Niall traversed the entire boat before it left the dock, checking every foot from stem to stern, memorizing the location of every safety feature, from inside and outside stairways, to life rafts, to the emergency cords. But that wasn’t all. He located the bar, the lounges, the exercise room and the computer room. He went up to the top deck, with its romantic swings for two, and down to the bottom deck where the crew rooms were.
He was standing on the prow, his arms akimbo and his hands on his hips, thinking Savannah would probably get a kick out of a Titanic moment in this spot when they finally got underway, when he had the eerie sensation of being watched. He didn’t turn sharply to see if he could catch whomever it was, because he didn’t want that person or persons to know he’d sensed them. Didn’t want them to know he was on guard against them, that he was anything other than a tourist.
He stood there for one minute, then two, until the feeling went way. Still, he was careful to signal his intention to turn around before he actually did it, glancing around and upward in a seemingly casual move.
“Hi, Niall!” Mary Beth Thompson waved from the sundeck above him to get his attention. Herb waved, too, after a moment, and Niall waved back.
“Hey there,” he called up. “Do you know when we’re supposed to set sail?” He glanced at his watch to give the impression he wasn’t sure, even though he had the entire itinerary memorized and already knew departure was set for midnight.
“Sometime after dinner is all I know,” Mary Beth called back. “And speaking of dinner, it starts at five. Herb and I would love it if—”
“Thanks,” he replied before she could get the invitation out, heading for the door into the lounge. “I’d better go unpack before dinner.”
Niall carefully considered the Thompsons as suspects as he headed toward Savannah’s stateroom. He’d received a preliminary background report on them as well as all the others on the tour, but so far they seemed to be exactly as they came across: affable, wealthy, not that smart. And friendly to a fault. That overabundance of camaraderie kept them on his suspect list, because he could easily see how someone might befriend Savannah as a way to cozen her, to earn her trust and get close enough to kidnap her. And he did find it suspicious they were on the deck above him when he felt he was being watched. No one else had been around.
But the Thompsons weren’t his only suspects, not by a long shot. It could just as easily be Tammy and Martin Williams, although their preliminary background report had also come back clean. But that didn’t mean anything. It just meant that a Tammy and Martin Williams existed. It didn’t mean this couple hadn’t assumed those identities.
The same could go for all the others on the tour. They might be who they said they were, but then again they might not. Someone was after Savannah—he hadn’t imagined those masked intruders, hadn’t imagined the slash on his arm.
He needed something more to go on. First on the agenda? Fingerprints. Which meant, despite Savannah’s aversion to Mary Beth’s company, it looked as if dinner with the Thompsons tonight was in the cards.
* * *
Savannah finished her own unpacking, then stared at Niall’s suitcase, carry-on and knapsack, wondering if she should—No! she told herself firmly. Not only would it be an intrusion on his privacy, but it would smack too much of something a wife would do. And though part of her thrilled to the idea of being Niall’s wife, another part said, Whoa! Don’t get carried away by the fantasy. You and Niall aren’t dating. What you have is a sexual relationship based on high intensity chemistry and liking on both sides. The fact that you’re falling in love with him is irrelevant to the equation.
Thinking of equations started her down another path, one related to her previous job. With nothing else to do, she got out her laptop and opened the file where she’d been jotting down random notes and equations—nothing classified, nothing that would make sense to anyone but her—just things she wanted to remember when and if she went back to being a GNC engineer.
She stared at one of them for the longest time, puzzling over something she knew wasn’t quite right but couldn’t figure out why. Then it came to her, and she changed one sign in the equation from positive to negative. “That’s it!” she whispered, excited she’d resolved the problem.
A rap at the door and Niall’s voice calling her name made Savannah quickly log off and slip her laptop back in its case, then hurry to open the door.
* * *
“You can’t possibly be serious.” Savannah was staring at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Dinner with the Thompsons?”
“And as many of the rest of the couples from our tour group as we can fit at our table. Tomorrow at breakfast, we’ll pick different couples. Same goes for lunch and dinner tomorrow, too.”
“But...” She cast him a pleading look. “This is our first night on board. Do we have to ruin it with Mary Beth’s incessant chatter?”
“I need fingerprints. If you know of another way, I’ll be happy to try it.” He knew there wasn’t, but he had to at least pretend to give Savannah a choice. He drew her into his embrace, rocking her a little in comfort. “If it wasn’t crucial, I wouldn’t ask, but it is.” He crooked a finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “And I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” He waggled his eyebrows the same way he’d done the day before, forcing a reluctant chuckle out of her.
“Money?” she asked with a pretend hopefulness.
“Better than money.”
“Ahhh...” She nodded wisely. “You’re bribing me with sex. That’s illegal, you know.”
He grinned because he knew by her teasing tone she accepted the necessity of dinner with Mary Beth and Herb. “Yeah, I know it’s illegal,” he murmured, sliding his hands up to caress the sides of her breasts. “But only if you turn me in.”
She shivered, but he knew it was in a good way, so he kept going, slipping his fingers between them to toy with her nipples until they peaked for him. She wasn’t ready to surrender, however, and he loved that about her. “A man who would steal a car from his own father...” she began with fake self-righteousness.
