Table of Contents

Book Cover
Author's Notes:
This Book Published in An Earlier Edition?: This book was originally published in 2014 under the same title. This edition has been re-edited and expanded by over 50,000 words.

Book Info

Cover Artist:
Hurri Cosmo
11 March 2021
Book Type
Heat Level


Ryan was shocked when he saw the man who had rescued him from a psychotic co-worker three months ago, a man Ryan had been having very sexy dreams about ever since, standing on the same yacht as he was. Learning the man’s name was Jansen should have rang a few bells but Ryan was never one to keep up with the rich and powerful.

Now this big sexy man seemed to be in hot pursuit, relentlessly and expertly, backing the confused Ryan against a hard wall. Deliciously turned on by the man’s erotically suggestive flirting, Ryan finds himself now in competition with his former girlfriend, vying for Jansen’s attention.

As the heat ramps up, so does Ryan’s self-doubt, forcing Jansen into making it perfectly clear who he intends on taking with him off the boat, even if he has to chase down, subdue and throw that certain someone over his shoulder to do it.

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“Come on, Cheyenne, please? This table is fine.” Ryan tried to whisper the words, incredibly embarrassed the waiter stood right behind him with an anxious frown, basically wringing his hands. He hadn’t had the time or the courage to search and find Jansen Branwyth. All he knew was Jansen did not grace any of the tables closest to this one and so this was the best table in the house as far as he was concerned.

“No! I want one closer to the windows.” She huffed, stomping her small foot and pointing farther into the large space.

“But, Cheyenne, you’ve made it clear you don’t even like Lake Superior. Why do you suddenly have to sit near a window?” Although Ryan would not have minded in the least. But as he glanced in the direction she’d been pointing, his heart began to race. Great. There he sat—at a table totally alone and watching them. Well, watching Cheyenne, which had to be the reason she wanted to sit over there.

And then again, maybe not. The man had actually been flirting with him earlier. Fucking bastard.

And now Cheyenne was making them a spectacle, a show. Damn it.

“I am sorry, ma’am”—the waiter fidgeted nervously—“but this is the table assigned to you and your guest. Please accept my sincere apologies if this table is not to your expectations.”

“No,” Ryan pleaded. “This table is fine. Thank you.” He turned again to Cheyenne. “Please, Cheyenne. Let’s just get through this night, okay?” He took the chair the waiter held for her and told her as best he could with his eyes to sit down.

She stood for a moment glaring at him, then walked to a chair on the other side of the table, most likely so she would face Jansen, and waited for Ryan to come around to seat her. Ryan let out a breath, simply grateful she gave in. Besides, better she face Jansen, because he sure as hell didn’t want to. His stomach was still doing little flips every time he thought about the man. He had a very real longing to talk with Jansen some more, to hear his voice, have his attention, and those strong emotions were extremely confusing and frightening. In the man’s presence, he could handle them. However, outside that direct influence he was more inclined to have a melt down.

He walked shakily over to the chair and pulled it out for Cheyenne. She deliberately and artfully sat, pulling on her too-tight dress and making a show of placing the napkin in her lap.

She glared up at Ryan with murder in her eyes. “Fine,” she said under her breath, “but you owe me.”

Oh dear God, he owed her? As if. Ryan tried to smile, failed, but made his way to the chair he’d originally held for her, sat. Glancing up at the waiter he asked, “Scotch and soda—easy on the soda—please?”

The waiter’s expression was warm and grateful. “Of course, sir.” Then he turned toward Cheyenne, the smile disappearing, returning to nervousness again. “And for the ma’am?”

Cheyenne shot the waiter a glare. “Quit hovering! Bring me a cosmo.”

Ryan touched the waiter’s arm when he turned back to Ryan. “Thank you.”

The waiter beamed. “Please, sir, call me James.” He bowed slightly and left.

“What now, Ryan? You flirting with the wait staff?” She snickered.

Ryan blushed hard yet again. Flirting? Maybe, but not with the wait staff. She had no clue how close to the truth she had come, but it still made him dizzy… and pissed. His drink could not get there soon enough. He had tossed back only that one—well one and a half—before he made his way down to the dining room doors to wait for Cheyenne. Of course, she wasn’t there on time, no big surprise. He’d finally found her upstairs on the other side of the boat, near the back bar.

“What are you doing?” he had asked her. “Why didn’t you meet me at the dining room doors? We’re going to be late.”

