Page 33 of Lust and Little White Lies

I finish my wine only to have my glass refilled again and again. By the time we devour our apple strudel and prepare to leave, I can tell I'm tipsy. Not fall down tipsy, but foggy-brained, chatty tipsy, my mouth flapping incessantly for the last hour.

We return to the ship, and I head to the lounge, not quite ready to retreat to my cabin. I slide onto one of the stools at the bar and look for Dane. He's on the other side of the bottle-filled open shelving. He sees me and says something to the couple sitting in front of him. Then he comes to my side of the bar, stopping a few yards away to mix a drink.

My body is warm and tingly as I watch him in his white dress shirt, gray vest, and black tie. He's so freaking handsome it's hard to look away. And his fingers look so agile as he skewers a slice of orange and a maraschino cherry that I can't help but wish he was touching me at this very moment—his fingers sliding deliciously across my flesh.

Dammit! I have to stop this. I have to. He's fucking driving me insane!I force myself to look away and run my hand over my mouth.Oh my God! I'm drooling.

I hang my head in googly-eyed shame.

"Peace offering." The silkiness in Dane's voice is like velvet across my skin.

I lift my head—my brain still slightly fuzzy—to see a drink on the counter.

"I made you a hurricane without triple the rum this time."

"Thanks, but why a peace offering?" I eye him warily as I sip the drink, which is surprisingly perfect this time.

"Because I've been kind of a jerk."

"A jerk? Most definitely. A liar? Absolutely. Who the fuck tells someone they're a co-owner of an international company when in reality, they're a bartender slash waiter on a cruise ship. I mean, who does that shit? Oh, wait. I know. Aliardoes that shit."

Dane stares at me, his arms crossing his chest, a stony expression replacing the smile that was there a moment ago. He looks past me as several people enter the lounge through the doorway next to me. Curious, I look over my shoulder. They're from the heuriger tour. Most continue walking through the lounge, taking seats in various places around the room. A small group occupies the seating area against the window behind me.

I shake my head and growl at Dane, "Oh, great. Doesn't that just make my night? Besides your lies, I get to have Jerry, the goddamn complainer, sitting behind me."

"I didn't lie." Dane's voice is low and bristling with irritation. "Not about my nationality or anything else. I have a hell of a lot more integrity than that."

"Really? Why the hell did you tell me you're British when you're Bulgarian?"

"My father is British, and my mother is Bulgarian," he grinds out. "Even though I was born in Bulgaria, I automatically became a British citizen because of my father. So I didn't lie."

"Okay, what about your occupation? Hmm? What international company do you own?"

"I can't tell you."

"Yeah, right. You can't tell me because it's some big secret. Let me see. You're a spy, that's it. Oh, wait. Even better. You're a criminal, incognito as a waiter, so you can cross borders undetected." I shake my head as I glare at him. "You're a liar.Admit it. You're like all the rest of the jerks that took advantage of me. I swear, if there's an asshole in the room, that's who I gravitate toward, and I don't know why. Shit! I can't even have a goddamn one-night stand without screwing it up. I was supposed to walk away and not look back, but I fucking like you, and I want you to touch me again. Fuck! I feel so stupid. I should be like my sister and be the person who does the using—the one who doesn't give a shit and walks away."

I suddenly go silent, my eyes widening as the lightbulb in my wine-fuzzy brain clicks on.Oh…my…fucking…God. Shut up. Now!I'm spewing verbal diarrhea and loads of it, the words streaming from my mouth.

"Are you going to wait on me or what?" Jerry yells from behind me. "I've been sitting here for twenty minutes trying to get your attention, and you're ignoring me. You're giving that woman special attention because she's pretty, and I can't even get a drink. And she shouldn't even be waited on. She needs to be banned from the ship. She attacked me! Where's your supervisor? I want to make a complaint."

Dane drags his gaze from mine and looks behind me. The muscle in his jaw is twitching, and he looks pissed.

But who is he pissed at? Me or the jerk behind me? I can't tell. Figuring I've already done irreparable damage and am responsible for Jerry the jerk's attack on Dane, I swivel in my chair and go for the gold medal.

"You fucking asshole. You need to shut the hell up. You've been sitting there for five minutes, not twenty. I didn't attack you. It was an accident. And, no, he's not giving me special attention. Look at him. Is that the face of a man who likes me and thinks I'm pretty? Is it? No, it's not. So get a fucking grip. The world doesnotrevolve around you." I slide off my barstool, grab my drink, and stiffly march from the lounge.

Fucking verbal diarrhea.

Chapter Ten

Dane

Dane stares at Brittany's retreating back as she marches through the lounge's sliding glass door. She berated him and verbally thrashed Jerry, her outbursts occurring within the span of a few minutes. She was like a whirlwind, making his head spin. But one thing Brittany said in her bizarre attempt to defend him from Jerry stuck in his mind.Look at him. Is that the face of a man who likes me and thinks I'm pretty? Is it? No, it's not.

Dane shakes his head, her words stinging him. If that was what she thought, she couldn't be more wrong.

Thinking the evening couldn't get any worse, Dane feels his ire shoot up a notch when Jerry quickly recovers, his angry, red-faced glare and wildly wagging finger directed his way.

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