Docked (2 page)

“Green swim trunks. One o’clock.” She nudges me with her elbow as I return to my seat. I follow her gaze to the bar near the pool, finding a black-haired, athletic guy with cute dimples leaning back on the counter, drilling holes into me with deep, crystal-blue eyes. Sexy, but not my type.

“Lan, he looks like he’s twenty-one.”

“So?”

“I’m twenty-six.”

“And that’s a problem because…”

“He’s too young, you crazy woman!”

“What, are we cougars, now? We’re twenty-six for God’s sake, not sixty! Go over there and give him a closer look. He’s eye-fucking you as we speak.”

“It’s my job to play matchmaker on this trip, not yours, remember?”

“I don’t need anyone playing matchmaker for me. I can hunt all on my own. You, on the other hand, need a good kick in the ass.”

“Excuse me! What makes you think I’m even looking?” I lift my sunglasses and pin her with fiery brown eyes, a smile twisting my lips. Lana really needs no help in the self-esteem department.

“Anya, I know for a fact that Jeremiah guy was
not
cutting it in the bedroom. You need someone to show you how it’s done. No time like the present, babe.”

I pluck the little pink umbrella from my drink and flick it at her. “You just know it all, don’t you, Queen of the Universe?”

“I do, thank you very much.” She laughs and tosses the umbrella back. “I know that Matt and I had better sex than you and Jeremiah ever did, and that’s saying something. Now quit being stubborn and go make friends at the bar.”

“I will not!”

“Don’t
make
me waste a perfectly good margarita.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Lana’s lips purse and her eyes narrow. With a flick of her wrist, she sends her drink sloshing all over me, and I shriek, leaping off the chair. “You were saying?”

Oh, the feisty, bossy bitch. She just declared war.

I send the remainder of my drink sailing between us, grinning widely as I watch it splash all over her chest. The next thing I know, we’re howling in laughter and she’s yanking at my hair while I fight dirty, grappling for her halter top string.

“Oh no, you don’t!” she shouts, scrambling to knock my hands away from her neck. Her sunglasses topple to the deck and her shouts only fuel our laughter further. I give up on the halter top strings and go for her hair. It’s already disheveled. The wind has been knocked out of me and I’m struggling to catch my breath, but I manage to get in a good lungful of air when I’m distracted by a glimpse of the younger guy at the bar, who is now strolling over to make his move.

“Shit.” I let go of Lana’s red waves and straighten up, working to make sure my bikini top is still intact. I snap up my towel and attempt to inconspicuously wipe the margarita from my chest and abdomen.

“I underestimated you,” Lana giggles, toppling over onto her side as she gasps. “You’re vicious, Anya Banks.” I clear my throat and break eye contact with Mr. One O’clock, and Lana catches on. She sits up and her gaze darts to where mine’s just been. “Oh, good! He’s assertive. Just what you need.”

“Sssh,” I shush her, feeling my cheeks redden. I roll my eyes and stiffen when I feel him approaching. Lana lifts her chin and grins widely in his direction. Dear God, if I don’t die from drowning on this trip, then I’ll surely die from mortification.

“Hello ladies, welcome aboard,” a smooth, measured tone drifts over us, along with a looming shadow. Lana’s grin reaches epic proportions, her eyes widening in surprise. She shoots me a coy look and I shift to greet the guy from the bar. Only, when I look up, I find it’s not the guy from the bar.

Not even close.

This guy…well, I don’t know where this guy came from. He’s immaculate. Tall, effortlessly sophisticated, and exuding raw masculinity. My jaw drops a bit, and I’m completely frozen, stuck staring like a gaping fish. “Are you enjoying yourselves so far? Finding everything to your liking?” he asks, smiling coolly down at us. His short, tousled blonde hair glistens under the sunlight. He’s freshly shaven, emphasizing the sharp, defined angles of his jaw, and the blue of his eyes is so deep, a heady cerulean, I could swim in them. His athletic build is mouthwatering—sleek and graceful. The sun has kissed his skin in all the right places, even and warm, caressing his firm build, which clearly has Lana panting in her seat.

