Docked (26 page)

I imagine Tanner sailing new territory, greeting guests on the Trident Voyager as he introduces them to fresh, stunning views of the Mediterranean. Even now, immersed in his world of luxury and exclusivity, I cannot merge my idea of living with his reality, which is filled with wealth, glamorous travel, gourmet food, and a ceaseless stream of women throwing themselves at his feet.

My reality is microwaving the occasional TV dinner, sitting in a cubicle, and entertaining deadbeat boyfriends.

A familiar wave of insecurity suddenly overtakes me and I begin to squirm, stilling when I feel Tanner’s hand grip and rest on my knee. He’s still on the phone, going on about business, but he glances at me curiously. I settle my focus on the road ahead, determined to keep the irrational thoughts deeply buried. They need to be invisible around a man like Tanner, who knows exactly who he is and what he likes.

“I won’t discuss this now,” he insists, lowering his voice. His hand leaves my knee. “Then we won’t discuss it ever. I know exactly what you think of my decision. You’ve told me no less than five times now. I’ll speak to you when I dock in two weeks, and that’s final.” He shoves his phone in his pocket, huffing beneath his breath. Discomfort rolls off him in waves.

“Everything okay?” I ask, wondering if that was his mother calling to pester him.

“It will be, once we step foot on my ship.”

“We don’t have to go on another sailing, you know. I understand if you’d like some time away from work. We can just spend time at your place, instead. Or mine.”

“No. The Voyager will do.” He squeezes my knee again. “It’s the only way to ensure I get two full weeks with you. Once you’re on my ship, you’re stuck with me.”

“There would certainly be worse things in the world, Mr. Christensen.”

His head snaps toward me and I look away, a content, peaceful smile forming on my face.

“We’re making a pit stop before we board,” Tanner declares, a knowing lilt to his tone.

“Oh? Where to?”

“Right here.” He points over the steering wheel to the shopping plaza on the right, eyeing the office supply store at the end of the strip.

“Let me guess. You’re all out of sticky notes.”

“Something like that.” We park and he opens the door for me, taking my hand. When we step inside the office supply store, Tanner grabs a cart and I’m whisked to the left, down the first aisle.

“If we’re not here for sticky notes, what do you need?”

“I’d like you to organize my office.” He walks us down the aisle, assessing the pen holders and file trays. “Get one of everything. Anything you think I need, put it in the cart.”

“Wait a minute. The last two times I touched things in your office, it made you very cranky.”

“I’m over it, Miss Banks. Please tend to this task for me. You’re good at it, and I trust your judgment.”

I stop and eye him warily. “No more frantic phone calls when you can’t find a phone number?”

“I cannot promise that, but I believe I can agree to some upgrades to keep things in better order.”

“As in, you’ll actually try storing your contacts in your phone?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Tanner, what century are you living in? How have you survived in the business world?”

“I like to write things down. That will not change, so get used to it, Miss Banks. It’s worked for me thus far.”

“Um, no. No, it hasn’t.”

“If you’re going to organize my office, you’re going to play by my rules.”

“I never agreed to organize your office!” My voice jumps two octaves and earns us a few looks from nearby store associates. I gather my cool and get myself in check. I speak quieter this time. “I’m a travel writer, not an administrative assistant.”

“You’re also a kept woman for the next two weeks, and kept women have to earn their keep.” He winks playfully and I stomp on his foot, wishing to God Lana were here to witness the victory. She’s my biggest cheerleader, and the more I spend time with Tanner and his full-of-himself persona, I’m convinced I have, in fact, learned to adopt some of her spunk. With a man this overbearing, I’ve no choice.

“I haven’t boarded your ship yet. I can call Jonah right now and have him pick me up and drive me home.”

Tanner’s eyes flare. “Need I remind you that you are on loan to me by your boss for the next two weeks and that the entire expense is on me?” He snatches a pen holder from the shelf without looking at it and holds it out, gently pressing it into my chest. “You work for me the next two weeks, Miss Banks, and I won’t allow Junior to pick you up in his remote control toy car.”

