Page 19 of As You Crave It

“I didn’t say blow off work completely,” he amended. “All right, but now that bad influence is in the kitchen making dinner wearing only the shirt I had on earlier today.”

“You lucky bastard,” he teased. He loved Lila and was happy for the positive effect she’d had on his formerly workaholic brother.

“Don’t I know it. I’m going to hang up now.”

“Sure. Tell Lila ‘hi’ for me.”

“Will do.”

Quin disconnected the call. Maybe he would follow up on his brother’s advice. A sexy woman on a beach. Again, his thoughts turned to Celia. And for the first time today, he allowed himself to think about what had happened between them. She might have regretted it, but there was no way he did. Hell, he wondered where they would be if he’d taken her up on her offer eight years ago.

But he had to get the woman off his mind in order to complete the business transaction he was there to do. He would take the three days step-by-step to get through it. And step one was to get ready for dinner. To start, a shower. He went into the bathroom and opened the cabinet over the sink. His toiletries had been put away and he saw that the stewards who’d unpacked his bag had put the condoms he’d brought in a discreet location. He didn’t think he would use them—after all, this trip wasn’t about sex—but after last night on the beach with Celia, he’d never be caught unprepared again.

Quin turned on the shower and stripped off his clothes. Under the hot spray of the water, he felt the sheen of sweat and grime and recycled air from the plane rinse from his body. He soaped up, and with Celia still on his mind, all of his blood headed south. Reasoning that it was as good of a time as any to take care of that bit of business, he took himself in hand, wrapping his fingers tightly around his shaft, stroking himself, imagining that Celia was on her knees, in front of him, his dick in her mouth. His movements became quicker, more frantic, as the pleasure built. A few more strokes and he was over the edge, coming against the shower wall. As he cleaned up the mess, he realized that his hand was no substitute for the actual woman in his dreams. He thought about her still in Miami. He wanted her and he sighed out loud.

It was going to be a long three days.

In her quarters aboard the If This Boat’s Rockin’... Celia rolled her eyes at the ship’s trashy name and changed into a floral sundress. She’d stayed in her quarters for as long as possible, but now the yacht had left the dock and her presence was requested at dinner. She still had no idea why she was told to join him and his guests on the yacht, but she didn’t like it. It was hard enough to work for the man Monday to Friday, let alone being trapped on the open water with the world’s creepiest dude. Celia reached into her purse and took out the small digital recorder she’d brought with her in the hopes of catching Jared being inappropriate. If she had to spend three days with the monster, she might as well make it worth it.

Her door opened, and she dropped the running recorder on the floor near her bed. When Jared walked into her room, she quietly kicked it under the bed to conceal it.

“Don’t you knock?” she asked.

“This is my boat, everything that happens on board is my business, and that means I don’t have to knock.” He looked her up and down and her skin crawled. “Celia, you look hot.”

“That’s completely inappropriate,” she told him, crossing her arms over her chest, putting a barrier between her body and his lecherous gaze.

“You should appreciate it now. In ten years, you’ll want people to tell you how sexy you are. But by then it’ll be too late.” She grimaced. There was no way that at any age, she would be looking for any sort of compliment from Jared, or anyone like him. He leaned in close, and his eyes were transfixed on her breasts. “You know, why don’t we close the door and have a little bit of fun?”

She had to control the retching in her stomach. She backed away, hoping he’d identify and respect the body language cue she was giving him. “Isn’t it soon time for dinner?”

He stopped. “I could be convinced to skip it.”

“I won’t. I’m starving.”

“You come to my master quarters tonight.” He laughed. “You’re one of my newest employees, but you’ll learn that I’m not too burdened by propriety.”

She’d learned that all too well. She wanted him out of her room, and out of her life, but needed to keep him talking. “Why am I here? Why did you insist I join you on your yacht?”

He shrugged. “You’re gorgeous, and I figured we’d have a little fun away from the office. Consider it a reward for all of your hard work.”

Celia hoped like hell that the recorder was catching everything he said, but she imagined that there would be ample time for Jared to implicate himself in the next three days, if she could stomach it. “Like you’re ever in the office, Jared,” she muttered. “But either way, I’d appreciate it if you knocked before entering my room. In fact, I insist on it.”

Jared rolled his eyes. “Babe, I don’t imagine you’ll be spending much time alone in this room.”

“What are you implying? I work for you.”

His laugh was cocky. “Maybe if you come by later, we can talk about a promotion. You could rise the ranks at Seacoast Prestige pretty quickly.”

Before she could respond—what would she say besides telling him to go fuck himself?—there was the noticeable sound of footsteps in the hall; some of the other guests were in the hallway, most likely heading up to the sky deck, where dinner would be served. With a potential audience just feet away, Jared straightened his posture and smiled warmly, turning away to go out the door. “We’ll be having dinner soon. I’d like to see you there promptly.”

If Jared didn’t get away from her, he seriously risked bodily harm. But she would be an easier target for his harassment if she appeared diminutive... If he touched her, however, he would live to regret it. She could barely suppress the shudder that rolled throughout her body, and she had to remind herself it was all about gathering evidence against Jared. That was what pushed her to continue instead of hurling herself overboard just to get away from him. The next three days would be a balancing act for sure. She would have to simultaneously protect herself, focus on the task at hand and make sure she didn’t run off the boat at the next port. She had to stop herself from sneering at him, but instead she pasted a wide smile on her face, not caring if he thought it looked fake or not. “Sure, Mr. Foster. I’ll be right up.”

A few minutes later, Celia had composed herself, and had her recording device safely secured with a small piece of fashion tape, under her dress, as she walked up the stairs to the sky deck. Just to be safe, she’d also slipped a small wine opener with a corkscrew and knife into the pocket of her sundress—that item, she’d thought about leaving in her cabin, but a girl couldn’t be too careful when entering a den of wolves. So instead, she’d armed herself as if she was walking through a dark parking garage in the bad part of town at 3:00 a.m., instead of a dinner on a warm night on a seventy-million-dollar mega-yacht. She would have preferred the parking garage.

The voices of Jared’s guests were boisterous, loud and lubricated by rounds of wine and spirits, and she mentally prepared herself to be annoyed by everything they said. Hell, if they were all as disgusting and predatory as Jared, maybe she could kill several birds with one stone and take down all these sons of bitches.

She walked out onto the deck and saw that in addition to Jared, there were four men and another woman seated around the table. She recognized one of them as Jared’s number two at the company and his wife, and she’d learned that the others were important shareholders. The last man sat with his back to her, but when he said something to the group she stopped at his familiar voice. She’d heard that voice earlier that day. She knew his laugh, intimately knew the erotic low sound he made when he came. She’d heard that voice in her house, after they’d agreed to be friends.

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