Chapter Nine

Michaela hugged herself as her small boat drew up to the secluded entrance.

The Pacific Sun Resort was a new one, affiliated with a large European five-star chain. It had all the modern amenities, including sparkling swimming pools, a spa, and a gourmet restaurant. The staff whispered in and out of view, always there when they were needed and gone when privacy was wanted. But it was run by Ni-Vanuatu, the people of Vanuatu, and so with all its modern facilities came an island calm, bright smiles, gentle words, brilliant flowers in bloom on every table, and laughter simmering just below the surface.

The vacation spot was located at the border of the native forest on a private island in the Port Villa harbor. Despite its proximity to the mainland and to her ship, Michaela felt she was a million miles away. The location had only twelve rooms, and Felicity had ensured there would be no one else from the ship there, guaranteeing that she and Dylan would have privacy.

Michaela inhaled the scent of sea air, tropical blossoms, and rich green forest and smiled. She needed this. The only question was whether Dylan would show.

No sooner had his name flickered through her mind than she saw him waiting on the small jetty. He stood, looking relaxed and almost tranquil in casual clothes. The soft white T-shirt hugged and emphasized his sculpted chest at every curve, and the camel slacks molded to his toned thighs perfectly.

He reached a tanned arm down to help her out of the boat. Usually she would have refused, priding herself on her own ability, but today her balance seemed strangely off, and as she stood on shore the ground swayed a little beneath her. “Wow, I haven’t had wobbly land legs for months,” she said. She realized with a start that she hadn’t been off the boat for the longest time.

“They’ll go soon enough.”

She laughed despite herself. “What would you know about it, hey? You, a veteran of one whole cruise.”

He ducked his head. Michaela was gratified to discover there wasn’t any of the tension she thought might be between them.

“Madam, sir, this way, please. A table has been prepared for you.” A porter had magically arrived and now guided them to a private outdoor table where a platter of fresh mango, pawpaw, and melon had been laid out. Michaela looked out over the sea at all the tiny islands stretching away under the tropical sun. The porter set up the canvas shade to their satisfaction and then melted away silently. She nibbled on a slice of succulent mango.

When they were on their own again, Michaela snuck a look at Dylan and discovered to her embarrassment that he was staring at her.

“Do I have fruit on my face?” She put a starched linen napkin up to her mouth.

“No.” He smiled. “I’m just glad to see you. You’re…” His eyes darted up and down the length of her. “You’re a wonderful sight for these sore eyes. I didn’t think you’d talk to me again.”

Michaela looked at the tablecloth, a smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. She’d taken an inordinate amount of time with her appearance this morning. After ensuring the passengers were all ready to go ashore, she’d rushed back to her stateroom, showered, and smoothed a divine cocoa butter over every inch of her golden skin. Her hair had never been something she did much with—she usually scraped it back into a ponytail or pushed it under a hat. But today she had twisted it into a French knot, holding the sleek pile of hair at the nape of her neck with a simple hair comb. She’d chosen to wear a dress instead of her usual uniform, and when she’d looked at herself in the mirror this morning she’d thought it the perfect shape for her fit figure. The long dusty-pink sheath tied behind her neck and left the expanse of her back bare, gently hugging the slender width of her hips before it fell all the way to the ground.

“Should I say thank you now or wait for your full compliment?” Michaela surprised herself with the flirtatious remark.

Go, girl. Time to show him you really are the boss.

“Pardon me,” Dylan said. “What I meant to say was that you look extraordinarily beautiful today.” He smiled again, and any sardonic reply that Michaela might have hoped to make faded from her lips.

“Dylan,” she began. “We should probably talk.”

He held up a hand. “You’re right, of course, but can it wait for just a minute or two? We have all day, don’t we?”

All day. The things they could get up to with a whole day. He was right, talking could wait. Better to live a little and enjoy whatever was on offer. There was something about him, though, something deeper. She felt a current of elemental pleasure in his company that she didn’t want to acknowledge.

She would ignore it. This was about fun, remember? Fun would be enough. It would have to be. Michaela reached out a hand toward his face but quickly redirected it to the fruit platter. She didn’t know if she was quite ready for the spark of contact just yet.

They chatted about nothing for a short time, eating the fruit, admiring the view and the quiet. It was easy being with him.

