Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (11 page)

Sighing, she relaxed against him, gave herself over to his ministrations. “Okay. I’m beginning to see the merits of a hot bath.”

“I thought you might.” He rinsed her off, kissing her neck, caressing her breasts, as they gazed out into the night. The light of a moon almost full, kissed the black waters of the Mediterranean.

“Beautiful,” she breathed.

“Yes. But not as beautiful as you.” His hand slipped between her legs.

“You know, I’ve never had sex in a bathtub.”

“Then, sugar, we’d better rectify that travesty right quick.”

Chapter 9

The next morning, Nathan followed Laura into the ship’s casual dining room for breakfast before disembarkation into Monte Carlo for the day. He’d quickly broken his one and only rule about sleeping over.

He woke that morning, Laura in his arms, legs intertwined, butt nestled against his morning hard-on. He’d put that to use before she could even open her eyes. Yessiree, what a way to start the morning.

When they were seated at a table for two, Laura leaned over and whispered to Nathan, “Is it me, or is everyone looking at us?”

Nathan glanced around. “No. I think you’re right. Everyone is looking at us.”

Laura glanced down at her chest.

“What are you doing?”

“Just checking to make sure the girls hadn’t popped out to say hello.”

Nathan chuckled. “Sugar, if your, er, girls had popped out to say hello, rest assured I’d be the first to greet them.”

“Such a gentleman.”

“You know it.”

After
placing their order, Nathan handed his menu to the waiter. “While you were drying your hair, I had the concierge make reservations at Le Louis XV for dinner tonight. Thought a double-oh-seven evening of martinis and gambling suited Monte Carlo.”

“Look at you, going all cruise director on me.”

“What”—he pulled back—“that doesn’t sound fun to you?”

“It does. It sounds intriguing.” The thought of seeing Nathan in a tux made her toes curl. He did more for a man’s suit than Armani. Nathan in a tux—well, it was beyond words.

“Did you bring an evening gown?”

“Please.” She waved her hand as if he’d asked if she’d brought her toothbrush. “Of course I brought an evening gown.”

The waiter delivered their breakfast, and Nathan dug into his eggs benedict. “What would you like to do today?”

“What? No itinerary? You’re falling down on the job.”

He lifted a brow. “My time was otherwise occupied, if you’ll remember.”

“That’s no excuse.” But Laura remembered quite well how he’d occupied his time. In the shower. Lathering her all over. Before pinning her against the shower wall, and—

“Well, I understand there are some beautiful museums in Monte Carlo, if you’re so inclined.” The knowing look in his eyes as he gazed into hers told her, her trip down memory lane was written all over her face.

“Sure. I could use a day of culture.”

Museumed-out, she a
nd Nathan boarded the ship to change for dinner.

“I don’t know about you, but if I have to look at another piece of Grace Kelly memorabilia, I’m going to poke my eyes out.”

Nathan’s rich laugh sent quivers of delight up her spine, and she couldn’t resist the urge to tug him beneath the ship’s exterior stairs for a quick grope session.

She tangled her fingers in his hair and drew his lips down to hers.

His hands glided up her butt to the small of her back, where they slipped beneath her blouse.

Leaning into him, she pressed her breasts against his chest, as her hands slid down his back to his fine ass. “Um, your butt’s buzzing.”

“Hmm?”

“Your butt. It’s buzzing.”

“Ignore it. I intend to.” He changed the angle of the kiss, and before long Nathan’s butt wasn’t the only thing buzzing. Now she had a delicious little foreplay buzz going.

“I’ll come by your room at six-thirty.”

“Or we could go back to my room now,” she purred, running her fingers up his chest.

“You said you had some emails to handle for the gala.”

“Party-pooper. We’ll pick up where we left off.”

“Looking forward to it.”

Before tackling those aforementioned emails, some about the gala, some about work, she laid out the evening dress she’d packed for just such an occasion—dinner and gambling at the Monte Carlo casino. The halter style dress in classic black made her appear even taller than her five-foot eight inches, and emphasized her curves. The pair of strappy silver Manolo’s and a Judith Leiber handbag in the shape of a Fabergé egg finished off the ensemble. Other than a pair of diamond stud earrings, she’d go
sans
jewelry tonight.

Her phone buzzed. Seeing a text from Katie, she frowned.

