DrillingDownDeep (6 page)

He was probably one of the rare members of his gender,
either gender actually, who had never gotten the hang of masturbation. The
truth was he’d never needed to. Women were as plentiful as he could want from
almost the very first moment he knew he wanted them. Jerking off by his own
hand seemed such a bloodless exercise after that.

But with his recent celibacy, he had been giving it the old
college try once again, more often than not to the thought of his night with
Shelly. The surprisingly sexy Miss Donald would make a refreshing change.

He took his rapidly hardening cock in hand and thought
about…well, about her.

Vanny had been sitting staring at the setting sun and the
waves for a while when she saw a figure approach.

“Hey, Vanny.” Harry Gomez plopped onto the makeshift swing
next to her. It was a porch swing as far away from any porch as one could
imagine.

“Hey yourself.”

Harry was a good guy, a wife and two babies at home to
support on the relatively hefty pay of a driller. “I hear the big boss is
bunking in your cabin tonight. Is that true?”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t let Len get jealous.”

“Fuck you,” she said without heat. “He says he wants the
whole experience. Sharing a cabin and everything.”

“Every guy wants the whole experience with you, baby, but
you keep saving it for the guys on shore.”

“I doubt that’s what Reynolds has in mind. I don’t think I’m
his type.”

“He like girls?”

“How the fuck would I know?”

“He likes girls, then you’re his type, Vanny.”

She scoffed. “I don’t have hair down to my ass and smell of
some fancy-ass perfume.”

“I’m allergic to most perfumes actually.”

Harry popped up from his seat at the voice behind them. “Mr.
Reynolds. I’ll just be on my way.”

“Coward,” she muttered to his fleeing form.

Michael Reynolds, in drawstring pajama pants and a plain
white T-shirt, looked down at her. At least he’d had the sense to put his deck
shoes on. If he’d come out here bare footed, she would have read him the riot
act. He sat down next to her.

“Porch swing. Nice touch.”

She shrugged. “Somebody put it up. I don’t remember when. I
like to sit out here at dusk.”

With a subtle move of his feet, he got the swing swaying
slightly.

“What was all that about?” He jerked his head in the
direction Harry had gone.

“Nothing. He was ribbing me for having you bunk in my
cabin.”

“Why? I thought your regular bunk mate was a man.”

“He was just having some fun. Saying Len would be jealous.
You know.”

“Hmm. Would he be? Jealous?”

“Len? Fuck no.” She saw him flinch slightly. “Oh sorry. I
guess I should watch my language around the boss.”

He gave her a wry look. “I’m not quite as sheltered as you
keep hinting, Vanny.”

“Well, I don’t mean to be disrespectful.”

“Except when you
are
being disrespectful.”

She smiled. “Except then, I guess.”

As he smiled back at her, she let a wisp of the thought
she’d been fighting since he got on this rig into her brain. Fuck, he
was
gorgeous. That black hair and blue eyes and buff bod. Just like she remembered
him. He’d be lucky if
she
didn’t jump
him
tonight. Unfortunately,
what she’d been saying to Harry was probably the truth. Compared to the women
Michael Reynolds hung around with, she was probably as plain as your average
dog, even if she was hot shit among a bunch of roughnecks and roustabouts. When
she’d been all dressed up as Shelly in makeup and wispy black underwear, he
probably didn’t notice much. But now…

Besides, despite that she’d had her share of one-night
stands when she came into her own sexuality, just to prove she could more than
anything else, sex for the sake of sex hadn’t held much appeal for her these
last few years. She’d made an exception when she was filching the reports from
his iPad, not that it did her much good. The iPad if not the sex.

She was as good as a man in any number of areas, including
most anything on a drilling rig, but they won hands down when it came to
heartless no-holds-barred no-consequences fucking. She found, whether it was
because she was a woman or because she had more of her long-dead mother in her
than she’d ever suspected, she couldn’t go about it the same way they did.

So although she bragged about her sexual exploits off the
rig just like the guys did, she was making most of it up these days. And she
sure as hell didn’t publicize the one that really had happened. Her night with
him.

