guess you didn’t need our help after all,” Kyle said with a laugh. He lowered his voice. “Those condoms are in the small inner pocket of your duffel bag...in case you were wondering.”
Yeah, he had wondered. “Are you guys going into Jamaica?”
“Yeah,” Kyle answered. “You think you can tear yourself away from your new friend long enough to hang with your old friends once we get to the Bahamas?”
He really wanted to spend as much time with Karen as possible since they had limited time together. However, even though they worked together, he had neglected his friendship with Kyle and Troy, and they did pay for the cruise. “Yeah, man.”
They said their goodbyes, and Damian continued to his room. Once there, he showered and crawled into bed. An hour later, he lay awake with thoughts of Karen filling his head. Where was she from? What did she do? Did she feel the chemistry between them as strongly as he did? He planned to get the answers to those questions and more. Turning over, he made himself comfortable and closed his eyes. Morning couldn’t come soon enough.
* * *
Karen untangled herself from the sheets and groaned. Another dream. Her pulse raced, and her breathing came in short gasps. It was the second one she’d had tonight, and seemed so real she would swear Damian lay beside her with his lips pressed against the hollow of her neck. She hadn’t been able to get his kisses out of her mind, or the feel of his hands sliding over her bare back and hips.
Scooting off the bed, she went into the bathroom and splashed some water on her face in an effort to cool off. She walked back into the room, opened the curtain slightly and leaned against the door frame. The sun had already begun its ascent, breaking through the early gray morning with streaks of red, orange and pink. Her mind lingered over every detail since she had met Damian, from their flirting at the pool and the uncertainty in his voice when he asked her out, to his solicitous manner during the concert and the possessive way he’d held her while his mouth plundered hers.
She wanted him. Bad. So much that she had invited him into her room last night, something she would never do with a man she’d just met. Maybe the effects of the alcohol she’d consumed had lowered her inhibitions. No. It was the man, plain and simple. But he hadn’t accepted her invitation, and Karen wondered why, when he clearly seemed to be as into her as she was into him, not to mention the huge erection she’d felt pressed against her belly.
Maybe she had read more into what was happening between them, or maybe he thought her too aggressive. She sighed softly. Whatever the case, she needed to apologize. She didn’t want Damian to think she made a habit of inviting strange men into her room.
Pushing away from the sliding glass door, Karen went to get ready for breakfast. She dug out her black swimsuit. The sexy cutout one-piece had crisscrossing straps across the back, but aside from that, left her back and sides bare, and tied at the hips. She put it on and slipped into a black crochet cover-up. Grabbing her tote, she added her waterproof camera, a change of clothes, towel, comb, brush and wallet, then sat on a chair to fasten the straps on her flat sandals. She picked up the tote and room key and left.
Karen searched the dining room for Damian and spotted him waving. She started in his direction, then halted her steps when he came toward her wearing a black tank exposing his strong muscular shoulders and arms, black swim trunks and sandals. An involuntary moan slipped from her lips. The man exuded masculinity in waves. It would be harder than she thought to keep her desire under control. As she came closer, his gaze traveled over her, stopped at her breasts and then slid lower, just below her stomach. His eyes darkened with desire, sending a rush of heat directly to her core.
“Morning,” Damian said, dipping his head to kiss her cheek.
His soft, warm lips lingered on her cheek, and a shiver passed through her. “Good morning. Have you been waiting long?”
“No. Just a few minutes.” He led her to the table. “Why don’t you leave your bag here and go fix your plate? I’ll get mine when you come back.”
“Okay.” Karen surveyed the buffet and filled her plate with a small amount of scrambled eggs, potatoes with onions and peppers, two strips of crisp bacon and a slice of toast, then got a glass of orange juice. She placed her plate on the table, and Damian shook his head. “What?”
“That’s all you’re eating?”
She glanced down at the plate. “Yes, why?”
“I can still see half of your plate.”
“I may go back for more.”
He nodded, leaned down close to her ear and whispered huskily, “By the way, you’re killing me with that outfit. Makes me want to cancel the tour.” His mouth curved in a wicked grin, he winked and walked off.
The timbre of his voice and accompanying look turned her legs to jelly. Karen managed to pull out her chair and drop down in it before she collapsed. She fanned herself and took a long sip of juice.
Damian returned to the table with his plate piled high—French toast, scrambled eggs, potatoes, bacon, sausage and fruit.
“You can go back for more, you know. That’s why they call it a buffet.”
He paused with the saltshaker in his hand. “What? I don’t have that much.”
“Whatever you say,” she said with a laugh, and forked up a portion of potatoes.
He wiggled his eyebrows. “I have a healthy appetite. What can I say?”
Her belly fluttered with the double meaning. She propped her chin in her hand and leaned forward. “So do I.”
“That’s good to know,” he murmured.
* * *
Damian tried to concentrate on his breakfast. Their verbal exchange, combined with the revealing black cover she wore over her bathing suit, had him hard as a steel beam and he was tempted, once again, to drag her to the nearest bed and find out just how healthy of an appetite she had. He had never engaged in this type of sensual play with his late wife—she had been very reserved when it came to sex. But he knew things would be different with Karen. He sensed a passion and fire in her that he eagerly wanted to explore. He forced his thoughts elsewhere and finished breakfast.
“Are you ready to head out?” he asked when her plate was empty.
“Yes.”
He stood, slung his backpack over his shoulder and helped Karen. More than one man turned when she walked by. Damian moved closer and placed a possessive hand on the small of her back. Sending a lethal glare at one man who was staring a little too long, he guided her toward the ship’s exit.
The ship’s coordinator checked off their names, gave them colored wristbands and directed them to a waiting van.
“Damian,” Karen started, once they were en route, “I want to apologize about last night.”
“For what?”
“The whole room invitation thing. I’ve never done anything like that before,” she mumbled, and turned to stare out the window.
He turned her face back toward his. “You don’t have to
