

DOCKED

Rachael Wade

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. Names, characters,

places and incidents either are products of the author's imagination

or are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual events or

locales or persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental. No part

of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever

without written permission of the author except in the case of brief

quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Copyright © 2014 SmashWords Edition - Rachael Wade

Rabbit Hole Press

Orlando, Florida

www.RachaelWade.com

Editor: Susan Miller

Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Design Inc.

TABLE OF CONTENTS

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

DEDICATION

To Carol Kunz. You are a presence. Thank you for your love, support, and friendship. This book would have remained an incomplete manuscript and would have never seen the light of day if it weren't for your encouragement and our Olive Garden lunch dates.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I'm going to make this short and sweet this time. Thank you to all of my reader, writer, and blogger friends. You make this job the best job in the world. I love you.

ONE

I will not drown today. I will not drown today. I will not drown today.

My feet are planted stubbornly at the foot of the stateroom door, which remains closed. I haven't had the nerve to unlock it yet, much to the annoyance of the hallway passersby. They hurry around me, bumping into me as they go, but my eyes are glued to the shiny gold doorknob. I have about five more minutes, if I'm lucky, before Lana shows up to burst my little bubble—the one that allows me just a few seconds of uninterrupted, ignorant bliss. Five more minutes before I have to step into this room and begin this journey. Before today, I've never stepped foot on a cruise ship. Hell, I've never stepped foot on a boat, and that's saying a lot, considering this is Florida.

But here I am, standing on this ship after dragging my ass out of bed at the crack of dawn to arrive at Port Canaveral for a twelve-day cruise that was forced upon me by my well-intending, very persistent red-headed best friend. I might have played a small part in this by eventually giving in to Lana's relentless badgering, but as I stand here in this tiny hallway in front of the elegant stateroom door, I'm certain that this is a bad idea. Scratch that—a seriously horrendous idea.

Who the hell goes on a cruise when she's afraid of water?

Had I not fell for Lana's ol' sob story about her break-up with Matt, I probably wouldn't be standing here right now like a complete loser, staring at the door as if it's about to reach out and bite me. I'm here to support her, and according to her, to have a good time. We're also here to work.

"Anya?" Lana's voice soars toward me from the end of the hallway. "You okay, Sweets?"

I chance a peek in her direction, my white knuckles still gripping the key tightly. I inhale deeply, then exhale, nodding and smiling ardently at her. The bubble bursts. Reality washes over me—there's no getting off this ship now.

"Hey," Lana's voice softens as she approaches and reaches for the room key. She gently tugs it from my fist, the one balled up at my side, and opens the door. "You've got this, okay? You're going to have a great time. You're going to relax, and when you get home, you're going to be so glad you came with me, I promise. This is just what you need, An. And I don't know what I'd do without you right now."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I swallow the lump in my throat, still not budging when Lana lets the door swing wide open.

"You're on a luxury cruise liner, woman!" She squeals and smiles brightly, tapping my shoulder to encourage me forward. "You're going to the freaking Bahamas, for crying out loud! Get excited! And, um, hello? You have the best company ever." She lifts her chin with a smug grin and I can't help but smile. For someone who just went through the break-up from hell, Lana is pure sunshine, dousing me in her radiance.

God knows I need the vitamin D.

I steel myself and step into the stateroom, immediately drawn to the elegant gold drapes that frame the single porthole view. The bed is layered in fine burgundy silk and the pillows are soft, fluffy clouds. There's an opulent cherry-red vanity mirror and dresser, and a flat screen TV facing the bed. Our suitcases sit waiting for us just inside the door, tagged with our room number. I'm in awe, and judging by Lana's excited shouts, she's just as impressed. She lugs her heavy suitcase into the room and hops onto the bed, running her hands over the gold and red silk comforter.

"This is insane!" she shrieks. "I've never been on a ship this posh before. I'm telling you, An, this trip is going to be amazing. We're going to pamper the living hell out of ourselves, you got it? Starting this afternoon. We're changing, and then we're getting our asses out on that deck. I want sun, man candy, and a margarita, stat!" She bounces back to her feet and ducks into the bathroom, leaving me standing there, staring out the porthole window. I hesitantly make my way toward it, forcing my gaze to the blue, cloudless sky. As uneasy as I am about this whole adventure, there is an innate tingling somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach that tells me Lana might be right. This might be just what I need, although admittedly, it scares the hell out of me. It's not water I'm afraid of, really. I like to swim. Love it, in fact.

It's the ocean that gets me—so tumultuous and powerful, sleek and unpredictable. Being at its mercy makes every hair on my body stand on end.

"You're freaking out again," Lana's voice breaks my train of thought. My shoulders stiffen and I blink, shoving the fear deep, deep down, where it belongs. She knows me way too well.

"How can I not freak out?" I turn slowly to face her. She's leaning casually against the wall, arms crossed, brow furrowed in concern, while she bites her lip.

"You have no reason to be afraid," she says quietly. "I'm going to be with you the whole time. You're safe." She raises her hands and gestures to our room. "Don't let it distract you from the good stuff. Just try to enjoy the view, okay?" She smiles cautiously and juts her chin toward the porthole window. I follow her gaze back to the window and take in the bright, spotless sky once more.

"You're right."

"I know I am," she says, all sassy and playful. "Now get your pale ass into that bikini so we can get this party started."

"I should be the one giving you a pep talk right now."

"Don't worry about me," she says, waving her hand dismissively. "Matt's history. I've gotta suck it up and get back on the horse. This trip is the perfect opportunity. Okay, you gonna get a move-on or what?"

"We haven't even unpacked."

"It can wait." She leans down to pick up my suitcase and hoists it onto the bed with a groan, unzipping the front compartment to rifle through my stuff. "Here!" She locates my teal blue bikini and tosses it to me, laughing when the strings slap me in the face. "The fun awaiting us on deck is far more important at the moment."

I smile as I look down at the nylon material in my hands, clenching it tightly. This is certainly a nice break from my usual nine-to-fiver attire. "Thank you," I say, with all the warmth I can muster. Lana always knows how to calm me down and lift my spirits. She believes in me, and that makes me want to believe in myself.

"Thank me by putting that thing on. Come on!" She claps and adjusts her halter top, moving to fluff her hair in the mirror.

I laugh. "Am I going to have to restrain you?"

"Have you seen the men boarding this ship? There are shiny things everywhere. I'm going to explode."

"Well, I need a shower first. I feel gross. You rushed me out the door so fast this morning, I didn't have a chance to take one. Head up without me and I'll meet you there."

"You sure? I don't mind waiting."

I cock a brow at her and smirk. "Just go."

"Okay!" She grabs her bag and sunglasses and lunges forward to give me a quick squeeze. "I'll save a chair for you. Don't be long!"

"I won't."

She flits her fingers and hurries out the door, and I quickly retreat to the bathroom and step into the neatly tiled shower stall. I smooth my long brown layers out, parting my side-swept bangs to the right, and slide my sunglasses on top of my head. Once my white sundress is slipped over my bikini, I do one last check to make sure I've tossed everything I need in my tote bag, and then I'm good to go.

The excitement around the ship is palpable as I step out into the hallway, pulling the stateroom door shut behind me and listening for the click of the lock. My nerves are still on edge, but at least for now, we're still docked. I find my way to the elevators and scan the directions on the wall. Learning my way around this thing is going to be a feat. I scramble inside the glass elevator and start for Deck 10 Aft, where Lana awaits me with a lounge chair, margarita, and just as she's hoped, lots and lots of man candy hanging around the pool area.

"Good God almighty, remind me again why I was with Matt Jenkins?" she whispers loudly as I take a seat on the chair she's saved for me. "I mean, would you look at him? And him?" She points as two guys stroll by us, all tanned, toned, and beautiful.

"You're asking the wrong girl," I say, giggling at her shameless ogling. I was never a fan of Matt Jenkins, but I kept my distaste for him under wraps as best I could. For a while there, he made Lana happy, and that's all that mattered. Now that he was out of the picture, though, I was pretty thrilled. Everything about him was wrong for Lana, even though she hadn't seen it right away. He was too picky, too controlling, and far too manipulative for a woman like her. She is brave and independent, not to mention ambitious. She graduated at the top of her class, taking mostly honors courses, and even now, working far above me as assistant editor for Four Corners Elite magazine—a travel publication—she has her sights set on becoming editor-in-chief of the magazine one day. Matt's drive to better himself paled in comparison, and the more her career took off, the more he seemed to envy her.

"Just two more hours until we leave the port. You still feeling uneasy?" Lana taps her plastic cup against mine in a toast and settles back on her chair, tilting her head up to soak up the sunshine.

"Nah, I'll be fine. Or I will be once this margarita kicks in, that is." I join her in settling into my chair, breathing in the warm spring air and getting lost in the reggae music that floats around the deck. In seconds, I'm burning up and rise to slip off my sundress.

"You already have an admirer," Lana teases as I strip down to my bikini, adjusting the knot around my back.

"Huh?"

"Green swim trunks. One o'clock." She nudges me with her elbow as I return to my seat. I follow her gaze to the bar near the pool, finding a black-haired, athletic guy with cute dimples leaning back on the counter, drilling holes into me with deep, crystal-blue eyes. Sexy, but not my type.

"Lan, he looks like he's twenty-one."

"So?"

"I'm twenty-six."

"And that's a problem because..."

"He's too young, you crazy woman!"

"What, are we cougars, now? We're twenty-six for God's sake, not sixty! Go over there and give him a closer look. He's eye-fucking you as we speak."

"It's my job to play matchmaker on this trip, not yours, remember?"

"I don't need anyone playing matchmaker for me. I can hunt all on my own. You, on the other hand, need a good kick in the ass."

"Excuse me! What makes you think I'm even looking?" I lift my sunglasses and pin her with fiery brown eyes, a smile twisting my lips. Lana really needs no help in the self-esteem department.

"Anya, I know for a fact that Jeremiah guy was not cutting it in the bedroom. You need someone to show you how it's done. No time like the present, babe."

I pluck the little pink umbrella from my drink and flick it at her. "You just know it all, don't you, Queen of the Universe?"

"I do, thank you very much." She laughs and tosses the umbrella back. "I know that Matt and I had better sex than you and Jeremiah ever did, and that's saying something. Now quit being stubborn and go make friends at the bar."

"I will not!"

"Don't make me waste a perfectly good margarita."

"You wouldn't dare."

Lana's lips purse and her eyes narrow. With a flick of her wrist, she sends her drink sloshing all over me, and I shriek, leaping off the chair. "You were saying?"

Oh, the feisty, bossy bitch. She just declared war.

I send the remainder of my drink sailing between us, grinning widely as I watch it splash all over her chest. The next thing I know, we're howling in laughter and she's yanking at my hair while I fight dirty, grappling for her halter top string.

"Oh no, you don't!" she shouts, scrambling to knock my hands away from her neck. Her sunglasses topple to the deck and her shouts only fuel our laughter further. I give up on the halter top strings and go for her hair. It's already disheveled. The wind has been knocked out of me and I'm struggling to catch my breath, but I manage to get in a good lungful of air when I'm distracted by a glimpse of the younger guy at the bar, who is now strolling over to make his move.

"Shit." I let go of Lana's red waves and straighten up, working to make sure my bikini top is still intact. I snap up my towel and attempt to inconspicuously wipe the margarita from my chest and abdomen.

"I underestimated you," Lana giggles, toppling over onto her side as she gasps. "You're vicious, Anya Banks." I clear my throat and break eye contact with Mr. One O'clock, and Lana catches on. She sits up and her gaze darts to where mine's just been. "Oh, good! He's assertive. Just what you need."

"Sssh," I shush her, feeling my cheeks redden. I roll my eyes and stiffen when I feel him approaching. Lana lifts her chin and grins widely in his direction. Dear God, if I don't die from drowning on this trip, then I'll surely die from mortification.

"Hello ladies, welcome aboard," a smooth, measured tone drifts over us, along with a looming shadow. Lana's grin reaches epic proportions, her eyes widening in surprise. She shoots me a coy look and I shift to greet the guy from the bar. Only, when I look up, I find it's not the guy from the bar.

Not even close.

This guy...well, I don't know where this guy came from. He's immaculate. Tall, effortlessly sophisticated, and exuding raw masculinity. My jaw drops a bit, and I'm completely frozen, stuck staring like a gaping fish. "Are you enjoying yourselves so far? Finding everything to your liking?" he asks, smiling coolly down at us. His short, tousled blonde hair glistens under the sunlight. He's freshly shaven, emphasizing the sharp, defined angles of his jaw, and the blue of his eyes is so deep, a heady cerulean, I could swim in them. His athletic build is mouthwatering—sleek and graceful. The sun has kissed his skin in all the right places, even and warm, caressing his firm build, which clearly has Lana panting in her seat.

My gaze jumps behind him, and I see the guy from the bar standing just a few yards away, watching our exchange unfold. He walks to the edge of the pool and joins his friend, whispering something under his breath. It's clear he's been deflected by the man now standing before us, asking us about our day, but I'm unable to feel even a pang of sympathy for him, because all I can focus on is the fine specimen of male who unknowingly sabotaged his move.

"Well, we are now," Lana croons, leaning back on the palms of her hands. "Aren't we, Anya?" She kicks my shin and I wince, snapping out of my haze.

"Um, yeah. Definitely."

"And you are?" Lana tilts her head playfully, arching her back. The guy's easy smile spreads on one side, lifting into a smirk, but his eyes seem unaffected, completely immune to Lana's shameless body language.

"Tanner Christensen," he says confidently, extending a hand. "I own the ship. Please, if there's anything I can do to make your sailing experience more pleasurable, don't hesitate to come find me and let me know." Lana slips her hand into his and raises a brow, continuing to grin up at him like the brazen hussy she is.

"Oh, I will certainly take you up on that, Mr. Christensen." His baby blues twinkle in satisfaction and he shakes her hand firmly. "I'm Lana. This is my best friend, Anya."

"Ah," he says, extending his hand to me next. "Best friends sailing together. I like that. The pleasure's mine, Miss..."

"Banks," I finish for him, accepting his warm hand. It swallows mine whole, transfixing me for a moment.

"Miss Banks. Can I ask what made you ladies choose this cruise line? You have many options. I'm honored you chose my ship."

"The men," Lana blurts with a blasé shrug of her shoulder. Tanner releases my hand and his gaze bounces toward her. He chuckles smoothly, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in grey dress pants, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a baby blue tie. His polished, Italian leather shoes scream luxurious wealth. His taste is impeccable.

I discreetly tug at the triangles of my bikini top, feeling incredibly bare in comparison.

"Lana," I laugh, glancing at Tanner, "don't mind her, she has no brain-to-mouth filter."

Tanner presses his lips together, suppressing a smile. "That's perfectly fine with me. Honesty is always refreshing."

"In that case," Lana starts, crossing her legs, "I have to ask. What are you doing on this cruise?"

Tanner's fists flex and tighten in his pants pockets. His expression turns from entertained to perplexed, his eyebrows knitting closely together. "Sorry, I'm not sure what you mean."

"I mean, you're the owner, right? Don't companies and owners of cruise ships, ya know, sit at home in fancy offices or swanky cubicles somewhere?"

"Not always. Not me. I could check in on the ship's sailings a lot less often, but I choose not to. I love to sail, love the ocean. I come aboard whenever I get the chance. Getting acquainted with my guests is very important to me." He responds with complete certainty, a comfortable self-assurance. It's sexy.

"Are you married?"

"Lana!"

"Because you should be."

"Oh my God."

"What? He should be." She gestures to him, glancing at me sideways. "Handsome, successful, friendly..."

"She's sorry." I smile up at Tanner, biting my lip. He's shaking his head softly, looking down at his expensive shoes with a playful, knowing grin. He knows. He must get this all the time from women on the ship. He can't be more than 30—awfully young to own a ship like this—and he carries himself well. You'd have to be daft not to notice this man.

"No, I'm not," Lana retorts, standing to her feet. She brings herself eye level with him, all sassy and Lana-like, although his height still overpowers her. "Care to give us a tour of the ship, Mr. Christensen?"

Cool surprise sheaths his face, but he takes it in stride. "I'd be honored to, but I'm actually on my way to a meeting at the moment. I'd be happy to escort you to a staff member who can show you around, if you wish. Would that suffice?"

"Nah, that's okay. We'd prefer to take a tour with you, personally."

I clear my throat and slowly rise to my feet to stand with Lana. She has one hand planted on her hip, while the other toys with the strings of her bikini bottom. As I rise, I suddenly feel as I did a moment ago, when Tanner's hand was enclosing mine—small and naked. Very, very naked.

I cross my arms and smile sweetly, bumping my shoulder into Lana's side. "We understand. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Christensen."

The blue flecks in his eyes dance as he glances at me, studying me for a second, then at his chrome watch. "Tell you what. When the ship leaves port, I'll be in the Marais lounge on Deck 10, Aft. That's where we celebrate setting sail. Come find me, and I'll show you around."

"Great! We'll be there," Lana replies quickly.

"If it's not an inconvenience," I add. "You must get these requests all the time."

Tanner tilts his head and looks at me dead on. His lashes lower for a second and he studies me again. "No inconvenience at all. I look forward to it. In the meantime, happy hunting, ladies. Oh," he leans in and lowers his voice, "and if you're looking for Mr. Right, I suggest the Bordeaux Room on Deck 8, Forward. It's open every evening and I hear the selection is impressive." He smirks and gently touches my shoulder. I am acutely aware of his nearness, and I half expect his fingers to stick to my shoulder with lime juice. Instead the contact is brief, his fingers smooth and warm.

"Ooooh, he's a matchmaker, too! See, An, he's a winner." Lana elbows me and wiggles her fingers at him, watching as he strolls off. He stops a few feet away from us to briefly greet more guests, and then disappears down the deck through a set of double doors.

"Now that is what I call exceptional service," Lana sings, fanning herself. "Hallelujah, we have a date. What'll we wear? We better get back to the room and start preparing!"

"What do you mean, we?" I snort, moving to plop back down on my lounge chair. "You mean you. I just got here."

"You're not coming?" she shrieks in disbelief, spinning around to join me. She settles on the edge of my chair, whimpering like a puppy. "You have to come, An. Please? Did you not just get an eyeful of that hunk of male who offered to show us around? Don't spoil my fun!"

"I'm not spoiling anything. You have him all to yourself. Go have fun." I snap open my bottle of sunscreen and begin to lather up, ignoring her pout. "And yes, I did see him. Any woman with a pulse sees him."

"So, what's the problem?"

"I'd much rather sit out here until the sun goes down and sip a margarita than be your matchmaking guinea pig, thank you very much."

"Ugh. Anya, I don't care what I have to do, I'm dragging your ass to that party, and you will shamelessly flirt with that man."

"Lana..."

"Wear your dress! The little black one with the dip in the back. It looks stunning on you. Come on, An, don't make me beg."

"Too late."

Lana slaps my thigh and rises, bending to snatch up her tote bag and towel. "I've convinced you, you just don't know it yet. I'm gonna bail on the sunbathing and head back to the room. I need to pick out an outfit and start primping."

"Suit yourself. Bye," I drawl, swatting her butt. She sticks out her tongue at me and shuffles away, leaving me with the sun reflecting off the turquoise pool water and the sounds of reggae floating on the sea breeze. I adjust my sunglasses and rest my head back, peeking over at my previous admirer. He's in the pool now, laughing with his friends. He's already moved on and is making a move on another brunette near the stepladder. Good riddance. I need a man, not a boy. Preferably one like the delectable Mr. Christensen. But on my own terms, not my nosey best friend's.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes, soaking up the rich vitamin D until I'm relaxed and drifting off to sleep.

***

A soft breeze tickles my shoulder, waking me from my serene, sleepy haze. One glance at my watch tells me it's time to head back to the room if I expect to be ready for this rendezvous with Lana and Mr. Blue Eyes. She's right, of course. She's convinced me to go. But only because it really does sound like fun, and I'd much rather let Lana humor herself than spend my first afternoon on a cruise ship by myself.

I collect my things and hurry down the deck, veering around a corner to catch the elevator. The hallway is bustling with people getting on and off, many of them opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the next lift. After waiting patiently for a few minutes, I decide to follow their cue and start for the stairs. I'm cutting it close.

I jog up two flights, sighing when our stateroom door comes into view. The hall is quiet, except for the faint sound of hushed giggling just a few doors down. I insert my room key and crane my head toward the noise, my fingers stilling at the sight. There at the end of the hall, a curvaceous brunette is entangled with Mr. Blue Eyes. I almost don't recognize him, but his baby blue tie immediately gives him away. His tall frame is pinning the brunette's petite one to the wall, one hand pushing up her skirt, fingers gripping her upper thigh. He playfully bites her bottom lip and she giggles again, hooking her leg around his waist. The scene is entirely intimate, not to mention unprofessional for Mr. Owner of the Ship, and yet here I am, watching like a total stalker.

I can't look away.

"Tanner," the girl moans against his mouth, "take me inside."

"I'll take you right here."

"Someone will see," she whispers, gripping his forearms. He subtly rocks his hips, pushing her tighter against the wall, and I realize I'm gaping again, my jaw slack as I watch his hands roam over her body.

"No one's around," he whispers back. "Everyone's headed up to the lounge for the party."

"Don't you have to be there?"

"I have fifteen minutes."

"That's it?" The girl whines, her face turning pouty.

"Oh, it's enough, baby." His hand travels higher up her skirt, and I see a flash of red lace before my clumsiness gives me away. The room key fumbles in my fingers and drops from the doorknob to the floor. I quickly bend to swipe it up, bonking my head on the doorknob in the process.

"Shit!" I quickly stand, frantically attempting to open the door. I risk a side-glance toward them.

I wish I hadn't.

Tanner clears his throat, and his eyes lock onto me like missiles. As soon as I meet them, he looks away, back to the brunette, mumbling something I can't quite make out. It involves a string of F-bombs. Adjusting his groin and tugging at the sleeves of his suit jacket, he quietly directs the brunette to open their stateroom door. She's amused and embarrassed, covering her mouth as she struggles to unlock the door. Tanner and I exchange one last glance before both of our doors open, saving the day. He and the brunette hurry inside, and I hustle into my room just as quickly, exhaling in relief the moment the door shuts behind me.

I work to collect my wits. I've just made a complete fool out of myself, and in less than fifteen minutes, I'm supposed to face the man I just caught manhandling his girlfriend. Hell, more than that. He would have fucked her right there in the hallway had I not ruined the heat of the moment. I fall back against the door and hang my head in exasperation.

"Lan?" I call out, pushing myself off the door and moving toward the tiny bathroom. She's not there, and the rest of the cabin is empty. She must have left for the lounge already. Hurrying to my suitcase, I dig around for my little black dress—the one Lana suggested I wear—and then begin washing up. I take a few minutes to freshen up my loose, brown curls and apply some smoky eyeliner to enhance my hazel brown eyes. I feel fresher, but no amount of primping will prevent the big ol' pile of awkward I'm about to walk into.

TWO

The Marais Lounge welcomes me on Deck 10 Aft with just as much elegance—if not more—than our stateroom. The drapes are lush red, dripping with jewels, and the dark mahogany wrap-around bar brings me back to the 1940s. There are Art Deco touches everywhere, mixed with curvaceous provincial designs that span the entire lounge. From the carpeting to the chandeliers, the space is rife with decadence.

I spot Lana from the entrance. She's already chatting away with a group of men, her fiery red hair wrapped up in a pretty French twist, her body encased in her favorite navy blue swing dress. She wore it for the magazine's tenth anniversary gala, and it looks just as charming on her now as it did then. I weave my way through the throngs of people, scanning the perimeter for any signs of Mr. Blue Eyes. So far, I'm in luck. Maybe his hot and heavy tryst with the brunette ran later than expected and I'll be spared.

"Yay, you came!" Lana does a little wiggle when she sees me, reaching out to give me a warm squeeze. "You look fab, doll. Did you have fun at the pool?"

"Oh, you mean after you ditched me?" I poke her arm with a smile, complimenting her on her dress. "I fell asleep. It was glorious."

"Ha! That's what vacation's for, love. And it's just getting started. We're leaving port in less than five minutes. I'm so excited, I can't stand it. Come to the bar with us?" She nods to the men behind her, who are all waiting to escort her. "This is Carlos, Micah, and Jonah." She grins deviously when her back is to them, and I stifle a laugh. We haven't even left port yet, and she already has a line of contenders ready and waiting.

"Sure," I shrug, "why not?"

"That's my girl! Thank God, you're starting to loosen up. I told you I'd talk some sense into you." She hooks her arm with mine and brings us face to face with her boy toys, telling them to lead the way. We start our stroll across the room toward the bar, but Lana's gaze is everywhere except on the men in front of us. "Damn. I haven't seen him yet, have you? He said he'd be here. You don't think he'd stand us up, do you? I mean, that's pretty unprofessional."

"Ha," I laugh darkly under my breath, "I don't think he's concerned about that."

"Huh?" she asks absently, her eyes bouncing from left to right. She stops to stand on her tiptoes to peek around. "What makes you say that?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Well, if he shows, he shows, I guess." She sticks her bottom lip out and refocuses. "Anyway, so listen. When we leave port, I won't leave your side, got it? Not until you're positive you're okay."

"Thanks, Lan. But I'll be okay, really." I squeeze her arm fondly, knowing she can see right through my façade. I don't know if I'll be okay. I'm afraid I won't be. But now that I'm on the ship, I'm determined to stick this trip out. It's a vacation for Lana and me to spend some girl time together, but it's also our job. When these twelve days of sailing are over, Four Corners Elite magazine is expecting us to report back with a solid, honest piece on our experience aboard the Trident Voyager. We were granted this expense on behalf of the magazine, so sadly, this cruise is not all about fun and games, as much as I know Lana wishes it were. She had to fight to get our boss to splurge on the extra expense just to bring me along, saying she needed me to assist with research. We all know the true motive behind that one, though.

We reach the bar and Lana resumes chatting wildly with Carlos, Micah, and Jonah. Carlos is a linebacker and much too full of himself for my taste, but he offers to buy me a drink and I let him, knowing it won't be long before Lana swoops in and steals him away. I can tell she's already got her sights set on him, and I'm glad, because it's Jonah I'm interested in talking to. He's currently working on his master's in international communications, and he speaks four languages. He's not stuffy, and thank God, not full of himself. His laidback persona puts me at ease, distracting me from the fact that the horn has sounded, announcing our departure.

"Oh, it's time!" Lana squeals, grabbing my hand. "Let's go out on the deck and wave everyone off."

"We have no one to wave off," I laugh.

"Who cares! We have to be on deck for this. You can't miss it, An. It's beautiful. Come on!" She excuses herself from Carlos and Micah, and I thank Jonah for the chat, scurrying to keep up with her.

"Don't be long," Jonah calls after me, beaming from the bar. He's all man, with a sexy five o'clock shadow and warm, molten chocolate eyes. I wave and smile apologetically over my shoulder.

"We could've asked them to join us, you know," I say to Lana as she tows me through the lounge exit.

"Nah, we have to keep them wanting more. We'll meet up with them again in a bit." We hustle up to the deck railing and Lana flings herself forward, gripping the rail with gusto. "Au revoir, mes amis!" she shouts at the top of her lungs, waving to the strangers ashore like a lunatic. Her enthusiasm lights me up, contagious as always, and I join her in waving crazily at the faces down below. I work hard to focus, try to lose myself in the spirit of the event, but my gut can't help but plummet when the shore begins to drift farther and farther away. Little by little, we're being dragged out to sea, and in hours, maybe minutes, all we'll be able to see is nothing but the pure blue expanse of ocean, holding us captive.

A throat clears behind us, sending us pivoting around.

"Exciting, isn't it?" Tanner replies, standing there in the same suit he donned just hours ago. His gaze flicks to mine and I steel myself and look away, feeling my cheeks turn ten shades of red. I chance peeking back up. His thick, dark lashes sweep down for a moment before he directs his gaze out to the sea.

"Thrilling," Lana says, clapping her hands. "We thought you blew us off, Mr. Christensen."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm a man of my word." He unleashes a charming grin, splaying his feet and stationing himself between us. Casually adjusting his chrome watch, he nods to the ocean. "This is the best spot to watch the sun go down, by the way. It's not to be missed."

"Well, it won't be long, now," Lana says, following his gaze with a wistful sigh. "I could never get tired of this. I need to tell my boss to send us out here more often."

"Your boss?" Tanner asks with interest.

"Yeah, Anya and I work for Four Corners Elite. The travel publication. Have you heard of it?"

"Of course, I have. It's only one of the best."

"The best," Lana corrects him playfully. "We'll be reviewing our experience on your ship for a feature piece."

"Oh?"

"No pressure," she jokes, giving him a flirty tap of the shoulder. I remain quiet, but I feel her eyes on me. She's giving me that look. The one that says she's about to stir up trouble. And of course, she does. "This is Anya's first cruise. She's deathly afraid of the ocean."

My eyes widen.

"Is that so?" Tanner pipes up, his interest growing. He shifts his head to look at me, his expression calm and cool, but his eyes are cautious. I would be cautious too, if I were caught in the act by a travel magazine writer who'd soon be reviewing my ship.

"Yup, she's crazy brave. I couldn't do it. Not after what she's been through—"

"Lana," I cut her off, smiling through my teeth, "I think I'll run into the lounge for another glass of champagne. Would you like one?"

"That's okay," she narrows her eyes and turns on her heel, quickly slinking off. "I'll get us some. You two chat. I'll be right back."

Curses explode inwardly, and my hands wrap around the railing in a vice grip. Damn her! I will myself to think of something to say, anything that will dodge the elephant in the room, but I come up short.

"So, Miss Banks," Tanner starts, rocking back on his heels.

"Please, call me Anya."

We both keep our gazes trained straight ahead.

"Anya. You're a feature writer for Four Corners Elite?"

"More like a junior contributing writer. With some perks."

"You won't be writing the review?"

"Oh, I'll get to share my insight, but it's the assistant editor who gets final say. That's Lana. She'll get the credit for the piece."

"I see. That doesn't bother you?"

"No, why would it?"

"I don't know." He rolls a shoulder and his suit sleeve brushes my arm. I bristle at the contact. "Seems a bit unfair, that's all."

"Life is never fair." A cloud settles over us at my words, my tone casting a heavy shadow where we stand.

A beat passes before Tanner responds. "No," he says solemnly, "no, it isn't."

I straighten my back and inhale a whiff of salty air. This is beyond uncomfortable, and knowing Lana, she'll take her good old time getting our drinks, just to tease me. I open my mouth to speak, but he beats me to it, cutting straight to the chase.

"Look, Miss Banks, about earlier—"

"Please," I hold up a hand, "don't even worry about it. I'm sorry for...well, ya know. I'm...I'm pretty mortified."

"Please don't be. It was unprofessional of me and you shouldn't have had to see that."

"It's none of my business, really." I feel him shift his gaze, and I finally find the nerve to turn to him. "Can we just—"

"Pretend that never happened?"

"Yes," I breathe in relief, smiling.

"You have no idea how much I'd love that." Once he sees he has me, his shoulders relax a bit and he swivels all the way around to face me head on. "That said, I believe I owe you a tour."

"Sure, as soon as Lana gets back, I'd love one." A blast of wind careens over the railing and smacks into us, sending a shiver down my spine. I cross my arms and rub my hands up and down them to warm the chill.

"It gets cold up here, especially when the sun begins to go down," Tanner replies, moving to shrug off his suit jacket. "Here. Please, take this."

"Oh, thanks," I say, watching as he steps up behind me to hold open the jacket. I extend my arms and slide them inside, one sleeve at a time. Tanner adjusts the back of the collar, his fingertips brushing the nape of my neck, eliciting another shiver in their wake.

"Better?"

"Much." I step forward and turn around to face him, finding him watching me intently. "Is something wrong?"

His brows shoot up and he shakes his head as if waking from a daze. "Nothing at all. I'm just curious..."

"Go ahead, what is it?"

He runs his thumb across his lip, then leans to rest on the railing. "Is it true you're afraid of the ocean?"

A cold, icy sheet of discomfort wraps around me like a blanket, but I answer honestly. "Yeah. Yeah, I am. There was an incident a few months back. It shook me up pretty good."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"I'm here," I say matter-of-factly, gesturing to our surroundings. "That's all that matters, I guess."

"Is it?" Tanner chews his lip as he searches my expression. For what, I don't know. But it gives me a chance to get a closer look at those deep, sapphire eyes. They ensnare me, especially being this close. I see how his girlfriend easily gets lost in them. "Sometimes I think it's about more than just going through the motions. More than just confronting the fear. I think we have to believe we're strong enough. Have to feel it, deep, deep down. Otherwise we're just enduring, just existing, instead of living." Haunted, earnest contemplation washes over his face, and I'm rooted where I stand, searching for a response. "Sorry," he laughs, dropping his hand from the railing. "Don't know where that came from."

"Don't be," I say quietly, watching as he shifts his weight. His baby blue tie hangs comfortably over his crisp shirt, which is no longer rolled up at the elbows. Every part of him is hard and defined, graceful and sleek. Even his forearms are distracting.

I drag my gaze away from his physique.

"Well, you're right. I hope by the time I step off this ship, I'll be strong enough because I believe I am."

"You're certainly strong, choosing to come aboard. I hope the experience exceeds your expectations."

"It already has."

A mega-watt grin spreads across his face like wild fire and his chin lifts, revealing a proud, pleased demeanor. I'm taken with his confidence. It's subtly cocky, which is usually a major turnoff for me, but it looks damned good on Mr. Blue Eyes.

"So." I wrap his suit jacket tighter around my waist, snuggling in its warmth. It smells like mint. "I hope your offer to give us this tour isn't interfering with your plans this evening. With your girlfriend, I mean."

He scratches just beneath his ear, a short huff of amusement escaping him. "No need to worry about that. I'm not seeing anyone at the moment. The woman...she's not my girlfriend. This is so...this is awkward again, isn't it?"

"And unprofessional." I grin, enjoying that for once, the tables are turned and I'm no longer the one swimming in discomfort. I let him squirm for a minute before letting him off the hook. "Mr. Christensen—"

"Please, call me Tanner."

"Okay. Tanner. I'm joking. It's fine, really."

That cool smile graces his face again. "This won't wind up in your feature, will it? All of this is officially off the record, I hope?"

"Of course it is. I'm a woman of my word." I extend my hand for a playful shake and he accepts, once again swallowing mine in his strong warmth. He smoothes his thumb over my knuckle, and a light rasp shuttles from my lips at the touch.

"Good," he says, not letting go, "we'll be good friends, then." My hand lingers in his for a second more before I pull away, stepping back from his heady, fresh mint scent. It's already caressing me, while I'm wrapped in his jacket, but standing so close to him only intensifies the intoxicating aroma.

"Friends," I agree, with a resolute shake of my head.

"Now, shall we find Lana? I believe it's time for that tour..." He turns to lead me back to the lounge and I follow his stride, eyeing his self-assured gait. I make a note to myself to clobber Lana the second we find her, to make her pay for ditching me the way she did, but quickly retract that game plan when I realize I'm thankful I had a moment to speak with Mr. Blue Eyes. The awkwardness is over. The Trident Voyager is officially out to sea.

And I feel brave.

***

Once again, Lana turned flighty with the men she was leading on. After Tanner gave us a lengthy tour of the ship, we returned to the Marais Lounge only to wind up hanging out with an entirely new set of guys on the other side of the bar. Jonah didn't stick around, and I didn't blame him. The sun had gone down, the party had died off, and most of the crowd had dissipated since we left port. Now Lana is ready for round two, insisting I go back to the room with her to change for yet another outing.

"You heard what Tanner said," she argues, holding the lounge door open. "The Bordeaux Room, Deck 8 Forward. That's where we need to be."

"You're insatiable."

"Hey, I need to see the full menu before I order an entrée." We head out into the hall and wait for the elevator, groaning in pure bliss as we pull off our heels. We stand there barefoot, leaning on one another's shoulders.

"What about Tanner?" I ask.

"What about him?"

"You've been drooling over him since you laid eyes on him." I keep what I saw in the hallway to myself, knowing Lana is only out for a good time. If she were interested in anything more serious, I'd never encourage her to go after a man like Tanner, who clearly fucks women but doesn't date them.

