 
# Resonating Souls

# Bermuda Nights

## Book One

# Ophelia Sikes

Copyright © 2014 by Ophelia Sikes

Minerva Webworks LLC

All rights reserved.

Cover design by Ophelia Sikes.

Book design by Ophelia Sikes

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No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, and events are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

First Printing: January 2014

\- 8 –

SmashWords Edition

Half of all proceeds from this book benefits battered women's shelters.

Follow your heart.

Resonating Souls

# Chapter 1

Whatever our souls are made of,

His and mine are the same.

\-- Emily Brontë

The gleaming white cruise ship shone beneath the brilliant October sky, its length enormous, sleek, bursting with intrigue and promises of delight. Kayla turned at my side, her long, blonde hair swirling with her movement. Her hot-pink lips curved into a smile.

"Here we go, Amanda. What happens in Bermuda stays in Bermuda!"

I couldn't help but grin in return. With everything that had happened this summer, I needed this. I had nearly collapsed during Boston University's grueling finals week. Next, despite my stellar grades, I endured four hellish months of all-day interviewing before I finally landed my first real job. On top of it all, Jeff, my boyfriend throughout junior and senior year, had texted me his terse break-up message just as I was taking my seat for my graduation ceremony. He couldn't even spare an hour to say goodbye in person before he left for his dream job in Minneapolis.

Now that was all behind me.

I drew in a deep breath of the Boston Harbor salt air. This week laid out before me with soft beaches of pink sand, shimmering strawberry daiquiris, and a harem of handsome, tanned waiters at my beck and call.

Paradise.

Kayla and I strolled up the covered gangplank to the ship. Our eyes were drawn first to the long rows of portholes and then to the balconies higher up on the massive structure. The railings glistened as if they had been freshly polished just for us.

Kayla stumbled to a stop, gape-jawed. My gaze automatically followed hers.

There, on the balcony of one of the larger suites, a red-headed woman with thick hair nearly to her waist was leaning forward against the side wall of the patio. Her hands stretched, splayed, before her. A tall, muscular Viking of a man was behind her, sliding her black skirt up around her hips. He moved his hand to his belt. Even from here we could see that the man was proportional. _Nicely_ proportional.

He eased his body slowly, steadily, against the woman's. We watched as she melted back against him, as pleasure coursed through her at his controlled, teasing entry.

Kayla's voice was rough. "Good God. I want some of that."

I found I couldn't look away. The Viking's hand slid up beneath the red-head's crisp, white shirt to caress her ample breast. She arched greedily into him. He rode against her eager body with steadily increasing rhythm. She threw her head back with desire, the harbor noises drowning out any cries she might have been doing her best to muffle.

A wave of envy rolled through me. Had I ever felt that surge of wild abandon with a man? Certainly not with Jeff. He had been cold, efficient, mostly interested in his own pleasure. The times he bothered to think about what I wanted, it had seemed more out of necessity, out of a balancing of his mental spreadsheets than from a real desire to connect with me.

I suddenly wished, with every cell in my body, to experience an encounter like what played out before my eyes. I craved the total release in which the woman was thoroughly immersed.

Kayla was still transfixed, and I found my voice. "Kayla, I doubt the man is on call for room service. Maybe he and that red-head are on their honeymoon," I watched them in motion, the freeness in every move they made. "Maybe this is their first moment together as man and wife."

Kayla shook her head, her eyes gleaming with intention. "Passengers won't be allowed in their rooms for another two hours," she pointed out, turning her gaze and striding up the gangplank with fresh zeal. "He's definitely a member of the crew. Once I track him down, he'll be sharing that muscular body of his with more than just the maids."

I gave a wry smile, trailing after her. Kayla was a force of nature when she got an idea in her head. Tall, curvaceous, she took it for granted that men would race to please her - and most of the time she was right. I was content to watch from within her shadow. I was dark-haired, slender, and until quite recently, I'd always been with Jeff, held firm beneath his attentive thumb.

Now I was free.

The idea shimmered within me, and I took in a long, deep breath. Maybe this vacation would finally shake me apart from the clinging tendrils of my past. Maybe, for once, I could let loose and see just what life truly had in store for me.

* * *

The sail-away party was all the TV commercials made it out to be. A dreadlocked reggae band was playing full blast amidst strobing lights and massive plastic palm trees. The hot tubs were bursting with polka-dot bikinis and rippled muscles. Everywhere you turned a waiter was offering a rainbow of tropical drinks. Kayla had stopped craning her neck every five minutes in search of her blond warrior and had settled into the groove, her neon-pink bikini placing her curves on prominent display. My black one-piece was slightly more modest, although its gold edging and plunging neckline brought out my toned features. I adored swimming, and my body had been sculpted by the years of my passion for it.

A lanky guy, his face peppered with tan freckles, came over with a smile. "Nice ship, huh? Amazing this'll be our home for the next week."

Tension rippled down my shoulders, and I took a step away from him. "Yes, I'm looking forward to it." My head swiveled, and I spotted Kayla leaning on one of the hot tubs. I gave the guy a nod before walking over to join her.

Her eyes danced as I reached her. "That guy was totally into you," she teased. "He's been watching you for ten minutes now. And the moment he builds up the courage to go over, you flee!"

My response was automatic. "But if Jeff had -"

She laughed out loud. "Lord, Amanda, we're going to have to break you of that habit. Jeff's jealous streak was just one of his many flaws. You're free of him now, girl!"

It was still hard to take in. I was free. I could talk with a man for more than thirty seconds without fearing Jeff storming in on us. Each time it had been the same routine. First Jeff would say something obnoxious to drive away the intruder. Then the rest of the evening would be a non-stop harangue about my lack of control.

I gave a wry smile. "It'll take me a while to get used to this," I admitted.

She nudged me in the ribs. "You've got one night," she instructed. "After that, I'll be taking drastic action. You're going to enjoy this cruise, no matter what it takes!"

The next few hours floated by in a pleasant blur. The music played, we soaked in the hot tubs, and we lounged on the tiers of beach chairs, basking in the sun-drenched afternoon. Men drifted by to flirt with Kayla with regularity. Some talked with me as well, but that frisson of nervousness still triggered each time.

I was patient with myself. My reactions had been embedded in me throughout the two long, soul-draining years of my relationship with Jeff. They would take some time to undo - but I would get there. I would recover, heal, and move on.

There was the deck-side BBQ with juicy burgers and buttered corn-on-the-cob. The band kicked into high gear for the sunset dance party, and Kayla and I swirled joyfully in the mob.

At last the breezes became too brisk to ignore. Kayla rubbed her hands on her arms, shivering. "OK, I need something warmer," she called out as the band bowed and waved their farewells. "Head in with me?"

In a few minutes we were down in our snug room which was already littered with tins of make-up, flocks of high-heeled shoes, and a kaleidoscope of short dresses. I slipped on a pair of tight black jeans, a crimson top, and black leather boots. Kayla was going with gold this evening, with a shimmering shirt and clinging white leggings. She winked at me as we pushed open the door.

We could hear the rock music thumping long before we reached the club. We rounded the corner, and Kayla stopped in her tracks, her eyes wide with delight. There on stage, dressed in a black t-shirt and black jeans, was her Viking god. His blond hair shone in the stage lights, and he had his head thrown back, belting out the song.

Kayla was off like a shot, wriggling her way through the throng to dance right in front of Thor. His eyes swept down to hers, a wide smile spread on his lips, and I shook my head. It looked like she might be getting her wish after all.

A waiter was by my side, balancing a round tray of at least ten Champagne flutes with the ease of a ballet dancer. "For you, miss?"

I put my room card down on the tray, took up two of the flutes, and nudged my head toward an empty table at the left side of the dance floor. He nodded and headed back to the bar to make the charge. I pushed my way through the noisy throng to take my seat. The waiter was right behind me, handing back my card and receipt to sign.

The task done, I turned my attention to the band. They were a four-piece, blasting the room with rock tunes. The drummer was an ape of a man, bald, muscular, with tribal tattoos down both arms. The bass player was tall, reedy, with stringy brown hair. The lead singer had descended from Valhalla to sing down to Kayla, his eyes drinking in her gold cleavage.

My eyes swung left to the lead guitarist. The stage lights angled to dazzle my eyes, and all I could see was his guitar and hands. The guitar was a gorgeous instrument with a natural wood finish. Was that mahogany or something more exotic? My grandfather would have known. He had loved carving wood. Some of my fondest memories were sitting by his side while he carefully worked on a piece, causing the roundness of a Bufflehead duck to magically surface out of a formless hunk of pine framing lumber.

I missed him dearly.

My arm was jostled, and Kayla was grinning down at me, taking up her glass to slug down half her drink in one pull. "Are you off in the weeds again," she teased. "Whatever it is, stop it!" She put down her glass and grabbed my hands, drawing me to my feet. "Live in the now!"

The music shifted, the guitar growled, and I was transfixed. Somewhere in my mind I knew Kayla had gone back to her station before her Norseman, but it was the guitarist's fingers which had my full attention. They _were_ the music. They were the coursing beat throbbing through my soul, the energy which surged into my feet, setting me in motion. It was as if the fingers were playing me, filling me, and when he cranked the neck up to slide up a key it was as if he lifted me, spun me around, and -

The lead singer leapt into the air, the drummer's sticks crashed into a finale, and the wall of sound snapped into an ending blast. The crowd roared in approval, and Kayla had me by the waist, spinning me around in excitement. Her mouth moved near my ear to be heard over the cacophony.

"Mardi Gras beads are going on the door handle," she called, her eyes bright with anticipation. "Give us an hour." She squeezed my arm, then she had vanished again.

I turned to look back to the stage. The drummer was wiping his shining pate off with a towel, the bass player was digging into his equipment bag, and the guitarist -

The guitarist was gone. Only his guitar remained on a stand, the polished wood gleaming in the lights.

# Chapter 2

The moon was high overhead, sending a shimmering stream of silvery light down on the ship's frothing wake. It seemed as if the churning water stretched all the way back to the Boston skyline, to the darkness and the monotonous life which, even now, clung to me with a tenacious grip. The weight of it bore down on my shoulders and dragged my spirit.

The roiling foam mesmerized me. It was as if I were in there, helpless, washed under, and there were none to see my plight. A dense cloud drifted across the moon, and with it, all hope.

The sobs came slowly at first, built in momentum, and soon I was sobbing as if the world were collapsing in jagged pieces around me. My hands gripped the rail, my fingers turning white. And still they came.

It seemed an eternity before the emotion ran its course, before coherent thought slid its way into the turmoil. It occurred to me, as I sucked in a long, shuddering breath, that I had never cried when Jeff had left. At the time his decision had seemed surreal, as if I were watching a movie of another person's life. There I was, sitting in my chair at my graduation, my parents in the stands. My phone had chimed, and I smiled, looking down. Surely this was Jeff offering up yet another oddball reason for why he was running late.

Got the job offer. They want me at the Minnesota branch. Flying out tomorrow morning. Wish me luck. Guess this is it for us.

Had fun.

The shock of it still rung within me, four long months later. _Had fun._ And that was it. Two years of investing in a relationship which apparently never had a chance.

The tang of salt air brought be back to the present, there was a movement at my side, and I huddled in. Maybe whoever it was would pass by. I wasn't in the mood to talk, not now, not with the wound so raw.

A low, gentle voice, velvet wrapped around a core of steel, sounded in my ear. "Tough night?"

I drew my sleeve against my face, wiping away the salty tears. My voice cracked. "Rough summer."

He gave a low, supportive chuckle. "A lot of those going around," he commiserated. "What was yours?"

I shook my head, looking down into the dark waves. "You don't want to hear."

He leaned against the rail by my side. "Wouldn't have asked if I didn't want the answer."

I gave a soft shrug. "Ex-boyfriend."

"Bad breakup?"

I snorted. "Barely even a break-up," I countered. "He texted when he knew I was trapped in the ceremony for hours. By the time I made it back to my apartment, he'd completely cleared out. As if he'd never been there."

"How long were you together?"

"Two years."

He glanced up at that. "Two years, and he sends you a text? Sounds like a jerk."

I looked down at my hands. "Didn't make it easier."

"It's never easy," he murmured. "It always hurts, even when you know it's not good for you."

"I never cried," I admitted. "It barely seemed real. One minute he was there, the next – nothing. He had been erased. His Facebook status clicked to single."

Silence drifted by, filled with the soft whooshing of the water beneath us. The man leaned on the rail beside me, his eyes following the small whirlpools we were leaving. I could barely see him in the ebony night. His voice was calm, non-judgmental. "So what did you do?"

I shrugged. "What was expected of me. I got a job in Boston, I got a studio apartment looking over the Charles." I gave a wry chuckle. "Mom and Dad can tell all their friends at the Lenox Country Club that I'm a big success."

"And now you're on a cruise to Bermuda."

"That was Kayla's idea," I pointed out. "She's been my best friend since we were young. She's been in Boston bartending while I went to college." My mouth quirked into a grin. "She's a bit ... wilder than I am."

His voice held the hint of a smile. "Oh, I think there are some hidden depths to you."

I blushed. It suddenly hit me that I was talking easily, openly, to a man I had just met. I'd never felt this comfortable with a guy before.

There was a low buzzing sound, and his hand went to his hip. He brought up his phone, glanced at its glowing screen, and cursed.

"I gotta run. But you hang in there. This cruise will change everything for you. I know it will."

He leant over and brushed his lips against the side of my cheek.

The world hung in suspended time.

My skin, still moist from the tears, shimmered at the contact with his velvet-soft lips. I was enveloped with the intoxicating aroma of his scent, a mix of sea salt, musky sweat, and leather. Longings, so long hidden deep within me, swirled, expanded, and rippled. My hands gripped the railing, the knuckles turning white, and I swung my eyes up -

He was gone. He had vanished into the night as surely as if it had swallowed him whole.

My shoulders slumped. I found the heavy door to let me back inside our floating tin can, then made my way down the deserted hallways to our cabin. Thankfully, the beads were no longer hanging on the door handle. Still, I knocked before cautiously pushing the door open.

Kayla was snoring like a hurricane, sprawled face-down, naked, on the bed amidst a tumble of sheets. I gently pulled the blankets over her with a low chuckle. She nuzzled in against them, and her snoring reduced to a soft noise of waves rolling onto a beach.

I stripped off my clothes, pulled on an old t-shirt, and climbed into my own bed.

And then it hit me.

I didn't even know his name. I had never even seen his face.

The thought staggered me for a moment, craving and longing melding with rich, agonizing despair.

I had lost him.

My one chance, and he had vanished. He was gone forever.

A silver shimmer, and suddenly our porthole was awash in soft light as the moon finally broke free from its thick cloud cover. I looked at the porthole and remembered the row of portholes along the side of the ship.

A smile glistened in my soul as I remembered just where I was.

