All the Pretty Poses
Page 8

He gives me an engaging smile as he walks past me to deposit my suitcase on the bed. He turns, dusting off his hands, and winks at me. “Welcome aboard, Dorothy. You’re not in Kansas anymore.”
I’m surprised when he kisses my cheek on his way back out the door. I’m sure I’m wearing an expression that says as much as he closes the door behind himself, leaving me standing in the middle of my new room, pondering his strangely familiar behavior.
In the quiet moments following his departure, I realize three things about Brian. One, I don’t think he meant anything derogatory by the Dorothy comment. Two, something in my gut tells me he’s gay. And three, I like him already. That seemingly-innocuous trio of tiny details puts me at ease and gives me a better outlook on the coming summer than any I’ve had so far.
Finding someone that I can be friends with has never been easy for me. Trust issues aside, I’m reserved right up to the moment I feel very comfortable in someone’s presence, which makes it difficult for people to get to know and like me. It’s something I learned long ago and have come to terms with. It’s also something that has made me appreciate those who I can call “friend,” those who gave me a chance, who stuck it out until I loosened up. They’ve turned out to be some of the best people I’ve had the good fortune of filling my life with, and I treasure them. It’s probably no coincidence that they’re all older people, like Tanny, Malcolm and Clive. I get the feeling that I’ll soon be adding the much-younger Brian to that list, though. And I’d like nothing more than to be right. We’ll see how that goes. But for now, he’s managed to make me feel welcome and at ease, and I desperately needed that.
I go about getting settled in my room, quickly discovering that there are all sorts of interesting uses of space, like storage for instance. There are drawers tucked under the bed and under the sink, which is a good thing. I didn’t bring that much stuff, but I wouldn’t have enough room to store it all if I’d been given one of the group rooms, especially once I see that the closet is full of clothes already.
I can only assume they are for me. Not only are they brand new and all in my size, but they look like things I’d wear to dance. My style exactly. Whoever Reese has working for him is very good!
Among the costumes, though, are some beautiful gowns and very nice formal wear. I don’t know what I’m expected to wear the items for, but I suppose someone will tell me when the time comes. For all I know, Reese may have his service staff wear things like that. On a boat like this, nothing would surprise me.
But for tonight, my first night on board with no idea what to expect at dinner, I dress in something of my own—a pair of soft moleskin pants in chocolate and a sleeveless blouse in cream. It’s the kind of outfit that can be worn in a wide variety of situations without making me stand out.
I brush out my hair until it hangs in shiny waves around my shoulders and give my lips a fresh coat of gloss. Other than that, I’m going as is. I have no one to impress.
After only five minutes of being cooped up in my tiny room with a window that I can’t see out of unless I stand on the bed, I’m already too fidgety to stay here until dinner time. I decide to go up to one of the open-air decks to enjoy the view instead.
I make three wrong turns getting from where my room is in the forward-most part of the ship to where I thought the steps were that lead to the upper decks. Luckily, one of my wrong turns leads me to a set of steps that end up in the kitchen where Brian just happens to be standing, talking to a man whom I assume is the chef. His tall, puffy hat and long white apron are dead giveaways.
Brian smiles as soon as I appear in the doorway just beyond the long, stainless steel table at which they stand. He’s going over a list of foods as the chef winds long, thin strips of dough into spirals.
“Well, look at you,” he says pleasantly, bestowing upon me another of his winning, yet markedly un-sexually-interested smiles.
“I think I’m lost. I was actually going up to one of the decks to take in some fresh air before dinner.”
“Good for you. Enjoy it while you can. Once the clients are on board, you won’t be able to hang around up there. You’ll be getting cozy with the rest of us in the trenches.”
I get a sinking sensation in the pit of my stomach just thinking about spending the next three months locked away in a tiny, airless room in the bow of a ship. But I hide that beneath the small, placid smile that I’ve learned to permanently affix to my face.
“Oh. Okay.”