CAREFUL. THERE’S A SPY ONBOARD.

WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT
? Laura texted back.

SOMEONE FROM HAWK MEDIA IS ONBOARD.

Damn.
She paced into the living area, scanning through the passengers she’d encountered so far, and discarding them without a second thought. Most were well-past retirement age—too old to be with Hawk Media. And any person with Hawk Media wouldn’t be traveling first class. Another reason she’d booked the penthouse.

Closing her eyes and tapping her temples to focus her thoughts, she skidded to a halt. “No!” Nathan. He was the right age. She didn’t know what his accommodations were, but he traveled alone, like herself.

Could she be sleeping with the enemy?
Damn.
That would really suck if she couldn’t hook up with him again. Then again, what was that saying,
Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer?
Couldn’t get much closer than having wild . . . scorching sex . . . all night long.

No. That’s a win-at-all-costs tactic her father would use. And she wasn’t her father. If Nathan proved to be the enemy, no more sex. Which would be a damned shame, since it was the best sex she’d ever had. And considering how much sex she’d had, that was saying something.

Focus, Laura.
Returning to her dissection of Nathan as the potential enemy, she recalled his Cartier watch. The cut of his suits. The Italian leather shoes. Hermès ties. His ad exec salary might cover such expenses, but his rent in New York would eat up a chunk of it. He didn’t strike her as careless with his money. Plus, she hadn’t heard anything about Hawk Media hiring someone new.

Still. He stayed on her list of potential candidates until another more suitable candidate won out.

Pacing again, she continued her passenger inventory. “Wait a minute.” The middle-aged guy with glasses. He’d chatted her up a few times. “What was his name?” George? Gary? Something with a ‘G.’ Greg? Greg. That’s it.

He’d asked her several probing questions about her experience on the trip so far. How she liked her stateroom. What she thought of the food. Whether the service met her expectations. She’d also seen him carrying an electronic tablet around with him. Not very subtle. But then again, maybe he hadn’t expected to encounter his competition on the ship.

She recalled his wedding ring. That tipped the scales in his favor. A married man on a cruise alone meant a) He was on the prowl, in which case, he’d remove his wedding ring, or b) He was traveling for work. “Ding, ding, ding, ding. We have a winner.”

She texted Katie back. THANKS FOR THE HEADS UP. I THINK I’VE FIGURED OUT WHO.

Momentarily her phone buzzed again. DAMN YOU’RE QUICK.

DAMN RIGHT, she texted back. Too much was riding on this account not to be all-in. She’d just keep an eye on Greg.

The Casino de Monte Carlo teemed with tourists and jetsette
rs alike, of all nationalities. The palatial landmark, with all the opulence and grandeur of the
Belle Époque,
took Nathan by surprise. The movies he’d seen didn’t come close to capturing the sumptuous decor, gilded details, and crystal chandeliers. Outside, they’d passed cars that cost more than his annual salary with pedigrees like Mercedes, Bentley, Rolls, Maserati, and Ferrari.

He paused to take it all in, trying not to act the star-struck yokel that he was.

“Oh, look. There’s Roger Moore,” Laura said, as if she rubbed elbows with famous actors who were Knights of the British realm all the time.

“Double-oh-seven himself,” Nathan murmured. “Is that—” He pointed to a leggy blonde to their right.

“Yes. That’s her,” Laura said, talking about the
Sports Illustrated
swimsuit-model-turned-actress.

“Well, I’ll be.”

“She’s beautiful if you like that sort of . . . perfection.”

“Did I say she was beautiful? She pales in comparison to you.” He pulled her close, and nuzzled her neck, savoring her shiver and sharp intake of breath. She smelled warm, feminine, and sophisticated. Erotic.

“Good answer,” she murmured.

When he’d picked her up from her suite, her beauty had overwhelmed him. She’d skipped her favored sleek ponytail for loose flowing waves that spilled over her shoulders and down her back. He’d wanted to fist his hands in that sexy bedroom hair, bury his face in it, let it fall like a curtain around them as she rode him into oblivion.

Later, he’d told himself. Something to look forward to. Her dress fit her like a glove, the slit up the side revealing a leg he couldn’t wait to feel wrapped around him again as he buried himself deep inside her.

Groaning, he retreated to whisper in her ear, “Sugar, I’m of a mind to take you to the nearest dark corner and show you just how gorgeous I think you are.”