“How old are you, Vanny?” he asked unexpectedly.

“Twenty-six. Why? How old are you?”

“A lot older.”

“Really? What are you, thirty-five?”

“Forty.”

“You don’t look so bad for forty.”

“My beauty treatments are paying off, thank God.”

She glanced at him sideways and realized he was wearing a
sly smile. “You’re kidding.”

“If you say so.” He grabbed his side of the chain link and
swung them higher.

The sun dipped completely below the horizon and the deck
lights automatically responded by becoming brighter. There were row upon row of
white lights, on every deck of the rig, strung from end to end like some crazy
Christmas tree dropped out in the middle of the ocean.

“And I’ve been working out in a fancy-pants gym too,” he
added, mid-swing. “I’m just warning you in case you take it in your head again
to try to knock me on my ass.”

She had a sudden memory of the tight, hard feel of his ass
as she groped it while he pounded between her thighs. Talk about a stress
flashback.

“That was a joke too, in case you couldn’t tell.”

“I know.”

“Good. ’Cause you sort of looked like a deer in the
headlights for a minute there.”

“No. I knew you were joking.”

“If you have to explain that, the joke’s a flop,” he pointed
out.

They swung in silence for a bit and then he offered, “O’Malley
was telling me a little bit about your background.”

Not too much, she hoped. “Old man’s a blabbermouth,” she
said mildly.

“That’s a very unusual upbringing you had.”

She shrugged. “No more so than yours, I’d guess. It looked
like you’d never even seen a bunk bed.”

He laughed. “The truth is I hadn’t. I’m sure this will come
as a surprise to you, but as the oldest son of Damien Reynolds, I had a pretty
privileged childhood.”

“I’m shocked.”

“We did have one thing in common, you and me.”

“Oh yeah? What was that?”

“No mothers.”

“I had a mother!” she snapped and stopped the swing, hard,
with her boot. “She was just dead, that’s all.”

His eyes were very blue as he faced her, with those
ridiculously long lashes. For one minute, she almost thought he was going to
touch her.

But he didn’t.

His comment about not being a shoulder to cry on came back
to her and her chin automatically jerked higher.

“I’m sorry, Vanny. Of course you did. I’ve gotten so hard
about my own mother—my father was always making her out to be a saint and
divorcing wives because they didn’t measure up to her—that I assumed you’d be
as detached. I shouldn’t have made that assumption.”

She shook her head, feeling foolish. Her mother was a
hot-button issue for her. “You’re lucky. My father pretty much didn’t talk
about my mother at all. Not a word. And he never remarried. So I’m afraid I’m
the one who made her out to be a saint maybe.”

“What was she like?”

“The truth is I barely know. Except I look just like her.”

“Beautiful then.”

She shivered then looked him right in the eye. “I’m not so
easy to charm.”

Liar, liar, pants on fire.

“Who’s trying to charm you?” He started the swing going
again and she let him. “I’m just trying to not get knocked on my ass by a
girl.”

“Well, stop flirting with me then.”

“Fair enough. You probably get that enough from the rest of
your coworkers.”

“Not really. Most of them treat me more like a sister or a
daughter.”

“And the ones who don’t?”

“I knock ’em on their ass.”

“I stand warned.”

She stopped the swing.

“I have to go take my shower. I should be done in ten
minutes.” She looked at him, considering.

“You’re not really going to tell me I can’t stay out on the
deck alone are you?”

“You shouldn’t—”

“
You
shouldn’t boss your boss around. Now go on and
take your shower. If I’m not back in the cabin a couple of minutes after you
get out you can send a search party after me.”

She nodded. “Okay. I guess.”

By the time she climbed into the shower, it was inevitable.
She rested her head against the tiles, letting the hot water rain down on her
naked breasts, her belly, and reaching her hand between her legs, she made
herself come, hard.

Unfortunately, not as hard as he had.