For seven long days, we were all trapped on this one vessel. Somehow I would find him. Even if I had to talk to every single passenger and crew member on this massive ship, I would track him down.

# Chapter 3

I climbed out of the hot tub and wrapped my turquoise sarong around my hip. The noon sun soaked golden heat into my shoulders. I scanned the crowd which swirled around me, a mix of half-drunk college students, moon-eyed newlyweds, and hyperkinetic teenagers, all bright with joy.

Which man here had been the one?

I knew little about him. He was about six feet tall, well built, with dark hair and dark eyes.

I gave a wry grin. That could be a third of the men enjoying the beautiful blue sky and ice-cold beer.

I'd have to listen for the voice. That would be my cue.

I picked up my Champagne mimosa from the edge of the hot tub and gave it a sip. It looked like I'd be eating lunch alone, just as I had breakfast. Kayla had been gone before I woke, and I hadn't seen her all morning.

There was a flurry of drumbeat from the gazebo at the center of the pool area, and I looked up with interest. The heavyset drummer was leaning over his cymbal, turning the nut on it.

Aha! I had firm suspicion I knew where Kayla would be any minute now.

I walked over toward the gazebo. To the right on a stand was the bass guitarist's all-black instrument, shaped rather like an ebony lightning bolt. And to the left ...

I stepped toward it, my smile coming of its own accord. The guitar was work of art. In the daylight I could see it was coco bolo, with finely crafted layers of mahogany, elm, and was that maple?

I dropped to one knee to examine it more closely. My hand stretched out of its own accord.

A velvet voice, warm with amusement, came from over my shoulder. "You can touch it if you'd like."

I closed my eyes for a moment, soaking in the rich sensation which flowed through me like molten chocolate.

It was him.

Against all odds, the man who had soothed me was the guitarist I'd been watching last night, the one with the steady, sure fingers. I could imagine those fingers wrapping around my waist, turning me so my lips came up to meet his ...

He dropped to a knee at my side, his breath warm on my neck. "Go ahead." I could hear the sparkle of teasing deep in the rich tones. "You know you want to."

A flush coursed through my body, and I opened my eyes, turning to look at him.

God, he was stunningly handsome. His hair was dark, chocolate brown, tousled by the sea air, and I longed to twine my fingers in it. His eyes were deep green, the color of a pine forest, with flecks of gold. He wore a black t-shirt which caressed the rippled muscles of his chest. His body held a leanness which made me think of rugby.

His lips curved up into a knowing smile, and his gaze settled on my mouth. His voice was a purr.

"Like what you see?"

My throat closed up, and I could barely speak.

"Like?"

He nudged his head to the right. "My guitar."

I gave a choking laugh. "Oh, right. Yes, that's coco bolo, isn't it?"

He blinked, surprise showing in his gaze. "Yes, and maple."

I nodded, looking away from him, sanity taking a small hold over my mind as I fell into the familiar topic area. "I thought so. That grain is gorgeous; is that spalted?"

He smiled appreciatively. "You know your woods. Yes, there's a place out west that custom makes guitars. I'd played others with this combination, and the sound is just the right melding of rich and sharp."

Kayla's bright laugh carried across the patio, and I looked up. She was dressed in a hot pink bikini, and her arm was curled possessively through the Viking's. He had on a dark grey t-shirt and black shorts. He gave her ass a sharp spank, then stepped up onto stage. He looked around, his head swiveling to where the bass player lounged at the bar. He lifted his hand in a calling motion.

I drew to my feet. "I guess it's showtime."

His dark green eyes held mine. "Shall I make some music for you?"

When he looked at me that way, it was all I could do not to melt into a puddle at his feet. I found I could only nod.

The corners of his mouth turned up, and he ran his eyes down my body for a moment, caressing me with his gaze. Then he swept up his guitar, settled the strap across his shoulder, and nodded to the Viking.

The blond stepped up to the microphone. His voice belted out across the expanse. "Welcome to your vacation! How many of you are here from Massachusetts?"

It seemed like half of the crowd bellowed in response, waving arms and cheering.

The singer smiled. "I've got two words for you guys – Boston Strong!"

The cheers and hollers shook the ship, and he let them go on for a long time before speaking up again.

"The Sox are in the World Series, and we'll be running every game on the big screen! Are we gonna win this year?"

If I'd thought the noise was thunderous before, now it was downright deafening, and the singer gave a long, rich laugh in appreciation. He turned to the drummer ...

In the next beat the band was in motion, _Three Little Bird's_ rich harmonies pouring out of them as if they shared one mind.

Kayla's arm looped around my shoulder, and she jiggled me in excitement. "There you are, Amanda! God, girl, I have so much to tell you! If you thought Sven was amazing on the balcony -"

My eyes brightened in disbelief. "Sven?"

She pulled me back to a pair of chairs by a wrought iron table. "Maybe it's a stage name, but I don't care," she laughed. "The man is a Norse god. He's hung like a horse, and he has the endurance to match. First he ..."

I let her enthusiastic, elaborate description of every sex act they participated in wash over me. Kayla didn't want me to listen as much as she wanted to relive the event in its Technicolor glory. In the past she had gone on these long monologues while I'd been cooking dinner, showering, or even studying for final exams.

A sound caught my ear, and I turned. It was a rolling guitar riff I knew well, and my breath eased out. Somehow, amidst the island tunes, they had nestled in ...

From the Edge of the Deep Green Sea

Kayla laughed. "Amanda, are you listening?"

Would he lie? Did I care? I just wanted the music to play, the lyrics to spin around me, encircling me, drawing me up ...

I downed the rest of my mimosa and raised to my feet, spinning in bliss. Kayla joined me with a bright smile, swaying in place before her Viking. He belted out the lyrics to her as if a bright spotlight shone on them. But it was the guitar player's rhythmic fingers which drew me in, the focused attention in his eyes, the sense that we were connected, merged.

The lyrics circled, pounded ...

The guitar player was looking down at his fingers as he rocked with the rhythm, his whole being immersed in the music. I could feel it, his energy pouring out through the song, the rippling of the notes and the aching of emotion. The girl wanted the guy with all her heart, and when he took her in his arms ...

His head raised, and he looked straight at me.

It was as if a lightning bolt speared me through my soul, searing tendrils of snapping, golden energy throughout my body. It was all I could do to breathe, to hold his gaze.

His look was dark, swirling with emotion.

Then he turned and swept the head of his guitar neck up. The band drew the sound up, in, and spun it into a close with the precision of a long pass landing perfectly into a receiver's waiting hands.

Applause cascaded around us, surged like a towering ocean wave, and time stood still.

Thor leant forward into the microphone. "Drink up, everyone – we'll be back in just a few."

Kayla leant forward to pop a kiss on my cheek. "Gotta go, hun – see you later!" Then she was striding to the gazebo like a model on a catwalk, her swaying breasts clearing a swath through the other dancers. Sven's eyes lit up at her approach, and he had a thick, muscular arm around her the moment she came within range.

I watched as the two of them walked off toward the bar. I wished I could be like that. Kayla had always been confident and secure in herself, and her past few years bartending had only bolstered her attitude. Her latest gig had been at a swanky spot right around the corner from Boston Common, and we'd met up there occasionally for drinks and talk. Somehow no matter what she wore, there would be men coming up to the table, looking down at her with that smile –

A man's voice spoke from over my shoulder, warm, holding that hint of amusement. "Enjoy the set?"

I flushed, turning around. It was the guitar player, of course, and my eyes went automatically down to those fingers which had teased such rich music out of his instrument. They were amazing. Of course, all of him was amazing, and the fact that he was standing here, talking to me –

His grin widened. "That good, huh?"

My blush deepened, and I looked over to the table I had been sitting at with Kayla. "Would you care to have a seat?"

His eyes twinkled. "I believe I would." He walked me over to the table and pulled out the chair for me. Then he stretched back into his own, his biceps rippling as he raised them over his head. "That guitar's fantastic, but it's heavy," he commented. "There's always some sort of a trade-off in life."

"Checks and balances," I agreed.

He looked me over. "So, let me guess. Family comes from money?"

I blushed, looking down. "How did you know?"

He grinned. "Your manners, for one. In my family, we were what you might call 'barely civilized'. My mother was lucky to get us all to sit down at the table at one time without one of us throwing things at the others. I think she'd have used paper plates and plastic silverware if she could have gotten away with it."

He shrugged. "And you talked about the country club in Lenox. Can't imagine that's a cheap place to belong to."

I shook my head. "No, and my parents are sure to let everyone they talk to know it, too."

He raised an eyebrow. "So, not too fond of the family fortune?"

I took a sip of my drink. "Money like that comes with more than strings – it comes with heavy chains. Rules about how you're expected to act, who you're expected to see, and how you should live your life. I had to put up with it for the first eighteen years of my life."

I looked out over the water, back to where the Boston skyline was lost in the distance. "When I turned eighteen, I cut all ties. My parents pushed hard to make me go to Yale. They would have paid for everything. Bought me a new Lexus to celebrate." The darkness swirled in, as it always did. "And I would have been theirs forever."

I shook myself. "Thank God, I had my scholarship to Boston University. They were furious, but I went. I severed the cord and left. I wanted to live my life on my own terms, not relying on an allowance from Daddy or worrying about what Mommy might say."

He raised an eyebrow. "Lots of folks would be eager for a rich relative."

I chuckled without mirth. "Those would usually be the ones who haven't had to deal with said relative," I pointed out. "I think people don't realize just how much they already have, in their blindness of looking for something better. Just think of all of the billions of people in the world who struggle just for food. Here we are, worrying about what types of shoes we wear or what restaurant we should go to. And we think we don't have enough?"

He tilted his head to the side, his eyes refocusing on me as if drawing me into a new awareness.

My shoulders slumped. I'd done it again. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –"

"No, no," he assured me, his gaze holding mine. "It's all right. It's just, I don't hear that type of talk much on the ship. It's refreshing."

A waiter stopped by, taking up the empty glasses. "Would you like another, miss?"

"Sure, why not." I reached for my purse.

The guitarist waved me off. "Put it on my tab, Rico," he instructed the waiter.

The waiter winked at him. "Sure thing, Evan. And good job on the set. Lucky break for you, that other guitarist falling sick like that."

Evan grinned. "Lucky, indeed."

The name rolled around in my mind. Evan. A solid, Irish name. He looked the part, too. I could see it now, the sturdiness in his face, the sense of taking on all comers that I'd seen in the men in Boston's many Irish bars.

I turned to Evan as the waiter headed back to the bar. Rico's words swirled in my mind. "So you're not the regular guitarist?"

He shook his head. "Just a fill-in. It's a long story."

I glanced at the stage. "OK, you probably don't have a long break. Can I have the elevator speech version?"

He chuckled. "Your degree's in something business related, I take it."

I flushed. "I'm afraid so."

His eyes held mine. "That's all right. Short version it is." His tone became somber. "It's because of the Boston Marathon bombing. I was at the finish line when those bombs went off."

I reached a hand automatically for his, laying my fingers over his warmth. My voice hushed. "God, Evan, I'm so sorry. I had several friends running in that race, and I was further back in the crowd when that happened. Those first few days – they were like a nightmare. Even now, I think about it any time I go into that area of the city."

He nodded. "Something like that changes you forever. There was the shock, and the injured bodies, and I raced to help. I did what I could, but in some cases it just wasn't enough."

He looked down. "So I turned my shows into benefit gigs. Supporting the victims, supporting the recovery efforts, and it just never seemed to be enough. I poured every drop of my savings into the cause." His shoulders tightened. "I had this small apartment in the combat zone, not much, but I got evicted. A friend of mine convinced me to sign up for a four month tour on this cruise line as a bartender. Free food, free board, and it'd help me get my feet back under me. Most of the people taking this run are from the area, so I'd still be helping out – I'd help them heal. And ... and I suppose I needed some of that too."

My fingers wrapped around his. "Of course you did."

He let out a long breath. "I brought my guitar, of course. I don't go anywhere without it. I'd play for the crew, in our free time, and got a loyal following. Then, about three weeks into my tour, the band's guitarist got ill, and the band needed someone to fill in." He gave a low chuckle. "You're on a ship at sea – there aren't too many spare musicians lying around. The guys had heard me play, and they lobbied for me to get transferred." He spread his arms. "And here I am."

"You're quite good," I praised. "They were wise to choose you."

His eyes lit up. "Glad you think so."

Rico came back with my drink, placing it before me with a wink. "On the house."

Evan glanced up. "No, Rico, I'm paying."

Rico's smile widened. "God, Evan, you help us out when it's not your shift, and you spend all your free time playing for us. Think of it as just a tiny bit of good karma, coming back your way."

He smiled. "Thank you, I appreciate it."

"No problem. Gotta maintain that cosmic balance." He grinned and headed toward the bar.

I watched him go. "I wonder if life ever does balance like that, like the neat figures on a general ledger."

Evan's eyes sparkled. "Business degree, and I'm assuming it's in finance?"

I flushed in embarrassment. "When I arrived at college I had this thought that I'd reinvent myself. You know, become an art major, or a poet, or something wild and exciting. But when I met with my counselor, they looked at my high school transcript and said it made the most sense for me to enroll in the accounting program. They said I'd do well at it."

He raised an eyebrow. "And did you?"

I nodded. "Sure. Got great grades and earned my degree. I have a solid job in Boston now. Good benefits. 401K."

I sighed. "But it's all about money. As if those dollars and cents are what matters in life. But they don't. They're a way of quantifying something that is hollow. I had money, and I was miserable. Kayla has just enough to get by, and she has an absolute blast. It's about how content you are with what you have, not about the piles of random stuff you can strive to acquire."

Evan quieted, his gaze on me. "You're absolutely right."

My shoulders slumped. "And it was more than that. I was driven into a field I disliked, like a cow being pushed into that high metal chute at the slaughterhouse. It's like, despite everything I tried, I still never got free from my parents. All those decisions they made for me in high school are still controlling me. Still making me miserable." My voice dropped. "I'm trapped."

Evan shook his head. "You control what action you take, every moment of the day. What is in the past can't be changed. You can only choose what you do in the moment. If you want your life to be different, pay attention to those choices."

A rough voice called out from the gazebo. "Evan? We're ready to go."

Evan looked around and nodded to the drummer. He squeezed my hand for a moment. "You're a special person, ... ummm ... " He paused, and his eyebrow raised quizzically.

I blinked. "Oh! I'm Amanda. I guess we never really formally met."

He smiled, putting out a hand. "I forgot to bring my calling card."

I blushed and took his hand. It was sturdy, warm, and I could just imagine it catching a long pass, tucking the ball in against that rippled chest of his, and blasting hard through a wall of burly defenders.

The words popped out of my mouth before I could rein them in. "Do you play rugby?"

His eyes sparked with surprise. "I do indeed." He glanced up at the sports deck. "But not on this tub, I'm afraid. Back in Boston, I'm on a team. Just a bunch of the lads roughhousing."

