Docked (24 page)

“Okay, well, I’ll make it work, then.”

Lana slips an arm around my shoulder. “I’m telling you, An. Impress him with this piece, and you’re guaranteed to move on up. You already have the odds in your favor. The minute Tanner Christensen called him directly to put in a good word for you, Ted was smitten with the idea of bumping you up. I won’t be surprised in the least if he promotes you in the fall.”

Not wanting to get my hopes up, I quickly change the subject. “Are you planning to see Carlos again?” I know she hooked up with him during the cruise, but she’s been pretty quiet about the whole thing. I haven’t pushed her for information, and knowing Lana, it was probably nothing but a fling, anyway.

“Nah, he’s old news.” She grins like a smart-ass and feeds me my own words. “It was fun while it lasted.”

We reach the parking lot and say our final goodbyes to Brie, then go our separate ways. Lana drops me off at my apartment and continues home, and I deflate the second I step through the front door. Everything is quiet. Smaller. More still. Even the relentless Florida sunshine can’t shake me from the post-vacation blues. I decide I’m determined to get that first draft of the review to Lana as quickly as possible, so I open my laptop and start to write. My suitcase remains unpacked, stationed at the foot of the front door. Laundry can wait. All of it can wait. I don’t want to leave the Trident Voyager yet, and working on this review gives me the perfect avenue to delay my return to the real world.

An hour passes and my eyelids begin to droop. I yawn and rise from the couch, moseying over to my suitcase. Guess it’s now or never. If I don’t unpack and do laundry now, I’ll just have to face the lovely little task in the morning. I pop the handle on the suitcase and start to wheel it toward the hall. I still when a sharp, brisk knock taps at the door. Turning on my heel, I lazily answer it, a rush of breath catching in my throat.

“Tanner?” My fingers grip the doorknob. I’m unable to do anything but stare. “What are you doing here?”

He doesn’t smile. There’s no hint of what he’s thinking, standing here on my doorstep like this. He simply nods politely—very typical Mr. Businessman Christensen—and greets me with an extended handshake.

“Miss Banks.”

My brow cocks and my gaze drops to his hand. He recoils the gesture, slipping his hand into his pocket instead.

He clears his throat. “May I come in?”

“How do you know where I live?”

Finally, a flash of something other than cool indifference bathes his face. That pleased, cocky expression of his pulls his lips into a light smirk. “I’m Tanner Christensen, Anya. That information is easily attainable for a man like me.”

“I see.” I step aside, the movement cautious, as if a snake is about to strike.

He accepts my invitation, keeping his hands clasped casually behind his back. “I asked Lana for your address,” he admits as he strolls inside, eyeing the ceiling and walls as if my apartment is a museum to be examined.

“Ah, of course.” I shut the door behind him. I watch as he wanders into my living room and turns around to face me, unbuttoning his suit jacket. My gaze lingers on the fluidity of his fingers, the way they deftly unhook the jacket button.

He seems to notice my observation. His smirk grows.

“So, what can I do for you, Tanner?” I steel myself and lift my chin, but Mr. Blue Eyes sees straight through me. I can feel my transparency, feel the heat of his stare slither straight down my spine to the tips of my toes. What in the hell is he doing here?

“I’ve come to renegotiate the terms of our arrangement.”

“I thought we agreed our arrangement was over.” I play with the hem of my sundress, suddenly wishing I’d applied some more deodorant. And brushed my teeth. The day has worn at me since stepping off the ship, and I’m inwardly kicking myself for not showering as soon as I arrived home.

“What would you say if I proposed an extension?” His blue gaze flickers at me from across the room, and he bites at his bottom lip, waiting. Watching. He doesn’t miss a thing. Not the way I’m toying with my dress, or the fact that I’m choking on my breath, as if I can’t suck in enough air. None of this seems to faze him, though. It only encourages him to step forward, to move in like a predator on a kill at the opportune time.