"He's gorgeous, I'll give him that."

"What? That's it?"

"That's it."

"Who are you and what have you done with Lana Crawley?"

"That man isn't my cuppa, sorry."

"Okay, all that champagne must have gone to your head. There's no way you're thinking clearly."

"I'd love a piece of that, don't get me wrong. But he's not interested in me. No use wasting time when there's a whole boatload of delicious men hanging around. Besides, I doubt he'd make a move now that he knows I'm reviewing his ship."

I bite my tongue and smile, stepping into the elevator as it opens with a shrill ding. An hour later, we're primped and changed for the Bordeaux Room. Admittedly, I'm already exhausted from the day, but something about the cool night air as we step out onto the deck and Lana's excited energy gives me a second wind, and all I want to do is dance my ass off and blow off some steam.

The Bordeaux Room is as chic as the rest of the ship, but has a modern, sensual edge. Dark red velvet couches with tufted arches line the walls, and sleek black leather armchairs are gathered in clusters around asymmetrical tables. The lighting is low, the foliage is lush, and the music is loud. Lana drags me out on the floor and begins dancing maniacally. I join her, throwing my hands up and shaking my hips from left to right. Lana spins me and I tug at my hair tie, letting my brown waves fall loose and free around my shoulders. We lose ourselves in song after song, until we're both panting, sweaty messes.

"I need water," Lana shouts, pointing above my head to the bar.

"Okay, me too." I take her hand and maneuver us through the crowd. Tanner was right. This is Pick-Up Central. Especially for the ladies, who are apparently outnumbered in this club. I squeeze in at the bar and order us some water, bumping elbows with a man Lana recognizes from earlier, and in seconds, she's yapping away, chatting him up. I smirk as they get lost in conversation, sipping at my water and excusing myself to make my way across the dance floor. I fan myself when I reach the far wall. My hair is sticking to my forehead and a bead of sweat is trickling down my back, my body begging me for a breath of fresh air.

Sneaking out the main entrance, I slip away to the deck for a blast of cool air. Deck 8 is deserted, with the exception of a passerby going for a nighttime jog. I notice a sign next to the door that indicates this is the jogging deck, and that four laps around equates to one mile. I shiver as the cool air teases my skin, wondering how in the world anyone could exercise out here at this time of night. The wind is merciless.

Nothing but a bleak, stark horizon greets me over the deck railing. The low rumbling of churning, dark waves tumbles below, and I inhale deeply, reaching out to grip the smooth wood railing. My throat tightens and my heart begins to race. Seeing the ocean at night like this is even more terrifying than seeing it when we left port, but an inner turmoil prods me on, forcing me to step forward, closer and closer. It's a troubling sensation, absorbing the tranquility of the waves and the luminescent moonlight paired with the dismal horizon. I don't know which perception to believe. The scene will either eat me up and spit me out or wrap me in its peace.

The tips of my black heels knock the bottom rail as I pull myself completely flush against the wood. I close my eyes and a sigh escapes me, reminding me I have a say over this right now. I do not have to fear what floats below me. I am a strong, confident woman. I control the fear, not the other way around.

I continue to give my thoughts power over the panic, whispering under my breath as I work to calm myself. The ship rocks slightly, throwing my balance off, but I latch on tighter to the rail and quickly catch my footing, resuming my easy, steady breathing. I count to ten and open my eyes, thrilled I've managed to hang on, to remain this close to the edge of the railing. Another small rock sends me tilting, knocking off my footing again, and a fierce gust of wind blasts me back. My hair billows around me, whipping at my face and neck, stirring my sense of direction. Disorientation takes root and my fingers turn ironclad on the railing. I scramble to tilt my head and wipe my hair away from my face with my shoulder. When my vision is restored and I look down, all I see is the brooding roll of the ocean.

My chest constricts.

The sight leaves me lightheaded, signaling it's time for me to step away from the railing and to hightail it back inside to the Bordeaux Room, before the fear wins. I've pushed my bravery to its limits tonight, and while I'm grateful for the small victory, I have to challenge it in baby steps. I can't press my luck.

I carefully begin to pry my fingers from the wood and move to step back, holding my arms out to steady myself, like I'm about to attempt a crazy front flip. The ship rolls to the side again and I stumble back. A flash of skin and the soft whirl of a breeze pass behind me, and I spin fast to avoid smacking into the passerby.

Too late.

"Shit!" A shirtless, taut, sweaty body smacks into me, halting in its tracks at the impact. "I'm so sorry—"

"Are you okay?"

"Mr. Christensen," I breathe, gripping his arms. He's tugging his earbuds from his ears, looking down in concern. His brows are pulled together, droplets of sweat rippling over his forehead, and his lips...damn, his lips. They're full and glistening with the sheen of his sweat.

"Tanner."

"Tanner," I repeat, not letting go of him. He hasn't let go either. His hands are a vice grip on my waist, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into my hipbones. Their heat sizzles over the cotton of my pale pink dress. His scent slams into me with another gust of wind from the ocean, and I look up, meeting his sapphire gaze. His tall, muscular frame takes up all of the space, shutting everything else out. It's smothering, but I'm ensnared, unable to pry myself away. If this is what it feels like to be this close to this man, no wonder his brunette girlfriend—or plaything—has trouble saying no to him in public places. Hell, he could tell me to jump and I'd say how high.

"Are you hurt?" he asks, eyes scanning me from left to right, head to toe. "I was lost in my music. I apologize."

"I'm fine," I release a nervous laugh, "it was my fault." With a little shake of my head, I muster up the sense to release his arms. I shift to step back, but he holds me in place, his fingers stone on my hips.

"You're sure."

"Yes, absolutely. I just had a—" I stutter, glancing around for a lifeline. I have none. I have no excuse other than the fear won this round. "I just had a...moment. It was nothing."

"It doesn't look like nothing. You're shaking. Maybe you should sit down." He flexes his grip on my waist and smoothes his hands around to my lower back, working to steady me. My gaze lands on his hard, bare abdomen, and I'm assaulted with chiseled rows of muscle that are no doubt a product of his nightly jogging regimen. My cheeks flame and I instantly feel like that stupid broad in a romance novel who blushes at every turn. That's what I get for reading all of those lame romance novels in high school, and unfortunately Tanner Christensen is the type of man who brings about that damned habit.

I summon the will to step back and this time Tanner relents, carefully releasing me. He glances around, relaxing his hands on his hips.

"Do you always go wandering around alone at midnight?" A little smirk creeps up, and a hard jolt of wind rustles his golden blonde hair.

"Do you always jog half naked in freezing cold weather?"

His brow arches and the smirk grows. "Freezing cold? I think that's a bit exaggerated, don't you?"

"Okay, well it is damned cold this time of night."

"True. And I am half naked." That cocky undertone I sensed before surfaces, and I can't help but smile.

The faint tap of footsteps approaches, another jogger passing by with a quick wave. Tanner and I wave back.

"It's a little late for a run," I say.

"It's my favorite time to run. Especially on the ship." He exhales, his hands still planted on his hips, and casts a glance outward, toward the ocean. "So peaceful at night."

"That's one adjective that comes to mind," I mumble, shifting my gaze.

"What's that?"

"Nothing," I say a little louder, returning my eyes to his. "Well, I better be off. Sorry to have interrupted your jog."

"How are you holding up?" He pipes up as I start to walk around him. The boat rolls beneath our feet and we sway with it, naturally bending our knees to accommodate the shift.

I still. "How am I holding up?"

He licks his lips and looks sheepish for a moment, scratching below his chin. "Yeah, I mean, being...intimidated by the water, and all. It's been smooth sailing so far, don't you think?"

"Smooth?" I laugh, my eyebrows shooting up. "If this is smooth, I'm afraid of what awaits me the next 11 days."

"Nah, this is nothing. We've had much worse, believe me."

A lump forms in my throat like a stone. I force it down. "I'll take your word for it."

"I was afraid of the ocean once, you know." He looks away, down at the deck, and crosses his arms over his chest. "I've found the key to conquering that fear is to own it."

"You, afraid of the ocean? How is that possible?" A surprised laugh flutters from my lips and I gesture around us. "This is all yours."

"No," he shakes his head with determination, "this is all mine." He presses a finger to his temple and points to his head. "Fear is all a battle of the mind. I choose to own mine. You can, too."

"If it were that simple, there would be no such thing as anxiety medication. No such thing as therapy. Not everyone has that power."

"That's true," he shrugs, lifting his gaze back to me, "and those are useful, legitimate tools in times of need. But in the end, we are always alone with our mind, whether we have help or not. We can't escape its damage, we can only learn to manage it." His expression turns pensive, the deep swirls of his indigo irises flashing somewhere distant, once again out toward the ocean, as if it's calling to him. I want to call him back from wherever he is, want to ask him why he was once afraid of the ocean, but instead I remain silent, waiting.

He stares out at the sea a moment more before breaking the trance that captured him, settling his earnest gaze on me once again. "So, Miss Banks, what are your plans tomorrow?"

"Anya."

"Anya," he chuckles lightly and a ghost of a smile returns, dispelling the heavy solemnness from moments ago.

"I'm not sure yet. I think I'm sleeping in, and then who knows. No doubt Lana has my agenda all laid out for me. She's a planner. It drives me mad."

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

"I'm sure we will."

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

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

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

I swallow.

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

"Well, I don't know, I guess—"

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

"I'll speak to Lana about it. Thanks for the offer."

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

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

THREE

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

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

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

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

"Lana!"

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

"We're reviewing the cruise liner."

"So?"

"His cruise liner."

"Still not gettin' it."

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

"It's nothing like sleeping with our boss. Girl, what have you been smokin'?"

"Forget it."

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

"What do you mean, what's with me?"

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

"Lan, will you please not speak in Justin Timberlake?"

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

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

"An eight-month-long fling."

"So?"

"So, you obviously had some feelings for him, even if they didn't run very deep."

"It was nothing serious. Jeremiah's history."

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

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

"Mediocre. You settled. And now you're in a funk."

"I'm not in a funk."

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

I fling a pillow at her.

"And then there's the whole drowning thing..."

"Don't go there. Please."

"I know you don't like talking about it, but what better time is there to confront it?"

"I am confronting it by being here."

"Fine. I won't push it."

"Good."

"But I will push you right into Christensen's bed, if that's what it takes."

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

"So?"

"He was about to..."

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

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

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

"Because I crashed their party."

"Oh my God, that's so hot."

"Yeah, well. Was. Before I ruined their fun."

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

"Sure of what?"

"You positively have to sleep with him."

"And how do you figure that?"

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

"Did you not just hear what I said?"

"Anya."

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

"He told you that?"

"It came up in conversation."

"Then he just gave you a massive green light!"

"You're crazy."

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

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

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

It is not a proud moment.

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

"Where're you going?" Lana asks from behind the bathroom door.

"I have some business to take care of. I'll be back in time for dinner."

"Okay, fine. Have fun!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I can't stop myself.

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

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

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

"You're in my chair."

"I was."

"You...you cleaned." Tanner's gaze drops to the desk, scanning the now-neat clutter.

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

I kind of did.

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

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

"They were horrid. I had to do it."

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

"They were giving me a headache."

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

"Neurotic writer."

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

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

"I'm glad you came. Lana approves, I presume?"

"I didn't speak to her about it, actually."

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

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

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

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

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

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

"It's personal. I'm sure you understand."

"Surely you've been asked this before, Mr. Christensen."

His brows rise.

"I think it's quite relevant to your position as owner of this ship, don't you?"

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

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

"Are you a travel writer or a reporter?"

"Just yesterday you said—"

"I invited you here to learn about my ship."

"I'm trying to learn about your ship."

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

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

"I think the fact that I'm not married has already been established."

"And you don't date."

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

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

"I'll answer your question, Miss Banks."

"Anya."

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

"Define play."

"Do you really need a definition?"

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

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

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

"No." His jaw flexes as he eyes the books. "They were my father's."

"Was this your father's office?"

"This was his ship."

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

"No wonder?"

"You're so..."

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

"Young."

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

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

He squares his shoulders and steps forward, the tips of his shoes just inches from mine. Instinctually, I back up, until I'm flush with the bookshelf. "While we're on the subject of being forward," he dips his fingers into his suit pocket and retrieves a business card, "have dinner with me."

My heels hit the bottom of the wall and the back of my head bumps the shelf. I raise a hand to soothe my skull. "Dinner?"

"Do you play, Anya Banks?" His lips quirk.

"Tanner," I swallow hard, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"You're right. I do appreciate honesty. And the truth is there's no shame in mixing business with pleasure, as long as it's mutual, wouldn't you agree?"

"What about the feature?"

"What about it? I have no doubt you'll report honestly to Lana and that she'll write a truthful, quality piece on my ship. You having dinner with me won't affect the job you came here to do, Anya."

"How can you be so sure of that?" I scan his face—his confident, self-assured face. He's a rock, and I'm scrambling to hang on. This man ensnares me.

"Because anyone can see you're a strong, smart woman with integrity." He extends the card, holding it in front of my face. "You won't ever compromise that."

I glance at it, hesitantly lifting my hand to accept, and he watches the card pass between us. I wait for him to back up, to let me reclaim my space, but he doesn't move.

"I'll tell you over dinner why I was afraid of the ocean."

"I haven't agreed to dinner yet."

His eyes flick to the card resting between my fingers and he grins smugly.

"I thought that topic wasn't open for discussion."

"It will be if you eat with me."

"Tanner—"

He steps forward, leaning over to bring his lips to my ear. "Say yes," he whispers, finding my hand and brushing his thumb over my knuckles. My skin ignites from head to toe and my breath turns shallow. All reminders of his brunette plaything vanish as he swallows up the space, covering me in his web. And it hits me—he plays. And that's exactly what I'm on this cruise ship to do.

To play.

"Yes," I say, curling the business card under my fist. "When?"

He pulls back to respond but a beeping interrupts him, followed by a buzz from the phone's intercom.

"Mr. Christensen," Heidi's voice floats from the line, "Miss Jade Simmons for you, on line three. She's being rather persistent."

The spell is broken. Tanner's charming smile turns to stone and his jaw hardens as he moves to walk to his desk. Without a word, he snatches up the phone and stabs a button, his voice low and stern. "Jade, I don't have time for this." I stand there awkwardly, looking everywhere but at him, but I sense his eyes on me. I chance a peek and he raises a finger, signaling me to wait. "Yes, I know. I've heard all of this before. We'll talk after the sailing." There's a pause and a muscle in his jaw pops, his gaze jumping away from mine. "No. I'll call you back in five minutes, then." He hangs up and inhales sharply, remaining stationed behind his desk. "I'm sorry to cut our interview short, Anya. But I have an urgent call to take care of. How about tomorrow night? Seven p.m. at Felina's Bistro on Deck 8 Aft?"

"Okay, that sounds great." I start forward to grab my bag and quickly turn for the door.

"Anya," he calls after me. I spin around. "I'm looking forward to it." His expression softens a bit, but the tension still holds his beautiful features ransom.

"Me, too." I nod and quickly dash from the office, flustered by what just transpired. It looks like Lana might get her wish, and I'm certain when I deliver the news to her, she'll explode with excitement. Maybe I'll keep it under wraps for a bit so she doesn't drive me crazy.

Hurrying back to the room, I wrestle to avoid thinking about the light sway of the ship. I can feel it rocking, but it's nowhere near as noticeable as it was the night before.

"Hey!" Lana's head appears around the corner when I step into the cabin. "How'd it go?"

"Good, I think."

"Good, you think?"

I give a brisk nod and open my suitcase, suddenly fixated on what to wear tomorrow night.

"Where did you go?"

"Just had to interview a staff member for the piece. I think I'm going to have some great material for you to work with."

"Oh? Who on the staff?"

I fluff a sundress and shake out a scarf, picking pieces of lint from the material. "Does this look faded to you? I think it's faded."

"Anya..."

I hold the scarf higher, examining it under the light. I should've thought my response through, should've prepared for Lana's inquisition. Lana pinches my shoulder. "Ow! Do you mind?"

"Who did you interview?"

I drop the scarf back onto the pile of clothing in the suitcase and glance at her. She's standing there, tapping her foot.

"Tanner Christensen," I huff, spinning to dart for the bathroom. "Go ahead, enjoy your victory dance."

"What?" she squeals and springs to the left, blocking my path. "Seriously?"

"I'm having dinner with him tomorrow night. We didn't get to finish the interview." I stop and glare, waiting for her to get out of my way. I don't even know why I'm heading to the bathroom. No one can hide from Lana Crawley. When this redhead wants something, she gets it.

"Glory be and a side of freaking hallelujah!" She slaps my shoulder. "Anya Banks, I knew there was a vixen still in there somewhere. Did you ask him out? Did he ask you? Are you going back to his place or coming back here? Oh my God, what'll you wear? I bet that man has some serious equipment and knows how to use it." She spins around and starts a feverish search through my suitcase for the perfect outfit.

"I knew you'd be thrilled," I laugh, watching her fingers frantically dig to the bottom of the clothes pile.

"Damn straight, I'm thrilled! Now the question is, what're we doing tonight to celebrate the good news?" She wiggles her eyebrows and plucks up my ruby red dress, studying it with determination. "This is the one."

"You think?"

"Oh, I know. Wear that and you won't make it to dessert."

I fold my arms and lean on the bathroom door frame, cocking my head. "Okay. It's the one."

Lana smiles widely and I fill her in on the rest of my visit with Mr. Christensen as we get ready to head out to enjoy the rest of the day. We decide on dinner and some karaoke later, but all that keeps running through my mind is a pair of cerulean eyes, a baby blue tie, and what I've just gotten myself into by agreeing to have dinner with the man they belong to. Maybe it can't hurt to play.

Maybe it's just what I need.

FOUR

Lana's eyes grow as big as golf balls when she spots the bread selection. We opted for one of the more casual restaurants for dinner, which offers an enormous buffet and mouthwatering gourmet desserts. Basically, heaven in the mouth.

"Oh, I'm about to say screw the main course." Lana jumps in the bread line, salivating as she snatches a plate. "All a girl needs is bread and chocolate to survive in this world."

A pretty blonde behind her giggles as she stands there with her plate in hand, ready to dive in. "Girl, ain't it the truth?" she jokes, nodding emphatically.

Lana does a little twirl to eye the girl, but her line of sight never really leaves the warm loaves of bread and baskets of rolls. "Right? It's a miracle I'm not a hundred pounds heavier, because I swear food is the love of my life."

"Oh my God, me too! Do you watch the Food Network?"

"Sweetie, I DVR that shit."

"Me, too!"

"I mean, really? Who needs a man when you can have bread?"

"I know!"

I stand to the side of them idly, listening as they launch into chatting about their mutual love affair with food. They simultaneously load up their plates and I hone in on the dessert buffet, where my heart really lies.

"Be right back," I say to Lana, who couldn't give a flying leap that I've disappeared. She's too consumed in her conversation with the blonde to notice. Once I'm satisfied with my selection of chocolate-covered strawberries, cheesecake bites, and cream puffs, I return to search for Lana and find she's already seated at a table near the window. The blonde sits next to her, giving me a friendly wave.

"Anya, this is Brie—spelled like the cheese. She's a receptionist from Fort Lauderdale and she's in love with carbs."

"Hi, my name's Brie, and I'm a carbaholic, and it's been one day since my last slice of bread."

"Welcome, Brie," Lana and I chant in unison. "Admitting you have a problem is the first step." The three of us burst out laughing, and instantly, a friendship is born. We spend the next hour talking men, ice cream, and shoes, and by the end of dinner, I'm pretty sure that no other girl-talk discussion has ever topped the one we've just had.

Lana and I part ways with Brie, insisting if she's free later to join us at the karaoke lounge. In no time, we're back in the cabin for a quick shower and to preen for our evening out. I thank the gods of the sea that today's been a day of smooth sailing, even more excited that the next two days, we dock on the Trident Voyager's private Bahamian island. That means two whole days of no sailing, and pure beach bliss. So far, Lana and I have taken notes of everything from the food and the service to the décor and ambience, and we're sold. As it stands, The Trident Voyager officially gets an A+ from Four Corners Elite.

Once we're fully primped and refreshed, we head down to the karaoke lounge. It's boisterous and full of life, complete with elegant chandeliers, low lighting, and posh, gray booths paired with industrial chrome tables. The TV screens are top of the line and ultra-modern, and the waiters are decked out in uniform blazers. Everywhere we look, groups of girlfriends are laughing as they show off their tanned shoulders in sleeveless dresses, and couples sit canoodling over martini glasses and menus. A woman's on stage singing "I Will Survive."

"Dear God, make it stop," Lana cringes on a laugh, grabbing my hand to pull us over to the first table she spots.

"She's not that bad."

"Girl, please. That's worse than nails on a chalkboard. Sit!" She scoots into the booth and plucks up one of the song menus, eyes lighting up as she scans the selection. "Oh! Oh! I've gotta sing Fergie."

A laugh bubbles up and I grab one of the menus for myself, wishing I had half the nerve Lana does when it comes to being in the spotlight. I remind myself I'm on this ship to be brave, though, and decide to give myself a swift kick in the ass. I point and throw the menu down with a determined thud. "I'm doing Adele's 'Rumor Has It.'"

"Anya Banks, I'm so proud." Her head flops to the side and she bats her lashes. "Look at you, taking the reins on the sea, your libido, and the karaoke mic all in one week!"

I drop my head in my hands and laugh. "Don't jinx it, I could still chicken out."

"Oh, you won't. By the end of the night, you will conquer that stage. And tomorrow you'll be rolling around in Tanner's bed—relaxed and glowing. You'll see."

"I've never done anything like this, Lan."

"That's exactly the point! This is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. Don't overthink this. Just enjoy it. And be sure to report back. I want all the dirty details, and I do mean all."

"What if he's not...I mean, what if he doesn't want that with me? What if all he wants is dinner? Dinner doesn't automatically lead to sex." It doesn't matter what Lana says—I can't help but overthink it, because I'm not the least bit casual when it comes to sex. I don't believe in giving it to just anyone, so this is brand new territory for me. My body's a temple and all that jazz.

"Anya, no man ever just wants dinner. Wear that red dress and he'll get the message, loud and clear. Hell, you're already on a roll, why not just jump him in the elevator? He'd love it." She rubs her hands together excitedly and then reaches for the little sheets of paper from the basket in the middle of the table. She scribbles our names and song choices down and waves for a waiter. "Trust me, the good news about one innocent, casual fling is that it's just that—casual. No expectations, no nothing. You'll step off this ship when the cruise is over and you'll never see him again. No strings attached. Just what you need to shake yourself from this funk. He's clearly not in the market for anything serious himself, so nothing to feel guilty about."

"I am not in a funk!"

"Says the girl who is indeed in a funk." I roll up my napkin and toss it at her but she dodges it, leaning to the right. "Mark my words, An. You'll be a brand new woman when you leave this ship." The waiter returns and takes our drink order, and ten minutes later, Lana's name is called by the karaoke host. The crowd hoots and claps to cheer her on, and she hurries up to the stage. I can't contain my grin as she raps the first few bars of "Fergalicious," pouting her lips and batting her eyes animatedly. Her performance is over way too soon, and before I know it, my name is called next. Lana takes a dramatic bow and trots off the stage, squeezing my shoulder to cheer me on as she takes a seat at the table.

I slug back a swig of my drink and spring to my feet, high-tailing it toward the stage before I lose my nerve. The lights flash hot on my face and I squint, searching for the lyrics on the TV screen. I listen to Adele on repeat, but it's all too easy for me to forget the words when I'm standing up in front of a room full of people like this. The music starts and I begin to follow along, my voice shaky at first. Slowly, my confidence builds and I start to loosen up, enjoying the spotlight for possibly the first time in my life. My hips begin to sway and my shoulders follow suit, rocking to the rhythm as I belt the soulful words.

Once I'm comfortable enough to look away from the screen, I look out into the crowd. People are clapping and smiling good naturedly, and Lana is waving her hands in the air like the mad woman she is. I wink at her and shimmy my shoulders, closing my eyes as I surrender to the music. When I open them, my gaze falls behind Lana, on the far wall near the entrance, landing on a very intense, focused set of blue eyes. They're fixated right on me, watching my every move. My hips slow for a moment as I stare back at Tanner, but I don't let myself lose pace. The Anya who walked onto this ship would falter. Gutsy Anya would finish off the performance with a bang, and I want to be Gutsy Anya.

The song's bridge begins and I slide the microphone off the stand and strut down the stage's front steps, toward Lana. She's pumping her fist in the air, thrilled that I've yielded to Gutsy Anya, but it's not Lana I stroll toward. I wink in her direction and slip around our booth to step in front of Tanner, who's smiling down at me with acute interest. I sway in front of him and hold his gaze.

The chorus resumes and I unravel my scarf, playfully sliding it over his shoulder. I turn and place my back to his chest, feeling the warmth of his firm hand move to cup the side of my elbow. I glance over my shoulder and peek up, and my eyes latch onto his. Raw, sizzling desire burns there, mixed with a glimmer of humor. I can feel every eye in the room on us, but Tanner's are penetrating, locking me in a complete standstill. I'm dazed for a second but quickly snap myself out of it to return to the stage as I hear the song coming to an end. A lively bout of applause follows my performance, and the second the microphone is back on its stand, I duck my head and hurry back to the table, where Tanner now sits with Lana.

"That was quite the show, Miss Banks," he says, standing to meet me.

"You were a rock star, woman!" Lana high fives me and suddenly all I want to do is hide under the table. The rush of confidence has faded, and now Tanner Christensen is here, staring me down.

"What are you doing here?" I ask him, hoping to change the subject.

"Just doing my evening rounds. It looks like you ladies are having a great time."

"That we are," Lana chirps, sipping her drink.

"I hate to intrude on girls' night," Tanner glances at Lana, "but would you mind if I stole Anya away for a few hours?"

Lana jumps in before I have a second to speak. "Are you kiddin'? Whisk her away as long as you want, Mr. Christensen. She's all yours."

"I am?"

"You are." She smiles sweetly and nods to Tanner. "Have fun, An."

I look to Tanner and he extends his arm with an expectant smirk. I can't resist that smile, or those damned blue eyes, or that suit, or that insanely sexy body, so I step forward and slip my arm in his.

"Where to?" I ask as he escorts me out of the lounge.

"My place."

"Your place?"

He nods and keeps a firm grip on my arm, leading me toward the elevator.

"I wasn't expecting to see you until tomorrow night."

"I wasn't expecting to see you, either. I'm glad I did. I realize now I don't want to wait."

The elevator doors open and a couple steps out, leaving us with the space.

"You couldn't wait one night?" I laugh, letting him take my hand to lead me inside.

"Not for this," he says the second the doors close. He presses me against the cool metal. A quiet gasp breaks free and my shoulders tense up as his mouth connects with mine. The heat of his lips melts away the tension and I sink into him, sparks of energy crackling against his touch. His body curves and fits with mine, locking me in a tight embrace. His tongue explores mine as he brings his hand up to rub my earlobe between the pads of his fingers. I reach for his shoulders and his tall body leans forward and presses me further back. What is it with this man and public places?

"Tanner," I breathe, gripping at his tie. "What about dinner?"

"I love the way you say my name," he whispers gruffly. "I'll love it even more when you say it as you come." His hand floats down and cups the apex of my thighs. He doesn't move, just teases with a push of firm, tight pressure. A small moan leaks from my mouth and slips into his. "Do you want me?"

Disbelief washes over me. I can't believe I'm doing this. "Yes."

"Not yet," he breathes against my ear.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open, welcoming a rush of chilly air into the lift. It hits my cheeks and I'm thankful for the relief. Tanner leads me out into the hall, briskly nodding at the people waiting to pass us. I'm still flustered as he directs me up a central, winding stairwell to two wide, dark sliding doors. He reaches for the keypad and punches in a code, and the doors slide open with grace, revealing what could only be the equivalent of a high-rise penthouse apartment. The cabin's view is just as awe-inspiring as his office view, and the décor is clean and masculine, with nautical touches scattered around the room.

"Wow." My brain struggles to take in the full effect of the space, and is thwarted when Tanner recaptures my attention. He steps in my line of sight and slowly prowls toward me, lazily loosening his tie. He looks around, taking in his own domain. I am convinced he can hear the thudding of my wildly beating heart echoing off the walls.

"I agree."

"Have you lived here long?"

"Just out of curiosity," he stops before me with a playful twist of his lips, "did you do any research on me or my ship before you came aboard to review it?"

"Well..."

"Be honest, Anya."

"I might have read an article or two."

"Is that so?" He reaches out and gingerly runs his finger along my dress strap, then tugs gently on the edge of my scarf. My eyes follow his movements. Each one makes me squirm.

Suddenly I can't stay still.

I step to the left, away from his skilled fingers and over to the dining area. "If I admit I didn't, will you refuse to finish the interview?"

"Of course not. I like that you know nothing about me or my ship." I feel him before I see him. He comes up from behind and pushes my hair aside to drop a soft kiss on my shoulder. "It means I get to show you exactly who I am. One thing you'll quickly learn about me is that I like action." His hand grips my hip and his fingers brush over my torso. "I like to let my actions do all the talking."

"And you're a man of your word," I say breathily.

His nose pushes into my hair. "See? You're learning so much already."

"Tanner," I swim through the foggy haze of desire he's stirring and wiggle away from his touch to turn around. "I have a confession." He stares down at me and the fire in his eyes nearly singes my clothes right off. "I don't...I don't play. I've never played. I don't know how to play."

There's a slight tilt of his head as he considers my words. "You're a commitment kind of woman."

"Yes."

"Yet you're here with me."

"Yes."

"Well," he inhales deeply and finishes undoing his tie, "I respect that. Perhaps I misread you. If so, I apologize."

"No." I stutter and step forward, determined to follow through. "You didn't misread me. I do want this. This type of thing is just...not something I normally do."

"I see." He quiets for a moment. "In that case, how about this? I'll commit to you for the remainder of the sailing. I'm all yours until we dock at Port Canaveral. Not much of a commitment, I suppose, but it's what I can offer."

"Wait. Like an arrangement? Does that mean no other brunettes in the hallway?"

"It means no other women while you're on this ship. Period. Will that suffice?"

"You're saying you'd—"

"Worship your body exclusively for the next ten days? Yes."

A rush of air punches from my lungs as he says the words. His expression is 100 percent serious, and something about the certainty of his tone and the confidence lurking in his baby blues sends a wave of heat rolling down my spine. "Okay," I squeak, "that can...that can work."

"We'll keep business separate. We'll still meet for dinner tomorrow evening and you can interview me for as long as you'd like. But right now, I want to see you face down, naked on my bed. If you agree."

I start to speak, but the words stall on my tongue. I watch as Tanner carefully steps aside to clear the path to the bedroom, giving me a choice. The bed is visible from where we stand in the dining room area, draped in silky silver duvet and bright white sheets. I don't give myself a second more to think about it, I just begin to walk forward. A slow, sensual smile curls his lips as he gestures for me to enter his lair, and I comply, feeling the room swallow me up the second he closes the door behind us.

I walk to the edge of the bed and he instructs me to turn around. I focus on the headboard as I turn my back to him. My palms begin to sweat. Why didn't Lana tell me it would be like this? Why didn't she prepare me? Or are all casual hook-ups as intimidating as Tanner Christensen? I freeze when I feel him against me, his erection pressing against my ass, his hands sliding slowly down my arms. Never have I been with a man who makes me feel like a virgin all over again.

"Relax, baby," he whispers against my neck, slowly inching his fingers up the sides of my thighs, pushing my dress up as he goes. "I'm going to take good care of you." I close my eyes and inhale deeply, letting my head fall back until it rolls onto his shoulder. His warm thumbs slip into the sides of my panties and he peels them down my hips, hooking his thumbs along the lace edges. The black material hits my feet and he taps each thigh as he crouches down. He tugs the panties from my feet and rises, bringing my dress up over my head as he moves. My nipples respond pertly. I stand there, naked and waiting.

Hard metal clinks and meets the soft pull of leather, followed by the swift sound of a zipper releasing. A light wisp of air caresses my legs—his pants dropping to the floor behind me. And then he's against me again, and he's nothing but hard, hot male. His hands land on my hips, smooth, firm, and determined. My knees feel weak. I think I might pass out. That would no doubt kill Lana's dreams.

"Lie down. Face down, ass up," Tanner instructs. His voice seeps into me like lava and everything in me wants to turn around, to face him and smash my mouth on his, but I obey his command and crawl onto the bed, prone, just as he tells me to. My body hits the cool satin and I cradle my head on my arms, turning to rest on the side of my cheek. I'm able to catch a glimpse of him over my shoulder, and my reflexes almost send me flipping onto my back so I can get a better look. I've seen his bare body while he jogs, but nothing compares to seeing it stark naked and standing at the foot of the bed.

I feel his eyes all over me.

"Not yet, Anya." His voice shifts, powerful and patient, all at once. I look away and remain still, sucking in a sharp breath when he starts forward and climbs over me, scooting up on his knees. He bends and I can't see him anymore, can only feel the hot breath of his mouth meet the small of my back. He presses a kiss there, and then his tongue is on me, flat and focused, licking a trail up my spine. He stops halfway and finishes the trail with a light brush of his lips, sending goose bumps all the way up to my neck. His hand smooths over my ass and grips hard, pinching along the curve. His mouth lands where his fingers have just been, kissing along the round swell before travelling back up. "Tell me what pleases you."

"This," I choke out, "this pleases me."

"And this?" He slips a hand between my thighs and slides it upward, parting my legs until they spread for him. The tips of his fingers brush my entrance and then delve inside, pushing deep. I can't control the moan that emanates from my chest.

"Yeah, that."

"So patient," he breathes, beginning a slow pump of his fingers. "And so obedient. I wonder what you'd do if I let you have your way with me."

"Let me turn over and you'll find out." The words come out in a rush, before I can filter them. Holy shit, did I just say that?

"You'll get your turn," Tanner chuckles quietly, withdrawing his fingers. A wet smack fills the air, his mouth sucking his fingers. "First, I need a taste of that," he slides his fingers back down, over my slick wetness, "right there." Heat swells low in my belly and my nipples strain against the satin comforter.

Tanner dips his head again, leaning down to lick the path his fingers just traveled. His cheeks and chin are smooth against my delicate skin. He teases and sucks, groaning against my wet flesh, and I nearly come right there, but my body holds back, telling me to wait.

"Not yet," he says again, as if reading my mind. His mouth leaves my entrance and he crawls up over me, digging his teeth into my shoulder blade. He settles himself on his elbows, and then I feel him between my thighs, gently prodding, searching for a way in. My clit is pulsating. "You're exquisite, Anya. Tell me," he tips his hips, "when's the last time you've been with a man?"

My body stiffens. "Why?"

"I'd like to know."

"It's been a while."

"Did he satisfy you?"

"I...I don't know."

He tips his hips again, brushing against me. It's divine torture. "I think you'd know if you were satisfied."

"He was considerate, I guess."

"Considerate is good. But did he know how to please you?"

My fingers curl around the edges of the pillow. "No." A tightness begins to twitch behind my ribcage.

He kisses along my shoulder and his throat hums against my skin. "Well, I know how. And when I'm done with you, you'll know what it means to be satisfied."

"I'm a little nervous." I wiggle beneath him, attempting to push out some of the tension that's seeped back into my bones.

"Take your time, baby. Breathe and let me in when you're ready." He rests himself against me, his hard flesh throbbing, and I close my eyes, dragging in a long, slow breath. I gently push back against him, letting him know I'm ready for him, and he carefully slides in, lowering his forehead to my shoulder as he rolls his hips forward. A joint exhale fills the room, and my entire body disintegrates on the mattress as he begins to take me. All my body registers is the heavenly feel of him stretching and filling me, his heat blanketing my back, but my mind is fixed on the pace he's setting—slow and measured, as if he knows I need the tameness right now.

My body begins to move in rhythm with his, and my grip relaxes on the pillow. He caresses my shoulder and explores a trail down my side, running his palm along the curve of my breast and over the flare of my hip, where he stops to grip. Each touch is luxurious and gentle. He's not treating me like an object; he's not fucking me. He's making love, and it's the very last thing I expected from a man like Tanner Christensen.