I wondered if I'd seen him in one of the open fields during one of my walks around the city. I wondered if I'd passed by him, never knowing what lay within that well-muscled body and handsome face.

He brushed his lips against my fingers, and a shimmer of emotion sank deep within me.

"We go on tonight at nine – maybe you'll come join us?"

I smiled, warmth settling into every region of my body. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."

The drummer's voice was sharper. "Evan!"

Evan held my gaze for a moment longer, then turned, and he was gone. I felt his absence like a hollow in my heart, an ache which delved into my very core.

# Chapter 4

My heart thundered against my ribs as I stood at the entryway to the club. Dinner had been fantastic – filet mignon with béarnaise sauce and asparagus – but I'd barely tasted a bite. Every thought was on tonight, on counting the minutes until I could see Evan again.

I looked down myself for the hundredth time. It was the best dress I'd brought. Crimson, sparkling, ending mid-thigh and with a deep cleavage. I wasn't as moose-stoppingly busty as Kayla, but my body was toned, sleek, and I hoped Evan would approve. He was so searingly handsome that he could have any woman on this ship. For some reason he was choosing to talk to me. The thought of seeing him with someone else sent sharp daggers through my chest.

I took in a deep breath, tossed back my hair, and walked in.

The place was packed. Already the band had made a name for itself with the passengers, and the crowds had come on thick. I pushed my way through, looking –

Kayla's voice came bright from a corner near the stage. "Amanda! Over here!"

It was hard to miss her, once I turned to look. Her strapless outfit was neon pink, skin tight, nearly painted on along her large breasts. The Viking was at her side, his hand sliding along her hip. And next to them ...

I nearly stopped at the rich emotion in his eyes, and he looked down my body, soaking me in. He was in a black t-shirt, jeans, and I wanted to pull the t-shirt up out from his belt, slide my hands along the ripples of his muscles, press myself against ...

I shook myself from my fantasies as I came up to them, and Kayla smiled. She reached down to the table they stood against and handed me a flute. "Champagne, my dear," she grinned. "Only the best for our tropical getaway."

I took a sip, then turned to look up at Evan. His eyes seared into mine, and I glowed with the heat. His voice was thick. "You look ... amazing, Amanda."

My cheeks flushed. "Thanks."

The drummer rapped his sticks together twice, and Evan's head turned. He looked back to me. "Tom's ready to go. Maybe we can talk later?"

I nodded, transfixed by his lips, and he smiled. I swayed toward him, drawn in by the scent of musk and sea salt and something sensual, and his hand brushed along my hip. Tingles coursed through me, lighting my body like an electrical charge. Then he turned, moving with Sven up onto the stage.

Kayla's eyes followed her Viking. "Isn't he amazing? Like a God damned miracle, he is."

I nodded, my heart echoing the same words.

Evan slid on the guitar and looked back to the drummer. Tom raised his sticks in the air and rapped them together sharply four times in a row.

A wall of sound blasted out, a heavy, driving beat. Sven's voice soared in a battle cry, filling the room, thundering over us all as they launched into Zeppelin's _The Immigrant Song_.

Sven was a Norse god. I could see him, sword held high, on the front of a Viking longboat, charging down at a defenseless village, hot blooded to plunder, rape, and burn all in his path.

Kayla grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor, and the mob formed around us. The room rippled with the beat, with the thrumming of the guitar, and my body vibrated with every movement of Evan's hand. The music coursed through me, primal, deep, and every cell in my body wanted him. I danced through the thick wall of people until I was right before him, one with his movements, one with that thick, muscled arm that –

The hand swept up, the music crashed to a halt, and he looked up.

A roar of approval thundered from the crowd, shook me to my very core, and I was lost in his eyes. Completely lost. There was no him, or me, or the mob of crazed fans around us. There was just a sense of perfection. Of something pure and endless and ...

His fingers started moving again, a longing, rippling progression easing out of them, and I followed with it, swaying, the need building up with me. Sven's vocals eased into place, sliding into _Ramble On_.

I hadn't known I could feel like this. I spun and swirled like an autumn leaf, danced, transported by those fingers, by a connection I'd never felt before. Kayla was over with her Norse god, the room was beyond packed, and it was all far away from me. There was just me, and Evan, and this glorious music. The songs streamed into each other, Kalya gave a wave as she headed to the bar, and I wondered distantly when the band would take its break.

Emotions warred with me. I didn't want this music to ever end. And I wanted Evan down in front of me, so I could hold him, so he could reach out with that hand, take me by the arm –

Firm fingers latched onto my arm, the grip digging into my skin.

I spun in shock, my eyes looking up –

Jeff stood there, his face flushed with fury, his light brown hair askew. He wore a dark green polo shirt over tan khakis, and I could smell the stink of cheap beer on his breath.

His voice was rich with shock and anger. "Amanda! What the fuck!"

# Chapter 5

My mouth fell open in unbelieving shock. I staggered back, and it was only Jeff's solid grip on my arm which kept me on my feet. He gave my wrist a shake, his look darkening as he drew his eyes down me.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda. You look like a whore. And you're shaking your ass so every guy in the room can get his rocks off watching you. Who the fuck put you up to this?" He turned his head, his eyes reaching the bar, to Kayla's hot pink outfit which shone like a beacon in the madness. "Of course," he growled. "I told you to stay away from that skank."

He turned his eyes to pin me. "We're going back to my room. Now."

My heart thundered against my ribs. I couldn't go. I couldn't do it. He would get me alone, and he would ... he would ...

A presence came up behind me, steady, powerful, and I closed my eyes. For a moment Jeff vanished, and I breathed in the scent. I leant back slightly, and he was there, sturdy, muscular, and I knew.

I was safe.

Evan's voice was low, calm, but there was a thread in there, a hint of something which should never be crossed.

"Take your hands off of her."

The tight grip released from my arm, and I blinked my eyes open, drawing my arm in against my chest for safety. I rubbed the mark with my other hand, wondering how bad the bruises would be.

The two men were about the same height, six feet or so, and maybe even the same build. But the difference between them stunned me. Jeff had liked working out in the weight room, constructing a build which was good for show. He was like a catwalk model who had designed a costume for display.

I could feel Evan's strength behind me, and I knew his carved muscles were for a different purpose altogether. He was designed for action – and he wouldn't back down.

Jeff threw back his head, meeting Evan's gaze with hot heat. "And who the fuck are you?"

I found my voice. "Jeff, this is Evan. He's ... he's a friend of mine."

Jeff's lips turned down into a sneer. "Good God, Amanda. Now you're fucking the crew? What's next? You'll bang the janitor because he does a good job scrubbing your toilet?"

Evan stilled behind me, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn't let Jeff do this. I couldn't let him destroy everything, get Evan thrown off the ship, and bring my world crashing down around me.

Not again.

I leant back slightly against Evan, and it was as if I'd plugged into a high voltage power supply. Strength coursed through me, enriched me, infused me. Evan's hand came to rest on my hip as if it'd always belonged there, and I smiled.

"Jeff, you and I broke up months ago. You're in my past. What I choose to do now – in my present – is wholly up to me. I hope you have a good time on the rest of your cruise." I drew myself up. "And now, if you'll excuse me –"

I began to turn.

Jeff's arm flashed out, reaching to grab my upper arm.

Evan moved more quickly than I could have thought possible. His hand intercepted Jeff's arm, Evan's fingers closing solidly around Jeff's forearm. The fingers tightened, and Jeff's movement was forcibly stopped.

Jeff's face darkened, and his neck muscles bulged with strain, but he could not move his arm an inch. Evan held him solidly in place.

A second went by, then two ... then Jeff blew out his breath in fury. He went slack, as if he'd stopped fighting. His voice came out in a growl. "Let me the fuck go."

Evan spread his fingers, and Jeff snatched his arm back, his other hand going instinctively to rub against the bruised skin.

Evan's voice was low, edged with steel. "We have very firm policies on this ship to safeguard our passengers' safety. I'm afraid, if you approach Amanda again, that I'll have to call in security."

Jeff's face flushed, his eyes turned coal black, and he drew his eyes down me in disgust. He spat the words out at me. "He'll get tired of you, Amanda. I bet he has a groupie every night of the week on this ship, and he dips his wick into every one of them. He won't be around to watch over you forever. And then I'll be there, waiting to take what's mine."

He raked me with his gaze one last time, then he turned and stalked out of the club.

Kayla bounced up to us, a glass of Champagne in each hand, her eyes bright with joy. "Finally got us those drinks, 'Mand! Here ya go!"

I took the flute from her, put it to my lips, and drank the entire thing down in one long swallow. I staggered back, and Evan's hand was there around my waist, steady, holding me up.

Kayla raised her arms up in victory, letting loose with a wild whoop. "There ya go, 'Mand! You're finally free!" She gave a playful punch to Evan's arm. "Way to go, Evan, I think you've done it. You've set her loose." She grabbed my empty glass, handed me the other full one, and swirled back toward the bar.

My knees wobbled beneath me, and Evan guided me back over to our table, settling me down into the chair. He dropped into the seat at my side, pulling forward to straddle my legs with his. He took up my hands.

"Are you ok?"

My breath eased out of me in a long, slow flow. I still couldn't believe I'd done it. I'd sent Jeff away. In all my time with him, I couldn't ever have imagined doing that, speaking up to him.

I thought of how Evan had been drawn into it all, and I flushed. I looked up at him, guilt coursing through me.

"Evan, I'm so sorry. Jeff gets that way when he's been drinking, and he –"

He tilted his head to one side. "Are you apologizing for Jeff?"

The words dried up in my mouth. For so long that had been my way of living, my daily habit.

I nodded.

He raised his fingers to my cheek, gently running them down my skin. "God, Amanda, don't ever apologize for someone else. You are only responsible for you. Nobody else." His gaze hardened for a moment. "Jeff is a jerk, and a nobody, and he is in your past. Whatever he used to do to you, or however he used to treat you, that is behind you now."

He tucked a stray curl of my hair behind my ear. "You control your future now, Amanda. It's your choices which guide your path."

The thought glowed within me, billowed, and I looked into his eyes.

His breath caught, and for a moment his lips floated closer.

The sound of drumsticks rapping came from the stage, and he turned, blowing out his breath. He gave my hands a squeeze, and then he was gone.

I closed my eyes, sitting back in my chair, the enormity of the moment washing over me.

The guitar eased through the babble of conversation, a rolling, bubbling brook, a familiar, comfortable, heart-felt call as the band slid into _Going to California_.

I turned my chair so I could sit back and just watch him. He looked up and smiled, then eased back into the flow of the music, and it was as if he were performing for me alone. It was just him, me, the fingers on the strings, and the rich, aching, haunting sounds which floated out across the room.

The music flowed, the room ebbed and flowed, and I blinked as the last notes of the last song echoed out against the dark walls. Sven's voice was hoarse from his long night of singing. "And that's it for tonight, folks! Be sure to enjoy your day on Bermuda tomorrow, and come back on board for our set tomorrow night! Boston Strong!"

The crowd roared back, the noise shaking the glassware hanging above the bar.

Kayla bounced up to Sven, a glowing apparition of pink and sparkles, and she giggled as he took her up in both arms and spun her around. She turned to look at me over her shoulder.

"Beads!"

And then they were drifting with the ebbing tide, flowing out with the sea of patrons returning to their rooms.

Evan had tucked his guitar into a soft black bag, and he slung it over his shoulder, coming over to me. He raised an eyebrow. "Beads?"

I stood, chuckling. "She means the Mardi Gras beads will be on the door handle," I explained. "I'm homeless for an hour or two."

He glanced at the doorway to the club, his brow creasing in concern. "Oh?"

"I'll be fine," I reassured him. "I'll just hang out here, and –"

A rail-thin girl with heavy owl-eye makeup, looking barely legal to drink, staggered into me, splashing me with the martini she balanced precariously in one hand. She let out a shriek of laughter, then staggered back to her friends.

Evan brushed me down. "I have somewhere I go after gigs, to unwind. If you wanted to come along –"

"Sure," I responded instantly, gathering up my purse.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze shielding from me as if he'd slid on internal sunglasses. Then he nodded, took me gently by the arm, and led me out.

We crossed the length of the ship, down mostly deserted hallways. The occasional passenger we crossed seemed bleary-eyed and unable to hold a straight line. Then we reached the double doors to the Stardust Theater. He put his hand against it for a moment, as if contemplating something, then he drew it open, inviting me through.

The theater was vast, seeming even larger in the soft lighting. He led me up the side stairway to the balcony, drawing me along the row until we reached a nook in the front, tucked in the shadows. There was a curved, plush bench seat there, fronted by a small round table. He put his guitar to one side, then slid into the bench. His arm came up onto the back of the bench. I moved in after him, tucking myself in, and his arm came down along my shoulder as if it'd always belonged there.

I sighed, resting my head on his shoulder, and the world settled into place. After the cacophony of the evening, the silence seemed stunning.

I smiled. "This is nice."

He nodded. "I found this spot pretty early on in my tour. If you think your rooms are tight, you should see the crew quarters sometime. We have the four of us stuffed into a space the size of a breadbox. You can't inhale without three other people hearing it. It's as if they can listen in on your very thoughts. And sometimes ..." He closed his eyes. "Sometimes I just need to be alone."

I nuzzled my head against his chest. "You're not alone now."

He gave a soft chuckle, and he pressed his lips against my forehead. "That's quite all right," he murmured.

I nestled closer into his nook. "Guess I'm lucky that Kayla put the beads out."

A smile lit his voice. "You two must have been hell during high school," he teased. "Thelma and Louise. The boys never stood a chance."

I shook my head. "We were Charlie's Angels," I corrected. "There were three of us."

He raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And what happened to the third?"

Darkness descended on me, swirling me into its depths, and I let out a breath.

He drew me in, his lips pressing to my forehead again, holding there. "I'm so sorry."

My voice was tight. "She ... it was freshman year, and Tanya became obsessed with this senior. Eddie. Eddie seemed to have it all. Tall, dark, brooding, lots of cash. Drove a bright-red Ferrari. Tanya set out to catch him as if she were planning to climb Mount Everest. It was all she ever talked about."

He nodded against me, letting me tell my tale at my own pace.

I eased against his sturdy chest, wrapping my arm around him. "He told her heroin would make their sex fantastic. Turn it into a mind-blowing trip like she'd never seen." The ache delved into me. "And of course, she dove in. Anything for her Eddie."

He twined a hand into my hair, comforting me.

Tears brimmed in my eyes. "I'm the one who found her. It was junior year, right before Christmas. We were supposed to go out shopping, and she never showed at my house. She wasn't answering her phone, either. It was the middle of the afternoon, so I drove over there and let myself in. We were always visiting each other; were practically members of each other's families. So we all had keys."

