“You’re right. It was bad at first. The difference is, now I won’t be crushed.”
“And how’re you going to prevent it?” Maya watched her and Mia thought that sometimes she really hated how her sister knew her so well.
“Because I won’t let myself. I learned my lesson. I’m not going to believe in Sam again.”
Maya continued to study her silently for several long seconds, then finally nodded. “Okay then. I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Go ahead. In fact,” Mia said suddenly, “I’ll bet you twenty bucks that I’ll leave this cruise Sam-free and my heart in one glorious piece.”
That wasn’t entirely true and Mia knew it. Just thinking about Sam brought up images of them together in her mind. She felt the heat of the flames licking at her blood and the ache inside her only grew. The next two weeks, being so close to Sam was going to be the hardest thing she’d ever done.
But any pain she felt...this time she would hide it from the family and instead bury it so deep within that she’d never really have to face it herself.
Quickly, her twin said, “I’ll take that bet.”
“Thanks for your support,” Mia said wryly.
“Hey, twenty bucks is twenty bucks.” Maya sighed a little. “And the truth is, Sam is your Kryptonite.”
“He used to be,” Mia corrected, ignoring the memory of the blast of heat that had seared her during that kiss she’d shared with him. She wouldn’t allow him to be that important to her again.
Mia had plans for her life. And to make sure those plans came to reality, she had to get Sam to sign those divorce papers. Keeping that thought firmly in mind would see her survive this cruise without letting her heart drop into Sam’s lap.
“Well,” Maya said, “now that we have that settled, do you think it would send the wrong message if Buddy was hidden in the liquor cabinet?”
Laughing, Mia pushed thoughts of Sam out of her mind and concentrated on the magical elf instead. At least for the moment.
* * *
The next day, Sam met with Kira Anderson, the navigation officer, on the prow of the ship. Out there, with only the wind and the sound of the sea slapping against the hull, Sam fought to concentrate as she walked him through the latest weather reports.
“It looks as though we might catch a break,” she was saying as she pointed to the graphic she’d printed out. “The storm isn’t a big one, and it’s moving at a pretty good clip. About a half hour ago, it shifted position here, heading further out of our path.” She pointed to one of the red lines on the paper. “There’s still a chance it will swing around and be waiting for us. But right now, it looks as though we’ll miss it.”
Sam studied the paper she handed him. Only their second day at sea and already a storm was brewing. Both on and off the ship, he thought wryly. Hell, with Mia here, everything had shifted and Sam was still trying to find his sea legs. He hadn’t slept the night before, because every time he closed his eyes, he saw Mia. That kiss was still lingering on his lips and the burn she engendered in him had him feeling as though he was on fire.
Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts aside and looked at Kira. “And what if we don’t miss it? How big a storm are we talking about?”
She considered that for a moment and looked out at the ocean as if looking for confirmation before turning back to him. “Nothing that could endanger the ship or passengers, sir. But it could make the ship’s doctor really busy doling out seasick pills.”
His lips twitched. Didn’t matter what time of year they were sailing, there was always going to be at least one night when the waves were high, and the winds strong enough to turn even the most practiced sailor into a whimpering shadow of himself, praying for death.
“All right,” he finally said, handing back the papers. “Monitor closely and keep me in the loop about what you’re expecting.”
“Yes, sir.” She practically saluted before turning to head back to the bridge.
“And Kira,” he called out and waited for her to stop and turn to him before adding, “I want to know your best prediction by seven. Let’s give our guests time to prepare. I don’t want anyone unnecessarily scared over this.”
“Understood.” She nodded and hurried away.
Alone again, Sam thought about the possible storm and scowled to himself. He wasn’t worried about what might happen. Sam had been sailing all of his life and faced the worst storm he’d seen before or since when he was fourteen.
He’d taken his skiff out alone, wanting to escape a house that had felt like a prison. Sam had been sailing for two hours when the clouds rolled in. Lightning punched the sky, rain fell as if it’d been poured from an upturned bucket. Fear was a living thing inside him.
Visibility was so bad he didn’t know which way the shore was and he knew that one wrong decision and his boat would be pushed out into the open ocean with chances of a rescue slim. But he couldn’t do nothing, either. The waves had battered his small boat until he was sure it would fall apart.
So he made a decision and headed toward what he hoped was the shore. He was out there, in the storm, alone, for what felt like years, though it was only an hour before he landed on the beach, exhausted, wet and cold.
By the time he’d walked home, it was late and his father was waiting. The old man didn’t want to hear about the storm. He said Sam was irresponsible. He didn’t deserve a damn boat and he wouldn’t be getting another one. And if he didn’t know enough to stay out of the ocean during a storm, he’d send Sam to a private school in the desert. Dear old dad had made it clear that night, just how low Sam was on his list of priorities.
But if one good thing had happened that night—besides surviving that storm—Sam had finally accepted that his father didn’t give a damn about him. He was on his own and the sooner he stopped waiting for someone to care, the easier it would be. The memory faded away and Sam realized his hands were fisted around the iron railing. Deliberately, he relaxed his grip.
“Yeah,” he muttered now. “Hell of a role model, Dad.”