“You keep calling me sugar, and I’ll lead the way.”

Chuckling, he took her hand and guided her toward the Le Bar Américain for a drink before checking out the casinos.

They’d dined at Le Louis XV
in the Hôtel de Paris on a meal so sublime Nathan doubted he would ever experience its like again. Pulling out all the stops, they’d ordered caviar and Mediterranean sea bass, indulged in poached pear, with lavender honey
crémeux
and emulsion for dessert, and gone through two bottles of wine.

He’d winced when he received the bill, and felt a stab of guilt at the money he was spending. If Hawk didn’t fire him when he received the credit card bill, it would be a miracle. Good thing Laura had Rule Number Five about paying her way. The gentleman in him didn’t like it, but with the mortgages on the farm, he’d cut back on his spending, no new suits or shoes, no new Hermès ties, and her dinner was one expense he could do without.

Enough of that.
According to his grandmother, life’s too short for regrets.
Tonight was a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.
Enjoy it.

Le Bar Américain
boasted an elegant ambiance with soft lighting, leather-upholste
red armchairs, rich wood, and live piano music.

Laura approached the bartender and ordered a Cosmo.

“Sir, what can I get you?” the bartender asked Nathan.

“A martini—shaken, not stirred.”

Laura groaned, and the bartender rolled his eyes.

“I’ve always wanted to say that.” A roguish grin spread across Nathan’s face.

“Like he hasn’t heard
that
before.”

“I wish I had a euro for every time I’ve heard it,” the bartender returned in a heavy French accent. “I’d be living on the French Riviera by now.”

Laura stepped back and gave Nathan a once-over. Damn, if he didn’t look scrumptious in a tux. She patted his rock hard chest, “You could give James Bond a run for his money.” She tilted her head. “Maybe instead of the traditional British spy, they should consider a southern James Bond. Shake things up a bit.”

“And instead of a martini, he could drink a mint julep,” Nathan replied with a grin.

“Yeah, something like that.” She shook her head.

“What should we try our luck at tonight? Roulette? Black Jack? Craps?”

“Hmm.” She sipped from her Cosmo. “Why do we have to choose?”

“Good point.”

A short time later, they stepped into the noise and buzz of the casino. Laura’s gaze drifted over some of the world’s most glamorous people. Movie stars rubbed elbows with royalty. Rock stars partied with business moguls. The tourists were easy to spot. Mouths agape, eyes wide, pointing out this notable personage or that diamond-studded neck.

She cut a glance at her escort, as he placed a hand at the small of her back, directing her to a just-vacated Black Jack table. Nathan Maxwell held his own. He possessed a quiet confidence. Nothing flashy, but nothing to be ignored either. Polite. Polished. Debonair.

She couldn’t help notice the way women looked at him when he entered a room. And the man knew his way around a woman’s body, too. She could attest to that. Yessiree, her dry spell was over and in a big way.

Nathan stood at the craps table in the Salle des Amériques, an ever-growing stack of
cheques
in front of him. “Give me a kiss for luck.” She’d kissed him before every roll of the dice, and it seemed to by paying off. Why stop now? “Come on, baby needs a new pair of shoes.” Or in his case, sister needs two mortgages paid off.

“Seven!” the stickman called.

The crowd that had formed around the table cheered, and he cupped Laura’s neck, hauling her in for another deep steamy kiss.

They’d played Black Jack first, and Laura had won a few hundred dollars, while Nathan had lost nearly the same amount, then they’d moved on to roulette, where she’d promptly lost her winnings. Lady Luck finally smiled on Nathan at the craps table.

Eyeing the stack of
cheques
on the table, he’d decided not to push Lady Luck’s generosity, and called in his winnings, to the disappointment of the crowd. He figured he’d won close to ten thousand euros. While it wouldn’t pay off the mortgages, it might keep the wolves at bay for a time. He’d wire the money to his sister at his earliest convenience.

Tipping the boxman, he and Laura gathered his
cheques
to cash them. Folding the check the casino paid him with and slipping it into his jacket pocket, he guided Laura out of the casino, into the cool night air.

“What a way to end the evening,” Laura said, laughing, her eyes bright.

“Sugar, this evening isn’t even close to over. I’ve got a few more things in mind.”