Bedroom Seductions: Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

If he hadn’t been intrigued enough before, he sure as hell was now, and despite the importance of keeping his mind on the job this cruise, he had to know more.

What was it about her that had him coiled tighter than an anchor chain?

He rubbed the bridge of his nose, but it did little to erase the beginnings of a headache building behind his eyes.

She was forthright and tetchy—not his type at all. Yet she was so delightfully unaffected, with an underlying hint of vulnerability that tugged at his heartstrings no matter how hard he tried to ignore the fact he still had a heart.

But he couldn’t get involved. At least not emotionally. Not now.

Besides, how would she feel if she knew he’d conned her? He hadn’t placed any call to head office. He didn’t have to. One of the perks of being the boss.

Speaking of which, he needed to get back to work. He was close, so close, to discovering the saboteur who was plaguing the company.

While Shelley’s fall might well have been an accident, there had been a couple of other incidents that weren’t as easily dismissed. His uncle’s suspicions that the Ocean Queen would be the next target had been well-founded. And the sooner he found the person who hadn’t disclosed a reckless disregard for everyone’s safety and comfort when boarding, the easier things would be for his uncle.

He owed Jimmy and, as he’d told Lana, he always paid his debts.

What would she think of the purely carnal payback system he’d like to instigate with her?

Lana stood under the shower, cool water sluicing down her body. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, enjoying the spray peppering her face, though it did little to wash away the memory of that damn kiss.

She was determined to forget it, to relegate it to the back of her mind alongside other horrific moments, like the time she had walked in on one of her students with the museum taxidermist in a decidedly unstuffy moment in the archive room, or the time she’d bawled when she’d got her first promotion.

Truly shuddery, forgettable moments—just like her response to that kiss last night.

So why couldn’t she wipe the memory, however hard she tried?

As she tipped her head forward and tied a towel turban-style around her dripping hair, she had a vision of Zac’s hungry stare as she’d left his office. Not that she’d wanted to provoke him—far from it. But he delighted in rattling her, in teasing her, and she’d wanted to get one back.

It hadn’t worked. The desire in his gaze had been real, potent, and oh-so-scary for a novice like her. Old Lana would have jumped ship and swum back to shore before he could wink. But she wasn’t the old Lana any more.

The old Lana wanted a husband, a family, a house in the suburbs to come home to every night after another satisfying day at the museum.

The new Lana still wanted all those things, but for the first time in her life she was experiencing the flicker of excitement that came with self-assurance—the heady rush of having a guy like Zac pay attention to a geek like her.

She’d never had that. Jax had faked a few compliments, fuelled her need to be noticed by a guy—any guy—and had reeled her in as part of his plan. He had used her before saying she was frigid when she couldn’t deliver what he’d wanted. His disdain haunted her to this day.

She knew his accusation was why she didn’t date very often, why she froze when a guy got physically close.

So why had she combusted in Zac’s arms during that kiss?

Subconsciously she knew.

She wanted to feel alive, wanted to tap into the passion simmering deep inside, wanted to be bold and brazen and beautiful rather than a mousy, boring workaholic.

Zac had a way of looking at her as if she was the only woman in the world, and when he did the small, wistful part of her that wanted to be that confident woman dared to hope.

She made it back to his office with a minute to spare.

‘Come on in. I’ve got the forms for you.’

‘Great.’

As she stepped into the office he briefly touched her elbow, bending lower on the pretext of closing the door. ‘What? No perfume?’

Her gaze snapped to his, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of a cheeky grin before he turned away. Her scowl was wasted.

‘Why don’t I take them away with me, fill them out, and drop them at the front desk when I’m done?’

She might be feeling braver after breezing through the class, but there was something about him now—the way he looked at her, as if seeing her in a new light. While she should be happy, her inner introvert trembled at what he might do if he sensed the change in her.

He tapped the stack on his desk, beckoned her over. ‘Believe me, when you take a look at these you’ll be thanking me for filling them out here. I’ve helped employees through the rigmarole before; we’ll get it done in half the time.’

Okay, so he was being helpful. Then why did it feel like the Big Bad Wolf lending Red Riding Hood a hand before gobbling her up?

