“Alyssa? Is that you?”
She turned around, and it took a second for the face to click in her mind, but then, “Oh my God! Chris?” She hugged her old friend tight. “I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He released her but kept a hand on her arm. “So what have you been doing?”
She shrugged. “Working and paying taxes, just like everyone else.”
He laughed. “Haven’t we all?”
“Right?” She rolled her eyes. “These days, I’m managing a couple of departments at an export company. Nothing terribly exciting.”
“Could be worse. I’m coming up on ten years in accounts receivable.” Chris wrinkled his nose. “Isn’t exactly running my own company and raking in millions, but it pays the bills.”
“God, I know that feeling.”
As they caught up, she caught her older sister Wendy’s eye from across the room, and her scowl made her stomach flip. A moment later, as Chris was gesturing at another group to point out his daughter—who was ten and absolutely adorable—she made the mistake of making eye contact with her aunt. And her stomach flipped again.
Her enthusiasm immediately evaporated. This wasn’t even a flirtatious conversation. Just a couple of classmates catching up after fifteen years.
But damn if anyone in this room who hadn’t lost touch with her in the last few years could sit comfortably while she spoke to a man. God forbid she lure him in and break his heart.
She took a swallow of champagne but didn’t taste it. After almost four years, she’d have thought people would have forgotten by now. Or at least forgiven. Something. But no, they handed out plenty of dirty looks at a friend’s wedding six months ago when Alyssa had the audacity to dance with a guy she’d just met. Apparently another woman’s wedding wasn’t the place to be “on the prowl”. Not for a whore like her, anyway.
And it wasn’t any better when she brought a date to Katie’s wedding last year. That poor, gullible sap, their eyes had all said.
I give up.
Short of moving to another city, there wasn’t much she could do to wash off this scarlet letter. She wasn’t doing that, though. That would mean moving her son away from his father. She’d just have to be patient and hope people eventually got over the circumstances under which her son was conceived. It wasn’t his fault. Alyssa couldn’t change it. Damn if anyone would let her forget it.
And suddenly, Alyssa wasn’t in much of a mood to party.
Chris gestured at the bar. “Can I buy you another drink?”
Oh, it was tempting. Booze did have a way of erasing the past for at least a few minutes. But tonight she had a feeling it would just depress her, and she didn’t want to be That Bridesmaid, sobbing into the cake on her sister’s big day. Especially not when there were a few people in attendance who’d be more than happy to remind her she’d brought this on herself.
“Actually…” She shook her head. “I think I’m getting a little seasick. I’m going to go outside for a couple of minutes.”
He raised his eyebrows. “You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Just…” She gestured outside. “I haven’t been on a boat in a while. A little air, and I’ll be fine.”
“Okay. Well, it was great to see you.”
With a forced smile, she said, “You too.”
She left him to mingle with the other guests, and stepped outside. The boat was still rocking a little, and she decided to hell with risking a broken ankle—off with the shoes. And if the soles of her nylons ran or got dirty…oh well.
As her feet met the cool, metal deck, she sighed, smiling to herself. The dull ache in her ankles would fade eventually, and she was already regaining feeling in her toes. Much better.
Shoes in hand, she wandered farther out onto the deck. Almost everyone had gone inside—someone must’ve spread the word about the free alcohol—so she was pretty much alone. For a moment, she leaned against the railing, letting the wind play with the strands of hair that hadn’t stayed up where it belonged, but she doubted she’d stay here very long. She was too restless to stay still. Too wound up. Irritated.
Alyssa threw a wary glance over her shoulder, inspecting the empty deck for anyone who’d followed her out to give her a disapproving look. Hell, let them look.
Small wonder she always seriously considered blowing off social engagements when they included anyone she hadn’t met within the last few years. She’d lost enough sleep over mistakes she’d made—the last thing she needed was self-righteous assholes insisting she wear a scarlet goddamned letter any time she breathed the same air as a man.
She glanced back at the party going on inside, at the people dancing and laughing, and her heart sank. It had been three and a half years since the truth had come out. Three and a half long, lonely years. How many more before people who knew didn’t feel the need to warn men away from her?
Grumbling to herself, she pushed herself away from the railing.
Restlessness took over, so she started wandering. There had to be somewhere on this damned boat where she could move around and get some air and just escape for a little while.
She followed the walkway from the deck to the side of the cabin, where it narrowed and continued toward the other end of the boat.
And she stopped dead.
There he was.
She stopped so abruptly, she almost stumbled again, and stared at him. And for the second time today, she was genuinely surprised to see him without a cigarette between his lips. Instead, he rested both hands on the railing, eyes closed as the wind played with his hair.
Get out of here. Back to the party. Go. Go now!
But her legs wouldn’t obey.
And then he turned his head.
His posture straightened as if she’d startled him. “Oh. Hey.”
“Hey.” Her legs were apparently still good for something—moving toward him. “You’re missing the party.”
He chuckled, turning toward her and resting his elbow on the railing. “So are you.”
Oh, I’m not missing anything important right now.
She shrugged. “You’ve been to one wedding, you’ve been to them all.”
Shane threw his head back and laughed. “Isn’t that the truth.” He gestured at her hand. “Gave up on the suicide heels?”
