Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (4 page)

He smiled. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

“No problem. Gotta maintain that cosmic balance.” He grinned and headed toward the bar.

I watched him go. “I wonder if life ever does balance like that, like the neat figures on a general ledger.”

Evan’s eyes sparkled. “Business degree, and I’m assuming it’s in finance?”

I flushed in embarrassment. “When I arrived at college I had this thought that I’d reinvent myself. You know, become an art major, or a poet, or something wild and exciting. But when I met with my counselor, they looked at my high school transcript and said it made the most sense for me to enroll in the accounting program. They said I’d do well at it.”

He raised an eyebrow. “And did you?”

I nodded. “Sure. Got great grades and earned my degree. I have a solid job in Boston now. Good benefits. 401K.”

I sighed. “But it’s all about money. As if those dollars and cents are what matters in life. But they don’t. They’re a way of quantifying something that is hollow. I had money, and I was miserable. Kayla has just enough to get by, and she has an absolute blast. It’s about how content you are with what you have, not about the piles of random stuff you can strive to acquire.”

Evan quieted, his gaze on me. “You’re absolutely right.”

My shoulders slumped. “And it was more than that. I was driven into a field I disliked, like a cow being pushed into that high metal chute at the slaughterhouse. It’s like, despite everything I tried, I still never got free from my parents. All those decisions they made for me in high school are still controlling me. Still making me miserable.” My voice dropped. “I’m trapped.”

Evan shook his head. “You control what action you take, every moment of the day. What is in the past can’t be changed. You can only choose what you do in the moment. If you want your life to be different, pay attention to those choices.”

A rough voice called out from the gazebo. “Evan? We’re ready to go.”

Evan looked around and nodded to the drummer. He squeezed my hand for a moment. “You’re a special person, … ummm … ” He paused, and his eyebrow raised quizzically.

I blinked. “Oh! I’m Amanda. I guess we never really formally met.”

He smiled, putting out a hand. “I forgot to bring my calling card.”

I blushed and took his hand. It was sturdy, warm, and I could just imagine it catching a long pass, tucking the ball in against that rippled chest of his, and blasting hard through a wall of burly defenders.

The words popped out of my mouth before I could rein them in. “Do you play rugby?”

His eyes sparked with surprise. “I do indeed.” He glanced up at the sports deck. “But not on this tub, I’m afraid. Back in Boston, I’m on a team. Just a bunch of the lads roughhousing.”

I wondered if I’d seen him in one of the open fields during one of my walks around the city. I wondered if I’d passed by him, never knowing what lay within that well-muscled body and handsome face.

He brushed his lips against my fingers, and a shimmer of emotion sank deep within me.

“We go on tonight at nine – maybe you’ll come join us?”

I smiled, warmth settling into every region of my body. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

The drummer’s voice was sharper. “Evan!”

Evan held my gaze for a moment longer, then turned, and he was gone. I felt his absence like a hollow in my heart, an ache which delved into my very core.

Chapter 4

My heart thundered against my ribs as I stood at the entryway to the club. Dinner had been fantastic – filet mignon with béarnaise sauce and asparagus – but I’d barely tasted a bite. Every thought was on tonight, on counting the minutes until I could see Evan again.

I looked down myself for the hundredth time. It was the best dress I’d brought. Crimson, sparkling, ending mid-thigh and with a deep cleavage. I wasn’t as moose-stoppingly busty as Kayla, but my body was toned, sleek, and I hoped Evan would approve. He was so searingly handsome that he could have any woman on this ship. For some reason he was choosing to talk to me. The thought of seeing him with someone else sent sharp daggers through my chest.

I took in a deep breath, tossed back my hair, and walked in.

The place was packed. Already the band had made a name for itself with the passengers, and the crowds had come on thick. I pushed my way through, looking –

Kayla’s voice came bright from a corner near the stage. “Amanda! Over here!”

It was hard to miss her, once I turned to look. Her strapless outfit was neon pink, skin tight, nearly painted on along her large breasts. The Viking was at her side, his hand sliding along her hip. And next to them …

I nearly stopped at the rich emotion in his eyes, and he looked down my body, soaking me in. He was in a black t-shirt, jeans, and I wanted to pull the t-shirt up out from his belt, slide my hands along the ripples of his muscles, press myself against …

I shook myself from my fantasies as I came up to them, and Kayla smiled. She reached down to the table they stood against and handed me a flute. “Champagne, my dear,” she grinned. “Only the best for our tropical getaway.”

I took a sip, then turned to look up at Evan. His eyes seared into mine, and I glowed with the heat. His voice was thick. “You look … amazing, Amanda.”

My cheeks flushed. “Thanks.”

The drummer rapped his sticks together twice, and Evan’s head turned. He looked back to me. “Tom’s ready to go. Maybe we can talk later?”

I nodded, transfixed by his lips, and he smiled. I swayed toward him, drawn in by the scent of musk and sea salt and something sensual, and his hand brushed along my hip. Tingles coursed through me, lighting my body like an electrical charge. Then he turned, moving with Sven up onto the stage.

