Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

And promptly sank.

Torn between the natural urge to fight her way to the surface for air or stay submerged, safely away from charming sailor boys, she eventually floundered her way to the surface, spluttering and coughing and ruining her Esther Williams impersonation.

‘Need a hand?’

She glared at his outstretched hand and shook her head, deriving some satisfaction as water droplets sprayed his immaculate uniform.

‘No, thanks.’

His lips curved into a deliciously tempting smile. ‘You sure? Not tempted to try and pull me in?’

The thought hadn’t crossed her mind, but now he mentioned it maybe a good dunking would cool him off.

‘Not really. And I’m quite capable of hoisting myself out of the pool—if you’d move out of my way?’

‘I like a strong woman.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘You like women, period.’

‘What’s wrong with that? I’m a healthy red-blooded male.’

Her gaze drifted across his broad shoulders of its own volition, and lower, before snapping back to meet his all too sure of himself stare.

‘I’ll take your word for it.’

She pushed away from the side of the pool, treading water, floundering out of her depth physically and literally. Ever since she’d been silly enough to dare him that first night he’d been teasing her, pushing her for a reaction.

‘As much as I’m enjoying your mermaid impersonation, why don’t you come a little closer so we can have a proper chat?’

‘About…?’

‘Tonight. You and me.’

How did he do that? Infuse every word with mystery and mayhem and untold promise? As if his sexy smile and come-get-me eyes weren’t enough.

For the second time in as many minutes she went under, cursing her inability to be anything other than clumsy and inept in his presence. He unnerved her to the point of bumbling, and it was high time she got over this funk he had her in with his constant teasing. Either that or jump ship.

She breaststroked underwater to the side, and hauled herself up the pool ladder. ‘Don’t say a word. Just hand me that towel, please.’

He was smart as well as good-looking, for he didn’t speak as he passed her the towel. Then again, he didn’t need to. His smug smile said it all.

He had her squirming, wanting to match wits with him, wishing she could, but scared of the consequences. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage at the thought of what they might entail.

For some strange reason he’d fixated his charms on her this cruise. Her—the last woman who’d reciprocate, the last woman to put up with his nonsense, the last woman to dally with if that was his intention.

She wasn’t a dallying type of girl, yet with him staring at her with a twinkle in those deep blue eyes it was hard not to wish she was.

‘Aren’t you at all interested to hear what I have in mind for you and me tonight?’

Oh, she was interested all right—interested to the point she’d almost drowned when he’d strung the words you, meand tonight into the same sentence.

Tying her sarong around her waist, having quickly patted herself dry, she aimed for casual. ‘I’m sure you’ll tell me.’

He chuckled. ‘Nice to see you this wound up. It must mean I’m getting somewhere in my quest to prove how much I like you.’

‘I’m not wound up.’

She finished tying the knot at her waist with an extra hard yank, almost cutting off her circulation in the process.

‘No?’

He sent a pointed stare at the twisted mess she’d made of her sarong, and she stopped fiddling with it, crossing her arms instead.

Bad move, considering the wicked gleam in his eyes as he dragged them away from her cleavage.

‘I just wanted to make sure you’re coming to the Island Banquet. You won’t want to miss it.’

‘That good, huh?’

‘Better.’

His lowered tone indicated he wasn’t just talking about the banquet. See, this was where she struggled. She had no idea if he was being clever or flirty or deliberately naughty—no idea how to respond without sounding repressed and uptight or foolishly naïve.

‘Well, then, I look forward to seeing your prowess at organising events.’

‘I’m sure you won’t be disappointed with my prowess.’

He took a step towards her and ran his hand lightly down her arm. She shivered, tiny goosebumps crawling across her skin as she belatedly realised she’d given him the upper hand yet again.

‘That’s a promise.’

Oh, he was good—too good. She should just hoist her white flag up the main pole now in surrender.

He’d won. He’d bombarded her with enough smooth moves and clever words to prove he liked her. Though it was just a game to him, and she knew it. Then why the urge to ignore her head, the logical part of her that she always listened to, the part telling her to jump ship now before she was sucked into believing any of this was real?

‘See you tonight.’ His husky tone washed over her like a warm wave, soft, soothing, seductive, and he grazed her arm in a fleeting touch before walking away, leaving her helpless and yearning and cursing her inexperience with men more than ever.

Lana needed a shot of confidence, and in the absence of a ballroom dancing class she settled for a squirt of that frivolous perfume.

Considering her hand still shook as she pulled a brush through her hair it hadn’t worked and she contemplated staying in and ordering Room Service rather than face another inevitable encounter with Zac.

Her nerves were shredded. She couldn’t pretend to be someone she wasn’t, and standing up to his incessant beguiling barrage could wear her down eventually. She couldn’t handle that.

As she strolled towards the huge marquee about a mile from the ship, where the banquet was being held, the warm trade winds ruffled the hair at the nape of her neck. She knew wearing a new perfume and hoping it would give her poise while under duress was wishful thinking.

Fear settled in the pit of her stomach. Pep-talks to herself, telling her to stay cool and not let him rattle her, were fine in the confines of her cabin, but how would she stand up under pressure from his persistent charm?

Smoothing her old formal dress with nervous hands, she entered the marquee, where suspended fairy lights created a magical effect as they reflected in the water. Tables lined the outskirts, heavily laden with local seafood delicacies, salads and decadent desserts, and she tried not to drool. Easy, considering a certain sailor boy was nowhere in sight.