Going Overboard (29 page)

“I don't have to. I'm not marrying him.” He lifted the lace from her fingers. “How did it fit?”

“Let's just say we might need to keep fire extinguishers handy,” she purred.

“In that case, this one is my gift.”

“But—”

“Don't even think about arguing,” he said gruffly. “I'm going to enjoy seeing you wear this almost as much as I'm going to enjoy taking it off you.”

“Is that a promise, McKay?”

“Count on it.”

C
arly was nearing a sensory overload when she reached the door to her cabin. She dropped her shopping bags and dug out her room key. “Same procedure as before, I take it?”

Ford held his finger to his mouth, waited for two passengers to move past, then nodded. He inserted the door key and scanned the room from beside the door, then circled to check the rest of the cabin, moving like the cops she'd seen on TV

To her shock, Carly was getting used to the procedure.

She frowned as McKay glanced at his watch. “Going somewhere already?”

“Speaking for myself, the two major food groups sound appealing.”

Carly raised one eyebrow.

“Steak rare and whiskey neat,” he explained.

“Oh, those food groups.”

“Only ones that count. Why don't I come back in ten minutes?”

Carly laughed. “Getting ready for tonight is going to take me at least an hour.” She waved her bags with a flourish. “I have to do my hair, try on a few purchases, then linger in a hedonistic bath.”

“I could help you with the hedonistic part.”

“Get lost, McKay Getting gorgeous is serious work.” She pulled a lace camisole out of one bag and let it slide

through her fingers, capturing his complete attention. “Especially since Daphne will be sleek, polished, and loaded down with diamonds.”

“You'll look better.”

“Have you had your eyes tested lately? She was a cover model, in case you hadn't noticed.”

“I noticed. Daphne's nice, but her smile isn't in the same league with yours.” His gaze roamed over Carly's body. “And I can personally testify that you have the most amazingly beautiful pair of—” He broke off, exploring one of her bags.

She yanked it away. “Go on.”

“Eyes. And a few other things.”

“Very smooth, McKay.”

“Trust me, all my smooth moves will come later.”

Carly knew that if she didn't show some control, they'd never get to dinner. She wasn't about to be rushed with a night of glamour and seduction before her. She meant to stretch out the pleasure and make McKay sweat just a little.

Maybe more than a little.

Meanwhile, one thing continued to bother her. “What did you really think of Daphne's fiancé?”

“That he knows what he wants and exactly how to get it.”

“You really don't like him.”

“He's not my type. Whether he's Daphne type is the question.”

“Before this she was always involved with creative types. Painters, musicians, and poets. David is so …”

“Rich?”

“Not just that. He's so
competent.
In a few minutes he seems to take over a room, and yet… sometimes he seems to try too hard. Of course, he probably wants to make a good impression on Daphne's friends.”

A good impression and then some
, McKay thought. Why would an international banker and jet-setter try so hard? Either the man had a deep need to prove himself or
he was trying to cover something up. McKay still hadn't figured out which.

“I don't care if he's rich or not. I simply want Daphne to be happy.” Carly glanced at the clock and gasped. “Go. I'll never be ready on time.”

“Just tap on the connecting door. No need to worry if you're not completely dressed. I'll be delighted to help out with stockings, straps, or lingerie problems.” He gazed appreciatively at the tangle of lace and silk on Carly's bed. “Scout's honor.”

With a low laugh, Carly nudged him outside. “There are no merit badges for what you're thinking about, McKay.”

Izzy was waiting when McKay unlocked his cabin, and he looked glad to be working indoors again.

“I take it you checked everything here? No bugs or unwanted electronics?”

“I was just finishing up when you arrived. No sweat, the place is squeaky clean. Carly's quarters, too.” Izzy scratched at his shoulder. “At least there aren't any flying nasties to deal with here. I'd forgotten how much I hated field work.” Izzy paced the room slowly. “It appears that Vronski is putting extra men on that new yacht of his. He could be planning to make his move.”

“Or he might simply be enjoying the glorious Caribbean sun,” McKay countered.

“He left Brandon hanging on the investment project, and now Brandon's enemies are sniping that he doesn't have the clout to close a major deal like this.”

“I knew there was a reason I hated politics,” McKay said. “Any intel on Vronski's hidden agenda?”

“Nothing certain. I'll pass through any information as soon as it's available. I've got full electronics set up in my cabin, so I'm I touch with D.C. twenty-four/seven. Just remember, you may not have the luxury of choosing when it's time to pull out.”

“Tell me something I don't already know.” McKay looked down at the shopping bag he'd tossed on the bed a gift from Carly. “It wasn't supposed to happen this way dammit. None of this was supposed to get personal.”

Izzy whistled as a pair of men's paisley satin pajamas spilled out of the bag's colorful tissue paper.

“Don't say a word.” McKay scowled. “Not a single word.”

Izzy gave a mock salute. “Aye, aye, sir. Maintaining radio silence.”

At six-twenty, the black marble bar in the Crystal Club was packed. The only danger appeared to be the deafening music from the dance floor, along with the glares of Carly's former model and his girlfriend who were drinking steadily at a nearby table.

Since their cruise was already paid for, they appeared to be determined to enjoy its full benefits, despite their failed campaign against Carly. McKay planned to keep an eye on the pair. His resolution was reinforced when he saw the girlfriend aim a furious glance at Carly's back.

And what a back it was.

Her gown was simplicity itself, smooth silver fabric that clung to every curve. The back dipped several inches below her waist and swayed with every step she took.

McKay wasn't sure he'd make it through the evening.

As Carly sipped an exotic concoction with lime wedges and a paper umbrella, he worked on a Dos Equis, which was his quota for the night.

Leaning back against the bar, he allowed himself a long, thorough look at her. “That's quite a dress. You can't be wearing too much underneath, given that back and neckline.”