‘Right—let’s get to work, then.’

She plopped on the chair opposite his, drew the forms towards her.

He stilled her hand by placing his on top, setting her pulse racing as she stifled the urge to yank her hand away.

‘Not much intimidates you, does it?’

She raised an eyebrow. If he had any idea how her heart thumped, her lungs seized and her insides quaked at his simple touch, he’d withdraw that statement.

‘I can usually handle stuff.’

Professionally, that was. Anything else and she was about as poised as a toddler on ice-skates.

‘Think you can handle me?’

His voice had dropped seductively low, and the smouldering flame in his eyes warmed her, warning her that she was in way over her head with this one if she thought for one second a small boost in confidence could cope with the likes of him at his tempting best.

‘I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard.’

She almost bit her tongue in frustration, unwittingly adding to the wordplay. Heat suffused her cheeks, and she wished she had the guts to toss her hair over her shoulder, not duck her head like the blushing virgin she almost was.

His grin had tension strumming her taut muscles. ‘You’re very assured when you want to be.’

Only when he needled her enough that she forgot her shyness.

‘Mainly when putting guys like you back in your place.’

He leaned forward, close enough to whisper in her ear. ‘Guys like me?’

Resisting the urge to jerk back from his proximity, she settled for a subtle slide of her hand out from under his instead.

‘Over-confident. Smooth. Charming. Used to getting your own way.’

Rather than being offended, he laughed. ‘Guilty as charged.’

He leaned into her personal space again, crowding her, overwhelming her, confusing her.

‘So, is it working?’

‘What?’

‘My charm.’

‘Not a bit.’

She crossed her fingers behind her back at the little white lie. ‘Now, if there’s nothing else, let’s get these forms done so I can enjoy my holiday.’

‘Actually, there was something else.You know I owe you?’

‘Uh-huh.’

The instant wariness in Lana’s eyes made Zac chuckle.

‘How about a tour when we dock in Suva? I’ve got the day off, so I could show you the sights. What do you think?’

Her eyes lost their cautious edge as her lips curved into a smile—the type of genuinely happy smile that could easily tempt a man to want more, a lot more.

‘Sounds good. Know any hot spots?’

Yeah. Just below her ear, above her collarbone, and dead on her soft lips…

‘Several.’

His tone must have alerted her to his thoughts, for her eyes widened, glowed with understanding, till he could distinguish the tiniest green flecks in the molten caramel before the shutters quickly descended.

‘A tour sounds great.’

She dropped her gaze in record time, her tongue darting out to moisten her top lip. The nervous action did little to dissipate his growing interest in discovering what really made this tantalising woman tick.

Considering how much he wanted to get to know her, perhaps he should rethink Suva—especially his idea about taking her to his favourite secluded beach. If he could barely keep his hands off her here, what hope did he have in blissful isolation on the most spectacular stretch of pristine sand he’d ever seen?

‘Right, it’s a plan.’

He’d almost said a date, but dates implied more of that physical stuff he was afraid would scare her off. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t wipe a vivid fantasy of the two of them splashing in the lagoon, him play-wrestling her, her wrapping her legs around him, her wet skin plastered to his, no clothes…

She stood abruptly, the chair almost toppling. ‘Look, I really appreciate the offer to help, but I’ll be fine with these forms. I’ll holler if I need anything.’

Judging by her shaky voice she knew exactly what he was thinking, and she reacted the way she usually did: by erecting verbal barriers and making a run for it.

She scooped up the papers and made a dash for the door in an awful fluorescent flurry of floral ankle-length skirt the colour of a lifejacket. Her hurried departure left him shaking his head as she slammed the door.

After she’d left, he sank into his chair and wiped a hand over his face. No—didn’t help. He could still see her wide-eyed guarded expression, the hint of suspicion in those hazel depths, the wary curve of her lips.

She didn’t trust him—didn’t accept his interest as real. Not that he blamed her. He’d given her no indication to the contrary, playing the flirt, keeping things light-hearted, seeing how far he could push her before she reacted.

