Friction [Anthology] PDF
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A Total-E-Bound Publication www.total-e-bound.com Friction Anthology ISBN # 978-1-907010-72-9 Cruising ©Copyright J.P. Bowie 2009 Maximum Exposure ©Copyright Jenna Byrnes & Jude Mason 2009 Yes! ©Copyright Kim Dare 2009 Sorry Charlie ©Copyright Ashley Ladd 2009 Heat of the Night ©Copyright SL Majors 2009 One Night Stand ©Copyright Cassandra Gold 2009 Cover Art by Natalie Winters ©Copyright August 2009 Edited by Claire Siemaszkiewicz, Michele Paulin, Christine Riley, Jessica Bimberg Total-E-Bound Publishing This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Total-E-Bound Publishing. Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Total-E-Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution. The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork. Published in 2009 by Total-E-Bound Publishing 1 The Corner, Faldingworth Road, Spridlington, Market Rasen, Lincolnshire, LN8 2DE, UK. Warning: This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has been rated Total-e-burning. FRICTION ANTHOLOGY Cruising J.P. Bowie Maximum Exposure Jenna Byrnes & Jude Mason Yes! Kim Dare Sorry Charlie Ashley Ladd Heat of the Night SL Majors One Night Stand Cassandra Gold CRUISING J.P. Bowie Dedication For Phil – always Trademarks Acknowledgement The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction: Alcoholics Anonymous: Alcoholics Anonymous World Services, Inc. Holiday Inn: Six Continents Hotels, Inc. Dramamine: G. D. Searle & Co. Corp. Dumpster: Dempster Brothers, Inc. Venetian Hotel: Venetian Casino Report, LLC Caesar’s Palace: Caesar’s World, Inc. CRUISING J.P. Bowie 6 Chapter One I stood dockside in Port Canaveral, Florida, gazing up at the ship I would call home for the next six months or, perhaps, even longer. The smartly painted blue and white hull towered over me, its lower decks dotted with portholes, its upper decks with larger windows. As I craned my neck, I felt a quiet surge of excitement and anticipation course through my body. I could make out the white uniforms of the ship’s officers as they strolled back and forth on the topmost deck. I’d later learn this was called the bridge—but as I’d never been onboard a ship before, all of that jargon was still to be learned, along with the protocol and the expected discipline of life afloat, far from the laws and jurisdiction of mainland America. “So, what do you think, Adam?” I turned to look at the guy standing next to me, Tom Hathaway, the man who had hired me to manage the ship’s casino. “Very impressive,” I said, smiling at Tom. “I think that The Maiden of the Seas and I are going to get along very well. She’s just what I need right now—a lady who’ll help me forget all the shit that’s been going on in the last year or so.” Tom grinned. “Are you telling me you’re into ladies now?” “No, you know as well as I do, that’s not going to happen—at least, not in the way you mean. Although, after what Randy put me through, it might not be a bad idea to have a complete change of life, along with a new job, a new home…” “And pussy instead of cock,” Tom added, chuckling. “Well, if you’re really interested, I can fix you up tonight when we get back to the hotel.” I laughed, and smacked Tom lightly on the shoulder. “Don’t waste your time. I’m not that depressed.” I took another long look at the cruise ship. “When do we go on board?” “Tomorrow morning. There’s a crew meeting at nine o’clock, in the theatre.” Tom gave me a serious look. “Just make sure all the dealers are there, and without hangovers if possible. The captain’s a real stickler for the rules and regulations. Howard wants us all to make the right impression from day one.” CRUISING J.P. Bowie 7 Howard Marsden was the casino concession owner, a Miami attorney who I’d gotten on well with on our one and only meeting but was known to have a nasty temper if those he relied on didn’t come through according to his wishes. I nodded. “Let’s both keep an eye on them tonight. That hotel bar is a well known pickup spot. I don’t want to crimp their style, but you know these guys once they’ve had a few.” I was talking into the wind. After a couple drinks, Tom was just as likely to lead the way to where angels fear to tread—mainly the hotel bar filled with delectable ladies of easy virtue. I only hoped I could keep Tom and the young male casino dealers from getting too drunk and being unable to make the meeting in the morning. The hotel at Cocoa Beach was a lively place after five o’clock, the bar filling up early for happy hour. I spotted two of the dealers already leaning over the bar talking to the pretty bartender. “John, Jeff—a word please.” I beckoned them from the bar entrance. “Hey, boss.” Jeff Edwards, tall, broad shouldered and amiable, grinned at me. “Join us for a drink?” “Not right now, thanks. Listen guys—tomorrow we have an important meeting on board the ship. Howard’s going to be there, and the captain expects us all to be in attendance—no excuses. So please don’t get hammered tonight. I need you all to be on your best behaviour.” “No problem,” John Bowers said. Almost as tall as Jeff, the two had worked together in Vegas, and I was well aware of their reputation as ‘pussy-hounds’. They were both good looking guys with great smiles but as reliable as a broken alarm clock. I was still a little miffed that Tom hadn’t consulted me during the hiring process. John and Jeff were nice enough guys, but I could smell the trouble they’d cause a mile off. “Okay…” I tried to put away my fears. “Tell the other guys what I said. Tom’s taking a nap, but he’ll be down later to take you all to dinner.” “Cool,” John said. “Don’t worry, boss, we’ll be good boys—honest.” “Thanks. See you later.” As I walked away, I hoped that maybe this time they meant what they’d said. Why couldn’t I believe it? I went up to my room and took a long shower. The hot spray on my tense body felt good. It had been a long, couple days spent packing then flying first to LA from Las Vegas CRUISING J.P. Bowie 8 then on to Miami where Tom had picked me up and we’d driven to Port Canaveral, Tom yacking