“What do you think?” Jordan gestured toward the incredible, three-story, luxury yacht they’d be sharing for the next week.
Sasha’s eyes widened as she surveyed the large, gleaming vessel and its crew standing on deck, ready to serve their every need. Her mouth fell open.
She was clearly impressed, whether she was willing to admit it or not.
“This is the ‘little boat’?”
“You object?”
“It’s incredible. But all of this...” she stammered, indicating the ten-person, luxury yacht. “It’s just for us?”
“Us and the diligent eight-person crew that comes with it.” He stepped aside, nodding his thanks to two crew members who began loading their luggage onto the ship.
Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “I can’t... I mean, I shouldn’t—”
“Relax, love. If you’re worried that I’m squandering my fortune in an effort to woo you...don’t. The ship belongs to a friend.” Jordan pulled his shades from his breast pocket and put them on. “And if you’ve any qualms about our sleeping arrangements...” He swallowed a grin as she gasped quietly and the flush of her cheeks deepened. “There are four staterooms, in addition to the master suite, so you needn’t worry.”
“All right, then. I’m in.” Sasha released a long, slow breath and nodded, still surveying the regal vessel. “But regardless of how glamorous this yacht may be, this is a working trip for me, not a vacation.”
“Well, we must see what we can do to remedy that.” Jordan tried his best to restrain a grin. “I know you’re quite dedicated, but I’m sure we can manage to fit a bit of fun into the next seven days.”
Her expression softened slightly and a smile curved one edge of her mouth. “I suppose you’re right. After all, who knows when I’ll get another opportunity like this. But work comes first. No exceptions.”
“Agreed.” He extended his elbow, escorted her up the gangway stairs and to her lovely stateroom.
Jordan made his way to the master suite and settled in, a smile plastered on his face. By the end of their trip down to Mazatlán and Puerto Vallarta, he had every intention of helping Sasha Charles learn to loosen up a bit. Preferably in his bed.
* * *
Sasha tucked the last of her clothing into a built-in dresser in her generously appointed stateroom. As beautiful and spacious as the room was, she couldn’t imagine how decadent the master suite must be.
Nor did she have any intention of finding out.
Jordan occupied the master suite near the bow of the yacht, while her room was located near the stern. Beneath them, a small village of crew members were busy preparing their lunch, which would be served on deck shortly.
Sasha paced the cabin filled with warm sunlight. Fresh sea air filtered in through the door of the small, private balcony.
She was on an incredible ship, taking an all-expenses-paid cruise to Mazatlán and Puerto Vallarta. A heavenly scent wafted through the space, courtesy of two large bouquets of red roses and pink Asiatic lilies and gerbera daisies.
Sasha inhaled the calming scent. Breathed in and out as her pulse slowed down.
It was clear why Jordan’s mother had hired her. The bad boy, demanding artist image the public had of him was completely wrong.
Jordan was incredibly smart, intensely passionate about his art and exceedingly committed to the causes he cared about. Her opinion of him had improved greatly upon getting to know him.
She admired him. Wanted him.
Admiring a client was ideal. Desiring him and wondering how it would’ve felt if she’d let him kiss her probably weren’t the best uses of her time.
Keep it professional and everything will be fine.
After all, Jordan Jace wasn’t the first wealthy, handsome client she’d worked with. He wasn’t even the first to flirt with her.
So why did everything about working with Jordan feel different?
Sasha’s knee bounced involuntarily and her belly twisted in knots. She tried to push Jordan from her mind. But when she closed her eyes, all she could see was his handsome face.
Narrow, deep-set eyes. A wide, generous smile that usually hinted at the mischief that always seemed to be happening inside that beautiful man’s head. Intense eyes and a heart-stopping smile.
Today he’d worn his hair in soft twists in the crown, while the sides were cut low. He looked like he’d stepped out of a nautical clothing catalog in a navy shirt with white polka dots, white shorts and navy boat shoes.
The light, fitted attire highlighted his strong biceps, muscular thighs and incredibly toned bottom. Heat made its way down her spine and pooled low in her belly as she imagined how enticing his body must look beneath his clothing. Radiant brown skin, rippling with muscles underneath. A smattering of fine hair.
Her neck and chest flushed with arousal, and her nipples beaded painfully.
