Seducing Her Rival

Other books by Seleste deLaney

Gaming for Keeps

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

Copyright © 2013 by Seleste deLaney. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.

Entangled Publishing, LLC

2614 South Timberline Road

Suite 109

Fort Collins, CO 80525

Visit our website at
www.entangledpublishing.com
.

Brazen is an imprint of Entangled Publishing, LLC. For more information on our titles, visit
www.brazenbooks.com
.

Edited by Shannon Godwin

Cover design by Heather Howland

ISBN 978-1-62266-163-3

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition October 2013

The author acknowledges the copyrighted or trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Titanic
,
Allure
,
Page Six,
Royal Caribbean, Christopher Kane, Adagio, Make a Wish Foundation, New York Yankees,
Unforgettable
, Jacuzzi, iPad, Dazzles, Pinocchio,
Nutcracker
, Rising Tide Bar,
Chicago
,
Cell Block Tango
,
The Little Mermaid
, FlowRider, Margaritaville, Jell-o, Cinderella,
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star
,
Under the Sea
, Sand Bar, Johnny Rockets, Mary Poppins, Laundromat, La Perla,
Evita
.

To Dani for always being there with a smile, a laugh, and great advice. And for being the kind of friend I hope one day I might actually deserve.

So, about those tattoos we discussed…

Chapter One

Mer
cedes stepped out of the cab and sucked in a breath of salt, fish, and freedom. Two kids walked by, shoving each other and laughing. A pang of guilt about the work she was leaving behind made her mood slip.

She shouldn’t be here.

What had she been thinking, coming on vacation? Free or not, a trip like this was a luxury she didn’t have time for. She needed to get her ass back in the cab and fly home.

As she turned away from the gleaming white ship and the glittering water, her phone rang. “Kels? What’s wrong?”

“You were about to get on the ship, weren’t you? Then you panicked and decided you needed to come home.”

Her best friend and business partner knew her too well. “Maybe.”

“Thought so. Your job is covered. Which means you can either get on the damn
Titanic
and die a horribly tragic death so I can set up a foundation in your name, or you can fly home and sit alone in your room, hiding a knife under your pillow because you won’t know when I will come kill you for not taking advantage of a Goddamn free cruise!”

“It’s just with the property deal…the timing sucks.”

“Okay, look. If you really have issues about not working, by all means, see if you can play nice long enough to snag some donations for the Better Todays kids from the rich people on board. Meanwhile, I’ll keep an eye on Bellamy Enterprises and the property deal. Have a good time.” Kelsey clicked off before Mercedes said good-bye.

Laughing, she dragged her suitcases toward the dock. Of course, Kelsey would find a way to fulfill her need to provide for the kids at Better Todays and still have time away from the job that weighed on her mind almost 24/7.

Crewmembers took her bags at check-in and, carrying only her backpack, she crossed onto the ship. Having grown up in New York, big buildings were nothing new to her—but the
Allure
was a different animal all together. Cities weren’t supposed to float, and as soon as she stepped on deck, she could feel the floor tip slightly, threatening to throw her over the railing and send her plummeting to the dock. Panic set in, her heart pounding, sweat beading above her lips.

A guy in shorts and a polo that advertised him as one of the crew stepped up to her, a dozen cups balanced on the tray in his hand. He walked like the world wasn’t threatening to disappear from under them. “Good afternoon, miss. Would you like a drink?”

More like five. She took one and chugged. It went down so smoothly, she didn’t even notice the taste. Then it was gone and, still shaking, she set the cup back on his tray. Focusing on the waiter, she swallowed past her fear and tried to smile. “I thought you weren’t supposed to feel the movement on these things.”

“When we get out on the ocean, you won’t unless there’s a storm. Trust me, you’ll be fine soon enough.” He frowned at her for a second before glancing over his shoulder. He casually passed her a second drink. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? It’s supposed to be one to a passenger, but a little old woman before you said no. I’d hate for hers to go to waste, and you look like you could use some liquid courage.”

“Our secret, I promise.” Mercedes gripped the cup as the deck rolled again—her stomach joining it this time but, when the ship righted itself, her stomach kept falling. Almost as if it was taking a test plunge to make sure the ground was as hard as she thought.

The other passengers had started her way, and the last thing she needed to deal with was their pushing as they tried to get past her. Staying as close to the sturdiness of the wall as she could, Mercedes swallowed her terror and inched farther down the deck. She couldn’t move fast enough.

