2. Brock

CHAPTER 2

brOCK

H ow the hell did Dad get me to agree to this?

Oh, right. Guilt .

It's been a hell of a long time since I've spent any time with him. Or Mom. Or, honestly, the rest of our family and friends.

Work is my comfort. It keeps me focused. When I let that focus go, things I try to keep hidden away manage to claw their way to the surface. Being alone with my thoughts means risking being plunged into the nightmares from my military past.

And now, I'm going to have to spend nearly every waking moment with the one person who threatens that focus—Emma Parker.

Dammit, I've wanted her from the moment Dad brought her into my office.

Everything about her pulls me in. Long, tanned legs. Sexy hourglass figure. Innocent, green eyes framed by wavy blonde locks. Before we even arrived on board today, her sweet, soft, scent teased my senses like the whispers of a fresh ocean breeze. She's like a siren, luring me into dangerous waters.

I've learned to keep my distance, afraid of what might happen if I let myself get too close. I've always kept her at arm's length, professional and detached. Sure, I may be hard on her, even if it kills me to do so. It's for her own good. She doesn't need a man who's twice her age and screwed up in the head drooling over her.

So what do I do now that I'm stuck with her on this goddamn ship? What if all my efforts to maintain control slowly slip away?

I down a scotch in the lounge while I watch Emma sip on a white wine spritzer. Damn, I wish I was that straw.

Soon that much-too-young, much-too-taut, way -too-perfectly-smiling kid Angel informs us our cabin…okay, "suite" would be more accurate…is ready and offers to escort us there. I quickly send him on his way and tell him we can find it ourselves.

That kid's on my shit list.

I'm sure he made that crack about Emma being my daughter on purpose. I'm not stupid. I noticed how he looked at her.

I notice how every man looks at her.

"Holy crap! This is a palace!" Emma exclaims when she sees the penthouse suite. Then she claps her hands over her mouth, her eyes darting to me. "Sorry," she says, her words muffled.

I can't help but chuckle at her reaction. I often forget Emma wasn't fortunate or privileged enough to grow up with this kind of luxury. Her honesty is refreshing. She's right: the main room is massive, done in a modern style, with rich wood accents, soft, ambient lighting, and plush fabrics. Not bad for a big boat.

And the views are amazing.

Emma has the adjoining suite, and as she walks through the connecting door, letting out another yelp of delight, I wonder how I'll sleep knowing she's just on the other side of that wall.

God help me…

I head to my closet, expecting to see my luggage all unpacked for me. Except it's not there. Not one bag. Not even the one with my laptop in it.

I check the entire suite, but still can't find it.

"Emma!" I say, knocking at the adjoining room door.

"Coming!" I hear from the other side. Then she opens it and pokes her nose in. "Yes?"

"My luggage isn't here."

"What? Are you sure?"

"I think I'd know."

Her gaze sweeps over the room. "This place is pretty big. It could easily get lost somewhere."

I level a steely gaze at her, hoping it conveys that this is no time for jokes.

It does.

"Okay, okay. Let me contact Angel and?—"

"No, no… I'll call him." I don't need that kid to have another opportunity to ogle Emma—or to make any moves on her.

When she furrows her brow, it's downright adorable. She takes a deep breath. "Brock, please. Let me handle it. It's the least I can do after the…you know…phone incident."

The mortification in her eyes makes me want to pull her into my arms. It almost makes me forget that my laptop isn't here, too. Almost.

"All right. I'll let you figure it out." I pause. "In the meantime, there's a wine tasting happening on deck in thirty minutes. They said there'll be food, and I could use a bite to eat. Why don't you join me?"

A pretty smile spreads over her face. "Really? I'll be ready in five minutes!" she says with a jump, and closes the door.

I nod at the door, hoping she didn't hear my heart beating out of my chest just now. I'm not used to getting that kind of reaction to an invitation. Or anything, for that matter.

"You have twenty!" I call out, chuckling.

As the sun sets, the sky is a kaleidoscope of purples, pinks, and oranges, the last light of the day slipping the top deck into shadows. Emma and I stand at a high table, the rich aroma of red and white wine filling the air, competing with the salty breeze. I try to focus on the sommelier as she describes the subtle nuances of the wines we're sampling, but my mind keeps wandering to the enchanting woman beside me.

The one I have no business thinking about the way I do.

Emma is a vision in her sweet sundress, the color mirroring the golden hour all around us. Her blonde hair dances in the gentle ocean breeze, and her eyes sparkle with delight as she observes the other guests with keen curiosity.

She's always been captivating, but this evening, with the soft light caressing her features, I'm having a hard time keeping my hands to myself.

She takes a sip of wine, her pink lips forming a pleased smile. "This is lovely," she murmurs, her eyes drifting closed as she allows the flavors to spread over her taste buds. I do the same, letting the wine dance on my tongue.

She takes another sip, this time a larger one, and I notice her shoulders relaxing, her movements becoming more languid. I realize she might be getting slightly tipsy. Cute. She's usually so poised and put together; it's endearing to see her let loose, even if just a little.

I like this side of her.

"This cabernet is particularly good, isn't it," I remark, leaning closer and swirling my glass.

"Mmm-hmm," she agrees, her eyes meeting mine briefly before she looks away, a delicate blush spreading across her cheeks.

My body reacts instantly, her delicate perfume—a blend of jasmine and sea salt—making my head spin.

Christ. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take.