Sasha paced the floor, her heart thudding. She’d committed to spending seven days sailing the seas virtually alone with Jordan Jace.
What an arrogant, boneheaded mistake.
She’d gone on lots of working trips with other clients—both male and female. And she was determined to prove that Jordan Jace was no different.
But it was a lie she’d been trying to sell herself on, when all along she knew the truth. This trip was very different because Jordan was unlike any man she’d ever known.
She’d gone on past client trips begrudgingly, despite the exotic locations. But when Jordan had proposed this trip, her heart leaped in her chest. She relished the opportunity to have Jordan all to herself for an entire week.
Eyes pressed closed, she released a deep sigh. She’d screwed up royally.
“Sasha.” Jordan knocked at the door. “Are you ready?”
She took another deep breath before opening the door and greeting him with a big smile. As if everything was fine. “Yes.”
His gaze dropped momentarily to the pebbled nubs visible through the gauzy, yellow material of her sundress. Jordan cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Thought you might need an escort to the sundeck where we’re having lunch.” He looked anywhere but her eyes or at her chest. Crimson bloomed beneath the brown skin on his cheeks. “Just until you learn your way around the ship.”
Sasha thanked Jordan and joined him in the hall. He led her to the sundeck where a lovely alfresco meal of seafood pasta was served.
He helped her into her chair, then took a seat across from her.
Their pasta was divine, and she enjoyed Jordan’s company, as always. When they’d finished their meal, the chief stewardess cleared their places, leaving a small platter of fruit and two small plates.
Sasha scanned the full lips that had been such a distraction all afternoon. Regret bubbled in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t quite remember why she hadn’t let Jordan Jace kiss her.
* * *
Jordan shifted under Sasha’s heated gaze. He clenched, then unclenched his fists. Reminded himself to stay the course.
The cruise was only the beginning. He had big plans for Sasha Charles as they sailed to Mexico and back. But his plans would implode if he rushed her.
He wanted to kiss her. To pull her onto his lap in that yellow sundress and claim the soft lips that had taunted him for the past hour. Tease the pert nipples that had been peeking through the thin material, tantalizing him. Making his mouth water with his spiraling need for her.
Patience, mate. Don’t be so direct, so predictable.
Sasha seemed to anticipate him trying to kiss her again. And from the way she’d been staring longingly at his mouth throughout their meal, he’d no doubt that another attempt to kiss her would receive a much different response.
He wasn’t sure why Sasha’s rebuff that day haunted him so. He had a king-size ego, to be sure. But he wasn’t so arrogant as to believe he was the pot of gold at the end of every woman’s rainbow.
Something about Sasha Charles had burrowed its way beneath his skin and gotten cozy. He’d found himself focused on her at the most importune times. Like when another woman was openly flirting with him. Yet, all he’d been able to think of was Sasha.
Her remarkable smile. Her biting sense of humor. The lightness that rose in his chest whenever he was in her company.
Jordan released a quiet sigh. Part frustration with himself for his preoccupation with Sasha. Part admiration for the woman who engendered such adoration.
A saner man would cut his losses, put his wounded pride in his pocket and walk away. But his curiosity had the better of him. He needed to understand exactly what it was about Sasha Charles that made him so crazy. And he was willing to bet there was something about him that made Sasha crazy, too.
So, to avoid another polite rejection, he wouldn’t attempt to kiss her. Not because his ego was too fragile to sustain such an objection. Because he relished the idea of making her want him enough that she would relinquish her self-imposed rules.
“Ready to review the branding strategy?” It hurt him to suggest something so sensible. Especially when he couldn’t get the image of her nipples straining against her sundress out of his head.
“You actually want to work on the plan?” She looked bewildered. Perhaps even disappointed. “Right now?”
“It’s as good a time as any.” Jordan sipped his ginger beer. He’d taken a play from Sasha’s playbook. He was determined to keep his head clear. He would follow the plan, rather than giving in to his impulses where she was concerned.
She opened her phone and reviewed some of her ideas for making over his website, social media accounts and gallery marketing materials. They made him inexplicably uneasy. Not because they weren’t brilliant ideas. Because they were brilliant ideas for someone else.
