Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (12 page)

“Like what?”

He leaned in and whispered something naughty in her ear.

Her eyes widened. “That’s a new one,” she replied.

The ship’s horn blasted as they ran for the port and up the gangplank. Breathless, Laura grabbed Nathan’s
hand and dragged him toward the elevator, eager to fulfill his wicked fantasy.

“Whoa, Nellie! We have to wait until we’re out to sea,” Nathan said with a laugh.

“But nothing’s stopping us from a little foreplay.” She reached up and tugged on his bow tie, untying it, giggling as a passing couple cast a reproachful eye.

Giggling!
Where had that come from? Laura Armstrong didn’t cry, and she certainly didn’t giggle. The giddiness she experienced now was far better than any alcohol buzz, and the thought of getting Nathan in her room and out of his tux left her lightheaded.

When they finally made it inside her stateroom, she pressed him against the door and ran her hands up his chest, to his hair, tangling her fingers in the silky brown tresses. “I want you, Nathan Maxwell.” She molded her lips to his, her tongue grazing his lips.

The ship’s engines started.

Moaning, he pulled her hips against his, then reaching around, squeezed her ass. “Dear God, woman. Your foreplay will be the death of me.”

Taking each end of his bow tie, she led him into the bedroom. “Why don’t I give you a little striptease? That should pass the time until we’re out of port.”

He closed his eyes as if in pain. “Sugar, if you’re wearing what I think you’re wearing underneath that dress, your striptease won’t last until the anchor’s weighed.”

She laughed, deep and sexy. “Maybe you’re right. So I’ll sit here”—she dropped into a chair, and crossed her legs, the slit revealing every inch of her bare leg—“while you do a striptease for me.”

He choked out a laugh. “Oh no. I don’t think so.”

“Oh sure. You were all onboard when it was me doing the stripping. Now I’m asking you to strip, and you go all shy on me.”

“Not shy, just self-aware.” He chuckled, looking a little self-conscious.

“Come on, Nathan. Let me see you strip. Nice and slow, then before you know it, we’ll be out at sea. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

She untied the halter straps at her neck, dropped first one, then the other.

“You’re a brazen hussy, you know that?”

“And you love it.” She flashed him her most seductive smile.

He groaned, but began to slowly remove his tie. Then moved to his cuff links before removing his jacket.

“Turn around.”

“What?”

She twirled her finger in the air. “Turn around.”

He complied.

“Now remove your shirt.” In control again. It felt good. “That’s it.”

He slipped the shirt off his shoulders, glanced over his shoulder, and flashed her a grin.

“You may have missed your calling. Nathan Maxwell, Male Stripper.”

He chuckled, the sound scraping deliciously over her aroused nerves.

“Shoes and socks next.”

“Are you going to tell me how to undress?”

“Yes.”

He sat on the bed, toed off his shoes, slid off his socks.

“Now the pants.”

He obliged her, slowly unzipping his fly, the sound rasping in the quiet stateroom. She bit her lip in anticipation.

Stepping out of his pants, he tossed them on the floor.

She lifted a brow. “Apparently stripping for me was a turn-on for you.” Her gaze slipped below his waist to his erection.

“You sitting there bare-breasted was a turn-on for me.”

“Now it’s your turn.”

She stood and shimmied out of the dress, and stood in nothing but her birthday suit and silver stilettos.

“Good God,” he breathed. Tugging the blanket off the bed and taking Laura’s hand, he led her out onto the balcony for a little love beneath the stars.

Chapter 10

“I don’t know about you, but I’m starved,” Nathan said.

They’d opted to spend their day in the port of Portofino in the small old resort town of Santa Margherita Ligure, with its candy-colored buildings and
trompe-l’oeil
frescoes, embraced by the sea on one side and the mountains on the other.

“I could eat. If you can hold out a bit, there’s a hilltop restaurant overlooking the town,” Laura offered.

Nathan shrugged and grinned. “I’m game.”

His phone vibrated in his pocket. Taking it out, he glanced at the screen and frowned. “I need to take this, do you mind?”

“No, of course not.”

“Hey, Amanda,” his voice going all sweet. “Thanks for calling me back. I forget about the time difference.” Nathan stepped into a tiny square where a fountain bubbled cheerfully.