Shutting off the ancient images in his mind, he looked down at the pool deck. There were kids everywhere of course, with the ship lifeguards on red alert. Adults strolled the deck, huddled by the pool bar or tried to lounge in the water in spite of the splashing and shrieking coming from the kids.
The sky was blue and dense with heavy white clouds. Waves crested and fell across the surface of the water and made Sam wonder if they were closing in on that storm faster than Kira had thought.
Then Sam spotted Mia’s parents. He took a breath and let it out again as he studied the couple. They were at a rail, staring out over the ocean. At five foot ten, Henry Harper was a good six inches taller than his wife, Emma. He had his right arm draped across his wife’s shoulders and she was leaning into his embrace. A unit. That’s how Sam had seen them from the beginning. They could have been alone in the world instead of on a cruise ship filled with Christmas-hyped kids.
And a part of Sam envied them their unity. The Harpers had welcomed him into their family when he married Mia. But he seriously doubted whether that welcome was still alive and well. Actually, he knew it wasn’t. Knew that when he left Mia, the Harper family had left him.
Yet they were here, on his boat and trying to avoid them for the next couple of weeks would be ridiculous.
“Besides,” he muttered as he headed for the closest staircase that would take him to the pool deck, “they should be thanking me.” Staying married to Mia would have been a disaster. By leaving, he’d spared her a hell of a lot of pain further down the road.
“Sure. They’re going to believe that,” he said to himself. Hell, even he had a hard time with it.
Sam walked a wide berth around the pool area, then headed for the Harpers. As if sensing his approach, Henry turned his head and pinned Sam with a cold stare.
Sa
m kept walking, though it felt as though he was making his way through a minefield. When he was close enough, he said, “Hello Henry, Emma.”
Henry nodded. Emma didn’t so much as twitch. It was as if Sam was invisible to her.
The sun was bright, the wind was cold and the air was filled with the kind of noise only twenty or thirty kids could make.
“Sam,” Henry said, giving him a brief nod. The man’s reddish-brown hair whipped in the wind and the green eyes he’d passed on to his daughters focused on Sam. “Didn’t expect to see you.”
“Really? I thought that was why you’d come on this trip with Mia. To see me.”
“No.” Henry shook his head. “We’re here to make sure you don’t hurt our girl again. That’s all.”
Sam gritted his teeth against that verbal slap because he respected Henry. He wouldn’t argue with the older man, and how could he? He had hurt Mia. But he’d hurt her far less than he might have if they’d been married longer.
He glanced at Emma, who hadn’t once shifted her gaze from the ocean to him. Sighing, he turned his gaze back to Henry. “Okay then. I won’t keep you. I only wanted to let you know, we may be heading into a storm later.”
Henry took a brief look at the sunny sky and the water, choppy, but hardly threatening, before saying, “Is your boat up to it?”
Sam laughed shortly and tucked both hands into his pockets. “Every one of the Buchanan boats are built for stability as well as comfort.”
“Stability,” Emma repeated.
Sam’s gaze switched to her, but she wasn’t looking at him. Frowning a bit, he said to Henry, “We’ll be safe, but it could be a rough night.”
Henry looked around at the people enjoying the day, then said, “You’re not telling the other passengers?”
“We will, later. If it looks as though we can’t avoid the storm.” Sam winced when a wet beach ball smacked the middle of his back. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a young boy hurry after the ball before heading back to the pool. Focusing on Henry again, he said, “I didn’t see the point in worrying everyone until we knew for sure.”
“But you didn’t mind worrying us?”
“That’s not what I meant.” Of course, that’s how Henry would see it. But the truth was, Henry was a coolheaded person and wasn’t inclined toward panic. “I knew you weren’t the kind of man to overreact.”
“Uh-huh.” Henry watched him. “Think you know me, do you?”
Confused and a little wary, Sam said, “Yes. I do.”
“Well,” Henry told him, “I once thought I knew you. But I was wrong. So you might be as well.”
“Henry—” Sam didn’t know what he could say. Hell, what he wanted to say. But it felt as though he should be trying, somehow.
“No,” the older man said, dropping his arm from Emma’s shoulders. “I didn’t get my say when all this blew up. You just walked out on my daughter and acted like the rest of us didn’t exist.”
“I figured you wouldn’t want to see me.”
“You weren’t wrong.”
Sam really didn’t want this confrontation, but there was no way to avoid it now. Thankfully, with the crowd around the pool, the noise level was high enough that it would keep anyone else from listening in. Pulling his hands free of his pockets, Sam folded his arms across his chest and met Henry’s gaze straight on. “Mia asked me for a divorce. I gave her one.”
“And why’d she need that divorce, Sam?” Henry tipped his head to one side and stared at him. “Could it be because you didn’t mind having a wedding, but you really didn’t want to be married?”
That skimmed a little too close to home. “I’m not getting into any of it, Henry. That’s between me and Mia.”
“You making my girl cry over you?” Henry countered. “That makes it my business, too.”
She’d cried. Of course she had. Sam hadn’t let himself think about that because he just couldn’t take the image of a teary Mia. Especially knowing it was his fault. If he’d never married her, none of this would be happening.
