The Billionaire Bundle Page 7

  “Who, the cruise director? Oh, I don’t think so. Michaela Western doesn’t really hate anyone. She just likes the job to get done. It’ll probably take a while to get used to. You have to learn to pace yourself. Don’t think you can go dancing until the wee small hours, then throw yourself into cheering on every activity on board and expect to be full of energy for the show, as well.”

  “Sure.” High energy was Dylan’s natural state of operation, although he had to admit his usual energy requirements didn’t include rehearsals and activities and two full-throttle dance shows every night. It wasn’t mental exhaustion giving him trouble, just physical demands his body hadn’t dealt with for many years.

  “You’ll get there. Set for tonight, though?” George asked, his eyes twinkling.

  Dylan nodded. Tonight’s show was a Broadway tribute, far less taxing than the cabaret numbers, thank goodness.

  The show opened, and the audience was as packed as the previous night, but this time Dylan’s nerves were jangling. When he got on stage, the movements didn’t come easily. He had to look at the other dancers to remember his cues, and he fumbled a few partnering moves with one of the Australian twins.

  “Watch it, you almost dropped me there,” she hissed.

  “Watch it yourself,” he whispered back.

  By the time the final curtain came down, Dylan was fuming, angry with both his stroppy partners and himself. He’d missed three cues and almost missed the turns on two of his duets.

  “Not such a superstar after all,” one of the twins said.

  “Happens when your ego gets too inflated. Bursts like a balloon and goes hissing all over the stage,” the other said.

  Dylan felt his expression darken. He’d always been driven to be the best he could. Boardroom or dressing room, it didn’t make any difference. “Well, perhaps if you didn’t keep me waiting for cues…”

  “Don’t worry, darlings.” George stepped in between them. “The audience didn’t even notice. Off you go, girls.”

  The twins stalked off, noses high.

  “Sorry, I…”

  George held up a hand. “You and I know you missed a cue, but hardly anyone in the audience even knows what a cue is, let alone whether you missed any of them. You have that rare gift, faking it till you make it.”

  Dylan tried not to let the alarm show on his face. He knows I lied my way into that audition.

  “You can swoop in and start dancing out of cue,” George continued, “but because you do it with such aplomb, everyone thinks you’ve started exactly where you should have.”

  Relief washed over Dylan. He didn’t fancy the fallout if people discovered that he had next to no formal training—especially on a night when he’d let himself and the other dancers down.

  “Now go to bed early, and don’t give yourself away so easily tomorrow. Those women will eat you alive if you let them.”

  “I thought I might go through tomorrow’s routine a couple of times first.”

  George gave him a careful look. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea. You need to rest.”

  “I know, and I will.” Dylan was suddenly determined. “I’ll get it soon enough. But I need it clear in my head, or I won’t sleep well.”

  “I guess we can’t have you tossing and turning,” George said.

  “And I just have to check in with Michaela—I mean, the cruise director—to see if I can be excused from anything tomorrow. My schedule today was almost twice everyone else’s.”

  “Good luck with that,” George said over his shoulder as he left the theater. “She’s not much of one for letting people get out of anything she wants them to do.”

  Dylan thought of how she’d melted under his kiss.

  Neither am I.

  Chapter Five

  “Someone paged me?”

  Michaela found Dylan rehearsing in the theater by himself, with the sweat from two shows shining on his skin and overpowering his usual soapy smell.

  He stopped moving, and she heard the strains of tomorrow’s show coming from a small CD player in the corner.

  “Hi,” he said. “I needed to ask you about the activity roster. But before that, I just need a partner for this part.” He took her hand and pulled her firmly into a spin.

  “Excuse me?” She allowed the incredulous tone sharpen her voice.

  “Seeing as you’re here…just for a second.”

  His dark smile held something indefinably attractive in it, but Michaela shook her head.

  “Just stand there. That’s it,” he said, ignoring her refusal.

  There wasn’t an opportunity to move as he leapt around her, pulling her into spins and then releasing her to eat up the stage with his grand jeté. She gave up trying to escape and enjoyed the spectacle of his muscles tightening and releasing, his long frame a perfect swath of movement through space.

  Thoughts of wrapping her own legs around that waist and running her hands over his broad, strong shoulders brought a quiver to Michaela. When the music finally stopped, she had to take a few deep breaths to stop herself from stammering her words.

  He walked to his bag and took a swig of water. “Thanks. Glad you didn’t mind being used like that.”

  Mind? Michaela ducked her head, hoping the blush wasn’t obvious.

  “I wanted to ask you a favor,” he said with a sly look.

  Michaela drew herself up, trying to cover her desire with officiousness. “You are familiar, aren’t you? You page me to come down here, which isn’t correct procedure with a superior, you drag me into your dance rehearsal and sweat all over me, and now you want a favor? You’ve got cheek, I’ll give you that.”

  His face turned stony. “I thought… I didn’t know about procedure. Would you like to sit down?”

  Dylan took her elbow and led her into the seating. Choosing a plush couch, he sat. With him still holding her elbow, she was forced to sit, too.

