All the Pretty Poses (10 page)

“That’s not a fantasy. That’s a train
wreck.”

“Wow, you don’t sound bitter at all,” he
mocks with a smile. “I take it you two knew each other before?”

I feel my guard come up, like it always does.
“Something like that.”

“Well, maybe that’ll give you an advantage.
You’re sure going to need one. I’ve never seen that man not get
what he wants. What
or who
.”

I give Brian my brightest smile as he relaxes
back and then leans into me again. “Well, maybe this’ll be good for
him.”

“This oughtta be interesting,” he replies.
“And you know I’ll want all the details.”

“I’m not really a details person,” I admit
candidly. “Not that there will be any details to discuss.”

“This is a long trip. And a small ship.
You’ll need a friend. Trust me.”

I just smile, letting the conversation die.
And just in time, too. Brian and I both look toward the door when
we hear it open a few seconds later. Reese strides in, looking
refreshed and gorgeous as ever in his snug white t-shirt and black
shorts. I’ve never forgotten what great legs he has—muscular, tan,
not too hairy.

He nods at Brian and shoots me that
bone-melting smile of his. And, of course, my bones melt. Then I
become irritated. I hate that I react to him the way I do, but try
as I might, I can’t seem to stop it.

With determination, I turn my attention back
to Brian. “What were you saying?” I ask politely, keeping my eyes
trained on his, even though it’s all I can do not to watch Reese as
he crosses the room behind him.

Brian chuckles. “Yeah, that’s what I
thought.”

I give him a disdainful look and then we both
laugh. For another hour, Brian stretches and works my muscles
relentlessly, even more so than the personal trainer for
Exotique
. And for that hour, Reese watches. Every time I
sneak a peek at him, his eyes are on us, burning a hot path over
every inch of my body. And even though I’m not as overt, and even
though I hate that I do it, I find myself watching Reese, too. I
watch his muscles strain as he lifts and pushes and squeezes. I
watch his golden skin shift as he moves. I watch his lips purse as
he exhales. And, from the corner of mine, I watch his eyes devour
me.

When it’s finally time for Brian to cool me
down, my heart is racing and the sheen of sweat on my brow has
nothing to do with physical exertion. It’s like I’ve spent the last
hour being touched and caressed, being stripped bare and consumed
by Reese.

All from across the room.

I’m ready to bolt and get away from him when
Brian lets me go. I need space, distance. But I soon realize those
are two things I’m not likely to get when I’m stuck on a yacht in
the employ of Reese.

And when he makes no bones about wanting me
in his arms.

Evidently Reese doesn’t plan to give me much
of a reprieve from him. I’ve just had a shower and am sitting down
to some oatmeal in the crew kitchen area when Karesh enters. My
lips are puckered and I’m blowing on a hot spoonful when he stops
at the table.

“Are you finding everything you need, Ms.
Moore?”

I give him a smile and a nod. “I am, thank
you, Mr. Karesh,” I say with the spoon hovering near my mouth.

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, returning
my smile. “I’ve just come by to tell you that your presence has
been requested on the main deck for the day. A late breakfast will
be served if you’d like something else to eat. Be sure to wear your
swimsuit. You should have everything you need in your room, but if
you find that’s not the case, let me know immediately and I’ll see
to it that you have it within the hour.”

I simply nod and smile again, my mind already
racing over what this might mean for me.

Why am I being summoned? Who has requested my
company? What’s expected of me?

As though the questions are visible on my
face, Karesh touches my shoulder in a comforting way. “Don’t give
it too much thought. Just go and have fun. This
is
a
pleasure cruise after all.”

With a pat-pat-pat on my shoulder, Karesh
nods again before he turns to leave, as though his words explained
everything rather than making it worse.

A
pleasure
cruise? For whom? Because I
know
he can’t possibly mean for
me.
I’m here to work.
Nothing more.

