrassment he could pull from this woman. Would the color be as deep as her dress or her luscious lips? Three weeks of ruffling Emma’s feathers was sounding better by the second.
“Wow.” Emma didn’t seem impressed by his dense sense of humor. “You have the only child syndrome,” she said.
Grayson set his empty glass down and waved at the bar tender for a refill. “What exactly does the only child syndrome entail?” he asked.
Her eyes darted down to their legs. One of his had made its way directly against the warm heat penetrating from her leg. When she looked back at his face, he swore he saw a flicker of desire behind those eyes, but it was gone too quick to tell.
“The all-about-me attitude you walk around with, mixed with your arrogance, like a filthy rag that needs a good cleaning.”
Grayson roared with laughter. No woman could make him laugh like Emma could.
Emma’s eyes drew together. “That wasn’t a compliment,” she said dryly, and that made it all the more amusing.
“I guess it depends on how you look at it.”
“You and I definitely visualize it differently.” Emma sipped her drink.
So prickly.
“I pegged you for middle child syndrome,” Grayson said.
He loved the way she sucked in an annoyed breath, like she’d thought she was getting rid of him that easily.
“Stuck smack-dab in the middle of all your siblings. Sort of just lingering there in the background, not making a splash, not drawing attention, in your own world...”
He could tell from the pinched together lips that Emma didn’t like his assessment, but she still remained calm. What would happen if he spiced it up a bit?
He leaned forward, his knuckles grazing her bare knee. He couldn’t get enough of touching her this evening.
“Until tonight...” The words came out in a low drawl, which most women would take as an opening straight onto his lap. Like the waitress from earlier, who now, slammed his drink on the counter with more force than necessary.
Emma wasn’t like most women. She slapped his hand away, deflating the waitress’s jealousy.
“Touch it again and I’ll break your fingers,” she warned.
Grayson only chuckled and sat back up. “Not sure what to do when a good looking guy gives you a compliment?”
Emma shook her head with a sigh. “See what you did there? Twisting that around to be all about you.”
Grayson’s eyebrows arched in question. “It was about me darlin’. Me giving you a compliment in the midst of hitting on you and an offer most women don’t refuse.”
It was Emma’s turn to laugh. She dropped her head back as the whole-hearted, sweet noise of her amusement spilled out, over the sounds of glasses clinking and orders being barked out.
The heat rushed down below again. Did she really not feel it? She acted less interested in him then a spayed cat, but he knew they would be electric in bed. And bed was where it would start and finish.
What was Emma after? Was she a marry and settle down type, searching for the man who offered her all the things Grayson couldn’t? Did that man actually even exist? That’s what she appeared to be doing, but why wasn’t she settled down yet? She was a Caliendo and surely there were enough men lined up for her to choose from, yet she remained single.
Emma sighed as her laughter subdued. “Was that what you were doing? Hitting on me?”
“Don’t you feel the tension? The pull of desire between us?”
Emma didn’t even flinch. “I feel my legs tightly crossed between us.”
He sucked a breath in between his teeth. “Ouch.”
“You asked for it.”
“I suppose I did. Let me buy you another drink.”
“Don’t you worry that cute little head of yours, darlin’...” She rubbed his leg this time. “...your dad has me covered.” She gave him a wink he would have enjoyed more if that feeling of deceit hadn’t crept up and stroked its chilly fingers across his insides. Even being aware Brock would have set the Caliendo women up with a tab on him, there could be so much more to her meaning...was there?
Grayson ordered her another drink, regardless, ignoring his own jealous curiosity, similar to the resentment consuming the waitress.
“Thanks,” Emma said when her drink arrived. It landed softer on the counter. “Are you planning on trapping me here all evening?”
It didn’t sound like a bad idea to him.
“I have a dinner date with potential clients and their self-absorbed son, slash nephew.”
He couldn’t help but chuckle at her reference to him.
“Any advice on how to keep this arrogant, narcissistic, rather conceited man, from making a complete ass of himself? How embarrassing would it be for him to hit on me when I am clearly not interested in a one-time fling with him?”
They needed to get under the sheets together, or at the least find the closest elevator.
Grayson slowly spun his stool, his leg taking her legs with him, spinning them to face the room.
He leaned toward her and placed his hand on the small of her back.
“I probably would go change into something that doesn’t scream, take me.”
With her appalled gasp, he kissed her cheek and slipped off the stool, leaving her to stew in that.
Grayson was going to make a point to sit directly beside her at the dinner table and bump elbows all night long.
Chapter Three
TAKE ME.
What an egotistical jerk and he made her lose her bet with Melissa. What women found appealing about this man, besides his good looks and mountain of muscles, was beyond her. He was agitating and her skin tingled with irritation...but that could also be the dress cutting off her blood flow.
Heading back to the girls now, Melissa’s words chimed in her head: He will scope you out.
Emma’s walking slowed.
He had scoped her out, only to irritate her. Still, she was left wondering why he scoped her out in the first place. To treat her like the nobody, the nerdy girl next door...the middle child...he thought she was? Emma cringed at his assessment, wondering why something so minimal, like his opinion of her, bothered her.
Lord, he was infuriating, but handsome...and smelled like deliciousness that any single woman would want to breathe in as much as actual air itself. She was a fool for letting him get to her, both on a scale of loathing and...desire.