“May I show you to your suite?” The porter had returned, soundlessly arriving to whisk the empty plate away.

Dylan stood and held out a hand for Michaela, a heated look on his face. She nodded, ignoring the hand, and stood to follow the porter along a beautifully manicured path to a suite that rose out of the ocean itself. She felt Dylan’s eyes on her back and found her hips swaying provocatively as she walked.

Let him have something to look forward to.

But all thoughts stopped when they arrived at the sheltered entrance to the bungalow. “Oh, it’s beautiful,” she gasped and turned to give Dylan a huge grin.

“Enjoy.” The porter handed her the key, and she glanced down at it. When she looked up again, he’d disappeared.

“How do they do that?” Dylan asked. Michaela could only shrug.

Placing the key on a table, she walked around the room. Her beach bag had already been laid out, and a huge set of French doors stood open, making it feel as if the ocean had access to the room. The interior was all wood, which gave everything a warm and inviting feel. Clever hidden recesses held vases, water jugs, and fruit. The small veranda featured a tailor-made swing seat.

But the dominant feature by far was an enormous four-poster bed covered in hazy white fabric that blew tantalizingly in the warm Pacific breeze. As she stared at the bed, Michaela felt Dylan’s hot gaze on her neck, and she quickly headed for her bag. “The island is a marine reserve. I thought we could go snorkeling before lunch,” she said.

Dylan came up behind her and gently turned her by the elbow. “Sounds great,” he said. “Perhaps we should have that talk first, though. Come, sit with me a while.” He led her to an overstuffed white couch, placed to take in the spectacular views.

Michaela sat. “I’m sorry,” she said, wanting to apologize first. “I was so quick to assume it was you who had bragged about being with me, and I didn’t even give you a chance to deny it. But rather than giving up on me, you went and found out the real story and saved my entire career. I wanted to say thank you—thank you so very much for doing that for me.” She risked a look up at him from under her eyelashes, but he was gazing out at the ocean. Her confidence rose. “I guess I was a little scared.” There. She’d said it. “I was scared of losing control like that again. And I was scared of what getting involved with you could mean for everything I thought I valued.”

Dylan looked her full in the eyes. “You don’t have to be scared of me. I’m not going to lie to you a second time. I’ve never talked to anyone about my family before, and I appreciate that you listen—that you care. I hope you know that. We’re fully consenting adults, and what we do is no one’s business but our own.”

That wasn’t really what she’d meant, and she had to push aside the disappointment. She hadn’t expected a proposal, but after he’d shared everything with her about his brother she’d thought maybe there was something more between them.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t great to be with, though. “I haven’t told anyone about my background, either,” she said. “I mean, some people know about where I worked before, but not about my plans. My dreams.”

“I’m glad you trust me with them. Tell me where you’re going to be in ten years.”

They sat for another hour, simply talking, and at the end of it all Michaela realized she’d told him all about her dreams, her five-year promise, her desire to somehow mix an international career and family. But she didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. Quite the opposite, the ease she had felt with him during their time under moonlight had returned.

He reminded her of her earlier confession. “There’s nothing to be scared of here, but I can’t protect you from yourself. You have to decide what it is that you want in life. And if I can be a small part of that for a short time, well, don’t you think that would be fun? I appreciate your overlooking how I got this job. It was a total spur-of-the-moment thing, auditioning, but now you know why I needed something to get me out of my head. Something completely outside of my normal life. Like I said, I don’t do holidays. If I’d had to sit around and read a book for this long, I already would have gone crazy.”

He smiled at her, a coronary-inducing, thigh-quivering smile. She wanted to throw herself at him, but he stood up. “So, ready for some fun?”

He’d said it again. Fun. Of course. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something different. That there might be something more between them than a bit of fun. But no, fun was just what she needed. At least for now.

“Can we start again?” she asked.

Dylan’s smile was delicious—the green of both ocean and forest in his eyes, and the heat in their depths sparkled. “To fun?” he asked and held out his hand.

“Fun,” she said, taking it, her heart racing.

“Now, about that snorkeling,” he said. “Race you to change?”

Michaela wondered at what his definition of fun might be. As she changed into her pale blue bikini in the luxurious bathroom, her skin tingled, and when she emerged she felt Dylan’s gaze as if his eyes had physically stroked her.

