Caribbean Cruising (6 page)

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If the experience turned out to be as wonderful as I hoped it would, it would be a memorable night to carry with me always. If it was awkward—well, I'd never have to face the guy again, so any embarrassment I might have felt would end when I stepped off the ship. The guy wouldn't be in my life to remind me of any blunders I made.

My plan made even more sense to me now that I was actually waking up in bed with a guy. I was definitely wishing I'd never see Ryan again.

Not that
that
was going to happen. Why did he have to be Walter's godson? Why did he have to go to the same university that I planned to attend? Why had I told him about my list, and why, oh, why, had I slept in his bed?

Holding my breath I pinched the cuff of his shirt and held his wrist up while I eased out from beneath his arm. Then I lowered his hand to the bed.

Slowly, slowly, slowly I made my way off the bed. I crept to the balcony, eased open the door, slipped outside, and picked up my sandals. I snuck back into his room and headed for the door. My gaze fell on his nightstand. My purse! What was my purse doing here?

Then I remembered. He was going to call the front desk. He must have located Cindy, or she'd brought it by…I shook my head. It didn't matter. My purse was here and with it came my key.

I tiptoed to the nightstand and gingerly lifted my purse, then crept to the doorway.

I glanced over my shoulder at the guy lying on the bed.

I felt a twinge of regret, disappointment, and sadness which I couldn't explain. Ryan was handsome and nice, but I did not want my summer fling to be with someone I might possibly see later on.

I opened the door and walked out. Once in the hallway I searched my purse, retrieved my key, and went into my cabin. It felt good to be in my own haven. I crossed the room to the table where I'd left my backpack. I retrieved my tiny notebook where I kept my lists and turned to the last list—the list of things I wanted to do on this cruise.

I needed to be a bit more specific. As soon as I'd corrected my list, I headed for the shower. It was time to begin my best summer ever.

CHAPTER 7

A
fter slathering on suntan lotion, I settled back into the lounge chair beside one of three pools that dotted the ship. This one was for adults only, so I figured it would be quieter than the other two, which did allow children. It didn't have curling waterslides or resemble a water park in any way, and that's what I wanted right now. I had a slight headache behind my eyes—from lack of sleep and too much champagne.

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I was trying to ignore the discomfort, which wasn't too easy to do. Although I was wearing my sunglasses, I could still see the sunlight glinting off the blue water. Water almost as blue as Ryan's eyes.

Don't think about him
, I commanded myself.

I was beginning to regret sneeking out of his cabin because now I had to figure out what to say when I saw him again. I didn't understand why male-female relationships couldn't be easier. It had to be that Mars-Venus thing that I'd read about.

I told myself that I really didn't have anything to feel uncomfortable about. Obviously he'd seen me when I was at my silliest, but he'd been drinking too. So he might not even remember me jabbering about my list. We'd slept in the same bed for one night. Big deal.

Although Walter had invited him so I would have a pal, I figured that Ryan hanging around with me would seriously keep the other guys away. I would never accomplish my goal of losing my virginity while on this cruise. So I'd cut Ryan free, and now he could pursue his own interests.

I adjusted my wide-brimmed floppy hat so my eyes were more shaded. I was thinking that I might need to invest in some superpowerful sunglasses. I closed my eyes, and let the warmth of the sun relax me as the ship cruised through the waters toward the Caribbean.

I tried to block out the sound of other people coming to the pool. It had been pretty crowded when I arrived, but the cacophony of voices got louder as the minutes ticked by. We wouldn't reach our first port until sometime tomorrow. Today I suspected most people were simply checking out the ship.

The lounge chair beside mine squeaked as someone sat in it. Too delicate of a squeak to be a guy. That is, if squeaks can be classified as being delicate.

I heard the movements of someone getting situated. I smelled coconut-scented suntan lotion.

Definitely not a guy. Too bad.

"Sorry to bother you, but could you get my back?"

I opened my eyes. The girl sitting on the chair beside mine was holding a bottle toward me. She was deeply tanned already. Her dark hair was cut short and had bleached spikes.

She shook the bottle of lotion in front of me. "Do you mind? I know it's kind of an intrusion, but I have this skin cancer phobia."

I didn't think her phobia could be too great when her bathing suit left most of her skin exposed. She was practically overflowing out of the top of her bikini. I glanced down at my chest. I was tucked neatly into place. Overflowing wasn't an option for me.

I looked back at her. I would have thought someone with a phobia would have been all covered up. Still, I understood that when it came to getting lotion on your back, you had to take whatever help was available.

"No, I don't mind." I took the bottle and quickly applied the lotion. Her two-piece was much skimpier than mine. Just above one of the strings tying the bottom piece together at her hips was a small tattoo of a red rose. She had other tattoos—a dragon on her left shoulder, and what looked like a delicate bracelet mhtml:file://C:\Program Files\eMule\Incoming\+ Hawthorne, Rachel - Caribbean Cruising....

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drawn around her left wrist and ankle.

I didn't have any tattoos.

"Did getting the tattoos hurt?" I asked.

She looked over her shoulder at me. "Sure, but they're worth it. You should get one."

"I wouldn't know what to get."

"Something that reflects your personality."

I supposed I could start keeping a list as ideas came to me, until one felt right—a rose, a heart, a moon and stars. It wasn't a decision I could make quickly because once the tattoo was there, it stayed unless I did something drastic like having it surgically removed or redesigned into something else. No, I definitely didn't want to act hastily here.

"There you go." I handed her bottle of lotion back to her, and settled into my lounge chair.

"Thanks. I'm Brooke Hastings by the way."

"Lindsay Darnell."

"Is this your first cruise?"

"Yeah. Am I that obvious?"