She had sniffed, obviously angry for some reason, but it was something she didn’t seem to think Ryan needed to know. And he sure as hell wasn’t going to argue that point. She pasted on her dazzling Cheyenne smile, put her arm through Ryan’s, and tugged him in the direction of the stairs.

“I was just chatting with Jansen. He is such a flirt. It’s a good thing you and I aren’t together any longer because you would have been livid. He asked me to accompany him to the dining room, but I told him I was going to sit with you. However, we will be getting together later for a drink and… well, whatever should follow, I guess.” She giggled. “He is just such a charming man.”

So, he was charming to her too? Flirting with her, as well? Asshole! He asked her to sit with him, and then he asked her on a date? Damn it. Why did it hurt so badly? This had been expected, which was the exact reason he had trained his mind and body not to feel anything. Instead, it felt like a fucking heart attack, a bag of rocks in his stomach, a thunderstorm in his head. Of course, he would pick the girl. Especially the amazing Jansen would pick the gorgeous girl.

I am nowhere near drunk enough for this night.

Cheyenne leaned over the table with an expression of pure disgust. “No kidding? Are you seriously flirting with that male waiter?”

He had been getting those vibes all along. She hated many things but “other than heterosexual” was something to be scorned. So were taxis but that was a totally different story. And even though the battle he waged by himself in the middle of his own mind whether or not he was “other than” would continue, he would no longer support her ridiculous ideals. “The truth is no, even though there would be nothing at all wrong with it. But I really do wish you would stop drooling all over Mr. Branwyth.” And by that he meant himself.

“Really, Ryan?” she murmured, having leaned back again, digging into her small pocket purse for her compact mirror. “Are you jealous? It’s so not like you.” She fussed with her hair, rubbing a finger across her lips. Why did women think primping at a dinner table was ever appropriate?

Suddenly two hands appeared on the table on either side of Ryan and a very hot presence loomed over his head. The heat of the tall body immediately permeated the fabric of his shirt and even before the man spoke, he knew who crowded into his personal space.

“Who is drooling all over me? This beautiful young lady… or this intriguing young man?” The last part Jansen said directly into Ryan’s ear when the man leaned over farther yet, his long hair enveloping them for a moment, making Ryan’s heart skip several beats and his finally cooled-off “demeanor” jump back to attention.

“Jansen!” Cheyenne probably would have clapped her hands if they had been free. She quickly threw her mirror back into her clutch. “How lovely to see you again so soon.”

Ryan was more than shocked and even embarrassed when Cheyenne all but batted her eyelashes at the man. Could she be more obvious? Of course, Cheyenne believed in beating the hell out of the bush as opposed to anywhere around it. Subtle as a November gale, she went full-out after everything she ever wanted. At one point, she had wanted Ryan. Now it was obvious she wanted Jansen.

It was becoming increasingly clear Ryan did as well.

What a fucking turn of events.

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Exclusive Excerpt


“Jansen, is it possible you are dining alone?” Cheyenne could hardly contain herself. Ryan could no longer stand to watch. He picked up his drink.

“Actually, sadly, I am, Ms. Christy.”

Ryan wished the guy would just shut off the fucking sexy voice. Ryan’s pants were becoming uncomfortable and that was pissing him off even more.

“Please, call me Cheyenne.”

Funny, Ryan thought. Her voice sounded awfully strained. He wondered briefly what was wrong, but he refused to look at her. He raised the full glass carefully to his lips. He didn’t want to spill a drop.

Cheyenne continued. “Would you like to join us?”

Ryan sucked scotch right into his lungs and dissolved into a fit of coughing and wheezing, complete with tears.

By the time he got himself under control, a new place setting had already appeared at their table, along with another chair in which Jansen now sat.

“You don’t mind, Ryan, do you? No one should eat alone.” Cheyenne’s tone sounded pouty but well pleased.

Jansen seemed pretty proud of himself as well. “Are you all right? I had the bartender upgrade your drink—a bottle I brought on board from my own private collection. I probably should have warned you. I guess I assumed you would sip, not guzzle.” He chuckled.

Still wiping tears away, Ryan glared at Jansen’s concerned smile. Damn this guy. He obviously flirted with anything that moved. And now he had the audacity to turn it back on him? “That was not the reason I choked, Mr. Branwyth. Thank you, but I never asked you to upgrade my drink.” Ryan’s face felt on fire.

Jansen flinched as if he had been taken back by Ryan’s words. “As if” being the operative words. Even so, good!