It’s with growing unease that I dump out my
uneaten oatmeal, wash the bowl and make my way back to my room to
look through my overflowing closet. It’s not until I open the
built-in drawers at the bottom of the closet that I see, among
other things, the bathing suits Reese has so generously provided.
Of course, they’re much nicer than the ones that I brought,
although a couple are far more revealing than anything I’d ever be
caught dead in. I touch the sequined and intricately-painted suits,
debating on what to wear. My eyes keep returning to one with swirls
of teal and blue, like a peacock’s plumage. I take it out and flip
through the closet, finding a sheer floral top and matching short
sarong in shades of green and blue. I slip it on, noting the
perfect fit before I pile my hair on top of my head and push my
feet into jeweled green sandals. There were even sunglasses in one
drawer, so I grab a pair and slide them into place. If nothing else
they will hide my eyes from Reese.

I remember Brian’s instructions on how to get
outside from my room way up in the bow of the ship.
Left-right-left. Sure enough, it takes me directly to the doors
that lead to the top deck.

Reese is sitting at the covered bar area that
sits behind the small pool and hot tub. At either end are bowls and
platters, stacked and arranged and overflowing with food. Beside
him is Hemi. Sloane and Sig are sitting at the other end.

He notices me the instant I step outside.
He’s wearing sunglasses as well, but I would swear that I could
feel his eyes meet mine behind them. I watch him, admittedly
feeling a little breathless when his lips curve into a smile and he
rises and makes his way to me.

I can’t help but admire him—again—as he walks
in his lazy lion-like way. He’s wearing swim trunks in aqua, two or
three shades darker than his eyes, and a white shirt, unbuttoned to
reveal his wide chest and rippling abdominals. His hair is mussed
from the wind and his square jaw is covered in a day’s worth of
stubble. As amazing as he was as a young man, this Reese makes the
younger one look pathetic. He is nothing short of physical
perfection now.

With one big hand, Reese reaches for my
fingers, bringing my knuckles to his lips. “You look beautiful,” he
says softly, his thumb rubbing rhythmically up into the web between
my first and second finger. The action sends a little shiver
rippling through me and I stiffen against it.

Reese smiles, a devilish smile that makes me
wonder how he knows the way he affects me. Because he knows. I’m
certain of it.

I tug my fingers from his and force a smile
of my own. “So, why am I up here?”

“Because I want you up here.”

“To do what?” I know it’s a loaded question,
but I want Reese to spell it out for me. It makes me feel better to
be brazen and a bit difficult. It makes me feel strong and more in
control to take the bull by the horns. So to speak.

“To keep me company.”

“It looks like you’ve got plenty of company,”
I say, tipping my head to his family where they sit at the bar just
over his shoulder, pretending not to watch us.

“But they’re not the company that
I
want.”

“Is this part of my job?”

“Your job is to entertain the people on this
cruise. That includes me.”

I search his eyes. He’s enjoying this—having
me at his beck and call. And although some part of me thrills at
the idea, another part is shying away from him and the pain he once
caused me. But I remind myself that this is the means to an end.
What could be a
very good
end for me. With that in mind, I
give him a bright smile.

“Then lead the way.”

Reese makes no comment. He simply raises one
brow and sweeps one arm toward the breakfast buffet set up at the
bar. I take a deep breath and precede him, focusing on maintaining
my smile in the face of curious looks from Sloane and Hemi, and a
pleased one from Sig. But all the while, I can feel Reese’s eyes on
my back, warming me to my core.

********

All day, I’ve been treated like a princess.
I’ve been waited on hand and foot, I’ve eaten some of the most
amazing food imaginable, I’ve sipped some of the most delicious
cocktails on the planet, all while listening to the Spencers and
the Lockes tell stories about their life and their childhood. And
through it all, Reese has never been far from my side.

He’s barely let me out of his sight. He has
lounged beside me on the deck, played beside me in the pool, soaked
beside me in the hot tub and used every excuse under the sun to
touch me. And every time he does, I get a little less immune to
it.

Not that I was ever really immune to it. I’m
just finding it easier to see the boy that I fell in love with in
the eyes of the powerful man that he’s become.

We just finished a light afternoon snack of
fresh fruits and rich cheeses, accompanied by some sort of lemon
and coconut drink that has my head spinning lightly. That coupled
with the brightness and heat of the sun is making me feel sublimely
happy and a little drowsy.

