Docked (20 page)

“Jonah—”

“Do I have any shot with you at all? Or is this whole thing a big waste of time? ‘Cause I was under the impression we hit it off the first night we met. I’m wondering if I read that wrong.”

I sink back into the seat, bringing my napkin back to my lap. “We did. We did hit it off.”

He watches me for a second and his shoulders relax a bit. He sits back and gestures between us. “Okay, so…you’re interested?”

“I am, I’m just a bit tied up this week.” I bite my lip, unsure how to explain it any differently. I was attracted to Jonah from the get-go. Still am. But I wasn’t expecting a fling with Tanner Christensen after I met him, especially not one that lasted the duration of the cruise.

“What does that mean, exactly?”

My gaze dances over the table, eyeing a trail of breadcrumbs. “Where do you live?”

His brow furrows. “Where do I live?”

“Yeah, where do you call home? You said Central Florida, right?”

“Yeah, Orlando…why?”

“Because when the cruise is over, I’m free. I mean, I can do this—” I gesture between us, “when it’s over. When I’m not distracted with work and…”
and blue-eyed billionaires
. “I just have a lot going on right now. So the answer to your question is, no, this isn’t a waste of time. At least, I don’t think so. But while we’re being frank, I shouldn’t have agreed to come here with you tonight.” I slowly stand and fish some crisp bills from my clutch, then swipe one of my business cards and hand it to him. I place the cash on the table. “I’m not available right now. If you’re still interested in going out when we get back to shore, give me a call.”

He accepts the card and looks around, half rising to his knees. “Uh…okay. Sure, okay.”

I nod firmly and slip out of the booth. That was easier than I thought.

“Whoa, wait. What about your meal?”

“Ask for a box. Take it home.” I smile. “Thanks, Jonah.” I reach over and squeeze his knuckle, then quickly turn and beeline it for the exit.

Freedom swamps me when I step through the doors and out into the hall, and it follows me into the elevator. My finger jumps over the buttons, making a split decision at the last minute, as the doors slide close.

When they reopen, I find myself in front of Tanner’s office, instead of back at my room for girls’ night. I step out of the elevator and pause in front of the entrance, fixated on his name engraved into the silver plaque to the left. It’s late, past business hours, anyway, but the doors are wide open, and I find Heidi the secretary sitting there, typing away under dim light.

“Hey there,” she replies without looking up, her fingers flying over the keyboard, “Mr. Christensen’s gone for the evening.”

“I know, I just saw him a little bit ago.”

She looks up, peering at me through her glasses. She squeezes the bridge of her nose. “Ah, Miss Banks, right? So sorry, I’m exhausted. Long day.”

I smile kindly. “I understand. What are you still doing here?”

“Oh, I’m so behind today. This merger business is madness! Did you say you just saw Mr. Christensen? Do you need his number? I can call him for you if you’d like, but I can’t promise he’ll answer. He’s taken the evening off.”

“That’s no problem, I’ll call him myself. Thank you, though. May I take a seat in his office?”

“Certainly.” She removes her glasses and wipes them with a lens cloth. “Let me know if you get a hold of him.”

“Will do.” I enter his office and find the light on; the view that’s normally blue and breathtaking is now stark black and utterly eerie this time of night. I waltz over to his desk chair and pull out my cell, intent to give him a ring. But when I step around the desk and station myself in front of the chair, I freeze.

Sticky notes. Sticky notes
everywhere
.

I blow out a long sigh and drop into the chair, setting the phone down. Oh, this man will drive me mad. I begin plucking them up, one by one, searching for patterns and assigning categories for them, collecting the greens and yellows, then the blues. A pen rolls to the left across the desktop as I get to work, and I feel the ship floor sway lightly beneath my feet. The pen rolls back, and my eyes jump to follow its direction.

Frustrated, I return to the task at hand, snatching up the notes that are plastered all over Tanner’s telephone. There’s something there about calling his mother back—oh his sweet, doll of a mother—and something about some big merger meeting next week. There are more phone numbers than I can keep up with, all paired with names I can’t make out. This man’s handwriting is atrocious! And for the love of Pete, why is he still living in the dark ages, keeping valuable information like this on damn miniature-sized pieces of paper!

