“Oh, come on. It will be fun, a night cruise with a full house …”
“And thank you for reminding me that the cruise is sold out,” he said. “That really calmed my nerves.”
“Uh, sorry.” Watching him shake like a leaf, she advised, “How about you take a few deep breaths?”
“Deep breaths? That’s all the psychologist has to offer me?”
With a small pout, she replied, “Deep breaths would help if you tried them. But I have a better idea for how to help you chill out. Let me clean up my area a bit and I’ll meet you in the bridge.”
“Okay. I gotta stay here and collect tickets before I head up. While I wait for passengers to show up maybe I’ll try to remember what the hell Rog says in his spiel.”
“Good idea!” she called over her shoulder.
Twenty minutes later, Tommy returned from the hospital and took over the ticket collecting. Unfortunately, he had no status report on Roger because he’d had to turn around and leave the moment they arrived at the ER. But he did assure Grant that he’d left Roger in good hands at Northwestern Memorial Hospital.
Grant headed to the bridge and was dismayed to find his anxiety increasing as his performance approached. He glanced down at the benches on the deck, filling ominously with passengers. “Just go away,” he wished, glaring at the teeming tourists.
Having just waltzed into the control room, Sophie paused. “You want me to go away?”
“No, not you,” Grant said. “Them.” He pointed behind him to the scads of passengers. “If you knew how to navigate this watercraft, I’d love to have you up here with me.”
Then he noticed the tray in her arms, which carried a bottle of tequila, two shot glasses, lime wedges, and salt. “This is how you’re going to help me? By plying me with booze?”
“Well, I would refer you to a psychiatrist for a good benzodiazepine but that doesn’t look like an option, given that the cruise is starting in ten minutes.” She caught him glancing anxiously at the bottle. “Do you like tequila?”
He cleared his throat and bashfully admitted, “I don’t really know. I’ve never had a drink.” He’d never admitted that to anyone. Now she’d think he was a total loser.
She looked astonished. “Never? Not one?”
“People in my family have addictive personalities,” he said. “Like my brother for one.” He silently added, And my father. He was drunk that night. The night he killed that kid.
“That’s impressive self-restraint,” she said. “And I would never encourage you to do something against your will. But, Grant, one drink can’t turn you into an alcoholic. It might take the edge off if you want to try one.”
He hesitated, the wheels turning in his mind. He should be thinking about Millennium Park and Trump Tower and the old post office building and the Sears Tower and the Spire, but instead he was dreaming up ways to touch her gorgeous, intoxicating body once again.
“The body shot thing you mentioned did sound kind of interesting,” he smirked. What was he doing? He was never this suggestive with women.
“Oh?” There was a playful lilt in her voice. “You want your first drink to be a body shot?”
“Hey, you’ve been doing them all day with the passengers. The least you could do is to share one with me.”
“Hmm …” She flashed a teasing grin. “Oh, what the hell? I’m already wearing alcohol all over my body anyway. We’ll do a version of a body shot.” Sophie whipped out her notepad and pretended to scribble officiously. “May I recommend a shot of tequila, sir?”
“Sounds heavenly.”
Mesmerized by his oceanic eyes and liquid-smooth voice, Sophie absentmindedly stuffed her notepad into her pocket. Grant’s heart pounded and he decided take her previous advice—a few deep breaths—as she poured golden liquid into the shot glasses. Sophie’s hand trembled slightly as she scooped up the salt shaker. She could not believe they were doing this.
“Give me your arm,” she ordered. She looked down at the lean, sinewy muscles in his left forearm and lightly grasped his long fingers, admiring their grace. His hand was warm and smooth as she gently turned his palm upward. Smiling mischievously, she leaned her head down over his arm.
Grant’s breathing hitched when he felt her warm tongue lick the baby-soft skin along the inside of his wrist. The moist spot felt cool when she lifted her head, and he watched curiously as she shook some salt onto the wet patch of skin. She maintained her light hold on his left wrist while lining up her shot and lime wedge with the other hand.
“Watch and learn how this works, ‘cause you’re going next,” she said.
She dipped her head and he felt the glorious sensation of her tongue once again. Then she knocked back the tequila and grabbed a lime wedge between her teeth. He was entranced by her pink lips massaging the lime skin, puckering from the tartness. She finished by flicking her tongue back and forth over the green slice and flashing him an alluring smile.
Grant had observed quite a few shots taken by his Navy buddies in bars all over the world, but never had he witnessed anything involving his own skin as a springboard for a beautiful woman’s tequila shot. He eagerly anticipated his turn.
Surrendering her arm to him with a twinkle in her chestnut-brown eyes, Sophie invited him closer. Self-consciously Grant grasped her delicate wrist and bent over to take a languid lick of her skin, drinking in her sophisticated perfume. He lifted his head and dumped some salt on the moist spot inside her forearm.
“And here begins my corruption, Dr. Taylor,” he said, drawing a nervous breath. She giggled as he leaned forward, closing his eyes while tasting her once again. The briny salt mixed with her sweet skin was intoxicating, and he had not even had any alcohol yet. He stood up, clutched the full shot glass in his hand, and reluctantly tipped it to his lips. The tequila burned his throat, but he was determined not to cough—he couldn’t compromise his manly image any further—and he successfully made it to suck on a lime, flashing a bright-green smile.
As Grant felt the hot tequila slide into his empty stomach, he realized they had forgotten about dinner in the melee with Roger.
“How did you like it?” Sophie inquired, studying him intently.
Feeling the alcohol warm his insides, Grant slowly nodded. “Not bad. I’m still kind of nervous, but if I drink enough of this maybe I won’t even care if I screw up.”
Sophie was about to reply when Tommy rushed in. “Hey, guys, it’s time to start! Everybody’s on board, and they need their drinks, Sophie.”