contacts.”
Idle conversation felt strange, drawing too much attention to how they’d left things between them. Rex was willing to pursue an affair. She wasn’t willing to shadow dance with the memory of his dead wife.
Voices swelled in the hall, an aging contessa coming into view holding the arm of her arm candy, a muchyounger man who looked like he’d just stepped out of a Versace photo shoot. Rex’s forehead furrowed as he studied the mismatched couple.
Livia tugged his arm and his attention, leaving the poolside DJ to entertain the late-night crowd that veered between overtly sleazy and pleasantly intoxicated. The scent of seawater and grilled tapas hung in the air as the next shift of wait staff took over food services. “Why not have the surgery, the uh, Lasik?”
“It’s only recently been approved and I haven’t gotten on the list. Before that PRK was okayed about ten years ago, some studies say it’s more resistant to ejection trauma… But I would have to take time off work.”
Giving up those glasses was obviously difficult for him, like letting go of the past. “You’re making those changes with infant steps.”
“Baby steps.” He gave her a half smile. “Right.”
He looked younger without his glasses, but over fifteen years separated them and she knew it bothered him. Still, after being around Rex, she found men her own age— immature.
Rex stopped outside her suite. She slid her room card from a pocket in the folds of her gown.
“Grazie,”
she repeated, unable to meet his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow.”
His hand flattened against her door. “I should look over your room and check for any overzealous fans.”
She wished he wanted to come in because he ached for her desperately— needed to have her in his life no matter the case. But his implication in the invitation was clear. Things weren’t as they seemed here. She had to be careful.
She swept past him into the corner suite. The curvedwindow overlooked the dock and come tomorrow would offer a to-die-for ocean view, a perk of being A-list entertainment by cruise ship standards. Closing the door behind her, she watched Rex move around the heavily gilded furnishings with stealthy grace. Her body couldn’t have him but she couldn’t resist indulging her eyes. He oozed confidence and knowledge and power, his moves sure as he checked out every corner of her cream-and-espresso-colored sitting area— of her bedroom. He paused beside a photo of a Roman statue of Hercules, and she couldn’t help comparing her ideal to the epitome of Roman manhood. Colonel Scanlon won that battle as far as she was concerned, his muscles heated from within, unlike the smooth marble.
Finally, he stopped in front of her, resting his cheek just beside hers, speaking softly in her ear. “Your room is clear and my people haven’t detected any listening devices or cameras.”
The crisp scent of his aftershave, the heat of his breath against her ear sent her sagging against the door. Attraction wasn’t smart or reasonable. Or timely.
They weren’t here for each other. She focused on his words about her surveillance-free room his “people” had checked over.
People. Plural. She knew about Chuck Tanaka, a military man she called a friend after having visited him as a morale booster for a wounded soldier. As a part of the operation, she’d vouched for him— as Charles Tomas— when he applied for the job as a blackjack dealer. Why hadn’t she gone to Chuck instead of Rex with her worries?
A moot point now. “Rex?”
“Yes?” His hand flattened on the door. The lean length of him was so close.
The urge to slide her hands up his chest was almost irresistible. Her breasts ached with the need to press against him, to deepen their dating cover with some reality.
Just a kiss. A simple turn of her face toward his and their mouths would meet. She could claim it was accidental and maybe even convince herself, too.
Out of the corner of her eye,
Idle conversation felt strange, drawing too much attention to how they’d left things between them. Rex was willing to pursue an affair. She wasn’t willing to shadow dance with the memory of his dead wife.
Voices swelled in the hall, an aging contessa coming into view holding the arm of her arm candy, a muchyounger man who looked like he’d just stepped out of a Versace photo shoot. Rex’s forehead furrowed as he studied the mismatched couple.
Livia tugged his arm and his attention, leaving the poolside DJ to entertain the late-night crowd that veered between overtly sleazy and pleasantly intoxicated. The scent of seawater and grilled tapas hung in the air as the next shift of wait staff took over food services. “Why not have the surgery, the uh, Lasik?”
“It’s only recently been approved and I haven’t gotten on the list. Before that PRK was okayed about ten years ago, some studies say it’s more resistant to ejection trauma… But I would have to take time off work.”
Giving up those glasses was obviously difficult for him, like letting go of the past. “You’re making those changes with infant steps.”
“Baby steps.” He gave her a half smile. “Right.”
He looked younger without his glasses, but over fifteen years separated them and she knew it bothered him. Still, after being around Rex, she found men her own age— immature.
Rex stopped outside her suite. She slid her room card from a pocket in the folds of her gown.
“Grazie,”
she repeated, unable to meet his eyes. “I will see you tomorrow.”
His hand flattened against her door. “I should look over your room and check for any overzealous fans.”
She wished he wanted to come in because he ached for her desperately— needed to have her in his life no matter the case. But his implication in the invitation was clear. Things weren’t as they seemed here. She had to be careful.
She swept past him into the corner suite. The curvedwindow overlooked the dock and come tomorrow would offer a to-die-for ocean view, a perk of being A-list entertainment by cruise ship standards. Closing the door behind her, she watched Rex move around the heavily gilded furnishings with stealthy grace. Her body couldn’t have him but she couldn’t resist indulging her eyes. He oozed confidence and knowledge and power, his moves sure as he checked out every corner of her cream-and-espresso-colored sitting area— of her bedroom. He paused beside a photo of a Roman statue of Hercules, and she couldn’t help comparing her ideal to the epitome of Roman manhood. Colonel Scanlon won that battle as far as she was concerned, his muscles heated from within, unlike the smooth marble.
Finally, he stopped in front of her, resting his cheek just beside hers, speaking softly in her ear. “Your room is clear and my people haven’t detected any listening devices or cameras.”
The crisp scent of his aftershave, the heat of his breath against her ear sent her sagging against the door. Attraction wasn’t smart or reasonable. Or timely.
They weren’t here for each other. She focused on his words about her surveillance-free room his “people” had checked over.
People. Plural. She knew about Chuck Tanaka, a military man she called a friend after having visited him as a morale booster for a wounded soldier. As a part of the operation, she’d vouched for him— as Charles Tomas— when he applied for the job as a blackjack dealer. Why hadn’t she gone to Chuck instead of Rex with her worries?
A moot point now. “Rex?”
“Yes?” His hand flattened on the door. The lean length of him was so close.
The urge to slide her hands up his chest was almost irresistible. Her breasts ached with the need to press against him, to deepen their dating cover with some reality.
Just a kiss. A simple turn of her face toward his and their mouths would meet. She could claim it was accidental and maybe even convince herself, too.
Out of the corner of her eye,
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