CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER FIVE
I N PROPER LIGHTING Jario saw her bikini-clad body, full and ripe and weakening his already battered senses. It occurred to him that he was risking even more. That perhaps she’d seen a hint of weakness she intended to exploit. Yet, thoughts of self-preservation gave way to a rare benefit-of-the-doubt-giving as he trailed after her into the nearest living room.
That and her magic hands.
She turned towards him. ‘Sit.’
He frowned at the order, and yet he moved to where she indicated, the lounge seat overlooking the night-shrouded view. ‘This means nothing. You’re still fired.’
The smallest smile curved her lips. ‘I know. Take this as thanks for not throwing me overboard the first night.’
The last crumb of common sense remaining said this was a mistake, but he couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d tried. Adjusting his towel around his waist, he stretched out on the lounger.
His pulse leapt as her hands glided over his back and neck once more, unravelling knots so effectively, another groan built up in his chest. Tensing, Jario forced it into a grunt.
‘You’ve done this before.’
Her fingers paused for the tightest second before continuing. ‘Yes, but not in a while.’
Unwelcome sensations blasted through him, surprising him when he recognised it as jealousy. ‘Explain,’ he said before he could stop himself.
A throb of silence passed before she expelled a soft breath. ‘My mother taught me when I was a teenager. She was always hobby hopping. She got into Thai massage for a whole nine months before she jumped onto miniature pig breeding.’
Perhaps it was the exhaustion blocking the resentment from flowing through him, reminding him that his other parent was near enough as out of reach as his father. But he couldn’t add his mother and her problems into the bonfire of his challenges right now.
Not when his enemy’s daughter’s hands were creating disarming magic, pushing back the teeming chaos with one stroke. Then another.
‘She taught you well,’ he admitted.
Again, the pause was small. But he felt it. Dragging open eyes gone drowsy, he sneaked a glance. Saw her face set in anguished lines, the corners of her sinfully tempting mouth turned down. She was fully concentrating on her task, not realising her expression was giving her away.
He should’ve shut his eyes then, blocked out whatever was going on with her and just allowed this curious scene to play out while he regained his weakening control.
‘What is it?’ Seriously. What was wrong with him?
Her head jerked up, her wide eyes catching his. Her lips firmed. Then with another wary glance, she dug her fingers into the small of his back.
His muted groan filled the room as she answered.
‘It was one of the last things she taught me before she left.’
‘Left?’
She half nodded. ‘She packed her bags one afternoon and announced she was leaving my father for another man.’
One more thing Chatterton had destroyed? Jario should’ve found vindication in that knowledge. But all he could summon was a flare of bitterness before it dissipated, leaving behind a perplexing flash of sympathy. One he attempted to kill immediately and when it wouldn’t die, he shoved it away to tackle later.
‘Why?’
Pain darted across her face and again her mouth thinned as if she wanted to hold the words in. Her gaze fixed on her moving hands. ‘There’d been a strain between them for years. Ever since...he returned from a business trip.’
Jario tensed at the sharp tug in his chest.
Dios , were his defences so weakened that he was concerned for her suffering? He closed his eyes to shut off the feeling. Only to open them three seconds later, in time to see a deeper pain etch into her features.
‘It worsened. They started rowing. A lot. They were close before...whatever happened occurred. He started drinking heavily, keeping things from her...from us, and she...sought attention elsewhere.’
‘And you? How did that affect you?’ Somewhere deep inside him, that kernel of unwelcome concern grew larger.
She shrugged. ‘I fell through the cracks caused by the fractures, I guess.’ The flippant answer didn’t ring true.
But he couldn’t summon the energy to gloat. Not when his senses had gone hyper-alert. ‘Did you ever wonder what had triggered the change?’ he asked, even though he didn’t need to. They both knew.
Paul Chatterton had returned home from cruelly betraying his partner and partner’s child and hadn’t quite been able to pick up the pieces of his life. Had the cosmos sought to right the wrong for him?
Not thoroughly enough. If life was fair, his father would still be here.
She exhaled. ‘I assume that business trip was the one involving your father?’
