By the time we hit Cartagena, I’ve made a decision. It’s not my first time in town and I have a lot of memories stored away inside my dirty mind. Memories of thrilling sexual encounters. This time is different. This time I’m deviating from my usual plans.

Unable to wipe the grin off my face, I grab my wallet and leave the suite, leaving my phone behind. I’m not seeing any of my Spanish lovers, and I don’t want anyone to reach me.

The only woman on my mind today is Grace Anderson. Since our dinner, a few nights ago, we haven’t seen each other much but talked over the phone. The woman had found a way to get under my skin and it pisses me off that I kind of like it.

Since I’m familiar with Cartagena, I made a promise to show her one of my favorite parts of town. Maybe a couple of hours spent with her will open her up a bit, so she tells me about her childhood and the man who sent her running to my ship for refuge. Before now, her childhood aches and pains never interested me. But something about Grace makes me desperate to peel back her layers, something out of my control. She looks so fragile, so broken that I want to take her under my wing as much as I want her in my bed. She still hasn’t given me an answer, but I intend on getting it before we leave Cartagena.

It’s out of character for me to spend as much time with women as I plan on spending with Grace, but there’s a wonderment in her eyes when she discovers new things, a sparkle that hypnotizes me. I hunger to see her eyes glint when I show her new places and encourage her to experience different things. She hasn’t seen much of the world, that much is clear, and I want her to see this part of the world with me, need her to help me rediscover the joy in things I’ve come to take for granted.

When I told Neal about her last night over the phone, he told me I’m falling for her. He’s wrong. I like to think of her as a friend with benefits. It’s only a matter of time before I get the benefits. But today is about her. Though I’m wary of women finding out about my wealth, I do enjoy spoiling the ones I trust, the ones who aren’t addicted to the smell of my cash. Women like Grace.

Since Grace insisted she doesn’t want to be seen with me in public, which I appreciate, I told her to meet me at the Luxe Mobile Car Rental next to the post office, not far from where the ship is docked.

She’s ten minutes early when I get there, looking nervous in a white oversized T-shirt and shorts that reach her knees. She has no idea what she’s depriving the world of.

I don’t approach her immediately, but spend some minutes in front of a flower shop on the opposite side of the road, hidden by a potted plant with curled-up leaves. The dominant smells of car exhaust fumes and fast foods bury the gentle scent of the flowers waiting to be sold.

As I watch Grace, I ignore the curious stare of the owner, who is people-watching from a bench in front of her shop. She doesn’t ask me to buy something or leave. I appreciate that.

Grace is searching the sweaty faces of tourists and locals for mine.

Is she wondering if I stood her up? I’ve always found confidence in women to be irresistible, but her innocence and fragility definitely turns me on. I love the challenge of building her up to a point where she’s unrecognizable to herself. I’m not one to shy away from a challenge.

After a while, I hand the woman a hundred bucks and leave without any flowers.

I wave at her and step onto the cracked pavement, almost knocking over a garbage can painted by local artists. A Volkswagen Beetle with an ugly scratch on the side honks when I cross the street. Paying it no attention, I call Grace’s name.

She catches the sound of my voice over that of a baby screaming and spins around, hugging a big, faux leather bag to her body. Her face breaks out in a smile that knocks the wind out of my lungs.

My face doesn’t reflect the turmoil inside my chest.

“You’re early.” I move to kiss her on the cheek but she steps back, scanning the crowds. “Someone might see us.”

“So what?”

“Well, I have a job and a reputation to protect.” She blinks at me. She has the longest lashes I’ve seen on a woman, giving an air of mystery. “Are you sure you don’t have better things to do today than show me around?”

I sling an arm around her shoulders, enjoying the way she squirms.

“There’s nothing I’d rather do. And you wouldn’t want to miss out on this chance. I happen to know the best places around here. This is one of my favorite haunts.” I pause. “And by the way, you don’t have to be nervous that someone will see us, we’re renting a car for the day. Let’s go inside.”

Her shoulders visibly sink with relief as we enter the rental agency’s cool interior. The owner comes waddling over, eyes dancing.

“Mr. LaClaire, our favorite customer.” He has a thick Spanish accent. “Welcome back to Cartagena. So lovely to see you again.”

“It’s always a pleasure to be back. How have you been, Daniel?” I tap the old man on the shoulder and he beams with joy, the corners of his dark eyes crinkling.

“Who is this lovely lady?” He turns to Grace, who blushes under his appreciative glance.

“Hands off, Daniel.” I chuckle. “She’s mine.” I’m sure Daniel knows I’m a commitment-phobe. Over the last couple of months he has heard me say the same thing about several other ladies.

“Just a little kiss, no?” Daniel reaches for Grace’s hand and she blushes even more as he presses a kiss on her hand. She is clearly not used to being admired and it’s damn cute to watch.

“So, Mr. LaClaire, how may I help you today?”

“Give me your best car. I’m sure you’ll agree that this lady deserves nothing less than the best.”

