The dress was strapless and fitted, with a tie cinching up the waist and a narrow skirt delineating her hips before falling softly to just above her knees.
Most of the women had gone with island styles, the men sticking with casual slacks and open-collar shirts. Alex had gone with tan and buff, not being a fan of wearing palm fronds across his chest.
From the shine of her soft hair to the tips of her painted toenails, Emma looked like an island goddess.
“Are you drunk?” he asked. That might account for her relaxed mood.
She eased away from the wall, moving sinuously toward him, stopping to walk her fingertips up his chest and grasp the small lapels of his shirtfront. She shook her hair and gazed slumberously up into his eyes. “I’m acting, Alex. I thought that was what you were paying me for.”
He leaned down ever so slightly. “Well, you’re very, very good.”
She smiled.
“Almost too good.”
Her expression faltered. “What’s that supposed to-”
The door glided open to some new passengers, and he slipped his arm around her narrow waist. “Let’s dance.”
Without waiting for a response, he drew her into his arms, and they joined dozens of other couples under the stars, swaying to the calypso beat.
Her movements matched his, stiff at first, but then she found his rhythm. He snuggled her closer, pressing her hips to his thighs. She was just the right size, just the right shape, just the right height to be a perfect partner.
His thoughts turned to movements of a sexual nature, speculating on how perfect things could be between them. Of course, he was only talking about sex, not about life. Life with Emma was going to be a challenge from the minute he got up in the morning to the minute he went to bed at night.
Alone.
Because their marriage wasn’t about intimacy. It was about convenience. And for the first time, Alex wondered if Mrs. Nash might be right. He didn’t really like the thought of a cold, lonely death.
Nor did he like the thought of a cold, lonely bed. In fact, he didn’t like the thought of a bed with anyone in it but Emma at the moment.
Which was impossible, in so many ways.
But she was in his arms now.
He closed his eyes and gathered her to him, tipping his head to the crook of her neck, inhaling her scented skin and letting the smooth, warmed gems of her necklace rub against his cheek. A camera flash penetrated his lids. And even though it was what he wanted, he resented the intrusion.
He danced Emma to a quieter corner of the ship’s deck, where the lights were dim and the music was muted by wind baffles.
She tilted back her head and stared at the panorama of stars above them. “A romantic tryst for the press?”
“Something like that.” He focused on the smooth skin, delicate neck.
She thought they were playacting? What the hell?
He leaned down and feathered a kiss on her collarbone, just below his necklace.
He heard her quick intake of breath, so he tried another one, this time on her shoulders, working his way slowly backward, then up toward the lobe of her ear, which he drew gently into his mouth.
Her fingers dug into his, and he splayed his hand wide on the small of her back, bringing her tight against him as his mouth sought hers.
Their bodies knew each other’s this time. There was no fumbling, not the slightest hesitation. Their lips met full on. Their mouths opened. And their tongues parried in a way that sent sparks shooting straight to Alex’s groin.
This was a bad idea.
No. This was a great idea. What it was, was a bad location for a great idea.
They were screened from the crowd at the moment, but that could change. All it would take is one rogue reporter or one straying couple, and they’d be caught in a compromising position.
Not that he’d compromised her yet.
He was only kissing her.
But judging by her quiet moans, and the way his hand was inching down her bottom, it was only a matter of minutes.
He dragged himself back.
She blinked in confusion, her lips red and swollen, her eyes clouded with passion.
“I want to show you something,” he whispered.
He led her past the deck chairs, through an air-lock door, up a small staircase to the Empress Deck and the door to a vista suite. There he inserted the card key.
“What’s this?” she asked.
He opened the narrow door. “The captain thought we might like to freshen up.”
Emma walked inside, glancing around at the dining table, the sofa cluster and wet bar. “But there are no reporters in here.” She looked back at Alex in confusion.
Had she really been acting the whole time?
He couldn’t believe it.
“The veranda,” he quickly improvised. “It overlooks the party.”
He crossed the spacious room and pressed a button to pull back the drapes. He’d back off from the seduction plan. Really, nothing ventured nothing gained.
The drapes slid out of the way to reveal a huge, wraparound veranda with views of the portside pool, the ocean and the New York skyline.
He opened the two French doors, letting in the night air and calypso music and party laughter. “Nothing like a clandestine telephoto lens shot to convince people we’re in love.”
Emma peered through the doorway at the crowds dancing one deck below. “You’re frighteningly conniving, you know that?”
He reached for her hand, muttering under his breath. “You don’t know the half of it.” Then louder. “Shall we get cozy on the double lounger?”
She stepped outside on her strappy sandals, her dress billowing gently around shapely legs. “Why not. You think they’d bring us up one of those pineapple drinks?”
“You got it,” said Alex, picking up the phone to push the button for the butler.
Emma felt much safer out on the veranda than inside the suite with Alex. She’d thought, planned,
When she thought about it though, it made perfect sense. A newly engaged couple wouldn’t stay in the thick of the party all night long. They’d steal away for a kiss or two in private. Letting the press spot them on the suite’s veranda was inspired.
She sat down on the thick padding of the double lounger and kicked off the tight high heels she’d borrowed from Katie. The dress was Katie’s, too. While Emma was well outfitted for business events, she’d never built up her party and vacation wardrobe. Luckily, she and Katie were the same size.
Alex set a tall, frosted glass on the mini table beside her. “One frozen Wiki Waki.”
“You made that up.”
He held up a hand. “Swear it’s true. That’s what they’re serving at the party.”
The frost slipped against Emma’s fingers as she lifted the glass and stirred the mixture with the straw. It was crisp and tangy on her tongue, and the blend of liquors definitely left an afterglow.
The cushion shifted as Alex sat down.
“What have you got?” she asked.
“Glenroddich on the rocks.”
“Wrong hemisphere.”
He leaned back and closed his eyes. “That’s as exotic as I get.”
She smirked, wiggling her bare toes in the cool ocean breeze. “I knew you’d be a dud as soon as I saw the