Inside. She needed to get inside right now. Maybe the sights would at least distract her enough that she wouldn’t
feel
quite as unstable. Plus there was the added benefit of not being able to see ground other than what was right below her feet. The thought drew her gaze toward land, and she jerked her head back around.

Stop it. One foot in front of the other.

Trying to still her racing heart and make her legs stop trembling, she staggered down the corridor leading from the jogging track toward the interior of the ship. With the rest of the world out of sight, she took a moment to sip her drink. Fruity-rum-goodness splashed on her tongue and made her wish she’d enjoyed the first one more. At least the waiter’d been nice enough to soothe her panic with extra booze. She’d have to find him later and thank him—when he wasn’t right by the ship’s railing.

As she turned a corner, the floor dipped again and she stumbled smack into a wall of man, her extra drink staining his bright white shirt a bloody red. She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’m so sorry…”

His deep chuckle danced over her skin, making her shiver, and her eyes shot open, taking in the delicious specimen in front of her. Tall enough she still wouldn’t be eye to eye with him in her highest heels, he practically towered over her in her sneakers. And the man possessed the kind of broad shoulders that screamed at muscles hidden beneath his shirt. The shoulders weren’t lying either—she’d felt them, was still feeling them in fact. Mercedes snatched her hand away from his chest, clenching it into a fist as she righted herself.

The faintest hint of gray decorated thick brown hair at his temples, but he didn’t look that old. She shifted her gaze to his face, only to find him staring at her with rich brown eyes and a crooked smile on his lips. Nope, definitely not very old. Mid-thirties maybe—definitely within acceptable dating range.

He smiled, warm and inviting, and her panties threatened to magically vanish when he spoke in a rich baritone. “I rarely make it through a night without wearing a drink. It’s actually kind of refreshing that you didn’t throw this one at me on purpose.”

Dios
. If she wanted to throw anything, it was him against a wall and all their clothes on the floor. Between his body and the shiver-inducing voice coming from lips framed by a Van Dyke beard that spoke of sins she’d only dreamed of, she completely forgot about the rocking of the boat and the shakiness caused by her fear of falling. This.
This
was worth the trip to Florida.

Except for the fact it was a cruise and probability said he was here with a girlfriend or a wife. Or both.

He certainly was yummy enough for both.

And he was still staring at her…maybe because she hadn’t stopped gawking. Mercedes cleared her throat. “I can’t imagine anyone throwing drinks at you, Mr.…”

For a long second they stood there. Mercedes waiting while he blinked at her, as if he was waiting for something too. Then a grin cracked his facade.

“No mister. I insist the women who spill drinks on me call me Lucas.” He crooked his elbow and tipped his chin toward it, not saying anything else until she slid her fingers along his biceps. “And you’d be surprised, the women back in New York can be brutal. But, since you assaulted me with cheap rum, I insist on having your name so I can warn everyone about the crazy woman with the hatred for white clothes.”

New York? He’d sounded a bit like he was from the city but the accent had been subtle enough she hadn’t been sure. Definitely not from Brooklyn or the Bronx. Maybe if she played her cards right, she’d get a chance to find out which borough he called home.

She ducked her head, smiling. It had been far too long since a man caught her eye. On the rare occasion Kelsey or Eva dragged her out at night, it seemed all she found were Guidos with more brawn than brains or guys who were only visiting the Big Apple for a bite. A man had to really stand out for her to be willing to invest in a fling. Lucas had just brought up the city, which meant if they hit it off, there was the possibility of seeing him at home too, which was both thrilling and terrifying. Thrilling was definitely winning out, considering the voice and the body. The way she kept wanting to touch him again. And the shivers she kept tamping down.

Dear God, she was doomed.

Bring on the significant other to ruin everything
in ten…nine
…

And…he’d asked her name. If she kept staring at him, he was going to think she was an idiot. “Mercedes. Mercedes Vega.”

He winked at her before stepping toward the center of the ship. “Mercedes? I have to admit I’ve never driven one.”

Her cheeks heated, but she let the comment pass. Even if he was hitting on her—and she really hoped he was—she’d prefer to know he was actually available first. “Cute. I insist on apologizing for the drink though. Can I make it up to you by playing tour guide for you and your wife when we hit Mexico?”

He steered her up the stairs with his hand gently over hers, pinning it against the crook of his elbow. “There is no wife. No girlfriend. No…anything. So it’d be just the two of us, but I’d love to have you show me whatever you want.”