Someone or something had destroyed her belief in her attractiveness, and he’d hazard a guess that some jerk had done a number on her. It would explain her naivety, her lack of artifice when it came to playing coy or flirting back. Which meant he should give her a wide berth. Instead, he wanted her with a staggering fierceness, and the depth of his need was obliterating every common sense reason why he shouldn’t do this.

He didn’t need the distraction. He had a job to do. But if his head kept spinning like a compass needle his concentration would be shot anyway so maybe he should spend a bit of time getting to know her—the real her, not the cagey woman who hid her mistrust behind lowered eyes and fiddling hands.

Muttering a few curses which wouldn’t make many of his colleagues blush, he picked up the phone and placed his daily call to Jimmy.

The phone rang three times precisely—the same number every day—which proved his uncle waited by the phone, despite his protests to the contrary that he totally trusted him that the company was in safe hands.

‘Hey, Uncle Jimmy, it’s me.’

‘Zachary, my boy. How’s things?’

Where should he start? With the part where he still felt like a fraud, running the company from behind the scenes until their culprit was caught, or the part where he was crazy for a woman who bolted every time he got close?

‘Fine. I’m making progress.’

He didn’t need to spell it out. His uncle had been the first to notice the ever-increasing number of ‘accidents’, the first to see the bad publicity begin to affect sales, and the one to notice the pattern of the incidents and predict the Ocean Queen would be next.

And, though he’d never admit it, the ensuing stress hadn’t helped his battle with the illness that was slowly but surely killing him.

‘Good. Because once you sort out the Australian side of things, there’s that Mediterranean problem that needs attention.’

‘All under control.’

He’d decided to run things from the London office for a year. More to do with the old man needing him there rather than with business. Not that Jimmy wanted to be mollycoddled. He’d made that perfectly clear. But under all that gruffness was a scared man fighting to stay alive, and Zac would be damned if he left the only father he’d ever known alone at a time like this.

He wanted to ask Jimmy how he was feeling, how the treatment was going, but knew he’d get the usual brush-off.

‘So how’s things in London?’

‘All good here.’

He heard the strain beneath the forced upbeat tone.

‘And you? How’re you feeling?’

A slight pause followed by a grim throat-clearing. ‘Can’t complain.’

James Madigan wouldn’t. He hadn’t complained when Zac had left him in the lurch for a year, after he’d run off to marry Magda, hadn’t complained when he’d had a near-fatal heart attack as a result of the stress from his increased workload—picking up the slack because of Zac’s selfishness—and hadn’t complained when Zac had outlined his plans for a future in direct opposition to his.

He was that sort of man: rock-solid, steadfast. And he was the man Zac owed everything to—the type of man he aspired to be.

‘Your PR stint working out okay?’

‘Yeah, the staff are buying it, and I’m getting the info I need, so that’s the main thing.’

Jimmy coughed—an ear-splitting, hacking cough that chilled Zac’s blood. Aware that his uncle hated appearing weak in any way, he quickly tried to distract him.

‘Get this. I had Helena Rock on my case this morning, going berserk. Can’t tell you how close I was to telling her I actually run the company now. That would’ve put the old battle-axe back in her place.’

Jimmy chuckled—something Zac wished he could hear more often. ‘Lucky you didn’t. Otherwise you’d have had a mutiny on your hands. Imagine if everyone knew I’d made you head honcho and hadn’t announced it officially yet? You wouldn’t get to catch the bastard hurting our ships, for a start.’

‘You’re right. But I hate lying. The staff respect and trust me as a fellow employee. I feel like I’m using them.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. This is business. Cruise lines are becoming more competitive every day. We can’t afford to let this stuff continue or it’ll really start to hurt us. It’s your company now.’ He paused, the rattle in his throat indicating another cough coming on. ‘I’d do the job if I could. Unfortunately, I’m just an old sea dog who has to live vicariously through you these days, so make sure you do a damn good job.’

Zac searched for words to reassure him, to explain he couldn’t be prouder that Jimmy was leaving him the company he’d built from scratch. Though he was glad to get a chance to feel the salt air in his face one last time.

As if reading his mind, Jimmy said the right thing—as usual.