“Says the woman who stole a Bible.”
“Hey!” She feigned shock and dismay. “You said confession was good for the soul. You can’t use that against me now!”
He couldn’t resist—he kissed her. Once he started, it was nearly impossible to stop, because she kissed him back. Because she rocked against what had instantly become hard, and moaned in the needy way she had that drove him crazy.
And just like that he had to have her.
He tumbled her onto the bed and tore at his belt buckle. The button on his jeans. The zipper. And Savannah was doing the same with her own clothes. He freed himself and reached for her, then stopped cold and cursed.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please, Niall.”
“Condom.”
“Oh, damn!” He actually thought she was going to cry.
“Hang tight.” He scrabbled in his pants pocket until he came up with his wallet and extracted the condom he’d put in there yesterday. He held the packet between his teeth and ripped, then sheathed himself in record time. “Say the word,” he managed when he was poised at the threshold.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
He thrust deep as she arched into him. For just a second, he rejoiced that never once had they needed lubricant, and they still didn’t. Then he couldn’t think at all, just feel this incredible woman throbbing all around him. So close to coming just from wanting him, which was a huge turn-on. Meeting him thrust for thrust. Clinging to his hips with frantic hands as if she were afraid he might stop...and she couldn’t let him stop.
It could have been over in no time, but Niall gritted his teeth and held back with an effort. No way was he flying solo. Savannah was coming with him or he wasn’t flying at all.
He reached between their bodies and stroked the heart of her desire, and that was all it took. She bucked beneath him and came hard, sobbing his name. A handful of thrusts later, he came, too, her name on his lips.
* * *
Niall surfaced when the soft, warm body at his side suddenly vanished. “What...”
But she was already gone. He heard the shower running and acknowledged he needed one, too. One-handed, he stripped over his head the shirt he hadn’t managed to get off earlier, and tossed it to one side. He jackknifed off the bed and nearly tripped when he tried to stand, which was the moment he realized he’d been so desperate he hadn’t managed to get his pants completely off.
“Crap.” That had never happened to him before. He’d never needed a woman to the extent he’d needed Savannah this afternoon, more proof she was unique in his experience. More proof his attachment to her was strengthening by the hour.
He shucked his jeans and reached the bathroom just as the water cut off. “Uh-uh,” he told her when she started to step out of the shower, and he crowded her back in. Then, “Damn,” as he realized two things. First, the shower stall was barely wide enough to accommodate one body, much less two. Second, he couldn’t possibly stand erect in the cubicle; it hadn’t been designed for a man who topped six foot two.
Savannah was laughing, which made him laugh, and she squeezed past him, her wet, naked body rubbing against him. Deliberately? he wondered, then answered, Hell yes, when she smiled and ran teasing fingers over his abs as she stepped out.
Two minutes later, after some awkward gyrations, he was finally done and he turned off the water. He maneuvered out of the shower stall and found a towel waiting for him. A towel and a very amused woman in panties and a bra.
“You were watching?” he growled.
“You bet. And I enjoyed every minute of the show.”
She trailed one hand over his pecs and down. Down. Over his abs, then grasping his—
“Hey, none of that,” he told her, interposing the towel between her hand and its target.
She laughed in what could only be described as the gloating tones of a cartoon villain, and he chuckled softly, but for a totally different reason. This Savannah was a world away from the woman who’d told him she wasn’t very good at sex. This Savannah knew damn well she was...with the right man.
He loved her sexual banter, loved her teasing, because it proved beyond a shadow of a doubt her confidence in herself as a woman had been restored. Your doing, he acknowledged with a flash of pride he couldn’t quite suppress.
He took a step toward her, but she was already gone, calling, “Want me to get some clean clothes out of your suitcase for you?”
All humor fled as he realized he couldn’t possibly let her look inside his suitcase. “That’s okay,” he said quickly, his heartbeat increasing until he remembered. “It’s locked anyway.”
A muffled voice answered him. “Oh, you’re right.” She reappeared in the bathroom doorway, still dressed in nothing but her underwear, apparently no longer shy about letting him see her body. Another triumph. “It’s casual for dinner, right?”
“Considering I only have one pair of dress slacks with me, I damn well hope so.”
“Good. I mostly packed casual clothes, too. And strong walking shoes.”
Savannah turned toward the closet and Niall dropped the towel, sliding his arms around her from behind in a hug of easy intimacy, wanting to let her know how happy he was she didn’t feel the need to be shy with him any longer. But when she froze, he cursed internally, released her instantly and stepped back. “God, Savannah, I forgot. I’m so sorry.”
Her face was paler than usual when she turned around, but otherwise she was composed. “It’s okay,” she reassured him. “I only panicked for a second. Then I realized it was you and I...” She reached up to cup his cheek. “Really, I’m okay.”
Remorse swamped him. He knew. He knew about her psychosis. Hadn’t he carried her out of the crowd yesterday so she wouldn’t panic? “I don’t know what the hell I was thinking,” he admitted. “I just...”