In the water, however, she forgot about her desire, reveling in the expanse of brilliant coral and the hundreds of species of tropical fish. “Did you see that tiny one?” she called as she came up after a long bout of snorkeling. “It was so cute and so bright blue. I wonder if it has competitions with its friends to see who can be the brightest. And those yellow-and-black striped fish, one of them came right up to my mask. And another one nibbled on my finger! Oh, I’d forgotten how much fun this is.”

Dylan swam over beside her and lay floating on his back. She couldn’t help herself—she ran a hand down his smooth chest. The warm ocean water made his skin silky. She glanced at his face and caught him looking at her, a hot smile on his lips. His hand reached for hers as his feet found the ocean floor, and he pulled her fingers to his mouth.

“Sorry,” she said.

He frowned. “Sorry for the debacle on the ship, or sorry that you’re going to deny me again?”

“No. Yes. Sorry for before, but—” She lowered her eyes. “—could we pretend we really are starting again? And, you know, take everything a little slow?” At least that way she might be able to retain a modicum of control.

“I don’t recall taking anything slowly to start with,” he teased. “But I can try and be slower this time. Although don’t blame me if you’re the one begging me to up the tempo.” Slowly, very slowly, he stroked her chin, turning her face up toward his. The kiss was gentle, a mere breath, and she raised her arms to wrap around his shoulders as he pulled his lips away. Dylan’s arms encircled her waist in return, and they stood, gently buffeted by the movement of the water for just a moment.

Oh, man, having fun tasted really good. As one, their heads moved together again. This kiss was luxurious, a deep, easy hello with a hint of the spice that was to follow. When she surfaced, Michaela looked into Dylan’s eyes and smiled. Hello, indeed. As she unwrapped herself from him and went to dive back under the water, he stopped her, his hands firm on her bare stomach. Kiss me, kiss me again.

“Hello again,” he said, stooping to kiss her neck as if, once again, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

Rather than it being unnerving, this time Michaela found his uncanny clairvoyance reassuring. They were in tune. She smiled as he straightened, and he squeezed her before he released her waist. “Slow, hey? Well, you certainly know how to toy with a man.” Before she could protest, he took her hand and dived under the water again.

They splashed around in the water a while longer, diving down to peer into the haven of tropical fish, and to Michaela’s delight a large sea turtle even paid them a visit, its mottled shell a rippling kaleidoscope of ochre and brown as it glided effortlessly past. But with every stroke her arm made through the water, she remained constantly aware of Dylan’s presence, of his form through the water, his muscles eating up distance when he put on a burst of speed.

Occasionally, his arm would brush against her bare skin, sending tingles throughout her whole being. We’re taking it slowly. There was no doubt her body wanted to betray this resolve, and despite the wonders of the marine universe, she found her thoughts straying to what might be in store for them if they let themselves collide in this warm water paradise.

“Should we stop for lunch?” she asked, attempting to distract herself from wanting to touch him.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He caught hold of her arm, pulling her close. “I’m famished.” He brought his mouth down over hers in a kiss that was anything but slow or gentle. The tingling of her skin became an electrified demand. “You seem to be starving, too,” he said, gesturing to her nipples, peaked against the clinging fabric of her bikini top. “I think I’ll have cruise director de jour first, followed closely by a helping of cruise director à la mode.” With that, he picked her up out of the water and strode the short distance back to their room with her and their snorkeling gear in his arms.

“Stop it! We were going to take it slow, remember?” But she was smiling as she spoke, and she could see him trying not to laugh at her feeble protest.

“It will be slow,” he promised. “So slow that you’ll beg me to speed it up. But don’t worry,” he said, as she started to protest again. “I’ll make sure that this time neither of us arrives too quickly.”

Setting her down in their suite, Dylan let her squeeze the water from her hair, then wrapped a towel around her to take off most of the ocean’s wetness before whipping it away, leaving her standing only in her bikini.

Looking down, she saw the sheen of dampness made her skin glisten. Not bad, considering how much time I spend at my desk. Dylan wrapped the towel about himself, then stroked her face gently as he had in the ocean. Delicious.

“I don’t think you want to be completely dry, do you?”

