3
AFTER THE DRILL, THEY decided to grab something to eat since Erin’s massage appointment was in only a half hour. Fortifying themselves had been her suggestion because, based on what’d happened before their playus interuptus, she had the sneaking suspicion they would need to store up on energy for when she returned to the cabin.
She’d surprised herself with her attempt at seducing Wes. Heh, yeah, attempt. That was an understatement. She’d gone at him with all guns blazing, and he’d been just as open to the attack as she’d hoped. But then they’d been forced to do that drill and…bye-bye bedroom Babylon. Hello, fortune-teller curse.
Of course, it could’ve just been a coincidence that their intimate activities had been thwarted at a most awkward time. In the heat of the moment, after she’d disengaged from Wes, she’d forgotten herself and actually joked about a damned jinx being the reason for the interruption. She’d only been letting off steam, but she couldn’t help wondering if Madame Karma was on to something…
Nah. She and Wes had the whole cruise to get it on and, in effect, allow her to get on with life as she wanted it. The farther she inched away from the disappointment of William, the better. One setback was no biggie. Sure, Wes had been forced to carry his life jacket in front of his jeans en route to their drill-meeting station on the ninth deck, and Erin herself had been flushed with such lingering desire that the color was like a scarlet letter on her skin, but they had hours, days to make up for the temporary inconvenience.
They walked to the Lido restaurant after having dropped off their jackets in the cabin, Erin linking onto Wes’s muscle-corded arm.
A curse. Ri-ight. Nothing to fret about.
It was just the sense of supreme relief she’d felt when the purser had called them for the drill that was worrying her more…
Dismissing the thought, she climbed the stairs with her date, mahogany wood surrounding them. The ship, Lady Oriana, which would sail from Long Beach to Ensenada then back before Monday morning, was a study in Victorian romanticism. With its stained glass, brass railings and an atrium in the entry parlor, the vessel offered many amusements: the spa, a disco, a coffee nook, upscale shops, a casino and even a library. Of course, the upper deck had the requisite pool with water slides and a hot tub.
As they passed by the pool, which rested empty under the salt-tinged breeze, Erin’s body hadn’t lost any of its melted surrender yet. Just the feel of Wes’s biceps brushing against her breast as they walked side by side churned the hunger in her belly.
They entered the restaurant, which had a buffet set out. In spite of the many choices, all Erin saw were the French fries and shrimp cocktail. Breaking away, she made a beeline for them.
“I can’t believe,” she said while piling her plate high, “that the food is here for the taking. This is awesome.”
Wes had snagged a burger plus a hot dog plus a giant baked potato. Real man food.
“You sure you’re gonna fit all that in your tiny body?” He reached out, wrapping his fingers around one of her biceps, squeezing slightly.
She flexed for his benefit. “Check it out-I’m buff, huh? I could so kick your butt.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“I’m not kidding.” Even with plate in hand, she aimed a jesting kick at his leg but intentionally missed. “You got lucky that time, but I’ll bet I’m really intimidating to you now.”
He raised an eyebrow, then ambled toward a table, all loose-limbed stalk. But his grin gave away his amusement as they sat down.
“Guess I should watch myself around a karate master like you,” he said.
“Kickboxing classes do have their advantages. I’m telling you-meeting me in a dark alley? Not a good thing.”
He just laughed, watching her as he bit into his burger. She watched him right back, her gaze fixed on his mouth. Mmm.
When her perusal traveled back up to his gaze, his eyes had gone smoky, and she knew he was remembering what’d happened back in the cabin.
She stuffed a load of fries down her gullet. Food: the glutton’s answer to a cold shower.
He rested his forearms on the table, assessing her.
“What?” she said around her fries.
“You. Most girls are afraid to eat around a guy. You’re not. At all.”
She swallowed. “Why should I be? Food’s great.”
Maybe she was imagining things, but she thought she read some buried message in his dark eyes. You’re pretty great, too, they said.
Don’t think things like that, she mentally chided him. We’re not supposed to get all “you’re so great” about each other.
She cut off this line of awareness at the pass. “So…”
He went back to eating, obviously reading her loud and clear. “So, what?”
Then the small talk started up again and, phew, they were back to a place of comfort-joking and just enjoying being around each other.
She quizzed him about how he liked to stay in shape, too. He gave her the rundown on his favorite adrenalizing sports-surfing, hang gliding, motorbiking. Then they talked about the Lakers, neutral ground. He had season tickets and promised he’d invite her to the next home game.
“Only if you go to the theater sometime with me,” she said cheekily. “Trade-off.”
“I can do theater.”
She widened her eyes as he nonchalantly polished off the last of his hot dog. Noticing the inspection, he furrowed his forehead.
“Sorry.” Erin shook her head. “Most guys I know would kick and scream their way to a show.”
Guys like William, the ex. Since he hadn’t been much for compromise, she’d elected to do what she wanted to do with Cheryl and other friends-things like theater, chick-flick DVDs, shopping. William wouldn’t have been caught dead doing half of what she enjoyed, so it only made sense that they’d ended up kaput. The sad thing was that, at the beginning, they’d had so much in common…until they’d grown apart. Scary to think that could happen with any couple.
Unbidden, a surge of latent anger lit through her, but she extinguished it, having no use for the emotion. So what if he’d taken away most of her confidence and moved on without her? So what if he’d wasted so much of her time?
Wes polished off the rest of his food, then said, “I have a couple of sisters, so I guess that taught me a little art appreciation. It’s not all so bad-sometimes you see something pretty good on stage.”
“Like what?” Now she was leaning her forearms on the table, genuinely interested.
“I remember thinking Phantom of the Opera was decent. Kinda foofy, but that chandelier coming down from the ceiling was good. And…what was it called? That show with the leggy Swedish blond…”
“The Producers?”
“Yeah, I suppose that was okay.” He grinned. “I wish there was less singing and more naked women in those things though.”
“Perv.” She gave him a light push. “But…seriously? You enjoyed that ‘stuff’?”
“Enjoy is a strong word.” He noticed her astonishment. “What? Am I losing manhood points by the second?”
“No, not at all. I’d love to…hang out…with someone who can appreciate both the stage and the hoop.” And, one day, she’d settle down with a man like that. One day.
“Well, don’t think I have a chick gene or something, all right? There were just a lot of cultural things going on in Boston, and my parents wanted me and my sisters to be ‘well rounded,’ but…”
He glanced away, as if he’d revealed too much about himself.
“But…?” she repeated.
“Let’s just say I didn’t end up as well-rounded as they’d hoped. The folks didn’t exactly throw a party when I caught the travel bug, came out to California on a whim, then ended up bugging out of UCLA just a few credits short of graduation. Having a dropout in the family wasn’t in their plans.”