‘Sí . ’ The confirmation seared him to the soul.
And in that moment, he grudgingly accepted that while it’d appeased him for a while to visit her father’s punishment on her, it now left him hollow and unsatisfied. Because she’d suffered, too?
‘Do you want me to stop?’
Did he want her to leave? To dwell on this new detail, dissect it until he was brimming with more grief and bitterness? When he’d tasted the absence of it with her presence and her touch?
‘No. Stay. Continue. If you want,’ he added gruffly.
A minute passed. She resumed her massage. And something deeply soothing settled over his senses.
Dios .
‘Anyway, I came home from violin lessons one day to find my mother on the driveway, about to leave with another man.’
Her fingers slowed halfway up his back and he wanted to command she keep going. But different words formed. ‘She left without you?’
He caught her nod. ‘She remarried and moved to New York. She promised I could visit her when she settled. She never called. And eventually, I realised she never would.’ Her eyes drifted up to meet his. ‘As for my father, his drinking got heavier.’
Jario held her gaze, waiting for the predictable plea on her father’s behalf. Something hard jolted inside him when he realised it wasn’t coming. That not once this evening had she demanded more answers. That conversely, he’d spotted flashes of anger mingled with her own pain.
Sí it would be a betrayal of his father’s memory to offer solace to the daughter of his enemy, and yet cruelty just for cruelty’s sake left a bitter taste in his mouth. So he didn’t gloat. And he said nothing as her hands moved again, skirting his buttocks to dig into his traps and quads, offering a kindness that baffled and disarmed. That drew longer, deeper breaths from him, slowly slackening the tightness in his chest and leaving a curious swell of peace he hadn’t felt in a long time.
Until hands shook his shoulders once. Then again.
Jario turned over, eyes snapping open. ‘What are you doing?’
Her bikini was now partly covered by a monogrammed dressing gown but he still smelled the lemongrass on her skin as she bent over him. Still caught glimpses of her delectable body through the opening.
‘You fell asleep. I think you were having a bad dream,’ she murmured, traces of that kindness she’d shown him softening her eyes.
The chest tightening returned in full force.
He wanted to say her probing gaze would find nothing. But wouldn’t that be shutting the barn door after the horse had bolted? He’d already shown her a physically weakened Jario Tagarro. Displayed the lake of desolation and grief rushing beneath the surface.
And she hadn’t taken advantage of it. She’d offered a helping hand.
Pushing that voice away, he startlingly realised something else.
Although the room mostly remained in shadow because of the position of the yacht, the sun was streaming through the farthest window. He jerked upright, alarmed at how refreshed he felt, despite the nightmare that had eventually disturbed him. ‘How long was I asleep?’
‘Six, maybe seven hours?’
Six...seven hours ?
He exhaled sharply in shock. ‘That’s not—’ He caught himself before he added possible , reluctant to draw even more questions. But the truth that he hadn’t slept for seven hours since before that fateful, deadly trip to Colombia was unavoidable as he glanced at his watch, his mind churning.
She did this. She’s responsible...
Even as Jario pushed those whispered thoughts away, he was catching her hand before she turned away from him. ‘You’re not leaving.’ He wasn’t entirely sure if he meant out of his living room or out of his life. Perhaps sleep hadn’t offered the clarity he sought after all.
That sexy, challenging eyebrow rose. ‘Why the hell not?’
Yes, this should be interesting, Jario.
He ignored the taunting voice, pushed it away in favour of the gut instinct that had made him billions in a shockingly short space of time. Then hardened his resolve. ‘Because I’m not quite done with you.’
She faced him fully, the defiance firmly back in place. ‘If you think I’m going to stick around to be used as a punch bag just so you—’
‘I’ll tell you what happened with your father.’ The offer grated in his throat and he wished he could snatch it right back. But that brief moment of peace last night had felt...good. He wanted it back, for however long he could have it. Because ultimately, it wasn’t sustainable. Right?
She inhaled sharply, a mixture of pain, anger and hope in her searching eyes. ‘You will?’
His nod felt jerky. ‘ Sí . But in my own time and on my terms.’
‘What does that mean?’