“Jonah drives a moped, for your information.”

“Oh,” he rolls his eyes to the ceiling, chuckling, “even better.”

“Fine.” I grab the pen holder and toss it unceremoniously in the cart. “If I’m to organize your office, then we play by
my
rules.” I walk around the cart and lean up into his face, kissing him on the lips. “And there will be no more sticky notes.” Without another word, I push the cart and start trucking down the aisle, grabbing everything in sight. Not only has he fired me up about my choice in men—boys, whatever—and interfered with my career, now he’s awakened an entirely new passion in me, and that is to create the best, most efficient office system I can for him. At least now, when I stop by to say hello, his desk won’t drive me mad.

I can feel the undercurrent of his laugh behind me, but I don’t turn around. I remain focused, a woman on a mission, goal oriented and task driven. I may work in a boring cubicle for people who get to travel a hell of a lot more than I do, but I have the neatest, most efficient cubicle in the office, and that workspace makes me one hell of a writer. It keeps me focused, and when you’re staring at a blank Word document while the Temptress of All Shiny Things—aka the Internet—taunts you, focus is critical.

By the time we hit the check-out counter, I’ve practically bought the whole store. I smile as Tanner lugs all of the bags from the cart and loads them into the trunk. Next stop is the port, and when we arrive, I feel a small flair of panic when my gaze lands on the ship. Just yesterday, I was able to look back at it fondly, reverently, even. Today, knowing I’m boarding for yet another fourteen days and placing my heart on the line by extending this arrangement with Tanner, a new breed of uncertainty begins to swell low in my belly.

“Did you remember to pack your meds?” Tanner asks gently as a steward approaches to take our shopping bags and luggage.

I pause for a moment. “Yes. Thank you.”

He plants a light kiss on my head and offers me his arm to walk up the gangway. “The minute you feel afraid, you come find me. Day or night. I’m all yours. You’re my first priority during this sailing.”

A little pang hits my chest and my eyes roll up to watch him as we walk. His baby blues are covered, concealed by his sunglasses. I squeeze his forearm and his lips twitch, but he doesn’t look down, just keeps up his graceful stride, leading us to his cabin, kicking off our shoes as soon as we enter.

“Champagne, baby?” He begins to loosen his tie.

I flop onto the chaise lounge by one of the porthole windows and sigh. “That sounds heavenly.”

“I’m on it. Would you like anything else?”

“Just you.”

He slides his tie off and hangs it over the back of a dining room chair. “At your service, Miss Banks.”

I stretch out like a cat and cradle my arms behind my head, envisioning the new adventures about to unfold as we set sail. “Tanner?” I call out, hearing him shuffle around in the kitchen.

“Yes?”

“Are we going back to Alvita?”

“We are.”

“Will we get to spend more time at your place on the island?”

“If you’d like.”

“I’d love to.”

“There will be no dusting this time around.”

“Oh, but you know what a man with a duster does for me,” I sing playfully, pointing my toes over the edge of the lounge. I’m in sore need of a pedicure.

“If it pleases you that much, I’ll consider a repeat performance.” He reappears from the kitchen, two glasses of champagne in hand.

I sit up eagerly. “You would do that?”

He hands me one and sits next to me, clinking our glasses. “I said I’ll consider it. No promises, though.”

My bottom lip puffs out and he bends forward, planting a kiss on my cheek. “To our revised arrangement,” he raises his glass, “and to gorgeous, clever women brave enough to dive in.”

I tap my glass against his. “I don’t think there’s anything clever about me joining you for another cruise.” My tone is light, but my words seem to jar him.

“Why do you say that?”

“I’ve already told you. I’m the one taking the risk, here.”

“You have no idea the risk I’m taking by bringing you here, Anya.” His eyes flit away and he takes a sip of his champagne.