  Michaela watched him wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. Her hand almost reached for his towel to do it for him. The masculine face, neatly framed as it was now by his dark hair, just begged to be touched. Stroked. And those lips—a straight line on top but a full, cushiony pillow on the bottom—just begged to be kissed. Again.

  Stop it.

  Dylan pulled her out of her reverie. “I’m being run ragged, as George puts it. My full schedule, two shows a night, and all those women trying to get my attention…”

  She rolled her eyes at his robust ego, but he continued with apparent sincerity, “I don’t want to burn out on this first cruise. Wouldn’t help anyone.”

  Michaela bit her lip. His exhaustion was her fault. She shouldn’t be trying to punish him for getting in her head or for being so good-looking. If she was honest, her prickles at his breach of procedure came from the same source, too. While it wasn’t really done to page a superior officer to come to where you were, people did it all the time, and she didn’t mind when she wasn’t busy. “I can probably shift a couple of your activities onto someone else.”

  That was the professional thing to do. She was not doing it, she reassured herself, because she wanted him to like her.

  “Just like that?”

  “I’ll take you out of the children’s club.”

  “Oh.” His face fell, confusing Michaela. Wasn’t she doing exactly what he’d just asked?

  “It’s just that I really like the kids. There are a couple who look just like my nephews. They always remind me how to play properly.”

  Michaela fought hard to keep her surprise from showing. When she’d first started on the cruise ships, she’d loved being assigned to help out with the kids’ club for that very same reason. She’d forgotten about the feeling, putting that part of herself away as she’d risen through the ranks and started needing to appear more official.

  From under her eyelashes, she saw Dylan gaze down at her.

  “Knowing how to play is very important, wouldn’t you say?” Something dark and dirty rumbled in his voice. How could one m
an be so open one minute and then so…so filthy sexy? Could she…could she maybe practice the making babies part with him?

  Dear God, had she just thought that? Imagine what Felicity would say. What was wrong with her resolve?

  Her pause must have convinced him to retreat to safer waters. “You have kids?” he asked.

  She steeled herself to be professional, but she found she wanted to reply honestly, as she always seemed to with him. “I haven’t had the time to think about a relationship that might include children yet. It’s been a pretty hard slog to get here.”

  “I know. Women have a hard job getting to the top and staying there. It’s still pretty rare to find a woman at the head of a big multinational—or—” He seemed to stutter. “—or so I hear.”

  There he went again with his empathetic comments. There had to be a catch. Apart, of course, from the obvious fact that he was part of her staff, was completely inappropriate with his kisses, and would probably never earn enough money to keep his children in diapers.

  But he wasn’t strictly a member of her staff. He didn’t work in her office—he was really on George’s team.

  And George works for you. Stop it.

  Oblivious to her internal dialogue, he continued, “So no man has ever tried to convince you to leave all this and have kids?”

  “No one has even got close. My career is my priority, but…I don’t know. The biological reality is starting to close in. Even after I have kids, though, I want to keep my career going. I just don’t know what my next step would be after this.”

  Shut up. He doesn’t need to know all this.

  “You can’t be that old? Sorry, I guess I’ve asked you a couple of times, I’m just curious. How old are you?”

  He was definitely turning the charm on, and she couldn’t help feeling flattered. Michaela suppressed a smile. No way did he really think she was in her early twenties, but it was nice to be flirted with for a change. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

  “I’m older than you,” she said.

  His eyebrows shot up. “Get out.”

  “Thirty-four.”

  “Really? Man, you don’t look it, even with all the stress of this job. You must have good genes.”

  “Must do,” she said in a dry tone.

  “It’s strange how it’s so acceptable for women to be with older men, but society is less easy when it’s the other way round. I guess it’s got something to do with women maturing faster than men. An older man is on a more equal footing with a younger woman.” He said it smoothly, and instead of being annoyed at him spinning her a line, she was once again flattered that his attention brought with it more than just the superficial chatter she’d come to expect from her staff.

  As he spoke, Dylan seemed to slide closer along the theater couch toward her. Michaela tried to move away to keep a professional distance, but she was already at the edge of the couch, and the armrest blocked her escape.

  “I don’t think it’s really about who matures faster,” she said quickly. “I’ve met plenty of older men who are completely immature and some younger ones who seem to have more of a complete grasp on life than I do. I guess it’s just about life experience.”

  She wondered about Dylan’s life experiences. Being a dancer for years must have been interesting, if nothing else. All those beautiful women, their bodies finely tuned, their lives just one performance after another. They danced in front of her, and Dylan lifted them up one at a time, treating each of them to a passionate kiss. They spun around Dylan in her mind, taunting him, pleasuring him.

  Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, she chanted to herself, hoping to make the disturbing picture evaporate.

  “Life experience.” Dylan looked her full in the face, eyes smoldering. “So, do you consider yourself experienced?”

  That last line almost melted Michaela. She sensed a secret in him, something dark, perhaps a hurt that maybe, just maybe, needed healing.

  This must be the source of the attraction. It’s just my maternal instinct kicking into overdrive.

  She put a hand to her neck, wondering if she could heal this man.

  “You have a sore neck?”

  Michaela started to shake her head, then winced. Her neck was stiff.