“I don’t fancy the idea of allowing the general public into my life, into my process.” Jordan shifted in his chair. “Take away the heavy curtain, and where’s the magic? It’s gone, because there’s no mystery left to solve.”
“I appreciate your thinking on this. I really do. But ravenous fans—the kind you want—they want access. They want to know what you do and how your mind works. They want to know where you eat, what kind of clothes you wear and where your inspiration comes from.”
“I don’t think I’d want to know all of that about anyone. It’d bore me to tears. Don’t these people have lives of their own?”
“Most do. For them, living vicariously through someone else is an escape. A fun way to spend a few minutes here or there. For others, it’s a way to feel a sense of kinship with an artist they admire. It deepens their connection, making them a loyal fan who’ll buy from you again and again.”
“I’m sure you’re right, but I prefer the days when one needn’t post photos of one’s breakfast in order to sell a sculpture.” He leaned back in his seat. “What does it matter what I eat for breakfast or with whom I take it? And why should it matter what designer I’m wearing or where I vacation?”
“Consumers want openness and authenticity. They want to know who the real Jordan Jace is...beyond the bad boy image you project to everyone. What motivates you? Is it the money and the fame? Or is it the opportunity to give your parents the middle finger by achieving success without them while doing something they don’t respect?”
“Are you asking because it’s pertinent to my brand, or are you asking for yourself?” He shifted in his seat, unnerved by her spot-on analysis.
“Both, I guess.” She shrugged. “After all, one feeds the other.”
“All of the above.” Jordan’s throat tightened and his lungs constricted. Why was he so bothered by Sasha Charles thinking ill of him? “But you’ve neglected the most important motivator. My passion for the art itself. Whatever else you might think of me, Sasha, you must realize how very committed I am to what I do. That every single sculpture I create, commissioned or not, bears a small piece of me.”
“That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” Sasha’s eyes lit up as her fingers moved quickly across her mobile screen. “That’s the kind of passion and transparency we need to bring to your brand.”
“Look, Sasha, I appreciate what you’re trying to do. I honestly do. I can see why my mother was so taken with you. You’re quite brilliant.” Jordan walked over to the railing and leaned against it, his arms folded. “But I’ve no intention of fundamentally changing who I am. For anyone or any reason.”
“You think my job is to change you? It isn’t. And that’s not what I’m asking at all.” Sasha grabbed a slice of mango and joined him at the railing. She bit into the sweet, fragrant fruit and chewed thoughtfully. “The problem isn’t who you are and what you represent. It’s that people don’t really know who you are or what you represent.” Sasha’s voice softened and she gave him a look of pity. “That includes your parents.”
Jordan’s jaw tensed and he sighed. “I don’t much care what my parents think, and I’ve given up trying to appease them. They won’t be satisfied with anything short of me dying a thousand deaths of boredom while lost in spreadsheets all day like my brothers. It’s fine for them, but it isn’t me. And it never will be. Not ever. So, if the point of all this is to slowly transform me into a boring old f—”
Sasha reached out and pressed her hand to his mouth, her fingers sweet and sticky with the mango juice. Her sudden action seemed to take them both by surprise.
She withdrew her hand, her chest quickly rising and falling. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, obviously, I wasn’t really thinking at all. I just needed you to stop talking for one minute and actually listen to what it is I’m trying to say to you.”
“And exactly what is it you are trying to say?”
“That I don’t want you to change. Because I think you’re remarkable. You’re smart and you’re handsome and God are you talented.” The admiration and affection in her eyes made his chest swell. “You’re an amazing artist, Jordan, and an even better man. So no, I’m not asking you to change. I’m saying we need to better communicate who you are and what you’re about.”
It was the loveliest, most sincere thing anyone had ever said to him. Stated by the most pleasing, yet perplexing woman he’d ever met.
“Kind of you to say.” He finally broke their silence. “And I don’t mean to be difficult.”
“No, of course not. Ultimately, it’s your image and reputation and you want to protect it. I can certainly respect that.”
“Good.” Jordan nodded once. “In which case, I promise to trust you and follow your lead on this.”
He licked his lower lip, tasting the mango juice she’d left there. His focus shifted to her mouth, and his desire to taste her lips. He stuffed his hands into his pockets.
Space, he needed space.