The room was completely dark. Darker than any room Michael
had ever slept in. He realized his bedrooms had always sported windows, usually
with a lit-up city view beyond them, and he tended to sleep with the shades or
drapes open. Not in a black cocoon like this. Paradoxically, he found that it
was interfering with him falling asleep, even though the bed had turned out to
be long enough for him after all.

He heard a deep sigh.

Or maybe
she
was interfering with him falling asleep.
The knowledge that she was right below him, stretched out a mere three feet
away. He heard a rustle. It was warm. Had she kicked off her covers?

He’d been concentrating on holding off an erection, since he
couldn’t do anything about it, but he finally just let the image of her
shifting around in the bottom bunk overtake him and let it come. Not that he
let
himself
actually come, of course, but he was thankful for the black
after all since it hid the tent of his own covers over his lap.

Unfortunately, after a few minutes, he discovered a fact
he’d never been cognizant of before. Having an erection that wouldn’t go away
and wasn’t being tended to turned out to be extremely uncomfortable. As quietly
as he could, he climbed off the bed and went into the bathroom, closing the
door behind him and not turning on the light since he didn’t want to disturb
her.

But a second of the pitch-black closed quarters filled him
with a sudden sense of panic. Oh shit. Not now. He groped for the light switch
and when he couldn’t locate it in the dark yanked the door open, not bothering
to stay quiet and, taking a deep breath, headed to the door of the cabin, which
he figured he
could
find in the dark.

He was right. He pried it open, a sliver of light from the
hall coming in, when a palm suddenly slammed it shut and he found himself in
darkness again. He whipped around.

“Now I know why bunkmates have different shifts.” The light
in the cabin came on. “It’s too fucking noisy otherwise.”

With the sudden light, he felt his pulse slowing as he took
another deep breath, his back against the closed door.

“So where do you think you’re going?”

As relieved as he was that his ridiculous panic was
dissipating, having Vanny confront him, her palm on the closed door behind him
as he faced her, reminded him of what had sent him to the bathroom to begin
with and that sure as hell
wasn’t
dissipating. In fact, the actual sight
of her in a thin white camisole and short shorts inspired his cock to further
painful hardening. He didn’t know she slept in such a skimpy get-up since she’d
already been in bed when he’d come back to the cabin.

This whole bunking thing in retrospect had been an extremely
bad idea on his part.

She glanced down at his impossible-to-miss erection, but if
he’d expected any missish dismay or discreet pretense that she didn’t notice
what was right in front of her, he’d apparently forgotten who he was talking
to.

“I expect that’s another reason for that different shift
thing.”

He shook his head, not sure he’d ever been embarrassed by an
erection before.

She pushed off the door and folded her arms over her
breasts, which he appreciated since otherwise he was having a hell of a time
keeping his eyes off them.

“I’ve seen a woodie before, Mr. Reynolds.”

The juvenile name for it almost caused him to laugh.

“And I don’t know why you were heading out of the cabin,
maybe it was so you could jerk off in peace, but I told you before that
wandering around on the rig by yourself is not safe for somebody not familiar
with it.”

He was glad one of them could be so cold-blooded about this.
He tried to recapture some of his dignity. “I wasn’t leaving to
jerk off
,
as you so delicately put it. I could do that in the bathroom,” he pointed out.

“Why didn’t you then?”

“I couldn’t find the light switch,” he muttered, which was
sort of the truth.

She laughed and nodded her head toward his erection. “You
need a light to find your own cock? I’d say that one would be pretty easy to
find, dark or not, especially when it was all perked up like it is.”

She walked over to the bathroom and flicked on the light.
“Be my guest.”

Then she climbed back into her bunk.

He wasn’t used to explaining himself and he sure as hell
wasn’t used to being embarrassed. But if he explained the real reason he’d shot
to the door so fast, embarrassment would be the least of it. He’d never told
anyone about his…his… whatever it was. No need to. She could go ahead and think
what she wanted, having caught him with an erection.

A good defense being an offense, he said, “I don’t doubt for
a minute you’ve seen a
woodie
before, but I don’t exactly go around
exposing myself to my employees like this.”