My gaze jumps behind him, and I see the guy from the bar standing just a few yards away, watching our exchange unfold. He walks to the edge of the pool and joins his friend, whispering something under his breath. It’s clear he’s been deflected by the man now standing before us, asking us about our day, but I’m unable to feel even a pang of sympathy for him, because all I can focus on is the fine specimen of male who unknowingly sabotaged his move.

“Well, we are
now
,” Lana croons, leaning back on the palms of her hands. “Aren’t we, Anya?” She kicks my shin and I wince, snapping out of my haze.

“Um, yeah. Definitely.”

“And you are?” Lana tilts her head playfully, arching her back. The guy’s easy smile spreads on one side, lifting into a smirk, but his eyes seem unaffected, completely immune to Lana’s shameless body language.

“Tanner Christensen,” he says confidently, extending a hand. “I own the ship. Please, if there’s anything I can do to make your sailing experience more pleasurable, don’t hesitate to come find me and let me know.” Lana slips her hand into his and raises a brow, continuing to grin up at him like the brazen hussy she is.

“Oh, I will certainly take you up on that, Mr. Christensen.” His baby blues twinkle in satisfaction and he shakes her hand firmly. “I’m Lana. This is my best friend, Anya.”

“Ah,” he says, extending his hand to me next. “Best friends sailing together. I like that. The pleasure’s mine, Miss…”

“Banks,” I finish for him, accepting his warm hand. It swallows mine whole, transfixing me for a moment.

“Miss Banks. Can I ask what made you ladies choose this cruise line? You have many options. I’m honored you chose my ship.”

“The men,” Lana blurts with a blasé shrug of her shoulder. Tanner releases my hand and his gaze bounces toward her. He chuckles smoothly, sliding his hands into his pants pockets. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in grey dress pants, a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, and a baby blue tie. His polished, Italian leather shoes scream luxurious wealth. His taste is impeccable.

I discreetly tug at the triangles of my bikini top, feeling incredibly bare in comparison.

“Lana,” I laugh, glancing at Tanner, “don’t mind her, she has no brain-to-mouth filter.”

Tanner presses his lips together, suppressing a smile. “That’s perfectly fine with me. Honesty is always refreshing.”

“In that case,” Lana starts, crossing her legs, “I have to ask. What are you doing on this cruise?”

Tanner’s fists flex and tighten in his pants pockets. His expression turns from entertained to perplexed, his eyebrows knitting closely together. “Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.”

“I mean, you’re the owner, right? Don’t companies and owners of cruise ships, ya know, sit at home in fancy offices or swanky cubicles somewhere?”

“Not always. Not me. I could check in on the ship’s sailings a lot less often, but I choose not to. I love to sail, love the ocean. I come aboard whenever I get the chance. Getting acquainted with my guests is very important to me.” He responds with complete certainty, a comfortable self-assurance. It’s sexy.

“Are you married?”

“Lana!”

“Because you should be.”

“Oh my God.”

“What? He should be.” She gestures to him, glancing at me sideways. “Handsome, successful,
friendly
…”

“She’s sorry.” I smile up at Tanner, biting my lip. He’s shaking his head softly, looking down at his expensive shoes with a playful, knowing grin. He knows. He must get this all the time from women on the ship. He can’t be more than 30—awfully young to own a ship like this—and he carries himself well. You’d have to be daft not to notice this man.

“No, I’m not,” Lana retorts, standing to her feet. She brings herself eye level with him, all sassy and Lana-like, although his height still overpowers her. “Care to give us a tour of the ship, Mr. Christensen?”

Cool surprise sheaths his face, but he takes it in stride. “I’d be honored to, but I’m actually on my way to a meeting at the moment. I’d be happy to escort you to a staff member who can show you around, if you wish. Would that suffice?”

“Nah, that’s okay. We’d prefer to take a tour with you, personally.”

I clear my throat and slowly rise to my feet to stand with Lana. She has one hand planted on her hip, while the other toys with the strings of her bikini bottom. As I rise, I suddenly feel as I did a moment ago, when Tanner’s hand was enclosing mine—small and naked. Very, very naked.