In seconds, he’s before me, the tips of his fingers skimming the tops of my thighs, along the edge of my dress, where my fingertips still play. “Anya,” he breathes, leaning in, “no one, and I mean no one, is as deliciously fuckable as you are, right now, in that dress. I want to taste you again.” His lips brush mine and I shiver, reaching back for the side of the dining room table. My fingers locate and grip at it, desperate for something, anything to rescue me from whatever it is I know I’m about to fall into with Tanner if I let him touch me like this. He kisses me, softly and sweetly, but there’s power and demand behind it, urging me on. “Say yes.”

“Tanner, I can’t. You shouldn’t be here.”

“You want me here.” His teeth graze my jaw line and his fingertips mingle with mine, slowly inching up the dress hem.

“I told you, this isn’t a good idea.”

“Why?” He raises a hand and flicks his thumb over my nipple, cupping me over the thin, lacy material. “Tell me why this isn’t a good idea.”

“I’ve already explained it.”

“No.” He swirls his thumb again and grips me hard, stepping forward to push me back to the edge of the table. “You haven’t.”

I gulp and suck in a sharp breath when my rear hits the edge. The words spill out. I can’t stop them even if I tried. “I should have listened to my instinct,” I reply quietly. “I can’t play. Not with you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means you’re not just any man to me. You’re not just…”

“Just what?”

“A fling. A plaything. I thought you could be. But I was wrong.” I blink, waiting for him to back up, waiting for him to retreat and haul ass out the front door. But he doesn’t move, just skims his lips across my cheek. “Tanner? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you.” His fingers drift down and slip between my thighs. He smiles against me and whispers. “So wet.”

“Please, stop.” My eyes shut and my head slowly rolls back.

“You don’t mean that.”

My lids peek open and I find his gaze. “I’m starting to have feelings for you. Is that clear enough?”

Silence stretches around us, snapping from one end of the room to the other. He still doesn’t move.

“Tanner?”

“You make me want things,” he finally says, glaring down, expression guarded. “Different things.”

“Different things?”

“New things.” He bristles against me, carefully lifting and slipping me onto the edge of the table. My body moves fluidly, yielding to his touch. “I’m not sure what it means. I’m not even sure I like it. But I know I need to pursue it, whatever it is. If there’s one thing I listen to besides my cock, it’s the nagging in my head. And you’ve been nagging the hell out of me. You, and your damn sticky note system. You, touching shit on my desk and finding ridiculously rational places for it. Your moans when you come, the way you look me in the eyes when I fuck you, like I’m a person, a man who can give you something you’ve never had. You. You and that damned beautiful mouth. The way your eyes light up when you talk about traveling. You’ve exhausted me, Anya. I’m so goddamn tired of you running around in my head.”

“And you consider that a good thing?” I squeak, eyes dropping to my lap, watching as he hitches my dress up to my waist. He wrenches the material aside and hovers over me, pressing his palms flat onto the table at my sides.

“I don’t know what it is, baby. I only know I want it. And I go after what I want.”

My hands grip his face, my thumbs smoothing over his rigid jaw, and I tilt my head up, brushing his lips with my tongue before pressing myself against him fully. He sighs against me at the touch, a breathy moan that is my undoing, and he kisses me back, smoothing his hand down my spine, landing on the flare of my hip.

“Wait,” I pull away and slide back on the table, pressing my palms against his torso, keeping him at a distance. My body’s heat protests the separation. “Just wait.”

He swallows and his eyes drift open, hazy with lust. “What’s wrong?”

“You said you came here to renegotiate our agreement.”

“I did.” Clarity invades some of the haze.

“What is it you want to renegotiate? You want us to continue this…until what?”

“I don’t know. Do we have to know right now? Can’t we just see where it goes?”

“I do. I have to know.” I slide my legs to the right and shimmy my dress down, hopping off the table. I slowly walk around it, facing him once I’m safely on the other side. “The whole reason I cut things off when I did was because I was beginning to have feelings for you, Tanner.”

“I understand that. It’s why I’m here. That’s why I came to see you.” He leans forward slightly, placing his hands on the table’s edge. “Just give me two more weeks.”