I begin to feel better when I see I’m making some progress, once again clearing some space so the desktop is actually visible. I collect the last stray notes and I’m drawn to the pen again, which is rolling toward the telephone. My legs register the roll of the ship, and a sudden lump rises in my throat. I release the notes and carefully latch on to the edge of the desk, lifting my head to stare straight ahead. I’m not certain, but I believe this is what people call sea sickness—or the beginning of it, anyway. Dizziness swirls around me and disorientation takes root, messing with my sense of direction.

I rise warily, still holding on to the edge of the desk, and begin to feel my way to the right, away from the chair. The ship’s rocking increases subtly. Not enough to knock me off balance, but enough to get my attention. I feel for my phone and grip my clutch tightly, moving for the door. Another roll sends me tilting, and I work to steady myself, pushing down the nausea that’s slowly creeping up. My heart picks up speed and I open my clutch, digging for my meds. I need to get out. I need out of this space, off this ship. I need fresh air and wide, open space, and I need it fast.

“Were you able to get a hold of him, Miss Banks?” Heidi asks when I exit Tanner’s office.

“No. No, I wasn’t.” I grip my forehead as I struggle to find the pills.

“Miss Banks?” Heidi rises from the reception desk, her brow pinched in concern. “You’re looking very pale, are you feeling okay?”

My shaky hands give up finding the pill bottle. I focus on her face, working hard to ignore the swaying motion. “I’ll be fine, thank you. I’m just feeling a bit seasick. Have a good night.” I dart for the exit and she calls after me, but my mind is dead set on inhaling that fresh air, and if I don’t find a railing to grab on to soon, I’m afraid I’ll pass out.

Gripping my cell phone with trembling fingers, I attempt to call Lana, but I can’t focus long enough on the screen to scroll to her name. I’m too dizzy, and the panic is racing up my chest, looking for a way out. I hurry out of the hall and onto the deck, and am blown back a step by a blast of wind and rain. A light spray sheaths me and I stumble forward, putting my arms up to shield myself. People hurry past me in evening wear, anxious to duck inside. I’d love to join them, but inside is the last place I want to be right now.

My body reins me backward, aligning me with the ship wall. My heels clack on the deck, my palms landing flat against the wall. I grip it for dear life, thanking every angel in heaven when I spot the wooden bench to my right. It’s wet with moisture, and now I’m freezing from the wind and spray that continuously beat at the deck, but I need to sit, and I need to breathe. The ship’s rocking is a bit more tolerable out here, although the rain isn’t helping to soothe my nerves. More people scurry by, yapping about the crappy weather and how they wish they would’ve paid more attention to the weather report this morning.

Now that I have a firm place to plant myself, I force my uneasy hands back to my phone and scroll for Lana’s name. I have to squint to see the screen, but I’m able to just make it out. I quickly dial and wipe the droplets of water that are dripping down the bridge of my nose. They’re gathering above my top lip, saturating my skin and chilling me to the bone. I won’t be able to stay out here long.

I wait as the line rings, taking the opportunity to dig through my clutch again for my pills. I curse when I realize why I can’t find them. I failed to transfer them to my evening clutch. “Come on, Lan, pick up.” The line rings two more times, then goes to voicemail. I pass on leaving a message, opting to buck up and head back to the room as soon as I get my breathing under control. My head lifts and my gaze focuses straight ahead, over the deck railing. There’s nothing but darkness, the crashing of waves. Every few seconds, the ship shifts and rocks, shifts and rocks, until I can no longer focus on the black horizon before me. My lungs, stomach, and mind can tolerate no more.

Rising to my feet, I start for the door on the left, but my gaze is still drawn to the blackness over the railing, calling to me like a beacon. I can’t look away, even though my brain shoots darts of fire in my chest, warning me to duck inside and get the hell out of Dodge. This is nothing like the calm serenity I confronted on Alvita. Swimming in that was easy, nothing compared to what’s facing me right now.