Michaela shuddered as he ran his fingertips over her arms and down to her fingers, finally lifting her hands up to rest on his bare chest. Trailing his fingers back down her arms to trace the undersides of her breasts, Dylan smiled, and she watched his pupils dilate with desire.

“Take it slow. We agreed, didn’t we?” True to his word, he slowly, ever so slowly undid the knot behind her neck. Then the one at her back. Her bikini top fell uselessly to the floor.

She automatically went to put her hands over her chest, then repressed the urge, letting her arms drop to her sides and his hot gaze burn her flesh. He rewarded her with a smile. One at a time, he undid the bows at the sides of her bikini bottom until she was standing, still damp, entirely naked in front of him.

“Lovely,” he said, and stooped to kiss first one side of her neck, then the other.

The towel was still slung low around his waist. Michaela longed to tear it off, but she controlled herself, biting her lip and trying not to look below his chest. He must have noticed.

“You were the one who asked to take it slow,” he drawled. “There’s no going back on your request now.”

As he reached for a bottle of water, his muscles rippled, and she longed to touch them. “Show-off.” George’s dance routines were certainly doing great things for his body.

“That’s not showing off. Now this—” Dylan put down the water and struck a 1980s Mr. T glamour pose, which made Michaela laugh.

“Or maybe this?” He extended an arm in a long dance pose so his pectorals rippled and Michaela had to work to hold back her sharp intake of breath.

“Enough of that.”

He dropped the pose and ran his hands from her fingertips to her shoulders, over her sternum and down, hovering over each breast. His light touch sent shivers over her skin. When he feathered his fingers around her aroused nipples, she strained toward him, hungry for his touch, but he was unrelenting, lightly cupping both her breasts, then releasing them before continuing down over her stomach and hips. “Is this fun yet?” he asked, grinning.

“No, not fun at all.”

“I better try harder.” Hands at her hips, he lifted her up and walked the few steps to the bed before laying her down under the dreamy white fabric of the four-poster. She longed to pull him down onto her.

No, you wanted to take it slow. You can do this. If you let him win, you’ll never hear the end of it.

Leaning over, he kissed her neck, her cheeks, her ears, then finally, finally took a nipple in his mouth. Despite herself, she whimpered. She trailed her fingers down his back, the pressure gentle at first, but as he pushed her further into arousal, she dug her nails in. Still, he managed to keep her hands away from his towel.

Fun? Teasing her might have been fun for him, but it was torturous from where she was lying. She squirmed on the bed, trying to guide his body to where she wanted it as the two of them touched, tantalized, and tasted each other. Dear lord, was he going to make her beg for it?

He kissed her long and deep. “Better?” he asked, pulling back on his heels and looking down at her.

“No. Slow doesn’t mean you need to stop.”

“Oh, are you sure about that?” He stood.

“Get back here,” Michaela said. Her own boldness made her blush.

“Well, well,” he whispered as he crawled back up her body. “Don’t think this hurts me any less than it hurts you. But I’m only following my cruise director’s orders. You wouldn’t want me disobeying my superior, now would you?” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and smirked when she moaned.

“Please.”

“Please?”

“Not so slow.”

“Is that an order?”

His touch had burned through her control. No longer thinking about her position or her reputation, she grabbed at his towel. “Take that off,” she demanded. She pulled the towel away, leaving only his wet trunks, clinging to every part of him.

“And get those off,” she said.

He pulled his trunks off in one swift tug, and the full extent of his erection sprung free.

Again, Michaela was a little astonished at his girth, but the sight of what she needed so close only made her wetter. She couldn’t stop the whimper at the back of her throat from escaping.

As if on cue, his attention became more urgent, his kisses hungry, biting and pulling at her skin as if he really might have her for lunch. Michaela writhed under him. As he tasted the smooth valley between her breasts, the skin of her belly, the hot tang of her inner thighs, she moaned. “No,” she said, “I want all of you this time.”

His face rose to hers, and he kissed her hard on the mouth as her fingers dug into his back and her legs clamped around his waist. “You know what I said about taking it slow?” she asked, giving him a devilish grin.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Forget it.”

“Oh, I’m not going to forget it. But don’t worry, I’ll speed things up just a little for you. If you’re good.”

“No more waiting,” she demanded. Moist and ready, she grabbed him and pulled him to her. Arching her back against the bed, she led him where she wanted him.