“Seems we’re done here. If you need anything, anything at all, ring the chief stewardess. She’ll get you whatever it is you need.”
“You’re leaving?” She frowned.
“It’s a working holiday, after all. I’ll be sketching most of the evening and late into the night.”
“So I’m on my own for dinner?” Her voice was tinged with disappointment.
“Wouldn’t be so rude as to make you eat alone your first night onboard.” He smiled. “But I’m taking dinner in my suite while I work. You’re welcome to join me there, if you’d like. I’ll try to take a break round eight.”
Sasha narrowed her gaze, her lips pursed. She nodded. “See you at eight.”
“Perfect.” He leaned in a little closer. “I have one rule about dinner tonight. We don’t talk business.”
“Isn’t that the point of me being here?”
“During the day, I’m your client and you’re my branding strategist. During the evening, we’re two people on their own time, getting to know one another. Deal?”
Sasha chewed her lower lip, her nose scrunched. Then she nodded. “Deal. And I really am sorry about putting my hand over your mouth earlier. That isn’t like me. I’m not sure what came over me, but it won’t happen again.”
“In the event that it does, I prefer pineapple.” He winked, then walked away.
* * *
Sasha smoothed her skirt down, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
Eyes above his neck, hands to yourself and everything will be fine.
She lifted her hand, pausing a moment before knocking on the door. No answer. She waited a bit, then knocked again. Harder this time. Still no answer.
Jordan had made it clear they wouldn’t be discussing business. So, if he’d bailed on their dinner date, she could eat in her own stateroom, answer a few emails and maybe do some client work. Or she could binge watch one of the many television series she needed to catch up on.
Neither was a bad option when set on a ship as gorgeous as this one.
So why was she crushed by the possibility that Jordan had decided he had something better to do tonight?
The door swung open suddenly, taking her by surprise.
“Sorry, love. I hopped in the shower and time got away from me.” Jordan tugged a black T-shirt down over his strong, taut abs. “Hope you weren’t waiting long.”
Eyes above the neck. Eyes above the neck.
“Not at all.” Sasha quickly raised her eyes to his. “But if this is a bad time...”
“Your timing is perfect.” Jordan looked beyond her at the staff rolling a cart toward them. He held the door open wider, stepping aside to let them enter.
“Jordan, this suite is amazing.” Sasha’s gaze swept around the bright, open, two-story master suite.
A spiral staircase anchored the center of the room. A shiny, black baby grand piano dominated one corner. And the stateroom had its own private sundeck.
“I can see why you enjoy working here.” She gestured toward the easel set up near the observation deck. “I’d be inspired working here, too.”
“I don’t normally use this particular vessel for my working holidays, but I like to take them a couple of times each year. Gives me time alone, a chance to think and a fresh perspective.”
“Then I’m intruding on your creative holiday, aren’t I?”
“I invited you here.” He braced her shoulders. His voice was low and sincere. His dark eyes shone. “I wouldn’t have, if I didn’t want your company.”
A sense of relief crept down Sasha’s spine, even as her body tensed from being so close to Jordan. His warmth and captivating scent drew her closer like an insect in summer drawn to the front porch light.
“Thank you for having me.” Her words were barely louder than a whisper.
“Will that be all for now, Mr. Jace?” The chief stewardess seemed reluctant to interrupt them.
Jordan excused himself to speak with the woman privately, and Sasha went to the sundeck. The view was lovely, and the water was calming. A cool, salty breeze rustled her skirt. The sheer, white curtains billowed around her.
She smoothed down her skirt and turned around to meet Jordan’s gaze. He leaned against the wall, his arms folded as he watched her. Her cheeks warmed and her stomach flipped as she held his heated gaze, neither of them speaking.
“Dinner’s ready.” He pulled out a chair at the small table near the sundeck. “I decided to forego full service tonight. I thought it would give us a chance to talk. Hope you don’t mind.”
“No, of course not.” She took her seat as he uncovered their meals. Fresh lobster, crab and scallops, and a creamy, mushroom risotto. “Everything looks incredible, Jordan. Thank you for accommodating me for dinner tonight. It looks like you were busy. I’m sorry if our meal is interrupting your creative burst.”
Jordan sat across from her, spread his napkin and put it in his lap. “Don’t be. You’re the reason I’ve been feeling so inspired lately.”