Against all common sense, my feet move to pivot my waist, turning me around, away from the door, across the wide deck space, and toward the ship railing. My body is possessed, and my mind is at battle. Something keeps pushing me forward. I need to see the water. I need to step up to the railing. If Zoe was strong enough to survive the current, and I was crazy enough to go in after her, then I should be brave enough to face the ocean regardless of its mood.

If we all face the ocean only when it’s calm, how will we know what we’re capable of when that serenity is disrupted?

This question keeps me inching closer and closer, until I find myself face to face with the bleak horizon, my hands gripping the railing just as tightly—if not tighter—as the night I’d bumped into Tanner while he was jogging. My chest tightens, too, and I force my eyes wide, disciplining my mind to absorb the sight before me. “There’s nothing to fear,” I whisper to myself, staring down at the black, churning waves, “nothing can hurt you. You’re perfectly safe. You’re safe.”

“Anya!”

I flinch at the sound of my name, but don’t dare loosen my grip on the rail or allow my concentration to break. I repeat the same mantra over and over, keeping my eyes glued on the ocean. I can do this. I
must
do this.

“Anya, hey!” Tanner’s voice floats through the whipping wind again, but this time, it’s closer. I’m swimming in disorientation, my perception is still off kilter, but I can feel his presence, can sense him gaining ground. In seconds, his hand is wrapped around my elbow, and he’s stepping in front of me, breaking my view of the ocean.

“Don’t,” I mumble, refusing to avert my eyes.

He slips an arm around my back and moves closer. “Heidi called me. What the hell are you doing out here? It’s pouring. Goddamn it, Anya, are you trying to jump?”

My eyes flip up to meet his, and I’m stunned on the spot, then insulted. “What?”

“Are you trying to jump?”

“Why the hell would I jump?” I stutter as I push the words out, my lips shaking from the cold.

“I don’t know, you look…shit, are you okay? You’re trembling, baby. Come on, let’s get you inside.” He starts to move, bracing his arm firmly around my back to guide me away, but I dig my heels in, refusing to budge.

“I’m not trying to kill myself, Tanner.”

“Then would you mind telling me what you’re doing out here, shaking and soaking wet, gripping this rail like it’s a lifeline?”

“It is,” I murmur, eyeing my knuckles. “It is a lifeline. I need to do this.”

“Do what? Anya, you’re scaring me, baby. Please, come inside. We need to warm you up.”

“That swim on the beach? Back at your place? That was nothing. I just need a moment. Please, just give me a moment.” My eyes water and my legs shake harder when the ship sways hard to the left, rocking us both back. A small cry bubbles up and Tanner jumps into action, bending slightly at his knees to scoop me up. I collapse into his arms and allow my head to fall against his chest, encircling my hands around his neck as I let the tears mix with the rain water against his skin.

“Screw this,” he mumbles, “we’re going inside. Do not argue with me, Miss Banks.”

I break, my chest caving in from the pressure, and my eyes close, shutting out the storm. It can’t put out the one raging inside of me, but it gives me temporary relief. Tanner moves quickly, half jogging as he carries me inside. Whispers erupt around us as he squeezes through clusters of people. I hear the ding of an elevator and more whispers, and the silence spills, only the sound of Tanner’s labored breathing filling the space. His wet chest rises and falls against me.

“Anya?” he breathes, brushing a kiss over my temple. “Stay with me, baby.”

I don’t respond, just let him carry me out of the elevator and into his cabin. He walks us straight to the bedroom and gently sets me down on the edge of the bed, crouching down to pull off my heels. Next he peels off my dress and panties, until I’m bare before him. He shrouds me in a large, white towel and carefully lays me down on the bed, making quick work of his suit jacket and shirt. He kicks off his shoes and climbs onto the bed with me, bringing me straight to his chest.

“You’re safe, Anya. Safe. Tell me what you need. What can I do for you?”