Open Seating (16 page)

Following Seth’s suggestion, Bryce sat back and people-watched. The Irish couple they’d met at dinner last night were on their tender, but many benches down, their gray heads drawn together, studying a map. They were dressed in practical walking attire: sturdy shoes, hooded parkas, and lightweight carryalls. Bryce was certain they had their day mapped out to the last detail. Being lost in a strange place with those two would be rather comforting as they appeared to know exactly what they were doing.

They got to the dock, and everyone disembarked, slowly making their way up a steep ramp. There was a wheelchair waiting for Jeannie as she was helped off the tender, one less hurdle she had to deal with. At the top of the ramp was a large parking lot with several tour buses lined up in a row. Each was clearly numbered on the front windshield, so passengers could compare the colorful stickers the tour directors had stuck on their jackets with the corresponding colored number on the bus. This visual aid also served the guides in herding their flock of passengers to their proper ride.

Bryce had never been on a narrated bus tour before. Actually, this part of the world was new to him, so he was all ears as their guide described the countryside and the points of interest along the way. During their stops, he explored older buildings and chapels with a keen eye, fixating on the materials the carpenters of years past had to work with to erect the varied edifices. It amazed him how they managed to build such long-lasting and beautiful structures with the most basic materials. Skilled woodworking was a dying art with the advent of machinery. Why pay triple for a handmade piece when a machine could whip out a banister and spindles far more quickly? Only the very wealthy—or purists—could afford the time and money it took to decorate their homes with custom artisan work. Bryce had a few master carpenters on his roster of subcontractors, and he treated each one like a precious gem. He had no clue what he’d do when they died off. Hopefully, they had kids who were learning by their parent’s side, but somehow Bryce doubted it.

Occasionally he’d turn to Seth, who appeared lost in his thoughts. No doubt he was seeing these ancient relics in a wholly different light, creating scenarios in his head for an upcoming historical romance. If Seth ever asked Bryce to describe the nuts and bolts of a castle or dungeon, he’d be able to help him with his world building by adding accurate descriptions of stone and glasswork.

The tour ended a little past noon, and they were dropped at the pier to catch the tender back to the big ship. Some passengers decided to stay in town to explore on their own and catch lunch at a local tavern, but Bryce and Seth had a scheduled visit at the spa for three o’clock and opted to take lunch on the ship. Neither felt like rushing.

Getting back on board was another tedious business of lining up, boarding a tender, bouncing along on the choppy sea, presenting valid IDs upon reboarding, and turning over shopping bags, backpacks, and purses to be scanned for guns, knives, and bombs. Then they had to walk through metal detectors. If anyone forgot to empty pockets of coins or remove belts with big buckles, they were pulled aside and patted down. It was a sign of the times that passengers found this process reassuring instead of annoying.

They followed a few people to the elevators, and when they realized there would be a wait, Bryce suggested hoofing it.

“Are you up for it?” Bryce asked. “It’s ten flights.”

“If we don’t sprint.”

“We’ll take it nice and easy,” Bryce said. “By the time we get to the Lido Deck, we’ll have worked up a good appetite and burned a few calories in the process.”

Seth gave him a look. “In theory that sounds great, but you know we’ll eat way more than necessary. I’ve heard the lunch buffet is quite good.”

“We’ll soon find out.”

They finally reached their destination, a little winded, and headed to the men’s room to wash their hands before standing in another line for the buffet.

Bryce looked down at his hands, which were pink from scrubbing. “At this rate, my skin will be chapped by the time we go home.”

“Don’t be such a baby,” Seth admonished. “You know what they say about the stomach bug that’s attacked cruise ships in the past. The best defense is cleanliness, and washing your hands before each meal is a must.”

“I guess it’s better than puking,” Bryce said.

“Or worse,” Seth replied knowingly. “Dry skin is a small price to pay for peace of mind. Besides”—he pulled out a handy travel-sized bottle of lotion from his fanny pack—“I have this wonderful product to prevent such a thing.”

Seth unscrewed the cap and poured a small amount into his hand, working the lotion into the crevices that cried out for moisture. “Despite the coconut in the scent, it isn’t overly greasy,” Seth commented. “Stick out your hands.”