“Me?” Butterflies flitted in her belly. “Why?”
“That’s one of the reasons I invited you along on this trip.” He poured them both a glass of wine. “I hope to unravel the mystery. One way or another.”
Sasha’s cheeks flamed, and she gulped down some of the water she was drinking, to extinguish the heat rising in her core.
“Tell me more about this series of sculptures you’re working on.” Better to avoid delving into the meaning of his statement.
Jordan gave her a knowing smile and sipped a little of his wine. “Remember my one rule for dinner? We don’t discuss business.”
“Right.” She took a bite of her gourmet meal and murmured with delight.
Jordan’s eyes darkened in response and he drank a little more of his wine before setting the glass down. He picked up his utensils and took the first bite.
“You told me about your family and that you grew up here in San Diego. How’d you become best friends with Vaughn’s wife, Miranda? She’s from Chicago, isn’t she?”
“We went to college together and hit it off as freshmen. Been friends ever since, though we hadn’t seen each other in a while before Miranda moved here.”
“How long ago was that?”
“Shortly before she met Vaughn.”
Sasha needn’t go into details about how Miranda had come to San Diego in search of a husband. Or how her marriage of convenience to Vaughn turned into a real, genuine love.
The kind she wanted for herself someday.
Sasha had done her stint with casual dating. She was over it. Watching Vaughn and Miranda together was a revelation. She wanted a love like theirs. Or at least a serious relationship that could potentially lead to love and marriage.
She was done wasting her time with men who still acted like college frat boys. Determined to sleep their way across campus.
Men like Jordan Jace, if the rumors on blogs and online magazines were any indication.
Then again, upon deeper inspection, she’d found her initial perception of Jordan to be all wrong.
Maybe she was wrong about this, too.
“Speaking of friends...you seem to have quite a lot. Women friends, that is.” She speared a succulent scallop. “It’s amazing you find time to sculpt.”
His gaze narrowed and his lips pressed together in a smirk as he watched her eat. He took a sip of his water and set the glass down.
“If there’s something you need to ask me, Sasha, please do. I’ve nothing to hide.” He took a bite of his meal.
Her mouth suddenly felt dry and a knot tightened in her stomach. “I thought we weren’t discussing business tonight.”
“And how is an inquiry into my love life related to our business dealings?” He tilted his head, assessing her.
“Everything. Because your mother didn’t just hire me to help build your business. She and your father were adamant that I focus on cleaning up your reputation.”
His eyes widened and he put his utensils down with a clang.
Sasha put her fork down, too. She raised a hand. “Before you get angry with me or them, let me explain.”
Jordan folded his arms. “I’m listening.”
“Your mother truly does believe that you’re a talented artist. That you could easily become a global superstar. A household name.”
“I find that difficult to believe.” Jordan’s brows knitted, his tone caustic.
“It’s true.” Sasha smiled softly, remembering her conversation with Eva Jace. “I know a proud mother when I see one.”
“And do proud mums usually send someone out to ‘fix’ their children’s reputations?” His nostrils flared.
“Sometimes.” She shrugged, then sighed. “Look, your mother simply believes that your reputation of being demanding and...well, difficult, might be hampering you from being offered some incredible opportunities. And...”
“And...what?” Jordan folded his arms on the table as he leaned forward, head tilted.
“And she’d like to see you get some positive press for a change. Rather than stories about you and your flavor of the month.” Sasha’s cheeks stung with heat.
“My mother wants me to settle down and give her grandchildren.” He took another bite of his food. “Not interested.”
His adamant response felt like a punch to the gut.
“Monogamy isn’t your thing, I assume.” She tried not to sound like a kid who’d just learned that Santa and the Easter Bunny weren’t real.
He grunted. “Bucks human nature, as evidenced by the astronomical divorce rate.”
“Your parents seem happy together, as do mine. And Vaughn and Miranda—”
“Barely know each other.” He sighed, sitting back in his chair. “I know she’s your best friend. So I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true.”
“They make each other happy.” She shoved her food around her plate, her appetite suddenly gone.
“For now.” He put a forkful of food in his mouth. “Don’t get me wrong, Sasha. I don’t wish ill of them at all. Quite the contrary. I’d love it if they were to prove me wrong. And I wish them eternal happiness together.”
