Raven LaCroste’s thirty-year monogamous relationship ends with her husband’s death. She reverts to the celibacy of her youth, and she’s content with the lifestyle, until she learns her writing group is sponsoring a cruise. She signs up with expectations of exploring new depths to her sexuality.
First night at sea, she meets Jamal Whitaker. They get busy, but the night ends with a bitter quarrel. Next morning, she has a fall…it’s no accident. Hours later, someone tries to kill her.
Suspecting Jamal, and distrustful of most of her fellow writers, Raven consults new member Anthony Corbett, an attorney with a background in law enforcement. He agrees to help, and she accepts, unaware he has his own agenda for coming to her aid.
The door closed behind him with a subtle click. He stormed across the room, and in a fit of temper, he swept everything off the table. Books, pens, and magazines went flying.
“Bitch…bitch…bitch!” he snarled as he paced the confined space, finally coming to a stop in front of the vanity mirror. He stared at his reflection and the cold fury etched into his features.
He’d gone after her twice and she kept bouncing back, hardly a scratch on her. The first time had been a test run to check out her vulnerability. She had gone down easily enough, which had led him to believe the steps would do the deed. She wasn’t supposed to have that much strength in her arms, but the bitch had held on.
If it hadn’t been for the fear of someone seeing him, he would have finished her off out there on deck. Damn! He banged his head with his fist. What a wuss. Couldn’t do one woman, half his size, for godssake, she’s a damn cripple. With a look of disgust, he whirled away from the mirror and slipped off his shoes, then sauntered over to the bed, and threw himself down across it.
Hell. It wasn’t as though he had a plan, he was improvising, so why beat himself up. With the bitch and her nosy-ass friend in separate groups, he’d have eight days and ample opportunities to catch her on her own, and get it right. Although…he couldn’t make another move on her too soon after the first two mishaps, so tomorrow, he’d give it a rest. The day after, while docked in Costa Rico, with most of the passengers going ashore, he’d have an easy shot at her—end game. He could get on with enjoying the cruise.
A slow smile eased the tension in his jaw. Writers…always ready to indoctrinate the newbie, such easy prey, and he had his eye on several viable prospects for his customary indulgences, so the trip wouldn’t be a total waste.
