Burn

On cue, Faith approached Tiffany, putting her arm around Tiff’s shoulders and softly talking to her. Tiffany started crying, real tears dripping down her cheeks – how in hell did she do that? –  and Faith finally led her out of the bar. Silence spread around them. Then Ryan limped up to Cael, concern in his eyes. Ryan was a hell of an actor, too. He did have a limp, but a very slight one. When he was in public, though, he always exaggerated it because that was part of his persona, and Cael had never, not once, seen him forget. "That was nice of you to give her your stateroom," Ryan said, just loud enough that everyone around them could hear what he was saying.

Cael shrugged. "I could hardly toss her out, could I?" He and Ryan automatically positioned themselves so Jenner was blocked, with no way to slide past them. She looked so frustrated he had to fight to control a grin.

"There was a mix-up on our suite," continued Ryan, "and we have a two-bedroom instead of one. You’re welcome to take the other room, if you like."

"Much obliged. But first I’ll check to see if another stateroom is available. Have you heard if the cruise is sold out?"

Ryan shrugged. "I haven’t heard. But if there isn’t, you can definitely stay with us. I’ve already cleared it with Faith, so don’t think she wouldn’t like it." He switched his gaze to Jenner, smiling. "What a way to start the cruise, huh?"

"With a bang," she said a bit sharply, once more trying to slide sideways around them.

Ryan reached out and took hold of her elbow, holding her in place. "Have you two actually met, or were you just caught in the explosion?"

"No, we haven’t met," Cael said before Jenner could respond. The less she had to improvise, the better.

"That makes the whole scene even more ridiculous, doesn’t it?" Ryan said with a rueful laugh, man to man. "Jenner Redwine, this is Cael Traylor."

"Pleased to meet you," said Cael, extending his hand. The brief flash in her eyes said she’d rather touch a cobra, but she held out her hand and he took it, keeping his touch gentle but holding on longer than he should have. Her fingers were slim and cool, her skin soft, and despite everything she firmly gripped his hand in return. She looked up at him, and for a brief moment their gazes locked. He kept his expression blank, but that one glance was enough to see the rebellion brewing in her. He needed to get her out of here, and fast.

He and Ryan talked awhile longer, making things look normal for the people who were still standing with their heads half-cocked to hear what was being said. He thanked Ryan again for the offer of their extra bedroom. Finally he turned and retrieved Jenner’s drink from the bar, as well as the Ghostwater he’d ordered. It was a potent combination of Grey Goose vodka, absinthe – the real stuff – and a couple of other things. He wouldn’t have touched one on a bet, but hundreds of people were sipping the foggy drink as if it were water.

He looked at the Ghostwater, grimaced, and set it aside. "That was for Tiffany," he said to Jenner. "She’d had one already, and insisted on having another. That’s how I knew they hit hard and fast."

She nodded, but didn’t reply. That was good. The less she talked right now, the better. All he needed was for her to follow his lead.

He glanced around the bar. The music was playing again, and most people had returned to their own conversations. He nodded to a couple of people he recognized, then said, "Let’s get out of this crowd and walk. I could use some exercise."

"You two go on," said Ryan. "I’ll see how Faith is doing getting Tiffany settled."

The Lido deck was too crowded for any kind of real walking, plus he wanted to get Jenner mostly alone, so they took the stairs. In short order Jenner found herself strolling beside Cael on the sports deck, which was mostly empty. They didn’t talk; she stared straight ahead as she marched along, as if she were in the military and had to walk a fifteen-minute mile. He caught her arm and pulled her to a slower pace. "You look like you’re trying to run away from me."

"Imagine that," she said sarcastically. Oh, yeah, she had a mouth on her. The bad thing was, every time he looked at her he liked that mouth more and more.

"Think of your friend," he replied without inflection, but lowering his voice even more. Sound carried on the wind, and up here the breeze caused by the ship’s movement was brisk. It blew her hair back and plastered her clothes against her body. Good wind, he thought, admiring the shape of her small breasts. She shivered, rubbing her hands over her bare arms and coincidentally shielding those breasts from his view.

"I am thinking of her," she snapped. "That’s the only reason I haven’t pushed you overboard."

"Then you’d better think harder, because you’re doing a piss-poor job of selling the idea that we’ve got a thing going."

"Who am I selling it to? There’s no one up here," she retorted. That was mostly true. There were a few people walking around, couples, and one man standing by himself and breathing through a cigarette. Cael recognized him as Dean Mills, the head of Larkin’s personal security detail. Had he just come up here for a smoke, or had Larkin sent him? Regardless, this had to look real.

"I decide when you need to sell it, not you. And I’m telling you to sell, now." He swung her around to face him, not quite touching, but close. Startled, she looked up at him, and something in him seized, frozen, as for a split second he imagined her looking up at him just this way when he pulled her beneath him. Ruthlessly he shoved the idea away. There was no place for shit like that in this job. Nevertheless, they had to make this appear real. He looked down at her for a long moment, then moved his hands to her waist and pulled her full against him. "Kiss me like you mean it," he ordered, and bent his head to hers.