Читать книгу All Night Long - Melissa MacNeal - Страница 10

When she stepped out into Kingsley’s desk area, the concierge was talking in hushed tones with Rio DeSilva and another dashing man in dress whites. The three turned with encouraging smiles—which meant they’d been talking about her.

See there? You ARE important enough that the most gallant, handsome men aboard this ship—

Lola’s jaw dropped. The man in the uniform of blinding white, with the Mediterranean tan and laugh lines, and that raven hair laced with silver, was none other than Captain Scandalous! He was even more of a Greek god in person than on TV. And he was smiling at her. Drinking her in with obsidian eyes that sparkled with plans!

“Miss Wright, let me express my regrets for the unfortunate situation Mr. Fletcher has left you in,” he crooned, oozing with ambiance as he offered his hand. “Captain Skorpio Skandalis. Pleased to meet you, despite such unfortunate circumstances.”

Lola felt his warm hands enfolding—no, enslaving—hers. “Captain Scandalous! I mean—Skahn-DAH—it’s such a pleasure to—so not me to be this—”

His midnight eyes lit up with mirth. And why wouldn’t they? Could she turn any more shades of red or trip over her tongue any faster?

“You are understandably upset,” he assured her, still holding her hand captive between his. “But you surely realize that we must have a plan to pay for the items Mr. Fletcher charged in the ship’s shops and—”

What was wrong with this picture? With a firm tug, Lola freed her hand from the captain’s.

“Wait a minute! You think I planned to get ripped off?” she retorted. “After I finally convinced Fletcher to come on this trip—and to set a wedding date!—and I arranged to be away from my business for eight days—”

The men’s smiles were tightening, probably because guests were parading by in their finery, on the way to the Captain’s Gala Reception. Lola paused, to pull her foot from her mouth again.

“I’m sorry. I detest women who make a scene, or who whine and play helpless,” she said in a lower tone. “But dammit, I didn’t come on this cruise to get broadsided by a jerk who’s allergic to commitment—and who’s run off with a woman he just met! Not to mention a helluva lot of my money!”

“Please, Miss Wright,” the concierge said, his eyes shining like a summertime sky. “Fantasy Cruise Line understands such emergencies, and I’m sure we can work these matters out. Now that we’ve reported the theft of your credit cards—”

“If you could create the man of your fantasies, who would he be, Lola?”

She sucked air at the intensity of Rio DeSilva’s topaz gaze. His voice soothed her like warm, sweet brandy. Such a question came like a bolt from the blue—an outrageous question, from a man she’d met just today!

But he was serious. He was still focused on her, standing tall yet relaxed; just his presence suddenly settled all the conflicts about Fletch and her credit cards. Or at least she forgot all about them as her lips parted and she returned his soulful gaze.

This wasn’t idle chitchat he was making. He expected an answer! And with three handsome men in uniform watching her, Lola sensed she’d better come up with something coherent.

If you could create the man of your fantasies, who would he be, Lola?

It didn’t help that the captain and the concierge were smiling expectantly, as though they could see through their cohort’s ploy—and her silky robe, as well. As though they might decide their course of action after hearing her reply to Rio DeSilva’s loaded question.

She blinked, tugging her lapels together. She was a free woman now, so she could answer this security agent’s question any way she liked, right? So why not lay it all out? These three heroes of the high seas might as well know exactly what she expected of any male she might create!

“I want a man who’ll make a home and a family with me,” she replied in a thoughtful murmur. “A man who’ll be king of his castle and treat me like a queen. His queen.”

Rio’s sensual mouth softened with a wistful smile.

“A refreshing revelation, in this day and age,” he replied with a nod. “And what man wouldn’t want to build his world around you, Lola? To lavish his love upon you in a hundred ways each day? But surely there’s more.”

Lola’s eyes widened. Why had they gone from discussing repayment plans to writing a script for Fantasy Island? Would the floor open up and send her swooping down a chute into the open sea, if she said the wrong thing? Captain Scandalous and Mr. Kingsley looked like guys who played by Old World rules. She’d better beware of stepping on their chivalrous yet chauvinistic toes with that attitude Fletch had always ragged her about.

And why don’t you just play along? the voice in her head piped up.

It’s your vacation, remember? A girl doesn’t get many chances to make men LOOK—and here’s yours, honey!

“Well—since this is a fantasy, after all,” she went on in a bolder tone, “I want a man who respects my intelligence and business savvy! A life partner who understands that I must work very hard to maintain my accounts and my professional reputation!”

Her heart was pounding now, her need for nicotine overridden by Rio’s invitation to dream big!

“A man who enjoys my success as well as his own,” she added emphatically. “Yet he’ll cuddle me when the chips are down, and—and help me believe in myself again!”

The area behind the crescent information desk rang with a silence so profound, it blocked out the sounds of the well-dressed crowd going to the gala.

Clive Kingsley smiled, his face alight with interest. “And what is it you do, Ms. Wright?”

While he was the most reserved of the trio, in his conservative navy blue uniform and a tie that matched his eyes, Lola sensed a sincere interest in her professional accomplishments. And perhaps her personal attributes, as well.

“I’ve created a chain of menswear stores called Well Suited,” she replied, standing taller. “I operate on the premise that men on any level rise higher faster if they’re better dressed—not just designer suits and high-end Italian shoes,” she added fervently, “but advice, from my specially trained staff, about which styles play up their bodies to their best advantage. How to present themselves well for any occasion, whether it be corporate interviews or class reunions.”