She laughed, her eyes closed, and pulled the covers up to
her chin. “I sure hope not.”

Maybe he should just drop it. “Look, I don’t sleep with
employees. I just don’t.”

“Don’t recall asking you to.”

He cocked his head. Something about that was so familiar.
Before he could put his finger on it, she opened her eyes and added, “I’m just
razzing you. It’s your own fault for insisting on bunking in here with me.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Any port in a storm, eh?”

“What?”

She sat up, hunching over to keep her head from hitting the
bottom of his bunk. “There aren’t any women on board but me, unless you include
old Mrs. Kelly and Mrs. Rather who work in the kitchen and I suspect they’re
even less your type than I am.”

“What makes you think you’re not my type?” It was out before
he could stop himself.

“If you don’t sleep with employees, you better stop flirting
with this one or I’ll put that to good use.” She nodded again at his erection.

He was used to women coming on to him. They did it all the
time and always had. Money was a powerful aphrodisiac. But for some reason, he
didn’t read her comments as coming on to him. He didn’t know why. Maybe it was
because, from as little acquaintance with her as about seven hours, he was
convinced that if Vanny Donald wanted to come on to a man, she’d be more
upfront about it. No games or subtle word play.

He found something about that wildly appealing. He cleared
his throat. “Unfortunately, there are considerations like sexual harassment
and—”

“For Christ sake, would you shut up? I don’t think I like
you when you’re being all prissy like this.”

“Don’t tempt me,
Miss Donald.
”

She lay back down and muttered, “Don’t tempt yourself,
Mr.
Reynolds.
Just go in the bathroom and jerk off and be done with it. I, for
one, have work to get to tomorrow morning.
”

He lingered at the door then opened his mouth again. What
was it about her that made him keep explaining himself? “Okay, I
was
fantasizing
about having sex with you. I admit it.”

“Surprise. Surprise.” Her eyes were closed. “I’ve been
around men my whole life. There’s nothing you can tell me that’d shock me.”

So he tried to. To shock her—and blurted out the truth in
the process. “But I wasn’t leaving the cabin because of that. I have
claustrophobia.”

Her eyes shot open.

“A mild case of it. Extremely mild. Almost not there.
Actually, I don’t even know if claustrophobia is the right name for it.”

As he was stammering on, she sat up and got out of the bunk,
leaning one arm against the bed post. But with her full attention on him, he
found he couldn’t go on.

“Yeah?” she finally said.

“What? That’s it.”

“Well, that’s nothing to be ashamed of.” Then she added
fiercely, “Unless you’re making that up to get my sympathy.”

He scowled. “What kind of men do you hang out with, Vanny?”

“Are you?”

“No! Of course not. Why would I make something like that up?
It’s ah, it’s, well, it’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Yeah. I guess you’re telling the truth. Your erection’s
calming down.”

He glanced down, shaking his head. “Well, thank God for
small favors.”

“That was no
small
favor,” she cracked and he laughed
again.

“You’re really very funny. And I’m not flirting with you,”
he hastened to add.

“Don’t worry. I know you’re not. So how long have you had
this, this claustrophobia?”

“I’m not sure it’s—”

“Relax! Whatever it is.”

Vanny may have been different than most women he’d ever met,
but she appeared to share one thing in common with them. She loved confessions.

And like most men, he was generally not inclined to give
them. But hell, he’d already started anyway. If he read about this in the
National
Enquirer
soon—
Tycoon’s Secret Terror Revealed
—it was his own fault.

“I guess I’ve had it since I was a kid. I don’t know really.
The first time I remember noticing it was when I hid in a closet when my little
brothers and I were playing hide-and-seek. I shut the door and it was dark and,
I don’t know, I panicked. You’d be amazed, though, at how easy it’s been for me
to avoid it since.”

“Not a lot of hiding in closets these days?”

“No. And it’s ridiculously easy for a rich guy to get around
without getting trapped in small, dark, closed spaces.”

“You have brothers?”