“But you don’t really believe it’s possible. And it isn’t something you’d want for yourself.” Sasha stabbed a poor, defenseless shrimp. Her fork clanged against the dish, drawing Jordan’s attention.
Heat swept up the back of her neck and across her cheeks as he assessed her with something akin to pity.
“Look, I didn’t mean to upset you. But you asked me a question and I answered it truthfully.” His voice was softer. Apologetic. “I’d think that’s what you’d want. For me to be honest.”
“It is, of course.” She forced a cursory smile. “I just think it’s... I don’t know...sad. That’s all.”
Jordon put down his fork and cocked his head. “You think I’m the pitiful one because I don’t believe in some fairy-tale eternal love that has failed half the general population?” He sounded amused. “That’s rich. I’ve always considered it to be the other way around.”
“You feel sorry for Vaughn and Miranda?”
“Not them specifically, but folks in general who spend most of their lives unhappy, in search of something as rare as sightings of Sasquatch.”
“Do you really believe that? That love is an unobtainable impossibility?” She wanted to be indignant, but instead her heart broke for him.
He sighed heavily. “Life is far too short to waste it on something that may or may not happen for me. I’d rather live each day to its fullest. Take life as it comes. I’m less apt to be disappointed that way.”
“Hmm...” Sasha nodded. Suddenly things seemed quite clear.
“That was a sound full of meaning, if ever I heard one.” He forced a smile. “Let me guess, you’ve come up with some brilliant analysis of exactly what my problem is.”
“You could say that.”
“And will you leave me twisting in the wind, or do you care to share with the class?” His eyes twinkled with amusement.
“I think you’re scared. Terrified, in fact. Godzilla’s coming, run-for-your-life scared.”
“Scared? Of what? Do tell.”
“Of getting your heart broken.” She shrugged. “Same as the rest of us. Only, the rest of us are brave enough to take the chance.”
Jordan was no longer amused. He narrowed his gaze and gulped some of his water.
“You think I’m frightened of having my feelings hurt? Failure and disappointment...that’s part of life, love. I often take risks with my work. One can’t be avant-garde without the nads to buck a few trends.”
“True. But it takes more courage to be vulnerable to someone and truly let them into your life, doesn’t it?”
“We’re as different as chalk and cheese in some regards, yet...” Jordan tapped one finger on the table as he assessed her. He seemed to be carefully debating his next words. “Look, Sasha, I might as well put my cards on the table. You know how very attracted I am to you. Am I wrong in thinking you feel the same?”
Sasha swallowed hard. Her heart raced and her pulse pounded in her ears. “You’re a client, and I don’t get involved with my clients. Regardless of how I feel about them personally.”
“And how do you feel about me...personally?” The amusement had returned to his voice and to those captivating eyes.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me,” he insisted.
She sighed. “Fine. Yes, I’m attracted to you. I find you handsome and intriguing. I’m floored by your talent and moved by your concern for the environment and your willingness to mentor young artists.”
“So why not explore our mutual admiration and have a bit of fun together?” His hand crept closer to hers on the table. “Because I’m quite taken with you, Sasha. I think we would get on well together.”
“I’m not interested in a casual fling,” she said abruptly, debating whether to put all her cards on the table, too. “I’ve been there and done that too many times before. I want something real. I want what Vaughn and Miranda have. And I could never have that with you because you’ve made it quite clear that isn’t what you want.”
“I see.” He lowered his gaze briefly before it returned to hers. “And you’re quite sure you wouldn’t consider it?”
“I’m sorry if that means this trip is a waste for you.”
“Not at all.” The disappointment in his eyes belied his warm smile. “You’re a fascinating woman, Sasha. And I quite enjoy your company, regardless of the circumstances.”
Sasha smiled, relieved. They enjoyed the rest of their meal in cordial, relaxed conversation. Still, she couldn’t let go of the small hope that Jordan might change his mind.
“One more thing,” Jordan said. “I’d like you to be my guest at a private event I’m hosting at Sorella next week.”
“What kind of event?”
“It’s a mixer for Prescott George. I offered to host it after we talked about my being more social in the group.”
She grinned. Maybe Jordan Jace wasn’t a lost cause, after all. “I’d love to.”