"Feel good, baby?" He nudges my ear and bites down on the sensitive flesh, until it stings.

"Yes," I say with a raspy breath, "incredible."

He pulls out and rolls me onto my back, and when his eyes find mine, the room tilts. The space is too small, his beating heart too close, those eyes too penetrating. He sinks back into me on a strained groan, and he covers me as if he needs me to breathe. His forearms form a tight cage around my head, his fingers weaving through my hair as his hips resume their rhythm.

"Show me how to please you, Anya." He drops his head and breathes against my neck. "Don't be shy."

One of my hands glides up to grab at his forearm, directing his hand to my breast. I press his palm against me and he responds immediately, gripping hard, rubbing in soft, easy circles. I moan and his smile spreads against my neck, his lips curving in satisfaction. "Tanner," I whisper, question in my voice, "kiss me?"

"My pleasure." He lifts his head and pauses, fixing his eyes on me first, then lowers his mouth to mine, tracing my bottom lip with his tongue, beckoning me to open for him. Unlike his caresses, his kiss is hard, hungry, sending my arms in a firm knot around his neck. Our noses brush, his head tilting to bring his tongue deeper, and suddenly the pace of his hips begins to shift, our bodies moving faster, more urgently.

He pulls back from my mouth. "You're close. I can feel it," he pants, our breaths mingling.

"Don't stop."

"Lock your ankles, baby." He reaches down and hitches my legs higher up his waist, sending himself deeper. "Do you like that?"

"God, yes." My gaze rolls south to watch our bodies join and merge, my hips rising to meet his thrusts. His fingers drift to my navel, over my core, and he picks up the pace, his hand roaming back up to my breast. He thumbs my nipple and cups me, using the heel of his palm to rub more circles against the swell. I can tell he's close, too; he's throbbing inside of me, the pounding as desperate as his heartbeat against my chest.

He rocks into me, dropping his head to tease my collarbone with his tongue. I can't hold my moans back—why am I even trying to? With each push of his hips, I grow more vocal, less inhibited, surrendering to the way this man is playing my body like a fine instrument. The intimacy suffocates me, Tanner's intense gaze leaving chills in its wake. My body is burning, but the sheets are cold against my sweaty back. I don't want the high to end, but I can feel myself tipping, can feel him tumbling over inside of me.

"Tanner!" I shout, lifting my hips and straining against him. My head snaps to the side, bearing down against the mattress. His teeth sting my neck and he groans roughly, his knees sliding and pressing into the sheets next to mine. The muscles in his thighs undulate and I let go, my back bowing and rising to meet his chest. He grips my ass and rears forward, his nostrils flaring against my throat as he follows me, coming on a loud moan.

"Anya," he sighs, his body shuddering while I continue to shatter, pushing and pushing until he's completely empty. My hips drop, the small of my back smacking the mattress, and I begin a descent. Tanner deflates, his weight crushing me, but it's so glorious, I don't struggle, just let it send me sinking into the sheets. "I knew it," he grins into my throat.

"Knew what?"

"My name sounds even better rolling off your lips when you come."

My fingers find his hair, sliding effortlessly through the disheveled sea of blonde. I smile. "You're quite self-satisfied, aren't you, Mr. Christensen?"

"Quite," he answers unapologetically, rolling onto his side to lean on his elbow. His gaze drops to dance over my bare breasts. He grins slowly. "You're a work of art, Miss Banks. It's a shame the last guy didn't know how to touch you. He missed out."

My cheeks burn and I look down.

Tanner's finger extends, tipping my chin up. He finds my eyes. "A woman like you deserves a man, Anya. Don't settle."

A disbelieving laugh breaks free. "A woman like me? You don't know me."

"I know a goddess when I see one."

I roll my eyes and send him a smartass grin. "I've already spread my legs for you. You don't have to spout those lines."

"Oh," he chuckles, pinching my hip. "Fresh. I knew there was some sass in there somewhere." He bends and plants a kiss on my cheek. He quiets, watching me intently.

I stare up, waiting. "What is it?"

"I want you to write the feature for your magazine, not Lana."

"What?" I laugh, stunned by his audacity.

"You should write it. You should get the credit."

"Um...hate to break it to you, but I have a boss to answer to, unlike you. And he assigned Lana to write it, not me."

"He's a stupid man."

"Lana's a fantastic writer! You know nothing about her."

"I know nothing about you, too, apparently." He arches a brow.

"You don't." I narrow my eyes and peck his nose. "So mind your business."

"My business this week is spoiling you rotten, so anything that concerns you is therefore my business. I'm going to speak to this boss of yours." He shifts off the bed and stands fluidly to his feet, lazily stretching his arm above his head, ruffling his hair. The muscles in his shoulders swell and retract.

I sit up, drooling. "Excuse me! You'll do no such thing."

"That's another thing you'll quickly learn about me, Anya Banks." He turns, his hands landing on the chiseled dips of his hips. "I have the power of influence. And I like to use it as I see fit."

"Tanner," I plead, tugging the sheet to my waist.

"You spread your legs for me," he says, turning for the bathroom. "I reserve every right to treat you like a queen. The feature is yours."

He smiles wickedly as he shuts the bathroom door. I betray my solid objection with a giggle and haul a pillow at him. It's too late, of course. It smacks the door with a thud and falls to the floor. I flop back onto the mattress and stare up at the ceiling. I've underestimated myself. I've underestimated Tanner Christensen. It's unexpected, thrilling, and nerve wracking all at the same time. I don't complain, just surrender to it all and settle back into the sheets. My eyes drift shut, carrying me to a dreamy, tropical paradise, where Tanner is the god of the sea, and I'm his goddess.

FIVE

My lashes flutter. I'm wide awake. My heart is racing, my forehead sweating. It was only a dream, I tell myself. The roaring waves still beat at my face, the current still tugs at my torso, whiplashing my body like a tree branch in a wind storm. And I can't see her. I can't find her hand. My head is pulled under and I fight for the surface, gasping for breath.

It was only a dream.

Suddenly I'm aware of the firm, warm arm that curls around me. My gaze rolls to the left and I see him. Tanner Christensen. I exhale quietly and snuggle closer, wiggling into the crook of his arm, resting my head against his chest. Visions of the night before bombard me. It was heady, luscious, and not nearly as disconnected as I'd expected a casual roll in the hay to be. We fell asleep for a while, then woke up for another round, which lasted well past midnight. Tanner Christensen has skills. He knows just how to touch me, just what to say and when, and those discoveries tell me he does, in fact, play. I try not to dwell on that thought, and instead pay attention to the rumbling in my stomach.

I glance up at Tanner, who's dead to the world. His face is so peaceful, his chest rising and falling with soft breaths. I wiggle from his grip and sneak out of bed, retrieving my crumpled panties from the floor and slipping them on. I pad over to his closet, opting to snatch one of his shirts from a hanger instead of pulling on my dress from the night before. I choose the first one I see, a pale blue button-up, crisp and ironed to perfection. I slide it on and fasten a few of the buttons, then fluff my hair out, tiptoeing to the kitchen next.

I close the bedroom door quietly, wandering onto the sleek, black floor. The tile is marble, with golden specks in it, matching the counters. It looks spotless and polished to a high shine, and I wonder, remembering the immoderate bread buffet from yesterday evening, if Tanner never has to cook a thing. I pull open the refrigerator, and to my surprise, it is filled with every fresh fruit and vegetable imaginable, plus an infinite supply of bottled water. I reach for the eggs, milk, and bacon, and search the cupboards for the pots and pans. I make sure the bacon is crispy and add shredded cheese to the scrambled eggs, eager to sate the loud growling in my belly. I dig through a drawer for a fork and decide to take two, pushing some of the breakfast onto another plate for Tanner.

Opening the bedroom door with two plates in my hand is tricky, but I manage. When I enter, there's a little movement from the bed, Tanner's legs shifting beneath the blanket. His arms come up and he lifts his head, folding them underneath. His eyes slowly flicker open, working to focus on me as I stand there at the edge of the bed, plates in hand.

"Um...I made breakfast. Hope you don't mind. I was starving."

"Of course not," he responds, voice groggy. He sleepily pats the space next to him and moves to sit up against the headboard. The blanket falls to his waist, revealing that impressive, rigid abdomen. I climb into bed and scoot up next to him, placing one plate on his lap. He eyes the plate, then me, studying his shirt.

"I didn't want to wear my dress," I explain, my fork suspended in midair, inches from my mouth.

He lifts a hand and grazes the side of my thigh, playing with the hem of the shirt. "A work of art," he says, moving to pick up his plate. "Very sexy, Anya Banks."

I don't know what to say to that, so I dig into my scrambled eggs, resting my head back as Tanner chews on a piece of bacon. "Taste okay?"

"Tastes great." He shovels a mouthful of eggs onto his fork. "I wasn't expecting breakfast in bed."

"Well, I wasn't expecting anything last night."

He smirks and looks at me from the corner of his eye. "I missed my jog last night because of you."

"I never went home last night because of you."

"Do you regret it?"

I wiggle my toes and tilt my head as I playfully consider his question. My limbs are relaxed and every muscle in my body is tender. "Nope," I smile and take a bite, pulling my legs up to rest my plate on my knees, "not one bit." And it's true. Lana will be thrilled to hear the news, I'm sure.

"What are your plans for the day? I have to get to the office soon."

"The beach. We're docked on this island for two nights, right?"

"Correct. I'll see to it that you have a personal cabana and a fully stocked kitchen. You're welcome to stay both days, if you'd like."

"Oh, I don't need any of that. Just a towel and a lounge chair and I'm good."

Tanner sets his plate down and clears his throat. His voice is still gruff from sleep, and it's incredibly sexy. "Anya, you will take the cabana. I insist."

"Do all of your playthings get the cabana?"

"Playthings?" He cocks a brow, a tired, amused smile spreading over his face.

"I don't want special treatment, thank you very much. I'm here to work and relax. You showering me with...luxuries makes me feel like Julia Roberts in 'Pretty Wo—"

"Stop right there." Tanner sits up straight. "If I shower you with anything, it's because I'm a wealthy man and I can, and I choose to. You are not that. Let's get that straight right now."

"Whatever. That's exactly what I am." I stand and collect my empty plate, reaching for his. "You going to finish that?"

He snatches my wrist and pulls me back into bed. I yelp and my plate drops onto the sheets. He places me on his lap so I'm straddling him. I'm inches from his face. It's downright irritating how good looking he is first thing in the morning. "You're not a plaything. You made that very clear when you told me you prefer sex in committed relationships."

"But I chose this anyway." I shrug. "That makes me just like the brunette in the hallway—"

"Anya, enough. You said you've never done this before. Was that the truth?"

"Yes..."

"Then in that case, you're a woman who respects herself, who is choosing to experiment with something different for once. Nothing more, nothing less. And can we please stop discussing the brunette in the hallway?"

"Who was she?" Once again, the word vomit just keeps on coming. But I want to know. I'm curious.

He stares up at me, looking as curious as I feel. "You seriously want to know?"

"Yes. She was very beautiful."

Tanner shifts beneath me, his eyes scanning the space behind me for a second before bringing them back to my patient gaze. "Just a woman I see from time to time."

"Is she the only one?"

"The only one?"

"The only...repeat?"

"Shit, Anya, I don't hire women to..."

I tap his chest. "You know what I mean."

"Do I?" He raises his chin in challenge, begging me to soothe his wounded ego.

"Tanner," I squeeze his shoulder playfully, "I only mean, she is more than a one-night stand. Right?"

"Right."

"Elaborate." I wiggle on his lap and rest back on my hands, digging my knees into the sheets.

"That woman and I get together when it's convenient. We work together. It's not exclusive. What you and I are doing is new for me, too. I'm simply trying to provide an arrangement that suits you."

"How considerate of you, Mr. Christensen," I joke, smirking coyly. I move to lean forward, but he beats me to it and moves in, wrapping his arms around me.

"There's that word again." He grimaces, as if there's a bad taste in his mouth. "Considerate."

"You said considerate is good."

"Good, yes, but there's much more to keeping a woman satisfied than simply being considerate."

"As you would surely know."

"I kept you very satisfied last night, did I not?"

"You know you did."

"Then aren't you glad I have the knowledge?" I shake my head with a smile, moving to lift myself off of him, but he still won't budge. His arms are ironclad around my back. "You're a smart, sexy woman, Anya Banks. You're going to make some man very happy one day."

I bend to meet his lips, pressing a soft kiss on his mouth. "Thank you." A pleased hum vibrates in his throat.

"Notice I said man," he adds sternly against my lips. "Find one who knows how to please you. Who listens."

"Yes, sir," I tease, giving him a salute.

"I mean it," he teases back, pecking my cheek, "I expect a report."

"Uh-huh. Sure." I roll my eyes and slide off him. He swats my ass and slips out of bed, shuffling toward the closet. I admire the view, scanning his tan backside with a contented sigh.

"I need to shower and get going, but you're welcome to stay as long as you want. Enjoy your day on the island." He retrieves some clean clothes and starts for the bathroom. "I'll see you for dinner tonight." When he reaches the door, he pivots and points. "Use the cabana."

"Fine."

"I'll be speaking to your boss this afternoon."

Shit. I forgot. "Tanner! No!"

He grins mischievously and jogs into the bathroom. I jump out of bed and race across the carpet, but the lock clicks and I'm effectively shut out.

"Tanner! Please, don't."

The water starts to run. "Sorry," he shouts, "can't hear you."

I change tactics. "I need a shower, too. Can I join you?"

There's silence for a moment, and the lock unclicks. He cracks the door with a knowing smile. I play it up, holding his gaze while I toy with my top shirt button, popping one, then the next, working a lazy trail down. His greedy eyes follow and he reaches out, hooking his fingers around my collar. With a little tug, he pulls me into the bathroom and I fall against him. His mouth bears down on mine and my legs lift, curling around his hips. He picks me up and slams the bathroom door closed, and we stumble into the shower. I might not be able to change his mind, but I can sure as hell try.

***

The hot sand burns my toes, but it feels so good, I welcome the pain. My eyes drift shut for a moment as I step onto the beach, and I tilt my head back, willing the sun to sink into my pores. My tote bag hangs from my shoulder, my sunscreen is evenly applied, and the breeze that whips off the ocean caresses my skin. It's an absolutely perfect day, which started off on the right foot with Tanner in the shower. He was late to the office, though he didn't seem to care much since he is, after all, the boss. He wasted more time after the shower urging me to program his number into my cell phone, insisting I have it on hand for dinner that evening.

Alvita, the Trident Voyager's small, privately owned Bahamian Island, is a laidback, tropical paradise, just as picturesque as it promises in the brochure. White, fluffy sand spreads for miles, and the crystal clear, aquamarine water gently laps at the shoreline, as serene as the breeze that sways through the clusters of palm trees along the beach. I spot the row of private cabanas on the far right side and start toward them, looking for the guest check-in counter that Tanner told me to seek out. A sweet older woman with tanned, leathery skin and deep crinkles around her eyes greets me and hands me a key, directing me to the third cabana on the right. I quickly text Lana to see if she's arrived yet or if she's still back on the ship.

A feisty tug pulls at my hair from behind as I begin to text her.

"Hey!" Lana bounces forward and wraps me in a hug.

"I was just getting ready to text you. I have a cabana for us." I smile and hold up the key, dangling it in her face.

"You mean one of those?" She points to the straw huts and her face lights up.

"Yup. Courtesy of Mr. Christensen."

"Holy shit!" She grabs my hand and begins dragging me toward the cabanas, her other hand securing the brim of her big, floppy hat tighter to her head. Her neon yellow bikini is as loud as her red, wavy hair. "The perks just keep getting better and better!"

"He insisted," I laugh, letting her tug me across the sand. She's really hauling ass, as if a million dollars await her under one of the straw roofs. "Slow down, will you?"

"Which one is it?"

"Mmmm," I glance at the key, "number three."

We stop in front of the third cabana and Lana hurries me along, barking at me to unlock the side door.

"Oh my God!" Lana squeals when we step inside, running to the glass sliding door that faces the beach. "This is almost better than bread!" She unlocks the door and opens it wide, letting the sea breeze float in. It sends the sheer, white drapes fluttering around the slider, and I step forward to join Lana on the little porch outside. There's an arrangement of lounge chairs, foliage, and a massive, oversized umbrella that sweeps over the space, providing just the right amount of shade.

"Tanner said something about a fully stocked kitchen." I look to Lana and shrug.

She runs back inside the cabana, straight to the mini kitchen. It's complete with microwave, oven, sink, and fridge. She opens the cabinet above the stove and her eyes widen. "An, this is gourmet food. All of it. Holy crap!"

I crouch and open the tiny refrigerator, showing Lana the drink selection. There's everything from sparkling water and fruit juices to chilled champagne. "He said we could use this place all today and tomorrow, if we want."

"Heck yes, we want! Okay, I need to call Brie and tell her to get her butt over here. I invited her to be beach bums with us. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all. She's sweet, I really like her." I shut the fridge and rise, dropping my tote bag on the counter. "I'll get us some towels." I saunter over to the little bathroom and take some from the wicker shelf, laughing as I overhear Lana's animated conversation with Brie. They're yapping on about barbeque sauce, chocolate cake, and pineapple daiquiris. Lana mentions to bring an overnight bag and then ends the call, hurrying back outside to the porch. I follow her, tossing a towel onto her lap.

"Thanks," she says, sliding on her sunglasses. "Oh, look! These stairs head right down to the beach." She points to the opening on the porch deck, which does in fact lead straight to the sand. "This is perfect, An. I'm surprised the magazine didn't boot the bill for one of these for us. But you know Ted, he can be such a cheapskate."

I chuckle, picturing our boss agonizing over the travel expenses. He really has no need to agonize. He's very well off, and the magazine is the top travel publication on the market, but he's always had a dramatic streak. "He sure can."

"Brie's on her way." Lana cracks open a water bottle and takes a seat on one of the lounge chairs. I join her. "So, let's hear it, love! How was your night with Tanner? Are you seeing him again? I take it you are, if he gave you this!" She gestures to the cabana, flipping her red waves over her shoulder.

"It was different," I say casually, intent on driving her mad. My expression remains indifferent, but I don't know how long it'll last. Lana's too good.

She rips her sunglasses off and sits up, crossing her legs. She scoots to the edge of the lounge chair and leans forward, her shifty eyes narrowing into thin slits. "He was amazing, wasn't he? He rocked your world, Anya Banks." She gives me a push, poking my arm. "I'm not buying that blasé answer for one freaking minute."

"He was okay." I pull my legs up onto the chair and scoot back, pretending to yawn.

"Oh my God, Anya, that hickey is huge! What are you, sixteen?" She reaches over and swipes at my neck and I jump up, scrambling inside for my compact.

"Oh, I'll kill him," I mumble, frantically digging to the bottom of my tote. Lana's keeling over in laughter outside, thoroughly enjoying herself.

I freeze.

"There's no hickey."

"Nope."

"You sneaky bitch."

"Serves you right! Now tell me what happened." She crosses her arms and lifts her chin, and I throw my bag down, walking back outside to meet her.

I groan. "He was amazing."

"I knew it. How rough was he? He's a biter, isn't he?"

I burst out laughing. "A biter? No, Lan."

"Well, come on, give me something, here!"

"He was...gentle."

Her head juts back. "What?"

"Yup. A little bossy, but very considerate. His body is...wow." I sigh, recalling his cut, athletic build and those piercing eyes as they hovered over me.

"Well, I'll be damned. Just goes to show you can never peg 'em! I was sure that man was rough."

"I'm sure he is sometimes, right?" I look at her questioningly.

"Excuse me, how would I know?"

"I don't know, don't you have some weird kinky radar or something? You seem to know it all when it comes to this stuff."

"Pure instinct, my dear." She waggles her index finger at me like a stern teacher. "That instinct just usually happens to be right on target. So, are you still doing dinner tonight? To finish the interview? I can't wait to check out your notes. This review feature is going to be solid, especially now that you're banging the captain."

I reach over and tap the edge of her hat. It bends down and springs back into place. "He's not the captain."

She opens her mouth for a snarky comeback, but she's cut off by my phone's ring tone. I trot inside to answer it, feeling a little butterfly flutter in my stomach when I see Tanner's name. He couldn't stay away for more than an hour.

"Hey, what's up?"

"I have a problem."

My heart leaps—he sounds serious. "What's wrong?"

"I'm trying to get out of here by noon, but I can't find a number I need."

"Okay..."

"It was on a sticky note."

Relief sails through me. "That's all?"

"What do you mean, that's all? You messed with my damn sticky notes and I now I can't find the number!" An amused giggle surfaces, and that only ticks him off more. "Anya, this is serious."

"Sorry." I snort. "Let me think. A number. Okay..." I squeeze my eyes shut and pinch the bridge of my nose. "Ah! It's yellow. Look in the yellow stack."

He curses under his breath and the sound of paper rustling drifts over the line.

"You are aware that keeping important information on sticky notes isn't the brightest idea, right? We have wonderful technology to keep us organized nowadays. You need to get up with the times, Mr. Christensen."

"I don't believe I asked you for an opinion on the matter, Miss Banks. And I sure as hell didn't ask you to organize my desk."

"Someone's grumpy this morning."

"Found it." He sighs audibly. "I'm very grumpy. Not an hour ago I had a beautiful, obedient woman pinned to my shower wall, and now I'm stuck at a desk trying to play catch up."

"I could come keep you company. We could get a jump start on finishing that interview."

"The interview wouldn't happen. I'd have you sprawled out on my desk in two seconds flat. I'm already distracted just thinking about it."

Dazed, I shake my head and try to find words.

"Anya?"

"Yes?"

"Are you enjoying the cabana?"

"It's lovely, thank you."

"It's the least I can do for writers from Four Corners Elite. I have to get going. Relax, have fun, and call me if you need anything."

I'm still floating on cloud nine, swimming in the imagery he just painted for me.

"Anya?"

"Hhmm? Yeah, sorry."

"I'll see you this evening. Wear something with easy access. You'll thank me later." There's a click and he's gone.

I hang up and stare down at the phone, my jaw dropping. "The smug bastard," I mumble.

"Was that Tanner making a booty call already?" Lana strolls inside and over to the kitchen.

"Not exactly."

"Bummer."

There's a knock at the door as I drop the phone onto the table. "Probably Brie," I say, hurrying over to greet her. As soon as I open the door, I'm confronted with an armful of paper bags. I can't even see Brie's head over the pile.

"Sorry, I went a little overboard." She peeks her head around to watch where she's going. I dart forward and scoop two of the bags out of her hands. "Thanks! I about died carrying these things. Don't ask me how I made it all the way up the road."

"Oh, you brought the good stuff!" Lana cheers, rushing up to give us a hand. She's already digging through the bags as she carries them, drooling when she pulls out some fresh donuts. "Where did you find all of this?"

"There's a little store right next the snorkel shop, at the end of the dock as you come onto the island."

"This calls for champagne," Lana declares, opening the donut box.

"It's not even noon," Brie laughs, setting the bags down on the kitchen counter.

"Oh, that won't stop her," I say, searching the cabinet for some flutes. "Trust me, it's better to just join in on the crazy." I help Lana pop open the bubbly and Brie unloads the rest of the junk food, packing the already-tight cabinets until they're overflowing. There's more food there than I can eat in a week, but I don't doubt Lana and Brie will down most of it by tomorrow.

"I swear, you're a bottomless pit." I pinch Lana's side and she bumps my hip. She snatches up her glass and a plate of sweets and then heads out to the porch. Brie and I follow, settling into the lounge chairs. Of course, we chat food, food, and more food, and occasionally fill each other in on life back home: what we do for a living, all of the places we've traveled and those we've yet to travel, and how chocolate gives sex a run for its money. Lana sneaks in some details about Tanner and me, but I don't elaborate much. The truth is I still don't know much about the man, but I'm hoping that will change tonight when I finally get to interview him.

Twenty minutes later, my sides ache from laughter, and I'm so full, I might burst. There's no way I can eat tonight with Tanner, and if Brie and Lana keep up their banter, there's a good chance I'll pass out. I announce I'm heading down to the beach for a swim and leave Lana and Brie to chat, swiping up my towel before strolling down the porch stairs. My steps slow as I inch closer and closer to the shore, but I push on, knowing this is nothing like the Atlantic Coast back home. There are no big waves, no rough currents, and the water is so clear, you can see your feet.

I toss my towel down and slowly wade in, comforted by the contrast. The water is as warm as a soothing bath. I'm safe here. I can swim here. I can and will do this.

"Anya, is that you?" A voice floats toward me and I pivot around, lifting my sunglasses.

"Jonah?"

"Hey, how's it goin'?"

I smile and turn to stroll toward him. He's clad in a pair of blue board shorts, and I discover he has some sexy tattoos on his shoulders. "Just about to take a swim. Sorry we lost touch the other night, Lana's attention span is pretty short."

"Yeah, I gathered that." He laughs good naturedly and pushes his hand through his dark hair, his eyes sparkling. "Carlos is around here somewhere. We're sitting down that way." He points in the other direction and I follow his gaze, scanning the other end of the beach. "Figured I'd take a walk and check out the island. Care to join me?"

Torn, I glance back at the water, but decide to be polite and accept his offer. "Okay, sure."

He turns and leads the way, and we begin a lazy trek along the shoreline, farther and farther from the cabanas. "So, what are your plans for the night?" he asks, adjusting his shades. "I'd love to take you to dinner. I hear Felina's Bistro on Deck 8 Aft is great. I haven't tried it yet, have you?"

"No, I haven't. Actually, I have a dinner meeting there tonight."

"Oh, do you?"

"Yeah, so I might have to take a rain check, but I'd love to go with you before the cruise is over."

"No worries, we can set something up. You'll have to tell me what room you're staying in so I can swing by."

"I'm in 3041. Maybe tomorrow night? I'll have to check with Lana and see if she has anything planned for us."

"Oh, that's right—I forgot you two are reviewing the ship. What magazine do you write for again?" He swings his hands around his back and clasps them together, strolling casually as he gives me his full attention. I instantly slip back into the familiar ease of his presence, recalling how simple it was to chat with him the first night we met. He's easy going and I don't sense a false bone in his body—a good combination in any girl's book.

"Four Corners Elite."

"Ah, okay. The travel magazine. Very cool." He gestures to the water, jerking his chin to the left. "I didn't mean to interrupt your swim. Come on, I'll take a dip with you." He stops and his hand drops and casually finds mine. I glance at the connection, locking my fingers with his. I was hoping to swim alone, but maybe this is better. It might help to have someone by my side in case I start freaking out.

"You coming?" he asks, turning back. I've stopped cold, the water just above my ankles.

"Yeah, sorry," I laugh lightly, kick-starting my feet. I focus on the calm surface and inhale deeply through my nose, then out my mouth. I silently give thanks for my sunglasses, knowing the panic is surely starting to visibly flare.

"Oh, shit. Careful." Jonah stops me and swivels on his hip, bending to lift me up. "Stingray."

"Oh! Where?"

"On your left." He slides one arm beneath my knees and cradles me against his chest, turning so I can get a better look.

"So pretty." I admire its wings rippling above the sandy bottom.

"Pretty?"

"Yeah, don't you think?"

"Nah, they creep me out," he chuckles, shuffling in the other direction. He starts to wade deeper, and my muscles lock up. My body turns rigid in his arms, my fingers digging into his neck. "You okay?" He stills and lifts his shades to study me, our breaths mixing, lips close. The scent of fresh lemon hits me, and he licks his lips.

"Yup, I'm fine."

"You sure?"

I nod.

He goes to drop his shades back down over the bridge of his nose but hesitates, honing in on my lips. "Damn."

"What?"

"I really wanna kiss you right now."

"Oh." I wiggle in his grip and he carefully lifts my sunglasses, sliding them up over my head. Our eyes meet and I'm at a loss for words. There's something so genuine in them, it jars me for a moment, but I quickly write it off, aware that just like half of the men partying it up on this cruise, he's just looking to take me back to his cabin. He mistakes my silence for a green light and moves in, his moist lips barely brushing mine. "Jonah, I better get back," I whisper, watching the disappointment wash his face. He doesn't set me down, though, just quietly nods and slowly turns to begin walking back to the shore. "My friends are waiting for me back at one of the cabanas."

"Are these friends female?"

"Yes," I laugh, grinning sympathetically. "Lana and Brie. You haven't met Brie." A loud shout barrels toward us as we make it closer to the shore, someone calling out from the direction of the cabanas.

"Hey, isn't that your friend Lana?" Jonah squints toward the huts and I follow his gaze, dropping my shades to kill the sun's glare. It's still a little too far off for me to get a good glimpse.

"Um...I think so."

Jonah picks up the pace and begins a jog toward the cabanas. Lana's frantic face comes into view. She's waving wildly to call me toward her, and Brie is standing next to her, looking a bit confused. Jonah carries me the whole way, finally stopping to set me down when we reach the bottom of the porch steps. Lana's hanging over the railing, eyes wide while she silently mouths something to me, but I can't make it out. I rush up the stairs, Jonah on my heels, and halt to a stop when I reach the top.

Tanner's sitting in one of the lounge chairs, but he's not lounging. He looks far from relaxed. He's leaning forward, forearms on his knees, shades covering his beautiful blue eyes. His blonde hair is disheveled—just as I left it this morning—and he's donned in his signature grey suit and silk baby blue tie.

"Hey," I greet him, gaze bouncing between his stoic expression and my girlfriends' uncomfortable ones. "Is everything okay?"

Lana's eyes flit to Jonah and then back to Tanner. She clears her throat. "Mr. Christensen just dropped by to speak to you about the interview."

"The interview? I thought we had a meeting tonight."

Tanner rises and stretches his shoulders. "Yes, Miss Banks. It turns out I have the afternoon free, so I figured I'd stop by to see if you wouldn't mind doing the interview now instead."

Lana taps Brie's shoulder and points behind Tanner to the sliding glass door. "We're just gonna run inside and grab some..."

"Bread!" Brie pipes up and takes her hand, and they hurry for the door.

"Jonah, you're welcome to join us," Lana calls over her shoulder.

"Oh, that's okay," Jonah waves to thank her, and his eyes float between Tanner and me. "I have to get back to my mates. See you soon, Anya? Room 3041, right?"

"Yup, you got it." I turn and smile softly at him. I can feel Tanner's eyes burn holes into me through his shades, and I'm not sure why. If this is about the damn sticky notes again, so help me, God. "I'll talk to you later. Tell Carlos I said hi?"

"Will do." Jonah quickly bows out, turning for the porch steps. He jogs across the white sand and then he's gone, leaving me with a very grumpy Mr. Blue Eyes.

"So...you want to do the interview now?" I ask, stepping under the umbrella. "Why the change in plans?"

"The interview can wait." He takes my hand and leads me back inside the cabana, his stride quick and determined. "I want to steal you away for a few hours. Get your bag."

"Get my bag?" I stumble through the sliding door and he hands it to me, quickly lifting it from the counter. He doesn't let go, just pulls me right along. I'm still in nothing but my wet bikini and sand is rubbing in all the wrong places, but it looks like I won't be changing. We sail past Lana and Brie toward the front door.

"Sorry for the intrusion, ladies," he says gruffly as we pass by. The door swings open and I send a floppy wave to Lana and Brie over my shoulder.

"I'll text you, Lan!"

"Behave, kids!" she shouts after us. The humidity swamps us again the second we step back outside, and Tanner finally stops in front of the hut's little dirt path. A sharp, white Corvette awaits us, windows rolled down. Tanner opens the passenger door and gestures for me to get in. I don't bother asking, because this man's on a mission. I just slide onto the black leather seat, buckle up, and hang on.

SIX

My hair blows wildly as Tanner flies down the road, The Neighbourhood's "Sweater Weather" blaring loudly through the speakers. The road curves and we wind around, little glimpses of the water flashing in between the thickets of palm trees that line the shoulders. We cruise farther and farther from any signs of tourist activity, leaving the cabanas and guest beach in the dust. A few minutes pass and we speed around another corner, peeling onto a long, dirt driveway that leads deep into the tropical brush.

A small turquoise house comes into view, its shutters weathered, the paint peeled along the slats.

"What are we doing here?" I finally ask as Tanner brings the car to a stop.

He reaches over and turns the radio off, then flicks the ignition. The windows are still open, and the purr of the smooth machine we're sitting in dies. "You're here to learn some more Tanner Christensen 101," he says matter-of-factly, yanking me over the console and onto his lap. A surprised yelp sends the wind rushing from my lungs. When I collide with him, he finally tears his shades away and tosses them on the passenger seat.

I grip his shoulders, my eyes wide.

"Let me clarify something for you, Miss Banks," he demands, gathering my disheveled, windswept hair in his hands and holding it at the nape of my neck. "I was under the assumption that when we made our agreement, the exclusivity we discussed went both ways."

I blink. "Well, you assumed right. I wasn't doing anything with—"

"I don't want to hear his name," he snaps, clutching the back of my head, "I don't want to know anything about him. I already got an eyeful of his hands on you, and it told me everything I need to know. He's a boy, not a man, and he won't be able to take care of you." His mouth hits my throat, hot and wet. He murmurs against my skin, voice raw and rough, an unhinged edge to his tone. "Right now, you're going to ride me hard. One, because it's been a hell of a morning and I need it, and two because you need it and you don't know it yet." His fingers make quick work of my bikini top, ripping at the flimsy strings. He flings it aside and then tears my bottoms off, swinging my legs around like a pro. He kisses me, his mouth harsh, tongue demanding. I taste the sea salt from my skin on his lips.

His hands are firm and controlled, roaming everywhere. Sand grinds at my skin with each touch. He's sucking the breath from me and I'm so shocked, I can't even process the deprivation. I can only sink into him, quench his thirst and satisfy his hunger. I push at his suit jacket, frantically peeling it down his shoulders. He groans in approval and cups my breasts, squeezing and trailing his thumbs along the undersides.

"Tanner," I whimper, "I love the way you touch me."

"Bite," he demands huskily, placing the pad of his thumb on my bottom lip. I obey and press my teeth down, moaning as he pushes his hips up to deliver the most delicious pressure. His thumb leaves my mouth and trails across my jaw bone, landing just below my ear. He rubs gently, the moist pad working delicate strokes into the skin. "You like this spot, baby?"

I lean into his touch, and my eyes drift shut in pure pleasure. "Yes."

He keeps rubbing the space just below my ear while he leans up to nip my lips, working me into a blissful haze. The last few minutes are a blur. In a matter of seconds of being on this man's lap, I've almost forgotten my morning with Lana and Brie, and my walk on the beach with Jonah. All my body registers is Tanner's raging need and my desire to give him what he's desperate for.

His head drops back against the headrest and he lifts his hips to work at his fly. My fingers fumble with the top of his dress shirt buttons. I only manage to undo the first three, but it's enough to give him some breathing room and to turn me on to high fucking heaven. The sound of a zipper's pull resonates. My fingers glide over his neck and shoulders, sweeping across the thin sheen of sweat that's building there. He frees himself and shifts me into position, eyes flicking up to lock with mine. "Lean back and take me deep. It'll give you the most pleasure, baby."

A collective moan pours from our lips as he sinks me down onto him, and I obey his command, tilting back until I feel the steering wheel behind me. It's jamming into my back, but I don't care. I'm focused on the mouthwatering male sprawled out before me, a sliver of chest exposed, his short, ruffled blond hair begging to be tugged. His touches aren't nearly as gentle as last night, but seeing this side of Tanner—feeling this side of him—sends my need soaring.

His hands land on my waist and he pumps me up and down. His intense gaze watches my face as he rocks my hips, tilting and bouncing me to ensure he's hitting just the right spot. Even in rough mode, he's putting me first, tuning his body to mine to elicit the finest shots of pleasure. His arms rise and he rests them behind his head, gaze crawling greedily up and down my body. "Tell me where you want my hands, Anya. Or they stay right here."

"Here," I pant, reaching out to bring one of his arms back down. I guide it toward me and a luscious, lazy smile rolls over his lips. I press his hands against my breasts, smashing them against my skin. He responds with fervor, kneading and gripping as I have my way with him, losing myself in his heady gaze. My knees stick to the leather. Sweat never felt so good.

