Joanne Rock - The Pleasure Trip

Damn but she was hot.

Renewed interest in his trip had him clapping and on his feet when her number ended. A wolf whistle fell from his lips without thought.

He didn’t know if she had more dances or if she was done for the night, but either way he made up his mind to go backstage and find out. He might have squelched his aptitude for spontaneity over the last year of putting family first, but he’d always had a flair for closing a deal.

And the brazen bombshell hurrying offstage in glittering silver sandals was one opportunity he wouldn’t let slip away.

* * *

HAULING BUTT OFFSTAGE, Rita wanted to slip out of sight and slink away before Danielle the Demoness could get a hold of her. She’d missed two cues by a fraction of a second. Not enough that the audience would notice, but enough to soften the performance and take off the edge of crisp perfection Danielle drilled into their brains at Jayne’s rehearsals.

It was the man in the front row who’d thrown Rita off. When he’d turned to look at her head-on… She closed her eyes to recapture the hot sensation of desire that had showered over her.

Deep. Dark. Delicious.

If she didn’t need to search for Jayne, she might be tempted to track him down and see what happened. Resigned to giving Danielle the slip and helping her sister keep her job instead, Rita hurried out of her costume before the show manager realized what happened. Luckily, Jayne’s stage perfection usually bought her a wide berth from Danielle who—while she liked to nitpick every detail of her productions—possessed a healthy respect for star talent.

Sliding into her shorts and knit halter top she’d been wearing earlier, Rita rushed out of the backstage through a lesser-used side door out onto the Mercury deck while still securing the knot around the back of her neck.

“Can I help you with that?”

Through the veil of her hair with her neck kinked down, Rita spied the object of her stage fantasies framed by the dark night of the open deck. The man in the navy pinstriped suit looked even better close up. He reached for the tie on her halter top.

Sex-starved lunatic that she was, she actually moved her hand away to let him take over the task. For a nanosecond.

“Wait.” She slapped her hand back on the half-formed knot, dismayed to find his fingers already there. And she was already turned on. Her legs that had been shaking from the performance quivered a little more. Just from this man’s proximity. Amazing.

“What?” His voice was too close. He was too close.

Rita reminded herself she was not the impulsive sister. She was the rock. The stabilizer in her family since she’d pulled her first babysitting gig when she’d been eight and Jayne seven. Rita prided herself on being the only Frazer female not driven by her hormones.

Although in this man’s case that seemed hard to remember.

“I can get it. And I don’t even know you, so I have no intention of letting you dress me.”

He slid his hand out from under hers, although he didn’t remove it altogether. Instead, the warmth of his fingers drifted fleetingly along her shoulder underneath her hair for a moment as she finished tying her shirt into place. The touch was so light she could almost think she’d imagined it.

“I’m Harrison Masters and I run a resort called Masters Inn on the outskirts of Naples.”

“Rita Frazer.” She found herself extending her hand to shake his, even though she didn’t normally fraternize with passengers. But maybe just this once she deserved a little reward for her efforts since she’d gone above and beyond duty by dancing Jayne’s number. She hadn’t even been able to stick around to meet with the Roman Cruise Lines executives to ensure they were pleased with her costumes.

“Nice to meet you, Rita.” His smile created crinkles around his endlessly blue eyes. His hand engulfed hers, the warmth of his fingers stroking the heel of her palm, the sensitive inside of her wrist where her pulse throbbed with awareness. “I hope you don’t mind me following up on our connection during your show.”

“Umm.” She backed up against the rail as an older couple shuffled past them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”

“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He leaned against the rail while the ship cruised easily through open water, crossing his legs at the ankle as if he had all night. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one engaged in the long, hot looks out there.”

She hesitated, knowing she could hardly deny her unusual behavior. “Sorry about all the long, hot looks.”

“Don’t be sorry on my account. I’m a gentleman and all, and I’ll leave now if I misinterpreted the staring. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed.”

“I was staring at you. But not for the reason you probably thought.”

“Meaning you didn’t hope I’d come backstage to proposition you?” He shook his head, his broad shoulders slumping just a bit. “Damned if my dating skills aren’t getting rusty.”

She remembered him peeling the label off his beer bottle before she came out onstage and felt a twinge of empathy. If he’d given her a hard-sell pitch to have a drink with him, she could have blown him off in a heartbeat. But she hated to think she’d led him on.

“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”And God knows, she’d thought about jumping him the moment she laid eyes on him. “I just got into a bit of a pickle with the whole dancing thing and I needed a focus—”

“No need to explain.” He held up his hand to halt her, a flash of regret in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “It’s not your fault and I’m just going to get out of your way so you can—”

“Wait.” Rita’s heart pounded with the need to explain. Or maybe she just didn’t want to let him go. After the day she’d had, Harrison Masters seemed like a lifeline, a rare opportunity to enjoy herself for a few stolen hours since she probably wouldn’t have any luck tracking down the partying newlyweds until dawn at the earliest. Maybe she could forget about being practical just this once. “On second thought, a man with rusty dating skills might be just my speed. You want to get a drink?”

* * *

TWO HOURS LATER, Harrison guided Rita toward the uppermost deck of the ship under a fat full moon and had to admit maybe his dating savvy wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. At the very least, he was right to follow the attraction to see where it led because he’d had more fun getting to know her over drinks tonight than he’d ever had in a crowded bar.

“I never date,” Rita blurted as they strolled side by side around the running track on the small, nearly vacant deck.

“Never?” Harrison had discovered speaking her mind was part of her unusual charm, a part he appreciated greatly since he’d never been much for decoding the complicated thought processes employed by women. “I’m positive that’s not because of a lack of offers. Your line of work must bring you a lot of attention.”

“Not exactly.” She slowed down as they reached the forward curve of the rail where they could see six other larger decks sprawled out below them.

From their perch they could see conga dancing around the pool, a teen disco party on another deck and an Irish pub night around one of the other outdoor bars where revelers all wore shiny green plastic leprechaun hats.

Her hedging answer made him wary to press further. “I totally get it if you don’t want to talk about your love life. I’m just glad to be here with you, Rita, because I don’t take much time off to hang out and relax. I’ve had a great time tonight.”

Rita looked too good to contemplate with only a couple of inches separating them. She tossed her thick red curls over her shoulder, releasing the apple scent of her shampoo. She flicked her fingernail gently against her wineglass, creating a soft ringing sound.