The Pleasure Trip

Sex-starved lunatic that she was, she actually moved her hand away to let him take over the task. For a nanosecond.

“Wait.” She slapped her hand back on the half-formed knot, dismayed to find his fingers already there. And she was already turned on. Her legs that had been shaking from the performance quivered a little more. Just from this man’s proximity. Amazing.

“What?” His voice was too close. He was too close.

Rita reminded herself she was not the impulsive sister. She was the rock. The stabilizer in her family since she’d pulled her first babysitting gig when she’d been eight and Jayne seven. Rita prided herself on being the only Frazer female not driven by her hormones.

Although in this man’s case that seemed hard to remember.

“I can get it. And I don’t even know you, so I have no intention of letting you dress me.”

He slid his hand out from under hers, although he didn’t remove it altogether. Instead, the warmth of his fingers drifted fleetingly along her shoulder underneath her hair for a moment as she finished tying her shirt into place. The touch was so light she could almost think she’d imagined it.

“I’m Harrison Masters and I run a resort called Masters Inn on the outskirts of Naples.”

“Rita Frazer.” She found herself extending her hand to shake his, even though she didn’t normally fraternize with passengers. But maybe just this once she deserved a little reward for her efforts since she’d gone above and beyond duty by dancing Jayne’s number. She hadn’t even been able to stick around to meet with the Roman Cruise Lines executives to ensure they were pleased with her costumes.

“Nice to meet you, Rita.” His smile created crinkles around his endlessly blue eyes. His hand engulfed hers, the warmth of his fingers stroking the heel of her palm, the sensitive inside of her wrist where her pulse throbbed with awareness. “I hope you don’t mind me following up on our connection during your show.”

“Umm.” She backed up against the rail as an older couple shuffled past them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He leaned against the rail while the ship cruised easily through open water, crossing his legs at the ankle as if he had all night. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one engaged in the long, hot looks out there.”

She hesitated, knowing she could hardly deny her unusual behavior. “Sorry about all the long, hot looks.”

“Don’t be sorry on my account. I’m a gentleman and all, and I’ll leave now if I misinterpreted the staring. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“I was staring at you. But not for the reason you probably thought.”

“Meaning you didn’t hope I’d come backstage to proposition you?” He shook his head, his broad shoulders slumping just a bit. “Damned if my dating skills aren’t getting rusty.”

She remembered him peeling the label off his beer bottle before she came out onstage and felt a twinge of empathy. If he’d given her a hard-sell pitch to have a drink with him, she could have blown him off in a heartbeat. But she hated to think she’d led him on.

“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”And God knows, she’d thought about jumping him the moment she laid eyes on him. “I just got into a bit of a pickle with the whole dancing thing and I needed a focus—”

“No need to explain.” He held up his hand to halt her, a flash of regret in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “It’s not your fault and I’m just going to get out of your way so you can—”

“Wait.” Rita’s heart pounded with the need to explain. Or maybe she just didn’t want to let him go. After the day she’d had, Harrison Masters seemed like a lifeline, a rare opportunity to enjoy herself for a few stolen hours since she probably wouldn’t have any luck tracking down the partying newlyweds until dawn at the earliest. Maybe she could forget about being practical just this once. “On second thought, a man with rusty dating skills might be just my speed. You want to get a drink?”

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER, Harrison guided Rita toward the uppermost deck of the ship under a fat full moon and had to admit maybe his dating savvy wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. At the very least, he was right to follow the attraction to see where it led because he’d had more fun getting to know her over drinks tonight than he’d ever had in a crowded bar.

“I never date,” Rita blurted as they strolled side by side around the running track on the small, nearly vacant deck.

“Never?” Harrison had discovered speaking her mind was part of her unusual charm, a part he appreciated greatly since he’d never been much for decoding the complicated thought processes employed by women. “I’m positive that’s not because of a lack of offers. Your line of work must bring you a lot of attention.”

“Not exactly.” She slowed down as they reached the forward curve of the rail where they could see six other larger decks sprawled out below them.

From their perch they could see conga dancing around the pool, a teen disco party on another deck and an Irish pub night around one of the other outdoor bars where revelers all wore shiny green plastic leprechaun hats.

Her hedging answer made him wary to press further. “I totally get it if you don’t want to talk about your love life. I’m just glad to be here with you, Rita, because I don’t take much time off to hang out and relax. I’ve had a great time tonight.”

Rita looked too good to contemplate with only a couple of inches separating them. She tossed her thick red curls over her shoulder, releasing the apple scent of her shampoo. She flicked her fingernail gently against her wineglass, creating a soft ringing sound.

