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as they
carry me resolutely, albeit unsteadily, away from Reese.
     
     

CHAPTER SEVEN- Reese
     
    There’s no reason for me not to make plans
for Kennedy’s arrival on my yacht. Part of it is being sure of
myself and my powers of persuasion. I’ve spent most of my life
getting what I want. I’ve learned how to do it effectively, no
matter who I’m negotiating with. But part of it is anticipation.
I’m ready to get this show on the road. I’m anxious to spend some
time getting to know this new Kennedy, the one who dances like
she’s dancing just for me. The one whose legs are longer than ever.
The one whose lips are made just for mine. The one who I’m going to
gorge myself on until I can’t stand the sight of her.
    I need to get Kennedy in my bed and out of my
system as soon as possible.
    Being the owner of the club at which she
works, I have access to all of Kennedy’s records—her mandatory
health exams, including the results of her labs that show she’s
clean as a whistle; the brands of products she orders for her
shows, from makeup to body glitter (which she never orders); her
shoe and clothing sizes; and even the fact that she loves hats. I
pass most of that information along to Kimmie, the woman in charge
of the entertainment on my cruises. She can order outfits and
accoutrements for Kennedy based on what she’s worn in the past.
    So, in essence, I have all the information I
need to make sure Kennedy’s room is prepared for her when she
boards. And she will board. I was even able to get the son
of a friend of my father’s to find out if she has a passport that’s
up to date, which she does.
    The last thing I have to do is let Kennedy
know what time the car will be around to pick her up. I punch in
the number that I got from her contact information sheet into my
phone and listen to it ring.
    “Hello?” comes a sleepy, husky voice.
    “Mmmm, that sounds like an invitation,” I
murmur. And it does. It says to me that she’s lying warm and naked
beneath her sheets, her skin supple, her body willing.
    After a short pause, during which I can
almost hear Kennedy’s eyes opening wider as she comes awake, she
speaks. “Then you would be mistaken,” she replies, prim and curt.
She doesn’t ask who’s calling or mistake me for another man. She
recognizes my voice, which means she’s been thinking about me.
Maybe remembering. Maybe wishing.
    “Get someone to look after your cat for three
months, and be packed and ready by four o’clock. I’ll send someone
to escort you to the airport. And bring your passport.”
    “How do you know I have a cat?”
    “Educated guess.”
    She sniffs at my reply. “Aren’t you being a
little presumptuous?” she asks sharply.
    “Not at all. You’re a smart woman. You’ve
looked at your options. You’ve weighed the merits of working the
summer in my club and planning for the dream you may or may not
achieve on your own, versus working for me and getting a
once-in-a-lifetime audition that you could likely never get on your
own, and you’ve concluded that there’s only one sensible
choice.”
    “Just like you knew I would,” she says
quietly.
    I can’t help but smile. I’m sure she hates
that I’ve engineered the situation so perfectly. But if I didn’t
know how to make offers people can’t refuse, I wouldn’t be where I
am today. I wouldn’t be who I am today.
    “Don’t be too hard on yourself. There are
very few people who can deny me.”
    “And, aside from me, who might those be?”
    “You’re not denying me.”
    “I’m taking you up on an offer, but you can
rest assured that I’ll be denying you in every other possible
way.”
    “I guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
    I hear her soft huff and I smile again. This
might be even more fun than I anticipated. And I anticipated a
whole hell of a lot!
    Before she can argue further, I cut her off.
“I’ll see you at four.”
    I hang up.
    I’m still smiling, thinking, planning when
the phone rings in