“Two more weeks of what?” I laugh in disbelief. “I can’t do that to myself. I won’t.”

A whisper of panic flashes in his eyes but he restrains it, keeping it in check. He glances to the left and collects a breath. “What if I tried to give you more?”

I watch him carefully, like a lion about to pounce. I’m certain I didn’t hear him right. “You don’t want more, Tanner. You’ve made that very clear.”

“I’m confused right now, Miss Banks. That’s all. You do things to me. Make me want things. The direction I’m headed…” he tugs at his hair and sighs heavily, “this is my last chance, Anya.”

“Your last chance at what?”

He opens his mouth to speak but his gaze is conflicted, his mouth tripping on the words. His lips seal tightly.

“Tanner,” I step around the table and move toward him, stepping toe to toe with him, “what are you talking about?”

“My last chance to change direction. You made me realize that. And you’re what I want. You’re that chance.”

I reach out to touch his arm, studying him. His shoulders are tense; his gaze is severe. “What are you saying? I don’t understand.”

Suddenly he brings his forehead down, flush with mine. He stares into my eyes, saying so many things at once, yet leaving me winded, leaving me empty. I’m swimming in a sea of confusion, drowning in the stormy blue of his gaze. “Come back on the Trident Voyager with me. Just give me two more weeks.”

“What?” I blink.

“I spoke to Ted twenty minutes ago. I asked him if he’d approve another sailing. The expense is all on my tab.”

My eyes widen. “You
what
?” My hand grips my stomach and I stumble back. “I just walked in the door, Tanner. I’m not even unpacked, and you want me to go on another cruise?” My mind is spinning. He’s not only asking me to spend another two weeks with him on his ship, he also just revealed that he called my boss
again
. “You can’t meddle in my professional life like this. I want to earn Ted’s good favor fair and square, not because you’re recommending me for God knows what, just so you can screw me at your convenience!”

“Anya,” he invades my space again, expression earnest. I hate that he looks so sincere, because all I really want to do in that moment is slap him for being such an arrogant, presumptuous arse. “Please, don’t be insulted by this. I’m not trying to buy you out or degrade you or…shit, none of this is coming out right. This is new for me. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” He spins on his heel and steps across the room, and I watch him, my eyes still wide in shock at his outrageous audacity.

“Then what was your intention here? Help me understand, because I’m two seconds away from kicking you out.”

He turns to face me and inhales deeply. “I’m just asking for two more weeks with you. Two more weeks to please you, to spend time with you. To see if I can…to see where this goes.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not willing to take that risk right now.”

“Why not? What’s life without some risk?”

“There is a reason I don’t spend time on boats, Tanner. You know that,” I say, nearly choking on the pulse beating violently in the back of my throat. “You saw me in the storm, nearly getting tossed overboard by the wind. You saw me try to face my fear and you saw it break me down. You carried me inside, away from the crashing waves. Being on the ocean forces me to remember the accident. Maybe I don’t want to do that again.” I close my eyes, remembering the nightmares, the visions of reaching for Zoe’s hand in the cold, dark water.

“That’s because you refuse to see it for what it really was, Anya,” Tanner replies quietly. His voice is even and firm. “It wasn’t an accident; it was a rescue. You saved her.”

I am floored by his words—so stunned I forget to breathe for a moment. “Right,” I whisper. “You’re right. But no one’s going to save me when you toss me out with the rest of them. What happens at the end of those two weeks, huh? You tell me. What happens when I feel more than you do? You’re not risking a thing. You’re asking me to take the risk. I’m the one with something to lose here, not you.”

“That couldn’t be farther from the truth.” He looks away and grits his teeth, an undercurrent in his tone sweeping far and wide, knocking me back. A beat passes and he collects himself again, turning to grip my shoulders. “Two weeks, Anya. Two weeks of your life, that’s all I’m asking. This is an offer for another fully paid luxury cruise. All on me. You get to write more about my ship, more about your travels, more for your magazine. Your boss is already on board. It’s a wonderful career opportunity. Please.”