Okay, between the car comment and that, he could have come across as a bit too forward, but somehow on him it seemed…innocent, playful even. Or maybe she just needed the kind of no-strings-attached fling he promised. The fact he was single added one more point in his favor. And the suggestive banter had her piqued to learn something deeper, like why the crinkles by his eyes lit his face when he smiled…or why he looked sad and lost the instant the expression slipped. She wanted to know
that
guy. He had more to him than just a promise of flirtation, and she was curious to discover what it was. Plus, there was something about him that had her feeling safe, like with her hand pressed against his arm nothing could hurt her—a refreshing change from the men she’d run across recently. The combination of all that yummy goodness was enough to make her play along and say, “Sounds perfect, but I may have to help you remedy your knowledge about foreign automobiles.” She glanced around. “Where are we going?”

He grinned, a move that made his beard even more wicked-looking than it had before. The pressure of his hand urged her forward. “Shopping.”

“For cars? I don’t think they sell those on board.”

“There’s only one Mercedes I’d consider at the moment, but I haven’t checked the mileage or kicked the tires. So no. We’re off to find me a new shirt.”

She barely noticed the throngs of people around them as they wandered. Kick the tires? Had he actually
said
that? It might’ve been funny, but…

And what the hell on the shopping? Her work for Better Todays had taught her that there were two types of rich people—those who earned their money and those who were handed everything. The first usually valued their wealth and used it wisely. The latter tended to feel entitled to it along with everything and everyone it could buy. She knew
that
sort far better than the first.

Which one was Lucas?

“It’s a cruise—you could always just take your shirt off and hang out by the pool.”

“Trying to get me naked already?”

It didn’t matter how much his brown eyes twinkled as he said it, heat still rushed to her face at the thought of him taking his clothes off for her. To hide her blush, she glanced around, looking anywhere but at Lucas. The ship rose above them for at least five or six decks that she could see, but here in the middle, it was as if someone had decided any good floating city needed a garden. Ivy wrapped up light posts and real, honest-to-God-on-a-Sunday trees stretched up to the crystalline blue of the sky above. With the high-end stores and elaborately decorated restaurants lining the edges of the area, it almost felt like New York—except for how clean everything was…and the size issue…and the moving floor.

Focus on the fact that there is a floor, Mercedes. No falling here
.

“One problem,” she pointed out, tipping her head toward the doors and realizing he hadn’t told her what she really wanted to know. “The shops are closed.”

“Oh ye of little faith.” Lucas stepped up to a door and rapped his knuckles on the glass. A clerk—a small blonde woman—strode up, shaking her head, but she stopped mid-motion, her eyes widening the tiniest bit. Ten seconds later, the door opened. Lucas waved Mercedes inside. “After you.”

…

Lucas turned his smile on the clerk, knowing full well what affect it
had on women—especially ones who knew who he was. If he didn’t already have a stunner on his arm, he might have collected on her reaction. As it was, he was far too interested in test-driving Mercedes to mess with the clerk. “I hate to bother you, but I had a bit of a rude introduction to a rum runner, and I’m in dire need of a new shirt.”

The blonde nodded, her head bobbing far too quickly and far too long. “I see that. Normally, I couldn’t help you until we set sail, but I think an exception in this case will be understood.”

“Fantastic. Just something simple. A T-shirt works.” The clerk bustled off, and he shifted his gaze to the woman at his side. Mercedes intrigued him more than he wanted to admit. He’d recognized her name immediately as the woman who’d won the raffle from the hospital fund-raiser. He’d originally thought the low-budget funds drive was a waste of time—especially since his company had planned to finance the majority of the project—but the public-relations team said community involvement in the building of the hospital was important. So he’d gone along with it, and when he’d seen the prize-winning cruise ship, he knew he had to explore it for himself. That Mercedes had, quite literally, run into him the first day on board was the kind of coincidence he refused to ignore.

She wasn’t immune to his flirting; that much was obvious by the way she’d barely hiccupped before verbally sparring with him, but the simple fact she didn’t have a clue who he was made her different than the type he usually attracted. Most women he met back in the city just saw the billionaire businessman, the heir to the Bellamy fortune, the guy on those damned “most eligible bachelors” lists and in
Page Six
often enough that they all knew what they were getting into. But not her. Mercedes only seemed to see
him
, like she wasn’t looking for what she could get out of him. It was…refreshing.

Of course it didn’t hurt that she was an absolutely stunning creature. Long black hair and naturally bronze skin that looked like it would be silk under his fingers. And those curves leading to a narrow waist.