Hot tears trickled down my cheeks. "And there she was, sprawled across her lavender bedspread. She still had some of her purple unicorns on one shelf. I remember it. She had on jeans, and a black lace bra, and her closet door was open as if she'd been deciding what to wear. But she was covered with vomit, and her eyes were wide, glassy, and not moving. And I just screamed ... and screamed ..."

He held me tight as the sobs shook me, as the horror of that afternoon dug into me, taking root, twisting me inside out.

At long last the pain eased a little, and I wiped my face off on his t-shirt.

His voice was rough. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Sorry for you all."

I slid my hand along his waist. "And you know the worst part? That bastard, Eddie, never even paid for it. He vanished. Turns out he'd been supplying heroin to half the school. A number of kids went into hard withdrawal when their supply dried up. But I suppose it was still better than what happened to Tanya."

I pressed my lips together. "And most of the kids had been like Tanya. Hadn't really been interested in starting. Did it because he lured them in. He convinced them that it was safe, that it was fun. Like riding a roller coaster, and you can just step off when the ride is done."

His voice was a low growl. "It is _not_ ," he countered. "It's like a tapeworm. It digs into your system, and grows, and grows, and clawing it out can involve excruciating agony."

He stilled, and his voice became tense. "Did you –"

"No," I quickly reassured him. "Kayla and I stayed as far away from that junk as possible. We tried to get Tanya to quit, too, but she was just too hooked into Eddie. Hooked into her dream."

He nodded, his body relaxing beneath me. "You can't make that decision for someone else," he murmured. "You can do your best to provide the path, but they're the one who has to take that step. Or it will never stick."

I blinked away the remaining tears, tilting my face to look up at him. "Thank you for listening."

His breath caught, his pine-forest-green eyes glimmered in the shadows, and a deep groan shook through his body. "God, Amanda, you are so beautiful."

I stretched up against him, brushing my lips against his, a butterfly's flutter.

His groan grew deeper, and his hand slid along my waist.

I turned so I straddled his leg, half laying across him on the velvety bench, and I brought my mouth more firmly onto his. His lips parted in a strong inhale, and I slipped my tongue in, being driven on by a strong emotion I barely knew existed within me.

I wanted him. I wanted him with every ounce of my being.

His tongue slipped against mine, craving coursed through my sex, and I moaned in agony.

He shuddered, his hands flexed, and –

He blew out his breath, seated his hands on my hips, and lifted me up, putting me back on my side of the bench.

I blinked at him in shock, my breath coming in heaves, my nipples hard and pressing against my bra, burning in sheer agony. My entire body tingled, resonating with him.

Then shame flooded through me, rocking me to my very core.

He didn't want me.

I turned to find my purse, tears welling in my eyes again, streaming down cheeks burning with embarrassment. I could barely get the words out.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what I –"

His fingers laid gently on my chin, turning my head so I looked to him.

His voice was rough with emotion. "God, Amanda, no. Don't think that. You are amazing, and beautiful, and –" He cut himself off, running a thumb down my cheek, smearing away a tear. His breath was a whisper. "I could never hurt you."

A glimmer of a thought came to me. "Is it ... is it your work?"

His brow creased for a moment, then smoothed, and he nodded. "Yes. If you could ... if we could just wait until we get back to Boston, we can start again. Fresh. It could ... we could try." His hand cupped my face. "God, Amanda, I want to try."

I blinked in confusion as the Thunder God came to mind. "But if Sven –"

His brow creased again before he took in a breath. He shook his head. "Sven has been on this run for years," he explained. "I'm barely a week into my spot. I can't afford to screw this up. Not now."

I nodded, relief coming through me. "I understand. Really, I do. I had to work two jobs to keep myself going through school. You do what you have to do."

He twined a hand through my hair. "Wait for me," he whispered. "It'll take time, before I'm done with this, but tell me you'll wait for me."

I nodded, and the look in his eyes was all I could have dreamed of.

# Chapter 6

I adored Bermuda. I adored everything about it. The brilliant blue skies over my head, the drifting white clouds, the rippling waters which shimmered in the cove before me. I was at the Snorkel Park, a mere five minute walk from the ship. To the right stretched a grey cliff wall, and to the left a ring of stone created a shallow zone of safety which was perfect for snorkeling.

Best of all, amazingly, there was barely anybody here. Most of the passengers, undoubtedly, had taken tours to go off to ride jet-skis, play golf, or do some deep-sea fishing.

I smiled. Great news for me and my fish.

I finished tucking my sarong into its dry bag, then slipped that into the mesh bag attached to the belt at my waist. I wore my black swimsuit, matching black swim shoes, and I held my snorkel and mask in my hand. My body glistened with suntan oil.

I breathed in the crisp salt air in deep, heart-felt satisfaction.

I looked down at my mask and spoke to the world at large. "Now, time to find some fish."

A warm voice sounded at my shoulder, rich with amusement. "Care for some help with that?"

I turned in surprise, and my breath left me.

He was a god. Surely he was some sort of tropical ocean god, descended to earth for a brief, shimmering moment, and when the waves receded he'd be gone again.

He was clad only in black swim trunks and black swim shoes. He had a waterproof watch on one wrist, and a dry bag at his side held his phone and ship pass. That was it. The rest of him was solid, naked, rippling muscle, gleaming in the sun, making my mouth go dry.

I could barely speak. "They let you get off the ship?"

He chuckled at that. "It's not a prison barge, you know," he teased. "They do give us some time off for good behavior." He glanced back in the direction of the ship. "This is our down time – the ship is pretty empty right now. I'll need to go back in the evening, though. They want those clubs filled at night, when they rake in their money from booze."

He raised a hand in the air. It held a baggie full of little pieces of brown. "Care to find some fish?"

I creased my brow in confusion, but I nodded, stepping forward with him into the water. The ocean was cool but pleasant in the warm sun. Once I was in to my waist I lowered my mask into the water, then spit into it, swirling it around to distribute it. I shook it out, then tilted my head back to dip my head into the water up to the hairline. With it neatly smoothed on my head, I then put on the mask, settling the snorkel into place.

I turned to Evan in curiosity. I spoke through the plastic, careful to enunciate clearly. "You don't have gear?"

He shook his head, his eyes twinkling. "I can hold my breath a long time."

I looked over his physique and held in a moan. I bet he could do pretty much anything he set his mind to.

He pointed to the water. "Down you go. Keep your eyes toward the ocean."

I nodded obediently, pushing off, floating face-down in the water. The sand was beautiful – clean, sparkling, with the occasional hole leading to a mysterious ocean-dwelling creature within.

His closed hand came into my view, the fingers clenched as if holding something. He paused ... waited ... and then opened his hand.

A cloud of small, brown items, almost like chocolate jimmies on ice cream but larger, floated from his fingers.

WHOOSH.

A swarm of large, silver fish, each about the size of an oval dinner plate, with black spots on their tails, appeared completely out of nowhere. They raced around me, eagerly snapping up the items in a wild frenzy.

I shrieked in delight and surprise and worry, flailing with my feet, leaping up out of the water. "Good God Almighty!"

Evan was laughing, his eyes bright, and I pulled the tube from my mouth. "What in God's name was that?"

He held up the bag. "Fish food. It's made for oriental water gardens, for feeding to koi and such. But the local fish here seem to adore it."

I looked down at the flock of eager creatures which now swirled around our legs. "What are they?"

"Silver porgies," he explained. "Perfectly harmless. Just look at those big eyes. How can you not love them?"

They did look awfully cute, like a family of aquatic playful puppies looking for some treats.

I put the snorkel back into my mouth and carefully lowered myself back into the water, not wanting to hit one by accident. I spoke into the tube. "Do it again!"

The hand came before my mask again, the fingers rippling, and then they were open. Again the fish came in, eager, alive with desire, and I laughed in delight as they darted here and there, grabbing at the food. I reached out my hand. The fish didn't mind at all, just swirled around me.

Evan's hand slid through the water, leaving a trail of food behind it, and the fish followed as if he were the Pied Piper of Bermuda playing a music only they could hear.

He made a spiral shape and they darted high and low, snatching the small items with careful precision.

I drew up to my feet again. "Can I try?"

He held the bag open to me, and I took a small handful. I tucked back into the water and cautiously opened my fingers.

The silver flashed, the big eyes gazed at me in appreciation, and tiny mouths carefully plucked the food from the water before me, only inches from my face.

I was in heaven.

"Get them to eat from your hand," I called out through my tube.

I imagine it came out something like "Murfphl bwwem EAT flaghum turrrr HAN."

His closed hand came down into the water again, and this time the fingers only opened slightly, making a cage out of his fingers. The fish clustered around him, poking their little mouths against him, and suddenly he flexed his fingers, pulling his hand sharply up.

I got to my feet, pulling my tube from my mouth. "Are you ok?"

He grinned, looking down at his finger. "Just a little nibble, like a parakeet's bite. Didn't even leave a mark. I imagine he was just trying to get in at the food."

He held up the empty baggy. "We're done for the day, though."

My face fell, and he smiled. "I do have more back in my room. If you're free tomorrow –"

I nodded my head eagerly. "Yes! Absolutely!"

He paused, looking at me, his eyes seeming to become lost in mine. Then he gave himself a shake and tucked the baggie in at his waist. He waved a hand over toward the rock wall. "Shall we?"

We dove into the water, swimming toward the reef, and a trail of hopeful porgies came along behind us, perhaps thinking that we were holding out on them. They stayed in among us, silvery guardian angels, as we descended into the tumbled rocks.

Evan pointed down and ahead, and I smiled. It was a gorgeous, turquoise-lavender parrot fish, the length of my forearm, placidly cracking away at a hunk of coral. I could hear the _crick crick_ of his beak. We swam closer, and he didn't mind a bit. We were in his world now, and he was content to let us watch.

A flurry of bright motion, and a tiny sergeant-major swam in front of my face-mask, as if it was a window and my eyes were a strange new sight. His body was perhaps the size of an Oreo cookie, but shimmery white, with golden yellow highlights and dark black stripes.

Evan went up for a breath of air, and when he came back down again there were three more parrot fish joining the first, all serenely nibbling away at the coral.

We swam around for a full hour, exploring the nooks and crannies, always trailed by our silver porgie friends. At last I was starving and tired, and we made our way back up onto the beach.

I smiled at him. "That was fun," I grinned. "I hope the weather is just as gorgeous tomorrow."

"Looks like it should be," he agreed, his eyes shining. "It's the nice thing about the boat simply parking here for three days straight. You get to spend a lot of time doing the things you enjoy."

His phone buzzed in his dry bag, and he glanced down at it, frowning. "I'm sorry, but I need to go do something." He glanced toward the ship. "Can you make it back on your own?"

I laughed. "It's a five minute walk, and I got here all right," I pointed out. "Thank you for an amazing swim. And you're playing tonight, at nine?"

He nodded, his eyes on mine, and for a moment he wavered, as if he might step forward. Then he deliberately took a step back, rolling his shoulders. "Right. Well, have a great afternoon, Amanda." He turned and walked up across the sandy beach to the walkway.

I watched him go, a twist of emotions wrangling within me. I knew it had to be like this. He was on a short leash with the cruise line, and I imagined they had fairly serious rules about fraternizing with the guests. He was already skirting the edges of them by spending time with me. And yet, it was hard to watch him walk away, to not crave spending every moment of time with him that I could.

# Chapter 7

I wore a turquoise dress tonight, one that hugged my slender curves and shimmered as I moved. I smiled as I stepped into the club, and my smile widened into a glowing grin as his eyes swept over from the stage to connect with mine. The look on his face was all I could have hoped for.

He watched me the entire length of my walk up to him, and then he jumped easily down from the stage to stand in front of me. He shook his head, his eyes tracing down me again.

His voice was hoarse. "You look ... stunning. Like a siren come to life."

I blushed. He was in a charcoal-grey t-shirt with jeans, and his guitar was out, waiting on its stand at the side of the stage.

There was blond movement from the right, and in a moment Thor approached with Kayla connected at his hip as if they were melding into a multi-armed golden-haired Hindu god. She was wearing bumblebee yellow, with a dress that left most of her chest and stomach exposed.

She flashed a bright smile at me. "There you are, Amanda! Are you coming out to the campfire later tonight? Should be a blast!"

I flushed, my cheeks flaring. Evan hadn't mentioned a campfire, and there could be any number of reasons for that. I made a waving motion with my hand. "That's all right, Kayla," I mumbled, "I'm sure that –"

She grabbed my hand with both of hers. "But you _have_ to come, 'Mand! It'll be perfect! Soft ocean breezes, the wood smoke, the guitar playing ..."

I glanced over at Evan. His gaze was shadowed, troubled, and I wondered what was going through his mind.

Then he nodded, his face easing. "You should come," he agreed. "You and Kayla should stick together, right?"

Kayla's voice was bright with satisfaction. "Exactly," she agreed. "It'll be a double date!"

Tom climbed up on stage, his bald head glistening under the lights, and took his place behind the drum kit. He turned to the bar. "Hank! C'mon!"

The lanky bass player turned, grabbed his beer by the neck, and took his place.

Evan drew a finger along my cheek, then he was back on stage, hefting up his guitar. Sven strode to the center of the stage, grabbing up his microphone. He threw back his head.

"Are we ready to parrr-tyyyy?"

A roar of enthusiasm bellowed from the crowd, and a wide grin spread on his face. "It's eighties night here in the Club Kasbah, so let's get it started right!"

Evan stepped on a button before him, and when his fingers began moving the sound was sharp, like a synthesized piano. The rhythmic, staccato notes streamed out, and I smiled in recognition.

Sven leant forward, his eyes bright on Kayla's. His voice punched into the lyrics of _Too Much Time on My Hands._

Kayla screamed in delight, and we bounced along the floor next to each other, taking each other for a tango sweep, getting lost in the music. The band synched like clockwork. They flowed from song to song, sliding up a key, maintaining the beat, and our feet never stopped.

The band played straight through for four hours – without a break – and by the time they hit the last song my feet were aching. But I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. I was glowing, beaming, riding a natural high I'd never known existed. Kayla swept Sven up into an enthusiastic embrace as he came off the stage, and I wished I could do the same when Evan came down with his guitar. I was drawn to him as if by a powerful magnet, and it took a force of will to keep the required distance.

Evan looked to Sven before turning to me. "We need to swing down by the room; I have to drop this guitar off and grab the acoustic. We'll meet you by the gangplank?"

Kayla smiled. "Yeah, we should swing by our room, too. Put on some sandals."

Evan looked between us. "All right, then. See you soon." He nudged Sven, and in a moment they were heading out.

Kayla spun me with glee. "Isn't he just perfect?" she gushed. "God, 'Mand, I didn't know men like him existed!" She grabbed my hand. "C'mon, let's get going!"

We half-ran down to our small room, juggling positions as we took turns in the closet of a restroom and dug into the overflowing actual closet for sandals and sarongs to use against the breeze. Then we were piling back out again, laughing as we raced down the hallway to the gangplank.

