Chapter 8 Logan
LOGAN
Why was I nervous?
It wasn’t as if we were going on a date.
Okay, maybe I was dressed up more than usual.
And wearing cologne.
And pacing as I waited for Nina to appear dockside.
But this was definitely not a date, despite all of the date-adjacent indicators. I was merely taking my employee out for a much-deserved evening off while docked at our latest overnight destination.
We were making incredible progress with Noah, all thanks to her.
When I asked her to come out with me tonight, I thought fine dining and maybe a little gambling on the island of Nésion would be a nice way to thank her.
This night had been set up as a getaway for the parents, so the kids—including Noah—were well occupied with a whole movie night/slumber party planned.
Nina and I were responsibility-free in the perfect place to have a good time.
The island was basically a floating Las Vegas where things could get wild as hell, but I planned to keep our evening simple.
A great meal, maybe a turn or two at the slot machines, then back on board.
I’d almost convinced myself that what we were doing was essentially an off-site meeting when I turned around and spotted Nina gliding toward me.
The sun was setting, which made her approach cinematic, backlighting her so that her sheer dress was transparent from her thighs down.
I felt a stirring between my own thighs.
No. Down boy.
She was far enough away that I could take my time admiring her as she got closer.
Here I thought the dressed-down, casual version of her I’d experienced the night Noah had his breakdown was stunning, but holy shit, the glammed-up Nina was a freaking smoke show.
Her hair was loose in all of its curly glory, cascading past her shoulders and down her back.
The light pink dress hugged the surprise curves that her uniform usually camouflaged.
And lord help me, those hips. I sighed and continued my inventory.
She was in stilettoes but walking like they were as comfortable as sneakers. Who was this woman? She could crawl around on the floor in khakis and a golf shirt with a pack of kids then somehow metamorphosize into this supermodel who moved like she spent her days on a catwalk.
When she spotted me, her expression shifted from scanning the crowds on the dock with a furrowed brow to beaming.
Yeah, that smile was just for me. I tried not to get cocky and barely succeeded.
The smile didn’t dim as she walked closer. I glanced around and saw that every man she passed watched her walk by.
“Hi!” she said brightly. She scanned me up and down. “You look great.”
Now that Nina was right in front of me, I couldn’t form a complete sentence.
“And you look…” I gestured helplessly.
“Different, right?” She laughed. She did a little spin, giving me a fantastic view of an ass so perky that I felt like I needed to wipe away drool.
Then she was facing me again, and it was an effort to keep my eyes trained on hers, not on the full breasts nearly spilling out of the top of her dress.
Damn it, every bit of her was perfect. Maintaining professional boundaries wasn’t going to be easy, especially if we opted to enjoy the island’s signature alcohol, Ouaca, which was rumored to be strong enough to knock a lumberjack on his ass with just one glass.
Yeah, I needed to avoid anything that altered my ability to make good decisions, because Nina made me want to break all of my rules.
“You look lovely,” I finally managed. “Shall we?”
“We shall,” she grinned. “I haven’t had a night out in ages. I love being on board, but after a while, I start to feel like a caged animal.”
“Well, tonight you can run free,” I said as I navigated us through the crowds.
We eventually made our way to the casino and wound up side by side at the gleaming private chef’s table in the casino’s five-star restaurant.
The chef kept up a running commentary as he prepped our meals.
We didn’t have to worry about making small talk since we were his captive audience for the majority of dinner.
Not that I was complaining; the food was incredible, and fresh drinks showed up anytime our glasses were less than half full.
“Hey,” Nina bumped her shoulder against mine as we waited for our dessert. She looked extra smiley and giggly.
“Yes?” I drawled.
She leaned close, and her warm breath tickled my ear. “I’m feeling lucky tonight.”
I cleared my throat. Um, I was not anticipating such a bold proposition. I wasn’t sure how to respond.
“I want to gamble,” she leaned back and threw her hands in the air. “I think I’m going to win all the money in this joint!”
I laughed at her enthusiasm, swallowing down the disappointment over my misunderstanding. “Is that so? What’s your game of choice?”
She paused and pushed out her bottom lip. “Huh. I actually dunno. Do slot machines count?”
The chef chuckled as he drizzled melted chocolate over something that already looked sinfully chocolate-y. “Not if you’re a real gambler. Craps is where you want to be.”