“It’s not that. We just got to talking about so many other things downstairs, I forgot to explain to you—” She stopped herself. “I never even told you about the staring thing onstage, either, did I? I got a little nervous before I went out and I thought it would help calm me down if I had a focus point.”

“I was your focus point?” He settled at the rail next to her, enjoying the way their hideaway isolated them while giving them a view of so much of the ship. “And just what is a focus point, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“I think it’s a meditation aid or something. My mom told me she used one to help get her through childbirth after the doctor told her Valium wasn’t an option, so I guess I adopted it for other painful experiences. I’m not even really a showgirl. But I was covering for someone.” She shrugged, a flirtatious grin playing about her fuchsia painted lips. “Worked like a charm for me.”

Her brown eyes glided over him, the bold stare at odds with her light words. Only an idiot wouldn’t make a move after a night that couldn’t get much more romantic. Then again, why rush something great when he was enjoying every second in her company? He wasn’t twenty years old.

“It worked damn well for me, too. That costume you wore—” he’d be seeing rhinestones in his dreams for the rest of his life “—I’ve never seen anything like it. You’d never know you weren’t supposed to be onstage. From where I was sitting, you looked like you were born to do high kicks.”

“You liked the outfit?” For some reason, the notion seemed to really please her.

“I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget it.”

“I made it.” She finished off the last of her wine and set the glass at her feet. “I’m the ship seamstress but that kind of sewing doesn’t really scratch the creative itch, so I created a lot of the costumes for the show tonight.”

Intrigued by this newly exposed facet of Rita, Harrison figured there would be no time like the present to reveal he wasn’t a resort manager. But was it so much to ask to have one perfect night in his life? One date that wasn’t overshadowed by his work the way so many other dates had been?

“I’m no sewing expert, but I don’t think I need to be to guess you must be talented.” Reaching to skim her bare arm with his fingers he settled his hand on her shoulder and simply savored the feel of her.

“Thank you.” She shrugged, but somehow the movement seemed to bring her closer. Had he stepped nearer or had she? “For the compliment and for—” she waved her hand vaguely “—this. Tonight. It’s been fun.”

Even though he only touched a few square inches of her smooth flesh, Harrison could feel her heart pounding, could sense the hot rush of blood through her veins. He would have never guessed he could deduce a woman’s attraction so keenly, but he felt hers in every pore of his flesh.

Almost simultaneously he realized he hadn’t been this tuned in to his ex-girlfriend—Sonia. God, he had deserved to be given the boot. But he wouldn’t let past regrets rob him now.

In fact, he welcomed the chance to think about something other than the past few months. Not that any red-blooded man could do much thinking at the moment. Cupping Rita’s bare shoulder in his palm, he made up his mind to seize the moment.

“Trust me, the pleasure has been all mine.” Leaning close, he watched the way her tongue ran round the rim of her lips and his throat went dry.

Without a single thought to practicality, he slanted his mouth over hers and gave her the kiss he’d been thinking about all night.

CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_fbf29c31-35b5-5456-b8aa-fb128df5b149)

JAYNE MANSFIELD FRAZER HAD never believed in luck, preferring to think life handed out plenty of opportunities for those smart enough to make something of them.

So she could hardly blame a run of bad luck now, when her fiancé for all of twelve hours failed to show for their appointed rendezvous outside St. Kitts’ “Island Dreams” gift shop, which just so happened to double as a wedding chapel for eager—or stupidly impulsive—couples.

No, Jayne couldn’t blame anything or anyone but herself for the farce of her plan to elope with Horatio. Even when it started to rain—big, fat earnest drops that meant a serious tropical downpour was on the way—she refused to whine and curse her fate. She tucked deeper under the overhang of the store’s sheltered front porch, her shoulder scraping a blinking neon swordfish mounted on one wall, thinking there wasn’t anyone around to whine to anyway. The whole tiny tourist town shut down once the Venus pulled out of the harbor, taking all of its spendthrift passengers with it and leaving Jayne no place to go tonight.

Nope. She was certain she’d figure out something. Find some hint of opportunity to turn this watery night from hell around and help her get back to the boat before it hit Barbados. Or before her sister hunted her down and kicked Jayne’s tail from one end of the island to the other.

But as she stepped off the protected wooden porch of Island Dreams to get a better look at the small assortment of St. Kitts storefronts for any sign of life, two things happened which convinced Jayne to rethink her stance on bad luck.