With a tight intake of breath, he slid all the way inside, and she moaned. Dear God, that felt good. He filled her up—filled her up completely. But despite his size, he was gentle, and as they rocked together, she had to admit he was fantastic. Perhaps she could do with a few lessons after all—as long as they were from him.

Then out of the fog of desire, a warning voice leapt into her brain. “Hang on.” She pushed him back. “Condom?”

“Damn. Of course. Don’t move.”

Reaching over to his bag beside the bed, Dylan pulled out a box of condoms and got one out. Watching him stroke the latex over his thick cock made Michaela even hotter, and she grabbed at his hips, practically dragging him back down to her.

“No. This is the bit where we slow down again,” he said.

“What?”

“You can’t be in control of everything, Michaela. Sometimes you have to bow to more expert advice.”

“Are you telling me you know more about sex than I do?”

“I couldn’t possibly comment.”

“But—”

He slipped a hand over her mouth and dipped the head of his cock just inside her. “Oh…” She lifted her hips, trying to bring him deeper.

“Now, now, don’t be greedy.” As he withdrew, the mirth mixed with hot desire flashing in his eyes.

He dipped back inside her, and she felt her muscles clench, wanting to drag him in. Arching her spine, she shuffled and squirmed, but he had all his weight on his knees and was firmly in control.

He paused.

“What are you doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Just checking in. Are you having fun yet?”

“If you don’t shut up soon…”

But he didn’t need any more convincing. Sinking deep and then retreating, Dylan coaxed her into a taunting, heated rhythm. They moved as one, his every thrust met by the eager writhing of her body.

“Now how are we doing?” The huskiness of his voice betrayed his attempt to tease her, but he managed to hold her down when she tried to roll him over and take control.

“Okay, okay, it’s fun,” she admitted. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.”

“Excellent.” And he thrust hard into her, unstopping and unrepentant. The long, deep strokes of his new rhythm made her gasp, but she pushed her hips up to meet every one of them. The rhythm built out of her control and spun her into whole new plane of delight. Thighs trembling, she let her head fall back. “Please, yes, oh God please,” she said and shut her eyes as she felt her climax building.

With one, two, three long thrusts, he drove himself in, right to his base. “Ohhh.” The long groan came from him as he disintegrated, shuddering inside her, just as she felt her own climax ricochet through her senses. Her thighs still locked around him, she released her arms and allowed the sensations to wash over her like the warm Pacific Ocean.

“Michaela Western.” The words were gentle on Dylan’s tongue, but they felt strangely right there. “You are amazing.” He collapsed to the side of her, the blood pumping through his body, his skin sensitive to the touch.

Michaela looked over at him and smiled.

Man, she was beautiful. That was sure as hell a lot more fun than he’d had in a while.

Just fun?

Yes, just fun. His three-month deadline didn’t allow for anything else.

She turned on her side to gaze at him, her eyes smoky and dark, and he luxuriated in drinking every bit of her in. Her legs were lightly muscled, long and lean from walking all over the ship many times a day and participating in the cruise activities she organized. The waist that he had only recently had under his hands was slender, her stomach flat but soft.

As she propped herself up on an elbow, a bead of sea water from her still-wet hair ran a tantalizing course down her chest to rest in the shallow recess of her belly button. She really was a beauty, burnished by the sun to a rich bronze, her skin glowing even without a scrap of makeup. When she smiled, Michaela made Dylan’s body sing.

His list of her good attributes was getting pretty long: smart, driven, independent, values family—and trusting, he added, thinking about how she had accepted his explanation of how he’d ended up on board. The idea of leaving her for the drama of Brian and the company seemed suddenly unappealing.

He stroked her face. “You are even more beautiful when you smile.”

“Nice. Compliments will get you everywhere, Mr. Johns.”

“I’m counting on it.”

“You okay?” Michaela stroked his face.

Damn, she was good. Thinking about him when here he was thinking about how he’d have to leave her. “I’m okay, sure.”

“Good. I know what I’m not okay with, though. I’m starving.” As if to echo her thoughts, her stomach gave a loud growl.

Dylan smiled and rose, heading toward the shower. “Last one to lunch has to do ten press-ups.”

“Well, then,” Michaela teased, “I think I might be last on purpose, as long as I get to do the press-ups over your naked body.”