"Harder, Anya. Harder, baby." His eyes burn, his fingers digging into my breasts, nails scraping with the sand. He drops one hand to guide my waist again, adjusting the intensity and rhythm, and I begin to fall apart, my inner walls clenching and releasing around his hardness. My head rolls forward, my forehead pressing into his, pushing him down harder and harder into the leather seat as I take him. A cry bubbles from my lips and I break, my release tearing through me like a vengeful savage. "That's it, that's my girl."

Tanner matches my shouts, tops my curses, smothers my moans. We're all broken breath and tongue and teeth and nails, ripping at each other until there's nothing left but our shattered heaps of flesh. His name is repeatedly on my lips as I come, and nothing seems to please him more. He bites my shoulder as I drift down, smiling in pure, elated satisfaction. We both implode against one another, our bodies collapsing, skin rubbing skin, breath meeting breath.

I know in that moment I have never, ever been more satisfied than I am right then.

"Where," I breathe, "did that come from?"

"I told you," he pants. "It's been a shitty day."

"You've only been at work for a few hours," I laugh softly, resting my forehead in the crook of his neck, working to recover. We're still connected, him throbbing hot inside of me while I pulsate around him. My body isn't ready to let him go. For all I care, he can stay buried there indefinitely.

"A few hours was enough, believe me." I detect a hint of sadness in his voice. It's unsettling, especially coming from a strong, powerful man like Tanner Christensen.

A beat of silence passes.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I feel his eyes on me. I glance up, tilting my head to stare deeply into the sapphires.

He swallows. He doesn't look away. "Do you ever wish you could choose a different path? Make a different choice?"

"Of course. We all do from time to time."

"Feeling trapped is my...it's a weakness."

"You feel trapped?"

He averts his eyes now, staring straight ahead, out the dash window. "I am trapped."

"What? How so?" I sit up and rest my palm on his chest, watching intently.

He exhales and shakes his head, shifting beneath me. "Never mind. It's not important."

"Yes it is, Tanner." I cup his cheek and pull his gaze back to me, imploring him. "Everyone needs to vent. Trust me." I glance down, watch my fingers run over his chest. "A big reason I...have my issue with the ocean is because I suppressed a lot after the accident."

"What accident?" His brows lower, creating a uniform crease across his forehead.

I wrestle with my thoughts for a moment. The lines are blurred now. Do I share the personal with someone who is a part of my professional life? I laugh dryly. I've already been screwing him. It doesn't get more personal than that. I suddenly feel incredibly vulnerable—completely naked and exposed in broad daylight.

"A little girl almost drowned because of me." The words come out in rush, as if by saying them out loud, they'll somehow retaliate. But it's the truth, and I want Tanner to tell me what's bothering him, so I set them free anyway. "I used to babysit. I...I love kids. I'd babysit sometimes on the weekends, just for some extra cash and because I really loved being that person—the person parents trusted to spend time with, nurture, and encourage their children. It was an honor, something I was proud of."

"You don't do it anymore?"

"No. Not after the accident. Things haven't been the same since. I...it did something to me. I shut down sometimes, I panic. It's paralyzing. And then there's my self-esteem." I glance up at him, fidgeting in his lap. He's frozen beneath me, eyes focused. He doesn't even blink. "It might not make sense, might sound stupid, but the fact that I was responsible for what happened, made me feel like a failure somehow. Not just because I did fail—a child I cared about almost died because of my neglect—but because taking care of children was something I loved, something I was naturally good at, for as long as I can remember. Growing up, all I ever wanted was to see the world and take care of kids." I release a soft, wistful laugh and look down, eyeing the groove of Tanner's opened shirt.

"What is it?"

I trace my finger along the buttons. Tears threaten, but I swallow them down. My throat constricts.

"Anya," Tanner persists, brushing his thumb along my jawline. "Tell me."

"Even back in high school, I found a way to merge those passions. I'd race home from school to babysit and I'd always pull out the globe from my dad's den. The kids and I would sit there and just spin the globe, talking about all of the places we wanted to go when we grew up. Their eyes would light up when I'd tell them facts about some of the countries and the different cultures. They were so...intrigued, so full of dreams. Completely in awe at the great big world that was out there, waiting for them to explore it."

"Just like you?" A crooked smile creeps up.

"Yeah, just like me."

Tanner shifts and lifts me off of him, setting me gently on the passenger seat while he adjusts himself and zips up. I slip a hand beneath me to retrieve my bikini but he snatches me back up and cradles me on his lap.

"Why do you get to zip up and I have to stay naked?" I grin up at him.

"Do you have a problem being naked, Miss Banks?" His tone's playful, but as he says the words, his eyes study me carefully.

"Not when I'm on your lap, no."

"Good. From now on, when we see one another, you belong on my lap."

My head falls back with a deep belly laugh. "I can't always be naked and on your lap, you caveman."

He bends and nips at my neck. I feel his smile and it fuels my own. I like happy, playful Tanner Christensen. If it means keeping the sad, grumpy Tanner away, I'll burn my clothes for the remainder of the cruise. Anything to keep him smiling like that.

"We'll see about that," he warns, pulling back. "You still haven't seen the extent of my influence, Miss Banks."

"You don't have to use your powers of manipulation to get me naked, Mr. Christensen."

"That's what I like to hear." He bites my earlobe.

I roll my eyes and slap his chest. The mood is so light between us now, I don't want to back pedal, but I want to know what put him in a funk today in the first place. "Tanner?"

He closes his eyes and inhales, as if he knows it's coming. "Finish telling me about the accident."

"Oh." Disappointment pulls heavily. It seems I don't want to go to my unhappy place, either.

"If you can't talk about it, I understand."

"The sun was setting," I begin, fixing my focus outside the driver's window. "Her name was—is—Zoe. My neighbor's daughter. I watched her all during college. I didn't do the dorm thing. She and her mom brought me a homemade blueberry pie when I first moved in to the apartment." I lick my lips, still able to taste the sweetness of the pastry. "I took Zoe down to the beach for a swim. We spent a few hours there, and when the sun began to set, I told her it was time to go home. She begged and begged to stay just a few minutes longer, and I caved. She was a good kid. Always did her homework, always followed the rules, never gave me any trouble. I just wanted her to have a few more minutes."

Tanner relaxes his shoulders, letting his head fall back as he listens.

"Growing up in Florida, you hear about the rip currents all the time. When you live on the coast, the beach is just a lifestyle. You know how dangerous they can be. You know you're supposed to swim parallel to the shore when you're in trouble, but when you're panicking, sometimes you just...freeze.

"Zoe was playing in waist-deep water, jumping over waves and squealing as they crashed into the shore. I wasn't worried about her at all, just writing in my journal. I saw her dive into a wave, and I didn't think anything of it. She was in shallow water. But when her head came back up, she was far out in the ocean—she'd been swept right out like she was on a water treadmill." My fingers curl around Tanner's shoulder and my breathing picks up, matching the pulsing thump of my heartbeat.

"I was in so much shock, I couldn't think of anything else other than to stand and run toward her. I sprinted into the water, full speed, calling out to anyone who could hear me. There really wasn't anyone around—not that I could see, anyway. All I could focus on was her face, barely visible, disappearing and reappearing above the waves. I couldn't look away, couldn't blink, was too terrified I'd lose track of her tiny head in the enormous, greedy sea, ready to swallow her up. And I knew I could be dragged out, too, I just..."

"Wanted to save her." Tanner's voice cracks. It's raw, like sandpaper on my skin. I find his eyes. His jaw flexes, lips firm and tight.

"Yes."

"Did someone come for you?"

"Not right away. It was only minutes, but those minutes felt like hours. Like an eternity. The water was cold. And dark. The saltwater burned my eyes, and I was shaking so badly that there was a moment there when I thought I wasn't going to reach her. Because I was breaking down, losing grip. But I did. I made it to her. I shouted her name over the roar of the ocean. She was swimming frantically, gasping for breath. She screamed to me as her terrified eyes began to slip underwater. The rest is a blur. I just remember both of us struggling for the beach, struggling for breath. And then shouts from people, arms around us."

"And Zoe? What happened after that?"

"Her mother didn't blame me. Refused to. Said a current could take anyone. That it could happen to anyone. But it didn't happen to anyone." My throat constricts dangerously and I fight to relax it, swallowing hard and working to ease my breath. Tanner's arms close tighter around me. His face is stone, eyes distant. "It happened to Zoe. To her daughter. I almost lost her." I gulp a fresh breath and swipe at the corners of my eyes. "That was the worst part. She just....forgave me."

Silence falls around us.

"That's the best part," Tanner finally says, cerulean gaze still lost somewhere past the dash window. Wherever he is, he's not here, in this car.

"Tell me why you feel trapped," I murmur, anxious to leave the place I've just delved in to.

He still doesn't move, but his lashes draw up, bringing his eyes to mine. I watch the cogs turn, watch his thoughts churn as the silence eats up the space. I jump when a musical chime pierces the quiet. Tanner sighs and wiggles beneath me, digging into his pocket.

"Shit, I'm sorry, Anya." I scoot over so he can reach deeper, watching as he retrieves his phone. He glances at me apologetically but moves to answer the call, and I slide off his lap, back onto the passenger seat. "Tanner Christensen," he snaps, leaning back to scan my nakedness. The heat of his gaze sears me. I give him a few more seconds to get his fill before slipping back into my bikini. He watches the entire time, eyeing every movement, caressing each curve with his intense stare as if he's touching me with his bare hands.

As I make the final adjustment on my bikini triangles, I quietly wish he were.

"I see." He finally tears his eyes from my body. His fingers move deftly over the buttons of his shirt, covering the skin I exposed. A quick shrug of his shoulders sends his suit jacket springing back up, until it settles snugly in place. "I'll take care of it. Yes. I'm on my way." He hangs up and immediately turns the ignition.

"You have to go already?"

He casts a glance to the turquoise house. "Unfortunately, yes. I'll pick you up again in the morning if you're free and we can spend the day here."

"What is this place?" I hand him his sunglasses. He slides them on and buckles his seat belt.

"It's mine. Home away from home."

I watch the turquoise house drift away in the rearview mirror as Tanner begins to drive away. Whatever he was about to tell me drifts away with it, and a pang of irritation pricks at me, wishing the phone hadn't interrupted us. "Is everything okay?"

"Yes," he answers curtly, keeping his gaze trained straight ahead on the long, dirt drive. "Just need to take care of some things back at the office. I'll still see you for dinner, yes?"

"Of course."

"Don't forget my instructions."

"You're kidding me, right?" My head juts back and a defiant smile spreads.

His brow jumps at my challenge and he glances in my direction. His fist hardens around the steering wheel. "Tell me, Miss Banks. Have you been with a dominant man before?"

I feel my eyes widen. "Hhhmmm, I believe so. Just this morning. Oh, and last night. Oh, yes. And about fifteen minutes ago..."

"So fresh." He reaches over and tugs at my chin, a grin threatening to shatter his suddenly stern demeanor. "Have you? Apart from me?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know."

"You'd know."

"You really are very smug, aren't you, Tanner Christensen?"

"Very much so." He dips his head down to peek at me over his shades. "I work hard, play hard, I want it all, and I make no apologies for any of it."

"In that case, no. I have not been with a dominant arse such as you." I fold my arms and sigh, turning to watch the palm trees whiz by. The seat belt digs into my chest as the car screeches to a halt and then jumps, veering to the side of the road. The brakes slam again and Tanner's seatbelt unclicks. "What the hell?"

He reaches over and unclicks mine, then swiftly steps out of the car to stroll to the passenger side. My door opens and he grabs my hand, prompting me to step out with him. Frazzled, I stumble out and step to the side as he slams the door. My body's pushed flush against the car as he locks me against it, his hot breath bearing down on my mouth, groin pressing hard into my abdomen. The blood rushes fast through my veins and heat travels to my toes.

"Up until now, you've been very obedient, Anya. Do you know what that says about you?"

I swallow.

"It says you're the perfect fit for a dominant man. You belong with one. You yield to the control. And it not only brings you pleasure," he leans forward ever so slightly, until his lips rest on the tips of mine, "it gives me an incomparable high." Warmth swarms my breast as his hand comes up to cup me, gripping hard and smoothing down over my torso and outward, over my hipbone. "So, when I say you'll thank me for wearing something with easy access—when you follow my instructions—that means we're both in for a thorough, mind-numbingly good fuck, do you understand?"

My head jerks up slightly, until my lips are resting fully on his. I need to taste him. I need to taste his words. They've woken my body up and the very last thing I want to do right now is get back in that car and drive away. It's true, although I'd never admit it to him. I've never before been with a man as bossy as he is, and it turns out I love it. He exhales and his entire body relaxes against me, pressing me further back against the car. My arms slide up and under his, until our embrace is locked and my hands are resting on his shoulder blades. "Don't go yet," I whisper.

"You want to have your way with me again?"

I nod, staring up at him.

"So many things I'd like to do to you," he breathes hard, dipping his fingers into my swimsuit bottom. "Ten days is hardly enough." He slips three fingers inside of me and groans, using his other hand to slowly push at my hip. He shifts me sideways and removes his fingers to get a good grip on my waist. He pivots me all the way around, pressing my front against the car. "You're going to make me late twice in one day, Anya."

I prod him on, pushing my ass into his groin.

"You want it right here, baby?"

"You don't seem to have a problem with public places."

"Fresh." He squeezes my ass and nudges my neck. "I don't. But I can't spoil you thoroughly here. Not now."

"Tanner, please." I attempt to turn, glancing up at him over my shoulder, and his jaw hardens, his piercing baby blues studying me, feeling me out. They're struggling, trying to come up with a way to give me a definite no, but as distinct as Tanner Christensen is, he's still only a man. "Please," I beg him again, giving him another push.

"Damn it, Anya." His eyes close and he rips harshly at his belt buckle. "You're beautiful." My blood sings as he gives in. The slide of the leather is heavenly, the fresh breeze decadent as it teases my skin. I rest my cheek on the hot car and my eyes roll up, watching a flock of birds fly overhead, zipping through the tree branches. It's so quiet here, so deserted, the anticipation of hearing Tanner behind me here, on the side of the road, sends a flash of heat surging between my thighs. It's too much, and it's most definitely something I've never, ever done before. The thrill races down my spine, sending goose bumps up my neck.

Tanner wiggles my bikini bottoms down my hips and I hear his zipper, but it's overpowered by the same musical chime from before, his cell phone blaring loudly from his pant pocket. "Shit." He begins fishing for it, releasing an inventive string of curses under his breath.

My dreamy haze is punctured, my euphoria dispelled by the obnoxious ringing. "It's okay." I slide my bottoms back up my hips and turn around to face him, releasing a sigh. It's far from okay. I'm desperate for him to be inside of me, but he's a business man and the world doesn't wait. He answers the phone, keeping one arm locked against the car, over my shoulder, blocking me from making a move.

"What?" he barks, hurrying to zip himself up. His eyes bounce to mine and he groans in frustration, pushing away from the car. He's running his hand through his hair and pacing, and it's making me want to pace myself. He didn't seem to mind being late this morning, but he's feeling the pressure now, and I don't like being a part of it.

I move for the passenger door and slide into the car. I wait patiently for him to wrap up the call, but it drags longer than I expect. He's wandered a few more yards down the road, until I can no longer hear him. My gaze finds his silhouette in the rearview and I begin to wonder again, chewing over what could've happened this morning to make him feel so trapped. The longer I sit here, watching him in the mirror, the more eager I am to interview this enigmatic man and get inside his head.

I look away the moment he turns to walk back to the car. He's quiet as he slips into the driver's seat, his expression distant and pensive. His seatbelt clicks, the engine revs, and we're off again. He shoots me another look over the edge of his sunglasses. "When you get back to the cabana, I want you to go into the bedroom and touch yourself. I didn't have time to take care of you. Call me the second you lie down so I can hear you come."

For possibly the millionth time since my first sexual encounter with him, my jaw drops. He can't be serious. A disbelieving laugh sputters out. "Tanner, my friends are back at that cabana."

"They're grown women. They'll understand."

"What?" I laugh harder. "You honestly expect me to just stroll in there and excuse myself to the bedroom so I can have phone sex with my boyfr—with the man I'm currently screwing?"

"Don't you think you're over exaggerating just a bit?" He smiles, completely pleased with himself.

My face turns sour. I reach over and punch his shoulder. "A little Anya Banks 101 for you, Mr. Christensen. I can be a drama queen when I'm pushed to my limits."

"Don't tell me for one second you aren't tightly wound after having my hands on you back there. Don't even attempt to pretend you don't need or want the release. I want you to have it, you know you need it, and I insist on hearing it. Either that, or I can take you into the bedroom and finish what I started myself." He shifts in his seat, adjusting his groin. "In fact, I prefer that option."

"You're late. Isn't that why you're driving me back to the cabana like a bat out of hell right now?"

"I am my own boss, Miss Banks."

"Then turn this car around and take us back to your house, and you can finish what you started there."

His smile grows on one side, all crooked and sexy. "Oh, it'd most certainly be my pleasure, baby. Sadly, I truly have no time to take you back to the house and spoil you. It's a quick fuck in the cabana, you on the phone with me, or nothing at all. The choice is yours."

"Well, thank you, Mr. King of Everything, for being so generous."

He reaches out to give my bare knee a squeeze. "What'll it be, Miss Banks?"

"I refuse to answer that." I puff my lip out and look away.

"Do you want to know what your boss said when I spoke to him this morning?"

I whip my head to the side, bouncing it off the leather headrest. "What? Tanner!"

"Ted's a good guy. A little pretentious, but I like him."

"Please tell me you didn't."

"Oh, I did."

I turn my body in the seat. "And?"

"And I'll tell you as soon as you make your choice."

"You cannot be serious."

"The power of manipulation, baby," he says matter-of-factly, his grin wide and contented. "And influence."

"Fine. The cabana. Now, please tell me what you said to Ted."

We wind around a familiar curve in the road, and civilization starts to come into view. The tops of the cabanas are peeking up in the distance. "I simply told him I'm impressed with how knowledgeable you are about my ship, and that I'd love for you to write the review."

"I don't know anything about your ship!"

"You said you researched a bit."

"Yeah, like where it docks, how it ranks in comparison to other cruise liners...basic stuff. Not enough to steal Lana's feature right from underneath her, Tanner. She's my best friend! And she's assistant editor!"

"Exactly. Which is why she'll be thrilled for you."

"She's been looking forward to writing this review. Please, call Ted back and tell him you've changed your mind."

"I added that you'll be interviewing me tonight. That sealed the deal. The feature's yours."

"I don't want the feature! Lana does."

"You do, you just don't know it yet."

My hands fly up in exasperation. "Tanner Christensen, you might know how to read my body, but you do not know me, and I'm telling you, it's important to me that Lana does the review."

His smile begins to fade and he turns pensive again. We roll up to the cabanas and come to a stop, and I wait, expecting who knows what. This man not only intrigues me, he also flat-out baffles the hell out of me. "If it really means that much to you, I'll speak to Ted again."

"It does. It does mean that much to me."

"After I have my way with you in the cabana." He doesn't give me a second to respond, just quickly hops out of the car and jogs around to open my door. A sigh of relief shuttles through me and I step out, letting him lead me inside. We find the cabana empty, no Lana or Brie in sight. "All alone," he murmurs, taking hold of my wrist to guide me toward the tiny bedroom. I peek out the sliding door as he whisks me aside, searching for any signs of them. Must be out on the beach.

As quickly as Tanner shuts and locks the door, he pulls me to the edge of the bed and whips my bikini bottom off, his hand sliding up my spine and tangling in my hair. He gets a good grip and roughly pulls at his belt. He turns my back to his front. "Bend over, Anya." I bravely decide to turn around and face him. My eyes find his in the dim light. The blinds are drawn and all I can make out is the striking blue of his irises and the wild mess of blond atop his head. He watches intently for a second.

"Tanner?"

"What is it, baby?"

"You don't have time to spoil me."

"I don't." His gaze flicks down my body, then back up. He licks his lips.

"That's okay, but can...can you give it to me slowly?"

"You want gentle right now?"

"Yes," I answer quietly, holding his gaze. I know we don't have much time, but I don't want rough right now. I want to feel every push, every pull, want to watch him worship my body the way he did the first time he took me in his bed. I've never had a man touch me like that, and the discovery is dangerously addictive.

His shoulders loosen and he steps forward, bringing his mouth down on mine. He makes a delicious sound in his throat as he meets my lips. "Mmmm I've already spoiled you, it seems."

I grin. "You have."

"Well, let's see what we can do for you, Miss Banks." He bends his knees and lifts me, carefully depositing me on the bed. He briskly lets his suit jacket drop to the floor and undoes his pants, reaching for his cock. He begins stroking himself, hard and precise, watching me as he hovers over the side of the bed. Studying me from head to toe, he crawls on top of me and kisses my navel, reaching up to slowly tug at my bikini top. His fingers pull gently, and he watches the strings unravel, eyes flaring when the triangles slide away from my skin.

I grasp at his shoulders, waiting to feel him push his way inside, but it seems he has other plans. He resumes stroking himself and his head drifts down, baby blues glued to my bare breasts. They dance upward, locking with mine, and then he lowers his mouth to the junction of my thighs. His tongue touches down on my sensitive skin and my back bows, my entire body on fire. He licks gently, then sucks, then licks again, setting a deliberate pattern. His hands slide down the tops of my thighs as he settles between them, and the pressure of his tongue increases, the pattern picking up speed.

My fingers find my hair, twisting and playing with the ends while my eyes drift shut. The soft graze of his teeth against my clit sends my hands down to his shoulders, the pads of my fingers pressing urgently into his skin. With that one small, subtle sensation, he's brought me higher, closer, and my hips instinctually rise to meet the pressure. Distant laughter sounds from somewhere in the cabana, followed by the closing of a door, and my eyelids float open.

"You're going to have to keep quiet, Anya," Tanner mouths against me, the heat of his breath sparking luscious shots of pleasure. His tongue touches down again and he immediately picks up the pace while he holds my thighs down with his strong hands. I push his head harder against me and let out a muffled groan, shattering the quiet of the room as my head rolls to the side, pressing down into the mattress. My hips begin to buck and his hands clamp down on my thighs, grip rigid and unyielding to the tremble of my legs. Each caress of his tongue is determined but careful, rolling against my skin like soft, scorching, melted caramel and sweeping like fine silk.

The voices grow louder just outside the bedroom door, but I can't think, can't register anything other than the decadence Tanner's bathing me in with his skilled tongue. Two more strokes and I break, the force so strong it has the power to snap my spine in two. Tanner's hand reaches up and cups tightly over my mouth, but his tongue doesn't let up just yet. He waits, carefully easing off the pressure until my hips begin to slow, until my body floats back down to the mattress and returns to planet Earth.

My breath begins to calm against his palm, my nostrils still flaring hard from the exertion. He lifts his head and promptly climbs over me, straddling my torso. He positions my arms at the sides of my head, pinning my wrists next to my ears. "Don't move," he orders gruffly, releasing my wrists. He gropes my breasts and reaches down to stroke himself again, but this time he's in a hurry. His gaze is blazing, slicing into me as he stares down, pumping his hand faster and faster, positioning his cock over my chest. The muscles in his neck flex, his jaw grinding, his free hand continuously rubbing at my curves. He calls me a work of art, but the sight above me right now is a fucking masterpiece. I can't tear my eyes away.

Another panty melting groan careens from his lips and his throat constricts, his mouth falling slack. I want to sit up, want to taste him, but he's so incredibly yummy right where he is, I don't even attempt to move, just wait and watch. My mind spins from the show, marveling at how he's gone from gentle lover to fierce savage with the flip of a switch—giving me exactly what I want and exactly what he needs in just a few minutes time. I bite down on my bottom lip and my eyes land on his, begging him to use me, spurring him on. I want nothing more in this moment than to be his canvas, the visual that brings him where he wants to be.

His head falls forward and he bites back a moan, pressing his lips tightly together as he rocks his hips. The moisture between my thighs a moment ago is nothing now that he's on top of me, beating his cock between his fist. I'm soaking, more desperate than ever to feel him deep, filling me completely. Wet, hot warmth spreads over my chest, and Tanner's waist jerks, his hips rocking fast. All of his control cracks. He convulses above me, dropping to rest on his other palm. His eyes are fixed on my breasts, waiting until he empties himself completely on me before he looks up, meeting my hazy gaze.

He bends down to whisper in my ear. "Fucking beautiful." We both shift as the bedroom doorknob jiggles. The rattle ceases and hushed laughter sounds from the other side of the door. Tanner turns back to me, staring down with laughter in his eyes.

"Looks like you'll be doing the walk of shame, Mr. Christensen," I chuckle.

"My cock is satisfied, I can still taste your pussy, and I've marked you." He places his palm on my chest and smears the sticky wetness around with a pleased smirk. "No shame in that, baby."

I blanch. Why, oh why, has no man ever talked to me this way? I feel as if I've been eating fast food for the past nine years when I could've been eating freshly prepared gourmet. Deprivation should be a sin. "Lana is merciless. I hope it was worth it."

"Oh, it was most certainly worth it." He plants a kiss on my lips and hops up to button his pants and lift his suit jacket from the floor. "See you this evening, Miss Banks?"

"It's a date." I lean up to sit on my elbows. "I'm still getting my interview, right?"

"Well, you've spread your legs for me..." He looks up to the ceiling thoughtfully, fastening his top button. I launch a pillow at him. It smacks him in the stomach and a quirk of his lips gives away his poorly restrained sarcasm.

I smile. "Go on, get out. Your services are no longer needed."

"We'll see about that." He slings his suit jacket over his shoulder, turning coolly on his heel for the door. I hear him greet Lana and Brie cordially, his tone instantly shifting back into business mode. They greet him back, and much to my surprise, Lana doesn't deliver any sharp retort to the man. I scramble off the bed and pluck my bikini from the floor, then dart into the bathroom to wash up. I have no idea what I'll learn tonight about Tanner Christensen, the successful cruise ship owner, but I do know an important fact already, one that makes my head swim and my toes curl.

He knows how to satisfy me in ways no man ever has.

SEVEN

My light blue cocktail dress hits just above my knees, and I've finished off the look with a pair of cream peep-toe pumps. My hair is tossed up into a loose, sexy up-do, and my make-up is light and natural. Since boarding the ship this evening, I've managed to make a pit stop at our cabin to change and make a list of interview questions for Tanner. I'm determined to have my questions answered before he sweeps me off to his place. I know the minute we make it through his door, I'll be caught in his seductive web, so it's imperative I pry the information from him before the champagne begins to flow.

I left Lana and Brie to their food fest back at the cabana, and I told them not to wait up. After Tanner left this morning, they both pestered me for details, but I didn't divulge much. It was much too fun torturing them. If all goes as planned, I'll wake deliciously sore and relaxed in Tanner's bed in the morning, and then head back to the island for a lazy day in the sun at his beach house.

The hostess greets me with menus in hand as I enter the posh restaurant.

"I'm meeting someone," I say with a polite smile. "Tanner Christensen?"

Her eyes widen and she grins brightly. "Oh! Of course. Miss Banks, I presume?"

"Yes."

"Right this way, please." She gestures for me to follow and takes the lead, directing me around a corner and along a bar, stopping when she reaches a corner booth. It's very private, tucked away and shrouded in a cusp of dark green foliage, its seats ink-black leather. Tanner sees me and stands, adjusting his baby blue tie. His eyes rake down my body and a pleased smile curls his mouth on one side.

"That color is stunning on you," he says, extending a hand to help me scoot into the booth.

"We match."

"That we do." He raises a finger to gesture to the nearby waitress and she comes scuttling over, looking as flustered as I felt the moment Tanner first welcomed me into his bedroom.

"It's a pleasure to serve you tonight, Mr. Christensen. What can I bring you?"

"Miss Banks will take your finest red, please, and I'll have the same." He nods to me, and the waitress quickly acknowledges me, nodding her head.

"Yes, sir. Coming right up, Miss Banks."

"Thank you," I say, slipping my napkin onto my lap. I cross my legs and my stomach does somersaults. I've obeyed his instructions—no panties, easy access. But I'm just as giddy about the interview, that I'm going to get to pick Tanner Christensen's brain. I reach for my notepad from my clutch and click my pen. "Shall we start?" Tanner leans back, his arms falling casually onto his lap. He watches me, face earnest, eyes churning with something I can't quite make out. "Or would you rather eat first?"

"Are you bare? Under that dress."

"Yes." I gulp and set the notepad down. I click my pen again.

His sapphire irises simmer, darkening as they assess me. "Good. You kept your word, I'll keep mine."

"Then I'd like to begin."

"Shoot, Miss Banks. I'm all yours." He reaches for his glass of water and takes a sip, settling back against the leather seat. His strong shoulders are distracting, contoured to his suit jacket, which fits him impeccably.

"Why were you once afraid of the ocean?"

He gingerly sets his water down and swallows. A stretch of silence spreads between us. "It reminded me of all of the things I didn't want to be."

I begin scribbling on my notepad, absorbing his response. "What didn't you want to be? Elaborate."

"Some things are better left to sleep, Miss Banks."

"Tanner," I roll my head slightly and look up, "you promised."

"I promised you an interview, and I'm granting you one. I never specified what I would and would not discuss."

"You were very specific. You said you'd tell me the reason over dinner."

He licks his lips and wipes a hand over his jaw, where a sheen of stubble is beginning to grow. It's sexy yet starkly unnatural for a man who always appears so clean cut. "Let me ask you something, Miss Banks. Were you ever afraid of something as a child—afraid of the dark, for example—and then found that the dark follows you? That fear, that thing, whatever it was you were afraid of, somehow morphed into something else the longer it had power over you. As time went on, it was no longer just the dark you were afraid of. It was no longer that simple. Instead it spread, until eventually everything and anything that even subtly reminded you of that fear also became a threat. New fears were bred from a single one, and the problem suddenly became much worse because of it. Can you relate to that in any way?"

I study him for a moment, the way his fingers tap and trace the bottom of his water glass, the way his arm rests on the table, so poised, so controlled. "Sure, I guess."

"Then you can understand why I choose not to revisit the subject. Why I choose not to elaborate. I refuse to talk about it anymore because talking about it gives it power."

"I disagree."

"How so?"

"Holding it in is what gives it power."

"It seems we'll just have to agree to disagree."

I wiggle my dress down my thighs and shift, blowing out a breath. "If by your own admission you've conquered that fear, though—owned it, as you said before—then what's the harm in discussing it further?"

"Owning it means acknowledging I have control over what I do with it. And I choose to put it away. It's been dealt with. It's right where it belongs." His jaw hardens and hackles raise, and tension snaps like a rubber band between us, slapping me in the face.

"I see." My voice is quiet.

"Anya," he grips his water glass, jaw still hard, "don't you have anything in your life that you've had to put away?" My chin lifts and our eyes lock, and the way he holds me there tells me he's talking about the accident.

"I'm working on it."

"It takes time."

"Yes."

His baby blues lose their sharpness and his voice thaws, the cold edge gone. "Trust me when I tell you that the moment you shut that door, you won't ever want to reopen it."

The waitress returns with our wine and a basket of bread, giving us a moment of relief. We order our entrees and as soon as she disappears, I decide to move on to my next question. "What made you want to get involved in this line of work? How did you become Tanner Christensen?"

"The Trident Voyager was my father's ship. When he passed away, I took over. I love to travel. Always have. It was an easy decision." He averts his gaze and breaks a piece of bread apart.

"Out of the many places the ship has docked, which port has been your favorite? Where has been your favorite place to travel?"

"The Mediterranean," he answers immediately. "Greece."

My heart swells. "I haven't been."

"But you want to go." He eyes me closely.

"More like I'm dying to go." I take a piece of bread for myself. "It's so expensive. A girl can dream, though, right?"

"You work for a travel magazine. I'm sure you can make it happen."

"Ha," I spread some butter on the bread, "you don't know Ted. He runs a tight budget as it is. It's a miracle Lana was able to talk him into allowing me to come along on this cruise. I can't afford it on my own. Not for a while, anyway."

"Where have you traveled, Miss Banks?"

"I backpacked through parts of Europe. With Lana, during college. Other than that, nowhere, really."

"That's much more than many people see in a lifetime. Good for you."

"It was the happiest time of my life." A veil of sadness slips over me and I feel my smile fade as I take a bite.

"Why do you say that as if you've lost something?"

"I haven't." I shrug. "I suppose I just miss feeling free."

"You don't feel free now?"

I want to say not since the accident, but that wouldn't be entirely true. I've felt plenty free since the accident, but not in the same way I did during my college years. Not like when I was traveling through Europe. My days now consist of sitting in an office and daydreaming about all of the places I long to be, while others actually get to be there. "Not in the same way I did in my early twenties. But that's normal. No big deal."

"Do you enjoy your job?" He sips his wine.

"Oh, I enjoy it."

"But you don't love it."

"We can't all love what we do."

"I strongly disagree."

I laugh and take another bite of bread. "Easy for you to say. You inherited this. It suits you."

Tanner sets his butter knife down and his eyes turn icy, like glaciers. "You think because I'm a wealthy man, everything is perfect for me?"

"That's not what I meant. But while we're on the subject, yes, it seems you live quite the charmed life. Traveling the world, sleeping with beautiful women, more money than you know what to do with..." I smile knowingly and reach for my wine. "Isn't that every young bachelor's dream?"

"It has its perks," he responds sternly, "but make no mistake, Miss Banks. It comes with a price."

My smile falls, and I feel the tension bubble between us. I can't understand what has him so touchy. It feels as if I'm walking on eggshells. "Tanner," I reply softly, "I'm only teasing."

He changes the subject, adjusting his tie. "If you could do something different, what would you do? I would think that working for a travel publication is a dream job for someone who loves to travel."

I watch him carefully. "Lana wants this," I explain, rolling my shoulder. "To write about the places she visits. It's what she's passionate about. I don't want to write about my experience with the places."

"You don't?"

"No. I want to write about the people. The businesses, the culture, the people behind it all. The essence of the place, not the place. I don't want to describe the architecture and comment on the quality of the food service, I want to write about the chef, want to know how long it took him to make the meal with his bare hands. Where the recipe came from and how it was passed down. Who made the building he's serving meals in. Whether the establishment is family owned. I want to shake the hands of the people that create the experience. I want the heartbeat of the place, the grit. The blood, sweat, and tears." I manage to take a breath, silently thanking the heavens when the waitress arrives. I've just gone on a tangent, and Tanner is looking at me as if he's just laid eyes on me for the first time.

As if I'm unrecognizable.

"Sorry," I mumble as she sets my plate down, "I tend to get carried away when it comes to this stuff."

Tanner thanks the waitress but keeps his eyes on me. "Never apologize for being passionate about something, Anya. And don't ever settle. Not with men, not with your dreams, not with anything. Life is yours for the taking, and don't let anyone tell you any different."

The waitress slides us some fresh bread and tops off our wine, her gaze bouncing curiously between us. "Will that be all, Mr. Christensen?"

"Yes. Thank you. Would you like anything else, Miss Banks?"

"No, thank you. This is perfect."

The waitress gives us a curt nod and hurries off, leaving us with our succulent dishes. We lift our forks to enjoy them, inhaling the delicious aromas.

"How did you manage that?" I ask Tanner, slicing my chicken.

"Manage what?"

"To turn the conversation around? You're interviewing me, now."

"I'd like to do much more than interview you."

I curl my lips into a smile around my fork. "Haven't you had your fill of me yet?"

"If any man ever has his fill with a woman like you, he's a fool and needs to be kicked hard in the ass."

"What did I say about flattering me? There's no need for that."

"I'm simply being honest, Miss. Banks. You're a work of art. How is your meal?"

"Heavenly. Yours?"

"Good, but not as good as my noon-time snack." He chews quickly. "As soon as you're done, we're getting out of here. I've had enough business for one evening."

"What?" I frantically glance at my notepad, my fork suspended in mid air. "I still have so many questions for you."

"You have me all week."

I lower my voice and look around. "But you said we'd be keeping business and pleasure separate."

