A/N: More Leah and Em time. Yay!

SM owns anything you recognize!

Review, I like to hear your thoughts! (:

Ch4: Wet Wineglasses

"That was straight up robbery," Embry muttered as, a short while later—and half a wallet poorer for the bribe—another waiter led him to Leah's table.

He couldn't have picked a better spot if he had tried. It was slightly more secluded from the other table, offering more intimacy and an endless dusky ocean view. Nearby, a piano player was skillfully tickling some blues from the ivories, a saxophone skirting the notes.

"Here you go, sir," the waiter said, pulling the chair out for Embry.

Leah's face brightened with recognition, and then a glint of suspicion formed. "You're number fourteen?"

"Small world, isn't it?" Embry tried to show an equal amount of astonishment. "Embry Call," he introduced himself.

Her smiled widened as she accepted his offered hand and just like that, the contact of skin on skin sent his pulse thumping again.

"Leah Clearwater," she said after the slightest pause. "I guess this means I won't get a chance to make a great first impression."

He took his seat. "Oh I think you've already made one. Besides, lasting impressions are more important than first impressions, don't you agree?"

"Absolutely." She took a sip of water and the shawl shifted on one side. She efficiently adjusted it. Embry damned himself for immediately looking at her cleavage.

The waiter appeared and rattled off the menu specials. Embry studied Leah as she listened to the waiter's selections. Her skin sure was flawless. Topping the list of flavors to slather on her skin, Embry mentally added Dollops of Whipped Cream and Caramel, which he would place on the tips of her breasts, allowing her body heat to start the white foam to slowly melt—

"And you, sir?"

Embry realized the waiter was ready for his order. Embry randomly made a selection, reminding himself once more that Leah was guilty as sin of stealing from helpless old ladies. Perversely enough, that only made him want to handcuff her to the bed before delving into the whole whipped cream fantasy. He sighed and shoved the tempting images away.

So what if she was sexy and the attraction to her was off the scope? He was a professional. He could handle it. He could definitely handle it.

Once their orders were taken, they were left alone again.

This time when she smiled, the devil had switched the fantasy, making Embry the one with the whipped cream on his body while she licked it off.

He groaned and tried to cover it up with a cough.

Enough.

Playtime was over. He needed to get down to business. Whatever her game was, he was ready to play hardball—and win!

Since it was taking all her acting skills to portray such sophisticated nonchalance, Leah sincerely hoped Embry couldn't tell that she was gawking. The handsome Mr. Call was a far better candidate than she'd ever expected.

At approximately six foot four with wide shoulders, a voice like bourbon, and a face that showed off his ancestry like elegant art. A dimple on his right cheek begged to be licked, and to top it off, the man had a warrior's body that wouldn't quit. He filled out his suit like a bodyguard in a tux. And more than all that combined, she kept replaying the moment she had felt his arousal nestled against her.

It had been so natural and spontaneous that instead of revulsion or panic, she felt… desired.

By far, it was the sexiest, most stimulating embrace she'd ever been in!

Alice would absolutely flip.

If he looked this good in clothes, what would he look like with them off? A tiny part of Leach was panicking. Men like him probably had closets full of notched belts.

So what? Wasn't she here to notch her own belt? And the man was practically heaven-sent. Lord knows his sex factor was off the charts, and ever since she had first crashed into him her breathing kept doing a silly fluttering thing, refusing to return to normal.

Leah glanced around nervously, her fingers toying with the confetti of Break-the-Ice questions that littered the tabletop, obviously provided to prompt conversation. She absently wondered if her acting skills were still as bad as when she was a child.

"Makes you wonder who came up with these questions, doesn't it?" he said, looking amused. "Want to take turns asking each other, 'What's your sign?'"

"My sign?" She couldn't even remember the last time she'd looked at a horoscope. "I don't know."

"Me, either. All right, then let' go with this one." He touched one with his long fingers. "What do you do for a living?"

Easy enough. "I'm an accountant. Not very exciting stuff."

"An accountant," he repeated, and for the life of her, it sounded like an exhilarating, daring occupation. "Taxes or bookkeeping?" Silk or satin? Velvet or lace?