By the time we made it through the security check, the two men were waiting for us at the end, and my heart pounded against my ribs. There was no denying it. Evan was stunningly handsome. The way the moonlight gleamed on his arms, the rippled build visible through his t-shirt, he drew me in as if he was a custom crafted lure, tested against my very soul.

Sven put his arm out, and Kayla nestled beneath it as if she'd been carved to fit. I flushed and came up alongside Evan, maintaining a slight distance between us. We walked through the small customs building, then down the dock.

Kayla looked up at Sven. "So, where are we going?"

He pointed ahead. "It's just past that snorkel park. Someone we know has beachfront property and has it all set up." We got to the half-moon archway and he drew her in beneath it. "For good luck," he teased, then pulled her in to a hard, passionate kiss.

I blushed, looking away. Every ounce of my soul wanted that to be me and Evan beneath the arch, me falling back in his arms, moaning in bliss.

At last they finished, and we continued on, along the side of the old British naval dockyards, first built in the early eighteen hundreds and only fully decommissioned in 1995. You could see through the roofs of many of the buildings. In the deep shadows of night they had a poignant, almost gothic feeling to them.

Sven looked up ahead. "Ah, here we go." He led us through a series of narrow streets, and we ended up on a shimmering beach drenched in moonlight. A campfire was blazing in the center; a dozen people lounged around it, sipping beer from bottles and poking at the fire.

Kayla squealed. "Oh, Sven, it's perfect!" She pulled him by the hand over to the cooler, grabbing a pair of bottles, and then they sprawled in a heap to one side of the fire.

Evan looked around for a long minute before moving to the cooler and lifting out two bottles by their necks. There was a weathered log pulled up at the edge of the circle, and he settled on that, handing the bottles over to me. Then he unzipped his guitar case and pulled out the acoustic.

The instrument was gorgeous, its face shining in the moonlight; detailed bubinga wood in layers which resembled a woodland landscape.

I sat cross-legged at his side, then reached a hand out to touch the wood. "Where do you get these things?"

He smiled, looking down at me as he tuned it. "California. Where do you get this love of wood?"

I smiled at him. "My grandfather," I explained. "He had this quiet cottage up in Maine, near Machias Seal Island. My parents would drop me off there for a month in the summer, back when he was alive. He could carve playful puffins, sleek cormorants, haughty seagulls, you name it. I would sit there for hours watching him turn a block of wood into a miniature animal which seemed one breath away from life."

He strummed his fingers, sounding a rich chord. "He must have been quite a man."

I nodded. "My father's father – they grew up fairly poor. My grandmother died young, of breast cancer. My Dad kept trying to get Grandpa to give up the cottage, to move down to Lenox with us. But Grandpa resisted to the very end." My mouth quirked up. "He was like me. He would rather live a simple life, on his own terms."

Evan took a sip of his beer. "Good for him."

He sat back, gave a strum, then looked down into my eyes.

There was a richness in them, a deep ache, and I was lost.

His fingers danced over the strings, intricate, lush, in the opening notes of Zeppelin's _Over the Hills and Far Away_.

I sighed. It was stunningly gorgeous. And it was just perfect.

He sang along with it, and where Sven's vocals had been loud, almost brassy, his were low, rich, and resonant.

I could feel each word delve within me, wriggle into the depths of my soul, and take root there. The world shimmered out of focus, and I was drawn along by the music.

He came to the ending strum, and the notes hung in the night air, almost glistening golden in the crackling firelight.

A ripple of applause came from the listeners, and several bottles were raised in a toast.

He smiled at me, and there was shadow in his gaze, a hollow that seemed more than the flickers of flame. Then he strummed a new key, and the first notes of Guns 'N Roses _Patience_ floated over the fire. His whistle joined in, and then the lyrics.

He came around to the chorus, and I felt the meaning echo deep within me.

I needed patience. I needed to hang on.

The song drifted into the ending section, and the whole campfire was singing along, calling out to the glistening stars above. But all I saw was his gaze on me; all I heard was his low, emotion-filled voice, speaking to me alone.

The final strum, and the applause sounded louder.

I looked up at him. "You are amazing, Evan."

He smiled, meeting my gaze. Then his eyes rose higher – and stilled.

I turned, following his look.

Hank, the lanky bass player, was at the far edge of the campfire. A slim, bony girl with long, auburn hair was sprawled across him, watching him with attentive interest. He had a tourniquet on his upper arm and was focused on the needle that he was carefully placing against the skin.

My stomach roiled, twisted, and suddenly all I could see was Tanya, her hair nearly that same shade, sprawled in her own vomit. Her eyes stared at the ceiling, glassy, unmoving. Her skin was cold ... so cold ...

I was on my feet, racing down the beach, my sandals pounding into the sand, tears streaming down my face. There was nothing but the pain coursing through me, the surf washing alongside me, and I was lost ... lost ...

A strong arm grabbed a hold of my hand, turned me, and pulled me in.

I collapsed against Evan's chest, sobbing, and he held me against him. His hand came up to twine in my hair. "Shhhh, it's all right, I'm here."

It seemed that my pain would never end, that the ache within me was wider than any ocean. But at last the tears settled, and I blinked to look around. The campfire was nowhere in sight. We were alone on a stretch of sand. A grassy bank was to one side, and a thick stand of trees separated us from whatever lay beyond.

He walked me over to the grass, helping me to sit before joining me. His eyes were shadowed. "Amanda, I'm so sorry."

I wiped at my face. "I'm the one who should apologize. I know people do these things. I just ... I haven't seen anyone using since that day. It brought everything back." I drew in a breath. "I should be over it," I insisted. "I should have forgotten all about it and moved on."

"No," he stated, "No, you don't just move on."

"I don't know how to explain it," I continued, "losing someone like that. It's like a hole, gnawing, and ..." I shook my head. "You can't understand."

He stilled and looked down the stretch of empty beach. He was silent for a long minute. Then he said, in a low voice, "I understand about loss."

Something in his voice had me look up. "Oh?"

His gaze shadowed. "This needs to be private, between you and me."

I nodded. "Of course, Evan."

He took my hand. "I grew up in a working-class Irish family. My mom was a teacher, my dad a cop, and there were five of us kids stuffed into two bedrooms. Looking back I can see we were barely getting by, but at the time it just seemed the way things should be. My dad was larger than life, holding everything together, always there for us. Building ramps for our bikes, taking us fishing, you name it. He was the one thing in the messed-up world we could rely on."

He twined his fingers into mine. "I was about fifteen when I was home with my mom, because she was taking me in for a check-up on my broken arm. My brother thought he was a MMA fighter and managed to snap my forearm doing a move on me. We were just arriving home and settling into the living room when the knock came on the door."

His fingers tightened. "She knew. Somehow she knew, just from the knock, and she stared at the door, as if ignoring it would change the course of time. As if, if she didn't go and answer it, everything would be all right. I stayed next to her, knowing something was wrong, and knowing the best I could do was be strong for her."

He dipped his head. "They knocked again, and she finally went to open the door. And there the brass was, in their best suits, their hats in their hands."

His voice grew tight. "My father had been shot in the line of duty. He wasn't coming home again."

My heart ached, and for a moment I couldn't breathe. "Evan, I'm so sorry."

"My mother, and my little sister, Kate, were lost without my dad. My two younger brothers went different ways. The fighter got wilder; the fisherman became even more withdrawn. It was up to me and my older brother to hold things together, to keep the family going. We never had the luxury to grieve."

He looked down at me. "But you never move on, Amanda. You never forget it. You might find ways of coping, you might find ways of coming to terms with what happened. But it's always a part of you. It's always a piece of what makes you _you._ "

I nodded to him. "But how do you do that?"

He drew his fingers down my cheek. "You find a way to honor their memory. You find something to do with your life that keeps what was important to them alive. Maybe you find a way to ensure their dream continues, or that your dream for them is realized."

I drew in a breath. "Well, I've always wanted to write a poem for her, but I didn't think it would be good enough."

He brushed back my hair. "Amanda, I'm sure that she would have loved whatever you created for her."

An idea came to me, and I looked up at him. "If I wrote it, would you put some music to it? Tanya adored music."

A distant look came to his eyes, and he smiled. "I would be honored to help."

I leaned up and pressed my lips against his.

I had meant for it to be a simple thank-you. A quick brush to show my appreciation for his offer. But when my lips touched his, glowing electricity shimmered out, down my neck, through my chest, and flowing out to the tips of my fingers and toes.

I moaned with pleasure.

His hands came down to my upper arms, holding me there, and he wavered. I couldn't tell if he was preparing to push me away or to bring me in further.

Desire welled within me, rich, hot, coursing like liquid lava, and I opened my mouth to him.

He groaned, soul-deep, and I could feel him teetering on the edge.

Our tongues met.

He pulled me in, hard, his tongue swirling against mine, and I gasped at the power of it, the force of heat which flooded through my body. He rolled with me, pressing me down into the grass with his body, and my leg slid up against his thigh of its own accord. He trailed his hand down my leg, easing my turquoise dress up to my waist, dancing his fingers along my black panties.

He groaned as he reached the middle. "God, Amanda, you are soaked."

I could feel it, feel the hardness of my nipples pressing out against my bra, and I wanted to get out of these constrictive clothes. I sat up, and he straddled me, pulling my dress up off the top of my head. He gazed down at my black lace bra, his eyes shining in the moonlight.

"Oh, Amanda, you are gorgeous."

He rolled, taking me with him, and then I was straddling him, rocking my pelvis against the firm outline of his cock in his jeans. He groaned with pleasure, reaching to pull his shirt loose and strip it up over his head. I bent down, squeezing my thighs together at his hips, brushing my bra-held breasts along the ripples of his chest.

His hands came up behind my back, undid the clasp, and he slid his hands around to the front, easing them beneath the fabric to cup my breasts.

I groaned with the contact of his skin against mine, then shrugged my arms out of the straps. He tossed the bra to the side, then lifted me up so my nipple dangled in front of his mouth. He drew it in, licking it, sucking it, and the cool breeze on the wet tip made it harden even more, until it was a beacon of pleasure.

I groaned, and he slid his hands along my waist, back to cup my ass, and he pulled me over so the other breast was at his mouth. His tongue made circles around the tip, and then he gave it a soft bite.

My groan was louder, deeper.

He rolled me so my back was on the grass, and then he knelt over me, his hands back at my hips, sliding down my black panties until they were off. Then he stood over me, just in his jeans, the hardness of his cock clearly outlined. He stood there, gazing down my length, soaking in the way my naked body shone in the moonlight.

His voice was hoarse. "You are amazing, Amanda."

He put his hands to his belt, undoing the buckle, then the zipper. He gave a tug, and then the jeans slid down his muscular thighs, revealing his black briefs. I soaked in the sight of him, the glory of his muscular body outlined against the star-studded night sky.

His hands moved to the waistband of his briefs ... and stopped.

His voice was tight with desire, and his eyes were shadowed. "Amanda ... Amanda, are you sure you want this? I won't be back in Boston for –"

"I'll wait for you," I vowed. "If we have just this one night, and then you're gone for three more months, I can wait." My throat closed up. "I've already been waiting for you for so long ..."

He groaned, his briefs slid to the ground, and he stood before me in all his naked glory. My body vibrated with desire, with need for him.

He dropped to one knee by his pants, taking out a foil pouch, slipping on the condom. Then he had rolled to straddle me, an arm on either side, and his gaze was deeper than I'd ever experienced in my life.

He rocked his hips so his head pressed, ever so gently, against my opening.

His voice was barely a whisper, it was so tight with restraint. "Amanda, you're sure?"

I slid my legs up his, hooking them behind his ass, and squeezed, drawing him into me. I groaned at the feeling of him pressing into me, expanding me, filling me.

A ragged sigh rolled out of him, and he finished the plunge, pushing himself fully into me, deeply, his pelvis coming up against me, sensation billowing to every corner of my body.

I lifted my head to meet his, and his mouth opened on mine. Our tongues, hot, wet, mingled, and the cool island breeze brought every inch of my skin to life.

He bit at my neck, and I groaned, arching up harder into him. He brought a hand down to squeeze my nipple, twisting it, and the sensation ratcheted me up higher.

His voice was low against my ear, a growl. "Let me hear you, baby." He drove into me again, harder, and my cry was primal, guttural.

"There you go", he praised with deep satisfaction. "Our harmony." He thrust deeper, my breath groaned out of me, and he let his voice join mine, echoing in my ears. My clit buzzed with sensation and I wrapped my body around his, pulling him in faster, deeper, arching into him. My voice rose high out of me, merging with his groans. Our bodies slammed harder, slick with sweat, salty, and the world was falling away, far beneath me, and I was soaring ... soaring ...

Silver moonlight burst around me, my body arched hard, and a wordless cry echoed across the beach as I lost all sense of self. There were just waves of soul-deep pleasure, rocking me, making every cell glow with brilliance. Evan was within me, intertwined, comingled, and I couldn't tell where I ended and he began.

Then, at long last, I floated down, like an autumn leaf shaking loose from the highest point on an oak and swirling, spinning, easing through countless thermals before finally settling to rest on a soft bed of pine needles.

His weight settled down against my chest, and I soaked it in, nestling my head against his. I could lie like this for an eternity.

At last he rolled to the side, his eyes shining in the moonlight. He reached out a hand to gently brush my hair away from my face. His voice was a low vow.

"I'll come for you, Amanda. When this is all over and behind us, I swear I'll come for you."

# Chapter 8

The campfire's soft glow grew larger as we approached it, and I steeled myself to not be affected by the drug usage. Those two were living their own lives, and I was far from perfect. I shouldn't be judging others on where they were in their own struggles.

Thank God.

My shoulders eased with relief as we approached the glowing embers. There were only a trio of older men talking quietly at one side of the remains of the fire. Apparently we'd been gone longer than I'd thought.

The men looked up as we approached. One of them scratched at his neck before speaking. "Hey, you Evan? Your friend said he'd take your guitar back to your room for you." His eyes lit up with amusement. "Guess you and that girl of yours were ... occupied."

I blushed, but Evan just nodded to them. "Thanks, guys. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

He put his hand on my back, and we moved on. The Bermuda night was quiet around us as we made our way through the narrow alleys, wending our way back to the larger dockyard buildings.

I slipped my arm around his waist as we moved into the shadows of one of the run-down larger buildings. He drew me in close, pressing a kiss on my forehead. His voice was rough. "Amanda, you know we will need to stay distant once we get back on the ship. Starting tomorrow afternoon, we need to keep at arm's length. Like Catholic kids at a school dance."

"I know," I insisted, although saying the words twisted within me. It was going to be a test of my endurance, to be near him and not able to touch him, to kiss him, to ...

He slowed, and I glanced up at him in curiosity. I could feel it viscerally, how his body sharpened, how his muscles rippled into steeled readiness.

Tension shafted through me, and I turned to look ahead. My breath caught in my throat.

