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"Wow, your muscles just tightened. Take a deep breath. If you're so close by, maybe you should stake out his door, and when he leaves pretend to bump into him. He can't stay in his stateroom forever. Maybe he likes to be out when most people are sleeping. I knew a musician like that. He was a total night-owl."
"A night owl," Brittany repeated. "Interesting. Huh. You might be right. I wonder if he's a celebrity and leaves his cabin late so no-one will bother him. He's handsome enough to be famous, that's for sure. Thanks, Martha. I love your suggestion. I'm going to do that. I'm so glad I came here."
"You're welcome. Now you can chill and let me get these knots out."
Martha's theory made sense, and surrendering to the deft fingers rubbing her back, Brittany let herself drift away to fantasies of meeting the elusive Mr. Rhys-Davies under the brilliant ocean stars.
But fate stepped in with an unexpected surprise.
Meandering down the corridor back to her room, she found the maid's trolley parked outside his door, and she paused to catch a quick glance. Her heart skipped. He was standing in the middle of the room with his back to the door! Dressed in navy shorts and a cream, loose fitting shirt, her eyes devoured his muscled arms, wide shoulders, and tanned, toned legs, but to her shock, as if sensing her gaze, he began to turn. Panicking, she ducked away and hurried to her cabin.
"Oh, no! Why didn't I wave?" she muttered, leaning against the door. "Damn. I'm such an idiot."
But a moment later she realized she was glad she hadn't. Wearing no makeup and disheveled from the massage, she was a mess. Moving into her bathroom, she stepped into the shower, and as the hot water splashed across her body she realized just how tired she was. The long jog, the deep tissue massage, and her ongoing obsession with the handsome Englishman had worn her out. Toweling off, she dressed in a white sundress and white sandals, then opening her door she peered down the hallway.
Her heart leapt a second time.
Duncan was outside his cabin, his hands on his hips and a frown on his face. Grabbing a chair, she sat down to resume her surveillance, and though the maid's trolley was still in place, the elusive Mr. Rhys-Davies had slipped away. Her shoulders slumped in dismay.
"Damn, I need a nap," she muttered, surrendering to a heavy yawn. "I'll have a quick snooze then start watching in earnest."
But just as she rose to her feet, Duncan Rhys-Davies reappeared in a dark blue track suit and running shoes. Her imagination suddenly ran rampant. He could be related to the royals, maybe a spy, or even a glamorous international jewel thief. Giggling at her wild thoughts, her cheeriness quickly faded as he marched down the hallway and disappeared around a corner.
Her eyes fell on the maid's trolley outside his cabin.
Her crazy notion to have a quick snoop around his cabin suddenly popped into her head.
She stepped into the passage.
She knew the idea was completely foolish, but when she reached his open door the temptation overwhelmed her.
She could hear the maid vacuuming in the bedroom.
Though every bit of common sense she possessed told her to turn around and leave, she crept inside.
CHAPTER TWO
Seconds after her first furtive steps she heard the maid turn off the vacuum. Afraid she couldn't zip back into the hall without being seen, she made a panicked dash to wriggle behind the armoire positioned in the corner of the lounge. Finding refuge just as the maid entered, heart thumping and holding her breath, Brittany waited until she heard the cabin door click closed.
The room fell eerily quiet.
Letting out a relieved sigh, she moved from her hiding place and into the center of the lushly appointed cabin. Burgundy, chocolate brown and cream gave the space a far more masculine feel. By comparison, her stateroom bloomed like spring with an array of pastels, but the thrill of being in his cabin suddenly took hold. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, and telling herself she'd be quick, she scanned the room seeking out clues that might tell her more about the sexy Brit. A paperback on the side table next to the sofa caught her eye. Swiftly moving across the room, she picked up the book and studied the cover. The blood drained from her face. Fur covered handcuffs rested on the cream satin bedspread of a four poster bed. The scrawled title floating across the bottom of the page read, A Man's Discipline. A Woman's Secret Desires. Pulse racing, she opened the naughty novel to the bookmarked page.
The hot sting burned Susan's naked backside, the feather tickling between her pussy lips had her dripping with desire, and she longed to plead for her release, but he had instructed her not to make a sound.
Brittany's thighs tensed as the words swirled around her head. For years she'd secretly ached for a dominant, and endless nights she'd pleasured herself to thoughts of being tied up, blindfolded, and teased into oblivion.
A loud click snapped her head around.
The door handle moved.
She'd never understood the term, frozen stiff, but she found herself unable to move as Duncan Rhys-Davies, tall, striking, and bigger than life, stepped inside. All she could do was watch the puzzled frown cross his brow.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She tried to utter something—anything—but she couldn't find her voice.
"Nothing to say? I believe security can take care of this," he dec
