never dream of flipping somebody the bird—not even clueless drivers who cut her off because they were yacking on their cells. So why was she acting so damn hostile? So rude, when so many good-looking men were just waiting around to be of service?
“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “I’m behaving badly. I’m lowering myself to Fletcher’s level, and neither one of you deserve that.”
“Apology accepted,” Rio replied. “And, since I’m responsible for the security of this ship for another hour, I’ll leave you two to get acquainted. Keep the lady out of trouble, Aric.”
“Will do, sir.”
DeSilva nodded and went to the door, not liking the kid’s expression one bit. It was like Skandalis had assigned a sly young fox to watch a very vulnerable, very desirable bird, simply to rub his nose in it, too.
“Mr. DeSilva? Rio?”
Lola’s voice curled around him as though she’d cupped him from behind. He turned in time to catch a look of wanting on her face; an expression that made his body ache to reply in kind. “Yes, mi corazon?”
She nipped her lip, and the sight of those white teeth against her lush mouth made him wish such an endearment hadn’t slipped out. Where had that come from, anyway? Why was he letting on like he was on her menu, when the captain had declared her his dish?
“It is one-way glass in those picture windows, right?”
Whatever she’d done in that room on the Promenade Deck, he wished he’d seen it. He smiled at her, wishing he could do so much more…like getting rid of her watch dog.
“In broad daylight you’re relatively safe, yes,” he assured her.
But with me? Never!
6
Unlike Rio DeSilva, her cabana boy leaned against the same wall of the elevator as she did, standing close enough that their arms nearly touched. Not a bad thing, except, well—he was young. Which meant he either had the hots for her—
Oh, get real! You’re old enough to be his…aunt.
—or he wanted to make damn sure she didn’t escape when the doors opened downstairs. He was tall enough that he could gawk right down into her cleavage, and in the reflection of the stainless steel wall across from them, Lola could see he was doing just that. Probably ogling those Very Cherry nipples she was wishing she hadn’t painted. Probably because Captain Scandalous had clued him in about them.
It was too damn warm in here. Too quiet, with just the thrum of the elevator going all the way down from the penthouse deck.
“So,” she said, desperate for conversation, “I guess after you’ve worked your summer on the cruise ship, you’ll be going back to college?”
“And give up a cushy job like this?”
Smart aleck! If Aric weren’t so hot, with that medallion hanging among the sparse hairs on his chest, she’d smack him for sounding so insolent.
Lola shifted to her left, trying for a little more space. But damned if he didn’t shift, too.
“So this is your life’s work?” she challenged. “I suppose you play escort—bodyguard—whatever—for a different woman each week? The captain impresses me as a man with a lot of steam to let off.”
“You think I’m gonna answer that?”
She glared up at him, a teacher ready to put this wise-guy student in his place.
But his expression made her swallow her retort. Aric’s eyes were taking their own sweet time checking her out. They were a silvery green, those eyes, and his lips were parted just enough to make her think he modeled for magazines; had maybe gotten some botox shots to make them look so professionally pouty.
But, hey—he was looking at her! None of Fletch’s judgmental advice or left-handed compliments on his mind. And, actually, he was discreet and intelligent—at least about keeping the secrets of the man who signed his paychecks.
“Nice robe,” he said matter-of-factly. And damned if he didn’t run his finger up her arm, just enough to make her breath catch. “Silk?”
“Yeah. On clearance at Victoria’s Secret,” she breathed.
Now that sounded classy! Not only had her man—exman—run off with her plastic and her cell and her business accounts, but she was so high-class as to admit she wore stuff nobody else would pay full price for.
“I like it.”
Lola blinked. But she saw no smirk on his face or heard no telltale edge in his voice. Just a man of few words, making conversation. About her.
“Thank you, Aric.”
“No problem.”
So much for her rising opinion of him—but then, she hadn’t exactly been a shining example of the social graces, had she? “I—I want you to know that I’m not ordinarily so mouthy or—”
“Don’t go there.”
The elevator doors slid open with a seductive whisper, and he gestured for her to go first. They stepped out into a hallway she hadn’t seen—but then, she’d had little time to explore the ship. Incense, or maybe candles, filled the air with the subtle scent of sandalwood and Aric opened a carved door with elegant gold lettering that said THE GODDESS SPA. He was leaning down just enough that his face was level with hers. Kissing level…
“We’ll have lots of time to share secrets this week, Miss Lola,” he continued with a crocodile smile. “Why waste them on elevator chitchat, when we’ve got the Aphrodisia Suite all to ourselves?”
Was that a promise or a threat? Lola wasn’t sure how to answer him, now that he was stringing more than two or three words together.
“Miss Christy’ll be here in a minute. So I might as well relieve you of that robe.”
She blinked. Was this kid going to peel it off her? Right here in the spa lobby, where just anybody might walk in and—
He glanced at his watch—quite possibly a Rolex, but probably a knock-off. “Fifteen minutes—with two to spare. And naked. Right?”
A young man who took his work seriously. Lola turned her back to disrobe, but a huge gilt-framed mirror reflected Aric’s face then, right above her own, as she untied the sash. His eyes held hers in the glass as the silk slithered down past her shoulders, baring her breasts.
At least he didn’t tweak those lewd nipples, like the captain had. His smile was slow and sensuous like a lover’s, rather than a warden’s, and it occurred to Lola that maybe solitary confinement with Stud Boy here would be a welcome relief from working off her debt with the captain.
“Hey, sugar! Just in time!” a honeyed drawl accosted them. “Let’s get you into that little room and ready, shall we, darlin’?”
Was the masseuse talking to Aric, or her? Miss Christy’s enthusiasm was outdone only by her ample assets: she was a curvy blonde with hips that would’ve looked oversized had she not needed them to balance out the golden pillows pushing up out of her lacy pink pajama top. Lola hadn’t worn baby dolls since she was a kid, but this woman had just brought them back into vogue in a very adult way.
“I—nice to meet you, Miss—”
“Miss Christy. So glad to be helpin’ out!” she chirped, pumping Lola’s hand. “Nice to see a gal from the good ole U. S. of A.—not that these Greeks aren’t good-lookin’ and reeeeeal good about tippin’!”
Somehow, she’d expected a more…soft-spoken, New-Age, mystical type down here in the Goddess Spa. But then, what had gone like she’d expected it to?
Miss Christy gave Aric a cheerful salute—the changing of the guard—and then guided her toward a room behind the ornately