I cross my arms and smile sweetly, bumping my shoulder into Lana’s side. “We understand. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Christensen.”

The blue flecks in his eyes dance as he glances at me, studying me for a second, then at his chrome watch. “Tell you what. When the ship leaves port, I’ll be in the Marais lounge on Deck 10, Aft. That’s where we celebrate setting sail. Come find me, and I’ll show you around.”

“Great! We’ll be there,” Lana replies quickly.

“If it’s not an inconvenience,” I add. “You must get these requests all the time.”

Tanner tilts his head and looks at me dead on. His lashes lower for a second and he studies me again. “No inconvenience at all. I look forward to it. In the meantime, happy hunting, ladies. Oh,” he leans in and lowers his voice, “and if you’re looking for Mr. Right, I suggest the Bordeaux Room on Deck 8, Forward. It’s open every evening and I hear the selection is impressive.” He smirks and gently touches my shoulder. I am acutely aware of his nearness, and I half expect his fingers to stick to my shoulder with lime juice. Instead the contact is brief, his fingers smooth and warm.

“Ooooh, he’s a matchmaker, too! See, An, he’s a winner.” Lana elbows me and wiggles her fingers at him, watching as he strolls off. He stops a few feet away from us to briefly greet more guests, and then disappears down the deck through a set of double doors.

“Now
that
is what I call exceptional service,” Lana sings, fanning herself. “Hallelujah, we have a date. What’ll we wear? We better get back to the room and start preparing!”

“What do you mean,
we
?” I snort, moving to plop back down on my lounge chair. “You mean you. I just got here.”

“You’re not coming?” she shrieks in disbelief, spinning around to join me. She settles on the edge of my chair, whimpering like a puppy. “You have to come, An. Please? Did you not just get an eyeful of that hunk of male who offered to show us around? Don’t spoil my fun!”

“I’m not spoiling anything. You have him all to yourself. Go have fun.” I snap open my bottle of sunscreen and begin to lather up, ignoring her pout. “And yes, I did see him. Any woman with a pulse sees him.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“I’d much rather sit out here until the sun goes down and sip a margarita than be your matchmaking guinea pig, thank you very much.”

“
Ugh
. Anya, I don’t care what I have to do, I’m dragging your ass to that party, and you
will
shamelessly flirt with that man.”

“Lana…”

“Wear your dress! The little black one with the dip in the back. It looks stunning on you. Come on, An, don’t make me beg.”

“Too late.”

Lana slaps my thigh and rises, bending to snatch up her tote bag and towel. “I’ve convinced you, you just don’t know it yet. I’m gonna bail on the sunbathing and head back to the room. I need to pick out an outfit and start primping.”

“Suit yourself. Bye,” I drawl, swatting her butt. She sticks out her tongue at me and shuffles away, leaving me with the sun reflecting off the turquoise pool water and the sounds of reggae floating on the sea breeze. I adjust my sunglasses and rest my head back, peeking over at my previous admirer. He’s in the pool now, laughing with his friends. He’s already moved on and is making a move on another brunette near the stepladder. Good riddance. I need a man, not a boy. Preferably one like the delectable Mr. Christensen. But on my own terms, not my nosey best friend’s.

I inhale deeply and close my eyes, soaking up the rich vitamin D until I’m relaxed and drifting off to sleep.

***

A soft breeze tickles my shoulder, waking me from my serene, sleepy haze. One glance at my watch tells me it’s time to head back to the room if I expect to be ready for this rendezvous with Lana and Mr. Blue Eyes. She’s right, of course. She’s convinced me to go. But only because it really does sound like fun, and I’d much rather let Lana humor herself than spend my first afternoon on a cruise ship by myself.

I collect my things and hurry down the deck, veering around a corner to catch the elevator. The hallway is bustling with people getting on and off, many of them opting to take the stairs instead of waiting for the next lift. After waiting patiently for a few minutes, I decide to follow their cue and start for the stairs. I’m cutting it close.