“I want you to feel you can touch me anytime,” she said in a low voice. “Any way you want. I’ve been fighting this stupid fear for so many years now, you’d think I’d be over it. But no. I’m a coward.” The self-loathing was biting, and Niall couldn’t bear to hear it in her voice.
“That’s enough of that.” His voice was stern. “You’re not a coward, so don’t let me hear you say that again about yourself. You’ve made great strides. You have. You’re here, aren’t you? You faced the crowds at the Great Wall, the Forbidden City, the terracotta army museum.”
“Yes, but—”
“But nothing. Maybe someday your fear will be banished for good, but in the meantime it’s my job to remember and respect that fear. It’s my job to help you any way I can, and I will. Because the last thing I want is for you to be afraid of me in any way. I won’t forget again, I promise.”
* * *
It wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped to retrieve the wineglasses, Niall realized once he and Savannah were seated at a table for eight with the Thompsons and two other couples from their tour bus, ostensibly from Australia and England. He figured he’d have to settle for one set of prints this evening, maybe two, when the appetizer trays were brought to the table. And that’s when he realized the glossy surface of the china trays would hold fingerprints just as well as wineglasses. He watched the trays being handed from one person to another until they’d made the rounds. And when the waiter came to remove the now-empty appetizer trays, Niall excused himself, saying, “Forgot my stomach medication in my room. I’ll be right back.”
He squeezed Savannah’s hand in a warning, and she rose to the occasion. “Don’t you hate when you forget something like that?” she commiserated, glancing from Niall to Mary Beth, who was verbally off and running practically before he’d left the table.
“Don’t I know it!” Mary Beth exclaimed. “Why, one time I forgot my high blood pressure medicine and Herb had to take a cab back to the hotel to retrieve it, because I’m supposed to take it at the same time every day. And then there was that time I...”
He could still hear her as he passed through the service door after the waiter bearing the dishes from their table. Five minutes and a hundred yuan later, he carried the trays up to his cabin on Deck Five. He quickly retrieved a small leather kit from his carry-on suitcase in Savannah’s stateroom, then returned to his own cabin and went to work.
* * *
“I’ll have the pork medallions and asparagus,” Savannah told the smiling waiter. Niall still hadn’t returned, so she pointed to his empty chair and said, “And he’ll have the beef tips in wine with the baked potato.” Can’t go wrong with beef and potatoes, she thought.
“Yes, ma’am. Butter and sour cream on the potato?”
Not willing to guess and guess wrong, she asked, “Could he have them on the side?”
“Of course.” The waiter moved on to the next guest, and Savannah let out a tiny sigh of relief.
A movement out of the corner of her eye made her turn, and suddenly Niall was there. “Sorry I took so long,” he told the table as he seated himself. “I was heading down when I passed a display of the most incredible pearls I’ve ever seen. I stopped for what I thought would only be a minute, and the saleswoman latched on to me like a piranha and just wouldn’t let me go.” He paused, then added in a droll tone, “Her commission must be pretty substantial.” A statement that was greeted with laughter from everyone at the table, because they’d all endured the hard sell at the jade, silk and terracotta replica factories.
“Did you buy anything?” Mary Beth asked.
He shook his head. “I escaped with my wallet intact, but...” He glanced at Savannah and winked. “I promised her I’d be back.”
More laughter ensued, but that was the end of that.
No one remarked on just how long Niall had been gone, although Savannah had agonized the entire time. The meaningful hand squeeze he’d given her before he left had tipped her off something was up, although she didn’t know what. And she wasn’t about to ask him at the table now that he’d deflected everyone else’s curiosity; she’d find out when they returned to her stateroom.
* * *
The other couples at their table had said their good-nights an hour later, leaving Savannah and Niall the lone occupants. She’d deliberately dawdled over her dessert to make that happen, and now that the dining room was nearly empty, she reached over to Mary Beth’s place at the table and curled a finger around the stem of the wineglass there. The plates and much of the silverware had been removed earlier, before dessert was served, but not the wineglasses.
Niall reached out to stop her. “Is that why you ate your cheesecake a miniscule bite at a time?” he asked.
She frowned. “I thought you needed fingerprints. Isn’t that why I had to spend the evening with Mary Beth?”
He grimaced. “Yes, well...about that.”
“If you’re going to tell me I didn’t have to, I might have to hurt you,” she warned, and he laughed softly.
“I’m trembling in my boots,” he teased.
“You don’t wear boots,” she reminded him. “So tell me why you don’t need fingerprints after all.”
“I do need fingerprints. But I already got them.”
Just that quickly, she realized how. “The appetizer trays.”
Admiration for her perspicacity filled his eyes. “You’re quick. I like that.”
“It wasn’t that difficult. You left right when they did, so...”
“Let’s hope no one else made the connection.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. Everyone else bought your story.”
“But not you.”
“I probably would have, if you hadn’t squeezed my hand right before you left.” She was silent for a moment, wondering how best to say what she suddenly wanted to say to him, what she’d been thinking about ever since he’d returned to the table. “You’re a very convincing liar, Niall,” she said finally. “You mix bits of the truth with your lies, which makes it easy to believe you.”