‘How much time do you have? I assume you’re on vacation, which is why you could board a yacht heading for Bali without a second thought?’
She scoffed. ‘Trust me, I had second, third and fourth thoughts.’
He remained silent.
‘I’m overdue vacation, yes. But...’
Her hesitation riled him. ‘But what?’
‘But I also play the piano and violin,’ she said eventually, pride flaring in her eyes and squaring her shoulders. ‘I’ve been offered a place on the Mondia Symphony Orchestra as a violinist in the fall.’
Surprise spiked through him. ‘And you signed up to be a deckhand?’
‘As Ripley’s assistant. I think we both know how I felt about scrubbing your deck.’
His gaze dropped to the hand he was still holding, turning it over with a frown and a spike of guilt. They didn’t look the worse for wear for what he’d made her do. Hell, they were still soft...silky and firm...
He sucked in a breath, dragged his mind back to the relevant topic. ‘That makes you free for how long?’
She eyed him warily. ‘Two weeks, give or take.’
Jario ignored the kick in his chest and the heat prowling through him when her hand jerked within his. ‘Good.’
The faintest tremble went through the fingers he held. ‘You couldn’t wait to get rid of me a few hours ago, and now you want me to stay? I’m not fond of mind games, Jario,’ she said, triggering that need to drill into her reticence. Dismantle her bewilderment.
Because by tackling hers, he might better understand and defeat his own?
‘You didn’t have the decency to stay out of my way. So now we bargain.’ The heady smell of lemongrass from her skin—from both their skins—heated his blood and made his mouth positively water.
Her lips parted in surprise, but she didn’t tug herself free when he pulled her close. As the silence thickened between them, as their bodies reacted as they had from the first, from the insane chemical reaction their proximity created, his gaze dropped to the tightening nipples so very tantalising close to his mouth.
Hunger stalked through his veins, savage, more potent than he’d ever felt in his life. Sharpened by long months of abstention? Perhaps. But more than that, it was a need to conquer the unfamiliar threat she posed, this indescribable fixation he’d developed for her.
Letting her leave as she’d threatened would be the best option, but that need to win, to dominate this problem, wouldn’t free him from its claws.
‘If I stay, I’m not sleeping with you to get you to tell me what happened with my father.’ Again, there was something behind her tone that spoke of past, deeper subtexts.
Something kicked again, then half settled, partially mollified he was getting what he wanted. ‘Good. You’ll come to my bed because your every sense screams at you to take me because you want me. But whether you do or not, you’ll also use the time to convince me why I shouldn’t destroy your father. You won’t succeed, but at the very least he’ll have two weeks’ grace from my plans for him.’
Her gaze remained on his. Bold. Defiant. ‘And if I refuse this bargain?’
The vibration in his body announced his response to that even before he spoke. ‘Then you can pretend you quit instead of being fired and leave my yacht when we get to Bali and I’ll forget you exist.’
Her eyes shadowed a little but she didn’t back down. ‘You think you can forget me that easily?’
He resented the trace of derision in her voice. But Jario couldn’t deny that the riling turned him on even harder. He would tolerate it. For now. He’d never prized overeager bed partners. There was a certain thrill in the chase that made eventual capitulation that much sweeter.
And while he didn’t want her to leave for reasons that were still mystifying, he wasn’t about to give up this new game he’d become curiously invested in.
Releasing her hand, he transferred his hands to her hips, groaning inwardly at how her soft, firm skin warmed beneath his fingers, almost smiling when she gave herself away by leaning just a fraction closer. Gliding upward, he tightened his hold on her waist, banding his hands until they touched, and his brain immediately threw up erotic images of just what he would do to her when she eventually capitulated.
Dios mio.
‘The past three days have been evidence enough, no?’ he taunted while skirting the glaring admission.
The unwelcome pang that invaded his chest when her eyes shadowed once more, he chose to ignore. He wasn’t here to make Willow Chatterton feel better. Or comfortable.
She was here to extend this curious respite she induced—
He bit back a grunt as her fingers danced a little hesitantly over his shoulders, giving away that touch of inexperience. Then she surprised him by spearing those fingers into his hair, her touch a little tart as her fist clenched. His shaft thickened beneath the towel still tied around his waist.