“Please, Ryan, call me Jansen, and I know you didn’t ask for the upgrade.” Jansen’s tone seemed apologetic. “But I wanted you to have the best.” He leaned forward, closer. “Like I said, this is from my private collection, not available at the bar. Have you ever had eighteen-year-old Glenlivet?”

Eighteen-year-old scotch? Fuck. Sounded special and… elegant. “No, but—”

“Oh, Jansen!” Cheyenne gushed. “Thank you for your amazing kindness! What did you give me?” Cheyenne had reached out and taken hold of Jansen’s arm. He couldn’t help but turn to her. Then she leaned close while she swirled her finger in her drink, brought her finger to her mouth and proceeded to suck on it with her eyes closed. “Mmmmm. Tastes absolutely fantastic.” She slowly pulled her finger out, then slipped it back in. Again, she opened her mouth so they could both watch her wrap her tongue around the digit, as she continued to moan. Ryan was nearly sick for her sake, mortified to be at the same table. It was apparent of course, what she was doing. She was openly seducing Jansen. And now knowing the real Cheyenne, this little act was stomach turning at best. How could someone so beautiful be so repulsive? He shook his head and looked away. He really couldn’t take this anymore. He needed to escape from this mess.

“Actually, Ms. Christy,” Jansen drawled. “I know little to nothing about vodka. You have the bar pour. Which, from what I understand, is still quite good. I believe it comes from a local distillery.”

Could it be Jansen had not been affected by Cheyenne’s little act? Even so, it was almost worth having witnessed it to see the look of complete and total shock on Cheyenne’s face. But that expression quickly morphed back to seductive after a brief pass through what Ryan would have guessed was anger. Ryan knew the big guns were going to come out now. When Cheyenne had something—or someone—in her sights, she was relentless. He almost felt sorry for Jansen.

“I… I see. Well, I could teach you what you don’t know.” She moved her hand to Jansen’s palm and began using a finger there as well, tracing little circles in a very slow motion. “I’m quite good at teaching… things.”

Ryan startled when Jansen jolted back in his chair. He sat wide-eyed when Jansen’s face turned ashen in color, and then his eyes narrowed at Cheyenne. He wasn’t sure what just happened, but something had.

“I have no doubt you are.” Jansen remarked as he pulled his hand from her touch and turned back to Ryan, as if he were waiting for Ryan to chime in on this stupid conversation.

Ryan just stared at him, not knowing at all what to say. Then suddenly he remembered Jansen asked him a question. “Um… no, I haven’t had eighteen-year-old scotch. Ever. Wow.” Because eighteen-year-old liquor had to be expensive. “I’m sorry, Mr. Branwyth. I mean Jansen. I didn’t mean to be rude. Thank you. This was very kind of you.”

“Not at all and you don’t have to thank me. I wanted to do something nice for you and I was happy to see you like scotch. I knew you would like this.”

Ryan realized Jansen was watching him with a heated stare that did far more for him than Cheyenne’s seductive play with her fingers ever could have. But being that Jansen had also flirted with Cheyenne, even invited her to drinks later, he could not allow himself to be fooled—not by Cheyenne anymore or Jansen Branwyth. Besides, with someone like Cheyenne about to pounce on you, no red-blooded man could resist or would be allowed to escape. He certainly hadn’t. Her persistence wore people down and she always ended up with what she wanted, mostly because people gave in, including him. It was the reason he was here in the first place. He saw all of that now. How utterly fooled he had been. And even though he felt nothing in losing Cheyenne, he was ill to his stomach at not having a chance with Jansen. Sigh.

Ryan closed his eyes for a moment, reining in his emotions and the sting of tears behind his eyes. His mind might get it all now, but neither his tickly nerves nor his body wanted to give up. His entire being seemed to think it was used to this man’s touch after nearly three months of imagining Jansen’s hands and mouth on him. He couldn’t stay at this table. However, to leave, he would have to stand up, and standing would reveal the direction his thoughts had journeyed.

Except, sitting here and watching Cheyenne swoop in for the kill definitely was not possible.




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Hi, my name is Hurri Cosmo and I am a happy ending junkie. I always have been. You can be pretty rest assured everything I write will have one. I am not big on angst. I believe we get enough of that in real life so when I go to read something, to make the real world go away for awhile, I will most likely not chose something that will make me cry. So I write for those people who, at least occasionally, feel the same way. I’m okay with the fact I will probably never write anything “important” but I guess I will have to see where my imagination takes me. I would love it if you would come along.

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