“Unless they’re off the ship in port.”
“Okay.”
“Or unless you’re requested by one of them. They get whatever they want, of course, even if it’s the company of a particular employee for the night.”
“For the night?” A tiny niggle of alarm sweeps through me. Surely that doesn’t mean what it sounds like it means.
“Well, for the evening. Anything beyond that is a…personal decision, not a work requirement.”
“Oh. Okay,” I say a third time, slowly exhaling my relief.
“But you made one too many lefts. You should’ve taken a left-right-left coming out of your room, not a left-left-left.”
“So I should go back down the stairs and—”
“Girl, that’s too much trouble. Just go out that door,” he says, pointing to a larger door across the room from where we stand, “and you’re in the bar. There will be exits leading to the deck on your left.”
I nod my thanks and make my way outside, even more determined to enjoy the experience and the scenery since it might be my only chance for a while. I’ve never been on a cruise, or on a boat at all actually, so this is a first—but hopefully not a last—for me.
I walk to the furthest point on the bow of the ship and lean into the V of the railing. The wind is warm and brisk, the sun shines on my face as it sets and all I can hear is the spraying sound of the wake as the boat cuts through the water. When I turn my head and look far to the left and scan the horizon all the way around to my right, I’m floored by how small and insignificant I feel. As far as I can see, there is nothing visible but miles and miles of ocean. It’s both humbling and breathtaking. And maybe a little bit intimidating.
I lean over the rail a bit to look down at the front of the yacht where it stands still so far above the surface of the water. That’s when I see them.
I gasp. Six dolphins jump and play in the water just ahead of the ship, as if daring the boat to touch them, but the boat dares not.
The orange light bounces off their pale gray bodies, glistening brightly as they make their brave arc in front of the yacht. With their mouths open as they squeak to one another, it looks like they’re smiling at me as they breach the water for an instant and then disappear two seconds later. I’m barely aware of the delighted laugh that bubbles up in my chest and spills from my lips.
“Amazing, aren’t they?” a deep, familiar voice says at my ear. Immediately, I stiffen, the smile dying from my lips and my heart doubling its beats per minute.
I turn my head to find Reese nearly pressed to my back. In the dying sun, golden highlights shine in his hair and his eyes sparkle like aquamarines of the highest quality. For a moment, I’m tempted to count every inky lash that rims his exotic eyes, but the flash of his brilliant smile takes my breath away and reminds me that I’m playing with fire of the most dangerous kind. I can’t lean away; there’s nowhere to go. My only option is to ignore him and return my attention to the view I was enjoying.
But there’s no ignoring Reese when he wants to be noticed. He leans into me ever-so-slightly, imprinting the firm muscles of his chest, the flat plane of his belly and the hard length of his thighs on every surface of my back side that he touches.
“This is the most incredible view in the entire world,” he whispers, his inflection matching the pressure of his body, making me think he’s referring to me rather than the natural wonders surrounding us.
“I’m sure you’re accustomed to beautiful scenery like this.”
“I’ve seen some of God’s most stunning creations, but this one has always been special to me.”
I don’t dare let him lull me with his charming ways. That ended badly once and he still has yet to even explain it, much less apologize for it.
Not that there’s anything he could say to make what happened okay.
My thoughts trigger a burst of anger. I spin inside his arms, pushing away from the rail until he gives and steps back. “Well, this is a first for me, so I’d like to enjoy it while I’m allowed up here, if you don’t mind.”
With that, I march right back the way I came, circling to the other end of the deck rather than going back inside. I half expect Reese to follow me, but the next voice I hear belongs to Sig.
“I don’t know what’s more beautiful—this view or you.”
I turn to find him standing behind me, hands in the pockets of his black slacks, dark hair blowing in the breeze. His grin is as playful and light as ever, immediately putting me as ease.
“Wow, you get many girls with lines like that?” I ask with a smile of my own.