Amanda? Hmm.
Who was Amanda? Laura wondered. Did she need to remind Nathan that she didn’t play ‘the other woman?’

He turned his back to her. She didn’t like eavesdropping, and while she wasn’t close to him, she could still hear his end of the conversation. Laura strolled over to the fountain, away from Nathan, and perched on its low wall.

“Listen, I had a big win last night at the craps tables in Monte Carlo—what? No, I haven’t started gambling. It was just for fun. Amanda—chill. I’m not going to have to join Gamblers Anonymous when I return.”

Nathan paced over to the fountain, as if he were oblivious she was there. So much for offering him privacy. Oh well. If he didn’t want it, she wasn’t inclined to give it to him. Especially when the conversation was just getting juicy.

“I wired that money to the farm account this morning. Yes. I want you to use it to pay on the mortgages. I know it’s not enough, but maybe it will hold the lenders at bay a little longer.”

So
that’s
why he’d wanted to find a bank. She thought he’d just wanted to deposit his winnings.

He paused, propping his leather-clad foot up on the wall next to her, listening to the other end of the conversation.

Laura dipped her hand in the cool water, trying to appear as if she wasn’t clinging to his every word. He’d wired last night’s winnings to a farm account and asked this
Amanda
to pay on the mortgages? Plural? Nathan didn’t strike her as the farmer type. And what lenders did he need to hold at bay?

“Okay,” Nathan continued. “I miss you, too.”

Laura clamped down on her reaction.
Missed her? Who was this woman?
Wincing, she realized that sounded a lot like jealousy. And she wasn’t the jealous type. Just selfish. She wanted to be the one and only, if only for a short time.

“I’m sorry to leave you with this mess, but it will pay off in the end. I promise. I’ll call you in a day or two.” He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. He stared straight ahead for a moment, before searching for Laura as if he didn’t know where she was. “Sorry about that. Family business.”

Family business?
Rising, she walked over to him. “Look, Nathan, we agreed, Rule Number Four: No personal questions, but we also agreed, Rule Number One: I’m not the other woman. So, I have to ask, who is Amanda?”

Nathan stepped into her, and cupping her face said, “Amanda is my baby sister. I promise there is no other woman.” He lowered his mouth to hers, taking her lips in a warm kiss, before retreating. “Now, I thought you were starving.”

Laura sighed. Nathan Maxwell sure knew how to kiss. “I am, but not for food anymore.”

A slow smile spread across his face. “Sugar, don’t tempt me.”

Laura had spent a good bit of t
he afternoon thinking over Nathan’s baffling phone conversation, trying to put the pieces together. She didn’t know why it mattered so much to her. Was Nathan in financial trouble? If so, why was he on this expensive cruise? Did he have a gambling problem, despite what he’d told his sister? To her knowledge, he hadn’t spent any time in the ship’s casino, and he hadn’t suggested they go there either.

And what was the deal with this farm? If he had a farm, what was he doing living in New York? Dressed like he belonged on the cover of
GQ
? She couldn’t imagine the urbane Nathan Maxwell in coveralls and a flannel shirt.

Her curiosity was eating her up, but she reminded herself of her own rules.

Her thoughts circled back to The Spy and she questioned again whether it could be Nathan. But no. She’d seen Greg talking with other passengers, taking notes on his tablet. Nathan hadn’t spent any time with other passengers—at least not that she knew—except in her presence.

“There’s an app for that,” Laura offered, responding to Nathan’s comment about people who couldn’t demonstrate even a modicum of courtesies.

She opened the door to her stateroom, Nathan’s laughter following her into the room. Glancing down, she saw an envelope on the floor, as if someone had slipped it under her door. The recipient name on the envelope read: LAURA ARMSTRONG. Before Nathan could see it, she flipped the enveloped and slid it open.

“It’s a telegram,” she muttered, confused, answering a question Nathan hadn’t asked. Skimming to the end, she saw her grandmother’s name.

“I didn’t know they still sent telegrams.”

“Me neither.” She wandered over to the picture window to read it.

“Not bad news, I hope?” Nathan asked, still standing near the door.

“Hmm? No,” she replied, distracted. “No, it’s not bad news, unless you consider being disinherited bad news.” Now why had she blurted that out?