"There will be plenty of time for business meetings. We're only docked in Alvita for one more night, and I want you back at my beach house, naked and wet." He sets his fork down and finishes his wine, and I squirm in the booth, crossing my other leg. "Judging by what I see from over here, we're already half way there." He reveals a smug smile and sits back, relaxing his arms along the top of the seat.

"So self-satisfied," I mumble, picking my jaw up from the table.

"So fresh." He waves his hand to summon the waitress and instructs her to bring the dessert menu. Without asking, he orders two servings of tiramisu to go and waits patiently for me to finish my meal. I'm stuffed and can't even think about dessert right now, but I don't doubt it's just as tasty as dinner was.

My mind tumbles with new angles for the magazine feature as we wait for the waitress to return with our bag of sweets. If Tanner won't tell me about his fear of the ocean, then maybe he'll tell me more about his father. More about the history of the ship and his father's legacy. I know Ted wants a strict review piece, but I desperately want the chance to infuse it with something different, want to shake it up a bit. Lana might have the power to approve anything I want to contribute, but it's always Ted who gets final call. There's no guarantee, but it's worth a shot.

"Do you need anything from your cabin before we head back to the island?" Tanner asks, standing to offer me his hand.

"I have a bag back at the cabana, but I could use a few more things for tomorrow."

"Good. I need to run by my office for a moment. It won't take me long. I'll meet you at your room." He takes my hand and I slide out of the booth, leaning up on my tiptoes to kiss him on the cheek.

He freezes.

I look around, following his gaze. It's cool, calm, and collected, but it's clear he's assessing our audience. "Thank you for dinner, Mr. Christensen," I say cordially. "It was lovely."

"The pleasure's all mine, Miss Banks. I'm happy you were pleased with the service."

I wipe the hint of humor from my face and turn all business with a firm handshake before heading for the exit. We go our separate ways and I hurry back to the cabin, slipping out my cell phone to give Lana and Brie a quick ring on my way. As I expected, they're having a grand old time in the luxury cabana. Between bread, booze, and boys, they're living it up and it makes me smile. I tell Lana I'll be joining them some time tomorrow, and she insists I take my time and enjoy myself. I assure her I will and hang up just as I reach the cabin door.

"Wow, you look amazing," a voice hits me from the left.

"Oh, hey, Jonah. Thanks." I turn and wave lightly, taking in his easy stride and long, lean build. He really is handsome. But Tanner and I have an agreement, and I intend to keep up my end of the bargain.

"I'm glad I caught you. I figured I'd come by and see about that dinner date of ours." He brushes a strand of rebellious brown hair from his forehead and stations himself next to me. "You still game for meeting up?"

I stand there awkwardly for a moment, deciding to make myself busy by digging in my purse for the room key. I did promise the guy a date. It's only one meal. "Sure. How about tomorrow night? Are you free then?"

"Yeah, that works. Where do you want to go? We leave Alvita around four in the afternoon, so..."

"How about the Bordeaux Room? I'll bring Lana and Brie."

"That works. I'll bring Carlos and Micah, if that's cool with you."

"Of course. Sounds fun. I'll let Lana know."

"Does nine work for you?"

"Yup. Perfect."

"Here, let me give you my number." He gestures to my cell phone, which is still clutched in my fist. I hand it over and he begins entering his info, stepping closer as his fingers glide over the screen. That lemon scent of his wafts toward me. He finishes and hands the phone back, whistling under his breath as he steps backward, feasting his eyes on my bare legs. "Damn, Anya. You really are insanely sexy. Which lucky bastard had the pleasure of taking you out tonight?"

"That'd be me," Tanner says, coming up from behind. I feel his shadow, sense his presence as he moves in. His hand lands on the small of my back and his eyes find Jonah's. "Tanner Christensen, owner of the Trident Voyager." He grins tightly and extends a hand. Jonah's brows lift and he accepts the handshake, eyeing me curiously.

"Wow, okay. Hey, man. Nice ship you have here."

"Thank you. I hope you're enjoying your time onboard."

"Definitely." He nods and pushes a breath through his teeth, patting his pockets. "Well, carry on, you two. Good meeting you, Tanner. See you tomorrow, Anya."

"I didn't catch your name," Tanner says, tilting his head as Jonah moves to walk past.

"Oh. It's Jonah." His brown eyes jump to mine. Oh, just shoot me now.

"Good meeting you, Jonah. Welcome aboard."

"Yeah, thanks, man." He hurries down the hall and I release a breath, turning to unlock the cabin door.

"I thought you didn't want to know his name."

"I didn't."

"You just wanted to see him squirm?"

"I'm a man of simple pleasures, Miss Banks."

"Don't be such an arse, Mr. Christensen." The door clicks and I step inside. Tanner's right on my heels.

"You know what's more amusing than that little meet and greet?"

"What's that?" I toss my bag down and start for my suitcase.

"An American woman who prefers using British terms for insults rather than the inventive foul language of her own country."

"Oh, who's fresh now?" I pivot on my hip and glare at him playfully. Before I can unzip my suitcase, he's on me. Front to back, his erection pressing against my ass. He spins me around and hauls me up, carrying me over to the wall, thrusting me against it. All of the wind expels from my lungs.

"You're seeing him tomorrow?"

"Yes."

"We have an agreement."

"We do. I'm not screwing him. It's just a meal."

"That's not what he thinks."

"I can't help what he thinks."

"You're leading him on."

"Maybe."

Tanner's eyes flash. "But you won't follow through. Not until our arrangement is over."

"I'm a woman of my word, Mr. Christensen."

He quiets, eyes dropping to my chest, arms still locking me tight against the wall. "Okay, then." His thick lashes sweep up, bringing his gaze back to mine. "Call me an arse again and we won't make it back to the beach house. I'll fuck you where you stand until you can't anymore." He pushes my dress hem up, exposing my bare thighs. His hand slides between them, his fingers delving inside of me, firmly but gently. He smiles when he discovers I'm already wet for him. "It seems you'd prefer that, Miss Banks."

"Arse," I whisper, tilting my hips to send his fingers deeper. My chin tilts up, too, solidifying the challenge.

Tanner's mouth hits my neck, his breath fanning my throat as he begins to kiss and suck. "Fresh." The cabin grows smaller, the world around us blots out, and for the next thirty minutes, we both keep our word. We're the only ones in existence, and nothing and no one can shake the cloud I've ascended upon.

***

An annoying buzz sounds from somewhere on the left. I reach out and swat at it, my eyes still closed, my head buried underneath a heap of white. My fingers locate my phone and my hand recoils back under the sheet. "Hello?" I answer groggily.

"My God, that man must be good," Lana laughs. "You sound like hell."

"Don't feel like it."

"He's worn you out already. How will you make it the rest of the week?"

"Shut it, Lan."

"I'm just sayin'! No way can you keep up with that man's appetite if things stay at this rate." I can see her face as clear as day. I know right now, she's grinning into the phone, playing with her red bangs, her nose scrunching up in mischief.

"I'm keeping up just fine, thank you very much." I stretch and yawn. The yawn turns to a painful shriek as my limbs extend. Okay, maybe I am a tad sore. "Ouch."

Lana snickers.

"I said shut it."

"Are you still ditching us to spend the day with him?"

"Just spending a few hours here. I'll come over to the cabana after lunch."

"Oh, fine," she sighs dreamily, "go enjoy the bliss. If you need me, just give me a shout. I bet you're loving being on dry land for a few days."

I pull the sheet from my head and move to sit up. My eyes squint as they adjust to the room's light. "You have no idea."

"Well, I've been keeping an eye on the weather. It looks like we should have smooth sailing for the remainder of the cruise."

My mind slowly swirls, awakening bit by bit as her words register. My head drops back onto the soft pillow and relief barrels through me. "Ohhhh, best news ever. Hey." I quickly sit up again, remembering what I needed to tell her. "Have you heard from Ted?"

"God, no. My service is shit out here when I try to call the States. And the bill would be astronomical. I did shoot him an email this morning, though. Just let him know all is well and that I'll have the review for him by next Friday. I've already started working on it."

I force myself to swallow, my mouth dry. "Yeah, about that..."

"What's wrong?"

"Tanner Christensen, that's what's wrong."

"What the huh?"

"He's very stubborn, Lan. And very...bossy."

"Oh! Bossy is good. Me like. What's that have to do with Ted?"

"In bed, maybe. In the real world, not so much. He wants me to write the review instead. He actually had the audacity to call Ted himself."

"Shut the mother effin front door."

"I kid you not. I'm so sorry, Lan. I don't know why he's insisting I write it, but he's pretty determined, and apparently Ted's already agreed. I begged Tanner to call him back and fix this. The feature is yours. I won't let him screw it up for you."

"What an arrogant SOB! Oh, do I have some words for that man."

"You and me both."

"But on the other hand..." her voice pitches.

"On the other hand, what?" I pull my knees up to my chest and glance around the bedroom. Just like back in the office on the ship, it strikes me that Tanner has no pictures or anything personal around the beach house.

"Maybe you should write it."

"Wait, what? No way."

"Why not?"

"Because you've been looking forward to writing it, that's why. I wasn't even supposed to be on this cruise. This is your thing, Lan. I'm just here to help, remember?"

"You're here for many reasons, Anya Banks, and helping me is only one of them."

"You know what I mean."

"I'm going to talk to Ted myself," she says, determined.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on, Lan."

"Nope. That arrogant SOB is right. You should write it, and I'm going to see to it that you do. This is your chance to really impress Ted with a feature, so make it good."

"Lana, I don't want it!"

"Yes you do, you just don't realize it yet."

My eyes squeeze shut at her words and I groan. "That's what Tanner said."

"In that case, I changed my mind. I still have words for that man, but they're good words now. Ya know, I should buy him something. Like a thank-you gift. A freaking gold statue. A harem of women. An unlimited supply of that hair-loss drug. Ya know, for when he starts to lose his youthful swagger and all. Damn. What the hell do you buy a man who has everything?"

"A thank-you gift?" I mock, laughing and covering my face. Why would I expect anything different from Lana? She's certifiably insane. This is just like her to jump on board with this plan.

"The man's brilliant; I need to thank him somehow."

"Oh, God. Don't tell him that. Trust me, his ego is already big enough."

"Well, he is. He must see what I see."

"And what is that exactly?"

"A woman who needs a chance to shine. This is your time, Anya Banks. You came aboard this ship and faced the ocean. Faced your demons head on. Now you can face anything. It's time to get you out of that cubicle back home, and this is the first step. Just think, if Ted likes your piece, then you could be traveling a lot more often. More than me, even. It's your dream, An. I know it is, so don't even try to pretend like you don't want this opportunity."

My hair twirls between my fingers as I consider her words, my gaze settling across the bedroom, out the window. Palms frame the view, and a beautiful stretch of teal blue sits just in the backdrop, calm and peaceful, inviting and welcoming. Today I think I'll finally get that swim I've been waiting for.

"Anya?" Lana's voice punctures my train of thought.

"Hhhmm?"

"Just admit that it's a brilliant idea."

I sigh and rest my head on my knees. "Fine. If it's really what you want."

"Yes! It's abso-freaking-lutely what I want, An. I'm gonna try to call Ted now. Hopefully I can get some service. Will keep you posted. Have fun, love!"

There's a click and she's gone, leaving me in a daze. I really don't want to take the feature from her, but not because I don't want to write the review. Deep, deep down, in the recess of my stomach, I know without a doubt that she and Tanner are right. I want this. I know it could potentially open new doors for me, not just with Four Corners Elite, but as a travel writer in general.

I don't want to write the review because I've earned it unjustly.

The bedroom's silence stirs around me as I stew in my thoughts. A few moments pass and the front door squeaks, shoes tapping on the white tile.

"Hey," I call out to Tanner, stretching my arms high above my head. "Come back to bed." The sheet slides down my torso, pooling around my waist, and I smile mischievously to myself, eager to greet him in my topless state. Nothing like another round with Tanner Christensen to relax me and make me forget that I've just caused my best friend to miss out on a project I know she wanted for herself.

He doesn't respond. There's a beat of silence and then shoes resume their tapping on the tile, the clacking growing louder as they approach the bedroom.

"I think things might be a little too crowded, don't you?" A woman steps through the bedroom door, one brow arching as she sneers at my naked body.

"Oh!" I jump and scramble for the sheet, bringing it up to my chin. This woman is middle aged, with flawlessly coifed blonde hair that hits just above her shoulders. A hint of gray highlights the silky blonde, and barely-there wrinkles spread from the corners of her eyes. She's all made up, face powdered and eyes lined, standing there in a peach-colored suit that's tailored to perfection. A white snakeskin bag hangs from one arm, with gold accents complementing her gold earrings and bracelet. "I'm...I'm so sorry," I stutter. "I thought you were someone else."

"Clearly." Her brow inches higher, expression unamused. "My son, perhaps?"

"Your..." I gulp and my face grows hot. My voice splinters and I think I might choke. "Your son?"

With a tilt of her chin, her nostrils flare. "Yes. I'm Margaret. Tanner's mother." Her gaze slices from left to right. "Now, would you mind telling me where he is? Once you've put on some clothes, that is." She burns me with a loathsome glare and turns to walk out, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

EIGHT

Curses pound my brain and I break into a sweat. I can't get my legs into my jean shorts fast enough. I tumble into the bathroom and cringe when I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. My skin is bright red, mascara blotchy beneath my eyes, my lipstick smeared over my chin. My bed-head hair is positively ghastly. I look like a five-dollar hooker on the strip.

I hurry and rinse my face off, then run my fingers through my hair, struggling to look at least somewhat presentable. How in God's name am I supposed to march out there and face this woman? Not just any woman; Tanner Christensen's mother, for fuck's sake! Not only have I crossed the line professionally by sleeping with the owner of the ship I'm reviewing, but now I truly see myself for what I am: just another one of Tanner's playthings. God only knows how many women his mother has found in his bed, just like me, clueless and tacky. Oh, God.

So, so tacky.

My lungs inhale a deep breath as I position myself at the bathroom door. I compose myself and step out.

When I walk through the bedroom door, I find her studying the shelves above the entertainment center, running her finger along the white wood, collecting dust. She scoffs under her breath. "Filthy."

I lightly clear my throat and she spins around, assessing me from head to toe. I adjust my t-shirt hem and tuck my hair behind my ear. I lift my chin and force myself to greet her head on. "I'm sorry for that introduction, Mrs. Christensen." I step forward, my bare feet noiseless on the tile. "I'm Anya Banks. A friend of Tanner's."

"A friend?" Her gaze lowers to my outstretched hand. She doesn't accept the shake, just stares at it as if it's disease ridden.

I recoil my hand and smooth it over my jean shorts. I change the subject. "Do you live here, on the island?"

"Oh, heavens, no." She swats at the air, shooing away my attempt at conversation. "Now, would you please tell me where my son is?"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure." I pick at my belt loop. "I just woke up, so..."

She groans in protest and turns back to the shelves, waving me off like hired help. "Very well. I'll wait. Go about your business."

My mouth hangs open as I stare at the woman's peach-colored back. My dignity is fried on the spot, and every bone in my body tells me to retreat back into the bedroom and crawl under the covers.

But I don't.

I buck up, square my shoulders, and count to ten. Then I walk around her and station myself in front of her, blocking her view of the shelves. "Perhaps you'd like something to drink? Some coffee or tea?"

Her eyes widen.

"I can make you some breakfast, if you'd like. There's plenty of food in the refrigerator."

"How would you know how my son stocks his refrigerator? Surely you haven't been around him long enough to be acquainted with his domestic habits."

Once again, the woman has rendered me speechless, but I quickly recover and stand my ground. "You're right. I haven't. I know because we stopped by the grocery shop on the way here last night to pick up some things."

"I don't know how women like you do it," she eyes me up and down, her voice thick with condescension. "Don't you have even a shred of self-respect?"

"Excuse me?" I cock my head and narrow my eyes. I might be just another girl in Tanner's bed, but this woman is making some very lofty assumptions about my character. "You don't know me, Mrs. Christensen."

"Oh, I know you." She points in my face. "I know all women like you. You hop from bed to bed, from man to man, with no regard for anyone but yourself. You think men like Tanner are gold mines—and they are. You use your youth and perky breasts to wiggle your way into their world, only the joke's always on women like you, my dear. In the blink of an eye, you're discarded like the trash you are."

The air is knocked from my lungs and the front door swings open, creaking on its hinges. Tanner walks in, shirtless and dripping in sweat in a pair of white running shorts. He slowly peels the earbuds from his ears as his stunned gaze settles on me and his bitch of a mother.

His face pales.

"Mom?" he pants, taking a hesitant step forward. "What are you doing here?"

She stalks up to him and plants a hand on her hip. "I think the more appropriate question is what are you doing here?" She gestures to me flippantly, her stony expression colder now that her son's entered the house.

"That's uncalled for."

"Uncalled for?" She snickers and glances at me. "What's uncalled for is me walking in to find this," she juts her chin at me, "naked in your bed. I thought we discussed this, Tanner William Christensen. I thought you understood your obligations. Clearly, your father's legacy is nothing but a joke to you. You're making a mockery of it by continuing to gallivant around this way. He must be rolling over in his grave!"

"That's enough." Tanner briskly steps forward, and in the blink of an eye, his stunned expression turns to one of rage. His eyes are wide, the muscles in his neck and shoulders bulging as he steps in front of his mother. He peers down at her, still reverent, but coiled tightly with protest. His voice is sharp. Measured. "Don't you dare tell me about my father's legacy. I'm very aware of my obligations. And this is a woman. A person, mother. Not a thing. Not a piece of garbage for you to humiliate." He looks to me, jaw stern, eyes hard and cold. "Anya, I apologize for my mother's behavior. You'll have to forgive her. She's still very hurt over my father's death and seems to think it's her right to intrude on my life and involve herself in my business."

"Business," Margaret huffs. "Is that what you call it nowadays?"

"I'll just let you two handle this." I raise my hands and scurry for the bedroom. Harsh whispering follows and then their voices rise until a shouting match commences. I can't help myself. I lean against the door and listen. Not that I can't already hear them loud and clear. If there were actually neighbors surrounding this secluded beach cottage, they'd be treated to the show, too.

"You still haven't answered my question, mother," Tanner insists. "What are you doing here?"

"I flew in to see my son!"

"Flew in on what?" Her broomstick, that's what.

"What do you mean, on what? Your father's jet, of course."

"I thought we agreed that would be auctioned off."

"And let Javier go? He's the finest pilot we've ever had. I'd never let that happen. Speaking of hired help, when was the last time the maid cleaned this place? Those shelves are atrocious. Dust everywhere!"

"Javier wouldn't be tossed out on the streets, mother. We offered him five years compensation upon leave. That was the agreement."

"Well I don't know if I like that agreement," she retorts petulantly.

"Dad would've wanted this," he presses. "He talked about downsizing, remember?"

"Remember? How could I forget a thing like that?"

"All he cared about was the ship. He made me swear up and down that the ship would be cared for. Everything else was to be donated. He was very clear."

"Well excuse me if I happen to believe keeping a good, honest pilot employed is more charitable than cutting him off from a job he's depended on for over ten years with nothing more than a few lousy grand to cover his expenses."

"Mother, since when do you care about goodness and honesty?"

The house falls silent and I step back from the door.

Margaret's voice drops to an eerily low octave, but I can still hear her. "Since your father made me promise that we'd do whatever necessary to ensure that the Trident Voyager remain number one on the seas, number one in the industry. Since it was his dying wish that his son manage it and see it grow to its utmost potential. Since he entrusted it in your care! Me keeping that word is good and honest, Tanner, and if that's not what you want to hear, then tough luck, because you'll have no sympathy from me. If you spent half of the time on shore tending to your responsibilities at home as you do running around this ship like an entitled, careless playboy, we wouldn't be on the verge of losing out on the merger your father so desperately wanted."

"We're not losing the merger, mother. I run the ship, and I run it well. You're wasting your time, coming out here like this. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a guest waiting for me."

"Do you honestly believe this won't all blow up in your face? Because I assure you, son, it will. And nothing will break your heart more, when you realize you've let your father down." Another wave of silence passes, and then the front door opens and closes. I run over to the bed and wait.

Tanner opens the bedroom door. His gaze lands on me and he stills. He's so excruciatingly handsome in nothing but running shorts and sneakers. His physical beauty distracts me for a moment, but I'm quickly drawn to the hurt in his eyes. I move to stand, but he motions for me to stop.

"What did she say to you?" he asks quietly.

I watch him cautiously and slowly shrug my shoulders. "All sorts of things. Don't worry about any of them."

Uncertainty colors his expression, lips bunching as his brows pull down. "Don't worry about any of them?"

I nod softly. "She was just upset. She found me...well, not in the best position."

The tension in his chest and shoulders seems to dissipate a bit, and he looks around the room, emptying his lungs in a long exhale. "She had no right to act that way. I truly am sorry."

"No need to apologize." It's his mother who should be apologizing. Not only to me, but to Tanner. Who speaks to her son that way? I don't know much about Tanner's father other than what he's shared with me, but that little display certainly told me all I need to know about his mother. Namely that she's incredibly insensitive to the fact that Tanner respects his father's legacy; he respects it much more than she's willing to acknowledge.

"I hope you slept well. If you'll excuse me, I need a shower." He strides across the room and heads straight for the bathroom. He disappears behind the door and I remain there on the edge of the bed, feeling all sorts of uncomfortable. I didn't expect to be thrown into the midst of a personal family squabble this morning, and certainly not Tanner Christensen's. The lines are blurring, growing messier already, and I've barely touched the surface for my review feature. My curiosity is nowhere near quenched now. Not after hearing all of that. The thirst has grown tenfold, and a pang of guilt taps at me, reminding me to reel it all in. I cannot mix business with this—my personal time with Tanner. It isn't fair, not to mention it sucks all the fun out of our arrangement.

Determined to shut that door, I decide to get up and search through my bag for my swimsuit and head out onto the beach for that much-needed swim. I slip into my spare white bikini—Tanner's destroyed my favorite teal one—and dig through my bag for sunscreen. The sunscreen is nowhere to be found, but I do find my sunglasses. I slide them on top of my head and wander over to the bedside table in search of some extra sunscreen. Tanner must have some lying around here somewhere.

I crouch down and search the little shelf beneath the lamp, then open the drawer. The inside isn't nearly as neat as the table top. I dig through piles of papers, energy bars, boxes of condoms. My fingers make contact with something hard—glass, I think. I latch onto it and push a stack of papers to the side. A picture frame is revealed, the edges decorated with seashells, as if the frame were a poorly constructed kid's craft project. The glass is dusty, but I can make out the photo. It's of a young, blond boy with striking blue eyes and an older version of him, holding the boy up on his shoulders. They both have the same sun-kissed skin, the same good looks, and judging from the sparkle in their eyes as they smile, the same charm.

My curiosity gets the best of me and I start searching for more photos, moving stacks of receipts aside to rifle to the bottom of the drawer. Two more picture frames catch my attention, one holding a photo of a woman I recognize as Tanner's mother. She's also much younger in this picture, but the same aura of pure wealth and arrogance radiates from her expression, leaking right from the photograph onto my fingers. The other picture is of Tanner and a woman I don't know. Definitely not the brunette plaything from the hallway. It's a newer photo, showcasing the couple at the top of the ship's main spiral stairwell. I recognize the space immediately. It's one of the first things you see when you board, designed to catch your attention.

Tanner's arm is protectively draped around her waist, his body turned to the side slightly, as if he's stepping in front to guard her. She's something fresh out of a glamour magazine, with warm, bronze skin, and jet black hair. Her teeth are perfect—starkly white against her honey brown skin. A dark plum gown graces her tall, elegant body, complementing Tanner's sleek, polished black tux beautifully. Tanner's smiling, too, the creases around his eyes bringing about that same sparkle that's present in the photo of him as a child, with his father. I'm mesmerized for a moment at the transformation, both photos lying side by side in the drawer, the one of Margaret buried beneath them. I can't imagine the pressure that comes with owning such a huge vessel, such a huge business. It's a responsibility I surely wouldn't ever want.

I close the bedside table drawer and wander over to the other side of the bed to search the other one. Still no luck finding sunscreen, but I do find more photos. These aren't in frames, just a variety of prints stored loosely in a white envelope. Some shots of Tanner fishing with his dad as a kid, some of him with a track team. Cross country, I think. The water stops running in the bathroom and I close the drawer, resolved to give up on my sunscreen search.

"Anya?" Tanner calls out.

"Yeah?"

"What are you up to?"

"Just getting ready to go for a swim." I walk to the dresser and pick up a clean towel from the pile of neatly folded ones. "I'll be out on the beach."

"Have you eaten anything for breakfast?"

"No, not hungry."

"I'm going to grab a bite and then I'll meet you out there."

"Okay. Hey, do you have any sunscreen in there? I think I left mine back at the cabana."

"Sure." The bathroom door clicks open and I walk toward it, slowing when I see him brushing his teeth, wrapped in a towel. It's hanging low on his waist, droplets of water dotting his rigid abdomen. He wipes the steam from the mirror and catches my gaze. He stops brushing and rinses his mouth, a slow smile spreading from ear to ear. "You're wearing a white one today," he comments on my bikini.

"You ruined the teal one."

"I did." He smiles with all the pride in the world. "But I won't let you return to the mainland without a replacement, Miss Banks. Let me know your size and the name of the brand, and I'll see to it that a new one is delivered to your doorstep when you arrive."

"Tanner, that's really not necessary." I glance down at the white suit and shrug. "I like this one just fine." Spotting the sunscreen on the bathroom counter, I reach forward and pluck it up, then turn to leave him be, but his hand closes around my wrist.

"Anya," he says softly. "Whatever my mother said to you, please forget it."

"She didn't say anything I don't already know."

He pulls me into the bathroom and takes the towel and sunscreen from my hands, setting them on the sink. He lifts me and sets me next to them. My legs dangle over the edge, and he holds me there, his palms flat on the marble, next to my thighs. "And that is?"

"That I'm just another one of your playthings. That's not what upset me."

His eyes narrow with confusion. "It's not?"

"No. I mean, the reality is we are just...playmates. It's the other thing she said. Or more so assumed."

"What did she assume?" He watches me carefully.

"Just that I do this sort of thing all the time."

"This sort of thing?"

"Roll around in rich men's beds."

His eyes drift shut and he sighs. "My mother is used to seeing me with different women. I would say that is no reflection on you, but that isn't true. She sees you all the same. Out for my money, out to corrupt me." He laughs darkly, glancing up at the ceiling. "When I'm the one doing the corrupting."

"Mothers see what they want to see."

"Truer words were never spoken."

As his gaze falls back to mine, I'm suddenly stricken with the same earlier pang of guilt, and the words begin to tumble out before I can stop them, much less process them. "I heard everything. Earlier, I mean. Between you and your mother."

"I kind of figured that."

"I'm not just a neurotic writer, I'm a nosey one."

"And honest, too." His irises light up with playfulness. "What would you like to know?"

"Honestly?"

"Always."

I plant my palms on his bare chest, sliding them up until they split over his collarbone and meet his shoulders. "I'd like to know more about your father." I recognize I'm treading shaky ground here, especially after his shouting match with his mother, but I really do want to know, not just on a professional level, but a personal level. How will I ever know who Tanner Christensen the businessman is, if I don't get to know Tanner Christensen, the man?

A cloud hovers and smothers the glimmer in his eyes, and he backs away from the bathroom sink, guiding my hands away from his shoulders.

I feel my face fall. I've pushed it, and now he's closing up on me. "Forget it," I murmur, sliding down from the sink. I collect my towel and sunscreen. "I shouldn't have gone there."

"Miss Banks."

I stop in the doorway. "Anya. It's Anya, right now, Tanner."

"Anya."

"Yes?"

"I'll see you out on the beach."

"Sounds good." I give him a brisk nod and head out the back door, planting my toes in the sand and dropping my towel the second the sun hits my skin. I'm just feet from the water, lounging out on Tanner's very own stretch of sand. I revel in the privacy of the beachfront property, and push all thoughts of Tanner's father's legacy from my mind. Today, I'm in the beautiful, sunny Caribbean, and I intend to enjoy every second of it. If I can't make any progress with the business part of my trip, I'm determined to do so with the pleasurable part. And every part of spending time with Tanner Christensen is certainly pleasurable.

I flip the cap on the sunscreen and begin to apply it generously over my arms and legs, then move on to my face and neck. The calm, blue-green water beckons me. This time Jonah isn't here to distract me. This time, I'm alone. This time, I will swim if it kills me. I stand and stalk forward to meet the ocean head on. Flashes of Zoe's face assault me the closer my feet come to the water, but I push on. Despite a horrid run-in with Tanner's mother and the roadblock that Tanner's placed in front of my research efforts, today is all about fun.

It's time to play.

***

"You're glowing," Tanner says as I trudge back up to the shore.

"I am," I grin, gratefully accepting the fresh towel he hands me. "And you're a stalker."

"It's not very nice to name call, Anya." He tugs the end of the towel and lightly wipes at my face. My nose scrunches and I dodge the contact, but I can't escape. Tanner's been sitting on the beach, watching me swim to my heart's delight for the past hour, and now he's turning and wrapping me in the huge towel like a burrito. He spins me, and once I'm folded snugly, brings me against his chest. I stare out at the ocean, relaxed and triumphant.

For the first twenty minutes in the ocean, I simply kept my head above water, focusing on my breathing and treading with my arms and legs. As time went on and I realized I had control, my body grew more lax. Eventually, I was able to float on my back. Just float and stare up at the clear blue sky and big, white fluffy clouds. Stare as my demons scattered and the sun kissed my skin.

It was heaven.

"How about some lunch?"

"You just had breakfast a little over an hour ago."

"I did. But you haven't eaten. Shall I make you something?" He rests his chin atop my head and joins me in staring out at the horizon. Warm, balmy air swamps us, the same summer breeze I experience back home, in Florida, but there's a nice breeze here, distinctly tropical.

"You, fix me something?"

"I do know how to make a sandwich, Miss Banks."

"I thought you had a maid or cook or something to handle all of that for you."

"I did my own grocery shopping last night, didn't I?"

"I'm shocked you even did that." I laugh, and his arms tighten over my chest. He bites at my ear.

"What do I have to do to prove to you that just because I'm rich, doesn't mean I'm not capable of taking care of myself?"

"I don't know, do some laundry?"

"Laundry is too easy."

"So is making me a sandwich."

"Making a sandwich is serious business."

"Um, no. No it isn't."

"You clearly haven't enjoyed a proper sandwich, then."

"Give it up, Tanner. You're not feeding me. I'm not hungry." And really, I'm not. I'm still full from all the junk food Lana and Brie have been shoveling my way since the cruise began.

"So, no laundry, and no sandwich making..."

My eyes gleam as an idea manifests. I squirm and turn around in his arms, clasping my hands along the back of his waist. I grin up at him deviously. "I know what you can do to prove it to me."

He peers down at me suspiciously. "I'm listening."

"Clean the living room."

"That's as easy as folding laundry."

"Oh, cleaning a living room is an art. It involves more than straightening couch cushions, you know. It means organizing and dusting. Yes! You need to dust." I turn my nose up in the air and swing my arm out to the side, calling on my inner Margaret to mimic his snooty mother. I think I even have her voice down pat. "After all, Tanner William Christensen, those living room shelves are filthy."

His white teeth flash as he shakes his head and glances in the distance. "You think you're so clever, don't you, Miss Banks?"

"Well, do you accept the challenge?"

Tanner releases me and folds his arms over his chest. His muscles flex with the movement, and I can't help but eye his beautiful build. He reaches out and brings a finger to my chin, tilting my head up to meet his gaze. "I never turn down a challenge."

"Then it's time to get to work." I drop my towel and dart around him, racing back up to the beach house. His feet pound the sand behind me. The second we're back inside the house, my mind is churning. I'm a woman on a mission. I hurry into the kitchen to search the pantry, grabbing a duster, some cleaning spray, and an apron that's hanging from one of the hooks on the wall. My eyes light up when I see it, and I can't resist.

"That isn't happening, Anya," he says sternly from behind. When I turn from the pantry, I find him staring me down, arms casually draped over his chest.

"This is one of my conditions." I hold out the white apron.

"You didn't say anything about conditions."

"I'm saying something now."

"Aprons are for cooking, not for dusting." He eyes the duster in my other hand, arching a disapproving brow.

"Not in Anya's fantasy world."

A speck of amusement teases his lips, but he clears his throat and bites it back. "Is that so?"

"Yup." I shove the apron into his abdomen. "See, in Anya's fantasy world, rich, sexy men such as you clean the house naked. Covered in nothing but an apron."

"Men with dusters? That's what you fantasize about? Oh, baby, we really need to work on broadening your horizons. It'd be my pleasure to enlighten you." He begins to prowl forward, ready to take charge, but I match his steps, moving backward until my back bumps into the pantry doorknob.

"Ah, ah," I singsong, wiggling my finger at him. "You drop the trunks and wear the apron or no deal. I'll remain convinced that you are incapable of handling simple, domestic tasks on your own."

A cross between a groan and a growl vibrates in his throat and there's a flare of resistance in his baby blues. He snatches the apron from my fist and rolls his neck, looking to the ceiling as if he's counting to five and practicing some sort of breathing exercise. A giggle is on the verge of exploding from my chest, but I swallow it down. I don't want to kill his cooperation.

With one swift movement, he drops his swim trunks and wraps the white apron around his waist. He's hard beneath it, and it's utterly distracting, but my eyes travel greedily up to his bare, sleek abdomen. He's insanely scrumptious. I'm going to enjoy every second of this.

"Does this please you, Anya?" His voice turns silky and seductive, and my eyes flick up to his. He's smiling down at me, well aware of what he's doing. This same tone is the one that turned me to mush the first time I went to bed with him.

"Very much."

"Do you mind?" He gestures to the duster.

"Be my guest." I hand it to him and my smile widens as he turns to walk toward the living room. His ass is perfect, as is the slope of his chiseled back. This view is certainly what dreams are made of. There's simply nothing like a strong, hard male in nothing but a scrap of white material, ready to clean house.

I sigh happily and follow him into the living room, settling into the chic cream-colored sofa. It's plush and sophisticated, just like the décor back on the Trident Voyager, but with a touch of casual flair.

"Where shall I start?" He stops in front of the entertainment center and faces me.

"The shelves." I point and gesture for him to spin around. He gives me a knowing smile and pivots, starting with the top shelf. He sweeps the duster over the white wood, humming to himself as he goes, and I sit back and enjoy the view. A grin is plastered to my face, my arms cradling the back of my head as I lounge back. Tanner moves on to the next shelf down. "You missed a spot."

"Anya Banks, if you think there won't be repercussions for this, you're sorely mistaken."

"Hey, this was all your idea."

He glances over his shoulder, eyes dropping to the white string over his lower back and then up, to the duster in his hand. "This was not my idea."

"Just think. You're proving me wrong, Mr. Christensen. Wasn't that your goal?"

"Why do I get the feeling this is somehow payback?"

"Payback? For what?" My brows lift in interest.

"For not answering all of your interview questions to your satisfaction."

"Aha!" I sit up, placing my palms on the couch cushions. "So you admit you're being difficult."

"I said no such thing."

"There you go again, being difficult."

"This topic is closed for discussion." He swipes at the shelf and continues downward, brushing the space above the television.

"You just blew it wide open." I stand and stroll toward him, stopping just behind his back. I reach up on my tip toes and press a kiss to his shoulder. His skin jumps beneath my lips and he turns slightly, thick lashes drawing down as his blue eyes find my brown ones.

"There's nothing about me—or my father, for that matter—that you can't Google."

"That's a crock if I ever heard one."

He turns to face me fully, revealing an austere expression.

"The media only tells us what they want us to know. The internet can't tell me what your father meant to you. Or how you view his legacy. It can't tell me about the emotions that swamped you when you heard of his death or what your fondest memory of him is. It can't tell me about you, Tanner. It can only tell me about Tanner William Christensen, owner of Trident Voyager."

