Skandalis wasn’t dancing with a different partner! This gal’s hair was bottle-black and her strapless, red sequined gown gaped open above wrinkly boobs that didn’t do it justice.
He must’ve felt her temper flaring, because this time Aric guided her to the edge of the dance floor and then twirled her into the crook of his arm. So she couldn’t run up and claw out the captain’s laughing eyes, obviously.
“It’s Skorpio’s obligation,” her escort spoke soothingly into her ear. Still holding her in that clinch, he lifted a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray. “Those ladies have paid extra for the privilege of the captain’s company tonight. Most of them are longtime friends. Rich widows who cruise just for something to do.”
“Which he knew about before he stood me up, right?”
Lola tossed back half her champagne, nearly choking on its intense fizz. She didn’t ask if any of those bejeweled beauties were once the captain’s love slaves. Didn’t such a harem speak for itself—and for Skorpio’s priorities?
And here he came now, sauntering up to the dessert buffet—but of course taking time to squeeze and kiss the ladies who fawned over him along the way. Served him right to have three different colors of lip prints on his cheek.
Taking champagne from the table, Skandalis bowed elegantly. “To the most beautiful woman in this room,” he crooned as he clinked his glass to hers. “Miss Wright, you astound me, the way you’ve appeared here like a goddess in—”
“This is quite the emergency you’re tending to!” she rasped.
Captain Scandalous chuckled seductively. “I got called to a fire, my dear. You see how it is with me? So many flames—so little time to fan them all!”
And before she could reply, the arrogant Greek quaffed his bubbly, grinned devilishly—and strode to the end of the table with his arms open wide, to where the next flame was wagging her finger at him.
“Fire, my ass!” she muttered at his retreating backside. “Those old broads could start a weenie roast with their hot flashes! And I hope yours gets torched!”
Aric let out a loud laugh, but squelched it when some of the people around him turned to stare. “I can see now why the captain requested a companion for you, Miss Wright. He really wanted a bodyguard for himself.”
“Yeah, well, if he’d behave like a gentleman—follow through on his promise—I’d mind my manners, too.”
Lola realized then that her fist was planted in her hip and she was tapping her foot: Skandalis had taken his new partner in a clinch and was cheek-to-cheek in a tango position so close they were making love through their clothes. He was obviously going to bait her all evening; had no intention of dancing the night—or even part of a song—away with her, by the looks of the glittering, silver-haired entourage that cheered him on from the punch fountain.
She snagged another glass of champagne and downed half of it in a gulp. It was getting easier to do that.
“I appreciate your being such an understanding escort, Aric,” she said. Her voice was getting as slurred as her thoughts, but what did that matter? “I’m gonna sit the rest of them out. I don’t exactly feel like dancing anymore.”
“But Miss Wright, you’re the—”
“And knock it off with the ‘Miss Wright’ thing, OK?” she muttered. “Bad enough that Captain Scandalous is making me feel like such a wall flower, without feeling old enough to be your mother, as well.”
“You think I’d dress this way for my mother?” he countered, turning her chin with his finger. “We might as well enjoy—”
“You talk a good line, Aric, but you’re being paid to be my keeper, right?” Lola sighed, gently smoothing his lime-striped tie back into place. “I’m guessing any number of young ladies on this ship would love to be with you. So why don’t I just go back to my suite, and you can spend the rest of your evening—”
“Nice try, Priestess. Shall we sit over here for awhile?”
With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Lola traded her empty flute for another full one and allowed him to steer her toward a small table in the rear. Even after chugging bubbly, her spirits were deflating. Why was she feeling like a misfit at a middle school dance? So damn disappointed because the captain had snubbed her—when Cabana Boy here was trying his damnedest to show her a good time.
Sheesh, if she were with Dennis, he’d be schmoozing at the bar or working the room for new clients in this moneyed crowd, because dancing had never been his thing. Not even a simple slow dance like the one they were playing now—while Skandalis gazed haughtily into the enamored eyes of his third partner since he’d walked away from her.
Lola sighed forlornly. Instead of making her giddy, the booze was taking her down with the sheer exhaustion of this long, stressful day. Damn shame to be all tricked out but ready to bury herself in bed. Alone.
God, she wanted a cigarette. When she realized she was holding the stem of her empty champagne glass in the fork of her fingers, she shoved it away. Damn that Dennis! This was all his fault!
The orchestra struck up a sultry Latin introduction, and Lola could not watch Captain Skandalis faux-fornicate to another tango. “Look, I’ve got to use the little girls’—”
Damned if Aric didn’t stand up, like he planned on going with her!
And then a hand landed on her shoulder and a soft voice murmured, “May I have the honor of this dance, Lola mia? I requested this song just for you.”
Was she dreaming, or had every head swiveled at the raw longing in that voice? She turned to find Rio DeSilva smiling at her, within kissing distance, his Spanish eyes glowing golden-brown in the low light. He stuffed a folded bill into Aric’s pocket. And when her warden didn’t take the immediate hint, the security agent dismissed him with a pointed stare.
No dialog. No king-of-the-jungle guy games. Aric simply headed for the exit.
What was it about this man DeSilva? Oh, it didn’t hurt that his ivory tux and that black shirt with the tab collar rendered him fatally attractive…enough of a rebel bad-ass to make Lola suck in her breath as she returned his gaze. When those eyes wandered down to her lips, she licked them, wondering if her lipstick had held up through all that champagne.
His sigh sounded hungry.
Lola blinked, aware that Rio’s warm hand still rested on her shoulder, and that the orchestra had slithered into a seductive rendition of “Whatever Lola Wants.” Her mother used to ham up the lyrics of this song when she was a kid, acting like the spoiled princess she was…whatever Lola wants, Lola gets….
She smiled. Swallowed. The willowy black singer in strapless red sequins crooned the opening line into her mike—surely a blatant message to Captain Scandalous, who would not be dancing this one with her. Rio’s hand slipped down to the small of her back, and as he escorted her toward the dance floor, her pulse galloped.
This man was not her mother, nor was he hamming it up to humor her. Rio DeSilva knew exactly what Lola wanted, and he intended to give it to her. Maybe right here on the dance floor.
The brief flicker of that fantasy made her blink. Made her think, before she succumbed