Bryce did and watched as Seth poured an equal amount of lotion into his palms. He rubbed it in briskly. “It smells like a piña colada,” Bryce noted. “I think I’ll have one with lunch.”

“That does sound good, doesn’t it?” Seth agreed.

“Yeah. Come on, roomie. Let’s stuff our faces.”

There was a separate station for each food group: salad, cold cuts, bread, soup, daily specials (meat, chicken, or fish), a pasta bar, pizza, and desserts galore. It was a mind-boggling gastronomical delight, and almost everyone loaded up their plates with far more than necessary, eating with their eyes instead of their stomachs. Waste was an ongoing problem on most cruise ships, but the alternative, scaling back on variety, wasn’t an option. There were too many companies competing for a select group of travelers, and one of the major draws of a cruise was food.

“You could feed a small army of homeless people,” Seth said disapprovingly. “Look at the plates still piled with food being whisked away. It’s criminal.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as calling it a crime,” Bryce said. “But it is wasteful. Unfortunately, people on vacation tend to forget the good habits they’ve fostered at home. Overindulging at the buffet tables is equivalent to college kids getting shitfaced on spring break. It’s hard to watch your waist when you get a load of all these goodies.”

Seth eyed Bryce’s plate. “You haven’t gone overboard.”

“There’s no need. If I get hungry later, I can always ask for something.”

Seth nodded in approval. “Our spa appointment isn’t until three. We’ll have over an hour to kill once we’re done eating. Is there anything special you’d like to do?”

“That’s a loaded question,” Bryce said teasingly. “I can think of several things and all of them involve a bed.”

“Bryce,” Seth scolded. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of afternoon delight?”

“I’m not that clueless,” Seth said.

“Would Mark come home for lunch and bend you over your desk?”

Seth looked horrified, and when he spoke, Bryce could tell he was a little freaked by the question. “Even if he did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“Why not? I’m trying to figure you out so I don’t upset you. Some people shy away from having sex in broad daylight, and others love it. Which do you prefer?”

“I noticed you said
have sex
instead of
making love
,” Seth said. “There is a difference you know. I wouldn’t mind making love in the afternoon, but I’d hate to be someone’s booty call in between shifts.”

Bryce laughed. “Point taken.”

Seth grinned. “In this case, I’m open to suggestions.”

“Eat up, man. I don’t want to waste another second.”

They continued their meal in companionable silence until Bryce noticed their favorite cougar and her boy toy across the room. Matt didn’t look quite so polished this afternoon; in fact, he looked rather beleaguered. Glynis was saying something to him, and her body language was quite combative.

“Don’t look now, but your favorite stalker and his handler seem a little out of sorts.”

“Oh?” Seth replied. “And here I thought they were the perfect couple. So in tune with each other’s plotting.”

“She’s probably got the dough, and he’s at her beck and call. Working hard for his money, as they say. Christ, I’d rather panhandle in Grant Park than be a kept man.”

“I’ve never understood that mentality,” Seth agreed. “Surely, there’s an easier way to make a living than sleeping with someone you don’t care for. Ugh. The thought alone makes me queasy.”

“Have you never done anything remotely close?”

“Sell myself?” Seth asked, looking and sounding insulted.

“I didn’t mean a cash transaction, but giving head to get ahead isn’t that unusual.”

“Maybe in your world but certainly not in mine.”

Bryce didn’t reply.

“What?” Seth asked. “Do you disagree?”

“I don’t know the first thing about the business of writing to agree or disagree. It was a rhetorical question.”

“I can assure you that bestselling authors don’t sleep with critics to get good reviews.”

“But what if you sent someone choice tickets to a Blackhawks game. Wouldn’t that little extra attention merit a bump in book ratings?”

“I guess,” Seth said thoughtfully. “But that’s usually the job of your agent or publicist. Most writers stay away from the seedy side of the business.”

“So it does happen.”

“I don’t know,” Seth said. “When I first started writing, having a partner who paid the bills so I didn’t have to work a day job was a big help. It gave me the freedom to write what inspired me rather than tailor my work to suit the masses. At the end of the day, I suppose a writer who stoops to that level is selling pieces of his soul. I can honestly say I’ve never written anything for financial gain.”