But he’d been so blinded by desire—by feelings he’d never known before, he hadn’t been able to stop himself even when he knew he was risking disaster for both of them. Sam had known that Mia wasn’t a ‘temporary’ kind of woman and so he’d tried. He’d taken that risk because he’d wanted her so badly. Hell, he still wanted Mia more than his next breath. She was the only woman who had ever tempted him to try marriage. And look where it had gotten them both.
Still, it was over and done now. Everybody should be moving the hell on. Sounded great, he thought. But he wasn’t thinking about moving on. He was focused on finding Mia and kissing her senseless. Letting himself feel the burn of her touch and the rushing slide into a heat he’d only found with her. Shaking his head, he let go of those thoughts and looked at his in-laws.
“Look, Henry,” he said, done trying to apologize for doing the right thing. As a husband, he was a failure. Should he have stuck around long enough that Mia was begging him to leave? “I can’t change your opinion of me and frankly, I’m not going to try. I only wanted to give you and your family a heads-up about the possible storm. Now that I have, I’ll leave you to enjoy yourselves.”
It looked as though Henry had more to say, but instead, he smashed his lips together as if locking the words inside. But before he could go, Sam heard Emma speaking.
“You know something Henry,” she said, still watching the water as if she were mesmerized, “if Sam were here, I’d tell him what a disappointment he is to me.”
Sam felt that sting down to his bones. Emma had always been good to him. He’d seen her relationship with her daughters and it had been a revelation to him. He’d never known a real family dynamic and he’d liked it. Enjoyed it. He was accepted as a son—much like Joe and Merry’s husband, Alan. He hadn’t even known how much that had meant to him until it was gone.
Now, Emma wouldn’t look at him.
“Emma—” he started.
“And,” she continued, “I’d tell him if he hurts my baby again, the storm won’t be his only problem.”
There was nothing he could say to turn things around, so Sam just kept quiet.
Emma looked up at Henry and said, “Let’s take a walk, shall we?”
Henry gave him a brief look, then nodded at his wife. “Sure. Let’s go check on the kids in the snow room.”
“That’ll be fun,” Emma said and walked past Sam as if he were a ghost.
And to her, he told himself, that’s exactly what he was. The ghost of a man who’d made promises he didn’t keep.
Sam watched them go, then stabbed one hand through his hair. When his marriage to Mia had ended, so had everything else. He’d tried to be nice to Henry and Emma. They weren’t interested. So why should he keep trying to be Mr. Nice Guy? This was his ship. His world. They were only passing through.
Being here with Mia was a gift from the universe. The fires between them were still burning. He still ached to have her with him and now he had his chance. Once, he’d married her because the desperate need inside him had demanded it—and he’d let her go because she’d needed him to. Now he needed and damned if he’d waste this opportunity. And once this cruise was over, they’d go back to reality and never have to see each other again.
So maybe it was time to rethink that “deal” he’d considered earlier. A nice guy wouldn’t do it. But apparently, that wasn’t who he was.
And that opened up a world of possibilities.
* * *
Mia spent most of the day in the ship’s kitchen. She knew several of the chefs from her time with Sam and it was good to see them all. But she acknowledged, at least to herself, that the real reason she was in the kitchen, was that it was literally the last place on earth she had to worry about running into Sam.
The Buchanan ships were small enough that it wasn’
t easy to hide—it would have been much easier to disappear into a crowd of thousands on the bigger cruise ships.
Chefs were moving about the kitchen as if they were in a well-rehearsed dance. Miles of stainless steel countertops were stacked with dishes being readied for the dining room and a dozen conversations were happening at once.
“This is great, Mia.” Holly Chambers, pastry chef on the Fantasy Nights, was barely five feet tall and wore her black hair cut close to her head. Her blue eyes were always bright and smiling and a pair of gold studs were in her ears. When Mia and Holly had met a year ago, they’d bonded over baking.
The Harper family bakery, Your Daily Bread, specialized in...naturally, bread. But as Mia and her sisters took over more of the bakery, they were growing the menu, too. Now they offered Italian cookies, English scones, cannoli, sticky toffee pudding and a tiramisu that could bring tears of joy to your eyes.
But today, Mia was showing Holly how to make her mother’s amazing rosemary bread. As she kneaded the fragrant dough on the stainless steel counter, Mia said, “This is one of the best sellers at the bakery.”
“I’m loving it already and it hasn’t been baked yet,” Holly said, checking her notes to make sure she’d written the recipe down perfectly.
Mia smiled to herself. This was therapeutic to her. Kneading dough, creating something amazing out of flour and herbs.
“Oh, and it smells like heaven when it’s baking,” Mia said. If there was one thing the Harper kids knew, it was baking. All three of her parents’ daughters had started working at the bakery when they were kids. They’d grown up around the ovens, the proving room where yeast breads rose, and the front of the shop where customers lined up every morning to buy the day’s special.
Mia’s mom’s family was Italian and English, which explained why their dessert menu was so eclectic. The Harper sisters had grown up making those treats and experimenting with new dishes.
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