I had to agree with him. The energy of a good craps game was hard to beat. I could already imagine Nina getting the whole table to cheer her on.
“I don’t know how to play,” she pouted.
“Your man looks like he does,” the chef replied. “You two can be a team.”
We both rushed to correct him.
“Oh, she’s not—”
“No, we’re not—” Nina said.
“Together,” we answered in unison.
The chef paused with the chocolate-dipped spoon hovering in the air above the plate. “Oh. Well, okay then, if you insist.”
He hid a smile, and I wondered just what he’d seen happening between us. After all, all we did was eat. And laugh. And regale each other with stories of our worst voyages in between chef-talk. It had been a thoroughly enjoyable kickoff to our evening.
The chef disappeared after handing over our dessert, then reappeared a few moments later trailed by a beautiful blonde in a black cocktail dress clutching a tablet.
“Good evening, Mr. Ashford and Miss Reyes, I’m Alanna Jones, gaming liaison,” she began. “I heard that you might be interested in playing craps with us this evening. I wanted to invite you to our join us in our Elite Player’s Club.”
She presented me with a deep purple key card with no writing on it other than the casino’s discreet logo.
“It’s where our executive guests play. It’s a more…elevated game than what you might find out on the floor,” she continued.
Translation: it’s where suckers with more money than sense went to lose in private.
“Does it get wild?” Nina asked.
The word “does” came out sounding like “dosh,” and it hit me that she was starting to get tipsy.
Alanna hid a smile. “Not usually. It’s a fairly intense space for gaming. Very serious players.”
“Well then, thanks but no thanks,” Nina grinned at her. She hitched her thumb toward me. “We’re here for the party, you know? Been working super hard. I want to get crazy.”
Oh yeah, Nina was definitely a little drunk. Usually, I found drunk people annoying. I got enough of it from the guests on the ship…but Nina? She was just so cute like this.
“Excellent, understood,” Alanna nodded. “The you’ll want to make your way to our main gaming space. It’s quite spirited. You’ll be in good company.”
“Perfect! But not before I finish this…” she pointed at the plate in front of her and leaned closer to catch the chef’s eye. “What’s it called again?”
“It’s a tartufo,” he answered.
“So good!” Nina pounded her spoon on the table, and a laugh broke free from my chest. God, but she shouldn’t be this endearing. “Everything was. Can I just stay here and keep eating forever?”
She listed back and forth in her seat.
Oh hell. I was in for quite the night with Little Miss Tipsy.
We finished up, and when I stood to leave, I felt like I was on a boiling sea. The ground went wavy, and I had to lock my knees to keep from stumbling.
Hold on. Was I tipsy too?
No, impossible. I always keep track of how many drinks I have, and tonight I’d only had…damn it, I couldn’t remember. It couldn’t have been more than four.
Or was it five?
I wasn’t even sure what they were serving. All I knew was that every tumbler went down smooth and easy.
“To the craps table!” Nina demanded, pointing ahead like a general.
I chuckled. “So you’re in charge tonight, huh?”
She fluttered her eyelashes, exaggerated, at me. “Yeah,” she practically purred. “Do you think you can handle it?”
Fuck. “I can handle anything you can dish out.”
Another giggle. “We’ll see.”
Nina stumbled, and I reached out to steady her.
My hand landed on her waist and remained there even after she was back on two feet.
My rule-following business brain told me that resting my hand on the sweet, soft curve of her hip for longer than two seconds bordered on inappropriate, but whatever had been in those tumblers convinced me that holding on was a fantastic idea.
She looked over her shoulder at me and smiled, which seemed to convey that she thought so too. I moved my hand to the small of her back and left it there under the guise of leading her through the busy kitchen.
We made it to the main gaming floor in one piece, even though Nina held onto the escalator with two hands, like it was an unsteady amusement park ride.
I leaned closer to her as we descended into the chaos. “Are you okay?”
She giggled. “Absolutely! Are you okay, Mr. Can’t-Walk-In-A-Straight-Line?”
I jerked backward. “What are you talking about?”
She snorted. “Nothing.”
I covered up the fact that I tripped getting off the escalator by speeding up into a jog, then reached back to take Nina’s hand.
To steady her, of course, but once I was holding it, I didn’t want to let go.