I sit up straight, tucking my legs to the side. “Me? A risk? How so? Why didn’t you say something? I offered to stay ashore and—”

“Let me ask you something.”

“Okay…”

“Where did you get the impression that you’re the only one…feeling invested?”

His head turns but his gaze is lowered, scanning my bare legs. My lungs lock up in my chest, shifting into shutdown mode. My fingers find the hem of my sundress and begin wiggling it down toward my knees, suddenly feeling the need to cover them from his intense stare.

“I’m not sure,” I respond quietly. “I suppose I just assumed that from the beginning. You’ve made your position very clear. I wasn’t expecting anything other than what you offered.”

His gaze finally lifts to mine, and his eyes pierce me. “I still don’t know what I can offer you. I don’t know what this means. I only know I want as many hours as possible with you.”

I blink. My fingers turn cold, but my chest warms, as if fresh laundry from the dryer has just been dumped onto it by the heap full.

“Does that frighten you?” he asks, watching my reaction with the same severity evident in his voice.

I stutter. “Why would that frighten me?”

“You don’t strike me as a woman who enjoys spending time in Limbo. I can see you’re a rational, practical person who likes order and certainty. I’m not sure I can offer you either.”

“I’m far from rational when I’m with you, Tanner.”

He scans my face, and I can’t help but wonder what’s brought about his sudden seriousness. Just moments ago he was relaxed and carefree, proposing a toast to celebrate our time together, and now he’s brooding and lost in thought.

“Hey,” I scoot over and climb onto his lap. “Let’s not over think this. We have an arrangement. That’s all. Nothing more, nothing less. I can handle that, or I wouldn’t have agreed to be here with you again.” I mean the words as I say them, but a small, black space, somewhere hidden, nags at me that they aren’t entirely true.

He welcomes me onto his lap, brushing my hair over my shoulder. “I’m afraid I’ve involved you in something you weren’t prepared to take on.”

“You’re second guessing your decision to invite me here?”

He takes another sip from his flute and his shoulders tense beneath my hands. “It’s not that, Anya. I want you here. More than you know.”

“Then why are you pouting?”

He stiffens and his eyes flick up. “I’m not pouting.”

“This is you,” I trace his lips with my finger, “pouting. Where is all of this coming from?”

He bites my finger, the breath from his nostrils hitting my skin. He changes his tune, shaking the heaviness. “You’re clothed and on my lap.”

I snicker. “Keen observation, Mr. Christensen.”

He pinches my hipbone. “I prefer you naked when you’re on my lap.”

“
Mmm
,” I lean down and kiss his neck, “I think we’ve established that.”

He lifts and pushes me back, laying me down on the chaise, moving to hover over me. His mouth comes down lightly, his voice barely a whisper. “I’m going to give it to you gently,” he says, pressing a kiss to the corner of my mouth. “I know how that pleases you.” Our breaths mingle, and he begins to caress my neck, sliding his hand down the curve, along the slope of my throat. My body purrs, an engine spurring to life.

And just like that, the moment is ruined.

There’s a brisk knock on the door, and Tanner curses, pushing up off the chaise. He fiddles with the top button of his crisp, white shirt and stalks toward the door, swinging it open sharply. Two men stand there with our luggage and a cart, which holds our purchases from the office supply store. Their eyes are wide with fear, and their faces are fire engine red.

“Your things, Mr. Christensen,” one of them stutters, wheeling my suitcase to his side. “We’re sorry for the intrusion.”

Frustration radiates from Tanner, his neck and shoulders tight, a frown plastered on his face, but he thanks them kindly and tips them generously, pointing to the cart. “I requested those go to my office. Please see to it they’re placed next to my desk, and let the front desk know I’m not to be disturbed the rest of the day.”

“Yes, sir. Right away. I’m very sorry, but Heidi’s requested you come to the office, sir.”