Page 7 of Uncharted Desires
“I don’t know yet, but when I decide you’ll be the first to know.”
“That’s cryptic, buddy, but okay, have it your way, keep your secrets. While you sulk, I’m going to at least have a little fun with the models you don’t seem to care about.” Luke set his glass on the mahogany table and walked out of the lounge and down the hall to his cabin.
Declan gave a nod. “I’m off to bed,” he told West, ambling after Luke.
After they’d gone, West stared down the hall for a time. The silence hung heavy in the air like a thick fog, broken only by the sound of revelry coming from above.
Luke had been his best friend for over thirty years, and yet he felt they were losing their connection, moving in different directions. Luke wanted to keep partying, dating models, and living the same life they always had, but West wanted something different. He just didn’t know what that was yet.
He walked over to the bar and ran his fingers along the expensive bottles of whiskey, landing on one he found acceptable. “Widow Jane is the best they got, huh? No Macallan?”
He pulled the cork out and threw it across the room, then headed up to the deck to join the production crew and his band—they were more like family to him than his actual family at this point, and he was ready to lose himself in the music, have a good time, and drink until he couldn’t anymore.
The music had ended, and everyone had gone off to bed. Kat sat on the uppermost deck of the yacht, hugging her legs to her chest, staring out into the inky blackness, watching the moonlight glittering off the expanse of water. The yacht cut through the night like a swift arrow, faster than its usual easy pace, and the cool wind brushed against her skin. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, attempting to capture this moment forever in her memory.
The sudden sound of voices in the dark made her heart race, and she ducked down into the lounge chair. It was still early in the morning—around three or four o’clock—but like many other nights the crew was rounding out their evening with drunken revelry, on the cusp of passing out.
Kat pulled her hoodie closer to her body and tugged the legs down on her linen pants, trying to keep warm in the cool ocean air. Suddenly, a dark figure appeared sat on the chair beside her.
“Seat taken?” a strong masculine voice asked.
“Jesus.” She jumped. “Don’t scare people like that, Weston.”
“Sorry,” he whispered, his lips twitching with a sheepish smile that she could only partially make out in the faint light of the lamps.
“What are you doing awake?” she asked, trying to ignore the bubbling anticipation as her body drew closer to his of its own volition.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, his voice low and thick like honey.
“Typical deflection of the question,” she noted wryly, turning toward him, suddenly aware of how close they were in the dark. The familiar scent of his soap filled her senses, and an electric current seemed to flow between them.
He shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep, I guess.”
“Me neither,” she offered. “It’s going to be hard to go back to reality after all this.” She gestured around her.
“What is reality going to be for you?” he asked.
“Who knows? It’s not like you care,” she said, the hurt in her tone obvious. If she hadn’t been coming down from her buzz, she probably wouldn’t have said anything, but alcohol made her reveal her true feelings.
“That’s not true,” he said almost inaudibly.
Kat stood and stalked away, her peaceful moment ruined. He couldn’t just come around and say things like he cared when he didn’t, and never had. Considering her room was currently occupied, she wasn’t sure where to go, she just knew she needed to be away from him.
“Kat, wait.” West was faltering after her, footsteps unsteady. “What did I say? Why are you walking so fast?”
Kat spun around to face him, their chests bumping against each other before she took a step backward. Her skin tingled at the heat of his body brushing hers. “Oof . . . what are you doing?” She was annoyed and tired, and he was scrambling her brain. She needed to go to bed.
“Me? You’re the one who turned around so suddenly,” he retorted with a smirk.
Kat glared at him in the dim light. “Well, why are you following me so closely? I thought it was clear that our conversation was over. That’s what it generally means when someone walks away. A normal person would get that.”
West raised his hands in surrender, taking a few steps back. “I guess I’m not very normal.” He winked.
Kat scoffed and turned away, but not before taking note of how his golden blond hair shone in the moonlight against his tanned skin.
“Okay, Kat, I’ll leave you alone. I just wanted you to know that I do care about you and the others, and I should have given you a heads-up.”
She sniffed as she felt the familiar burn behind her eyes. But she couldn’t let go of her anger toward him even after hearing his words. She crossed her arms over her chest and muttered, “That would have been a nice start.”