A trio of well-built men were striding toward us, laughing, beer bottles in hand. The swaggering motion in their strides indicated that this was probably not their first drink of the night.

Jeff was at the center, his orange polo shirt glowing out like a warning sign. _Danger Ahead._

My stomach roiled with sick dread.

The men on either side of Jeff were about his height and build, dressed in dark t-shirts and jeans. I wondered if they were who Jeff had come on the cruise with.

Jeff glanced up as we drew closer, his eyes narrowed, and he staggered to a stop. His grip closed in on his bottle.

"Jesus Christ, Amanda! Do you know what time it is? And you're out with this bastard again?" His eyes narrowed as he looked between us. "Don't tell me you really are fucking him? Good God, Amanda, he's gonna use you up, then move on to the next spread-legs whore in the morning! Don't you get it?"

Evan took a step in front of me, shielding me with his body, his voice low and steady. "I'm taking her back to the ship, Jeff. You just head on wherever it is you're going."

Jeff took a step in front of his two friends, his face darkening. "You don't fucking tell me what to do, you asshole. Amanda is mine." His neck went taut. "I'm going to make sure she doesn't forget it again."

Evan's fingers flexed. His voice steeled. "You're not going to lay a hand on Amanda."

Jeff snapped his wrist to the side, and the bottle in his hand exploded against the stone wall with a sharp burst of liquid and glass. He settled the neck firmly into his right hand, his eyes gleaming with fury.

"You just try to stop me, you Mick. We should never have let you come out of those ditches and slums. Think you're good enough for decent women now." He gave a barking laugh. "We'll see what she thinks of you when you're groveling on the ground, mewling like a kicked puppy."

Evan took another step forward, creating space between me and him. "Jeff, you want to stop before someone gets hurt."

Jeff waved the bottle before him with a bright laugh. "I'll have you know, I'll be a black belt in Shotokan karate in a year or two. So when you're picking your teeth up off the ground, you'll know what excuse to give all your friends."

He crept toward Evan, crouching, his eyes glowing.

Then he lunged.

Evan spun to the side, grabbed Jeff's wrist, and gave it a sharp twist. Jeff screamed in agony, dropping to one knee.

His voice was high with fury. "He broke my fucking wrist! Get him!"

The other two men charged in hard. Evan grabbed the arm of the one on the right, spun with his momentum, and slammed him head-first into the stone wall of the building. He then continued turning, bringing his outside foot around in a roundhouse kick, driving it hard into the other man's groin.

Both men groaned, collapsing to the ground.

Evan balanced on the balls of his feet, alert, watching all three.

For a long moment the only sound was the groaning wheeze of the man whose nuts were newly relocated.

Then Jeff gave himself a shake, drawing himself to standing. He cradled his hand against his body, glaring at Evan with fury. "You fucking Paddy. I'll make you pay – and then Amanda will wish she never slummed with you. She'll see what happens when a woman cheats on her man."

I found my voice and stepped up beside Evan. " _You_ broke up with _me_ ," I reminded Jeff, my throat tight. "By text! And you cleared out your stuff!"

"That was just temporary," he snapped back. "Now the company has laid me off. Said I didn't fit well with their group. Fucking assholes. So I'm back in Boston, rooming with these two guys."

"I really don't care! You're out of my life. You need to stay there!"

He spit on the ground. "This musician of yours probably makes pennies a day," he continued. "You need a guy who can treat you right. Me and my friends, we're in investment banking now. We've already got a number of these rich old farts on the cruise interested in signing up with us. Just like Mikey promised." He nudged his head at the man leaning against the wall.

I gave a snort. Jeff had barely passed his classes, and I was surprised he'd graduated. I wouldn't let the man anywhere near my bank accounts.

I raked my gaze over Jeff. "Treating me right has nothing to do with money," I shot back. "Something you would never understand."

Mikey staggered to his feet, blearily blinking his eyes. "Hey, man, I thought you said this girl was all over you. That she'd come crawling back to your door."

Jeff's eyes shot daggers. "Yeah, well, she's stupid. She'll just take some smartening up."

The other man slowly righted himself, his face green. "I'm not interested in finding those whores any more. I don't care how cheap they are. I'm going back to the ship."

He started staggering in that direction. Mikey took one last look at Jeff, then joined his friend.

Jeff looked after the two in furious frustration, then turned back to Evan. "You haven't heard the last of this," he snarled. "I wonder if this ship of yours has a brig. Let's see if you can fuck her through the bars." Then he turned and strode off into the darkness.

I swallowed hard, my heart beating against my ribs as the enormity of what just happened sunk in. "Oh, God, Evan, I'm so sorry. I should have –"

He turned, shaking his head, reaching out a hand to me. "You're doing it again."

I blinked in confusion. "Doing what?"

He pulled me in against him. "Apologizing for him. For what he does."

"But this is all my fault," I insisted. "If only –"

"If only what?" he interrupted. "You can't go back in time. You can't undo your relationship with him. We were walking down a public street, and you didn't do anything wrong." His eyes shadowed. "I'm just glad I was here with you. If he had caught you alone, who knows what he might have done."

I looked up at him in concern. "But what if he causes trouble for you on the ship?"

His mouth quirked up in a smile. "You let me worry about that. I have no regrets at all about tonight." He traced my face with his fingers. "You deserve someone to watch over you."

I twined my fingers into his hair. "You're my knight in shining armor."

His voice thickened. "And you're my –"

He dropped his head and nuzzled his lips against my neck. For a long moment he just held me there, his breath coming in long draws, as if he were breathing in my scent. Then his mouth opened against the soft skin of my throat. His tongue darted out, tracing a path, and he pressed his lips harder, sucking in.

A shaft of pleasure coursed through me at the sensation, and I melted against him, groaning.

A shudder went through him, as if some internal restraint was slipped loose. He turned me in his arms, pressing my back against the stone wall, his mouth moving to my lips. His kiss deepened, lengthened, and my hands twined deeper into his thick hair.

I wanted him. He had fought for me, protected me, and I wanted ...

He groaned as I pressed my breasts hard into his body, and his voice was tight with effort. "Amanda, I think –"

"Don't think," I urged, my heart pounding, my blood pumping. "I need you ... Please, Evan ..."

His groan was deeper this time, and he glanced quickly in both directions before driving his body hard against mine, his mouth pinning mine in place, his kiss wrenching me into another dimension. His hands slid my dress up to my waist, then with one quick motion stripped my panties down to the ground.

I gasped at the brisk air on my sex, the moisture sending bursts of sensation through me, aching, craving more than I'd wanted anything before in my life.

His mouth pressed me to the wall, while his hands flew to his buckle, his zipper. His jeans slid down his legs, then his briefs followed. There was the sound of foil ripping, a motion –

His shaft drove, hard and quick, deep into my core.

I gasped with pleasure and shock and desire, arching against him. I didn't care we were on a public street. I didn't care about anything beyond him and me and this need which was building like a volcano.

He eased out of me, his eyes glowing with dark heat. "Tell me you want me," he murmured. "Tell me you want me to take you like this, take you now." His cock throbbed against my opening, nearly sending me over the edge.

I groaned, deep within me, nearly beyond words. My voice was a guttural cry. "Take me," I pleaded. "I need you ... I need ..."

His hands came around my ass, lifting me up higher. I wrapped my legs around his waist, and he came in again, harder this time, slamming me back against the wall, and my moan was deeper, shaking me to my core.

His breath was hot and heavy in my ear, his exhales groaning with desire. "God, Amanda, I would do anything for you. I would ..." He slammed in again, shuddering, and I craved him, needed him ...

He pulled out, balancing right at the edge, and it was more than I could bear.

I twined my fingers into his hair. My voice was a plea. "Fuck me."

His groan was deep, his muscles rippling, and he drove into me. "Ask me again."

My voice grew richer, rougher. "Fuck me."

His hip rocked again, his solid legs driving him forward, his breath coming in thick gasps. "Again."

"Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me ..."

He cried out, a groan of triumph and desire and longing, and he slammed into me, and his burst blew away all thoughts, all emotions, all sensations into a blinding white light, one that stretched my skin out until I encompassed the universe. I was the sun, and he was the streaming rainbow, and we were colliding, intermingling, and coalescing into something new and wondrous.

At long last I blinked my eyes open. His eyes held mine, shining, and it took my breath away.

A cool breeze tickled across us, and it sent shivers from the sweat glistening over every inch of my body. We separated, and I bent over to pull my panties back up. I smoothed my dress down into place.

Evan was just buckling his buckle up when there was the sound of an engine. A middle-aged cop on a scooter came casually around the corner. He slowed as he approached us.

"You two ok?"

Evan nodded. "Yes, officer. Just heading back to the ship."

The cop smiled genially. "All right then. Just be careful around here. There's broken glass."

Evan's face didn't flinch. "Thank you, sir. We'll keep an eye out."

The cop waved and drove on out of sight.

Evan slid his arm around my waist. "Let's get you back to your room, before you can use those vixen charms on me a third time in one night."

My eyes glowed with heat. "Three times in one night?"

He turned to look at me, his eyes went distant, and he shook his head. "How could Jeff have ever let you go?"

I slid my fingers up through his hair. My voice grew hoarse. "He did it so I could become yours."

He closed his eyes, leant his forehead against mine, and the world fell away.

# Chapter 9

I walked back and forth across the beach at Snorkel Park, glancing at my watch, trying to fight down the stream of chaotic thoughts which roiled around me.

He wasn't coming. He had been thrown in the brig. He had decided I was too much trouble to deal with. He'd had his fun with me, and he'd moved on to another eager young groupie. He'd run into Jeff again, and this time he'd been outnumbered six to one. He'd –

There were footsteps, I looked up, and he was there.

I ran to him, relief coursing through me, and he drew me in, wrapping his arms around me. I found I was shaking, and couldn't bring myself to stop.

My voice came out in a tremble. "I thought ... I thought you weren't going to come."

He drew back, sliding a hand down my hair, his eyes shining. "I will always come for you," he promised. "You deserve someone in your life you can rely on."

"But last night with Jeff," I countered. "They could report you to your captain, get you thrown off the ship, or worse!"

"They threw the first punch," he pointed out, "and the second. But in any case, they don't seem to have reported anything. My guess is they're embarrassed about getting beaten up in a three-on-one fight. Maybe they'll let it go."

My voice dropped with worry. "Jeff isn't the kind to let it go. He's the kind to find some more friends and a dark alley."

His mouth quirked into a smile. "I'll be ready for them," he promised. He reached into a pocket, bringing out a baggie of fish food. "In the meantime, are you ready for our swim?"

The silver porgies were as enthusiastic as the first time we played with them, the parrot fish crunched away on their coral, and the little sergeant-majors zipped around us, aglow with bright curiosity. This time it was nearly two hours before hunger drove me to reluctantly come up out of the shimmering depths of my Eden.

I glowed with contented delight as we walked up out of the water. "These have been the best two days of my life," I vowed, sighing. "I never would have thought snorkeling would be so much fun."

The corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. "Oh? Is it only the time in the water that has you enjoying these past few days?"

The look in his eyes made me flush with heat. His lips were right there, so ready for kissing, and I had to turn away. There were more people here today, scattered on blankets on the beach, and I couldn't get him into even more trouble than I already had.

He chuckled, then walked up to the small bar area. He called over to the elderly black woman behind the counter. "Hey there, Suzie. Did Rico drop off that cooler for me?"

She drew a small, soft-sided blue cooler up and put it on the counter. She added a large beach towel to it. "Sure did, Evan. You two have fun."

He took both and guided me over to the left, to a quieter section of the beach. He laid out the navy blue towel, and in a moment we were sitting on it, facing each other.

His voice was warm. "I hope you like peanut butter and jelly."

I laughed. "Sure. I suppose it's one of those comfort food things I never grew out of."

He pulled out a pair of small bottles of Champagne, and with a quick twist both of them were open. Then he laid out a pair of small white plastic plates, and onto each he placed a wheat-bread sandwich, neatly cut at the diagonal.

He raised his bottle to me, and I took mine up. He clinked the edge of the glass against mine. "To patience."

I smiled, nodding. "To patience."

The bubbly was lovely – cool, fresh, with a hint of peach flavor. I smiled and took a bite of my sandwich.

Wow.

I looked up at him in surprise. "This is amazing!"

He grinned, taking a bite of his own. "A local woman makes them. She picks the blueberries fresh from her own back yard, all organic. She grinds her own peanut butter. She even bakes her own bread."

I savored the flavors in my mouth. "This is better than some of the dishes at my parents' favorite restaurant!"

The shine in his eyes dimmed, and he looked down at his bottle for a moment. His voice became low. "Amanda, I know things are all confused right now. I can't treat you the way you deserve. If you can just wait for me, until I get through this tour and am back in Boston –"

I leant forward, putting my hand on his. "God, Evan, I don't care about any of that. I've heard you play. You're a talented musician. I'm sure once you get back on your feet, and come home, that something will work out."

His eyes seemed shadowed. "I know it looks bad for me. But I swear, this will all make sense when I come home to you. I'm not one of those wastrels who will crash on your couch and dig through your fridge. I'll be able to treat you right."

I squeezed his hand. "You already do, Evan. I've seen your work ethic with the band, with how you give every gig your full attention and effort. You don't cut out on gigs early, and you'd play encores all night if they wanted it. You help the waiters clear tables. It's clear the staff adore you." I smiled at him. "We'll make it work. I know we will."

He gave a wry smile. "I wish I'd met you a few years ago. There's this restaurant in Boston I would have taken you to, to celebrate our first date. It's a special place. Locke-Ober. It's around the corner from the state house, and their steaks ..." He let out a breath. "Stunning. But they shut down."

I nodded. "And I could have taken you to see the Nutcracker at the Wang Theater. It's a breathtaking venue, with elegant gold scrollwork. You could just imagine men in tuxes and women in long, golden gowns moving their way to their seats. And, best of all, it's right around the corner from Jacob Wirth's – an authentic German restaurant."

He grinned. "I guess that was a tradition of yours, around the holidays?"

"It was, indeed. It was all just perfect. I'd wait the entire performance for the Arabian dance. The sensual, flowing music ..." A sigh eased out of me. "It was just right."

He raised an eyebrow. "Why'd it stop?"

I shrugged. "I think the Wang wanted something more modern and flashy than the Nutcracker, and kicked out the Boston Ballet. I know I was heartbroken that year, and every year since then I miss it."

His eyes held mine. "I should be done and settled just before Christmas. Maybe we could see them, wherever they are now?"

My heart lifted. "Really? You'd go with me? They're at the Boston Opera House now. I just couldn't bring myself to go, but if you were to come along ..."

He nodded. "Absolutely. Jacob Wirth's and then the Nutcracker. And there'll be snow falling. A traditional New England white Christmas."

I looked into his eyes, and time fell away.