‘There’s a world of difference between three days where I’m out of sight, and whatever you’re planning for the next two weeks, Mr Tagarro. Anything can happen.’
Further images bombarded him and not just the carnal kind. He’d never tolerated guests on the La Venganza for more than a few days at a time. He preferred his own company. Craved the privacy and even after all these years, the distance from seeing happy families that reminded him of everything he’d lost.
The idea of having this woman on board the very vessel that proclaimed his intention to annihilate her father to the world should’ve been anathema to him as it’d been that first morning he’d learned her identity. And yet, the way she went toe to toe with him, those flashes of anguish and anger that had ignited a curious affinity...
Jario grudgingly admitted he was not ready to be done with it. Yet .
Because he was...lonely?
Diavolo, no .
He was merely taking a stimulating detour to his final destination.
Dragging her even closer, he trailed his nose over her midriff, circling her neat little navel. Smiling to himself when she gasped and her clenched fingers shook. Gratified when she still didn’t pull away. He suspected the scent of lemongrass would haunt him after he’d finished dealing with her. Lemongrass and sexy woman. He inhaled her deep into his lungs and her belly muscles quivered delightfully. Sexy responsive woman.
It struck him abstractedly—because a wave of intoxication was washing over him—that she could very well derail his goals. Far more than she already had.
Then send her away in Bali.
Reluctantly unclenching his fingers from her delicious skin, he set her aside and forced himself to rise, his painful erection demanding satisfaction he didn’t intend to provide as he sauntered to the door. ‘Indeed. Which is why you should think carefully before you give me your decision. Take the day off. Find me at seven p.m. tonight and give me your answer.’
Willow stepped beneath the shower despite a heavy reluctance to wash off the events of last night and this morning. It felt like she would lose something more vital than the scent of lemongrass.
Something had changed in the past twelve hours. Her burning need for answers had diminished, while in direct proportion her anguished fury had grown towards her father. Because deep down, she knew he bore the blame, if not for all, then for some of what had happened to Jario and his father.
She lowered her head as the shower jets pummelled her.
Had she crossed the Rubicon where her relationship with her father was concerned by accepting the Mondia violinist position ten minutes ago?
Or was it to do with Jario himself?
Learning that despite seeking his revenge, he hadn’t callously walked away from the people who’d been within the direct fallout of his action had touched her. It’d been far more than her own father had done.
Or perhaps because he hadn’t gloated when she’d told him about her broken family? Maybe it was something as simple as offering him a means of solace and seeing its effect on the formidable man most cowered before.
Whatever the true cause, she welcomed—temporarily, she knew—the muting of her rioting emotions where her father was concerned. She knew she’d have to deal with it later. Just as she welcomed the easing of the intense turbulence between her and Jario. Hell, she borderline understood him now, or as much as she could dare to grasp the grief and anguish driving him.
Although a different sort of intensity had taken the place of the old.
She would never make the mistake of calling him soft because that would be likening a jungle predator to a cuddly house pet.
And yet...she’d felt safe enough to tamp down her reservation and ease the weariness and the shadows in his eyes and body.
More, she’d stayed at his side while he slept—and no, the rabid need to see him rest wasn’t something she intended to contemplate yet—and woke him when bad dreams had triggered those awful, anguished sounds.
She’d barely been able to stop herself from blurting ‘yes’ when he’d offered a new bargain, not because her first thought had been about her primary reason for being here but because agreeing meant remaining on board.
With him.
Willow squeezed her eyes shut, a ragged moan of confused excitement breaking free, thankfully washed away by the streaming water. But the sensations stalking through her wouldn’t be rinsed free, bypassing every warning from her brain.
She was treading a dangerous path.
Willow recognised that. And yes, she would be tracking him down come 7 p.m. Because more than wanting to uncover the whole story—and most likely have her fears confirmed—she also wanted more .
She wanted Jario Tagarro.
Her breath shuddered out as the admission settled deep into her bones.
That thing he’d done with his nose over her belly still made her nipples hard and her core hot just thinking about it.
