Bedroom Seductions. Nicola Marsh
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woman crowbarred into a purple leotard stood toe to toe with Zac, hands planted on ample hips.
‘Ever since I set foot on this tub things have gone wrong. The air-conditioning in my cabin didn’t work, the balcony door jammed, the incompetent waiters mixed up my dinner, the dance instructor was called away at the last minute only to be replaced by the likes of you, and now this. What next?’
Another woman stepped forward, her rake-thin body clad in designer gear—the type you don’t sweat in—her coiffed blonde hair far too perfect for such an early hour of the morning.
‘I’m surprised, Mr McCoy. In my day a PR man knew how to handle life’s little dramas such as this. In fact, he was paid to promote the delights of cruising. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to be earning your wage at all. I would even say you’re rather incompetent.’
Oh-oh. The situation had turned from tense to downright ugly in the space of two minutes, and Lana felt sorry for him, wanting to help but unwilling to interfere.
Before he could utter a word, the designer dame jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. ‘I presume you know who I am, Mr McCoy?’
He nodded, his lips set in a grim line but his confident aura firmly in place. Lana had glimpsed the same unflappable Zac last night, after the kiss, when she’d slammed her barriers back in place and taken her anger out on him.
‘Not only do Mr Rock and I contribute handsomely to this particular shipping line, our personal recommendations go a long way to securing promotions for staff onboard. Personally, I’m having a hard time finding any worthy staff on this ship.’
She punctuated the air with short, sharp jabs of her hand, lending weight to every word.
‘And, furthermore, I recommend you rectify this farce as soon as possible.’
She spun around and sailed out of the room like the Queen Mary, majestic, impressive, unstoppable.
Nobody deserved to be publicly berated like that and, taking in Zac’s tense posture and clenched jaw, Lana felt for him.
She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of criticism like that—had faced it eight weeks earlier, when she’d appealed to the museum’s CEO to let her be the spokesperson on the Egypt trip.
The result? If her self-confidence hadn’t been much to start with, it had been non-existent after that meeting, when he’d told her in no uncertain terms she wasn’t ‘the face the museum is looking for’.
Apparently she was too reserved, too serious, too conservative. All perfectly legitimate qualities in a head curator, but not good enough to front TV cameras and reporters at the digs of their newest discovery. That honour had gone to her trainee, a woman with a bigger mouth, bigger boobs and a bigger wardrobe than her.
It had hurt. A lot. A whole damn lot.
She was brilliant at her job; it was the one thing that made her feel good about herself. Little wonder her limited self-esteem had plummeted as a result, and she needed this trip to give it a boost in the right direction.
Battling the sting of bitter tears threatening to complete her humiliation that day in the CEO’s office, she’d vowed to gain confidence and never be overlooked for a work opportunity again.
After that kiss last night she’d taken a huge backward step, retreat being her best form of defence.
But now she possessed skills to help Zac out. Maybe she could take another baby step forward? What better way than taking a class she’d been trained to do?
She taught at the museum all the time, instructed students and peers alike, and it was the only time she never felt selfconscious in front of a group. She enjoyed teaching, enjoyed imparting skills to others, so why not here, now?
Clenching and unclenching her hands several times, she shook them out, wishing she could shake off her nerves as easily.
Tension clawed at her tumbling tummy, and she inhaled in and out, long, slow breaths, to clear her head and give her clarity of thought.
Maybe not such a good idea, as the more she thought about it the more she wanted to bolt for the safety of her cabin. But hiding away wouldn’t improve her confidence.
It was now or never.
With a last deep indrawn breath, she marched towards Zac. ‘Could I have a word with you?’
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as a low rumbling resumed through the gym. It was the first time he’d appeared faintly rattled. ‘Now isn’t the time.’
‘I can help. I’m a qualified fitness instructor. I can take this class right now, if you want me to.’
‘You’re a fitness instructor?’
He made it sound as if she was a space cadet, and his assessing gaze swept over her. Yeah, as if her outfit made any difference to her credentials.
‘You really want to do this?’
‘I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.’
Relief eased the tension in his face, his lips kicking into a mischievous grin. ‘Does it mean I’ll owe you?’
She almost ran at that point, the memory of that sexy smile seconds before he’d kissed her all too fresh as she focussed on his lips.
‘You won’t owe me a thing.’
‘Oh, but I will.’
Heck, how had this turned from her doing him a favour to having him in her debt?
With that beguiling smile and heat smouldering in his eyes, she was floundering out of her depth more than ever.
‘Look, just forget it—’
‘Go ahead and take the class. Once you’re done, drop by my office.’
He straightened, brisk and businesslike, and she wondered if she’d imagined the loaded exchange a moment ago.
‘Okay.’
As she turned away he laid a hand on her arm. Her skin burned despite the innocuous touch.
‘One more thing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Just so you know—I always pay my debts.’ He paused, his disarming smile capable of tempting a saint. ‘And I fully intend making good with you.’
While her tongue glued itself to the roof of her mouth, his eyes glittered with clear intent before he released her and walked away.
Lana tucked strands of frizz into her bristling ponytail, all too aware she was fighting a losing battle as she stared at her flushed face covered in a perspiration sheen. The polished brass nameplate on the door to Zac’s office was as highly effective as a mirror—too effective—and she belatedly realised she should’ve ducked down to her cabin before presenting herself here.
When he’d said he’d see her after the class he wouldn’t have anticipated a bedraggled, scraggly mess arriving at his office. Then again, it wasn’t as if she was trying to impress him. The opposite, in fact. The sooner he realised he couldn’t charm her like every other woman on the planet, the easier her life would be. Even if a small part of her would miss his banter.
She knocked and waited for a ‘come in’ before pushing the door open. The sight that greeted her snatched the breath from her lungs.
She’d seen his many faces—sailor Zac, resplendent in uniform, dancing Zac, dinner companion Zac—yet the sight of him behind a desk, scrawling across a daily planner with one hand, tapping a keyboard with the other, issuing instructions into a hands-free phone all the while, had her grabbing the door to steady her wobbly knees.
Here was a guy in control—a guy who could do anything he set his mind to. He made multi-tasking look easy, and when he glanced up and smiled a welcome she had to steel her resolve, for executive