Page 45 of Bad Cruz

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He laughed.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“That you’re different from what I thought,” he said. “Very different.”

“Whatever,” I answered, because he didn’t seem like he said it in a bad way, but frankly, I had enough pride that I didn’t want to be caught fishing for compliments twice in ten minutes.

“So. Wanna have dinner together? A friendly dinner,” he asked.

“You’re buying.”

“It’s free.”

I sighed. “The drinks, too?”

“I’m afraid so.”

A woman walked by in a fancy dress.

“Then how about a nice Prada dress? I really do want to live the kept woman life, even if only for a day.”

“That’s a no.”

“Ugh.” I rolled my eyes. “You’re a clappy husband, Mr. Weiner.”

“And you have a weird aversion to profanity.”

He got up and offered me a hand, and I took it.

And that’s when the trouble began.

If this cruise had taught me anything med school hadn’t, other than the fact Tennessee Turner had no future in the travel business, it was that you could, in fact, have a three-hour erection without prescribed erectile medication.

Fine, five.

Six, but honestly, more like five-and-a-half.

Non. Freaking. Stop.

At first, I’d noticed her from across the pool, tiny pink bikini on her supermodel figure, tanning her ass.

There was not one man in the vicinity who didn’t drink her up with his eyes, until finally, every self-respecting woman in the area dragged her beau from that row of seats, leaving Tennessee completely alone and easy prey.

I’d watched from a safe distance, the majority of my blood concentrated between my legs and again wondered why she was so hard to avoid on a cruise ship the size of Long Island.

I’d planned to catch up on some medical journals, but the only thing I learned during the afternoon was that Tennessee Turner had zero bad angles.

Trust me—I checked.

Finally, a tatted fuckboy put some moves on her.

I’d studied her reaction closely. Word around town was that she was a hussy, but I had a zero-bull-crap policy and only believed what my eyes could see when it came to people.

And what I noticed over the years was that Tennessee not only actively blocked everyone’s advances, but she hadn’t been seen with a man since Robert Gussman.

I could tell by her body language that Tennessee didn’t appreciate her new admirer’s attentions. I struggled with staying out of the situation, until the asshole put his hand on her elbow.

I was there in half a second, shooed him away, and stuck around for the—wait for it—conversation.


Tags: L.J. Shen Romance