But she also wanted to explore the complex layers beneath his cool facade. Why? Was there a psychological explanation to this fascination?
Or was it something as simple as intense chemistry pulling her to the most intriguing man she’d ever met?
Gritting her teeth at the chaotic thoughts, she wrenched off the faucet and stepped out.
Molly, her cabin mate, was rarely around, which thankfully left Willow with the space to herself most times.
Dressed in jeans shorts and a white cotton top, she padded barefoot into the crew living area. After making herself a coffee and helping herself to a croissant, she was heading for the dining table when Rebecca walked in.
The few times they’d run into each other since the incident in Jario’s office, Rebecca had been coolly neutral.
Clearing her throat, Willow took the bull by the horns. ‘I owe you an apology.’
Rebecca searched Willow’s gaze for a second, then shrugged. ‘Whatever your reasons for wanting the job, you still worked harder than half of the guys on board.’ She headed to the coffee machine. Once she’d filled her cup, she leaned against the counter. ‘But I’m guessing I’ll need to find your replacement?’
Willow grimaced. ‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
After a moment’s silence, Rebecca asked, ‘Are you okay?’
Willow’s fingers curled around her coffee cup, her muddled emotions swirling faster. ‘Not entirely. But I hope it’ll get better.’
Far too revealing words, plucked from the centre of the maelstrom within her, made her face heat up.
A flash of softness cut through her aloofness before Rebecca approached. ‘Well, good luck. When you’re ready to leave, come find me for your ticket home.’
When you’re ready...
As the hours ticked by, Willow knew deep down that she wasn’t ready yet. And that the decision she’d be making scared the hell out of her.
Her spaghetti-strap, thigh-length sundress was nowhere as stylish as the chicly dressed women she’d watched heading for his yacht back in Los Cabos... God, was it only a handful of days ago? But it was better than shorts and a tank top.
As her fingers lingered on her favourite lemongrass-based floral perfume, nerves attacked her before she pushed them away. Jario had the most beautiful, sophisticated women at his beck and call. Her choice of perfume wasn’t going to turn his world upside down. Nor was he insecure in his manhood to accuse her of some sort of entrapment like David once had.
Hell, if anything, he was too arrogant in that department.
After spritzing the perfume at her pulse points, she applied a coat of lip gloss and left her cabin.
Climbing up from the lower decks, she realised she didn’t know where to find Jario. On a yacht this size, she could easily waste fifteen minutes looking for him.
She was wondering the best way to find out when Dylan, the deckhand who’d refereed their e-Foil race, appeared.
‘Good evening, Miss. Mr Tagarro will see you on the fifth deck.’
‘Oh. Thanks. And it’s Willow.’
He nodded politely. ‘I can show you the quickest route if you want?’
At her nod, he led her to a sleek lift she hadn’t spotted before. She knew why she’d needed the escort when he used a silver key card to activate it. When it slid open, he stepped back, ushered her in, then pressed the appropriate button. ‘Enjoy your evening, Willow.’
He was gone before she could answer. And in the short ride up, all the nerves she’d tried desperately to suppress surged up with her.
Jario was standing tall and a solid six feet away when the doors slid open, giving her zero time to collect herself.
His gaze raked over her, as brooding and incisive as they’d been the last time she saw him, when he’d held her captive between his thighs and awakened a hunger that hadn’t abated despite her efforts to suppress it.
Don’t think about that!
‘What was that with Rebecca this afternoon?’ he asked abruptly, but she caught a flash of something vaguely resembling concern in his eyes. ‘Did something happen?’
Her eyebrows shot up. ‘Something like what?’
His shrug was offhand. His fierce stare was anything but. ‘Another allergic reaction?’ He bit the words out like they offended him.
‘No, but...how do you know? Are you watching me?’
His exhale was slow, heavy, like he was...relieved? The hard glance he slid her a moment later diluted the notion but didn’t erode it altogether, making her heart race even faster.
‘You’re on my property, Willow. I’m well within my rights to do whatever I want.’