"Why do you need to know those things?" he asks quietly. The playfulness is sucked from the air around us, our banter going straight with it. I watch him closely, realizing I've yet again opened a wound. I seem to keep reinjuring the same one, but I can't help myself. I'm thirsty to know, and something tells me it would do him good to let it out.

"I don't need to know them; I want to know them."

"So you can use the information for your magazine?"

"Yes and no."

"Well, which is it?"

It dawns on me what he must be thinking of me right now. And what likely made him turn cold on me earlier. "Tanner," I say carefully. "You don't think...you don't honestly believe I'd hurt you, do you?"

"I don't know you. I don't know what you'd do." His expression is so grave, so earnest, it nearly blows me back.

"I suppose that's true." I fall back a step, blinking as I process his words. "I'm just another girl in your bed. You must be used to women sleeping with you for your money all the time. Why would magazine writers sleeping with you for information be any different?"

"Anya, I don't mean to insult your professionalism."

A dismayed laugh passes over my lips, and disappointment pulls at the smile that was there just seconds ago. "Of course not. I've already done that myself."

Once again, his hands snakes out and wraps around my wrist, stopping me in my tracks before I can move away. "All I mean to say is that this...this information you're asking me for is very personal, do you understand? No one is privy to it, not even my family. To share it with a writer who might use that to her own advantage—"

"I get it." I hold up a hand. "You're only watching out for your best interest."

"I truly hope you understand."

"Of course." I shrug, and I know I can't help but appear insulted. Despite the practicality of it all, I'm offended by the precaution. "I guess I just thought..."

"Thought what?" His fingers loosen around my wrist and he studies me.

"Well, I hoped I'd made a better impression than that, that's all. I'm not the type of girl to sleep around, that you already know. And I'm certainly not the type of girl to sleep with someone just so I can deceive him to get what I want. I don't know much about the other women you've been with, but I'm not one of them. You said I'm a woman of integrity. When you first met me. If you meant that, you wouldn't lump me in with thieves and liars."

"I never called you a liar. Or a thief."

"Well, you certainly implied it."

"I'm only being cautious, Miss Banks."

I glance at the clock on the wall, above Tanner's head. "It's after one. I better get going. I promised Lana and Brie I'd join them at the cabana."

"Hey." His hand suddenly cups my face and he bends to kiss me. This kiss is soft and careful, sensual to the core. A surprised whimper rushes up my throat and I melt into him, leaning into the kiss. "I'm sorry."

"Lana can still have the review," I pant against his mouth, my head dizzy from his change in direction. "Or I can find another angle for the feature. I'll think of something. You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I never should've crossed the line. I never should've slept with you and blurred the—"

He cuts me off with another kiss. This one's more heated, firmer and demanding. "Anya," he whispers, "I said I'm sorry. And you shouldn't be for sleeping with me. I propositioned you, not the other way around." He gives his apron an abrupt tug and tosses it to the floor, dropping the duster along with it. With a quick heave of his arms, he lifts me off the floor and wraps my legs around him, kissing me deeply, until his tongue delves to the back of my throat.

"But I encouraged you," I gasp, dragging in air.

"And I wanted it. Still do." He tugs at my wet hair and starts to walk forward, bumping into the edge of the coffee table as he passes through the living room. "Now, enough. I'm going to take you on the kitchen table and then you can go spend time with your girlfriends. I'll fuck this nonsense right out of you and we'll forget this conversation ever took place." His torso brushes mine and he carries me into the kitchen, ripping at my bikini. I'm damp, sandy, and sliding all over the place as he sets me on the edge of the table, but all I really register is the rush of blood, heat, and pure, luscious sensation crawling down my spine.

Tanner slides his hips between my legs and thrusts inside of me, sucking hard on my bottom lip as he drives deep. Stars explode and the room comes alive, awakening me with it. I thought I was alert before, standing in that living room, arguing with a naked, apron-clad cruise ship billionaire, but as he pounds me into the kitchen table, I realize my body is never as fully alive as it is when he's inside of me.

"Lie down," he orders gruffly, hammering into me. "Hands above your head. Grip the edge of the table. Now, Miss Banks."

I let go of his shoulders and lie back against the small kitchen table, letting my hands float above my head. My fingers spread, palms searching for the edge. I locate it and clamp down, watching as he lifts my legs higher up his waist and leans forward. His arms hook under my knees and he pushes his thighs against the table to give himself leverage, sending me quick, sharp, thrusts.

"Oh, God, Tanner," my voice shakes as my body jolts back and forth. "More. Please, more."

"You're learning," he smiles down at me, his gaze distracted by the bouncing of my breasts. "To speak up about what pleases you."

"You please me."

"Damn right, I do."

"Smug," I breathe, closing my eyes to absorb the pleasure.

"Fresh."

And we are, for the next twenty minutes, until Tanner delivers us to paradise central. As I drift down from the high, I know I'll never forget Alvita. The luxurious, privately owned island where I learned to conquer, learned to play.

NINE

"So, let me get this straight. You can't see anyone while you're screwing Tanner, yet you're heading out right now to meet Jonah for drinks?"

"And you're coming with me." I pull up the hem of my sweetheart neckline, making sure the girls are snug and in place.

"I'm so confused. Are you confused?" Lana drops to the edge of the bed with a pout and eyes Brie.

"Um, yeah," Brie looks at me, all doe-eyed and innocent, "you guys lost me at Jonah."

"Ya know," Lana shrugs, "the guy An was with at the cabana. When Tanner showed up all ready to stake his claim."

"Tanner was not staking his claim." I tsk my tongue and roll my eyes playfully at Lana, leaning closer to the little vanity mirror to adjust my gold necklace.

"Pffft, okay," Lana snorts.

"He wasn't. There is none of that going on with Tanner and me."

"Right." Lana crosses her arms and casts a side glance to Brie. "Soooo, if Tanner started seeing someone else right now, you wouldn't go all crazy jealous bitch on him? 'Cause I swear, An, if you say no, I'm totally callin' you on your bullshit."

I laugh and spin around to face my friends. Brie is enraptured, sitting cross legged and munching on a blueberry muffin, while Lana is insistent on driving me mad. "Why is that so hard to believe? Tanner and I are just having a fling. I've never had one before, and you encouraged it, remember? Hell, you practically set the whole thing up! Now that I'm going with the flow, you're trying to turn it into something serious. I don't get you, woman."

"That's because there's a whole lotta serious happenin' there," Lana twirls her finger in the air, "and apparently you're just blind. That man looks at you like he wants to devour you. Ain't nothin' casual about that."

"Of course he looks at me that way. He's screwing me."

"No, An. This look is...possessive. Like he's marked you or something."

"Wait," Brie speaks up, "I'm still lost, though. You have this agreement to not see other people during your...fling, or whatever it is. So explain to me again why you're seeing this Jonah dude?"

"That's what I'm saying!" Lana sighs and throws her hands in the air.

"I'm not seeing him, it's just dinner and some drinks. I'm just not supposed to see, see him."

"This was Tanner's idea?"

"Not really." My lips bunch as I try to recall the agreement. "It was more of an offer. He agreed to see me exclusively for the week, and he asked for the same from me."

Brie gapes at me. "And he knows you're getting together with Jonah tonight?"

"Yeah, he knows."

"And he's okay with it?"

"He's totally fine with it. As long as my body is his and only his for the remainder of the cruise, he won't object. Now will you two get your arses up so we can go? I told Jonah you guys were coming."

Lana begins to whimper like a puppy. "Oh, but we're so tired, An. We want to wear PJs, watch the Food Network, drink wine, and discuss our foodgasms. We've been out and about all week. It's time to chill. You go have fun."

"You're seriously turning down a night out? Lana, Queen of Living it Up is turning down an evening at the Bordeaux Room?"

"Meh. I'm over it. A pint of German chocolate ice cream is calling my name. Brie," she turns and carefully plucks the blueberry muffin wrapper from her hand, "put your hands up and step away from the muffin. It's time to move on, honey." She rises and trots over to the minibar, collects some paper cups, and begins pouring the wine.

"Aawww, we can't do a girls' night-in without her, Lana!"

"Oh yes we can," Lana mumbles as she spoons a glob of ice cream into her mouth. She walks back to the bed and hands Brie her cup of wine, then sinks down again and digs into her ice cream. "Don't feel sorry for her, girl. She'll be getting the full treatment from Mr. Christensen." Her eyebrows wiggle as she dives in for another scoop.

"I'm not seeing Tanner tonight." I collect my clutch and brush my bangs to the side, moving for the cabin door. "I shouldn't be home too late."

"Please. Twenty bucks says you'll wake up in Tanner's bed tomorrow morning."

Brie nods. "Anya, I gotta say, I have to go with Lana on this one. Make it forty."

"Fine." I purse my lips at them then turn for the door. "Be ready to pay up first thing in the morning, girls."

"Ka-ching, ka-ching!" Lana blurts after me.

"Goodnight, Lana Crawley." I turn and face them as I open the door. "Brie, make sure she doesn't die from an ice cream overdose."

"Oh my God!" Brie's eyes get so big, I'm almost afraid for her. They might just pop out of their sockets. "That would be the very best way to go."

"Right?" Lana shrieks, nudging her side. They tumble into a fit of laughter and I leave them to it, letting the cabin door close quietly behind me. What a bunch of crazies.

I don't make it far down the hall before a voice approaches me from behind. Not just any voice. A smooth, charming, and very calculating voice. "How are you this evening, Miss Banks?" Tanner asks, coming up on my heels. "You're looking lovely."

"As are you, Mr. Christensen. What are you doing around these parts tonight?"

"Just doing my rounds." He's cool and indifferent, but when he sizes me up in a sly side glance, he gives himself away. "Please, allow me to escort you to your date." He steps next to me, meeting my stride, and lowers his arm to my back, guiding me forward.

"I don't think that's necessary, Mr. Christensen. Thank you, though."

"I would hate to see a beautiful woman such as you arrive without a man on your arm."

"I will have a man on my arm shortly." I chance a smile as I peek up at him, expecting to find the same, but instead his eyes have darkened, the blue deepening.

"Note I said a man, Miss Banks. Not a boy, a man." He leans down to speak closely in my ear, nodding politely at some passerby. His hand presses down on my back, the pressure firm and commanding. "Don't play with me, Anya."

"Isn't that what you want? To play?" I bat my eyes innocently, but there's nothing innocent brewing in my crafty brain tonight. I've learned that it's much too fun to toy with Tanner like this. Now that I know what gets under his skin, I simply can't deny myself the pleasure of pissing him off. He might own me in bed, but here, on neutral ground, I have full permission to reign supreme. Maybe I was right.

Maybe Lana really has been rubbing off on me.

Smugness radiates from me right now, but the truth is, now that Tanner's hands are on me, all I really want is to be his. I would gladly let him whisk me away into a utility closet somewhere if it meant the chance to submit to his dominating ways. They really have become addictive, and I'm afraid my body will go through some sort of withdrawal once our little arrangement is over. I wonder if a rehab exists somewhere for Tanner Christensen's ex-playthings. I wonder if such a hell exists.

"Just for that, Miss Banks, you'll be on your knees this evening," he whispers darkly, sending shivers down my neck.

I smile sweetly. "I won't be seeing you this evening, Mr. Christensen. I have a date, remember?"

"Oh, you'll be seeing me." He laughs lightly, so damned amused with himself. "You'll come running when your date with Junior is over. And your mouth will water."

"I hope your hand is free tonight," I quip, turning so my lips brush the edge of his jaw. "Otherwise you might be awfully lonely."

He groans and gives me a sharp tug, diverting me to the left, around the first corner at the end of the hall. "You're going to be late."

"What? Tanner, no! My dress!" He slips a key card from his pocket and moves me toward a door on the right, and I realize my dreams have just come true. Tanner Christensen, in the flesh, is shoving me inside a utility closet. I'm inwardly cheering him on, but I don't dare verbalize it for the man. No way am I giving him the satisfaction he's craving.

There are no words. He hoists me up and slams me against the wall, and a mop handle thumps to the floor next to us. He kicks a bucket out of the way and shimmies my dress up my hips. His mouth hits mine like fire, razor sharp, and his fingers find my clit, rubbing in measured, even circles.

"I'm sending you to him wet and satisfied," he exhales into my mouth. "Do you want that?"

I moan against his tongue.

"Say yes."

"Yes."

"Don't worry about your dress. You'll take care of me later." He leans and nips at my collarbone. "Ladies first." I suddenly wish I could take care of him now, on my knees, just as he warned, but I am pretty glad I'll be able to keep most of my dress intact. "Go ahead, Anya. Tell me what you want."

"I want you to make me come."

"Like this?" He slides his fingers deep, watching my reaction. "Or with my mouth."

"Like this." I tilt to meet his hand.

"Don't you love my mouth?"

"I love your mouth."

"But?" He pushes higher and swirls his thumb.

"But I want to taste it right now."

"Good girl," he whispers, then moves in to attack me with a kiss. His heat weighs down on me and his fingers get busy, rolling and pumping, alternating their rhythm until he's worked me higher and higher, bringing me to a ledge.

I don't last long.

It seems my body's been craving him all evening. He smothers my shout and waits as I blast off, then plummet back to Earth, letting me ride his hand until he's taken every last drop of my pleasure.

"Tanner," I sigh, slumping against his shoulder, "I think I love you."

His body goes stone still and his arms turn rigid against me. The dazed look in his eyes shifts. They are filled with clarity...then fear.

I let out a winded laugh and smack his shoulder. "Kidding, Tanner. Kidding."

He exhales heavily and rakes a hand through his hair. His eyes are darting everywhere as he works to resume his cool. "There would certainly be worse things in the world, Miss Banks."

My jaw drops.

He straightens his tie and fidgets with his belt, then works to shimmy my dress back down my thighs. "Stunning, as usual," he comments, grinning easily. It's genuine, but something about it is off kilter, as if he's not entirely committed to the expression.

I pick my jaw up off the floor and hurry to find my compact in my clutch. I do a quick check to make sure my hair is in place and that my bangs are behaving. My rosy red cheeks jump out at me and butterflies flounce around in my stomach like kids in a bouncy house.

He watches me check my reflection. "Now that I've taken care of you, I believe it's time to deliver you to Junior."

"His name's Jonah."

"Jonah, Junior, same thing."

I close my clutch and let him lead me out of the closet and back into the hall. My body is still buzzing, cheeks still warm. As Tanner guides me into the elevator, I suddenly wish I hadn't agreed to dinner with Jonah. I wish I hadn't led him on at all. But how was I to know what awaited me with Tanner? I'd met Jonah first, after all, and I hadn't expected any of this. Now I was simply being a tease, and that was a role Lana knew how to play out, not me.

When we arrive at the Bordeaux Room, Tanner makes a show of locking my arm in his, holding his head high as we enter through the main doors. His casual-yet-refined presence turns heads the moment we arrive. Staff members jump to attention, the women stare, and when Jonah stands from the reception area to greet me, he seems to shrink before Tanner's intimidating shadow.

Tanner notices. He smiles.

"Jonah, was it?" He extends the same hand that was just between my thighs, and I quickly untangle my arm from his.

"Yeah, good to see you again, man." Jonah gives him a quick shake, looking more than just uncomfortable. He's completely perplexed. I don't blame him.

"Tanner offered to escort me to the restaurant," I say, moving to step next to him.

"Oh, that was nice of him." Jonah takes my hand and glances up at Tanner.

"Anything I can do to make my guests' sailing experience more pleasurable." His eyes twinkle as he looks to me with a wicked tip of his lips. I want to stomp on his fancy, leather shoes.

"Well, thanks again, Mr. Christensen," I say, linking my fingers tighter with Jonah's. Tanner doesn't miss the contact, but his observation is fleeting. He cordially taps Jonah on the shoulder and turns to leave.

"Enjoy your meal. I suggest tonight's house red. It's superb." Smoothing his tie, he makes his exit, and I finally exhale. I don't think I have since we walked through the restaurant doors.

"He's mighty...friendly," Jonah comments, leading the way to the hostess station. "I've seen you around with him quite a bit. Is he a good friend?"

"Something like that. A business acquaintance."

"Ah, right. The magazine review."

"Yeah, I've been interviewing him for the feature."

"Well," he runs his thumb up and down mine, "enough of that. You look incredible. You hungry?"

"Starved."

The hostess greets us and summons a waitress to show us to a table. We order drinks and chat about the menu. The energy between us is noticeably different than our last run in. It's abundantly clear Jonah feels slighted by my arriving with Tanner on my arm, and in his defense, he has every right to be. I only wish I didn't feel so distracted myself. Since Tanner whisked me away into that utility closet, my mind's been drifting, replaying the feel of his hands on me, and his words.

There would certainly be worse things in the world, Miss Banks.

"Anya?" Jonah's voice cuts in.

I focus on his face. He's really miffed now.

"Sorry, you were saying?"

"Do you know what you'd like to order?" He gives an irritated nod to the waitress standing at our table. She's waiting patiently, pen in hand. Damn. I didn't even notice her return to take our order.

"Oh. Yes. The ginger glazed mahi mahi, please. Thank you." I hand her my menu and slide my napkin on my lap, then take a big gulp of red wine.

Jonah orders the same and inhales sharply, crossing his arms to lean forward on the table. "So, Anya, can I be straight with you?"

I dab at my mouth with my napkin. "Go for it."

"I'm not sure what I'm doing here."

"What you're doing here?"

"I don't know how to say this without sounding like a total jackass, but..."

"Jonah—"

"Do I have any shot with you at all? Or is this whole thing a big waste of time? 'Cause I was under the impression we hit it off the first night we met. I'm wondering if I read that wrong."

I sink back into the seat, bringing my napkin back to my lap. "We did. We did hit it off."

He watches me for a second and his shoulders relax a bit. He sits back and gestures between us. "Okay, so...you're interested?"

"I am, I'm just a bit tied up this week." I bite my lip, unsure how to explain it any differently. I was attracted to Jonah from the get-go. Still am. But I wasn't expecting a fling with Tanner Christensen after I met him, especially not one that lasted the duration of the cruise.

"What does that mean, exactly?"

My gaze dances over the table, eyeing a trail of breadcrumbs. "Where do you live?"

His brow furrows. "Where do I live?"

"Yeah, where do you call home? You said Central Florida, right?"

"Yeah, Orlando...why?"

"Because when the cruise is over, I'm free. I mean, I can do this—" I gesture between us, "when it's over. When I'm not distracted with work and..." and blue-eyed billionaires. "I just have a lot going on right now. So the answer to your question is, no, this isn't a waste of time. At least, I don't think so. But while we're being frank, I shouldn't have agreed to come here with you tonight." I slowly stand and fish some crisp bills from my clutch, then swipe one of my business cards and hand it to him. I place the cash on the table. "I'm not available right now. If you're still interested in going out when we get back to shore, give me a call."

He accepts the card and looks around, half rising to his knees. "Uh...okay. Sure, okay."

I nod firmly and slip out of the booth. That was easier than I thought.

"Whoa, wait. What about your meal?"

"Ask for a box. Take it home." I smile. "Thanks, Jonah." I reach over and squeeze his knuckle, then quickly turn and beeline it for the exit.

Freedom swamps me when I step through the doors and out into the hall, and it follows me into the elevator. My finger jumps over the buttons, making a split decision at the last minute, as the doors slide close.

When they reopen, I find myself in front of Tanner's office, instead of back at my room for girls' night. I step out of the elevator and pause in front of the entrance, fixated on his name engraved into the silver plaque to the left. It's late, past business hours, anyway, but the doors are wide open, and I find Heidi the secretary sitting there, typing away under dim light.

"Hey there," she replies without looking up, her fingers flying over the keyboard, "Mr. Christensen's gone for the evening."

"I know, I just saw him a little bit ago."

She looks up, peering at me through her glasses. She squeezes the bridge of her nose. "Ah, Miss Banks, right? So sorry, I'm exhausted. Long day."

I smile kindly. "I understand. What are you still doing here?"

"Oh, I'm so behind today. This merger business is madness! Did you say you just saw Mr. Christensen? Do you need his number? I can call him for you if you'd like, but I can't promise he'll answer. He's taken the evening off."

"That's no problem, I'll call him myself. Thank you, though. May I take a seat in his office?"

"Certainly." She removes her glasses and wipes them with a lens cloth. "Let me know if you get a hold of him."

"Will do." I enter his office and find the light on; the view that's normally blue and breathtaking is now stark black and utterly eerie this time of night. I waltz over to his desk chair and pull out my cell, intent to give him a ring. But when I step around the desk and station myself in front of the chair, I freeze.

Sticky notes. Sticky notes everywhere.

I blow out a long sigh and drop into the chair, setting the phone down. Oh, this man will drive me mad. I begin plucking them up, one by one, searching for patterns and assigning categories for them, collecting the greens and yellows, then the blues. A pen rolls to the left across the desktop as I get to work, and I feel the ship floor sway lightly beneath my feet. The pen rolls back, and my eyes jump to follow its direction.

Frustrated, I return to the task at hand, snatching up the notes that are plastered all over Tanner's telephone. There's something there about calling his mother back—oh his sweet, doll of a mother—and something about some big merger meeting next week. There are more phone numbers than I can keep up with, all paired with names I can't make out. This man's handwriting is atrocious! And for the love of Pete, why is he still living in the dark ages, keeping valuable information like this on damn miniature-sized pieces of paper!

I begin to feel better when I see I'm making some progress, once again clearing some space so the desktop is actually visible. I collect the last stray notes and I'm drawn to the pen again, which is rolling toward the telephone. My legs register the roll of the ship, and a sudden lump rises in my throat. I release the notes and carefully latch on to the edge of the desk, lifting my head to stare straight ahead. I'm not certain, but I believe this is what people call sea sickness—or the beginning of it, anyway. Dizziness swirls around me and disorientation takes root, messing with my sense of direction.

I rise warily, still holding on to the edge of the desk, and begin to feel my way to the right, away from the chair. The ship's rocking increases subtly. Not enough to knock me off balance, but enough to get my attention. I feel for my phone and grip my clutch tightly, moving for the door. Another roll sends me tilting, and I work to steady myself, pushing down the nausea that's slowly creeping up. My heart picks up speed and I open my clutch, digging for my meds. I need to get out. I need out of this space, off this ship. I need fresh air and wide, open space, and I need it fast.

"Were you able to get a hold of him, Miss Banks?" Heidi asks when I exit Tanner's office.

"No. No, I wasn't." I grip my forehead as I struggle to find the pills.

"Miss Banks?" Heidi rises from the reception desk, her brow pinched in concern. "You're looking very pale, are you feeling okay?"

My shaky hands give up finding the pill bottle. I focus on her face, working hard to ignore the swaying motion. "I'll be fine, thank you. I'm just feeling a bit seasick. Have a good night." I dart for the exit and she calls after me, but my mind is dead set on inhaling that fresh air, and if I don't find a railing to grab on to soon, I'm afraid I'll pass out.

Gripping my cell phone with trembling fingers, I attempt to call Lana, but I can't focus long enough on the screen to scroll to her name. I'm too dizzy, and the panic is racing up my chest, looking for a way out. I hurry out of the hall and onto the deck, and am blown back a step by a blast of wind and rain. A light spray sheaths me and I stumble forward, putting my arms up to shield myself. People hurry past me in evening wear, anxious to duck inside. I'd love to join them, but inside is the last place I want to be right now.

My body reins me backward, aligning me with the ship wall. My heels clack on the deck, my palms landing flat against the wall. I grip it for dear life, thanking every angel in heaven when I spot the wooden bench to my right. It's wet with moisture, and now I'm freezing from the wind and spray that continuously beat at the deck, but I need to sit, and I need to breathe. The ship's rocking is a bit more tolerable out here, although the rain isn't helping to soothe my nerves. More people scurry by, yapping about the crappy weather and how they wish they would've paid more attention to the weather report this morning.

Now that I have a firm place to plant myself, I force my uneasy hands back to my phone and scroll for Lana's name. I have to squint to see the screen, but I'm able to just make it out. I quickly dial and wipe the droplets of water that are dripping down the bridge of my nose. They're gathering above my top lip, saturating my skin and chilling me to the bone. I won't be able to stay out here long.

I wait as the line rings, taking the opportunity to dig through my clutch again for my pills. I curse when I realize why I can't find them. I failed to transfer them to my evening clutch. "Come on, Lan, pick up." The line rings two more times, then goes to voicemail. I pass on leaving a message, opting to buck up and head back to the room as soon as I get my breathing under control. My head lifts and my gaze focuses straight ahead, over the deck railing. There's nothing but darkness, the crashing of waves. Every few seconds, the ship shifts and rocks, shifts and rocks, until I can no longer focus on the black horizon before me. My lungs, stomach, and mind can tolerate no more.

Rising to my feet, I start for the door on the left, but my gaze is still drawn to the blackness over the railing, calling to me like a beacon. I can't look away, even though my brain shoots darts of fire in my chest, warning me to duck inside and get the hell out of Dodge. This is nothing like the calm serenity I confronted on Alvita. Swimming in that was easy, nothing compared to what's facing me right now.

Against all common sense, my feet move to pivot my waist, turning me around, away from the door, across the wide deck space, and toward the ship railing. My body is possessed, and my mind is at battle. Something keeps pushing me forward. I need to see the water. I need to step up to the railing. If Zoe was strong enough to survive the current, and I was crazy enough to go in after her, then I should be brave enough to face the ocean regardless of its mood.

If we all face the ocean only when it's calm, how will we know what we're capable of when that serenity is disrupted?

This question keeps me inching closer and closer, until I find myself face to face with the bleak horizon, my hands gripping the railing just as tightly—if not tighter—as the night I'd bumped into Tanner while he was jogging. My chest tightens, too, and I force my eyes wide, disciplining my mind to absorb the sight before me. "There's nothing to fear," I whisper to myself, staring down at the black, churning waves, "nothing can hurt you. You're perfectly safe. You're safe."

"Anya!"

I flinch at the sound of my name, but don't dare loosen my grip on the rail or allow my concentration to break. I repeat the same mantra over and over, keeping my eyes glued on the ocean. I can do this. I must do this.

"Anya, hey!" Tanner's voice floats through the whipping wind again, but this time, it's closer. I'm swimming in disorientation, my perception is still off kilter, but I can feel his presence, can sense him gaining ground. In seconds, his hand is wrapped around my elbow, and he's stepping in front of me, breaking my view of the ocean.

"Don't," I mumble, refusing to avert my eyes.

He slips an arm around my back and moves closer. "Heidi called me. What the hell are you doing out here? It's pouring. Goddamn it, Anya, are you trying to jump?"

My eyes flip up to meet his, and I'm stunned on the spot, then insulted. "What?"

"Are you trying to jump?"

"Why the hell would I jump?" I stutter as I push the words out, my lips shaking from the cold.

"I don't know, you look...shit, are you okay? You're trembling, baby. Come on, let's get you inside." He starts to move, bracing his arm firmly around my back to guide me away, but I dig my heels in, refusing to budge.

"I'm not trying to kill myself, Tanner."

"Then would you mind telling me what you're doing out here, shaking and soaking wet, gripping this rail like it's a lifeline?"

"It is," I murmur, eyeing my knuckles. "It is a lifeline. I need to do this."

"Do what? Anya, you're scaring me, baby. Please, come inside. We need to warm you up."

"That swim on the beach? Back at your place? That was nothing. I just need a moment. Please, just give me a moment." My eyes water and my legs shake harder when the ship sways hard to the left, rocking us both back. A small cry bubbles up and Tanner jumps into action, bending slightly at his knees to scoop me up. I collapse into his arms and allow my head to fall against his chest, encircling my hands around his neck as I let the tears mix with the rain water against his skin.

"Screw this," he mumbles, "we're going inside. Do not argue with me, Miss Banks."

I break, my chest caving in from the pressure, and my eyes close, shutting out the storm. It can't put out the one raging inside of me, but it gives me temporary relief. Tanner moves quickly, half jogging as he carries me inside. Whispers erupt around us as he squeezes through clusters of people. I hear the ding of an elevator and more whispers, and the silence spills, only the sound of Tanner's labored breathing filling the space. His wet chest rises and falls against me.

"Anya?" he breathes, brushing a kiss over my temple. "Stay with me, baby."

I don't respond, just let him carry me out of the elevator and into his cabin. He walks us straight to the bedroom and gently sets me down on the edge of the bed, crouching down to pull off my heels. Next he peels off my dress and panties, until I'm bare before him. He shrouds me in a large, white towel and carefully lays me down on the bed, making quick work of his suit jacket and shirt. He kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed with me, bringing me straight to his chest.

"You're safe, Anya. Safe. Tell me what you need. What can I do for you?"

"Just hold me." My teeth chatter. "I need my medicine. It's back in my room. I couldn't get a hold of Lana."

"Your medicine? What kind?"

"Xanax, for my panic attacks."

"I'll go get it. Breathe deeply. I'll be right back." He hurries off the bed and places my cell phone in my hand. "You call me the second you need me, understand?"

I shake my head and he snatches my room key from my clutch, then disappears. I roll over on my side and grab onto the pillows, watching the clock tick on the wall. The longer I focus, the calmer I become. Even though I'm watching the clock, I'm not sure how much time passes. I'm not paying attention to the numbers on the clock, only the long and short hands as they shift. My mind still registers the sway of the ship as it rocks me in Tanner's bed, but my body is no longer alarmed.

At some point, Tanner returns, my prescription in hand. "Lana wasn't in the room. She left a note for you. She and Brie decided to ditch girls' night in and go to a party on Deck 10." He undresses again and hands me a glass of water along with the pills. I sit up and swallow one, sighing in relief when I feel it slip down my throat.

It's then that I look up at him.

His eyes are wide, jaw tight. I haven't seen him this concerned about...well, anything. He waits for me to set the glass down, then climbs back into bed with me, opening his arms to welcome me. I accept and snuggle against him, nuzzling my nose into his neck.

"Feel better yet?" he asks quietly.

"It takes a few minutes."

"How long have you been taking the meds?"

"Since the accident. Not every day, just as needed."

"What else can I do to make you feel better?"

"Just this." I squeeze him, wrapping my arms tightly.

"You're beautiful in the rain."

I giggle softly into his skin. "What?" When I look up at him, he's staring at the ceiling.

"When I saw you standing there in the rain, my first reaction was fear—fear for you. I knew something was wrong. But then when I saw you up close," he glances down with a sad smile, "all I could think was fuck me, she's beautiful in the rain."

"It seemed to me you were thinking about getting me out of the rain." I reach up and stroke along the line of his jaw.

"That was just the adrenaline. My brain was on autopilot. But my heart—" He stops and wiggles a bit, his Adam's Apple bobbing. "Despite your stubbornness back there, I must say I admire your tenacity, Miss Banks."

"I'm just so tired of it owning me," I sigh. "I want to own it, just as you've learned to. That was my whole reason for coming aboard this ship. Work was just a guise. Lana knew it, too. It's why she fought so hard to get me on this cruise. So when the fear started to shut me down, when I felt that panic...I just wanted to tell it to fuck off."

Tanner's white teeth flash and his body shakes. "Such strong language from such a sophisticated, eloquent woman, Miss Banks."

"Sophisticated, eloquent women find that language very useful in times of duress, Mr. Christensen." A small smile twists my lips, and I feel the medicine begin to take hold, slowly unraveling the panic from my bones. It will still be another ten minutes or so before I begin to feel its full effect, but I've been taking it long enough to recognize its initial, soothing quality.

A few moments of silence pass. We lie there, watching the ceiling fan spin above us.

"You say you want to own it," Tanner begins, "but I believe you already do."

"Maybe," I say wistfully, "but it doesn't feel like it. Not yet."

His voice turns solemn. "You'll know when you do."

"Tanner?" My chest muscles begin to relax, and my eyes start to drift close. "Thank you."

"It's my pleasure, Miss Banks."

As I float off into a sleepy haze, Tanner's phone rings and I feel him shift beneath me, feel his warmth disappear. I curl into the pillows and pull my body against the sheets as he slips out of bed, and then I'm gone.

TEN

A pounding headache awakens me, and I find myself alone in Tanner's bed. His cabin is quiet, the bedroom door wide open. I blink and find the alarm clock on the left. It's nearly noon. I crawl out of bed and opt for a long, hot shower, then pull on my dress from the night before, which Tanner carefully hung on a wooden hanger to dry. I take the opportunity to raid his fridge for a late breakfast of fresh fruit. Once I have some tea and my stomach is satisfied, I head out of the cabin, calling Lana as I step into the elevator.

"You had me worried sick," she says the moment she picks up.

"Good morning."

"It's noon. Are you alright? Tanner was frantic last night on the phone. I called him after you passed out. I'm so sorry I missed your call."

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Really, Lan. It's okay."

"I calmed down once I learned he was with you, but holy shit, An, you really gave me a scare. I know the weather was kind of nasty last night. I should have called you to check on you. Brie and I decided to go out after all, and we just got carried away. I feel awful!"

"Lana, will you stop? You can't babysit me. I'm okay now."

"You're sure?"

"Yes, positive. Tanner ran back to our room and found my meds. I'm just leaving his place now. Where are you?"

"I'm hanging by the pool on Deck 10, getting some work done. Hey, I'm researching his father right now. Did you know he died in some tragic car accident?"

The elevator doors open, but I don't move.

"No, I didn't. Tanner mentioned his father passed away, but he didn't tell me much else."

"It's strange, I can't seem to find any comments from Tanner or his mother. They've been pretty tight lipped about the whole thing, apparently."

"Hhhmm," I murmur, stepping out into the hall. "They probably wanted some privacy to deal with the grief."

"Yeah, that makes sense." I hear the tapping of fingers on a keyboard. "I also found out Tanner will be joining forces with Simmons International, a competitor cruise liner. Some merger deal, or something. They might be changing the name of the Trident Voyager."

"Oh, really? His secretary said something last night about a merger. And I saw some notes on his desk about it."

"Anya Banks, you were snooping!"

"I was not! I was just organizing his desk again. The man is so damn unorganized, it makes me crazy. I don't know how he functions in that office of his."

Lana laughs. "Okay, well, I'll see you in a bit. I have to get these notes done and do a little more digging so you have plenty to work with. I spoke to Ted, and it's official—the review is definitely yours. He was quite thrilled that Tanner Christensen himself called to recommend you for the feature."

I smile. "Well, okay, but don't worry about doing too much research. It's a review, not an informative piece. You know the drill."

"I know, I know, but maybe some of this dirt will give you ideas for an angle. I've been partying all week, I need to do some work to justify my ass being on this ship." She giggles and sighs. "Come find me when you're ready."

"Will do. Thanks, Lan." We hang up and I start for Tanner's office. I want to thank him again for last night and wish him a good day before I meet up with Lana. I begin composing him a text to let him know I'm on my way.

I reach his office and Heidi is there, once again typing away, her fingers flying so quickly over the keyboard, it makes my head spin. Her eyes are wide and the phone is ringing off the hook. She glances up at me and holds up a finger, answering the line. Tanner's office doors are closed, and I hear a low rumbling from behind them, then a loud crash. I jump, glancing curiously at Heidi. She hangs up and drops her head in her hands.

"Hey, Miss Banks, what can I do for you?" She lifts a bottle of aspirin from the desk and flinches when the phone rings again. "You look like you're feeling better today."

"Thanks. You look...stressed." Another loud crash sounds from Tanner's office and we both glance toward the doors. "Is everything okay?"

"Define okay." She pops an aspirin and chases it down with some water.

"Um...I was wondering if I could have a second with Tanner."

"Enter at your own risk. He's on the warpath today. He might just lob my head off if I send you in there, but he seems fond of you, so I'm willing to take the risk. Maybe you can calm him down." She waves me away frantically, urging me on, and I hesitantly start for the door, not bothering to knock. I stand there for a moment and listen. With a deep breath, I step inside.

And my jaw drops.

There's glass everywhere—surrounding his desk, in the middle of the room, and in the corner, in heaps near the wall. Broken pieces of what look like picture frames are scattered with the glass, and upon closer inspection, I see photos and what look like awards of some sort.

"Tanner?" I gasp, closing the door behind me.

He's pacing in front of the office windows, pulling at his hair. He spins when he hears me, chest heaving. "What are you doing here, Miss Banks?"

"I—I came to thank you again for last night. I...Tanner, what's going on?"

