I enter the spa to find Grace a nervous wreck. Her hair is piled high on top of her head, making her look even more fragile and innocent but also wildly sexy. But her eyes, they look everywhere but at me. Our gazes meet for only a few seconds at a time before she looks away.

I wouldn’t want to be in her position right now. This is her job and she’s attending to the boss.

“You don’t have to be nervous, you know.” I give her a peck on the cheek and close the door to the massage room, which is filled with the scent of her skin wrapped in massage oils. “Pretend I’m one of the guests.” I lean against the massage table and tug my T-shirt over my head, taking my time to allow her to appreciate the body that would soon come into contact with hers.

The gasp coming from her is soft but I hear it even before the fabric of the shirt glides past my ears. It pleases me that she likes what she sees.

“You look great, by the way.” I’m glad she has chosen to wear one of the outfits I bought her, off-white shorts with a navy tank top that shows a hint of cleavage. Enough for her to feel sexy but not uncomfortable.

“Thanks for the compliment. And thanks for all the other clothes.” She bites her lower lip and starts arranging essential oils inside a woven basket as I remove the rest of my clothing.

Not wanting to freak her out too much, I reach for the smallest towel—intentionally—and wrap it around my lower body.

She looks up then, flushed and still averting her gaze. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable on the table.” She picks up a small remote, presses a button. Soft nature music pours into the room. I allow the chirping birds and mountain stream to relax me as I follow her orders, making myself comfortable on the white leather massage table.

“Has it been awfully busy in here so far?” I ask, not because I’m interested, but because I’m trying to act like another one of her clients, making conversation. “I hope you’re still enjoying your time here.”

“It’s definitely different than my life on land.”

She rubs what smells like sandalwood massage oil between her hands, and places them on my back. A bolt of lightning zaps through my entire body.

“Back home, I worked in a small massage parlor.” Her fingers knead the tension from my shoulders. “We didn’t get many clients. Not like here. But I much prefer being busy.”

My eyes drift shut. “Forgive me for thinking this, but I get the impression you belong in a world much bigger than the one you left behind. That your life in Arizona was a bit . . . restricted. Am I right?”

“I don’t see what you mean.” The tone of her voice tells me she does.

She looks like someone who needs a push in the direction of her destiny. So, while on her massage table, I choose to be her friend.

“I’m great at observing people,” I continue. “Honestly, something tells me there are many things you want to do with your life, but something is stopping you. You want to be more, to do more. You crave a bigger life than the one you’ve come to accept.” I lift my head from the table and try to glance at her. Craning my neck hurts so I quit. “Everyone should be given the opportunity to be the best they can be. Promise me one thing.”

“What’s that?” She glides her soft hands to the middle of my back and I almost give up the pep talk to focus on other more important things.

“Once this cruise is over, go and live. Become the person you were always destined to be. Do things that thrill but also frighten you. Live your life.”

“Okay.”

“Promise,” I push.

“I promise.” I can tell by her clamped up expression that I hit a nerve.

I’ve always been a good judge of character and even with her wall up, I still managed to see who she is. I’ve watched and listened, paid attention to her words. Those are some of the skills that get me far in business. I’ve never used them so much on a woman.

I no longer talk as I enjoy the feel of her hands on my skin, while allowing her to think about what I said.

Her massage skills are as incredible as everyone said. I came here not expecting more than the beauty of having her hands on me, but now I find myself melting to her touch, which is slowly starting to turn me on. I wish those hands would glide lower and sweep across the rest of my body. I imagine them encircling my dick, taking the term massage to a whole other level.

I want her. I need her. And I have no idea how the hell I’m going to go about convincing her she wants me too, as more than a friend.

Unable to control myself, I shift to a seated position. Without wasting time thinking about right and wrong, I pull her toward me. Caught up in a desire-filled moment, I bring my lips to hers.

At first, she stiffens with surprise and places her hands on my chest as though about to push me away. To my relief, she gives in and her oily fingers wrap around my neck, massaging the nape. As her mouth brushes mine and my tongue pushes its way between her lips, my entire body throbs with a desire for her so strong it makes me want to bellow with frustration at my lack of control.

Fuck. What is this woman doing to me?

In a moment of clarity I banish the desire-filled haze and pull back. “I’m sorry about that.” I bring the tips of my fingers to my lips, still tasting her kiss, craving more.

With the palm of my hand, I rub the sweat off my brow. “Being around you is so . . . so intoxicating. I couldn’t help myself.” With any other woman, I wouldn’t have stopped. I would’ve carried right on, taken what I wanted, to bury myself deep into her. When the feeling is mutual, I never ask for permission and I make no excuses. Why the hell can’t I do it now? Why is she fucking with my mind so much?

She, too, touches her lips as though she wishes my mouth were still on them. “Don’t worry about it.”

I get off the massage table and lift my pants from the back of the chair. “The massage was amazing. Thank you.” I start to get dressed, feeling like a horny teenager. “But I think it’s best for me to leave now. Give us both time to, you know, to think.”

“You might be right.” I can’t help noticing that her eyes have dimmed a little, no longer glinting like my mother’s ring. She gathers up the towels I was lying on and moves to the door. “I guess, I’ll see you around?”

“Sure.” She leaves the room and I finish dressing in a rush. I feel different, ashamed somehow. Even though she did kiss me back, I feel as though I had pushed her into something she wasn’t ready for.

These thoughts don’t belong in my mind. This isn’t me. I’m losing my mind and the only way I can steady my nerves is to get the hell out of here and to my cabin. I need a strong drink to help screw my head on straight before I lose my sanity, before I lose myself.

My breath is held the entire journey from the spa to my room and I’m glad the ship is isolated because I’m in no mood to talk to anyone right now.

Crashing into the apartment, I lean against the door, taking deep, ragged breaths. I spot my cell phone on the bed and go to pick it up. Two missed calls and a voice message. Both from Lance.

As I toss it back onto the bed, my teeth are gritted so hard my jaw aches.

Lance is the reason. The reason why I cannot let any woman enter my heart. Ever. Falling for Grace or anyone else would be a terrible mistake, one with consequences I’m not ready to face. But one nagging thought scares the shit out of me.

What if it’s too late?