“The classic ‘clothes make the man’ concept, eh?” Clive’s grin held a delicious secret: he was choosing his words as carefully as he’d select truffles from the high-end chocolatier on the ship. “Not an easy sell, in this era where khakis and polo shirts are considered acceptable business attire.”

Lola beamed her appreciation at the insightful Brit. Then she let her gaze linger on his imperial physique.

“You wear slacks with a thirty-four inch waist and take the same measure at the inseam, don’t you, Mr. Kingsley?”

He stood taller, his interest—and his zipper—more piqued than before.

Lola’s voice lowered into that seductive tone she reserved for closing deals with tightwad tycoons, selling them three suits rather than two. “And you’ve wisely chosen pleated pants, because that jock sock you call underwear holsters an eight-inch pistol, I’m guessing. And it’s half-cocked right now.”

DeSilva and the captain snickered, but the way Kingsley shifted, his eyes widening with admiration, made Lola feel bolder. After all, this was an adult cruise and these three men were here to ensure her pleasure, despite the havoc Fletch had wreaked upon her finances. It was their place to serve, which implied she was their mistress.

Lola liked that idea!

“While I’m on a roll, I’m going to press for the ultimate fantasy,” she continued with a shimmy that made her nipples whisper against her robe. “I want a man who’ll drive me over the edge with passion, until I come—and come again, dammit! A lover who’ll spend the time I need to—who’ll take control until I lose it! A man who’ll keep me coming all night long!”

Skorpio Skandalis stuffed his hands in his pockets, his nostrils flaring like a stallion’s as his eyes lit up with a wicked awareness of her. The temperature of the little alcove rose with his body heat.

“Well, gentlemen, there we have it!” he proclaimed, his Greek accent edgy now. “Miss Wright has stated her needs, and it’s our duty to meet them—while finding a way for her to repay the charges accrued in her name. How shall we go about this?”

Kingsley flashed them all a pointed smile. “I’m sure we’ll find myriad ways for a woman of Ms. Wright’s abilities to—right herself, if you will. And should you need assistance with formal wear—and you will, my dear—”

“Need assistance? Or formal wear?” she challenged.

The sexual energy these three generated sent her pulse into overdrive with a heady mix of testosterone and adrenaline. She was outnumbered here—in over her head. But she dealt with high-powered men every day, and she was getting too damn tingly to care!

Clive’s grin waxed cryptically British. “I hope you’ll allow me to be of service,” he replied with a slight bow. “While we have three boutiques that specialize in bling, only one carries clothing befitting a woman of your classic tastes and expertise—”

“No, no, no,” Rio DeSilva interjected.

On any other man, his stiletto mustache would look ridiculous, yet the security agent resonated with an eloquence harkening back to Spanish nobility. A Don Quixote of the open seas, he was…or perhaps a pirate of the Caribbean, considering the playfulness that bubbled like champagne in his tawny eyes right now.

“This is not about adhering to our agendas,” he reminded his colleagues, “nor is it about that loser who left her in debt, or about following cruise line rules and regulations. It’s about Lola. Whatever Lola wants.”

As Rio stepped forward to clasp her hands, Captain Skandalis looked on with a glimmer in his onyx eyes. “I couldn’t agree more,” he murmured. “From here on out, our policy shall be ‘whatever Lola wants, Lola gets.’

“So, Ms. Wright,” he continued, stepping up beside DeSilva to nail her with his bottomless black eyes, “what shall it be? Would you rather be removed from the Aphrodite in cuffs—handed over to the authorities at our next port? Or will you work off your debts at my discretion?”

Lola’s jaw dropped—and then she bristled. “That’s a helluva way to—”

“Whatever Lola wants,” the captain quipped in a clipped voice. “Make your decision. I’m late for my reception.”

Where did this guy get off, threatening to remove her from the cruise in cuffs? As though she had charged those things in the boutiques, with no intention of paying for them?

Lola slipped her hands from between DeSilva’s and planted her fists in her hips. It was a clichéd move, but it improved the view she was giving them. Perhaps her Very Cherry tips would change the Captain’s mind—or convince his cohorts to rescue her.

“Are you telling me what I can or cannot do?” she challenged. “Dennis Fletcher made that mistake, and I won’t miss that about him! You know damn well I’ll honor my obligations—my own legitimate expenses—no matter who—”

“A wise choice!” Skandalis crowed, his eyes flashing. “You’ve just become my love slave for the remainder of the cruise, Ms. Wright. I’ve already had your belongings transferred to more suitable quarters, and I’ve assigned you a personal companion to—”

Why did this suddenly sound like house arrest with a warden? And premeditated, no less!

Lola widened her eyes at Captain Scandalous. “You can’t just—”

“I am the captain, Miss Wright,” he stated with rich simplicity. “You’ve given yourself into my service, as a consenting adult. So for the duration of this trip, you belong to me, and me alone.”

The Greek leaned forward, until his chiseled nose and those deep, dark eyes were mere inches above her own. Persuasive, to say the least.

“You will relinquish all control to me, little lady,” he said in a voice that forced her to read his lips. “Control over your schedule, your personal problems and finances, your…sexual desires. You will be mine, and mine alone, Lola. Do we understand each other?”

Something told her not to sass him about that “little lady” thing. She blinked her yes, not dropping her gaze; not wanting to, even though every fiber of her body throbbed with resentment toward this chauvinistic goat who thought he was God’s gift to her fantasy life.

That was resentment she was feeling, right?

Skandalis snickered, flicking a nipple that had slipped from the front of her robe.

“Fine! We’ve reached our agreement!” he said in a wicked whisper. “So now you will go upstairs to your new room, to prepare yourself for my pleasure. And then you’ll report to the spa. Half an hour. Naked.”