"It's no business of yours. Please, Anya, now isn't a good time."

"You're bleeding," I say, moving forward when I spot smeared crimson on his knuckles.

"I'm fine," he huffs, turning away.

I don't let him deter me. I grab his hand and inspect it, glancing around for a box of tissues. I spot and pluck one up from the corner of the desk and begin to dab at the blood. "Hold still a minute." I press the tissue firmly against him and walk to the bottom left desk drawer.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Getting the first aid kit."

"What first aid kit?"

"The one you didn't know you had. I stored it in this drawer when I cleaned your desk last night."

His nostrils flare. "About that. You have to stop doing that."

"I was only trying to help."

"Well, you've made a mess of things. I can't find a single number I need."

I retrieve the first aid kit and pause to peel a yellow sticky note from his forearm. It's stuck to the bottom of the suit jacket sleeve. I smile and hand it to him, but that seems to only upset him more. He slams it onto the desktop.

"All of your numbers are right there, next to the phone." I nod to an arrangement of notes, but he doesn't follow my gaze.

"Miss Banks, this isn't necessary." He pulls the tissue from his knuckle, knots it up and tosses it in the trash can. "Thank you for stopping by, but I'm busy at the moment."

"I'll leave you be as soon as you're cleaned up. Do not argue with me, Mr. Christensen." My gaze floats up and locks on his. The exchange is brief. I tear open an alcohol wipe and rub his knuckle, blowing on the skin to soothe the sting. He flinches. I feel his eyes on me, but I keep working. Next comes the ointment and bandages, and he remains quiet, allowing me to play nurse. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?" I discard the bandage wrappers and then step closer, lowering a hand to brush over his groin, stroking softly. His eyes burn and his hands move to cup my ass, pulling me tighter against him.

His voice is gravelly. "You know how to speak my language, Miss Banks."

I playfully give him a push back, guiding him to his desk chair, and he lets himself fall into it, his intense gaze following my every move. I slowly stroll toward him and begin pulling the straps of my dress down my shoulders, wedging myself between his legs. He splays them wide, letting me wiggle my way in, and begins stroking himself over his pants.

"I believe it's my turn to take care of you," I say, smirking coyly. I start to lower my body, bringing my knees to the floor. He groans at the sight but doesn't let me stay there long. I'm swiftly brought back to my feet and picked up, then set on the edge of the desk.

"You'll cut your knees," he says huskily. "Glass everywhere." He switches places with me, positioning his waist between my legs, and then bends to bring his mouth down on mine. This kiss is ferocious. Starved and 100 percent desperate. Somewhere, a spring in him snaps and he's tearing at my dress as if he can't get to my skin fast enough. His hands cover my bare breasts and squeeze hard, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip. "Let me please you, Miss Banks."

"I want to please you." I bite him back, thrusting my hips up to search for the friction. His wild, piercing sapphire eyes find me and he lifts me again, wrapping me around his waist. He turns us and stumbles over to the porthole window on the left, which is placed at an angle next to the main window. My back hits the glass and he moans, freeing his cock and yanking my panties and dress down my legs.

"You do please me. Every damn time." He grabs himself and presses against my entrance, palm smacking flat against the porthole window. "Let me in, baby."

I sigh in pure pleasure as I lower myself and take him. His fingers glide against the sides of my ass as he holds me against the window, and his mouth covers mine, devouring me. A collective moan escapes us at the contact, and then Tanner's thighs are flexing against me, his heart pounding against my chest.

He smashes into me, thrusting up and pushing full tilt with each charge. My fingers dig into his shoulders and I watch through my dizzy haze as a wave of sweat breaks out across his forehead. He's driving into me so hard, so fast, he just might break us both. I welcome the speed, encourage the rhythm, knowing he needs the aggression right now. Whatever was going on in this office when I showed up, he's working it out now, in body, soul, and mind. Each stretch of his abdomen, each jolt of his groin is an expression, his body telling my body something. A story I've yet to uncover, a passion I've only known in one dimension.

A work of art.

I drop my chin and nip at his shoulder, resting my cheek against him, reveling in his power. His hand glides up and cradles the back of my head, tugging at the roots of my skull as he smacks his skin against mine, chest tensing with every sharp shot.

"Did he touch you?" he grunts against my neck.

"What?" My voice shakes and my chin bumps his shoulder.

"Did you let him touch you last night?"

"No, I told you I wouldn't."

"You kept your word."

"Yes."

"Good. Now come for me. Loudly. I want the whole fucking ship to hear." He strikes me hard and I cry out, feeling the release build, the buzzing between my thighs flare and burn. We crash against one another, cracking each other open from the inside out, and I scream, my head falling back against the glass. Tanner pumps relentlessly, even as I float down, even as my shouts fade. He finally breaks, finally rolls to a stop, breathing hard into my hair. My entire body collapses and melts against the porthole, and he slumps forward, pinning me to it.

"I never wanted to own this ship," he pants. "I never wanted this."

I struggle to catch my breath. I can't process what he's saying. I'm too stunned. "You...you what?"

"I hated my father. He was a lying, cheating bastard, and he cared for no one but himself. It wasn't until he blew all his money that he realized he'd been a shit husband and a shit father. That's when he tried to make amends. He started donating things, tried pleasing my mother. But there was no pleasing her. Not after all he'd done to her."

Our hearts beat against one another as I watch him, my skin sticking to his. "Then why do you own it?"

"When he died, I wanted to make it up to my mother somehow. Wanted to make her happy."

"And you thought taking over your father's ship would do that?"

"It was because of my mother and her money that my father ever succeeded. She was the one who gave him his start years ago, when they first fell in love. She's the reason his business ever left the ground. She gave him everything. I know she's an unhappy woman. She's not easily tolerable. But I understand where it all comes from. I understand why she is the way she is."

"It doesn't excuse her behavior toward you," I say quietly. Or toward your guests.

"Of course not. But the truth remains: my father betrayed her. I owe it to her to turn this ship around, to turn this business around, to restore it somehow. She goes on and on about his legacy, how it's our responsibility to protect it, but it's really what he did to her legacy that upsets her. She wants to salvage it, but she's become just as obsessed with it as my father was. She's asking me to do things...telling me to do things that I just can't do."

"What is she asking you to do?"

He pulls back, letting me slide down from the glass, peering down at the floor to help me plant my feet on the carpet. "Never mind. It's nothing."

"It's obviously something."

"It doesn't matter. I still chose this. This is on me."

"Is that what this is all about?" I gesture to the broken picture frames and awards around us. "Where did this all come from? The bedside tables at your beach house?"

Tanner zips up and his gaze jumps to mine. "What about the bedside tables?"

"The pictures—all the pictures. I found them in the drawers when I was searching for sunscreen."

"Why were you rummaging through those drawers?"

"I just told you, I needed sunscreen. Are these the same ones?" I point to a small silver frame near our feet.

"No. These were stashed in my office closet."

"Why do you keep them hidden? They're such nice photographs."

"I don't want reminders of my father around, Miss Banks. You must have gathered by now that he's a sore subject for me."

"Of course, but...I thought you loved taking his place. You're so proud of this ship. You seem to love your position here. You're rich, you're powerful, you play. I don't understand. Your father is a big part of that."

"My father was a phony. He deceived his family, his co-workers, those he claimed to love. He pretended to be a family man. He was no family man. He was screwing his secretary on the weekends and he blew all of our money traveling the world, on hookers and drugs. There was nothing honorable about his legacy, other than he knew how to provide excellent guest service."

"That's how you and your father are alike."

"Were," he corrects, leaning down to pick up a piece of a frame. I'm still leaning there, naked, against the porthole window in nothing but my heels, completely enraptured in what this man's telling me. I suddenly see a glimpse of Tanner Christensen, the man, not just the businessman, and my heart races a little faster with the discovery.

"He appreciated fine service. I appreciate fine service. He loved the sea, I love the sea. That's it, nothing more."

I swallow, and the word vomit creeps up again. I simply can't help myself. He walked right into this one. "Your father played."

Tanner's fingers tighten around the broken piece of frame, and he glares at me. "What?"

"Like you. All the women, no commitment." I push off of the window and take a hesitant step toward him. "Is that why you hate him so much, because you're so alike?"

He drops the frame back to the floor and snatches up my clothes, quickly handing them to me. "I just told you, Miss Banks, I am nothing like my father."

"But you just said—"

"My father was a cheater. He lied to my mother and hurt her in ways I cannot even begin to imagine. I have never cheated on a woman. I outline my intentions—sexually and otherwise—with women right from the get-go. I don't engage in relationships, and I make that crystal clear."

"And I take it that's why you don't see marriage in your future? Why you aren't interested in anything other than casual sex?" I begin to slip my dress on, watching as he begins pushing papers around on his desk, cursing beneath his breath. "Because you think you'll hurt a woman the way your father hurt your mother? That you're not capable of a commitment?"

Tanner explodes, knocking everything off his desk with one wide, strong swoop of his arm. Papers and pens go flying, landing everywhere. My fingers still on my head as I smooth down my hair, and it dawns on me that it's time to go. He's hit his limit, and I've just stumbled onto a landmine.

"What is this, a fucking psychoanalysis?"

I wince. My voice is quiet. Cautious. "You're worlds away from the man he was, Tanner."

His head snaps toward me and he freezes me with an icy glare. "You didn't know my father."

"But I've gotten to know you, and I can tell the man standing before me is not that man in that photograph." My finger lifts, pointing to the frame at my feet. "You're straightforward and honest. You might be a playboy, but you're a genuine one. You don't pretend to be something you're not. And if you ever decided to settle down with a woman someday, I don't doubt that you'd do so with respect and loyalty. You wouldn't commit unless you absolutely wanted to and believed you were capable of it."

"Why would you think something like that about me, Miss Banks?" He laughs darkly and his eyes roll upward, to the ceiling. "You have no idea how truly ignoble of a man I am."

"Why would I think that?" I walk toward him and gently rest my hand on his shoulder. "Because it's so blatantly obvious that you want to be everything he wasn't."

Tanner's gaze falls. He stares down at the desktop.

"And for the record," I pick up my clutch and start for the door, "there's no shame in sharing similar qualities with him. Believe me, there's always some good along with the bad. You just have to choose what you'll let in."

When I reach the office door, I don't look back, just step out and close it quietly behind me. Heidi is still busy juggling phone lines, looking just as frazzled as she did when I first arrived. I send her a small, thankful little wave as I pass by, and she returns the gesture half-heartedly. I don't envy her position, and I certainly don't envy the mess she must be cleaning up right now, whatever it is.

My stomach churns and my heart sinks as I step into the elevator. Something has just blown wide open between Tanner and me, and I'm not sure I want to stick around much longer. I'm not sure I want to risk stepping on another landmine.

Suddenly, this cruise can't end quickly enough.

***

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Slow your roll. Start from the beginning." Lana crunches potato chips as she sits up on her lounge chair attentively. I start from scratch, telling her about everything that happened back at Tanner's office. Once I think I cover all the bases, she exhales loudly. "I still don't understand why you think this means you have to give up the remainder of your fling."

"It's not that I have to, Lan. It's that I want to. It just makes sense to end it now. The cruise is almost over, anyway. We had our fun, it's time to move on. He doesn't want me involved in his personal business."

Lana sets down her bag of chips and rises from the lounge chair. She moves across to mine and bumps my hip, motioning for me to scoot over so she can sit. She lifts her shades to look at me. "So, he's got some baggage. You do, too. You both saw glimpses of each other's shit. So, what? If this whole thing is just sex, then what does any of that have to do with anything? He already went and involved you by telling you all of this. Anya?" She moves so I have to look her straight in the eyes. "Talk to me."

"I don't know, now I just feel...conflicted."

"Conflicted."

"Yes, Lan, conflicted."

"You feel."

"Yes."

"Well, there ya have it, that's your problem."

"What is?"

"You're invested now. You have feelings for him. It happens."

"No." I stand. I begin wringing my hands. "Feelings are not a part of our arrangement. They're not allowed."

Lana smirks. "Oh, An. Says who? You have to tell him."

"Tell him what?"

"Tell him you're into him. Trust me, judging by the way he looks at you, he wants more, too. And you said it yourself—the man doesn't typically do repeats. He's been repeating you all week long. Maybe you can keep seeing each other when the trip is over."

"But I don't want more. This whole thing was supposed to be fun, remember? No strings attached. Complete freedom to get me out of my funk. To get me on this boat and force me to face my fears. What happens on the Trident Voyager needs to stay on the Trident Voyager."

"You of all people know that sometimes things don't go as planned. A part of freedom is recognizing when to roll with the punches, to go with the flow when things change directions. Call him. Or I will."

"Lana, I swear on all of your favorite foods in the world, if you meddle, I will—"

"Hey!" She jumps up and wags her finger in my face. "Don't you bring food into this. That's fighting dirty."

"Don't call him."

"Fine," she snaps, crossing her arms petulantly. "But don't do something you'll regret."

"I'll text him and ask to meet for dinner. I'll feel him out. Will that pacify you?" I swipe my phone from my bag and stare at the screen. I have no idea what to say after everything that just unfolded back at his office. The unease in my stomach swirls. There's no room here for emotional investment. No room for feelings. Our arrangement was completely clear.

But that was before.

Before I discovered that his hands set me on fire.

Before I discovered how considerate, protective, and attentive he can be.

Before I fell for his bossy, playful demeanor.

Before I fell.

Shit.

"What?" Lana asks, eyes wide. "I know that look."

"Nothing," I mumble, grabbing my bag and starting for the deck stairwell. "I gotta run. I'll see you back at the room later."

"Oh, just admit it!" she shouts after me. "You want more!"

I race away from the pool and up the stairwell, ducking inside the hall to catch the first elevator. I can't sit around and listen to Lana, or my brain will start to hurt. I'm already confused, and there's a dull ache in the pit of my stomach that won't seem to let up. Small pangs of irritation strike, and all I want to do is retreat to our cabin and crawl under the covers. Tanner has made it perfectly clear that he's not interested in anything with me after these twelve days. My days of being his goddess are coming to an end, and he will no longer be mine.

I better start getting used to it.

My phone blips when I reach our cabin, alerting me to a text from Tanner.

Miss Banks, I'm sorry for my temper earlier. I was very rude. Meet me tonight, please. My place. Sunset.

I open the door, slumping back against it as soon as it closes behind me. I stare at the phone. Seconds pass before I decide to respond.

Okay. I'll be there.

My eyes close and I groan, then push myself off the door and head straight for the bed, where I fall face first and collapse into a troubled rest.

***

My phone's chime awakens me, and my eyes drift open, landing on the cabin's porthole window. A dreamy, orange haze is cast over the ocean, and I register the time of day. I sit up in a daze, fumbling around for my phone. Did I really fall asleep? How did I sleep for so long? It's nearly sundown. I locate my phone and find a new text from Tanner.

Are you still coming?

I rub my eyes and yawn, swinging my legs off the side of the bed.

Yes. Took a nap. On my way now.

It takes me only a few minutes to wash up and bring some color back to my cheeks. My nerves are strung tightly as I make my way to Tanner's place, and I realize that while my nap might have shut my brain down for a little while, it did nothing to resolve the uncertainty that's been tumbling around since I left Tanner's office earlier.

When I arrive at his cabin, I quietly let myself in, assuming he'll be waiting for me in the bedroom. Maybe he has more aggression to work out of his system. Maybe he wants to play gentle, dominant lover and spoil my body rotten the way he did the first night I slept with him. Whatever he's in the mood for, I know he will show me with his body just what he's feeling, and right now, I want to give him whatever he needs. This might very well be the last time I have my hands on him, and I want to make it count.

I find him there, stationed in front of the living room windows, his back to me. His hands are in his pockets, feet splayed wide and body steeled as if he needs to root himself to the ground. As if anything could move him. He's an anchor, unyielding and strong—strong as the pounding in my chest when I lay eyes on him. His blonde hair rustles as his fingers comb it, and his head shifts to the right, chin tilting down, the movement so feather light I almost miss it. All I catch is a single flash of the deep cerulean of his gaze, a glimpse of his appraisal of the ocean view before him, and the hard edge of his jaw, golden skin glinting under the late afternoon sun. It's raining in on him, penetrating the entire room.

But that single glance is enough.

It tells me he doesn't just love the ocean, he owns it. Tanner Christensen, Poseidon. King with his trident.

God of the sea.

"I'm glad you came," he says quietly.

"I'm a woman of my word."

"Yes. Yes, you are."

I don't move.

"I hope you'll accept my apology for earlier, Miss Banks."

"Anya."

"Anya."

"You were upset. I understand."

"Do you?" He turns, lifting his chin.

"Yes." I take a step forward. "What would you like to do to me now that I'm here?"

A surprised smirk lightens his face. "I believe I've turned you into quite the vixen."

"Don't flatter yourself, Tanner."

"But I'm so good at it."

"Yes, you are."

"In the very least, I hope our arrangement has made you braver. Bolder. So you can tell the next man exactly how to please you." He matches my step forward, inching closer. "You will no longer settle for boys, Miss Banks. Promise me that."

"You're really too in love with yourself."

"Would you want me any other way?"

"No." My eyes burn. My God, the man is so fucking gorgeous, standing there in the glazed, golden sunlight. If he ever decides to commit to a woman someday, she will truly be one lucky, envied girl. "I like you the way you are."

"Come here." He stands still, holding my gaze with smoldering, heated irises. I walk toward him, stopping when the tips of my shoes meet his. I lift my chin, expecting his mouth to tilt down and touch mine, but he simply drops his head and presses his cheek to mine, speaking softly against my ear. "Our twelve days are almost up."

"I know."

"Have I satisfied you?"

"Immensely." I exhale, leaning into his cheek. "I am wondering something."

"Oh?" His jaw muscles lock up against my skin, and I pull back to peer up at him.

"Maybe we should call it quits. Now, I mean. Before we dock on Saturday."

A peculiar flash of panic strikes his handsome face. "Why do you suggest that?"

"Because of what happened earlier," I say carefully, lifting a hand to rest on his forearm. "I'm afraid we've crossed some sort of line."

"What do you mean?"

"You've involved me in your business. And you're right, it's not mine, it's yours. I think we've been fooling ourselves, thinking I can interview you and fuck you at the same time—that the combination won't complicate things."

"We had an arrangement."

"Yes, we did."

"I think it's been working just fine."

"Well, after our discussion earlier, I...I'm not sure I feel the same."

Tanner steps back to study me. "Have I really offended you so deeply, Miss Banks? I apologized for my behavior earlier. What more can I do?"

"No," I reach for his hand, "it's not that."

"Please clarify it for me, then. Because I'm not sure I understand you." His gaze is hard and cautious, shoulders suddenly tense. Lana's words come rushing at me, and I want to swallow them down, want to shove them somewhere where they cannot escape, but they tickle my tongue and I find myself giving in to their teasing.

"I'm beginning to feel invested."

"Invested," he repeats, still studying me.

"Yes, invested."

My words seem to sink in and realization settles over his face, his eyes widening slightly as the implication takes root. "I see."

"I've had a fantastic time with you, Tanner." My hand rises, cupping his cheek, and I lean up to plant a soft kiss on his lips. I breathe against them, absorbing the heat of his torso, brushing gently against him. "Take me to your bedroom," I whisper. "One last time?"

His hands move to my hips and I feel him harden against me. "It doesn't have to be the last time."

"It doesn't, but it should be."

"You're sure you want to cut this short?" His lashes fan down and he watches me carefully.

"I think it's best."

He eyes me for a moment more and then swiftly lifts me up. His mouth hits my throat and he carries me into the bedroom, granting my wish. As he lays me down onto the bed, playing the gentle, dominant lover I imagined, I memorize each angle of his face, the dips of his hips and the ways his hands turn my skin to embers. I study every line on his abdomen, each inch of definition along his shoulders and neck. I want to remember him just like this, hovering over me. I want to remember him, Tanner Christensen, God of the sea, and me just like this, beneath him and at his mercy. His goddess, his plaything.

His lover.

ELEVEN

"Why don't you go say goodbye to him?" Lana asks, placing the last of her belongings in her purse, while Brie sits on the bed next to her, watching me with bated breath.

She agrees, piping in with a desperation that almost makes me second guess myself and my decision to cut my arrangement with Tanner short. "Yeah, Anya, why not? It can't hurt to just swing by his office and say goodbye before we leave. It sounds like you two had something really good going."

I ignore their inquisition and walk toward the cabin door, ready to get off this ship. Over the past twelve days, I've had girl time, me time, time to face the accident that threatened to steal a part of me, and time to experiment sexually with a man who turned out to be more than just a fling. Tanner Christensen was a seasoned, passionate businessman—even if he did hate the reason for resuming ownership of the Trident Voyager—and a dedicated, confident man with a sense of humor and laughable organizational skills.

His fierce, dominant personality and playful nature sneaked in through the cracks of my rigid walls during the past twelve days, reminding me there is, in fact, life after accidents, unfortunate tragedies, and inept, stupid boyfriends. Over the course of this cruise, my eyes have not only been opened to these truths, but I've also been enlightened by the fact that what he insisted I learn is indeed right. I do deserve a man, and I am definitely selling myself short by settling for a boy who is simply considerate.

When I return home, there will be no more Jeremiahs. No more wasting time, no more games. Only straightforward, rewarding, satisfying relationships that are fair and honest from the get-go. To settle for anything less would be to take a giant leap backward. I might even get in touch with Jonah, although the ball is really in his court, not mine.

"Some things are better left alone, girls," I say, fishing my room key from my pocket. "It was fun while it lasted. You have your key, Lan?"

"Yeah," Lana sighs, looking around the cabin wistfully. Brie stands to join her and they both burst out into faux hysterics, latching onto one another. They hug and blubber, and I laugh to myself at their dramatics.

"You guys, we live like a few hours away from one another. We'll see each other all the time." I couldn't be more grateful that Brie lives in Fort Lauderdale. She's really become a good friend to Lana, and I love seeing how well they hit it off. The two of them together makes me smile, and things would just feel incomplete without the new trio Brie has cemented.

"I know," Brie cries, "but the end of a girl vacation is just so sad!"

"Let's do another one," Lana insists, pulling back to squeeze Brie's shoulders. She looks to me for support, and I smile warmly, nodding my head.

"Yes!" Brie jumps and claps. "Another cruise. And next time, no guy drama." She eyes me and I raise my hands innocently. "Just quality girl time, and nothing else."

"Um, aren't you forgetting something?" My brows rise.

Lana pinches her shoulder. "Hello? Carbs, woman! Carbs!"

"God, you guys," Brie's nose scrunches and she rubs at her shoulder, "I didn't mean to leave out the most essential part of our friendship. Food is like the holy Mecca of our bond! You need to learn to not take things so literally. Sheesh!"

"We'll miss you, Bree-Bree," Lana pouts and wraps her into another big hug.

Bree-Bree? Oh, dear God. Where does Lana come up with this shit?

I watch them squeeze the breath out of each other and find myself suddenly caught up in their mushy display. I scuttle forward and body slam them, joining in the group hug, throwing my arms around them and pressing my cheek against Lana's back.

"Awww, you guys," I laugh, squeezing them tightly. "Don't make me cry ugly, now."

We all sigh and release one another, ready to head out the door. Brie and Lana jabber on about the highlights of the cruise as I lead the way off the ship, pushing the lingering thoughts of Tanner to the deepest recesses of my brain. I know it's over, but I can't help but wonder if the girls are right. If I should go and say one last goodbye to the man I believe I owe some sort of thanks to, for waking me up, helping me to see things from a different perspective.

I decide the gesture would be overkill, especially since I've already admitted to him and to myself that sometime during the past twelve days, I've become emotionally invested. I don't want to make matters any worse.

Once my resolve hardens, I turn my focus to work. "I can't wait to write this review, Lan," I say as we disembark. Port Canaveral awaits us, sunny and warm as usual, and I can't help but glance back a few times at the beautiful Trident Voyager, wanting to commit the image of its vast majesty to memory. Now, every time I look at it, I see Tanner's silhouette. Strong and sleek, confident and overbearing, just like his words and mouth in bed. Just like the way his hands direct my body, telling me exactly how to please him, and how to best please myself.

"Ted wants it by Wednesday," Lana replies, trading her debarkation tag for her suitcase at the bottom of the gangplank. When we reach the terminal, it feels as if the very essence of everything we experienced aboard has been left behind. Here we go, back to the real world, where sexy, cruise-ship-owning billionaires with skilled tongues no longer exist, where passionate nights of wild abandon in penthouse cabins are no longer a part of a girl's daily routine.

How sad.

"Do you think he'll give me an extension until Friday? There are still a few things I want to jot down to make sure the piece is solid."

"I don't know, you know how Ted can be. He's a stickler with deadlines. Let's feel him out tomorrow and see where he stands. Just try to have the first draft to me by tomorrow at midnight. The story is on the schedule for next month's edition, so he'll likely hold you to that Wednesday midnight deadline."

"Okay, well, I'll make it work, then."

Lana slips an arm around my shoulder. "I'm telling you, An. Impress him with this piece, and you're guaranteed to move on up. You already have the odds in your favor. The minute Tanner Christensen called him directly to put in a good word for you, Ted was smitten with the idea of bumping you up. I won't be surprised in the least if he promotes you in the fall."

Not wanting to get my hopes up, I quickly change the subject. "Are you planning to see Carlos again?" I know she hooked up with him during the cruise, but she's been pretty quiet about the whole thing. I haven't pushed her for information, and knowing Lana, it was probably nothing but a fling, anyway.

"Nah, he's old news." She grins like a smart-ass and feeds me my own words. "It was fun while it lasted."

We reach the parking lot and say our final goodbyes to Brie, then go our separate ways. Lana drops me off at my apartment and continues home, and I deflate the second I step through the front door. Everything is quiet. Smaller. More still. Even the relentless Florida sunshine can't shake me from the post-vacation blues. I decide I'm determined to get that first draft of the review to Lana as quickly as possible, so I open my laptop and start to write. My suitcase remains unpacked, stationed at the foot of the front door. Laundry can wait. All of it can wait. I don't want to leave the Trident Voyager yet, and working on this review gives me the perfect avenue to delay my return to the real world.

An hour passes and my eyelids begin to droop. I yawn and rise from the couch, moseying over to my suitcase. Guess it's now or never. If I don't unpack and do laundry now, I'll just have to face the lovely little task in the morning. I pop the handle on the suitcase and start to wheel it toward the hall. I still when a sharp, brisk knock taps at the door. Turning on my heel, I lazily answer it, a rush of breath catching in my throat.

"Tanner?" My fingers grip the doorknob. I'm unable to do anything but stare. "What are you doing here?"

He doesn't smile. There's no hint of what he's thinking, standing here on my doorstep like this. He simply nods politely—very typical Mr. Businessman Christensen—and greets me with an extended handshake.

"Miss Banks."

My brow cocks and my gaze drops to his hand. He recoils the gesture, slipping his hand into his pocket instead.

He clears his throat. "May I come in?"

"How do you know where I live?"

Finally, a flash of something other than cool indifference bathes his face. That pleased, cocky expression of his pulls his lips into a light smirk. "I'm Tanner Christensen, Anya. That information is easily attainable for a man like me."

"I see." I step aside, the movement cautious, as if a snake is about to strike.

He accepts my invitation, keeping his hands clasped casually behind his back. "I asked Lana for your address," he admits as he strolls inside, eyeing the ceiling and walls as if my apartment is a museum to be examined.

"Ah, of course." I shut the door behind him. I watch as he wanders into my living room and turns around to face me, unbuttoning his suit jacket. My gaze lingers on the fluidity of his fingers, the way they deftly unhook the jacket button.

He seems to notice my observation. His smirk grows.

"So, what can I do for you, Tanner?" I steel myself and lift my chin, but Mr. Blue Eyes sees straight through me. I can feel my transparency, feel the heat of his stare slither straight down my spine to the tips of my toes. What in the hell is he doing here?

"I've come to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement."

"I thought we agreed our arrangement was over." I play with the hem of my sundress, suddenly wishing I'd applied some more deodorant. And brushed my teeth. The day has worn at me since stepping off the ship, and I'm inwardly kicking myself for not showering as soon as I arrived home.

"What would you say if I proposed an extension?" His blue gaze flickers at me from across the room, and he bites at his bottom lip, waiting. Watching. He doesn't miss a thing. Not the way I'm toying with my dress, or the fact that I'm choking on my breath, as if I can't suck in enough air. None of this seems to faze him, though. It only encourages him to step forward, to move in like a predator on a kill at the opportune time.

In seconds, he's before me, the tips of his fingers skimming the tops of my thighs, along the edge of my dress, where my fingertips still play. "Anya," he breathes, leaning in, "no one, and I mean no one, is as deliciously fuckable as you are, right now, in that dress. I want to taste you again." His lips brush mine and I shiver, reaching back for the side of the dining room table. My fingers locate and grip at it, desperate for something, anything to rescue me from whatever it is I know I'm about to fall into with Tanner if I let him touch me like this. He kisses me, softly and sweetly, but there's power and demand behind it, urging me on. "Say yes."

"Tanner, I can't. You shouldn't be here."

"You want me here." His teeth graze my jaw line and his fingertips mingle with mine, slowly inching up the dress hem.

"I told you, this isn't a good idea."

"Why?" He raises a hand and flicks his thumb over my nipple, cupping me over the thin, lacy material. "Tell me why this isn't a good idea."

"I've already explained it."

"No." He swirls his thumb again and grips me hard, stepping forward to push me back to the edge of the table. "You haven't."

I gulp and suck in a sharp breath when my rear hits the edge. The words spill out. I can't stop them even if I tried. "I should have listened to my instinct," I reply quietly. "I can't play. Not with you."

"What does that mean?"

"It means you're not just any man to me. You're not just..."

"Just what?"

"A fling. A plaything. I thought you could be. But I was wrong." I blink, waiting for him to back up, waiting for him to retreat and haul ass out the front door. But he doesn't move, just skims his lips across my cheek. "Tanner? Did you hear me?"

"I heard you." His fingers drift down and slip between my thighs. He smiles against me and whispers. "So wet."

"Please, stop." My eyes shut and my head slowly rolls back.

"You don't mean that."

My lids peek open and I find his gaze. "I'm starting to have feelings for you. Is that clear enough?"

Silence stretches around us, snapping from one end of the room to the other. He still doesn't move.

"Tanner?"

"You make me want things," he finally says, glaring down, expression guarded. "Different things."

"Different things?"

"New things." He bristles against me, carefully lifting and slipping me onto the edge of the table. My body moves fluidly, yielding to his touch. "I'm not sure what it means. I'm not even sure I like it. But I know I need to pursue it, whatever it is. If there's one thing I listen to besides my cock, it's the nagging in my head. And you've been nagging the hell out of me. You, and your damn sticky note system. You, touching shit on my desk and finding ridiculously rational places for it. Your moans when you come, the way you look me in the eyes when I fuck you, like I'm a person, a man who can give you something you've never had. You. You and that damned beautiful mouth. The way your eyes light up when you talk about traveling. You've exhausted me, Anya. I'm so goddamn tired of you running around in my head."

"And you consider that a good thing?" I squeak, eyes dropping to my lap, watching as he hitches my dress up to my waist. He wrenches the material aside and hovers over me, pressing his palms flat onto the table at my sides.

"I don't know what it is, baby. I only know I want it. And I go after what I want."

My hands grip his face, my thumbs smoothing over his rigid jaw, and I tilt my head up, brushing his lips with my tongue before pressing myself against him fully. He sighs against me at the touch, a breathy moan that is my undoing, and he kisses me back, smoothing his hand down my spine, landing on the flare of my hip.

"Wait," I pull away and slide back on the table, pressing my palms against his torso, keeping him at a distance. My body's heat protests the separation. "Just wait."

He swallows and his eyes drift open, hazy with lust. "What's wrong?"

"You said you came here to renegotiate our agreement."

"I did." Clarity invades some of the haze.

"What is it you want to renegotiate? You want us to continue this...until what?"

"I don't know. Do we have to know right now? Can't we just see where it goes?"

"I do. I have to know." I slide my legs to the right and shimmy my dress down, hopping off the table. I slowly walk around it, facing him once I'm safely on the other side. "The whole reason I cut things off when I did was because I was beginning to have feelings for you, Tanner."

"I understand that. It's why I'm here. That's why I came to see you." He leans forward slightly, placing his hands on the table's edge. "Just give me two more weeks."

"Two more weeks of what?" I laugh in disbelief. "I can't do that to myself. I won't."

A whisper of panic flashes in his eyes but he restrains it, keeping it in check. He glances to the left and collects a breath. "What if I tried to give you more?"

I watch him carefully, like a lion about to pounce. I'm certain I didn't hear him right. "You don't want more, Tanner. You've made that very clear."

"I'm confused right now, Miss Banks. That's all. You do things to me. Make me want things. The direction I'm headed..." he tugs at his hair and sighs heavily, "this is my last chance, Anya."

"Your last chance at what?"

He opens his mouth to speak but his gaze is conflicted, his mouth tripping on the words. His lips seal tightly.

"Tanner," I step around the table and move toward him, stepping toe to toe with him, "what are you talking about?"

"My last chance to change direction. You made me realize that. And you're what I want. You're that chance."

I reach out to touch his arm, studying him. His shoulders are tense; his gaze is severe. "What are you saying? I don't understand."

Suddenly he brings his forehead down, flush with mine. He stares into my eyes, saying so many things at once, yet leaving me winded, leaving me empty. I'm swimming in a sea of confusion, drowning in the stormy blue of his gaze. "Come back on the Trident Voyager with me. Just give me two more weeks."

"What?" I blink.

"I spoke to Ted twenty minutes ago. I asked him if he'd approve another sailing. The expense is all on my tab."

My eyes widen. "You what?" My hand grips my stomach and I stumble back. "I just walked in the door, Tanner. I'm not even unpacked, and you want me to go on another cruise?" My mind is spinning. He's not only asking me to spend another two weeks with him on his ship, he also just revealed that he called my boss again. "You can't meddle in my professional life like this. I want to earn Ted's good favor fair and square, not because you're recommending me for God knows what, just so you can screw me at your convenience!"

"Anya," he invades my space again, expression earnest. I hate that he looks so sincere, because all I really want to do in that moment is slap him for being such an arrogant, presumptuous arse. "Please, don't be insulted by this. I'm not trying to buy you out or degrade you or...shit, none of this is coming out right. This is new for me. I don't know what the fuck I'm doing." He spins on his heel and steps across the room, and I watch him, my eyes still wide in shock at his outrageous audacity.

"Then what was your intention here? Help me understand, because I'm two seconds away from kicking you out."

He turns to face me and inhales deeply. "I'm just asking for two more weeks with you. Two more weeks to please you, to spend time with you. To see if I can...to see where this goes."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not willing to take that risk right now."

"Why not? What's life without some risk?"

"There is a reason I don't spend time on boats, Tanner. You know that," I say, nearly choking on the pulse beating violently in the back of my throat. "You saw me in the storm, nearly getting tossed overboard by the wind. You saw me try to face my fear and you saw it break me down. You carried me inside, away from the crashing waves. Being on the ocean forces me to remember the accident. Maybe I don't want to do that again." I close my eyes, remembering the nightmares, the visions of reaching for Zoe's hand in the cold, dark water.

"That's because you refuse to see it for what it really was, Anya," Tanner replies quietly. His voice is even and firm. "It wasn't an accident; it was a rescue. You saved her."

I am floored by his words—so stunned I forget to breathe for a moment. "Right," I whisper. "You're right. But no one's going to save me when you toss me out with the rest of them. What happens at the end of those two weeks, huh? You tell me. What happens when I feel more than you do? You're not risking a thing. You're asking me to take the risk. I'm the one with something to lose here, not you."

"That couldn't be farther from the truth." He looks away and grits his teeth, an undercurrent in his tone sweeping far and wide, knocking me back. A beat passes and he collects himself again, turning to grip my shoulders. "Two weeks, Anya. Two weeks of your life, that's all I'm asking. This is an offer for another fully paid luxury cruise. All on me. You get to write more about my ship, more about your travels, more for your magazine. Your boss is already on board. It's a wonderful career opportunity. Please."