She shrugged. "Not really. You're just so pale."

I glanced down at my legs, and then over at hers. She definitely spent a lot of time beneath the sun, skin cancer phobia or no.

"So why are you out here by yourself?" she asked.

"I'm an only child, and I didn't bring any friends along."

"So you're traveling with your parents?"

That made me sound like a child. "Not exactly. My mom got married onboard the ship last night."

"It wasn't the wedding that had the top deck reserved, and kept us in port until midnight, was it?"

"That's the one."

"Wow. Someone in your family must be related to the president or something."

"Or something. My new stepdad. He has influence." It was all that I wanted to say. I didn't want to brag about Walter.

"He must. He and your mom are going to want some serious alone time."

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"I'm counting on it." Mom and Walter spending more time together would give me more time to myself.

She laughed. "My parents are celebrating their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. I can't believe they've been married for that long. I had to practically beg them to bring me along. I wasn't about to spend time at home when I could be on a cruise meeting loads of single guys."

"So you don't have a boyfriend?"

"We just broke up. He was great in the sack, but out of it he was a total loser. You know what I mean?"

Theoretically I did. But I wasn't going to admit that I'd never had "great in the sack," or anything in the sack for that matter. Some things you didn't share with total strangers.

"Absolutely," I said, hoping she would accept my answer and not prod me for details.

"Why are guys like that?" she asked. "Why can't they bring their bedroom personalities along with them when they get out of bed?"

I shrugged. "I haven't a clue."

And I really didn't. My sole experience with sleeping with a guy had been last night. And it certainly hadn't taught me anything. Except that guys snored.

"Don't you hate the way they hog the bed?"

Ryan hadn't exactly hogged the bed. He'd been snuggled up against me. It had actually been very nice.

Caring. Protective. Comforting.

"I guess that's the reason they invented king-sized beds," I offered.

Not really an answer, Lindsay.

"You've got that right. Still, it's not much fun sleeping alone. I'm going to find someone to take my mind off him. Or someone
ssss
," she said, stressing the plural, and sounding a bit like a snake in the process.

"Good luck," I said.

"Have you got a boyfriend?" she asked.

"Nope."

"So you want to hang out together? Maybe we'll both find someone."

Hanging out with someone who wasn't Ryan had definite advantages. I wouldn't stick out like a lonely sore thumb. "Sure. You bet."

"We'll hit the first island, St. Thomas, tomorrow. I plan to shop until I drop."

The Virgin Islands. It seemed a little ironic to me that I was a virgin heading to the Virgin Islands, hoping that by the time I left the ship my status would be vastly different.

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"They're supposed to have terrific jewelry," I offered.

"That's what I hear. I also hear that most of the singles onboard hang out at Cruisin'. Do you want to go tonight? Scope it out?"

Cruisin' was one of the clubs on the ship that catered to those between seventeen and twenty-four years old. I'd read about it in the brochure, but hadn't had a chance to check it out. "Sure, sounds like fun."

"Cool. There is nothing worse than hanging out at a singles place as a single."

"I thought that was the point."

"No way. You don't want to look desperate." She leaned toward me. "Even if you are."

Did I look desperate? She'd already guessed that this was my first cruise. The next thing I knew she'd be announcing that I was a virgin.

"I'm not—"

"Oh, hunk alert," Brooke interrupted before I could finish announcing that I wasn't desperate. Although in a manner of speaking, I suppose I was.

Smiling broadly she sat up a little straighter on her chair, and shook her chest so it jutted out a little farther. Apparently she wasn't waiting until tonight to reel in her first catch.

I had very little to jut out with. I was practically a plank of wood compared to her. I'd never been self-conscious about not being well-endowed, but sitting here next to Brooke I was beginning to seriously consider the benefits of implants.

I glanced in the direction she was looking, and my breath caught. Ryan was striding toward me, and he didn't look particularly happy.

He plopped down on the end of my lounge chair. His swim trunk–covered thigh was against my bare leg. His shirt was unbuttoned. Between his thumb and forefinger, right in front of my nose, he was dangling one of my earrings.

"Found this in my bed this morning after you left."

Having never been in a situation like this one, I may have overreacted. I snatched it away from him.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

"Well, isn't this an interesting development," Brooke said. "Lindsay, I think you were holding out on me."

Ryan jerked his attention to her. "Who are you?"

"Lindsay's new best bud. And you are…"

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anything between me and Ryan, or that I'd been holding out on her.

"Ryan was the best man at my mother's wedding," I explained.

"If you're going to have a man, you want the best," Brooke said.

Ryan gave her a crooked grin. "That's me. The best."

"I'll just bet," she purred.

Not that I could blame her. Ryan was hot. And she wasn't connected to him through Walter. Besides, it was obvious that he wasn't interested in me. Sure he'd grinned at me a time or two last night, but nothing like the way he was grinning at Brooke right now.

I didn't appreciate their coming on to each other with me sitting right between them…and I was feeling a little left out.

"Thanks for returning my earring," I said, bringing everyone back to Ryan's original reason for stopping by.

"Not a problem."

He grinned, tugged on the brim of my floppy hat, got up, and walked away. Just like that. Gone as abruptly as he'd arrived.

Leaving me even more irritated. Tugging on my hat was something a guy would do to his kid sister—to bug her. And his grin was nothing like the one he gave Brooke. The one he gave her sent signals—

"Come over here, and I'll show you a good time" kind of signals.

"You slept with that hunk?" Brooke demanded to know.

I certainly didn't want to admit that all I'd done was
sleep
with Ryan. Not when Brooke knew all the ins and outs of guys' sleeping habits. So I fudged the truth a little.

"It's really not a big deal. It was just a one-night thing."

"So you're not going to hang out with him anymore?"