Another blush threatened to blow her cool composure. "A little of both."

"Do you enjoy it?"

"I do, actually. It's sometimes tricky to make the numbers balance. But on the positive slant, some of my clients are surprised by how mismanaged and unorganized their accounts were before they gave me their business."

He nodded and rested his fork on his plate.

"How about you?"

"I'm in the rep business."

"Repo?"

"Repossessions." He shrugged. "It pays the rent." But he didn't expand further.

Leah took a sip of chilled wine, trying to imagine Embry on the job. Exactly how did one confront strangers to inform them they'd defaulted on payments and would now have to return their goods? She'd bet he could look like an intimidating brute if he wanted to. Just the thought of him doing some sweaty roughhousing was enough to—

"How's your salad?" and inquiring waiter interrupted.

Leah kept her gaze on her plate, aiming to look glamorous rather than guilty of an illicit mental quickie. "The salad is delicious. Thank you."

Embry murmured a similar comment.

The piano and sax music filled in the brief pause with a Sammy Davis. Jr. tune while the waiter proceeded to serve the main dish with professional exuberance.

Leah caught Embry's gaze over the candle and felt a flutter in her gut. The dark hues in his eyes changed so suddenly, she searched again, wondering if she had imagined it.

"Is this your first cruise?" he asked.

She sipped more wine, hoping she oozed calm sophistication. "Actually, I've never been on a cruise before, but it sounded much more adventurous and exciting than the stay at home vacations I normally take."

"And how exactly does an accountant define 'adventurous and exciting'? Do you let the numbers fall out of balance a little, move the decimal point over too far, or forget to carry the one over?" His smile was full of teasing charm.

She clung to her wineglass with one hand while strangling the napkin in her lap with the other. "I guess it's the equivalent to all that."

Putting on her best performance, she continued, "And if the numbers fall out of balance, so to speak, then so much the better, right?"

The way he watched her lips was almost tangible.

"Anything I can do to help you out?" he asked, his dimple showing.

His eyes held hers and Leah's heart skipped a beat. Could he mean what she was thinking? "That depends. How do you define excitement?"

He took a moment to think about it. "Fun. Memorable…wet"

"Wet?" A myriad of implications blazed through her mind.

The candle between them flickered. "I could define that for you if you like."

She managed a careless chuckle while holding down her anxiety. Think sexy! "I sure hope you don't mean scuba diving."

Man, she sounded like one of those 1-900-number girls!

His left eyebrow went up and his look became so heated, she felt as if he'd moved to just inches away from her. "Depends on the body of water."

Breathe….

His smile crept into a more intimate grin. "I'd say that most men's fantasies have to do with some form of moisture. Sweat, for example."

The wine she'd been sipping pooled in her mouth and she had to remind herself to swallow.

"Am I being too forward?" He asked.

Yes! "Not at all. Your boldness is refreshing."

"So is yours."

"Although," she ran her fingers up the stem of her wineglass, "I have to wonder whether your, um , services are exaggerated or if you're just quite the smooth talker."

"Worried I'm all words and no action?"

The urge to fan herself was overwhelming. By the intense gleam in his eyes she knew he was testing her, so she replied. "Well, the kind of action I enjoy requires stamina."Go girl! Double or nothing. "Can you handle seven whole days?"

"And seven whole nights." His words positively dripped of sex.

"Verbally impressive."

"Ms. Clearwater. I promise you I don't start anything I can't finish."

She didn't care if he noticed her gulp down her wine that time. "I may have to hold you to that."

"I'm looking forward to it."

The tension in her gut fluttered. Was she out of her mind? How was she ever going to go through with this?

The wine was all but buzzing through her veins, the world was fading behind her boldness, and she was acting out her role for all she was worth. "Mr. Call, just to be perfectly clear, does this mean you'll provide, um stud services for the duration of this cruise?"

With a slight flick of her wrist, the wine in his glass started to spiral a ruby funnel. "That's correct. With the condition that we feel free to indulge in each other's fantasies, Ms. Clearwater."