‘I wouldn’t have placed you in charge of my empire unless I thought you were capable, Zachary.’

‘Yeah—a regular shipping magnate, that’s me.’

He’d wondered why his uncle had pushed him into shipping after he finished his commerce degree, not twigging that the crafty codger was grooming him till a year into his first contract. By then he’d been hooked—addicted to the shifting deck under his feet and the tang of salt air in his lungs.

He was proud to be in charge of the Madigan Shipping conglomerate, and would do whatever it took to make it the best damn shipping line in the world. He had big shoes to fill. He owed Jimmy. Now more than ever.

‘You’re doing a fine job, my boy. Now, you better get back to work. Just because you’re the boss now, doesn’t mean you can slack off.’

Zac laughed, half raising his hand in a salute just as he’d used to when he was a little boy, before dropping it uselessly, all too aware he wouldn’t have much time left to share a joke with his uncle.

‘You look after yourself.’

He only just heard a mumbled, ‘You’re as bad as these damn nurses,’ before Jimmy hung up.

Life was short. Seeing a strong, vibrant man like Jimmy fade away reinforced that, and he’d be damned if he sat here and let Lana disembark next week without fully exploring this unrelenting attraction driving him to seek her out almost every second of the day.

He didn’t want to look back on this time and regret it—didn’t want to be left with memories of a kiss and little else.

She could run but she couldn’t hide, and tonight he’d make sure she knew exactly how much he wanted her.

A woman like Lana needed to be wooed, deserved to be treated right—starting with a romantic first date designed to bring a smile to her face and banish her doubts that he was anything other than genuine—in his pursuit of her, at least.

CHAPTER SIX

SHE was lousy at this.

Zac had flirted with her over starter, main course and dessert, showering her with flattery, teasing her, making her laugh. By the time she’d finished a divine lime tart smothered in lashings of double cream her sides and her cheeks ached, and he’d well and truly slipped under her guard despite logic telling her he was playing a game.

‘Fancy having coffee in one of the lounges?’

He leaned towards her, immediately creating an intimacy excluding the rest of the people at their table. It set her pulse racing, throwing her off balance quicker than the two-metre swells buffeting the ship.

‘Only if you let up with the compliments.’

‘Why?’

His eyes darkened like storm clouds scudding across a midnight sky.

‘It’s overkill.’

‘But all true.’

She raised an eyebrow and sent a pointed look at her unadorned navy shift dress. ‘You think I look good in this?’

His gaze dipped to her dress, lifted to focus on her lips, before his curved into a roguish smile.

‘What you wear is irrelevant. You’re beautiful.’

She exhaled on a soft sigh, wishing for one incredible moment she could be seduced into believing him, giving in to his low voice, his hypnotic eyes, his sincere expres-sion. But she wasn’t beautiful, far from it, and falling under a suave sailor’s spell was beyond foolish.

‘Now that you’ve exercised all those smooth sailor boy lines for the evening, maybe I will have that coffee. I’m in need of a caffeine hit to wake me from the stupor you’ve got me in after all that stuff you’ve been shovelling.’

He laughed. ‘It’s a date. Just let me drop by the office to check on a fax, and I’ll meet you in the Crow’s Nest Lounge in ten minutes?’

‘Make it five?’

‘Can’t bear to be away from me for long?’

‘Actually, I was thinking more of the fact I need to be up early for my first official aerobics class, so I don’t want to be out too late.’

‘Spoilsport. I thought you might be pumping up my ego for a delusional moment there.’

‘Like you need it.’

Tapping her watch face, she sent him a saccharine-sweet smile. ‘Four minutes and counting. If you want that coffee you’d better get a move on.’

He held up three fingers. ‘Bet I beat you there.’

‘You’re on.’

She made a dash for the Ladies’ on the way, unable to resist touching up her lipstick. Woeful behaviour for a girl who rarely wore anything but a slick of moisturiser back home, but considering he kept studying her as if she was a priceless painting she had no choice. That sort of scrutiny put a girl under pressure—especially one who didn’t feel beautiful, let alone believe she deserved compliments—and she needed all the help she could get.