At last he gathered up the remnants of our meal, bringing the cooler and towel over to the woman at the booth. "Thanks so much, Suzie," he smiled at her, handing over a ten with the items. "Get yourself a jar of that jam for yourself."

She smiled a grin which was missing a few teeth but was full of good will. "You two take care, now."

My steps slowed as we rounded the last corner and the ship came into view before us. Our moments together were constricting, narrowing, and it seemed if only we could turn around, that we could reverse time, snatch more seconds in each other's arms.

We reached the wishing arch, and he paused, turning to look at me.

My throat grew tight, and I nervously glanced around. "We shouldn't ..."

His gaze swept down me, his voice thickening. "I shouldn't have let us come this far as it is," he countered roughly. His shoulders flexed as if he were struggling with internal voices. "What's one more ..."

He drew me in, our lips met, and I melted into him, my body coming alight. Only one thought rang in my head, taking over all others.

I would wait forever.

At last he pulled back, looking down at me, his body wavering as if he would draw me in again. Then he exhaled and turned, setting us in motion again.

"You are magnetic," he murmured. "You are made of witchcraft and moondust."

"And you," I countered, sliding my hand along his bare skin at his back, "You are rippling muscle and the fingers of a god."

He grinned at that. "Then you might enjoy what I have in store for you."

Wild hope leapt in my chest. "I thought this afternoon was it, until you came home to Boston?"

His eyes held mine, vibrant with desire. "There's still a few more hours left in the afternoon."

Heat blossomed in my breasts, settled down deep within my sex, and my heart hammered.

He guided me through customs, then security, then we got into the elevator, taking it to the top. My brows raised in curiosity as we reached the doors to the spa area of the ship.

"I have a friend who works in here," he murmured as we walked past the front desk. "He's letting me borrow his room. Turns out his afternoon client wanted a more ... intimate setting for a massage."

He pushed open the door.

The room was elegantly decorated in muted cornflower blue and lavender. Soft music was playing in sweeping chords. The gentle fragrance of rose drifted through the air. LED candles flickered from a number of surfaces.

I sighed. "Oh, Evan, it's beautiful."

Evan closed the door behind us and turned the lock. Then he waved at the massage table. His voice took on a slightly formal tone, as if I were a client, and he was simply here to provide my booked hour-long massage time. "Please, miss, if you would remove all your garments and lie face-down on the massage table, we can get started. I'll turn my back as you get ready."

He turned and, as indicated, stared placidly at the wall.

My body flushed with heat. I'd gotten massages over the years, but never from a masseuse who looked quite like this. And never in a situation where ...

My sex grew moist just at the thought, and I quickly stripped out of my clothes, piling them on the chair in the corner. I climbed onto the table and put my face into the cushioned ring at the far end. My hair draped down around the edges, creating a curtain which hid the room from view.

His fingers pressed, warm, firm, against the muscles in my upper back. "And now we'll begin with ..." He paused, then pressed again, as if testing the muscle. His voice lost some of its distant formality, merging into surprise. "Good God, Amanda, your trapezius muscles are amazing!"

I grinned, flexing them for him. "The butterfly stroke," I informed him. "Does wonders for your upper arms and back."

"You're not kidding," he murmured, pressing his fingers along the length in a probing manner. Then he coughed and his tone regained its smooth tone. "I shall endeavor to remove some of these knots from your nicely toned muscles, miss."

My mouth was in a wide grin. "You do so, and you might get a nice tip when we're through."

I could feel his chuckle shimmer in his fingers. "Well, perhaps we'll try this ..."

His fingers slid, pressed in deep, and a delicious ache plummeted through me, digging right through my core. My breasts firmed against the cool sheets. I groaned at the sensation.

His voice had a light lilt to it. "Was that too hard, miss?"

"Oh, no, no," I moaned. "That was just right."

"Hmmm, maybe you would then like ..."

His thumbs dug into that sweet spot right in the core of my trapezius, where the aches always seemed to develop, and I was in agonized pleasure, wanting it to go on forever. My moan was even deeper.

"That's right," he murmured. "Let it all out. These rooms are fairly well soundproofed." His voice gained a lightness, as if he were grinning. "They have to – they offer Rolfing sessions here. Those can be fairly ... noisy."

He sunk his fingers along my spine, and I gave up on holding in the moans. It seemed everywhere he touched soaked in his presence as if it had craved him for years.

Down ... down ... his fingers reached my ass and traced around the curves, the light touch sending my entire body into a shimmering tingle. I wanted him everywhere at once. My thoughts lost their coherency, and I was simply adrift in a sea of sensation, an ocean of desire, and his hands were my guiding star.

The fingers moved to my foot, and I had never dreamed that pressure on my inner arch could cause such intense pleasure. I was lucky I was lying flat on the massage table, for I doubted any limb could hold me upright. He worked his way up my calf, to that tender place behind my knee, and now my moans were coming with each breath, were the soundtrack to his every move. The background music, the scent of rose, the flickering candles, all of it faded into the background. There were only his fingers. Only his hands, only ...

He slid his hand along my hip, easing the fingers around to my stomach, and my groan grew louder. His other hand pushed in beneath my chest, moving to cup my breast. His fingers brushed against my hard nipple, and the ache in me grew to encompass the world.

His body pressed against me, and I could feel the warmth of his skin, smell the richness of his scent, and I soaked it in. His hand at my breast pressed and rolled my nipple, while the other at my hip slid ... traced ... pressed ...

His finger found my clit.

I pressed my hips down hard against the finger, craving it with all of my being, and his other hand squeezed hard on my nipple. I was beyond words. The cry from me was primal, echoing from my deepest reservoirs.

His finger in my sex slid through the thick moisture there, gently strumming a rhythm which echoed the beat of my heart.

I could not think. I could not speak. All I knew is I wanted him, I wanted this, I was totally and helplessly and fully his. I was drowning in a sea of absolute pleasure and I wanted ... I wanted ...

His lips brushed my ear, and his voice was hoarse, rough with desire. "I've got you, my love. I've got you."

His finger thrummed, spun, and then he lifted me up.

I was released.

I was soaring, flying, completely free, lost in a golden sunrise which knew no end. I was suspended in his arms, and I knew he would never drop me, would never let me go. There was a long, ecstatic cry echoing around me, and I ached with the beauty of it.

Time became lost.

At long, long last, he lowered me onto the crisp sheets, and they felt like the softest clouds I had ever nestled within. His hand was still at my breast, his other against my sex, and I radiated heat against those points, connected in a way I'd never thought possible.

It seemed hours before I could lift my head, could turn to look back at where he stood beside me. He was completely naked, a dark god there for my pleasure.

I soaked him in. "I don't know how I am going to match that for you."

His gaze was distant, as if he'd been in a far away land. The corner of his mouth turned up, and he drew his hand from my breast, bringing it around to rest possessively on my ass. His other remained cupped around my sex.

"You won't."

My eyes lit up. "Is that a challenge?"

He chuckled, shaking his head. "I am going to stay just like this until I come for you in Boston."

I glanced down to the hard cock throbbing in place. "Like that?"

His eyes sparkled. "It won't always be that visible, but I am going to be in a constant craving for you. This is to remind me of what I am waiting for. Of why I have to get through what is to come, and get back home to you."

He slid a finger inside me, and I groaned. His cock jerked in response, and his voice became hoarse. "You make sure to remember me, too."

I could barely speak. "As if I could possibly forget."

He slid his finger deeper, and his voice became a low growl. "Good."

# Chapter 10

My dress was sea green, the color of our porgie paradise, and when I walked into the club his gaze drew to me as if by a magnet. He soaked me in for a long moment, as if my presence would sustain him like oxygen. And then his gaze firmed, and he took in a deep breath. He dropped his eyes, his fingers deliberately taking the steps to tune his guitar.

My heart thundered against my chest as I made my way over to the table on the side of the stage. If he could do this, then I could as well. He was mine, I was his, and in a few short months we would be able to begin our life together. Until then, I was blessed by being able to see him – even if at a distance – for our few remaining days.

There were thousands of couples in the military striving daily to maintain long distance relationships while dealing with the stress of battle zones and other disasters. Those pairs had it infinitely worse off than I did. I knew my man was in little peril, and he would come home to me. I was sure we could touch base with email and phone calls ... maybe even a Skype session or two.

A smile danced on my lips, and my body warmed at the thought of what those might entail.

Kayla bounced over to me, her electric blue dress practically tattooed on her body. She plunked a flute of Champagne in front of me, then drank down half of her own. "Sven's going to take me to a club onshore once the gig is over," she announced. "We'll finally get to dance together! Not that I mind watching him sing, of course, but sometimes I just want to touch him!"

She grinned at me. "You and Evan should come! I hear sometimes the officers even show up, to let loose some steam."

I took a sip of my Champagne. Evan needed to keep our relationship low key. He had asked for us to stay distant from this point forward. The last thing he'd want was for me to tag along to party and dance where the ship's officers were present.

For a moment a flash of envy zapped through me. Kayla didn't even realize how lucky she was, being able to enjoy Sven so openly. Sven's years of tenure had earned him privileges that Evan could only dream of.

I pushed the thoughts away. Sven might have that one perk – but when Kayla stepped off the ship, Sven would move on. He would find another groupie, sail another tour, and be lost.

My Evan was coming home to me.

I smiled. I could endure anything, last through any short term loss, to reach that happy ending.

I toasted to Kayla. "You two will have a blast," I assured her. "I think I'll sleep in tonight. Tomorrow afternoon we leave Bermuda, and I want to be able to spend as much time as possible snorkeling before we sail for home."

Her eyes danced. "You and those fish," she teased. "I think you were a mermaid in another life, with all that swimming you do."

There was movement on stage, and we both turned. Sven stepped up to the microphone, wearing a Boston Red Sox jersey over jeans. His voice billowed across the club, rich and resonate. "Who's ready to dance!"

The room shook with the resounding cheers.

The drum kicked in, and Sven's voice snapped out the lyrics from Maroon 5's _Love Somebody._

I looked up at the stage, and Evan's eyes were right on mine. His fingers moved, his left hand pressed in the chords, and through the music he was connected to me. Connected in a way that nothing would sever.

Kayla grabbed my hand. "C'mon!"

We danced, and danced, and I knew in my very core that everything would be all right. Evan's music moved through me, coursed through my soul. If for now this was all we could have, that would be enough. If it was just his music, his voice, and his connection which sustained me until he came home to me, I would treasure what we had. So many had far less than us.

The evening spun by, wrapped in cotton candy bliss, and by the end I didn't mind when Kayla ran up to Sven, when he wrapped her in a hug right there for the entire world to see. I turned to Evan and I knew. I knew from the look in his eyes that what we had would stand the test. It would endure the separation, and when he came home to me, it would sustain for a lifetime.

The corner of his mouth turned up in acknowledgement, his gaze holding mine for a long, meaningful moment. Then he looked down, drawing open his case and beginning his take-down.

I turned and left the club, moving quickly back to my room. I was riding the euphoric high, and I wanted to get to safety while I was still firmly within its grips. I didn't want to tempt myself, not give myself the opportunity to hang around with Evan after their equipment was packed up, to somehow get drawn out by Kayla on her nighttime escapade. I knew this was important to Evan, to maintain our distance, and I would do everything in my power to support him. It was all he asked of me until he came home to me.

Came home to us.

The moment I got into the cabin I put on my pajamas, further buffering me from any temptation. I grabbed up my notebook, climbed into bed, and decided to journal about everything that had happened. Who knew, perhaps in years in the future I would treasure this – the record of our very first days together.

To my surprise the words flowed, expanded, and I was even including short rhyming phrases to go with the images. That first time we talked, above the ship's wake. The soul-brightening delight of our first encounter with the silver porgies. The rich brilliance of our making love on the beach.

I was swept away by how easily the phrases streamed from the pen. I'd always craved being a poet, but I never had thought the words were in there. I seemed better at carefully noting figures and symbols in a grid. But somehow something had become unlocked, released, and the pages turned ...

Brrrrring!

I looked at my phone in surprise. I'd turned it back on when we reached Bermuda, just in case there was some sort of family emergency. My heart pounded against my chest. Was something wrong with my mom or dad?

I snatched up the phone, barely glancing at it. "Yes?"

Kayla's voice was a long slur. "Ammranda?"

I held the phone back, glancing at the time on it. Four a.m. How had it gotten that late?

I brought the unit back to my ear. "Kayla? Where are you?"

"I'm at the club. I can't find Sven." Confusion echoed in every word. "'Man-dah, I don't know ..."

"All right, all right," I reassured her. Clearly the woman could barely walk. "I'll be right there. Where are you?"

"Hammerhead," she mumbled.

"Stay put. I'll find you." I hung up and did a quick search on my phone. Thank God, it was only a short distance from the ship. I tossed on sweats and a t-shirt, then headed on out.

The streets were quiet under the glowing moonlight; it was only a few minutes before I came up to the bar. It was packed with stumbling, loud-talking tourists. I imagined the passengers were getting as much drinking as possible in on this bucolic island before we headed out tomorrow afternoon.

An electric blue shape shone out from the bar, and I made my way through to it.

Kayla's eyes were barely open. She blinked blearily at me as I approached. "There you are, 'Mand. Thought you forgot about me."

"I came as quickly as I could," I promised. "Let's get you home and in bed." The corner of my mouth quirked up into a smile. "You're going to regret this in the morning, you know."

She pressed a hand to her head. "I regret it already," she grumbled. "Can't believe Sven bailed on me. Phone rang, and he was off."

I tucked my shoulder under her arm. "Yeah, well, we can worry about that tomorrow, hun. Right now, it's bed time for you."

I eased her off the seat, she groaned, and her weight came down on me. I snugged my arm, drawing her up, turning ...

Evan.

I blinked. Evan was there, at a back table, sitting with a lanky woman with short, spiky, scarlet hair. She was leaning close to him, her eyes glowing with interest, and her hand stroked along his arm.

I stumbled, and Kayla groaned. "God, 'Mand, which of us has been drinking?"

My mouth went dry. The woman's head went next to Evan's ear, and she whispered something into it. Her hand ruffled through his hair – that thick hair that I knew so well, and when she sat back her body radiated sexuality.

He drew his gaze down her, then nodded.

My stomach lurched, and I turned with Kayla, pushing my way through the noisy crowd to the front door. The cool air of the dark night was crisp and fragrant with the scent from the row of large, crimson hibiscus plants growing along the street. I stood for a moment, breathing it in, fighting to hold back the queasiness.

Kayla groaned as if she were having stomach issues of her own.

I snapped into focus. I had to get her home. I could worry about anything else after I took care of her – but Kayla needed my help.

She had trouble with the one-foot-after-another part of walking, and she faded out on me several times. At long last we were through the customs building, enduring the amused glance of the portly matron who was checking IDs. The ship's security officer let us go through the checkpoint together, undoubtedly deciding that Kayla might not be able to manage it on her own.

