Our group gathers in a sunny room near the atrium for the first round of drinks and appetizers of the cruise. I’ve shaken thirty hands and smiled at thirty or so faces, making sure I’ve got names attached to the correct hands and faces. Once everyone settles into seats and small talk, I grab an available seat at a table with Richard and a couple of his higher-level executives. After greeting Richard and Jenny, I nod to Evan Crawford and Viv Ferrara, Smooth Sail VPs, and their spouses.

“Everything’s lovely, Jet,” Viv says.

“Have you cruised before?” I raise a frosted pint glass but barely wet my lips. You have to look like you’re enjoying yourself but stay in control.

“Cruise virgins here,” she says with a laugh. “Can you believe it? Evan and Emily have been on several, though, and not just with Smooth Sail.”

Emily, a chilly-looking blonde, launches into a list of past cruises. I’m only halfway listening, because Havana walks in. Her flared dress swirls around her thighs as she stops to say hello to guests and chat with wait staff.

The way people do, she seems to feel my eyes on her, and she angles her head over her shoulder, just enough to meet my eyes. A deep pink blush creeps from her collarbone to her hairline—not the reaction I’d expect from someone who was practically ready to throw down in her cabin a half an hour ago. She’s embarrassed. Still beautiful, though. My cock twitches as I lift my glass again to hide the way I’m watching her body move across the deck.

And then Richard laughs at something Evan says, and I remember I’m furious. Neither Richard nor Havana mentioned their family connection, something you’d think would come up during his glowing recommendation. If I’m giving away handouts to deadbeat nieces, I’d like to know about it. Her competence does go a long way toward making that whole thing okay, but dammit, I nearly screwed my way out of this deal—not my usual operating procedure. My dick might not care, but I sure as hell do. I drag my eyes back to the table, but not soon enough. Richard follows the direction of my gaze and spots Havana.

He shoots me a hard-faced look and then switches to a grin so fast I almost think I imagined the glare.

“Havana, sweetheart, come on over.” Richard’s booming voice carries over the chatter to reach Havana at the bar, where she’s surveying the guests and obviously pretending I’m not here.

She tilts her chin and pushes off the bar to glide our way, drawing male eyes along in her wake.

Havana drops a kiss in the air near Richard’s left cheek and takes the only open seat, next to me, of course.

“This is our cruise director and also my lovely niece,” Richard tells the group.

“So, Havana, we have you to thank for the smooth check-in?” Emily’s smooth face still lacks expression, so I chalk it up to Botox.

“I’m so glad you’re enjoying it so far,” Havana says. Her smooth voice holds this hint of laughter that makes it sound like music. “Jet and I are going to sweep you all off your feet—and into the day spa.” Everyone chuckles.

Viv’s husband Gabe leans beefy forearms on the table. Something about the way he looks at Havana makes me bristle.

“So, Jet, you what, run a hotel? I’m sure Viv told me all about it, but I can’t promise I was listening.”

“You could say that.” I grin, amused by his clumsy alpha move. “I’m CEO of Encompass Regency Hotels.”

“You get a chance to play much golf? I bet you kick back at all those resorts, right?”

“You’d think, but I tend to keep busy. Golf was never really my game.” I wink at Viv, and Gabe scowls. “But I do like to travel. We’ve got a few out of the way, niche hotels in some unexpected places. Sometimes I just really need to inspect those in person.”

Evan takes a sip of his beer, leans back in his chair, and crosses one foot over the other knee. Brown dock shoes to go with his khaki shorts and oxford shirt. I can’t decide if he’s as vanilla ice cream as he looks, or if he’s just wearing the uniform. Either way, he’s one of the people I need to impress, so I keep the bland smile on my face and keep chatting.

“Unexpected places usually means stuff like cows in the streets,” Richard says. “No thanks for me.” Jenny giggles, a high-pitched tinkling sound.

“You’d be surprised. Some people are willing to trade cows in the street for Eastern style pampering. It’s another level altogether.”

Evan raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Sounds shady to me. I don’t see the appeal of this off-the-beaten path kind of thing. I like a smooth path. I want to know they know what they’re doing and I’m not going to get robbed or killed by third world bandits.”

“Oh, our smaller destinations are quite safe. Believe it or not, you can have privacy and safety at the same time.” I lean back, opening my posture and mimicking his. “Does that mean you’ll be sticking to the golf course instead of the rain forest zipline?”

Emily and Evan both chuckle primly, sharing a restrained glance.

“Please,” Gabe says. “Nobody’s got anything on Americans for luxury. We know how to do things right.”

Havana leans forward. “You can get a taste on the cruise. This ship is one of the only American cruise ships with a Korean day spa. If you haven’t been exfoliated, steamed, and moisturized by the end of this trip, you’ll have wasted the opportunity.”