She glanced down at the strappy shoes dangling from her fingers. “Are you kidding? I can wear them, but not on a boat.”
He grimaced. “I don’t know how anyone walks in them in the first place. Out here?” He gestured at the water and shook his head. “Seems like pain waiting to happen.”
“You have no idea. And I got tired of stumbling all over the place every time the boat rocked. I swear, I still have my sea legs.” She held up her high heels. “Damned shoes were trying to kill me.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Your sea legs?”
“Yeah. You know, being able to—”
“Yes, I know what they are,” he said, chuckling. “I’m assuming you’ve spent a fair amount of time out on the water, then?”
Alyssa nodded. “Eight years in the Navy.”
“Really?” He rested his elbow on the railing. “That must have been an interesting career.”
“Wasn’t interesting enough to keep me past the eight-year mark, but it gave me a chance to grow up before I had to get out on my own and be an adult.”
Shane laughed dryly, shifting his gaze out to the water. “There’d be a lot fewer problems in this world if more kids went that route.”
“I don’t know. You didn’t see some of the guys on my last ship.”
“No.” He turned toward her again, an odd expression—somewhere between amused, sad and secretive—tightening his features. “But I’ve seen plenty of the idiots who never even made it that far.”
“Good point.” She leaned on the railing and let her shoulders slouch just a little. As soon as she’d relaxed, one of the straps on her dress made a quick escape down her arm. She reached for it, but Shane was faster.
He hooked his finger under the strap and drew it back up, letting the backs of his fingers trail across her skin. As the strap settled onto her shoulder and he pulled his hand back, a shiver went through her, all the way down to her toes.
“Uh.” She swallowed, resting her arms on the railing again now that his brief, soft touch had messed up her equilibrium. “Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
She looked up at him and realized just how much taller he was without her high heels to make up the difference.
He craned his neck and furrowed his brow. “That’s an interesting tattoo.”
She self-consciously reached back. “I totally forgot it was showing.”
“I like it.” He smiled. “It’s nice.”
“Thanks.” She returned the smile. “Some people aren’t big on girls with ink.”
He shrugged. “I’m not some people.” He gestured at her tattoo. “Is that your only one?”
“No, I have more.”
“I have a few myself.” His smile turned to a mouthwatering grin. “Show me yours, I’ll show you mine.”
“I’ve already shown you one of mine. I think you owe me one.”
Disbelief flickered across his expression, as if he wasn’t used to women who could keep up with him. “I suppose I do, don’t I?” He glanced toward the glow coming from the party they’d left behind, and then undid his bowtie. His long fingers mesmerized her as he opened the first few buttons of his shirt, and the glimpse of skin underneath sped up her pulse.
He tugged his partially opened shirt aside, along with the collar of the white T-shirt beneath, and revealed a somewhat faded wolf etched into his left pec. As she stared at it, Alyssa almost convinced herself it was the tattoo she wanted to reach out and touch. Somehow she doubted he’d believe that excuse.
“Very nice,” she said.
“Thank you.” He fixed his bowtie and collar.
A cool breeze rushed past them, and she folded her arms tightly across her almost-exposed chest.
He raised his eyebrows. “Want a jacket?”
“Oh, don’t worry about it.” She hugged herself a little tighter. “I’m okay.”
Shane smirked, then unbuttoned his jacket and shrugged it off. Holding it out, he said, “Here. No sense freezing to death.”
“So you’ll freeze for me?”
He laughed. “I have a shirt on.” His gaze slid down her mostly exposed chest, then rose to meet her eyes again. “You, on the other hand…”
Trying not to laugh, Alyssa reached out and took the jacket. She pretended the soft fabric—cool from being out here in the wind, but still holding some of his body heat—didn’t remind her of their walk down the aisle earlier.
Pulling it around her shoulders, she shivered again, this time because of the warmth. No, no, it did not feel like his skin against hers. It didn’t make her wonder at all what it would be like to have his arms around her instead of his jacket. It didn’t.
“Hmm,” Shane said, thumbing his chin, “this does mean I have a more obscured view now, doesn’t it?”
She laughed in spite of her burning cheeks.
“I mean, Hannah does have damned good taste in bridesmaid’s dresses,” he said. “Color aside.”
“Oh, so it’s the dress you want to look at?”
“Well, yeah.” He batted his eyes. “What did you think I meant?”
Alyssa clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Let me guess. This is the part where you tell me my dress would look better in a rumpled heap on your bedroom floor?”
“Nope.” He gave her another down-up glance, then met her gaze. “This is the part where I tell you that dress would look a hell of a lot better with the skirt shoved up over your hips.”
Her lips parted.
He grinned. “I like to have something to hold on to.”
Alyssa gulped. “You’re very direct.”
“When I see something I want, yes.” He paused. “You don’t strike me as particularly shy yourself.”
“I can be.”
“Can you?”
“When I see something I want and I’m not sure if I should go for it.”
“And if you think you should go for it?”
“Then it just depends on the situation.”
“Hmm. Sounds like way too much thought.”
“So you don’t give it any thought, then? You just go for it?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I give it some thought. I run through a few scenarios in my head, a few possible outcomes, and decide if it’s worth the risk.”
“And if it is worth the risk?”
“Then I can be pretty aggressive.”
“Is that right?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Me too.” She grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him.