By the time we reached our room, I was simply grateful that Kayla had not retched along the way. Score one point for her bartender-trained constitution. I eased her onto her bed and pulled off her high heels. She burrowed her head into her pillow, and I turned down the lights.

Her voice grumbled out from the thick white pillow. "Gotta find Sven. Tell him I'm ok. He's in room 222."

"He's the one who left you," I pointed out, brushing her hair back. "We can tell him in the morning."

"Gotta tell him," she insisted. "222. Gotta ... Scmotta ..." her pleas faded into incomprehensibility. In a moment she was snoring with the power of a force five hurricane.

I sat on my bed, the initial stress of getting Kayla safely home fading under the room-shattering snores. Twists of emotion wrenched through me with each shuddering inhale and exhale, as the vision of Evan in the woman's grasp flared into vivid life. Had that been heated interest in his eyes? He'd refused to make love to me in the massage room. Had it been because he was saving himself for another woman? He'd already been preparing to move on?

Kayla's next snore tore my eardrums into tattered remnants.

I couldn't take it any more.

I stood and left the room, striding down the hallway to the stairwell.

I stopped there, staring at the two flights, one going up, the other down. I knew I should head up to the decks, to find a lounge chair to sprawl on for an hour or two, until I was so exhausted that I would fall asleep immediately despite Kayla's furious wind tunnel effect. I should go up to the theater, or by the pool, or maybe even to the library, so I could ...

My feet began their descent.

My heart pounded against my ribs as I moved down to the crew deck. I'd never been to this part of the ship. I didn't belong here. And Evan had asked me to stay away. But I had to know. Maybe I'd been mistaken about what I'd seen. Surely nobody would see me down here at this hour of the morning. I'd just check in, let Sven know she was all right, get reassurance from Evan, and then head back to my room. Kayla would be happy. I'd be happy. The world would resume spinning in its proper orbit.

Music echoed from the hall before me; one of the doors was open a crack. The lyrics blasted out in hard-edged rhythm, one I knew well. _Life in the Fast Lane._

I chuckled as I approached the door. Apparently the band was taking their bachelor living seriously. There was the tail end of a bathrobe's belt trailing out of the doorway, and that's what the door had caught on. Looking in the thin gap, I could see dirty socks, crumpled magazines, stained t-shirts, plates of half-eaten food, and piles of items too mixed to name. There were a pair of bunk beds on each side. A black speaker amp stood in the center of the room as a makeshift table, with a square of glass on top serving as its counter.

I could see the two left-hand bunks more clearly from my angle. Tom, his bald head shining in the cabin's lights, had a pair of drumsticks in his hand and was rapping the wall in time with the music. I gave a silent prayer to whoever it was who had the room next to theirs. Either they worked the night shift, or they had the patience of a saint. Above Tom, Hank was stretched out on the upper bunk, his gaze locked on the TV screen. He spoke to the other side of the room. "We've got some rain coming in, but it looks like perfect weather for next weekend."

Sven stepped into the center of the room from the right, carrying a wrapped package the size of a loaf of bread. He set it down onto the glass counter. "Excellent. We've only got that one final run between Boston and Bermuda, and then we do our repositioning cruise down to New Orleans. So we want to make these count."

I blinked. I should have remembered that, of course, but in all the excitement I hadn't even given it thought. I'd assumed, foolishly of course, that Evan would be coming back and forth to Boston until he finished his tour. But he wouldn't. Cold weather was about to set in, and the ship would be heading south for the winter, just like the Canada geese and hummingbirds.

The thought of him being even further away from me sent a chill through my soul.

Tom did a roll with the drumsticks. "Two weeks. Is that enough time to hook Kayla?"

My brow creased in confusion.

Sven pulled a knife from his back pocket and popped it open. He cut a line down the top of the package and slid the knife into it, coming out with a white powder.

My heart stopped.

Sven eyed the powder with a practiced eye. "Yeah, I've almost got her on board. Hell, the fool girl was talking about signing on, so she could bartend on ship while we did our southern run!" He laughed. "But I convinced her that it's better if she stays put in Boston."

He grinned over at Tom. "God, the connections she has. She has politicians, bankers, you name it, all coming and going out of that bar of hers." His eyes lit up. "But, best of all, she's got a number of school administrators and teachers. Once we turn her, she can hook in with a few of them. Think of the potential. If we can get into a school, the sky's the limit."

I leaned against the door frame. I could not take it in. One thought rang through my head, like a claxon bell sounding out an alarm. I had to find Evan, to warn him. He would know what to do. He would know who to tell, so we could shut these criminals down, stop them before they could –

Sven put his knife down on top of the package. "Looks like good stuff. Bring over the gear, and let's give it a try."

There was a soft clattering noise.

Evan stepped into the middle of the room, carrying needles, rubber strips, and a few other items I couldn't make out, because suddenly my eyes were streaming tears.

My breath came out of me in a soft cry.

Evan's eyes flicked up in surprise.

For a single, heart-wrenching moment, our gazes locked.

I fled.

# Chapter 11

I was freezing cold, soaked to the bone, curled up in a tiny ball, and hard metal pressed in on me from two sides.

I tried to blink my eyes awake, but they were glued shut. My arms were too sore to move, so it took a while before I could gather the strength to pry my lids apart, to make sense of what had happened.

Heavy droplets of rain were pounding down all around me, pummeling the deck of the ship. The thick, grey clouds were softly glowing, so it wasn't night, but I was hard pressed to determine what time of day it was. I was in amongst some sort of machinery, on an upper deck of the ship, judging from my elevated view of the shoreline.

I wearily pushed myself to sitting. I was tucked in beneath something to do with the smokestack, for I saw now that it towered high above me. My mouth tasted sour, and snippets from last night trickled into my awareness.

Blink.

I was racing along the deck in the dark, fleeing as if the very hounds of hell were at my heels.

Blink.

I was tucked in a doorway as the heavens burst loose, drenching the world in a steady curtain of rain.

Blink.

I was staggered on my knees near the jogging track, retching out anything I had eaten for the entire voyage. The deluge washed it all away, removed any trace, as if it had never existed.

Blink.

I was back at the beginning again, standing at the cabin door, caught in Evan's gaze ...

The tears came again, streaming down my face, an echo of the world around me. A distant part of me wondered that I had any tears left. Somehow I was both wrung dry and also soaked to the bone. Shivers wracked me, and I wrapped my arms tighter around my body.

I couldn't go back to my room. What if Evan was there? What if he wasn't, and Kayla was awake? What could I tell her? How could I explain any of this, when even my own mind refused to make sense of it?

It just couldn't be true. There was no way. My mind simply refused to connect the pieces, as if a European style plug was trying to jam into an American receptacle. They didn't fit. There was no way to make these two scenes meld together.

But I had seen it with my own eyes. Which meant that everything that had come before was a lie.

A low moan shook from me, and from some inner depth fresh tears were found, were brought forth and presented as offerings to the gods of capriciousness.

I had been used.

There were footsteps, a shadow rounded the corner, and a long, low groan staggered out of Evan. He dropped to one knee in relief, his face haggard, lined with worry and exhaustion. "Jesus Christ, Amanda. There you are. I've searched every square inch of this ship for you. I thought -" He bit off the words, his throat going tight.

He reached out a hand for me.

I flinched, pulling back into my corner, wrapping my arms tighter around my knees.

His face tensed, and he turned his hand palm up in a gesture of supplication. "Please, Amanda, let me –"

My voice was sharp, unnatural to my own ears. "Don't touch me."

His eyes drew down me in concern. "God, Amanda, you are freezing." He stood and used his card on the door to one side of me, pushing it open. He propped it with his foot while he reached down with both hands, hooking them under my arms. I wanted to resist, to fight him off, but waves of warmth came from the noisy machine room within, and deep longing billowed within me, craving that heat. I allowed him to carry me in, to set me down onto a chair which sat before a small console. A large open space at the center of the room could easily have held my cabin within it. All around the edges were tubes and levers, and a steady thrum resonated within the room.

It was warm. Soul-baskingly warm.

I groaned. I hadn't realized just how tightly every muscle in my body had been clenched until they began to carefully, slowly unfurl.

He looked down at me, running a hand through his thick hair. For some reason the motion made me think of that woman in the bar, and my heart crystalized, turned to ice.

His jaw was tight. "Amanda, if you let me –"

My voice shot from me, harder and more forceful than I knew was possible. "I'm reporting all of you to the local police."

His gaze shadowed. "Please, I can –"

I could feel the steel sliding down my spine, strengthening me. "We haven't left land yet. There's still time. I'll get to the station and tell them exactly what I know. They will round you all up and stick you in some hell hole for the rest of your lives."

His hand reached for my arm and I shook him off, my eyes shooting daggers into him. "Don't you touch me. Don't you ever touch me again."

I staggered to my feet, and for a long moment it seemed my legs wouldn't hold me. Then, at last, they stabilized enough to keep me upright. I leaned against the wall, taking one step toward the door, then two. My hand went to the metal handle.

Evan's hand rested on top of mine, gently, delicately, the touch of a mother robin's wing sweeping over the fragile blue eggs of her children. His voice was low and rich with emotion. "Amanda, please wait."

I stared at his hand as if it were a viper's head. "Nothing you could say will make me change my mind."

His breath eased out of him, and tension sung in every muscle in his body. He gazed into my eyes as if it were the last sight he would ever see.

And then he spoke.

"Amanda -"

I turned the handle.

The door burst in on me, knocking me back, and I sprawled on the metal floor. Jeff strode in, his eyes sweeping from Evan down to me with sharp fury. He called back over his shoulder. "You were right, Mikey. We've got them now."

There was a movement behind him. Five large men filled the doorway, creating an impenetrable barrier between us and the safety of the world beyond.

Jeff slipped his hand into his back pocket, coming out with a set of brass knuckles. He slowly settled them on his right hand. His eyes pinned me like a bully's knife deliberately spearing a butterfly to a wooden fence. "You watch this good, Mandy," he ordered. "You watch your playmate get pummeled into red jelly. Because, once he's dumped on shore, and our ship leaves dock in four hours, it'll just be you and me the whole cruise home."

Amanda and Evan's story continues in _Wine-Dark Dreams_ \- Book 2 of this Bermuda Nights series!

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/winedarkdreams/

You can also get the Bermuda Nights boxed set so you have all four in one complete set!

http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/

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# Dedication

To Ruth, one of my most loyal supporters who provides great, on target, prompt suggestions for all my writing projects.

To Jenn, whose encouragement and specific fact-finding help is always appreciated.

To Toni, who has cheerleaded from the very beginning.

To Sandra, whose thorough editing is an immense help!

<https://www.facebook.com/sandrabaublitzediting>

To Bob, Joe, Blake, and George, who all provide great insight into a male point of view and authentic way of acting and reacting.

And most of all, an enthusiastic thank-you to all my loyal fans on Goodreads, Amazon, Facebook, Twitter, and the other sites. I appreciate your energy and love for the characters! It keeps me going .

# About the Author

Ophelia Sikes fervently believes that every one of us deserves dedicated, passionate love in our lives – coupled with a soul-deep respect which supports our dreams.

Ophelia has lived within an hour's drive of Boston for nearly all of her college and adult life. For many years she worked in Cambridge, commuting in and out through Boston's trains and subways each day. Numerous delightful evenings were spent at Boston bars, restaurants, and museums. Even though she now works from home, she still gets into Boston as often as she can, to enjoy the countless gorgeous offerings that this historic city presents.

Ophelia's been on the Boston to Bermuda cruise ship run three times and highly recommends the adventure!

Half of the proceeds of this book's sales benefit battered women's shelters.

Please send along as much feedback and suggestions as you can. The more we can polish these worlds and characters, the more we can help the cause.

Ophelia Sikes can be found at:

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Worcester Nights series:

Kate's life sucks. She's tending bar at a run-down dive. Her immoral boss fondles every co-ed within reach. The clientele is made up of TV-glazed zombies, drunkards, and ... who is that in the corner?

The Thunderbolt Hits.

She hadn't thought it was real. But when she looks into Sean's eyes, the force of the connection staggers her. Her mind desperately seeks to pull her back - he's an ex-felon. Far too talented with those rippled muscles and toned fists. He's everything she should be staying away from.

She craves him from the depths of her soul.

His touch smolders her skin; his fingers expose her to worlds she never dreamt existed.

But when his secret is ripped free from the dark shadows, their lives teeter on the brink of destruction.

Book 1 - Dwell in Possibility

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/WorcesterNights/dwellinpossibility/

Book 2 – A Soul Ajar

http://OpheliaSikes.com/WorcesterNights/asoulajar/

Book 3 – A Song of Soul and Hope

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/WorcesterNights/asongofsoulandhope/

Book 4 – Stop One Heart from Breaking

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/WorcesterNights/stoponeheartfrombreaking/

Boxed Set of Books 1-4

http://OpheliaSikes.com/WorcesterNights/

Bermuda Nights series:

Amanda desperately needed to get away. Her whole life had been about pleasing others - her straight-laced parents, her rule-bound teachers. When her best friend, Kayla, suggested they hop a cruise from Boston to Bermuda, Amanda leapt at the chance. This was her one chance to light the night on fire.

And then Evan stepped on stage.

Evan was exactly the man her country-club parents would have disapproved of. Ripped abs and soul-deep eyes. Lightning-fast fists. One glance and she knew she has to be his - if just for these seven brief, torturously-exquisite days.

And, oh, Evan could play her. His fingers were connoisseurs of her body, drawing out her deeper notes, sending her soaring to heights she barely knew existed. She lost all sense of self, of rules.

Until the day she saw what she was never meant to see - and her world changed forever.

Book 1 – Resonating Souls

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/resonatingsouls/

Book 2 – Wine-Dark Dreams

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/winedarkdreams/

Book 3 – The Soulless Abyss

 http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/thesoullessabyss/

Book 4 – Wanting All

http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/wantingall/

Boxed Set of Books 1-4

http://OpheliaSikes.com/BermudaNights/

Italian Nights series.

Hannah and her sister, Megan, have been given the trip of a lifetime. They are cruising the Mediterranean Sea. Starting at Rome, they are working their way counter-clockwise through Florence, Monte Carlo, Barcelona, Sardinia, Sicily, and Pompeii. Life is their playground.

And then Hannah meets Brandon.

Brandon is strong, intelligent, loyal, and everything Hannah could possibly dream of in a man. He has also just walked in on his fiancée in bed with his best friend. Hannah is willing to wait as long as it takes for him to work his way through this betrayal.

And then all Hell breaks loose ...

Book 1 – Love's Heat

<http://OpheliaSikes.com/ItalianNights/lovesheat>

Book 2 – Carved Into My Heart

<http://OpheliaSikes.com/ItalianNights/carvedintomyheart>

Book 3 – Lost In Darkness

http://OpheliaSikes.com/ItalianNights/lostindarkness