It was an absolute crime that the waiters interrupted to serve the meal.

The trapped look in Leah's eyes intrigued Embry more than her words had jolted him.

She smiled ever so carefully. "Mr. Call—"

"Embry," he corrected. How many fools had gladly handed over their money when she'd flashed that sultry smile?

"Embry," She peered at him through her fabulous lashes. "I have so many fantasies. Where do I start?"

The monster in his pants suddenly came to attention like a student raising his hand, desperate to shout the answer. Pick me! Pick me!

Once again, the waiter chose that moment to appear and serve up the side dish, which, for all Embry cared might as well have been imported Norwegian chalk.

He eased back in his chair for marginal comfort, waiting for the man to leave, but when he did, only the soft piano notes filled the tension.

"Well," Embry prompted.

"Unlike your, um, wet fantasies, Embry mine have to do with hard heat," she confessed huskily.

Embry wanted to pull her into his lap and make her whisper her fantasies into his ear, detail by detail. Hot. Hard. Heat. Slippery wet. All of them!

Her scarf slipped a little, framing another golden wink from the necklace. Yeah, he needed to get his hands on that too.

"Embry…" she seemed to have trouble saying his name. "I think we should also discuss any," she paused, "basic restrictions. Limitations."

"Such as?" He glanced at his plate and tried to show interest in the tiny salad.

"I'd like to restrict this game to only ourselves. No third parties."

Like I could want anyone esle right. "Not a problem." he had to play it cool.

She poked her fork at the beautiful layout of her meal but only took a small bite. "And if one of us doesn't like where things are going, we have to respect that."

"I would never make you do anything you wouldn't want me to." For as much as his mind was barking orders about business, Embry knew he couldn't walk away from her without sampling what she was freely planning.

The soft candlelight played against her face, enhancing a ghost of a flush that made her look both demure and seductive. Man, oh man.

"Want to add anything?" she asked, shifting the damned scarf again.

"Sure. How about we up the stakes with a prize?"

"Such as?"

"The first one to back down from the challenge automatically forfeits and loses, and has to give the winner a token of his—or her—choice."

She seemed to be thinking about it, then asked somewhat breathlessly." Define challenge."

He shrugged. "Truth or Dare?"

She paused, and he watched her exhale slowly. "OK."

He winked. "Glad you agree to the terms."

She caressed the rim of her wineglass. "I can be quite competitive."

Maybe so, but this was one game he planned to win. "I'd like to think that I am as well, Ms. Clearwater. You'll find that I'm the kind of man who finishes what he starts."

A fragile chime of clinking glass called their attention to the captain, who stood and raised his wineglass and toasted everyone to a "fun and romantic cruise."

"More wine, ma'am?" the waiter asked.

Leah was about to murder him. Why did he keep showing up when she needed him not to?

She checked her attitude and returned his smile. Absolutely my last glass of wine, she told herself.

She made one more stab at keeping the shawl in place. Taking her wineglass, she raised it. It was now or never!

"To stud services," she murmured confidently.

Leah felt as if the world had stopped in shock at her boldness, waiting on the edge of their collective seats for his reply.

The slow turn of his lips made a formidable smile. " 'Stud service' gives the impression that you have the edge in this game , and the truth is… I always play to win."

Ha! Leah could practically hear herself panting. As horny as she was, he would need good medical coverage and a skilled chiropractor by the end of the week.

He leaned back , too. "That OK with you?"

There was the million dollar question. The answer trembled on her breath for half a second. "Yes."

By his cocky expression Leah could only assume that he was already daydreaming about accepting his trophy.

She touched her wineglass to his. "A toast then. To our special game."

"May the best lover win." The pristine clinking of their wineglasses punctuated his comment.

Leah felt trapped in his gaze, the murmur of conversation around them faded for a pause. It was done!

Her teeth clucked against the wineglass when she sealed the toast with a nervous sip of wine. She hadn't really believe she'd do it, but there she was, the fling all but inked on paper!

The bubbly excitement kept expanding in her. As the chilled wine made its way down her throat, Leah suddenly wondered if she'd just sealed a wet deal with a hot devil.