He leapt back on the bed in a single bound, pinning her down and kissing her long and deep. “That better be a promise.”

She smiled up at him and said, “It definitely is.”

…

After a short break for sustenance, Dylan finally let Michaela prove he wasn’t the only expert in the bedroom.

“How do you do that?” Michaela asked, lying naked and replete on their small balcony.

“What?” His grin mischievous, he traced a finger along the line of her navel.

“Tip me over the edge so easily.”

“I could ask you the same question.”

“Yes, but it’s easier for a man, isn’t it?”

“It’s easier for a man to come, sure, but that doesn’t mean it has to be so good he loses control.”

She raised herself up on her elbow. “I make you lose control?”

Like you wouldn’t believe.

The thought caught him up short. What the hell was he doing? Having fun, being distracted from work and Brian’s messy family back home, absolutely. But was he in danger of getting distracted himself?

Possibly—but for all the right reasons. In less than three months, he’d be back at the office, and this would all be a happy memory.

His heart dipped. It wasn’t going to be as easy as it usually was to say goodbye to Michaela. Their time together was making very happy memories.

“I wonder if anyone would see us in the water just there,” she said.

He could see the feisty flicker appearing once more in her eyes. She was insatiable. As she gazed up at him, Dylan hoped he had it in him to go again. He peered down at the sea, then looked left and right. Not a soul disturbed the view. The thought of the water swirling around their naked bodies was irresistible. He stood and hopped over the balcony rail into the ocean.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“It was your idea. Come on, no one’s around.” He watched her from the water as she looked all around. “Chicken?”

Giggling, she ducked under the rail and stepped into the water, hardly making a splash as it rose up to her waist. “Now, this is fun,” she said.

“Come here.” Dylan hooked a hand around her waist, dragging her through the water to him.

Even though his body ached from their earlier exertions, he wanted to be inside her again. The tight grip of her around him, the heat of her mouth, the low, long moan she let out each time she came—it was a joy to be with a woman who knew how to let herself go, and who got so hot and wet. He let his hands play over her soft skin as the water swirled around them.

“This is bad,” Michaela whispered.

“Yes, it is.” Without his trunks on, the sensation of the water was mildly erotic. He pulled her up him, slicking his hands beneath her bottom and along her legs so that she wrapped them around his waist. “You’re great,” he said and smiled.

Nibbling at his throat, she whispered, “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Johns,” in his ear as she moved to lick and kiss his lobe.

All too quickly, he was hard for her.

“Again?” she asked.

“I think it’s my turn in the driver’s seat.”

Slipping his hands beneath her thighs, he felt for the wet groove of her. She was slick, the warm water against her naked skin obviously adding to her arousal as much as it did his. Without ceremony this time, he slipped a finger inside her, then two. “Don’t fight it,” he said as she went to unwrap her legs from his waist. Moving into a steady rhythm he added a thumb to circle her clitoris.

“No,” she gasped.

“Oh, yes,” Dylan said, continuing to work her with his fingers. But as her tension built, he wanted more.

Michaela must have sensed it. “I want you inside me again.”

“I haven’t got a condom, and anyway it’d be useless in the water.”

“Well, then.” She flicked her eyes up toward their room.

Too greedy to ignore her request, he strode out of the water and up the steps at the side of their bungalow with her still wrapped around him.

Quickly sheathing himself, he pushed her against the wall, not bothering to towel the seawater off them. He hooked her leg up around his waist while she balanced on the other and then drove himself into her without hesitation.

She sighed, pressing forward into him, lifting her leg higher and allowing him more access as he thrust into her.

Smart, driven, independent, values family, trusting, and a fox in bed. But the best thing about her was how open she was about wanting him. As if echoing his thoughts, she cried, “Harder. Lift me up, harder.”

Pulling her other leg up off the floor, Dylan pushed his weight against her, holding her up against the wall. Her legs now fully splayed, Dylan pumped into her until he felt the thrill of his climax ripple through his body just at the same time her muscles clenched and she yelled out his name.

Her cry filled the room, and he held her in place as it echoed into silence.

Breathing hard, he gently, gently let her down, withdrew, and then pressed his body against hers, both of them leaning on the wall.

“Wow,” she said.

Dylan didn’t quite have it in him to speak.