“Because you were married,” Bryce pointed out. “What if you were single all along? Don’t you think at some point you’d have to do something that went against your principles to survive?”

Seth shrugged. “Who knows? Thankfully I had Mark, and I happened to pick the romance genre, which usually sells.”

“And that’s another topic altogether,” Bryce said. “I believe marriage is a form of prostitution. Exchanging services to gain a better life.”

“My God,” Seth said. “I didn’t realize you were so disillusioned. Who hurt you, Bryce?”

Bryce stared at Seth, sorry he’d even mentioned it. Now the guy would pester him endlessly until he spewed out his truth. Well, he wasn’t in the mood. Maybe by the end of the cruise, when their comfort level was at its highest, but not just yet.

Eager to change the subject, Bryce asked, “Are you ready to go?”

“We’re not done with the conversation,” Seth protested.

“To be continued.” Bryce stood to go.

“Three words I detest.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to deal with them today.”

“As long as you promise to finish this story,” Seth pushed.

“We’ll see.”

It was ten after two when they got to their cabin. The room had been made up while they were out, and fresh towels replaced the ones they’d used earlier.

“We need to unpack.”

“Now?” Bryce asked.

“Why not?”

Bryce sat on the edge of the bed and reached for Seth palm up. “I thought we were going to explore the merits of daylight
lovemaking
.”

Seth flushed, looking at Bryce with something akin to gratitude. “You’re a fast learner.”

“I’m not as dumb as I look.”

“I never said you were,” Seth replied gently. “You’re a fine-looking man, Mr. McFarland.”

“Would you like to see all of me?”

“Yes.” Seth stepped closer. He wrapped his arms around Bryce’s neck and straddled him. “But first, let’s start with kissing to set the mood.”

“You like that, huh?”

“It’s more intimate than anything else,” Seth confided. “I like it a lot.”

Bryce put his hand behind Seth’s neck and drew him down toward his mouth. Their lips met, and Seth let out a soft sigh. Within seconds, the kiss morphed from soft and tender to scorching and needy. Teeth collided and tongues tangled in a desperate burst of passion. Pulling away after a few minutes, Seth got off Bryce’s lap and knelt down in front of him, pawing at his belt and zipper.

“Help me,” Seth said, sounding desperate.

Bryce didn’t wait for a second request. He pushed his pants and briefs down, while Seth stared at his rising cock like a starving man eyeing a steak.

Seth wrapped his fingers around the base and got down to business, engulfing Bryce in his warm mouth.

“God, that feels good,” Bryce said, watching the bobbing blond head.

Seth continued to service Bryce with a level of expertise he wasn’t expecting from the prudish man. In the last twenty-four hours, he’d had to reevaluate his opinion of Seth and Mark’s love life. There was something virginal about Seth that belied twenty years of marriage, and Bryce couldn’t wait to explore and break down barriers that seemed to be weighing Seth down in the sack.

Opening wider, Seth took him in deeper and swallowed around Bryce’s cock, pulling a loud and heartfelt moan of pleasure out of him that must have gone straight to Seth’s groin, because he stepped up his rhythm and sucked him so hard his cheeks caved in. Bryce refused to take his eyes off the beautiful sight, and even when he unloaded, he continued to watch as Seth swallowed convulsively while tugging on himself. It was the hottest thing Bryce had seen in a while, and he thanked whoever was in charge of the universe for this lucky intermission in his otherwise ordinary life. A week ago he was standing at a construction site, wearing a hardhat and doing the same thing he’d been doing almost every day for the last umpteen thousand years. Now he was living a fantasy, thanks to this man at his feet, and loving every second. It didn’t matter that it would end the minute they got back home; what was important was the here and now.

THEY BARELY
had enough time to clean up, unpack, and put their clothes away before dashing out the door to make their spa appointment. Always a stickler for punctuality, Seth liked to plan his day to make sure he completed all his tasks in a timely fashion. His editor appreciated this side of his personality, especially when they were trying to make a publishing deadline, and Mark, on the rare occasions he asked Seth to do an errand, knew his requests would be completed before he got home. Now, Seth found himself off his game, rooming with a man who was spontaneous and easily persuaded to ditch a plan in favor of something new and more interesting.