Carly's smile was glittering.

“What
are
you wearing underneath?”

“Chanel No. 5, here and there.”

McKay was sorry he had asked.

“No sign of Daphne.” Carly surveyed the crowded dance floor. “She's usually so punctual.”

“Maybe the waltz lessons ran over,” he said dryly. He wasn't particularly worried since he'd excused himself, called Izzy, and verified that the lovebirds were still in their cabin, safe and sound. Meanwhile, Izzy was staying close to them and had observed the two security people Daphne's father had placed in the rooms adjoining Daphne's.

“Is something wrong?”

“Not a thing. Dance with me and I'll prove it.”

Halfway to the dance floor, they found their way blocked by Griffin Kelly. Red-faced and furious, his girlfriend confronted Carly. “You think you know everything, but you wouldn't recognize a good photo angle if you tripped on it.” She swayed as she spoke, sloshing liquor from her glass over the nearby table. “But it's not over yet, understand?”

McKay was ready to intervene, but Carly was smiling, so he knew she wanted to handle this herself.

“Let Griffin do his own dirty work next time, Aimee. Now if you'll excuse us, I believe our dance is beginning.” Carly put her hand on McKay's arm and they started toward the dance floor.

“I'm not finished with you yet. We've got business to discuss.” The woman tottered toward Carly.

“I think we're finished.”

“No way. I'm going to give you a piece of my mind.” Her breath had to be a hundred proof, McKay noted.

Enraged, Aimee gripped her drink. “I'm talking lawyers. I'm talking court orders. I'm talking lit… liti—”

“Litigation?” McKay suggested.

She paid no attention to him. “Neither you nor your sleazy, overpaid boy-toy can stop us.”

“I take exception to being called overpaid,” McKay said under his breath.

Carly chuckled. “Point noted.”

“You've been warned,” the inebriated girlfriend continued. “Both of you.” She staggered into McKay, righted herself, then lurched away on stiletto heels.

Carly took a deep breath, her hands trembling.

“You okay?”

“Fine. I'm not letting a no-talent shark in five-inch heels ruin my evening.”

“Good for you,” McKay said guiding her onto the dance floor and pulling her into his arms. “Let's get back to the part where you tell me what's under your dress. Or what's
not
.” He twirled her expertly, then eased her into a low dip.

“You aren't kidding. You really can dance.”

As she eased in close, he had to force himself to concentrate on the dance rhythm. “Will Aimee be a problem for you?”

“Not really.” Carly sighed. “Only a nuisance. Griffin took his best shot and lost. The rest is pure bluster. She knows she hasn't got a leg to stand on.”

“Literally. They'll carry her away dead drunk any minute.” He pulled her closer. “Now about your dress.”

“Curious?”

“Every time I look at it, I think about that one silver clasp at the waist and how easy it would be to open. Of course, then the whole dress would slide off. Actually, my imagination is getting downright painful.”

Carly patted his cheek. “That's the general idea.”

McKay cleared his throat. “Let's eat.” At least eating would occupy his hands and keep him from tearing off her dress.

Carly glanced around the bar area. “Since Daphne isn't here, we might as well go.”

“I planned for us to—”

She covered his mouth with one finger. “Surprise me.” He started to speak, but she shook her head. “Don't argue, McKay. Tonight I win all arguments. Surprise me

first, then find me a patch of moonlight and waltz with me. What we do after that is up to you.”

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he said huskily as they left the pulsing music of the bar for a quiet corridor lit by mock gaslight. “In a minute I won't be able to walk.”

She guided his hands to her breasts. “This is what you do to me.” Through the sheer silk of her dress he felt the press of her nipples against his palms.

Need hit him like a gut punch. “You say that, then expect me to walk you into a crowded restaurant and eat a meal?”

“Absolutely.” Her lips were a soft curve in the flickering light. “We're both going to enjoy the suspense, even when it's killing us. And we have so little time left before—”

She looked away, shaking her head.

McKay understood why she had cut off any reference to the future. It was smart of her, careful of her, but suddenly he wished they weren't so smart and life wasn't so damned complicated.

He enjoyed her look of surprise when they stopped outside an intimate restaurant decorated like a Russian hunting lodge. Samovars gleamed on lacquered tables, and strolling musicians in flowing white peasant shirts sang passionately to the hum of balalaikas. Izzy had suggested the restaurant, and judging by Carly's dreamy smile it was the perfect choice.

Their conversation was laced with laughter as their legs brushed their hands lingered. Tension hummed nearly feverish by the time their dinner was finished. He had arranged for the maître d' to present her with a single perfect rose the color of finest Baltic amber at the end of the meal, and she held it now, turning the soft petals against her cheek.

“How are you going to top this?”

“Wait and see.” They made their way to the empty, windswept deck, fingers linked bodies expectant. The

wind ruffled Carly's hair into a soft cloud at her shoulders as he offered her the sleek leather box he'd carried in his pocket since the afternoon.

The single strand of antique gold coins and graduated amber beads left her speechless for long minutes. “You saw me coveting this today, didn't you?”

“You've got no secrets, I warn you.”

“I don't want any secrets from you. Maybe that's why I'm feeling reckless tonight, as if the whole world is mine.” She angled her head and bit his jaw gently. “What are you thinking? Now, right now.”

His eyes were hard with shadows. “How many seconds it will take to get from here to your cabin. And then to the bed.”

“Too fast, McKay. I haven't made you sweat yet.”

“You like making me suffer, don't you?”

“Making us both suffer,” she corrected turning in his arms and sliding her hands beneath his jacket, then lower, where she found hard proof of his arousal.

He tried to keep his breathing steady as her fingers moved with wicked skill. “I'm almost afraid to ask what you're thinking.”