Desire? Where had that come from?
The swirl in her stomach, and warming under her skirt, were the foolish feelings he used as weapons against women.
“I win,” Melissa said, coming out of nowhere at a smooth pace, and looping her arm through Emma’s.
“He was ordering a drink,” Emma lied. “Hardly counts as scoping me out.”
“From my view, I sense a three-week fling.”
“I think your view is misguided. You two are better suited for each other. You’re both so self absorbed.”
Melissa laughed at the insult, reminding Emma of Grayson’s reaction, which only made part of her wonder if Grayson had a softer side to him, like the one Melissa hid.
“You’re too kind,” Melissa said. “But Grayson doesn’t have eyes for me.”
“He doesn’t have eyes for me.”
“He only has eyes for you.”
Emma stopped and faced Melissa. “We can’t stand each other. I mean, literally, he makes me want to punch him in the face, and I don’t believe in violence.”
Melissa sucked in a quick breath. “The tension.”
“No. It’s called hatred and I don’t believe in that either.”
“Imagine the heated sex.”
“Stop it.”
“You owe me all the juicy details about Corbin,” Melissa said.
Why was Melissa so interested in her brother? Emma was more concerned about Melissa’s up and down moods lately, and gravely disappointed Grayson had spoiled her chances of finding out...if Melissa had decided to actually share when push came to shove.
They found Izzy and Abby standing with the Cohen family.
How delightful.
There was no mistaking Brock and Tom were brothers. Izzy’s term, “silver fox”, came to mind as Emma took in their heightened six-foot tall, broad shoulders, full heads of wavy grey hair, and smiles that melted even the most stubborn woman’s morals.
Emma didn’t like how the thought of a strong woman’s morals being challenged by a Cohen bothered her, like she might fall prey to a Cohen...more specifically the cocky, grinning Grayson, standing with his arm lovingly around his aunt’s shoulder, looking all charming, and innocently sweet.
He was gorgeous. A younger version of Brock and Tom, but his face was his own. His straight lines more chiseled, and his nose wasn’t symmetrical, which only added beauty, not to mention those eyes. The green gems were melt-your-toes beautiful, flecked with specks of gold pulled from the color of his tanned skin. That didn’t even cover the fact that he was the most robust person Emma had ever seen in her entire life. Thanks to his half naked advertisement she couldn’t get Grayson out of her head. He was ripped beyond what body builders aspired to and he knew how to use all of it to his advantage.
Linda had no idea who the darling little nephew she doted upon really was. As Emma’s eyes found Brock and Tom again, she retracted that thought. Everyone knew the intentions behind these three men.
“There’s Casey and Micah now.” Brock waved his hands, calling over the journalists writing the article for the Leisurely Travel magazine.
The younger couple looked overwhelmed by the atmosphere. Casey, a curly red head, peered through her red-rimmed glasses, clutching an iPad against her black dress and shyly smiled at the group.
“Mr. Cohen, it’s a pleasure to be on your cruise,” Casey said, extending her hand.
“Please, call me Brock.” He made the rounds, introducing everyone, and finished with Micah. Around his early-twenties, the same age as Casey, Micah wore his long hair pulled into a messy bun on top of his head, which distractedly bounced with his nods and movement. His black dress shirt had three buttons undone at the top, showing a rock band t-shirt underneath.
“Micah, take a picture o
f all of us,” Brock said.
Emma inwardly flinched.
Let the games begin.
They’d passed a white backdrop at the entrance of the restaurant stamped with “Cohen Cruise Line” and “Caliendo Resorts” which Brock led them back to and Micah positioned them for the photo.
Emma smiled politely, all the while her stomach was roiling. These set-up photos weren’t her thing, and most of the time she could easily skip out of them, but not this trip. She was forced to pose and smile.
She found herself conveniently standing at Grayson’s side and she felt him slip his arm around her waist. Instant heat. Instant shiver. Instant desire for him to touch her more.
Crazy was what this feeling was. Head-stupid.
When Emma glanced at him, he was watching her, as if waiting for her reaction. His white smile was to die for and he gave her a quick wink before focusing on Micah. A wink that sent her stomach fluttering.
This was going to be a long night.
GRAYSON HAD THE UNFORTUNATE fate of sitting across from Emma during supper, instead of beside her like he’d intended. She’d made sure of that, wedging herself between Melissa and Izzy. He supposed there were worse things than sitting where his eyes could easily linger on her face as long as he pleased, without appearing stalker-like. Funny, because usually the stalking was for him, not vice versa.
He’d enjoyed playing a long round of endless footsies with Emma. Enjoying more, the engaging moments of glares, jumps and forced smiles. On one occasion, Emma had jammed her heel into his foot and the roles reversed as he jumped, glared and forced a smile. Never a dull moment with this woman.
After supper, the table mingled for after-dinner cocktails and Grayson, once again, found himself looking for Emma.
He wouldn’t have been surprised if she had ducked out for the night, but then he spotted her. Alone, as if waiting for him. He didn’t want to disappoint.
“And here she is...hiding away from the crowd,” Grayson whispered in her hair as he walked behind her and slipped onto the chaise next to her.
Emma didn’t even look at him. “My feet are tired,” she said.
