“Thanks, Chris,” she choked. “Thanks for letting me know there’s no way he could possibly be attracted to me. I’m some broken, awful thing that ceased to be valuable when I ceased to be perfect. Shame rains upon us and it’s my fault. Has Mom taken to her room?”
A weighted pause. She didn’t dare look at Ryzard.
“I didn’t say that,” Christian said quietly.
“But it’s true! Tell me something. How many times have you stolen a weekend with someone? Hundreds,” she quickly provided. “How many times have you had to answer for it? None. And I never worked up the nerve to even kiss another man because I had a reputation to uphold. Not just mine, but the entire family’s. Paulie’s even.”
He swore. “Okay, I get it. You’re entitled to a private life, but this isn’t exactly the time, is it?” he seethed. “Or the man.”
“You haven’t told Mom and Dad, have you?”
“I didn’t know what to think, Tiff! This isn’t like you.”
“When have I ever had a chance to be who I am?” she cried. “I’ve been Dad’s daughter, Paulie’s intended. The bride who wore bandages. For God’s sake, I’m an adult. A married, widowed woman. I shouldn’t have to defend myself like I’ve committed a federal crime.”
“No, you’re right, I’m sorry. Truly.”
“How bad is it?” she asked, hanging her head, weighted by guilt despite all she’d just said. “Do I have to talk to them or better to wait?”
“They don’t know what to think, either. But they don’t want to see you get hurt in any way, ever again. Is this thing serious with Vrbancic?”
She glanced at Ryzard. He didn’t look quite so much as if he wanted to wring her neck, but he had an air of imperative surrounding him. As if he didn’t intend to wait much longer for her to give her attention back to him.
“Not, um, really,” she murmured.
Christian’s sharp sigh grated in her ear.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I miss where you married everyone you ever slept with?” she railed.
“So it’s gone that far.”
He didn’t have to take a tone like the septic was backed up!
“Goodbye, Chris. Tell Mom and Dad whatever you want.” She stabbed the end button and threw her phone onto the bed. Then dropped a pillow on top of it for good measure. And added a punch that left a deep indent.
“I’d like to say I’m above caring what people think of me, but when my family judges me, it hurts.” Her baleful gaze met one that didn’t so much judge as measure.
“You knew they would disapprove. That’s why you were upset.”
“Not because it’s you. They would have been scandalized no matter who I slept with. Although, I’m sure there’s some shock value that they sent me to talk to you and here I am. As God is my witness, I’ll never, ever tell my mother I didn’t even see your face the first time, let alone know your name.” She buried her hot face in her clammy hands, reacting to all that had happened since she’d woken so abruptly. “This isn’t the way I usually behave, Ryzard. I can’t blame them for being shocked.”
“Be careful how much you hate your parents, draga. They’re the only ones you have.”
“You’re going to judge me now?” She lifted her face in challenge.
“I’m only offering the benefit of my experience.”
“You hated your parents?” She didn’t believe it.
“I was angry with them for sending me away. Keeping me away from my home. It felt like a rejection.”
He hadn’t explained that part before. A pang struck at how lonely and discarded he must have felt.
Beneath the pillow, her phone burbled. Tiffany made a noise and started from the room, then said, “Actually, I want to change. It’s too hot for long pants.”
Ryzard closed the door, but remained in the room. Apparently he intended to watch. Hell. The man gave her goose bumps without making any effort at all.
Skimming past the one-shoulder and long-sleeved shirts and dresses, she pulled out a skimpy sundress she would have worn only in the privacy of her suite yesterday. It was patterned busily in neon pink and green and yellow, hopefully bright enough to draw attention from her equally busy skin patterns.
The scared mouse in her wanted to hide under layers, but a spunky, more daring part of her wanted to test whether she still held his interest.
Stripping unceremoniously, even dropping her bra, she shrugged her arms under the spaghetti straps and tugged it into place, then picked up the flared skirt in a little curtsy, spinning under the direction of his twirled finger.
“Adorable. Now come here.”
“And risk making love on that telephone? Possibly landing on buttons that could have serious consequences? No. You promised me a meal and we skipped lunch.”
“Yet I recall being very satisfied with everything I tasted,” he mused, one hand on the door latch. The other caressed her bottom as she exited in front of him.
Her blood skipped in her arteries, and she was blushing hard as she led him outside to where a table was set and chilled wine was ready to be uncorked. The sun sat low on the horizon, ducking beneath the shade to strike off the silver and crystal.
Ryzard held a chair in a corner for her and asked for a filtered shade to be drawn.
“I’m sorry I was such a pill,” she said contritely. “You took me by surprise with this.” She indicated the extravagance of the cat. “I thought we’d part ways this afternoon and maybe I’d see you with someone else at a future Q Virtus event. This is better,” she allowed, but met his gaze with a level one. “But I do have to work.”
“Apology accepted. And I’ve already instructed my crew to set up a work space in the cabin where your things were unpacked. It should be completed by morning.”
“They’re going to work while I’m sleeping in there?” she asked, already anticipating his reply.
“You won’t be in there, draga. And you won’t be sleeping.”
* * *
Ryzard flipped through his emails on his tablet while he waited for Tiffany to finish her call. They’d had a surprisingly productive morning, despite lazing in bed first thing. An easy, affectionate companionship had fallen between them after her rather explosive reaction to waking at sea yesterday.
He still chafed a little, recalling it, even though he now understood it to be her own baggage with her family that had caused her to push him away like that. His reaction, however, continued to niggle at him no matter how much he wanted to ignore it. Her claim that she was with him out of desperation had slapped him with a surprisingly sharp hand.
She was volatile. A woman as sexually passionate as she was would have strong feelings in every aspect of her life, he supposed. He could only imagine what kind of mama bear she’d be about her children.
Sucking in a breath at having taken such a bizarre turn in his mind, he lifted his head to see her set aside her phone.
“Done. Really sorry,” she said.
“Don’t apologize. We both have to work. I made you wait this morning.”
She gave him a look that said, Seriously? and slid her eyes to the crewman setting out their air tanks.
He grinned, amused by her blushing over his referring to the way they’d been driving each other into a frenzy, fresh out of the shower, when he’d had to take a call that couldn’t be put off. Afterward, they’d nearly ripped each other apart, and breakfast had been a quietly stunned affair when her bare foot atop his had pleased him well beyond what was reasonable.
They’d parted ways after, each moving to their separate work spaces, but he’d been distracted by her proximity. With most women, that would signal the end for him. Not with Tiffany. His brain couldn’t even contemplate an end to this. It had barely started. She was too extraordinary.
Her phone rang and she turned from removing her wrap, clad only in her bikini as she stepped toward the table where she’d left the phone. “I don’t have to get that. We’ll pretend we’re already in the water and— Oh shoot, it’s my brother. I should answer. Why are you staring?” She followed his gaze to her torso, then sent an anxious look to the crewman who had lifted her tank, ready to strap it onto her.
“I’m staring because you’re hot as hell,” Ryzard prevaricated. “Take your call or you’ll be wondering what he wanted.”
Somewhat flustered, she stabbed the phone, then held the screen before her for the video call. “Hey,” she said as she picked up her wrap and shrugged her arm into it.
Ryzard sighed inwardly. He hadn’t meant to make her feel sensitive. He’d been looking at her scars, yes, but only thinking that a woman with less zeal for life would have succumbed to such injuries. Tiffany’s ferocious spirit was the reason she’d survived, and he was very glad she had.