As she strolled into the Crow’s Nest with ten seconds to spare, her stomach somersaulted as she caught sight of Zac at a cosy table for two in the farthest corner, beckoning her over with a smug smile.

‘What did you do? Sprint the whole way?’

He pulled out a seat for her and she sank into it before her knees gave the telltale wobble they had whenever he got too close.

‘The fax hadn’t arrived. I ducked my head in the door, had a quick look, and headed straight here. What about you? Have a quick dip overboard before you joined me?’

She tilted her nose in the air and sent him a withering stare. ‘First I’m beautiful; now I look like a drowned rat. You need to work on your charm.’

‘That’s what you’re here for.’ He trailed a fingertip down her forearm and her breath caught. ‘I need the practice. Now, fancy a coffee? Drink?’

‘Make mine a double,’ she muttered, snatching her arm away and sending him a disapproving glare that did little to curb his sexy smile.

‘Really?’

She waved him away. ‘No, just order me something sweet and yummy.’

‘You’ve already got it. But I’ll get you a drink too.’

Poking her tongue out in response to his corny comeback, she waited till he’d headed for the bar before grabbing a coaster and fanning her face.

Every second she spent in his company was confusing her further. The closest she’d come to feeling like this before was watching Ocean’s Eleven. What hope did a girl have with George Clooney, Brad Pitt and Matt Damon on screen simultaneously?

She’d only agreed to Zac’s invitation because she didn’t want to head back to her tiny cabin just yet—didn’t want to be alone.

Tonight was the anniversary of Jax spitting the truth at her—the anniversary of the night he’d dumped her in no uncertain terms. And while she’d made a new life, moved to a new city, taken up new activities, she couldn’t forget the devastation, the embarrassment that she’d made such a monumental error in judgment.

It wasn’t a night to be alone. It was a night to be distracted with funny quips and compliments, no matter how meaningless, a night to erase the memories of how naïve she’d once been.

‘You okay?’

Her heart sank as he dumped their drinks on the table and pulled his chair next to hers, concern creasing his brow.

Blinking rapidly, she pointed to her contact lens. ‘Still not used to these darn things. Wish I’d brought my glasses this trip.’

His eyes narrowed as they locked onto hers, probing, yet compassionate. ‘I’d believe you if I hadn’t seen your expression.’ He jerked his thumb over his shoulder towards the bar. ‘From over there you looked like someone had died. Then I get back here and you’re almost crying—’

‘I’m not!’

She sniffed as a lone tear chose that moment to squeeze out of her eye and roll down her cheek, plopping on the back of her hand clenched in her lap.

‘The hell you’re not.’ He brushed a thumb under her eye, so tenderly she almost burst into tears on the spot. ‘Now why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?’

She shook her head, mortified he’d seen her like this, frantically racking her brain for something halfway plausible to tell him—anything other than the truth.

Placing his hand over hers, he gave it an encouraging squeeze. ‘Tell me.’

She opened her mouth, closed it, then repeated her goldfish impersonation. Her mind was blank apart from the glaring truth: that it had been over three years since Jax had dumped her, and the memory still had the power to make her blubber.

‘It’s a guy, isn’t it? What did the jerk do?’

Her gaze focussed on his, her tears rapidly drying under all that fierce, fiery blue. He almost looked possessive, protective, and she found herself wanting to tell him. A small part of her was thrilled he actually seemed to care.

‘Tonight’s an anniversary of sorts.’

She stared down at his hand covering hers: tanned, strong, oh, so comforting. Some of that strength transferred to her as she took a deep breath and kept talking.

‘I loved this guy—thought he was the one. He said all the right things, did all the right things, but turned out he was only after… one thing.’

She’d almost blurted the truth—that Jax had only been schmoozing her for what she could do for him at the museum. He’d wanted insider info on items for his private collection. But she couldn’t tell Zac about any of that, considering he thought she was a fitness instructor.

‘We didn’t really click, so he dumped me.’She shrugged, hating the lance of pain still lodged deep in her heart. ‘Said I was just a fling, a bit of fun.’

She hiccupped, a pathetic half-sob, angry at the sting of yet more tears, angry at herself more for being such a gullible fool.