Kayla’s eyes followed her Viking. “Isn’t he amazing? Like a God damned miracle, he is.”

I nodded, my heart echoing the same words.

Evan slid on the guitar and looked back to the drummer. Tom raised his sticks in the air and rapped them together sharply four times in a row.

A wall of sound blasted out, a heavy, driving beat. Sven’s voice soared in a battle cry, filling the room, thundering over us all as they launched into Zeppelin’s
The Immigrant Song
.

Sven was a Norse god. I could see him, sword held high, on the front of a Viking longboat, charging down at a defenseless village, hot blooded to plunder, rape, and burn all in his path.

Kayla grabbed my hand, pulling me onto the dance floor, and the mob formed around us. The room rippled with the beat, with the thrumming of the guitar, and my body vibrated with every movement of Evan’s hand. The music coursed through me, primal, deep, and every cell in my body wanted him. I danced through the thick wall of people until I was right before him, one with his movements, one with that thick, muscled arm that –

The hand swept up, the music crashed to a halt, and he looked up.

A roar of approval thundered from the crowd, shook me to my very core, and I was lost in his eyes. Completely lost. There was no him, or me, or the mob of crazed fans around us. There was just a sense of perfection. Of something pure and endless and …

His fingers started moving again, a longing, rippling progression easing out of them, and I followed with it, swaying, the need building up with me. Sven’s vocals eased into place, sliding into
Ramble On
.

I hadn’t known I could feel like this. I spun and swirled like an autumn leaf, danced, transported by those fingers, by a connection I’d never felt before. Kayla was over with her Norse god, the room was beyond packed, and it was all far away from me. There was just me, and Evan, and this glorious music. The songs streamed into each other, Kalya gave a wave as she headed to the bar, and I wondered distantly when the band would take its break.

Emotions warred with me. I didn’t want this music to ever end. And I wanted Evan down in front of me, so I could hold him, so he could reach out with that hand, take me by the arm –

Firm fingers latched onto my arm, the grip digging into my skin.

I spun in shock, my eyes looking up –

Jeff stood there, his face flushed with fury, his light brown hair askew. He wore a dark green polo shirt over tan khakis, and I could smell the stink of cheap beer on his breath.

His voice was rich with shock and anger. “Amanda! What the fuck!”

Chapter 5

My mouth fell open in unbelieving shock. I staggered back, and it was only Jeff’s solid grip on my arm which kept me on my feet. He gave my wrist a shake, his look darkening as he drew his eyes down me.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Amanda. You look like a whore. And you’re shaking your ass so every guy in the room can get his rocks off watching you. Who the fuck put you up to this?” He turned his head, his eyes reaching the bar, to Kayla’s hot pink outfit which shone like a beacon in the madness. “Of course,” he growled. “I told you to stay away from that skank.”

He turned his eyes to pin me. “We’re going back to my room. Now.”

My heart thundered against my ribs. I couldn’t go. I couldn’t do it. He would get me alone, and he would … he would …

A presence came up behind me, steady, powerful, and I closed my eyes. For a moment Jeff vanished, and I breathed in the scent. I leant back slightly, and he was there, sturdy, muscular, and I knew.

I was safe.

Evan’s voice was low, calm, but there was a thread in there, a hint of something which should never be crossed.

“Take your hands off of her.”

The tight grip released from my arm, and I blinked my eyes open, drawing my arm in against my chest for safety. I rubbed the mark with my other hand, wondering how bad the bruises would be.

The two men were about the same height, six feet or so, and maybe even the same build. But the difference between them stunned me. Jeff had liked working out in the weight room, constructing a build which was good for show. He was like a catwalk model who had designed a costume for display.

I could feel Evan’s strength behind me, and I knew his carved muscles were for a different purpose altogether. He was designed for action – and he wouldn’t back down.

Jeff threw back his head, meeting Evan’s gaze with hot heat. “And who the fuck are you?”

I found my voice. “Jeff, this is Evan. He’s … he’s a friend of mine.”

Jeff’s lips turned down into a sneer. “Good God, Amanda. Now you’re fucking the crew? What’s next? You’ll bang the janitor because he does a good job scrubbing your toilet?”

Evan stilled behind me, and my heart hammered against my ribs. I couldn’t let Jeff do this. I couldn’t let him destroy everything, get Evan thrown off the ship, and bring my world crashing down around me.

Not again.

I leant back slightly against Evan, and it was as if I’d plugged into a high voltage power supply. Strength coursed through me, enriched me, infused me. Evan’s hand came to rest on my hip as if it’d always belonged there, and I smiled.

“Jeff, you and I broke up months ago. You’re in my past. What I choose to do now – in my present – is wholly up to me. I hope you have a good time on the rest of your cruise.” I drew myself up. “And now, if you’ll excuse me –”

I began to turn.

Jeff’s arm flashed out, reaching to grab my upper arm.

Evan moved more quickly than I could have thought possible. His hand intercepted Jeff’s arm, Evan’s fingers closing solidly around Jeff’s forearm. The fingers tightened, and Jeff’s movement was forcibly stopped.