She released a mirthless laugh. So the old bitty had finally done it. Apparently, it was official.

Her grandmother had been so pissed that Laura had missed her eightieth birthday celebration that she’d met with her team of lawyers and revised her will. She sighed, and collapsed into a nearby chair. Clearly the flowers, the bottle of
Krug Clos du Mesnil
champagne—her grandmother’s favorite—and the card did nothing to mitigate the woman’s wrath.

“Laura? Are you okay?” Nathan knelt in front of her, taking both her wrists in his.

Still stunned, she gazed out the window. “Yes. I’m fine.” Not really. Not yet. But she would be. She’d survived without her father’s love and her mother’s affection, she could survive without her grandmother’s money.

“No, you’re not.” Nathan said, his voice soft and understanding. “I can’t say I know what it feels like to be disinherited, but I imagine it doesn’t feel good. Why would your grandmother do that?”

Laura could feel tears stinging her eyes. She. Would. Not. Cry.
Especially
in front of Nathan.

And dammit.
It wasn’t the money. She didn’t need the money. She wasn’t afraid of hard work, and her salary and the money from her grandfather would support her quite comfortably. But the inheritance was just one more connection with her family, tenuous as it was, that was now broken. As far as her father was concerned, she didn’t exist. And now her grandmother felt the same way.

She swallowed the tears building in her throat, and gave Nathan a watery answer. “Because she can.”

“Ah, sugar.” He took the paper from her hand and laid it on the side table. “Come here.” He pulled her up and took her place in the chair, and drawing her into his lap, nestled her head beneath his chin.

It felt so damn good to nestle into his lap. To be held with such tenderness. Such . . . caring. She couldn’t resist burrowing in, pressing her face into the warmth of his neck.

Other than as a child, when Darcy’s mother or father comforted her, she couldn’t remember the last time someone had just held her. Certainly not the men she met. The men she had meaningless sex with. The only holding they wanted to do involved some form of sexual contact. Not this unbearable tenderness.

He stroked her hair, pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Not really. Rule Number Four.”

He chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Okay. What would you like to do?”

She raised her head and gazed into his kind eyes. “I’d like you to make love to me, Nathan.”

He held her gaze, then claimed her mouth with his. His fingers traced a lazy pattern across her back. Soothing and arousing all at once. He moved to cup her face in his hands, and she wrapped her hands around his wrists. His kisses were slow and thoughtful. Tender and sweet.

Sighing into his mouth, she relaxed into him. Let herself go. For once, just bared her soul and let herself be.

He unbuttoned her blouse, kissed her shoulder as he peeled back the silk. He popped open the front closure on her bra, baring her breasts to his touch, his mouth. Closing her eyes, she let him sweep her up and away. Lifting her off his lap, he stood her in front of him, removed her remaining clothes, before rising from the chair himself. “Sit.”

He knelt at her feet, gazing up into her face, his eyes liquid gold, warm. Spreading her legs, he tasted her, taking her breath away. She gripped his hair, fingers tangling, grasping. The pleasure almost unbearable. The climax burst upon her, taking her by surprise, making her cry out with the sheer glory of it.

After shedding his clothes, he lifted her from the chair carried her into the bedroom. Taking his mouth with hers, she tasted herself there. Gathering her close he slipped into her, a sigh on his lips. Lifting her hands above her head, his fingers intertwined with hers, he breathed her name.

“Look at me, sugar. My beautiful Laura.”

She opened her eyes to find him gazing into hers. Her heartbeat against his, their bodies joined, her soul laid bare to him. And she flew above it all, forgetting the pain, reveling in the unbearable sweetness of him.

Nathan lay with his arm around Laura, her head on his chest, his hand dr
awing circles on her back, as their breathing returned to normal.

Something happened this time. Something more than physical. Something simultaneously wonderful and frightening.

Wonderful, because he’d never experienced that connection with another woman before. Frightening, because, well, he’d never experienced that connection with another woman before. He wondered if Laura had felt it too.

Seeing her so distraught over that telegram had affected him. More than he’d like to admit. Who disinherited their own grandchild? He’d wanted to pick up the phone and give this woman who would so coldly use money as a weapon against her own flesh and blood a piece of his mind.