When we finish tasting the last wine, I'm actually thankful. But as we turn to go, Emma stumbles, and I rush to catch her from behind. "Woah!" She grabs onto me, as I hold her upright. Having her in my arms is much too tempting. My body sparks alive.

"Are you all right?" I ask, my voice a low rasp.

She nods, her eyes sheepish as they find mine. "Just a little dizzy. Probably too much wine on an empty stomach. We never did have any of the snacks." Her voice is soft, slightly unsteady.

"You could be a little seasick, too. It tends to get worse when you're dehydrated or drinking."

"Really? I never knew," Emma replies.

"Yeah. Let's get you back to the suite," I say near her ear. She shivers. "You cold?" I ask, rubbing her bare arms a few times to warm her up.

Emma's eyes widen with surprise, but she doesn't move out of my grasp. I know I'm overstepping. Touching her too much for a boss. But I do want to make sure she's not cold.

Yeah. Let's go with that.

"I'm warmer now. Thanks," she says, smiling up at me.

Lord help me…

"Good," I whisper, and before I can do something completely inappropriate, I lead her through the winding ship corridors. She holds my bicep and forearm in her small, delicate hands, and damn if I don't enjoy her relying on me like this. Using me to hold her up.

I gently guide her into my suite and over to the sofa. We sit beside each other, our knees almost touching.

"I'm going to show you a trick I learned for nausea. Give me your wrist."

Without hesitation, she presents her wrist to me, palm up, and I take it in my hands, my thumb quickly finding the pressure point. I rub my thumb in a small circular motion, trying not to think about how soft her skin is or the way her pulse is racing.

I watch her face carefully for any sign of discomfort, but in less than a second a look of relief spreads across her face, and her eyes drift shut.

"Wow. That works really well. I have no idea how, but it does."

I chuckle. "I'm glad. It's the nei guan point."

"I'm sorry?"

" Nei guan . It's Chinese. Also known as the P6 point. Acupressure."

She hums. "Where did you learn about this?"

"Just something I picked up from spending time on my yacht. It comes in handy."

"You have a yacht?"

I huff out a laugh. "I do. I guess you wouldn't know, since I haven't used it in ages. I used to take clients and business acquaintances on short trips, just afternoon things mostly. But my family and I used to have a lot of fun on Flathead Lake in the summers before I… Well, it was a long time ago."

She nods, perhaps wanting to say something, but I just barrel on. "There's another point, zu san li , that can help if you're feeling queasy."

She opens her eyes and looks at me. "And where is that?"

"Below your knee. May I?"

She pulls her dress up slightly, exposing her knees. Why that is the sexiest thing I've ever seen? I slide my fingers into place just below her knee, hoping she doesn't feel my hand trembling, and apply medium pressure as I rub circles there.

She watches me curiously, her breath turning a little ragged.

"Any better?" I murmur. I allow myself the briefest moment to risk enjoying this closeness, the warmth of her skin, the scent that is uniquely hers.

She doesn't seem to mind. She meets my gaze and her throat bobs as she swallows. "Much," she replies, her voice rougher than normal. It hits me right in the groin. Is she as turned on as I am?

Okay, that's quite enough of that …

I stand, realizing what I might do if I don't pull away right the fuck now. "Come on. Fresh air is good for seasickness, too."

I help her up and we slowly walk to the balcony. I stand a little nearer to her than I should as we lean on the railing, taking in the breathtaking view of the starry night sky.

"Focus on the horizon," I instruct, my voice a murmur. "Where the moonlight shines on the waves, as far as you can see."

Emma shivers again and I can't help it, I move in closer and wrap an arm around her. It might be my wishful thinking—she's probably just cold—but she leans into me.

We stand together like that, just listening to the lapping of the waves and the background hum of people chattering on the ship's various decks. It feels good. Really good. It feels right , having her this close to me.

She turns slightly to look at me, and when her green eyes meet mine it's as if I'm drowning in her, a sensation that both terrifies and excites me.

I've managed my PTSD well up till now, but Emma's presence threatens to tip the scales out of balance. The walls of my fortress of discipline are cracking.

I know I can't keep resisting this feeling much longer. Especially now, stuck together in this luxurious prison. Maybe it's time to let go of my control, if only for a short while, and explore this bewildering attraction.

"Brock," Emma says, biting her lush lower lip. "I... I have a confession."

My heart pounds. Could she be feeling it, too?

"What is it, Emma? I'm all ears," I say, willing myself to stay calm, preparing myself to hear whatever bombshell she's about to drop.

"Your luggage...it's…it's lost," she finally says, averting her eyes and ducking her chin.

Oh.

My luggage. I'd completely forgotten about it. "It's fine. These things happen."

"But—" Her lovely, wide eyes are so worried. "I can't stop thinking about it, and?—"

"I'll manage," I assure her.

"I can ask Angel to bring you some pajamas. I'm sure people forget things all the time. I'll send him a message now," she offers, her voice laced with concern.

I shake my head, my lips twitching at the thought. "No need. I don't wear pajamas."

"Not even?—"

"Nothing."

Her cheeks go an adorable shade of pink. "Right." She straightens up, suddenly back to her professional self. "Well, I'll leave you to it, then. Let me know if there's anything else I can do. Goodnight, Brock."

"Goodnight, Emma."

She makes her way over to the door to her suite, then waves before closing it behind her.

I stare at the door a long time, torn between the desire to follow her and the necessity to keep my distance. What have I done, agreeing to this cruise? And more importantly, what will happen now that my carefully constructed walls are starting to tumble?