Groggily, I lift my head from the padded
lounge chair when a shadow falls over me. It’s Reese. He’d excused
himself to go inside for a minute. And now he’s back.

“If you’re going to lie in the sun like that,
you need some sunscreen. You’re getting a little pink.”

“Oh,” I say, not too concerned. I’m dark
complected, so I don’t burn easily. “I’ll put some on in a few
minutes.”

Without another word, Reese turns and walks
back inside, returning a few seconds later with a white tube.
“Here,” he says, sitting on the edge of my chair at my waist, “let
me.”

It occurs to me that I should politely
decline, but it’s not a very persistent thought in the warm honey
that my mind has become, so I dismiss it easily. I watch Reese flip
open the cap and squeeze a glob of lotion onto his palm and then
rub his hands together. When his skin makes contact with mine, I
let the sigh in my chest escape in a light puff of air that the
wind carries away.

I close my eyes, lulled by the deep rumble of
Hemi’s voice as he talks to his girlfriend and her brother, as
Reese drags his fingers from my shoulder to my wrist, coating my
arm in a rich layer of cream. I feel the tickle of his side against
mine as he leans over me to give equal time to my right arm. After
a short pause, during which I can hear him opening and closing the
lotion tube, I feel his hand touch just below my throat as he rubs
the scented balm into my skin.

Reese’s palm strokes a slow path—much slower
than the ones he made over my arms—from left to right across my
chest. Back and forth, he inches his hand toward the top edge of my
bikini. My breath hitches in my throat the closer he gets.
Deliberately, he dips his fingers under the edge of the stretchy
material and skims the tops of my breasts. My eyes pop open when I
feel my nipples pucker into tight nubs.

I find Reese’s eyes trained on me. He’s not
watching what he’s doing or seeing how my body is reacting to him;
he’s watching me. He’s observing my reaction in my face, in the
tremble of my lips and the pink of my cheeks that I know is
there.

Without taking his eyes off mine, Reese
squeezes more lotion into his hand and sets his palm on my belly.
Again, his fingers flirt with the edge of my suit, teasing the
underside of my breasts and starting a throb between my legs. We
watch each other as he makes his way down my stomach, his skin
moving slickly over mine as he circles my navel.

His hand skates over the curve of my waist,
down toward my back on each side before crossing my belly again and
heading for the skimpy band of my bottoms. My muscles tighten when
Reese turns his hand, fingers pointing down, and slips the tips
under the material of my suit. I want to glance to my left to see
if the others are watching us, but I can’t pull my eyes away from
the fiery grip of his blue-green ones. I know Reese’s body hides
part of mine from the view of the others and something about that
makes my belly flutter with excitement.

I lick my dry lips when I see the knowledge
in Reese’s eyes. He knows that this is exciting me. He knows that
he
is exciting me.

“If we were alone, I’d put lotion on every
silky inch of your skin,” Reese whispers. I hear it like I have
super hearing, like my ears are attuned to his voice above every
other sound in the world. “Unless you’d like me to do it anyway. No
matter who’s watching.”

A wicked light flickers in his eyes and, for
the space of a single shaky breath, I consider letting him. But
then my foggy mind registers the sudden absence of other voices and
I realize that all other conversation has stopped.

With sheer force of will, I drag my eyes away
from Reese’s and glance at the trio sitting to my left. Hemi and
Sloane are smiling and looking at one another. Sig is wide-eyed and
focused on me.

“Damn, how’d I miss the sunscreen party? I’m
next,” he says with comical enthusiasm as he smacks his hands
together and goes to rise from his chair. Hemi and Sloane
laugh.

The moment is lost, so I wind my fingers
around Reese’s wide wrist and stop the movement of his hand. It’s
like grabbing a shaft of iron. I know that if Reese didn’t want to
stop, there’s nothing I could do about it. And the firm set of his
jaw confirms it. Yet he stops anyway, a show of respect for me and
my wishes. I can see the regret in his expression, though, a
sentiment that is reluctantly mirrored in my own. I make a mental
note to watch how much I drink around Reese. Evidently, I can’t
afford to let my guard down for one second.