non-stop. Suddenly Randy and Vegas seemed a long way away, and as far as I was concerned, that was a good thing. The last year had been hell. Randy’s drinking had escalated to a frightening degree. He’d totalled two cars, including mine, and had only narrowly escaped getting a DUI. I had left him after one helluva row when he’d refused to get help from Alcoholics Anonymous. “I’m not an alcoholic,” he’d raged at me. Denial, thy name is Randy, I had mused on more than one occasion. Truth was, I just didn’t want to be involved anymore. I’d fallen out of love with Randy long before the last two incidents and had only stayed around in the hope that I could somehow help him get over his addiction. But you can’t help someone who doesn’t want your help. Towelling off, I studied my appearance in the mirror. At thirty-one, and despite the many sleepless nights I’d spent recently worrying about Randy, I guess I didn’t look too bad. My dark brown wavy hair had a stray grey strand here and there, and the lines at the corners of my blue eyes had deepened. Not quite crow’s feet, but getting there. Tom had told me there was a workout room onboard I could use. That would help keep my body toned and in good shape. No reason to go to pot—especially now that I was single again. I slung the towel around my hips and wandered across the room onto the balcony. It was a beautiful night. Mid-March in Florida was obviously a perfect time of year. The sun was just setting, flinging shards of crimson and gold across the darkening sky and onto the shimmering ocean below. “Beautiful,” I murmured to myself, taking in the view. “Ciao…uh, I mean, hello there.” I turned, startled by the voice so near it made me jump slightly. “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” I looked at the young man standing on the next balcony. Wow, what a honey. He was tall and slender. Late twenties, I guessed, tightening the towel around my hips with a self- conscious move. “That’s okay,” I said, smiling. “I was just admiring the view.” And I still am. CRUISING J.P. Bowie 9 “Beautiful, isn’t it?” The young man flashed me a smile. “Vittorio,” he said, leaning on the balcony rail and reaching across to shake my hand. “Adam Brenner.” The hand I shook was warm and strong, and the eyes I stared into were brown—and beautiful. “Vittorio,” I said. “Nice name.” “Italian. Vittorio Borghese. I just flew in from Milan yesterday.” “Oh—you’re on vacation?” Reluctantly, I released Vittorio’s hand. “Not really—although I think this job might be a pleasant change from the usual. I’m a ship architect. I’ll be sailing on one of the cruise ships to design some renovations.” “Really?” I couldn’t take my eyes off him. His good looks and sexy accent were definitely getting me interested. “I’m working on a cruise ship—The Maid of the Seas. It wouldn’t happen to be…” Vittorio clapped his hands together. “What a coincidence.” His face was wreathed in smiles. “That is the same ship I’m on. We must celebrate our meeting. Can I buy you a drink downstairs?” “It’s a date,” I said happily. “I’ll just go throw on some clothes, and I’ll meet you down there.” “If you insist—about the clothes, I mean.” Vittorio’s flirtatious laugh was infectious. “Uh…” I chuckled then said, “I think I’d better—just so I don’t upset the management.” Not wanting to waste any time, I ran inside, pulled a white T-shirt and blue jeans from my suitcase and dressed quickly, slipping a pair of sandals onto my feet. After a spritz of cologne and a quick look in the mirror, I headed for the door. * * * * When I entered the crowded bar, it took me a little time to locate Vittorio. The first sight to hit my eyes was Tom and the dealers already involved in raucous laughter and obviously well on their way to having one bitch of a collective headache in the morning. Oh, well... “Adam!” I looked towards the call and saw Vittorio waving at me from a corner booth. God, but this guy is even better looking than I remember, I thought as I pushed my way through the CRUISING J.P. Bowie 10 crowd. He was also wearing a T-shirt, ice blue, that showed his nicely defined chest to great effect. “Hi.” I slid into the booth beside him. “You were lucky to get this seat.” “I used a little influence,” Vittorio said, touching my hand. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered us a bottle of champagne. I didn’t know your preference, but champagne seemed right for a celebration.” “I love champagne,” I said, smiling at the handsome man beside me. “I also love the idea we’re celebrating our first meeting.” “Our first date,” Vittorio remarked with a flirtatious wink. “That’s what you said it was.” “I did?” “Yes, I remember it vividly. ‘It’s a date,’ you said.” Vittorio poured the champagne into two glasses. “And now, Adam, our first drink on our first date. Saluti...” “Cheers.” We toasted one another before raising our glasses to our lips. I couldn’t take my eyes off Vittorio’s beautiful face as he sipped his champagne. Our eyes met over the rim of our glasses, and I felt a shiver of delight run the length of my spine and a definite hardening inside my jeans. I got even harder as Vittorio leaned in closer on the pretext of whispering something but instead kissed me under my ear. There was no doubt where this evening was going. The touch of Vittorio’s warm lips almost sent me over the edge. I wanted to jump him right there and then—but we were in a straight bar so… “What do you say we take this champagne up to my room?” I asked, my voice becoming decidedly husky with desire. Vittorio’s smile was captivating. “I say that is a wonderful idea.” I guessed our departure would go unnoticed by Tom and the dealers who were even louder than before. No doubt those guys were going to tear up the town—but right then, I couldn’t have given a toss what their fate might be. On the way up in the elevator, I had a sudden thought. “Uh, would you mind if we used your room? I have a nasty feeling there might be several drunks pounding on my door later.” Vittorio chuckled. “And we can’t have that kind of interruption, can we? My room it is.”
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