‘Sure, but I thought you’d have better things to do than to watch me.’ Why saying that sent hot tingles arrowing through her was a reaction she pushed to the back of her mind. Fairly unsuccessfully.
‘I’m great at multitasking,’ he said, his voice silky-smooth and devastating.
‘One of those tasks isn’t to fire her, I hope?’
His jaw gritted at her sharp tone. But he didn’t answer immediately. He approached her, his loose-limbed strides belying the power and dynamism packed into his hard body.
The back of his knuckles drifted down one cheek, leaving a trail of delicious fire. ‘Pretend all you want that outrage on Rebecca’s behalf is the reason your cheeks are flushed and your body is reacting so...interestingly. We both know differently.’
‘You can think what you want as long as you don’t fire her. She’s done nothing wrong.’
His gaze drilled into her for nerve-shredding seconds while they both acknowledged the subtext of their open conversation.
And when he answered, she knew better than to think she’d won some sort of battle, never mind the war. ‘She’s a valued member of my staff. She’s not going anywhere.’
Relieved it was something she wouldn’t have to add to her list of mounting problems, she murmured, ‘Thank you.’
A glint lit his eyes then, but he turned away before she could deduce its meaning.
‘Have you eaten dinner yet?’ he asked, again taking her by surprise with his abrupt change of subject.
She wanted to rile him by asking if he didn’t know the answer since he’d been watching her but she stopped herself, reminded of the less...aggrieved times they’d spent so far. Like when he’d taught her to throw the axe. Or in the moments before she’d won their race on the water three days ago. When she’d watched him sleep.
Glancing past him to the deck, she saw the dining table laid for two. ‘No.’ Her stomach had churned too hard all day to sustain an appetite.
Displeasure pursed his lips briefly before he threw over his shoulder, ‘Then come.’
‘I’d rather talk before we eat,’ she said, knowing she couldn’t stand another minute of the cyclone of baffling sensations inside her.
He paused next to an exquisitely carved dining chair. ‘You find it a challenge to have a discussion at the dinner table? The chef has gone to a lot of trouble and apparently cooked some of your favourite dishes.’
Her eyes widened. ‘He has?’
Another flicker of enigmatic expression. ‘Indeed. You seem to create an impression wherever you go.’
He pulled out the chair, unwavering eyes drilling into hers.
Willow blew out an inner breath and joined him, his scent teasing her nostrils as he tucked her in. He leaned close and she heard his slow inhale, but when she looked up he was straightening.
He sat perpendicular to her, the view of the setting sun streaked with oranges, pinks and mauves too spectacular not to take full advantage of. The climate had turned progressively sultry on their approach into Asia, and the breeze washing pleasantly over her bare skin eased one of the many knots inside her.
Caught between the dynamic man next to her and the magnificent view, she furiously attempted to focus on the latter.
‘Wine?’ He plucked a Chevalier-Montrachet Chardonnay from a Baccarat cut-glass ice bucket, and held it poised over her glass.
Her father’s steep decline into alcohol dependence had made her wary of drinking around him. But he was a couple of thousand miles away.
And since she was taking a much-needed stance...
At her nod, he poured her a glass before his own. Then he reached over and lifted the silver cloche covering her dish. Willow’s eyes widened, her mouth salivating instantly as the smells wafted over her.
‘Oh, my God, that looks amazing.’ The cheeseburger looked like no cheeseburger she’d ever seen. Yes, the prerequisite ingredients were there—meat, cheese, bun. But just by looking, she knew it was superior. For starters, the yacht only stocked prime Wagyu beef and she’d seen the chef mince it himself. Just as she knew the cheese and truffles were flown directly from superior vendors in Europe.
‘I had the pickles placed on the side,’ Jario stated, not bothering to hide his outraged disdain.
‘Because you believe pickles don’t belong on a burger?’ she asked, fighting a smile as she tried not to reach too eagerly for the silver platter.
‘Exactly so. Pickles shouldn’t be allowed anywhere near prime beef, lobster and truffles.’
She’d resisted too hard, apparently, because with an air of impatience, he set the plate in front of her, then uncovered another bowl that held skinny golden fries, exactly the way she liked them. ‘Eat.’
