Separate Cabins

By the time Gard had mixed her drink, other guests had begun to arrive for the private cocktail party. It wasn’t long before the large sitting room was crowded wall-to-wall with people. The captain stopped in for a few minutes, entertaining Rachel and some of the other guests with his dry British wit.

It seemed the party had barely started when it was interrupted with the announcement that dinner was being served in the Coral Dining Room. There was an unhurried drifting of guests out of the suite. Rachel would have joined the general exodus, but she had been cornered by Hank Scarborough and found herself listening to a long, detailed account of his life at sea.

The last guest had left before Gard came to her rescue. “You’ve monopolized her long enough, Hank,” he said and casually curved an arm around her waist to draw her away. “I’m taking the lady to dinner.”

“I suppose you must,” Hank declared with a mock sigh of regret. “I’ll have the steward come in and clean up this mess. The two of you run along.”

Rachel became suspicious of the glance they exchanged. As Gard walked her out to the elevators she eyed him with a speculating look.

“You arranged it with Hank to keep me detained so you could take me down to dinner, didn’t you?” she accused with a knowing look.

His mouth was pulled in a mockingly grim line. “I’ll have to have a talk with Hank. He wasn’t supposed to be so obvious about it,” Gard replied, virtually admitting that had been his ploy.

She laughed softly, not really minding that it had all been set up. The elevator doors opened noiselessly and Rachel stepped into the cubicle ahead of Gard.

Dinner was followed by a Parisian show at the Carousel Lounge and, later, dancing. All of which Rachel enjoyed in Gard’s company. A midnight buffet snack was being served in the aft portion of the Riviera Deck. Gard tried to tempt her into sampling some of the cakes and sweets, but she resisted.

“No.” She avoided the buffet table and kept an unswerving course to the stairs. “It’s time to call it a night,” she insisted, tired yet feeling a pleasant glow that accompanied a most enjoyable evening.

“Would you like to take a stroll around the deck before turning in?” Gard asked as they climbed the stairs, stopping at the Promenade Deck, where her cabin was located.

“No, not tonight,” Rachel refused with visions of last night’s embrace on the outer deck dancing in her head.

When they reached the door to her cabin, Rachel turned and leaned a shoulder against it to bid him good night. Gard leaned a forearm against the door by her head, bending slightly toward her and closing the distance between them. She tipped her head back in quiet languor and let it rest against the solid door while she gazed at him. There was a pleasant tingle of sensation as his glance drifted to her lips.

“You could always invite me in and ring the steward for some coffee,” he murmured the suggestion.

“I could.” Her reply was pitched in an equally soft voice as she began to study the smooth line of his mouth, so strong and warm. Rachel knew the wayward direction her thoughts were taking, but she had no desire to check them from their forbidden path.

“Well?” Gard prompted lazily.

Regardless of what she was thinking, she said, “I could, but I’m not going to ask you to come inside.”

His rueful smile seemed to indicate that her decision was not at all unexpected. “Maybe you’re right. That single bed would be awfully tight quarters.”

A little shiver of excitement raced over her skin at such an open admission of his intention. When his head began a downward movement, blood surged into her heart, swelling it until it seemed to fill her whole chest. Her lips lifted to eliminate the last inch that separated her from his mouth.

The hard, male length of him was against her, pinning her body to the door with his pressing weight. His hand lay familiarly on her hip bone while his kiss probed the dark recesses of her mouth with evocative skill. Beneath her hands she could feel the warmth of his skin through the silk dress shirt. Some sensitive inner radar picked up the increased rate of his breathing.

The tangling intimacy of the deep kiss aroused an insistent hunger that made her ache inside. Rachel strained to satisfy this trembling need by responding more fiercely to his kiss. But a much more intimate union was required before the aching throb of her flesh could know gratification.

She sensed his shared frustration as Gard abandoned his ravishment of her lips and trained his rough kisses on the hollow behind her ear and the ultrasensitive cord in her neck. She gritted her teeth to hold silent the moan that rose in her throat. It came out in a shuddering sigh.

His hand moved up her waist and cupped the underswell of her breast in the span of his thumb and fingers. The thrilling touch seemed to fill her with an explosive desire. The deep breath she took merely caused her breasts to lift and press more fully into his caress.

There was a labored edge to his breathing when his mouth halted near her ear. “Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind about that coffee?” Gard asked on a groaning underbreath.

Inside she was trembling badly—wanting just that. But she was afraid she wanted it too badly. It was the desires of the flesh that were threatening to rule her. She’d sooner listen to her heart or her head than something so base.

“No,” Rachel answered with a little gulp of air and finally let her closed lashes open. “No coffee.” Her hands exerted a slight pressure to end the embrace.

There was an instant when Gard stiffened to keep her pinned to the door. His dark eyes smoldered with sensual promise while he warred with his indecision—whether to believe her words or the unmistakable signals he received from her body. Rachel watched him; slowly he eased himself away, his jawline hardening with grim reluctance.

“You make things hard for a man,” he muttered in faint accusation.

“I know,” she admitted guiltily. “I—”

He put his fingers to her mouth, silencing her next words. “For God’s sake, don’t say you’re sorry.” His fingers traced over the softness of her lips, then moved off at a corner and came under her chin, rubbing the point of it with his knuckles.