“This is the first chance I’ve had to try that one out. How’s it working so far?”
I hold out my hand and see-saw it back and forth. “Meh.”
“Then tell me, O Aloof One, how does a guy like me impress a woman like you?”
“Why would you want to?”
“Because you’re gorgeous and mysterious and you dance like you’re dancing just for me. You fascinate me. Do I need to go on?”
I’m very flattered and I don’t really know what to say, but, as usual, the stand-offish Kennedy who learned to function in self-preservation mode from a very early age rises up. “I dance like that for everyone. It’s my job.”
Rather than being offended or acting like a typical man with wounded pride, Sig grins. “Hell, I know that, but you don’t have to ruin it for me. I’m a man. A big one. With a big ego. Let me think it’s all for me, woman,” he teases.
I laugh. “Fine, fine. It was all for you.”
He nods and grins at me. “That’s a little more like it.”
Sig moves in closer to me, staring down into my eyes for a few seconds before he turns to stand at my side, offering me his arm. “Shall we?”
With an exaggerated shake of my head and roll of my eyes, I curl my hand under his elbow and let him lead me through another door that empties into the rotunda and main dining area. The first thing I see when I step over the threshold is Reese, standing at the other end of the room, talking with Brian and glaring at me.
Even in his aggravation, just the sight of him is enough to make my stomach flip over. He’s so gorgeous, still so much the guy who turned my heart and my world upside down—dark hair that curls just a little around his collar, glittering eyes that see right through me, a jaw that makes my fingers itch to stroke it. And his lips…I’ve always thought Reese’s mouth was the most perfect God ever created. Turns out it’s part angelic, part evil. The evil part being the one that made me promises that he never intended to keep, of course.
As always when I get enthralled with the Reese that I loved so long ago, the hurt girl resurfaces to prevent me from making the same mistake twice. It’s her that gives him a frosty smile and turns her attention to Sig at my side. My grin gets deeper and more genuine, however, when, from the corner of my eye, I see Reese’s expression turn thunderous.
It makes me want to giggle.
Take that, you egomaniac!
My mood going into the dining room is generally lighter, even more so when I realize there are no seat assignments and I can sit wherever I want, which just so happens to be sandwiched between Sloane, who I really like, and Sig, who evidently really likes me.
The meal is delicious and the company delightful. Although Reese responds to comments and comports himself in a polite enough way, I can practically feel the tension humming just beneath his unaffected façade. As much as I hate to admit it, it thrills me.
He’s made it known that he wants me, that he intends to have me. And I have made it known that I intend to make sure that doesn’t happen. We are admittedly engaged in a battle of wills. But something deep inside me realizes that this is only the beginning, that Reese has yet to really even exert himself, and that when he does, this battle is going to become much more difficult for me. And much more dangerous.
But that’s partly what makes it so thrilling. Somewhere in the back of my mind and the bottom of my heart, I wonder if I’m really strong enough to resist. Or if I even really want to. I wonder if there’s a part of me that wants to get back what we had all those years ago, when love was still young and fresh and perfect and unscathed, to get that back even for a moment. Or a month. Or a summer. If that would even be possible.
On one level, I seriously doubt it. But on another level, I believe I’m strong enough to test those waters without crumbling into a thousand pieces when things don’t work out. I’ve already given Reese those tender parts of myself. What’s left now is harder, harsher. Stronger.
It’s the rise of one dark brow that jolts me from my silent reverie. Reese is watching me. And I, lost in thought, have obviously been watching him.
Hurriedly, I turn my attention to Sig at my side, laughing at whatever he’s laughing at, but having no clue what we’re even talking about. Without looking back at him, I can almost feel Reese’s amusement. His amusement and his predatory eyes.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN - Reese
I’ve kept a loose eye on Kennedy the entire evening. I’ve watched her flirt with Sig. I’ve watched her interact with Sloane and Hemi. I’ve watched her try her damnedest not to look at me and try her best to ignore me.