I remain quiet, staring up at him. He makes it all sound so glamorous, so easy. But I see the unpaved bricks before me. I see the path, even though it's yet to be laid. My gut screams to say no to this man, this beautiful, irresistible man. But I don't. I can't. Not when he's looking at me like this. Not when his hands are on me. I can't deny the rush of excitement that races over me, that zips through like wildfire at the thought of spending another blissful two weeks with him.

Against my better judgment, I nod and say yes. I listen to Lana's nagging voice, the one telling me to admit I want him. That I want something more—or at least the chance to see if he does. At the very worst, I'll walk off his ship again with a heavier heart, with more weight to carry home.

The biggest grin breaks out on his face, instantly making me forget what the hell I was so worried about in the first place. He moves in and hoists me up, tugging on my bottom lip with his teeth. "You won't regret it, Miss Banks."

"I need to do laundry."

"We'll buy you new clothes."

I jut my head back and glare up at him. "You might have talked me into going back on that ship with you, Mr. Christensen, but you will not convince me to be a kept woman for the next two weeks."

"Haven't you already been a kept woman?" His chin cocks up and his smirk tilts, blue eyes narrowing as he challenges my gaze. "I believe I've spoiled you rotten for the past twelve days. Do you honestly object to being spoiled for fourteen more?"

I slap his shoulder and wiggle in his grip. "Put me down."

"No."

"I mean it."

"No. What you really mean is, put me down on the table and fuck me senseless. Admit it, Miss Banks." He bends and pecks my cheek. "You want it just as much as I do."

"I never denied that."

"Then perhaps it's time to quit arguing and time to let me please you, yes?"

"Tanner," my voice softens and I raise a finger to his lips, "will you really insist on buying me new clothes? I'd like to bring my own. I'd like to do my laundry."

"How long will it take you to do laundry?"

"I don't know, a few hours?"

"Where are your washer and dryer?" He glances around, holding me tightly around his hips.

"Over there." I nod toward the hall closet.

"And your laundry?"

"There." I point to my suitcase. He lets me slide down his body. My feet hit the floor and I can't help the pout that spreads over my face. "You want me to do the laundry now?"

"Yes."

"What happened to pleasing me?"

His amused, cocky smirk twitches and he slips his hands casually into his pants pockets. He hangs his head with a husky laugh and his baby blues roll up, watching me. "Miss Banks, I have two weeks to please you. I assure you, you'll get your fill. And when you're done, you'll be ruined for all men."

My cheeks flame and my chest swells with indignation. "That's not what I meant."

"Isn't it?" His brows lift.

"Maybe I'll skip the laundry." I cross my arms and thrust my hip to the left. Lana would certainly be proud. "In fact, maybe I'll skip the cruise altogether. Maybe I've changed my mind."

"No, you haven't."

"You condescending son of a—"

"You're wasting time, Anya." He gestures to the hallway. "The sooner that laundry gets done, the sooner I can carry you back to my ship and worship your body."

I gulp quietly. The more he talks about pleasing me and worshiping my body, the less appeal laundry seems to have. This man must be out of his mind if he thinks he's gaining any momentum here.

Channeling my inner Lana again, I call on the sassy, brave seductress she's encouraged me to be and walk forward, giving his chest a firm shove. He doesn't budge, barely flinches, just watches with cool, easy indifference; the kind I've learned drives me mad. It truly takes me to the brink, especially when it comes from him, and knowing this irks me like nothing else.

"You," I demand, lifting my chin in triumphant defiance, "need to sit in that armchair and shut up, Mr. Christensen. It's my turn to please you."

"Is that so?"

"Yes."

He collects my wrist and yanks it behind my back, stepping forward, eyes raining down on me. "At what point did you begin to believe you have control here, Miss Banks?"

Everything in me wants to cower, to shrink before him. Not in fear, but in cooperation. His bossy ways have grown on me, and it pleases me to no end to submit to him. As I stand here, though, I don't see Tanner Christensen, owner of Trident Voyager. I catch another glimpse of Tanner. Just Tanner. The man standing here in my apartment. The one who came here of his own free will to pursue me. To extend our arrangement. To offer the possibility of something more, something he's never given any other woman.

Despite my desire to submit, I fight the natural inclination. I stare up at him innocently. "The minute you walked through my door, Mr. Christensen."

His lips swish to the side and suppress the laugh sneaking up. Without a word, he releases my wrist and slowly steps backward, his hands coolly tapping the sides of his thighs. He glances over his shoulder to locate the armchair in the living room area.

"Well," he finally says, "I'm all yours, baby." He continues to shuffle backward, settling into the armchair with an easy grace that makes my heart jump into my throat. Once he's comfy, he splays his legs wide, drapes his arms on the armrests, and lifts his chin.

All of my nerve is shot the moment we lock eyes.

"Getting cold feet?"

"No." I gulp.

"On your knees, Miss Banks." He gestures to his feet. "No turning back now." My mouth waters as I walk toward him, eyes dropping to his lap. He tilts his head and watches me lower myself to the floor, spreading his knees farther apart. He leans forward a hair, and his voice drops an octave, becoming silky, smooth, and wholly authoritative. "Take it all the way, baby."

I glance up. I can't wait to taste him. My fingers find his fly, trembling a bit as they work the zipper. His breath hitches above me when I take him into my hand and lean forward, teasing his moist tip with my tongue. The sound sends a thrill through me. This isn't the first time I've taken him in my mouth, but it's the first time he's allowed me complete control in this position. I'm the director, and he's the treasured talent, ready for me to mold, ready for creation.

My body stretches as I move in closer. I freeze when his hand snakes out to wrench at my hair. His fingertips glide over my skull and he latches on, getting a good handful, forcing me to tilt my head back. I peer up at him, waiting for whatever it is he's trying to tell me. I know it then, when his baby blues sear mine. I'm a slave to this man. He's done something to me, and he's absolutely right.

There's no turning back now.

Soon I'll be on the Trident Voyager again. Once again, I'll be Tanner's goddess, and he'll be all mine. Once again, I'll be facing the roaring sea and all of its glory, but this time, it's not the ocean I'm afraid of.

TWELVE

I double check my purse to make sure my meds are carefully tucked away in the side pocket. I'm hoping I won't need them this time around, but reality remains. The ocean's power can strike without warning, and at any time can send me into a spiraling meltdown. I may have confronted my fear during my first cruise on Trident Voyager, but I know I'm not out of the woods yet.

Lana yaps wildly at me on the phone as I hurry out the door. Tanner awaits me in the parking lot in a shiny, fresh-from-the-factory luxury sports car, sunglasses dipped low on his nose, watching me through the windshield.

"I swear to you, the second you step foot off that ship, I will bow down and kiss your feet," Lana says, her voice laced with uncontainable excitement. "This is by far the most thrilling thing you've ever done, Anya Banks! I mean, coming with me on the first cruise was pretty freaking brave of you, but this is an entirely new level of badassery!"

"I've lost my mind," I mumble into the phone, turning to lock the door behind me. "This is crazy."

"Listen to me and listen to me good, Anya. Women all around the globe are counting on you to live out their wildest fantasies, do you understand? Any straight, sane woman would kill for a chance at round two with Mr. I-Own-the-Ship Christensen. So live it up, and enjoy every damn second of it, or you will let us all down, and we will cry, and then we'll have to stone you to death or something equally horrific. And I just can't allow that."

I stop when I turn back to walk to the car. "Oh my God."

"Oh! What? What is it? You want to have his babies, don't you?"

"No," I laugh, holding up my index finger to tell Tanner to wait, "I forgot to email you the review. I meant to send it last night, but we got, um...busy."

"So, what you really mean is you were busy being a dirty temptress when you should've been working on the review you owe me."

I gasp. "Take it back, Lana Crawley!"

"Nuh-uh," she mumbles. "No take backs. Never, ever."

"Okay. Quit harassing me and let me live out the women of the world's fantasies."

"Yes! That's the spirit. Oh, and take pictures."

"Take pictures?" I curl my lip. "Lana, I love you and all, but..."

"No, woman. Of the ship. Your travels. Ted said he wants some great visuals for the feature."

A miffed laugh bubbles up. "Well, tell Ted to stop being cheap and to send Jake out here to get some shots."

"One step ahead of you, girl. Ted actually tried to get him out on the ship with us two weeks ago, but he's been in Bermuda with the family."

"Bummer. He's the best photographer we've got."

Lana snorts. "He's the only photographer we've got."

"This is true." I smile and sigh, still amazed at how stingy Ted can be. Four Corners Elite is one of the top travel publications in the industry, yet Ted's really been holding back lately. He's always been frugal, but the past few months have been torturous when it comes to discussing expenses with him. "Okay, I'll email you the draft when I get on the ship. Tanner's waiting."

"Sounds good, love. Have a blast! Brie and I will wallow in envy as we share a baguette and a bottle of red without you."

"Sounds brutal," I chuckle and start for Tanner's car. "Tell her I said hey."

"Will do. Talk soon!"

We hang up and I scuttle to the passenger door. Tanner beats me to it, hopping out of the driver's seat to help me inside.

"We're running late, Miss Banks." He shoots me a look that says he means business, but all I can do is smile up at him. He's so handsome in his signature grey suit and blue tie, all professional and debonair. He slipped fully back into Mr. Christensen mode this morning, and this side of him carries an irresistible flair all of its own. "Don't grin at me like that."

"Why not?"

"It's distracting."

"You said that last night."

"Yes, because last night you gave me the same grin right before you took me in your mouth, and now I can't get the image out of my head." He leans down and skims his thumb along my bottom lip, leveling his gaze with mine. "Distracting," he whispers, with a ghost of a smile. I reach up for his hand and weave our fingers together for a moment, giving him a quick squeeze before allowing him to release me.

It's not long before we hit the road. Tanner's driving is fast and smooth, careful and calculated, cautious but always sitting on the edge of daring. My mind can't seem to get over the hurdle that I'm once again sitting next to Tanner Christensen. That I'm about to be back on his ship, and back in his bed. I really should have done more research on his father, or at the very least, studied the notes Lana took during her own research. I have no idea what I'll write about this time around.

"Something on your mind?" he asks, glancing at me.

"I was just wondering about my assignment for this sailing. I haven't heard from Ted since we docked yesterday. What did you discuss with him? I've already written my review."

"He gave you the green light to write about anything you wish."

"Anything?"

"Anything. I've asked him to consider doing a full-length themed feature about my ship in exchange for exclusive details on the company's expansion."

"You're expanding?"

"Yes." He shifts and his knuckles flex around the steering wheel. "We'll be sailing from new ports next year, expanding in parts of Europe and out in the Pacific Northwest."

"That's so exciting! I bet you're thrilled."

"Exciting, yes. Thrilled, no. It will mean more time away from home. And other changes that I'm not particularly looking forward to."

"You travel a lot already. Will it make that much of a difference?"

His phone rings, cutting him off, and he excuses himself as he hurries to answer. I give him a moment, directing my attention out the passenger window, eyeing the bright, cloudless sky and the tops of the palm trees that line the interstate as we speed toward Port Canaveral.

I imagine Tanner sailing new territory, greeting guests on the Trident Voyager as he introduces them to fresh, stunning views of the Mediterranean. Even now, immersed in his world of luxury and exclusivity, I cannot merge my idea of living with his reality, which is filled with wealth, glamorous travel, gourmet food, and a ceaseless stream of women throwing themselves at his feet.

My reality is microwaving the occasional TV dinner, sitting in a cubicle, and entertaining deadbeat boyfriends.

A familiar wave of insecurity suddenly overtakes me and I begin to squirm, stilling when I feel Tanner's hand grip and rest on my knee. He's still on the phone, going on about business, but he glances at me curiously. I settle my focus on the road ahead, determined to keep the irrational thoughts deeply buried. They need to be invisible around a man like Tanner, who knows exactly who he is and what he likes.

"I won't discuss this now," he insists, lowering his voice. His hand leaves my knee. "Then we won't discuss it ever. I know exactly what you think of my decision. You've told me no less than five times now. I'll speak to you when I dock in two weeks, and that's final." He shoves his phone in his pocket, huffing beneath his breath. Discomfort rolls off him in waves.

"Everything okay?" I ask, wondering if that was his mother calling to pester him.

"It will be, once we step foot on my ship."

"We don't have to go on another sailing, you know. I understand if you'd like some time away from work. We can just spend time at your place, instead. Or mine."

"No. The Voyager will do." He squeezes my knee again. "It's the only way to ensure I get two full weeks with you. Once you're on my ship, you're stuck with me."

"There would certainly be worse things in the world, Mr. Christensen."

His head snaps toward me and I look away, a content, peaceful smile forming on my face.

"We're making a pit stop before we board," Tanner declares, a knowing lilt to his tone.

"Oh? Where to?"

"Right here." He points over the steering wheel to the shopping plaza on the right, eyeing the office supply store at the end of the strip.

"Let me guess. You're all out of sticky notes."

"Something like that." We park and he opens the door for me, taking my hand. When we step inside the office supply store, Tanner grabs a cart and I'm whisked to the left, down the first aisle.

"If we're not here for sticky notes, what do you need?"

"I'd like you to organize my office." He walks us down the aisle, assessing the pen holders and file trays. "Get one of everything. Anything you think I need, put it in the cart."

"Wait a minute. The last two times I touched things in your office, it made you very cranky."

"I'm over it, Miss Banks. Please tend to this task for me. You're good at it, and I trust your judgment."

I stop and eye him warily. "No more frantic phone calls when you can't find a phone number?"

"I cannot promise that, but I believe I can agree to some upgrades to keep things in better order."

"As in, you'll actually try storing your contacts in your phone?"

"Absolutely not."

"Tanner, what century are you living in? How have you survived in the business world?"

"I like to write things down. That will not change, so get used to it, Miss Banks. It's worked for me thus far."

"Um, no. No, it hasn't."

"If you're going to organize my office, you're going to play by my rules."

"I never agreed to organize your office!" My voice jumps two octaves and earns us a few looks from nearby store associates. I gather my cool and get myself in check. I speak quieter this time. "I'm a travel writer, not an administrative assistant."

"You're also a kept woman for the next two weeks, and kept women have to earn their keep." He winks playfully and I stomp on his foot, wishing to God Lana were here to witness the victory. She's my biggest cheerleader, and the more I spend time with Tanner and his full-of-himself persona, I'm convinced I have, in fact, learned to adopt some of her spunk. With a man this overbearing, I've no choice.

"I haven't boarded your ship yet. I can call Jonah right now and have him pick me up and drive me home."

Tanner's eyes flare. "Need I remind you that you are on loan to me by your boss for the next two weeks and that the entire expense is on me?" He snatches a pen holder from the shelf without looking at it and holds it out, gently pressing it into my chest. "You work for me the next two weeks, Miss Banks, and I won't allow Junior to pick you up in his remote control toy car."

"Jonah drives a moped, for your information."

"Oh," he rolls his eyes to the ceiling, chuckling, "even better."

"Fine." I grab the pen holder and toss it unceremoniously in the cart. "If I'm to organize your office, then we play by my rules." I walk around the cart and lean up into his face, kissing him on the lips. "And there will be no more sticky notes." Without another word, I push the cart and start trucking down the aisle, grabbing everything in sight. Not only has he fired me up about my choice in men—boys, whatever—and interfered with my career, now he's awakened an entirely new passion in me, and that is to create the best, most efficient office system I can for him. At least now, when I stop by to say hello, his desk won't drive me mad.

I can feel the undercurrent of his laugh behind me, but I don't turn around. I remain focused, a woman on a mission, goal oriented and task driven. I may work in a boring cubicle for people who get to travel a hell of a lot more than I do, but I have the neatest, most efficient cubicle in the office, and that workspace makes me one hell of a writer. It keeps me focused, and when you're staring at a blank Word document while the Temptress of All Shiny Things—aka the Internet—taunts you, focus is critical.

By the time we hit the check-out counter, I've practically bought the whole store. I smile as Tanner lugs all of the bags from the cart and loads them into the trunk. Next stop is the port, and when we arrive, I feel a small flair of panic when my gaze lands on the ship. Just yesterday, I was able to look back at it fondly, reverently, even. Today, knowing I'm boarding for yet another fourteen days and placing my heart on the line by extending this arrangement with Tanner, a new breed of uncertainty begins to swell low in my belly.

"Did you remember to pack your meds?" Tanner asks gently as a steward approaches to take our shopping bags and luggage.

I pause for a moment. "Yes. Thank you."

He plants a light kiss on my head and offers me his arm to walk up the gangway. "The minute you feel afraid, you come find me. Day or night. I'm all yours. You're my first priority during this sailing."

A little pang hits my chest and my eyes roll up to watch him as we walk. His baby blues are covered, concealed by his sunglasses. I squeeze his forearm and his lips twitch, but he doesn't look down, just keeps up his graceful stride, leading us to his cabin, kicking off our shoes as soon as we enter.

"Champagne, baby?" He begins to loosen his tie.

I flop onto the chaise lounge by one of the porthole windows and sigh. "That sounds heavenly."

"I'm on it. Would you like anything else?"

"Just you."

He slides his tie off and hangs it over the back of a dining room chair. "At your service, Miss Banks."

I stretch out like a cat and cradle my arms behind my head, envisioning the new adventures about to unfold as we set sail. "Tanner?" I call out, hearing him shuffle around in the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Are we going back to Alvita?"

"We are."

"Will we get to spend more time at your place on the island?"

"If you'd like."

"I'd love to."

"There will be no dusting this time around."

"Oh, but you know what a man with a duster does for me," I sing playfully, pointing my toes over the edge of the lounge. I'm in sore need of a pedicure.

"If it pleases you that much, I'll consider a repeat performance." He reappears from the kitchen, two glasses of champagne in hand.

I sit up eagerly. "You would do that?"

He hands me one and sits next to me, clinking our glasses. "I said I'll consider it. No promises, though."

My bottom lip puffs out and he bends forward, planting a kiss on my cheek. "To our revised arrangement," he raises his glass, "and to gorgeous, clever women brave enough to dive in."

I tap my glass against his. "I don't think there's anything clever about me joining you for another cruise." My tone is light, but my words seem to jar him.

"Why do you say that?"

"I've already told you. I'm the one taking the risk, here."

"You have no idea the risk I'm taking by bringing you here, Anya." His eyes flit away and he takes a sip of his champagne.

I sit up straight, tucking my legs to the side. "Me? A risk? How so? Why didn't you say something? I offered to stay ashore and—"

"Let me ask you something."

"Okay..."

"Where did you get the impression that you're the only one...feeling invested?"

His head turns but his gaze is lowered, scanning my bare legs. My lungs lock up in my chest, shifting into shutdown mode. My fingers find the hem of my sundress and begin wiggling it down toward my knees, suddenly feeling the need to cover them from his intense stare.

"I'm not sure," I respond quietly. "I suppose I just assumed that from the beginning. You've made your position very clear. I wasn't expecting anything other than what you offered."

His gaze finally lifts to mine, and his eyes pierce me. "I still don't know what I can offer you. I don't know what this means. I only know I want as many hours as possible with you."

I blink. My fingers turn cold, but my chest warms, as if fresh laundry from the dryer has just been dumped onto it by the heap full.

"Does that frighten you?" he asks, watching my reaction with the same severity evident in his voice.

I stutter. "Why would that frighten me?"

"You don't strike me as a woman who enjoys spending time in Limbo. I can see you're a rational, practical person who likes order and certainty. I'm not sure I can offer you either."

"I'm far from rational when I'm with you, Tanner."

He scans my face, and I can't help but wonder what's brought about his sudden seriousness. Just moments ago he was relaxed and carefree, proposing a toast to celebrate our time together, and now he's brooding and lost in thought.

"Hey," I scoot over and climb onto his lap. "Let's not over think this. We have an arrangement. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. I can handle that, or I wouldn't have agreed to be here with you again." I mean the words as I say them, but a small, black space, somewhere hidden, nags at me that they aren't entirely true.

He welcomes me onto his lap, brushing my hair over my shoulder. "I'm afraid I've involved you in something you weren't prepared to take on."

"You're second guessing your decision to invite me here?"

He takes another sip from his flute and his shoulders tense beneath my hands. "It's not that, Anya. I want you here. More than you know."

"Then why are you pouting?"

He stiffens and his eyes flick up. "I'm not pouting."

"This is you," I trace his lips with my finger, "pouting. Where is all of this coming from?"

He bites my finger, the breath from his nostrils hitting my skin. He changes his tune, shaking the heaviness. "You're clothed and on my lap."

I snicker. "Keen observation, Mr. Christensen."

He pinches my hipbone. "I prefer you naked when you're on my lap."

"Mmm," I lean down and kiss his neck, "I think we've established that."

He lifts and pushes me back, laying me down on the chaise, moving to hover over me. His mouth comes down lightly, his voice barely a whisper. "I'm going to give it to you gently," he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. "I know how that pleases you." Our breaths mingle, and he begins to caress my neck, sliding his hand down the curve, along the slope of my throat. My body purrs, an engine spurring to life.

And just like that, the moment is ruined.

There's a brisk knock on the door, and Tanner curses, pushing up off the chaise. He fiddles with the top button of his crisp, white shirt and stalks toward the door, swinging it open sharply. Two men stand there with our luggage and a cart, which holds our purchases from the office supply store. Their eyes are wide with fear, and their faces are fire engine red.

"Your things, Mr. Christensen," one of them stutters, wheeling my suitcase to his side. "We're sorry for the intrusion."

Frustration radiates from Tanner, his neck and shoulders tight, a frown plastered on his face, but he thanks them kindly and tips them generously, pointing to the cart. "I requested those go to my office. Please see to it they're placed next to my desk, and let the front desk know I'm not to be disturbed the rest of the day."

"Yes, sir. Right away. I'm very sorry, but Heidi's requested you come to the office, sir."

"And why is that?"

One of the men clears his throat and begins rolling the cart away, leaving his coworker to deal with Tanner. I feel sorry for them both. Right now, Mr. Christensen is an angry bear being lured from his cave, and I would not want to be on the receiving end of that exchange. The remaining steward glances past Tanner and at me, his eyes bouncing nervously back to his boss immediately. "I really can't say, sir. I was just told to deliver the message."

"Tell Heidi she can call me herself if it's that urgent."

"She said she tried, sir, but you haven't answered. She said you don't have long."

Tanner begins to shut the door, but pauses. "Don't have long for what?"

"I'm very sorry, sir, but I'm not to say."

Tanner eyes the man's name tag. "Jerry, would you mind telling me why you're talking in code?"

I'm on my feet before I can stop myself. "Jerry," I join Tanner's side and extend my hand to the man, "I'm Anya Banks. It's a pleasure to meet you." He gives my hand a wary glance but accepts the shake, keeping an eye on Tanner as he does. "Mr. Christensen will be right there. You can tell Heidi not to worry." I smile kindly and look to Tanner, who's glaring down at me in disbelief.

"Thank you, Miss Banks," Jerry says with a grateful nod. He hurries off and Tanner shuts the door.

"Just what do you think you're doing? I'm not going to the office right now."

"That poor guy thought you were about to lynch him. Cut him a break. And Heidi already has enough on her plate. No need to stress her out any further. There's no rush, you have me for the next fourteen days." I shrug and begin an easy gait back to the chaise, but Tanner stops me, turning me to take me in his arms.

"I was very happy with where I was, Miss Banks. I have zero interest in leaving this cabin."

"Well, it seems you have business to attend to, so go do what you have to do." I kiss his nose. "You can take care of me later."

His gaze drops to my lips and he squeezes me for a moment. "I suppose I should see what's got Heidi all worked up, and I do have some phone calls I can make while I'm there. I can get them out of the way now, so I'm free the rest of the day. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all." I give him a little push. "Go."

He lifts his wrist to peer at his watch. "We'll be leaving port any minute. Enjoy the launch, and we'll pick up where we left off when I return. Sound good?"

"Sounds perfect."

He nods briskly and grabs his tie from the dining room chair.

"Let me," I say, stepping in front of him. He slips the baby blue silk around his neck and drops his arms to his sides, allowing me to fix it for him. He watches as I adjust the silk, smoothing it down the center of his chest when I'm done. He studies me as I step back to eye my handiwork.

"I could get used to this."

"Ha. What, a woman dressing you?"

"No." He leans forward and brings his mouth to mine, speaking over my lips, causing my skin to tingle. "Watching a woman like you dress a man like me." He quickly releases me and exits the cabin, leaving me with another one of those stupid pangs jumping around in my chest. It's sharp and swift, and it steals my breath.

I decide to slip back into my heels and collect my purse, intent to head back out to celebrate setting sail, but as the ship begins to move, I find myself stuck watching from Tanner's living room window. I'm enraptured, caught up in the moment, and I don't want to move. Seagulls and pelicans scatter from the dock and take flight, and the slight trace of movement becomes noticeable beneath my feet. This launch, just like the last, is so graceful, so smooth, all I can do is stand still in awe at its beauty.

I give myself a few more moments to take it in and then resume my stroll to the cabin door, stepping out into the hall. Familiar excitement buzzes all around me. Teenagers chat animatedly with their families, girlfriends laugh as they hurry down the hall together, and young singles check out other young singles as they pass one another, all hyped up and ready to party. All of it makes me miss Lana and Brie.

Once I arrive to the deck, I wander toward the Marais Lounge, soaking up the afternoon sunshine and reveling in the festive atmosphere. Everything about this cruise feels different somehow. More intimate, less hectic. Part of it is because I now know what it feels like to step foot on a ship and face the ocean since the accident, and the other part is undoubtedly linked to Tanner. Despite my reservations, I don't regret accepting his invitation. In fact, I'm hell bent on taking Lana's advice and enjoying the hell out of it.

I feel my phone vibrate in my purse, but I don't bother answering. I don't want anything to distract me from being in the moment right now. It's too good to pass up. Instead, I stroll along the deck and take in the view, letting the music from the lounge drift out the doors and inside of me, where it takes hold and sends me into full-on relaxation mode. When I reach the lounge doors, I wander inside and press the elevator button. I know exactly where I'm going.

I'm an addict. I simply cannot help myself.

A few minutes later, I find myself in front of Tanner's office. I don't want to disturb him, especially after I've encouraged him to get his work done so he can play for the afternoon, but wandering around his deck alone makes me miss him, and suddenly all I want to do is surprise him. I pause before entering, biting my lip. This will either brand me that needy, tag-along girlfriend—well, in this case, not-so-girlfriend—or a woman who is in serious need of a Tanner fix. I stand there a moment more, questioning myself.

Yup, definitely the latter. And I'm not even sorry.

I'm channeling my inner islander as I stroll up to Heidi's desk to say hello, all calm, cool, and casual, still entranced by the breathtaking view and the tropical breeze gracing the deck. Heidi's head is down as she types away. She jumps up from her chair the moment she sees me, and my inner islander instantly vanishes.

My eyes widen. "Hey, Heidi. Is everything okay?"

"Miss Banks, I didn't know you were sailing with us this week."

My gaze drops to her empty chair. "Oh, it was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing. I'm sorry if I spooked you."

She hurries around the reception desk to stand next to me. She's clicking her pen, glancing over at Tanner's office doors. "Well, we're certainly happy to have you on board again. I'm sorry to say Mr. Christensen's busy at the moment, but I can have him phone you as soon as he wraps things up."

"No problem. He mentioned he had some phone calls to take care of, so I've just been killing time around the ship until he's free. I won't disturb him. Please just let him know I came by to see if he wanted me to get started organizing his office. I'll be back at his cabin." I turn to leave, but something in Heidi's expression stalls me in my tracks. Her face is tense, and she's fidgeting, still obsessively clicking her pen.

"Miss Banks, I'm not quite sure how to say this, but I think it's best if we place you in your own private suite for the remainder of the sailing. Something's come up and I'm not sure if—"

Before she can finish, Tanner's office doors swing open and a woman snaps at Heidi, giving her a dismissive wave. "Take a late lunch," she says, eyeing Heidi up and down. Her demeanor is fierce, just like her intimidating, statuesque figure and flawless ensemble. She briefly glances at me. "Hi. Can we help you?"

Heidi jumps to action, high-tailing it back around the reception desk to snatch her purse, then zips past me, gaze downcast as she exits. I stand there awkwardly, wondering what the hell that little exchange was all about, and who this woman is, dismissing Heidi like a child.

"Yes, I'm just here to see Tanner."

"He's busy at the moment. You'll have to come back." She turns and starts for his office, but I step forward. I can't place her, but I feel as if I've seen her somewhere before. She certainly has a face you wouldn't forget. This woman is unique. An exotic, bronze-skinned beauty with hair as dark as midnight, sleek and straight, hitting the tips of her shoulders. I gawk at her composed, elegant manner. Everything about her screams that she's in charge.

"I'm sorry, I don't believe we've met." I stop her in her tracks. She turns around, rolling her eyes impatiently. "I'm Anya Banks of Four Corners Elite. I'm working with Mr. Christensen this week."

"Ah!" She shakes the irritation and plasters on a fake smile, rushing forward to shake my hand. "Yes, of course. Tanner mentioned something about a review feature of some sort. So glad you could join us. Were you able to catch the launch celebration at the Marais Lounge?"

"Not this time around, but I did on the last sailing. It was lovely."

"Oh, this isn't your first sailing?"

"Today marks the second. Tanner invited me back for another sailing. The view from his cabin is just too hard to resist."

The woman's nostrils flare.

"I don't believe I caught your name," I say. "Please forgive me if we've already met." My eyes narrow as I continue trying to recall her face. Her features are so striking, I'm almost 100 percent certain I haven't met her before. I'd remember.

A faint giggle trails from her lips. "Where are my manners?" The sound is phony and rehearsed, but I smile genuinely regardless, wanting to make an impression. Whoever she is, she seems to be tied to the ship somehow. Perhaps a staff member. "I'm Jade Simmons, of Simmons International. Tanner Christensen's fiancée."

A punch to my gut sends me off balance.

"Sorry, did you say fiancée?"

"Yes." She watches me for a moment, extending her hand to showcase a massive rock on her left finger, as if that explains everything.

It does.

My stomach twists into knots, and all of the air leaves my lungs. I stand there like a gaping fish, staring at this powerful, beautiful woman, and the shell shock levels me, leaving me dazed.

A venomous flash ripples over her face, and she takes a guarded step back. Her chin raises a hair. Her voice is even and collected. "So you've had a tour of Tanner's cabin, I see. How is it you two became acquainted, exactly? I didn't see anything on the schedule for a meeting with an Anya Banks from Four Corners Elite. Tanner mentioned a woman named Lana Crawley."

"Yes," I stutter, still incapable of moving, "that's my good friend. She's the assistant editor of the publication."

"I see."

There's a trace of movement behind her, Tanner barreling out through the doors, his phone to his ear. His gaze lands on me, and he lowers his cell. It's left dangling there, cradled in his hand.

His mouth hangs open.

Jade senses his presence behind her and steps in front of him, blocking me from his view. "You haven't answered my question, Miss Banks. How is it you and my fiancé are acquainted?"

"I—we..." I look to Tanner, as if he can throw me some sort of lifeline, but he can't. How could he? He needs a lifesaver of his own. His almost-wife is standing here in front of him, meeting the woman he's been fucking for the past two weeks.

I drag in a shallow breath. "Lana Crawley introduced us and I took over the review feature. Excuse me, but I think I'd better be going." My brain tells my feet to move, and I don't argue with it, just let it do its job. Gravity pulls me down, tearing at me like quicksand. I did not just meet Tanner's soon-to-be wife. I did not just step foot on this ship for a second time, like a completely smitten teenager. This Anya Banks isn't me. She couldn't be. The Anya Banks I know listens to her instincts. She doesn't chase after deceitful, billionaire playboys who own cruise ships. This is not light and fun. This is not a simple fling.

This is bullshit.

My body moves, snapping into action. Tanner's voice calls out to me, but the sound is distant, as if it's slipping through funneled glass.

"Anya, why haven't you answered your phone?" he insists, walking up behind me to touch my elbow. Before my brain can even register the contact, my arm recoils from his hand. I stop, looking over my shoulder. I refuse to turn and face him. I cannot look at him. And I don't need to look at Jade. I can feel her eyes drilling hot, scorching holes into my back as some sort of discovery begins to sink in. I so do not want to be here for this conversation.

"Would it really have mattered?" I snap, yanking my elbow far from his grasp. There's a rustling behind me and Jade swings around to step in front of me, blocking me from exiting the reception area.

"Tanner," she says, looking at me instead of her fiancé, "would you like to tell me about your business with Miss Banks and why she's been to our cabin?"

Their cabin? I'm going to be sick.

"No, Jade. I wouldn't. This isn't any concern of yours. Just give me a moment." He bristles and steps in front of her, reaching for me again, expression etched with sheer panic. "Anya, please come with me. We can go somewhere and talk about this. I can explain everything."

"Excuse me," Jade weasels her way between us, glancing back and forth in contempt, "but any strange woman who comes to visit my husband and claims to have seen the view from our cabin without my knowledge is very much my concern. Tanner, I'd like to speak to you in your office. Right now. Miss Banks, I suggest you leave." She moves aside and points to the exit.

Tanner shifts, turning his body toward her, blue eyes furious. "I am not your husband yet, Jade. Do not involve Anya in this, or the deal is off."

She laughs darkly, a wicked lilt rolling from her tongue. "Oh, Tanner. Are you honestly that dense? Threatening me with....whatever this little whore is to you?" She steps forward, getting in his face, her shoulders square and ready to throw down. "Who do you think you're dealing with, here?"

I cannot stand here and listen to this. I will either throw up or slap this woman. Tanner's fate would be even worse, should I stand here any longer. I frantically veer around them both, but Tanner won't let up. He starts after me, begging me to wait, and Jade is right on his heels, the sharp clack of her kitten heels following us out into the hallway. I jam at the elevator button, my pulse pounding fast. I'm in full fight-or-flight mode, and I cannot get off this ship fast enough.

I cannot get off this ship at all.

My finger jabs the button harder with this realization, my chest swelling tightly with anger—anger at myself for coming aboard again and getting myself into this mess, and anger at the lying, cheating son of a bitch who lured me here. "Tanner," I warn, shutting my eyes and grinding my jaw, "if you know what's good for you, you will leave me the hell alone. Right now. Don't touch me, don't speak to me. Just go." My eyes open and roll up, willing the damn elevator doors to open.

Jade grabs at Tanner's suit jacket sleeve and he pulls away, keeping his focus on me. "Anya, I'm begging you. I'll tell you everything. I'm sorry. Please. Please, don't leave."

Jade crosses her arms and laughs. "Run along, Miss Banks. I'll see to it we put in a fabulous word for you at Four Corners Elite."

My head snaps toward her. The elevator doors open and I grill her hard, glaring until my eyes hurt. They just might pop out of my head. "And if you do, I'll see to it that our publication exposes this affair to its full extent. Rest assured, Miss Simmons, I am prepared to fight dirty, if you make me." My gaze slides to Tanner, including him in my threat.

Jade blows off my warning and looks to her fiancé. "Tanner, I'm giving you one chance to make the right decision. You get in that elevator with her, and I will see to it you lose everything, and I do mean everything. Or you walk away with me. Right now."

I step into the elevator and my gaze jumps to Tanner. My fingers pause over the buttons. His face is red with fury, his eyes churning with conflict and despair. Barely a beat passes before he steps back, joining Jade's side. His head drops, gaze cast to the floor, hands moving to his pockets.

The last thing I see before the elevator doors close is Jade's pleased smirk and her arm curling around his, the sparkle in her eye beating at me like a heavy drum. The elevator descends, carrying me down into the ship's bowels, and I close my eyes. I now know three things: I cannot play. Tanner Christensen wasn't, isn't, and never will be mine.

And I have to find a way to get the hell off this ship.

ANCHORED

Anya and Tanner's Story, Part Two

Available NOW

Want something edgy, sexy, and drama-filled in the meantime?

Check out THE REPLACEMENT, available now! Looking for more steamy summer reads? Also check out LOVE AND RELATIVITY and THE PRESERVATION SERIES.

Find me at:

Twitter @RachaelWade

Facebook AuthorRachaelWade

 GoodReads RachaelWade