  “I can fix that for you.”

  “No, no, it’s fine.”

  Dylan scooted across the final distance between them and placed his hands on her neck. “Turn around.”

  His voice was commanding, and he moved her so she sat between his legs, facing away from him. The seat was quite wide, allowing her to perch on the edge while he kept his back to the backrest. But her position was far from easy. She was too aware of his proximity, and especially of the muscled thighs on either side of her slender derriere.

  “It’s probably nothing,” she whispered. The heat from his hands did delicious things to her skin.

  “It’ll be from me throwing you around,” he said in her ear. “Dancers are always injuring themselves. I’ll fix you, though.”

  As his hands started to knead the tension out of her muscles, Michaela melted further. Of course, dancers were always giving each other rubdowns. She tried not to think about them turning erotic.

  But perhaps that was exactly what she needed. Maybe she really could relax her zero-personal-relations policy if she was very clear about it going no further. If it was just a bit of fun. He’d likely only be here for a few months. They were both consenting adults, and she already felt like she knew him better than people she’d worked with for over a year.

  “Oh, that’s great,” she said. The melting was spreading throughout her body now. Time seemed to drip away, turning to liquid just as easily as her aching muscles relaxed. She shut her eyes and let herself be carried away by the sensations. Caught up in the easy sway of the boat, the warm lighting of the stage, and his hands on her neck, she drifted.

  The mental picture she’d had of Dylan with all the different dancers returned to her mind, but this time instead of other dancers, it was her in his arms. The two of them swayed in time with the ship, blanketed by the music, part of the tune. In her mind, Dylan spun her out, and as he turned her back into his chest, he stroked the line of her jaw. Before she could say anything, he dropped her into a strong dip, holding her tightly, his face leaning over her.

  He smiled as he slowly brought her back up to vertical and kissed her as he had only yesterday. His real hands on her shoulders coupled with the picture of him in her mind brought a new warmth between Michaela’s thighs.

  A warmth that was spreading.

  Gently, gently, he pulled her closer to him until her back rested against the width of his chest.

  Oh, how warm. Dylan was delicious. Not only could he raise her temperature with just a touch, but he narrowed in on her insecurities and made her feel better about herself. He listened, he gave advice, and he truly seemed to grasp the difficult politics of her world. Without patronizing, he gave it to her straight. This man stirred her emotions with his talk of children and women’s successes. He understood her—understood her well enough to be more than just a fling.

  Even through her clothes, she could feel the contours of his muscles, feel the heat of his well-built frame. The tips of her breasts prickled, pushing themselves against the thin lace of her bra. Where his arms brushed her, she felt the thrill of desire starting to build.

  Dylan worked his way down her arms until he was massaging her hands. Their bodies now pressed together as one flesh, her back to his front. His fingers moved over her hands and down the tops of her thighs, drawing her back to him tightly. Her shoulders were completely relaxed, nestled into his chest, and she could feel tingling all along her arms where his fingers had rubbed at her skin. His breath was warm on her cheek, and she willed it closer.

  As if responding to her desire, he snuggled in, and his lips brushed the bottom lobe of her ear. “Better?” he asked, his voice thick. “A little more?”

  “Oh, much better, but
perhaps just a bit more,” she said, hoping her voice didn’t betray just how much more she wanted. But it seemed Dylan already knew, because his teeth nibbled delicately at her earlobe while his hands released her thighs and spread their strength over her soft stomach, almost spanning her whole waist. His palms radiated warmth, and she felt the thrill of the heat rush through her body.

  Hot. So hot.

  Just in time, she stopped herself from loosening a button to cool off.

  He rained a shower of tiny kisses over her neck, all the while practically purring his warm breath against her skin. A tiny moan remained trapped at the back of Michaela’s throat, and she arched her spine to fit more closely to his body.

  Against the relaxed cotton of his dance pants and through her tight pencil skirt, Michaela felt the firm contours of his erection pushing into the base of her back. A charge ran through her, bringing the heat from inside to boil along the entire surface of her skin. Her breasts now strained urgently against their soft lace prison, and her nipples were hard pebbles trying desperately to find a mouth to soften them.

  He must have sensed her need, because he turned her head, tipping it back and cupping her chin firmly in his hand. Looking into her eyes, Dylan pulled her face toward him, covering her lips with his. This time, the moan did escape, and Michaela whimpered into the warm recesses of his mouth.

  The kiss was everything his massage and her fantasy had promised. He was tender but firm as he pulled her closer. Michaela’s hands went to his perfect chest. The tongue teasing her mouth open was hot and hungry, and Michaela opened her mouth wider to let it in. It was a completely different kiss from yesterday’s. That kiss had been hard and eager. This was soft and rich and deep and oh… Another moan escaped her.

  Was kissing always like this? She tried to remember.

  No, it can’t possibly have been this good.

  Dylan stroked her neck and nibbled her bottom lip, causing a new run of shivers to light up her body. No, never like this.

  Too soon, he drew his head away, his beautiful eyes full of passion. His hands moved to her torso, and she became properly aware that she was sitting sideways in his lap, his erection brushing against the outside of her thigh.