Free Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) by Rebecca Heflin

bouillabaisse in Marseille, and at Laura’s recommendation, to accompany it, a fine red from the Bandol region of France.
    “Mmm.” Nathan swallowed the wine he’d just sipped. “Great recommendation.” He swirled the wine in his glass. Watched as the dark legs ran down the side.
    “I’m glad you like it.” She gazed out at the view. “There’s so much of the world to see and experience. And so many fabulous foods and wines to be tasted.”
    “Here’s to fabulous food and wine.”
    Laura lifted her glass and tapped it to his. Taking a sip, she closed her eyes, and held the wine on her tongue, before swallowing. “Black fruit, vanilla, cinnamon, and leather. Full-bodied and rich.”
    “You’re quite the connoisseur.”
    Laura lifted a shoulder. “I appreciate the craftsmanship that goes into nice things, be they stilettos or fine wine.”
    “I’ve come to appreciate stilettos myself.” A slow grin spread over his features. “Especially when they grace a pair of legs like yours.”
    “Are you flirting with me?”
    “No. Definitely not. I don’t flirt. I woo.” He winked.
    “Woo. Now there’s a word I haven’t heard in, well, ever. Unless you count the occasional steamy historical romance novel.”
    The waiter brought the first stage of the traditional bouillabaisse, the saffron-rich broth topped with croutons, accompanied by a fragrant roasted garlic clove and rouille for spreading on the croutons.
    Nathan lifted a dubious eyebrow.
    “The fish is served separately,” Laura supplied.
    “I knew that,” he said with a sheepish grin. He lifted his spoon, sipped the broth, and nodded. “Delicious.”
    “I’m hurt. You doubted me. Do I look like someone who would steer you wrong in anything to do with the finer things in life?” She waggled her spoon at him.
    “No, ma’am.”
    Why did that Southern courtesy send a little tingle through her? she wondered. “Speaking of sex and that shipboard fling.” Wow. She just gave herself mental whiplash.
    He choked on his bouillabaisse, and placing his spoon in the bowl, wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Give a guy a little warning.”
    “I have a few rules, so there are no misunderstandings.” She set her spoon carefully in her bowl.
    “Rules are good. Let’s hear ‘em.”
    “Rule Number One: I won’t be the other woman.” She let that sink in. “I don’t have flings with married, or otherwise attached, men.”
    “As we’ve already established, I’m not married or otherwise attached.”
    “Good. Rule Number Two: Just because we’re having sex doesn’t mean you get to monopolize my time. Sex is sex, and the rest of our time is our own, unless we mutually agree otherwise.”
    “Understood.”
    “Rule Number Three: This is just a fling. It ends with the cruise, so don’t expect anything once we’re back in the States.”
    “Agreed.”
    “Rule Number Four—and this one’s important: No personal questions. I’m not going to share my deepest, darkest secrets and I won’t expect you to share yours. No stories about our dysfunctional families, our formative years, or our teenage traumas.”
    “Fair enough. Anything else?”
    She thought about it a moment. “Rule Number Five: I pay my way.”
    “No. That’s a deal-breaker.”
    “I won’t have you paying for my meals, or anything else for that matter. I didn’t come on the cruise expecting to find a Sugar Daddy, even if he is Southern. You pay your way, and I pay mine. Then no one is beholden to the other.”
    When he didn’t respond, she ran her foot up his leg almost to his crotch. He jumped at the intimate contact then closed his eyes and groaned.
    “If you want some of this”—she swept her hand up her body—“those are my conditions.”
    “Damn, sugar, you drive a hard bargain.”
    She laughed. “I’m worth it. I promise.”
    He groaned again. “Fine. I’m afraid to ask if there’s anything else?”
    “That about covers it. What about you? Any rules?”
    “Just