Or at the very least, his next adventure.
He was down for either.
* * *
HARPER RILEY CLOSED the door behind her, her heart dancing a flurried tippety-tap at the enigmatic stranger with the arresting eyes and magnificent build.
With all that solid muscle and those rugged good looks, he probably knew how to make a woman forget her own name.
Probably a player.
Most beautiful people were.
Not that she held that against him.
Hell, Harper played with the best of them.
But, whoa, she’d have to steer clear of that man for the duration of her trip.
This wasn’t a pleasure cruise for her.
It was work.
Her target was Stuart Buck, recently widowed, incredibly wealthy.
And very vulnerable.
Harper had plans to become the next Mrs. Stuart Buck.
She’d been tracking the older man’s activities for months. Harper knew everything that needed to be known about him.
A self-starter, Stuart was responsible for the rubber flush valve inside toilets. Not very glamorous, but mega lucrative, because everyone used toilets, right?
And while Harper didn’t love the idea of becoming Mrs. Toilet Queen, she’d probably just have to console herself by spending all that lovely toilet money.
So why was a multimillionaire hitching a ride on a commercial liner when he probably had a handful of yachts at his disposal?
Well, Stuart liked to think of himself as an everyman’s man. As in, he liked to surround himself with people who were still hungry, made him think he was still one of them.
Even though he wasn’t.
But Harper didn’t begrudge the old man his illusions. Everyone had something they liked to hold on to.
The plan was a relatively straightforward, if not classic, old-school seduction.
Stuart was still mourning his wife, but her death wasn’t so fresh that Stuart would find Harper’s interest offensive.
In Harper’s experience, men were simple creatures. At their core, they needed to be wanted, they needed someone to coo and aww over their accomplishments and laugh at their jokes.
A man was putty in a woman’s hands if she knew how to work those basic triggers.
And Harper had honed her skills to a knife point.
Tonight was the mixer dinner where she would set the plan in motion.
Everything was planned down to the smile. Seduction was about more than just dressing the part—it was making a calculated decision to steer conversations, reacting to body language and adjusting accordingly.
She mentally went over her game plan, ticking off items on her to-do list as she usually did before going after her target.
But this time, her neighbor kept interrupting her thoughts.
Harper frowned when she couldn’t quite stay on task.
The warning tingle in the pit of her belly should’ve been enough to shut down any meandering thoughts about the alluring stranger, but there was something about that man—jeez, she’d only caught a glimpse—that wouldn’t let loose.
And it was seriously messing with her game day ritual.
He was obviously single and ready to mingle.
Even though he was hot as hell and probably a fun time in the sack, Harper wouldn’t indulge.
A pretty face was a lie she couldn’t afford.
Her mother might not have absorbed the lesson in time but Harper sure as hell had—pretty mouths spewed convenient lies.
And now her mother was in a care facility without a cent to her name, because someone had fleeced her out of her savings with promises he’d never intended to keep.
Harper shook off the distasteful memories and hardened herself to the budding attraction that’d had the gall to spring up uninvited within her.
In another life, Harper could definitely see herself pressed up against all that lovely man-meat, but not today.
One glance and she could already tell he wasn’t worth her time.
He had that blue-collar ruggedness about him. Wind-chapped cheeks meant he worked outside in some capacity, or spent a lot of time skiing or sailing, but his hands were big and strong as if he was accustomed to hard work.
The man could probably bend her into a pretzel, but he couldn’t keep her in riches.
So, sorry, Mr. Cutie-pie, not going to happen.
Harper sighed. Oh, well. Time to focus on Mr. Buck.
Thin, bearded and balding Mr. Buck.
Just think of all that wonderful money.
TEAGAN CLOSED THE door to his stateroom, still thinking about the hottie with the body next door.
A cursory glance around the room confirmed it was nice—luxurious even—but he was more interested in getting to know why a woman like her was on a singles cruise, much less single.
Yeah, because let’s face it...you get a girl like that...you lock that shit down tight.
Not that he was a caveman or anything, but a woman with smoking curves like hers could turn any levelheaded man into a ground-pounding, chest-thumping gorilla.
Maybe J.T. had booked him on a...swingers cruise or something. Like that trip in Jamaica where all the people in a certain lifestyle flocked to get their groove on.
J.T. had mentioned he wanted Teagan to “whoop it up,” whatever that meant. And knowing J.T., that could mean virtually anything.
Plus J.T. would laugh his balls off sending Teagan on a swingers cruise without his knowledge.
A laugh a minute, little brother.
God, he hoped not.
He wasn’t the sharing type.
And J.T. knew that.
Okay, let’s go out on a limb and assume that J.T. is not that big of an asshole—particularly to the brother who’d saved his ass in Mexico—and safely assume that this cruise is exactly as it was booked.
Singles looking to mingle.
Ugh. He cringed at the very idea of walking around, acting like a horny dog, sniffing after eligible ladies in the hopes of a hook-up.
“J.T., you’re an ass,” he muttered, glancing around the room, wondering what his next step was. Was he supposed to do something? Go somewhere?
Was there an itinerary?
Teagan checked the nightstand, the bathroom and the small coffee table but found nothing to tell him what was in store for the next week. He sure as hell didn’t want to sit around twiddling his thumbs in his room.
It was bad enough he was going to be floating around without any work to keep him busy, but the threat of completely idle time gave him the willies.
His gaze traveled to the opposite wall, knowing Little Miss Hot Stuff was on the other side.
Either fate had one damn fine sense of humor or was a mean bitch, because that woman was going to be hard to put out of his mind.
Teagan didn’t know anything about her aside from the fact that he wanted to know