Then Havana shifts, and I get a view straight down the front of her dress. My mouth goes dry with sudden, piercing thirst. As if she read my thoughts, Havana shoots me an evil grin and props both elbows on the table in front of her. I barely suppress a moan at the view of creamy flesh, pushed into tantalizing mounds and framed with the hint of lace. My balls tighten and ache, and I remember how she looked in the cabin, how her deep pink nipples hardened when they brushed against my chest. How easily I could push the lace aside with my thumb and bare those beautiful tits. The conversation goes on around us, talk of far-flung places and sailing and leisure, and I’m struggling to find my tongue again.

“Jet, are there any golf courses nearby on this trip? Gabe and I might want to shoot a round while the women take a shopping day or trek through the rainforest or something.” Richard’s question pulls me into the present with blunt force.

I shift my eyes desperately to Gabe’s hairy arms to distract myself. That moment of sexual tension in Havana’s cabin is biting me in the ass right now, when I can least afford to lose focus.

I clear my throat. “Yes, in fact. There’s a world-class course near the port call on day six, and ERH happens to have membership rights for guests there. We let them know some might be required.” I jump at the chance to show off one of our actual properties.

“And in the meantime, you two can practice your swing in the simulators, your putting at the onboard greens, and if you like, the onboard golf pro is available for individual coaching,” Havana supplies.

I could kiss her. Everywhere.

Evan joins the golf talk, and they discuss courses they’ve played, handicaps, and charity tournaments. Viv and Emily discuss some mutual acquaintance, and Havana whispers into the ear of a waiter she’s pulled aside. He nods and trots off to grab a tray of drinks.

Jenny sits across from me, momentarily forlorn as she twists a lock of hair around a finger.

“Jenny, we gave the ship the order for gluten free meals for you. Did the room service menu reflect that?” Talk to a skinny woman about her diet, and you’ll be there all day.

She rewards me with a relieved smile and we chat about gluten-free and paleo diets. She’s a yoga instructor, ballroom dancer, and minor Instagram celebrity. Richard settles an arm possessively around her, but keeps his attention on the men. I don’t know what to make of Richard’s moodiness. All of our previous meetings have been by the book.

I check my watch, and the action has all the others glancing at their wrists as well, a sort of executive reflex.

“Why don’t we all move toward the dining room for lunch?” I nudge Havana.

Chairs at our table scrape against the deck, drawing the attention of the rest of the group. They all begin to move toward the door in little clumps. Havana shoves her chair out and stands, but when she turns to step toward the door, her foot catches in the chair.

Her hand flies wide, catching me on the cheek with a smack, and then she falls forward, landing squarely across my lap. Jesus Christ. It’s like the ocean gods presented her ass to me on a golden platter. My hands hover in the air—there’s no safe place to put them. Her breasts press against my leg, and the desire that had started to fade floods my system. She freezes, and I know she feels my dick, rock hard against her soft stomach.

My hands nearly tingle with the urge to touch her. To run a hand over that gloriously accessible ass. Maybe spank it with a light pop that would make her call my name. Fuck. She looks up at me with wide eyes, pink staining her cheeks. Her lips part, her fuller bottom lip rounding to an “oh.” I want to kiss her, draw out that “oh” to a throaty moan of pleasure. Her utter surprise leaves her vulnerable, so unlike the serious, unflappable woman I met. So different from the woman who flirted back when I walked in on her undressed.

The contradiction thrills me. For one still, silent moment, I see her as both women, the driven professional and the breathy ingénue. And both of them turn me on.

The spell breaks as sounds crowd around us. Murmurs of concern from the other women, some chuckles from onlookers.

She lowers her tantalizing bum and tries to find somewhere to brace her hands. “Shit,” she mutters. “I’m so sorry, Jet.”

As her ear passes my lips, I whisper, “I’m not.”

Her eyes cut to me, the innocent surprise replaced by mischief. First I can’t control my lust, and now I can’t control my mouth. That was out of line, Jet. But the smile tugging one corner of her mouth obliterates my regret.

She apologizes again, louder and more confident this time.

Richard frowns. “Are you okay, Havana?”

“Thanks, Richard. Just haven’t gotten my sea legs yet, I guess.” She laughs off the fall, but Richard is the only one not smiling.

It’s a good reminder. Richard controls this deal, and I need his approval. I definitely won’t get it by sleeping with his niece. We’re going to all be nearly on top of each other on this cruise, so if I’m tempted to literally be on top of his niece, the chances of escaping detection are pretty slim. Fuck, I’m two hours in and teetering on the edge of tanking the deal I’ve been working toward for the better part of a year. Hell no, I’m not going to risk it for a tumble. Eastward Hotels would be there in a hot second if I made that kind of mistake.

How hard would it be, though? Richard will be drunk on cruise liquor and the younger woman sharing his stateroom. The object of this entire experiment is a good time. As long as he and his people get their full-service pampering, as long as I keep them happy, they’re not going to look too closely behind the curtain. Havana gave me plenty of go signals, so Richard’s disapproval is the only obstacle. And if he never knows … there’s no reason Havana and I can’t blow off some steam.

Any obstacle is temporary if you have brains and guts. As it happens, I’ve got both. I can score this partnership and enjoy Havana Skye, because I always get what I want. And as much as I want this deal, I want her, too.