“You win,” she said, and he looked down into her dazzled eyes. Win? It felt like he was about to lose himself completely—and for a change he was happy to lose, as long as it meant keeping her.

By the time five o’clock came around and the sun started its descent over the ocean, Dylan felt like a cat, well stroked and purring.

Michaela snapped him out of it. “I guess we should go back,” she said. “You have a show to do.”

Shit, he’d almost forgotten. “In a second,” he said, pushing her gently back into the cushions. “So.” He trailed his fingers lazily over her face. “What are we going to say when we get back?”

Michaela’s eyes widened. “What should we say?”

He smiled. “Nothing, unless someone asks. Then we probably just bumped into each other on our day off.”

“Oh, right.” Was that disappointment clouding her features? What had she thought he’d meant?

“I mean, you have a position to maintain,” he told her. “We don’t want people talking any more than they have to. I’m not sure the captain will make your life any easier if you rub his nose in it.”

Michaela nodded, but her smile lost some of its warmth.

Damn. “Or maybe the sneaking around part of this is what gets you hot? You like the thrill of it, don’t you? Does the danger make you excited?” He pulled her to him, trying to raise a laugh.

She pushed him off, playfully slapping at his hands as he continued to stroke her, then giving him a final shove and standing. “We really should go.”

Dylan nodded and stood, scooping up his bag and heading for the door. “I’ll see you later on tonight?”

She nodded, and he felt her eyes on his back as he left to catch a separate ferry.

…

That night they met surreptitiously in Michaela’s stateroom. She had tidied every corner, plumping the pillows and folding the towels just so. “You sure get better treatment than we do. These towels are amazing,” he said.

“I begged the fluffiest ones from housekeeping. Said I was sunburned,” she told him with a smirk.

“It even smells better up here.”

“Essential oil.”

“Pulling out all the stops, eh?” He didn’t think he’d have anything left in him after their long day of lovemaking and the two performances, but as she wrapped her arms around him, he felt a stirring below his waist. Maybe he was the insatiable one. The two of them fell back onto her bed.

Out of the blue, Dylan wondered what touches she’d add to his apartment.

None, you dope. She wouldn’t add anything because she’d never see it.

He kissed her to distract himself.

“I didn’t think you’d have the energy,” she said.

“I didn’t either. But who can stand in the way off all this fun?”

There it was again—that look. Dylan hoped there wasn’t something she hadn’t told him, some deep hurt that he might be tapping into by insisting they keep their affair light.

We discussed this. She knows I’m leaving in three months.

“Okay?” he asked, just to check. He tweaked one of her breasts and grinned cheekily to try and remove the tension.

She slapped playfully at him, and the smile on her face wasn’t forced, so he grabbed her hands and pulled them over her head, pinning her to the bed.

“Careful,” she said, but he could tell her struggles were only for show.

Their lovemaking was delicious that night, and over the next days and weeks they grew to know each other’s bodies intimately. He let her know about the spot on his wrist where he would melt if she put her mouth to it and nibbled her way up his arm, and he discovered the soft skin just beneath her ear where he could blow hot air and make her his instantly.

On the rare nights that Dylan slept in his own stateroom, he flicked through his time with Michaela in his mind. His picture of her was growing clearer and clearer, and now when he slept she wasn’t far from his dreams. Her face appeared as it had in Vanuatu their first time together: free of makeup, glistening with seawater and with that smile—a smile that threatened to destroy his usual commitment-phobia.

This was not part of the plan. Dylan had escaped the few relationships that had looked like they might get serious with the excuse that he needed to focus on the company, yet here was a woman whose list of good attributes grew daily and who made him feel like he could do anything. Maybe even leave the corporate world and keep dancing.

Don’t be a fool.

Long-term love was impossible. Lily and Brian, his mother and father—everyone he knew in a long-term relationship had ended up unhappy. Someone always loves more, and someone always gets hurt, he reminded himself.

Michaela would never hurt me.

When he was with her, he experienced a glimmer of something new. His heart felt lighter, his shoulders less tense.

But it was the three-month break, wasn’t it? His break from reality.

What if it’s something more? he wondered more than once.

So what if it was? Three months was three months. He’d deal with what else this was—if anything—at the end of that time.

No promises, no commitments. They’d both agreed on that.