* * *

As we enjoy the scenic drive along the streets of Cartagena in the rented Porsche 911 Convertible, I can’t help watching her from the corner of my eye. Her hair is like spun gold as it floats on the wind and when she looks at me, laughing, her eyes glint like the Cognac Tourmaline ring my mother wore all the time while she was alive. Cartagena is a beautiful place, but I’ve never experienced it this way, as though I’m seeing it for the first time.

“Having fun?” My words are muffled by the rush of the wind. We just got back on the road after I treated her to a delicious seafood lunch at my favorite restaurant in Manga.

She throws her hands in the air and closes her eyes. “Of course I’m having fun. I’ve never felt this free in my life.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” A horn blares from behind us and I pull my gaze away from her, returning my eyes to the road.

I won’t allow myself to be distracted by Grace Anderson. If only I knew how to stop my damn heart from going all soft around her. This is not me. I’ll never be the man she needs and deserves. Not that I want to be that guy.

During lunch, I had opened up much more than I had intended to, told her bits and pieces of my childhood and asked about hers. As I fix my gaze on the BMW in front of us with a broken taillight, I’m struggling with the decision of whether to stop the date early. But I can’t. Today she’s got me under her spell and I want to enjoy her presence a while longer.

I’m taking her to Cartagena’s Old Town, where I intend on treating her to some nice things. I need to see that fire of excitement lights up her eyes once more.

Once we leave Cartagena, I’ll push the pause button and go back to seeing her as the girl I want to fuck, not the one whose company I enjoy more than I want to admit.

For the first time, the needle of guilt stabs me between the ribs at the thought of screwing a girl and dropping her. I comfort myself with the thought that I won’t be leaving her with nothing. The confidence I’m building in her is worth more than an unpredictable relationship. There’s no way I can let it become something more than it is.

* * *

“Bryant, you’re crazy. I can’t take this. It’s too much.” Grace runs her hands over the sequined fabric of the canary cocktail dress.

“Your eyes tell me you like it. Are they lying?” I lean back on the black leather couch, trying my best not to feel aroused in a public place. She looks damn hot in that thing. Imagining myself sliding the spaghetti straps one by one off her shoulders is even more appealing.

“It doesn’t matter if I like it. It costs way too much.”

I glance at the shop assistant hovering nearby, surrounded by an overwhelming scent of musk perfume. “Give us a moment, please.”

Once she leaves, I get up from the couch and approach Grace, cup her hip with a hand. “I don’t mind buying you things. I have more money than I can spend. Take the dress.”

She folds her arms over her chest. “I don’t need all these designer clothes. Where would I even wear them all?”

“When was the last time somebody spoiled you?” I take a step back, not wanting to make her too uncomfortable.

“Does it matter?” Her gaze slides from mine.

“That’s all I needed to hear.” I return to the couch. “That dress is going home with you, whether you want it or not. Now try on the black one.”

I’m well aware I’m getting carried away, but I’m finding it hard to hit the brakes. At least she can’t say I’m trying to buy her love because I’d made it clear from the start that all I want is sex.

When Grace is done trying on all the clothes I’d insisted on seeing on her body, I take them from her arms and hand them to the delighted shop assistant. It’s not often someone walks in wanting to buy the most expensive dresses in the store. I’m buying Grace more than formal dresses. She said she wouldn’t have anywhere to wear the fancy clothes, so while she was in the changing room, I took the liberty of selecting a few pieces of everyday clothes as well, the kind that will flatter her body instead of hiding it.

“What the hell is that?” She whispers into my ear as I pull out my credit card. Her eyes widen at the frilly panties and bras going through checkout.

“A few little extras,” I whisper in her ear as the cash register dings. “I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t look so horrified. You’ll look great in them.” As I say the words, I can’t wait to unleash the sexy, wild side of Grace. I know from experience every woman has one.

“So, do you ride on your ships on most cruises?” Grace asks when I toss the shopping bags into the backseat of the car.

“No, I don’t.” I get behind the wheel and slam the car door shut. “But I make a point to be on the virgin voyages of all my cruise ships. This is my favorite so far.”

Grace turns to look away, trying to hide the blush tinting her cheeks. Unable to hold back a smile, I pull away from the curb.

“I don’t usually stay the entire journey. This is further than I’ve ever come.”

“Oh.” She runs the palms of her hands over her thighs. “How far is this one taking you?”

“All the way.” I had planned to end the journey in Cartagena, but I didn’t want to leave without getting what I want. “So, how are you liking Cartagena so far?”

“It’s amazing here. I’m so glad we’re staying for another day.”

“I can also think of fun things to do on the ship.” She knows what I’m referring to, so I don’t elaborate. I’ve seen enough of Cartagena. Now I want to see more of her. “Besides, with everyone roaming around Cartagena, the place will be a ghost ship. I was thinking I might drop by the spa for one of your famous massages. How does that sound?”

“That can be arranged.” Her soft, velvety voice knocks my heart out of place.