“Quite a few. Remember what I said about my father trying to
replace my mother? That led to a lot of half-siblings. There’s nothing that
says hefty alimony quite so much as having a kid right away. Most of my
stepmothers did it before my father could even divorce them.”

She shook her head. “That’s pretty cynical.”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Maybe they were really trying to make
him fall in love with them. I don’t know. I wasn’t old enough for most of them
to tell, only the last really, my little sister’s mother.”

“And a sister too? Wow, you seem almost human.”

“You should never talk to my sister then. She spent almost
her whole life convincing herself I wasn’t.”

“Why?”

“I was too
prissy
with her, I guess.”

She laughed. “Don’t press your luck and tell me I remind you
of your little sister. I won’t believe that one.”

“No, you shouldn’t.”

She stared at him, as if expecting him to continue, a slight
smile on her face, and she was such a pretty picture, he did. “So what about
you? You said your father never remarried, but even I’m not prissy enough to
think that means you couldn’t have any siblings.”

“No, a vasectomy took care of that. Apparently right after
my mother died. It kind of hurt my feelings when I found out about it. Sort of
like he didn’t want to have any kids because I was such a burden or something.
But when I got older, I realized it really just meant he didn’t want any kids
with anyone
but
her. Not that he didn’t go around fucking everything
that moved.”

“Well, our fathers have that in common then, though mine
might be slowing a bit. He’s eighty.”

“Yeah, well, mine too.”

He stared at her, but she didn’t elaborate. Instead, she
said, “What do you say now you don’t have an erection we try to get some
sleep?”

“What do
you
say if I find that empty cabin O’Malley
tried to put me in when I got here? No offense, but I think we’ll both be a lot
more comfortable that way.”

“No offense taken. I’d have to agree with you. You got quite
a—”

“Hey, whatever you were about to say,” he interrupted
quietly, “I’d advise against it unless you’re trying to invite me into breaking
my cardinal rule.”

She didn’t ask which one.

“I’m not one of the boys, Vanny.”

For one wild irresponsible second, he wanted to break his
own rule.

“Yeah, that’s the problem, Michael.”

She led him out of the cabin and down the hallway. He’d get
his stuff tomorrow.

But as he closed the door on his solitary cabin, he wondered
what had been so odd about the way she said his first name.

* * * * *

Vanny knocked on Michael’s door the next morning and he
opened it a second later to her relief. Good. She hadn’t woken him up. He
looked tousled and sexy, but definitely awake.

She handed him his briefcase and his overnight bag. “Special
delivery,” she said, feeling oddly shy.

He smiled. “Thanks. I was going to be right down. I thought
you might start early.”

“Yeah.” As he dropped his bag on a bunk and his briefcase on
the chair, she added without thought, “You should be more careful with your
briefcase.”

He raised one black eyebrow.

“I mean, you know, your papers and your…” Shit. Why the hell
had she said that? “Anyway, I’m just going down to get a little something to
eat. Breakfast isn’t served for another hour or so, but I can scare up some coffee
and maybe a bagel if you want me to bring anything back.”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks, Vanny. I’ll get dressed and then
decide what I’ll be doing. I should probably get back.”

“Yeah, sure, of course.”

“Go on down to breakfast. I’ll get dressed.”

“Oh sure. Yeah.” She fairly stumbled away to the sound of
the door shutting.

Could anyone say
awkward
?

Whatever kinship they’d felt last night had apparently worn
off as Michael Reynolds donned his big CEO hat again.
The jerk.
She
wished he’d never come for his fucking tour. She wished she’d never been to his
stupid old penthouse.

She wished—

She stopped herself mid-thought. She was so totally not
going to do this.

The galley was deserted, as she’d expected. Helping herself
to a cup of coffee from the ever-present urn in the corner, she went back out
into the empty cafeteria and took a seat in the farthest corner she could find
in case anybody else should wander in while she inhaled her caffeine. She
didn’t feel like making small talk. She poured one of those mini cartons of
cream into her coffee and stirred aggressively with the little stick they put
next to them for just that purpose. And when she was done stirring, she put the
stick in her mouth and chewed for a second. Damn.