She ignored the disgruntled order, her revived appetite too keen to be offended. Reaching for the juicy stack, she took a bite and groaned as heavenly flavours exploded on her tongue. ‘Oh...’
With her next mouthful, she snagged a slice of pickle with her fork and bit into it. The explosion of tartness combined with the richness of the burger and cheese was deeply delightful, dragging another groan. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
‘ Gracias , but I’ll pass.’ His bone-dry tone triggered amusement and she was smiling before remembering that this wasn’t a social event. That she and this man weren’t friends.
She froze when she saw his rapt, ferocious stare. ‘Umm...something wrong?’ she asked, after she swallowed.
His nostrils flared, his gaze remaining on her for several more seconds before he sat back and reached for his wineglass. ‘Let’s not invite indigestion by dwelling on things that are wrong.’ He nudged his square chin at her plate. ‘Continue.’
She was several more bites into her meal before he stopped staring and started his. Willow didn’t want to notice his voracious appetite or the way his jaw moved as he ate. The way he cradled his wineglass, twirling it almost absentmindedly between his fingers before each sip.
But she did. And it affected her just as potently as everything else about this man. So it was almost a relief to be done eating. To drain her own glass and refuse a refill—because bold emotional stance was one thing, reckless tipsiness quite another—and rise from the table.
Her very skin on fire from the seismic sensations and wild anticipation unfurling through her veins, Willow headed for the railing overlooking the darkening waters.
The sea had almost swallowed the sun, leaving an awe-inspiring vista.
But it was nothing compared to the man watching her every move, whose fixation on her ignited wilder heat. She knew the moment he rose, his silent approach crackling the very air until she couldn’t breathe without electricity vibrating along every stretch of her skin.
She’d expected him to join her, but he stopped just behind her. She didn’t turn around. Couldn’t . Her fingers curled around the railing, her breathing truncating as she heard him sip another mouthful of wine.
Just when she believed she’d expire from the insane rush of anticipation, one hand gripped the railing next to hers.
Close but not touching. A column of heat at her back.
‘ Dios mio , your scent is intoxicating,’ he rumbled almost peevishly. As if admitting it annoyed the hell out of him. ‘It drives me insane.’
Despite wanting to laugh, she bit her tongue, partly empathising. She wasn’t so swept up in her stormy feelings about her father’s lies and betrayal not to recognise that Jario was torn about any liaison with her.
The prospect of eventually ripping off the Band-Aid to examine her own feelings shook through her, congealing her insides.
Jario stepped closer, trailed his nose up her neck, lingering on the pulse at her throat. ‘You’re fired,’ he murmured, almost conversationally.
Another bewildering mix of excitement and apprehension swelled within her. ‘I’m aware.’
‘Which means you’re no longer allowed to stay in the crew quarters. I’ve had your things moved.’
Her eyes fixed on the churning water left in the wake of the powerful vessel, Willow tried not to react despite the stronger charge of emotion. ‘Have you? And where am I going to sleep?’
He didn’t answer immediately. She heard him take another sip of wine. ‘All in good time. I believe you owe me an answer.’
The combination of light breeze from the front and heat from his body made her light-headed. Or was it the power and effect of looming decision? ‘And my answer determines where I sleep, does it?’ Her voice was husky, heavy, pulsing emotion.
Several beats of silence passed. ‘Perhaps. I haven’t decided yet.’
The urge to face him, to gauge his emotions, pummelled her but some stronger instinct kept her from doing so. Because she needed to do this for herself, not be influenced by the hypnotic dynamism of the man standing behind her. Not to be swayed by the force of his willpower.
She’d already taken two life-changing steps today, accepted that there may be no salvaging the relationship with her father, and embraced her music. She could take a beat with the next one. Assess whether Jario wanted her for her instead of as a tool against her father.
Reassure herself that it would be worlds away from what she’d experienced with David.
Because it would be a simple, meaningless fling. Right?
‘Answer me, Willow.’ A bite of impatience in his voice accompanied the low rumble that echoed through her chest, then down through her body. ‘Will you stay?’
‘Yes. My answer is yes.’