Never Too Late

by Patricia Watters

  ***

  It had never occurred to Andrea that she and Jerry would be stuck together at the same table for all their meals, so when the first sitting for dinner was announced, their assigned sitting, she made a point of taking a seat across the table from Jerry, which precluded conversation. But since it was a table for six, four more people would be joining them. Alessandro sat two tables away, which also placed him two tables beyond Jerry's left shoulder. Looking at one man meant seeing the other. It could not be avoided. But she could ignore Jerry by contemplating her upcoming evening with Alessandro. He'd invited her for an after-dinner drink, and promised her an unobstructed view of sunset from the large viewing window in his first-class stateroom. But when she agreed to spend the evening with him, she made it clear that hopping into bed was not an option. But looking at his incredibly handsome face and strangely inviting lips, she might allow a goodnight kiss. And who knows where that would lead before the cruise was over...

  A group of people that appeared to be a mother, a father, a son about fourteen, and a grandfather, approached the table. They stood for a moment contemplating the seating arrangement, then the woman leaned over Jerry, and said, "I notice that you haven't ordered yet. Would you mind moving around the table so my family could sit together? My father-in-law is hard of hearing, and it would make things easier for him."

  Jerry looked across the table at Andrea, clenched his jaws momentarily, then replied, while standing, "No problem." After he'd seated himself beside Andrea, he looked in the distance, and Andrea knew he'd spotted Alessandro. She also knew Jerry had seen them together earlier, which she found absurdly satisfying. Jerry had been so sure she couldn't turn a man's head, and she'd managed to snag the handsomest, most eligible bachelor aboard.

  Leaning toward Jerry, she said, in a hushed voice, "Are you enjoying the cruise?"

  "It's great," Jerry replied in a low, quiet tone. "Couldn't be better."

  "Do you have plans after dinner?" Damn! She hadn't expected to ask that. It just slipped out.

  "Possibly," Jerry replied. "And you?"

  She looked at Alessandro, who tipped his wine glass toward her and smiled. She smiled back. "As a matter of fact, yes." She draped her napkin across her lap and tried not to stare at Alessandro, but her gaze kept shifting that way.

  "He's a gigolo," Jerry said.

  "Ha! You wish," Andrea replied in a hushed voice. "It happens that Alessandro owns a villa in Majorca and a sixty-four-foot yacht for cruising the Mediterranean."

  "And you believe him?"

  "I have no reason not to," Andrea said, keeping her voice low so the others wouldn't hear. "He showed me pictures of his yacht and his family. He has two sisters, one of whom is married to a count. And his parents are currently cruising the Mediterranean on their own private yacht. He even invited me to spend some time at his villa in the very near future."

  Jerry stabbed an artichoke heart from the salad that had just been placed in front of him, and said, in a muted voice, "I can't believe a woman with three grown daughters can be that naïve."

  "That's not quite right," Andrea said. "The truth is, you can't believe that a woman with three grown daughters is capable of catching the eye of a handsome hunk like Alessandro Cavallaro."

  "Handsome hunk?" Jerry gave a cynical laugh. "Single's lingo doesn't suit you, sweetheart, comes across exactly as what it is. A middle-aged woman trying her damndest to sound trendy."

  "Well if that isn't the pot calling the kettle black!" Andrea snapped. "You had your chest waxed!" She looked across the table and saw the couple staring at them.

  "I'm surprised you noticed," Jerry said, his voice low once again.

  "How could I not," Andrea hissed. "You were standing with your shirt unbuttoned, sandwiched between two women the age of our daughters, while slavering and drooling like a St. Bernard. I'm surprised you didn't trip over your big fat slobbery tongue."

  Jerry threw his head back and laughed. "You're jealous!"

  Andrea looked at him, aghast. "Are you serious? What on earth is there for me to be jealous of when there's a man aboard with a villa in Majorca, the body of a Greek god, and the charm of Cary Grant, who's interested in me?"

  "Wake up, Andrea. The man's a gigolo," Jerry said. "All he's interested in is your money."

  Andrea started to tell Jerry that Val pegged him as her next sugar daddy then decided to let things ride. After he'd made a complete fool out of himself, believing Val was after him for his engaging personality, and somewhat good looks, and reasonably fit body, for a man his age—actually somewhat above average—she'd hit him over the head with the truth. Still, the thought of him in bed with Val was strangely disturbing. But after twenty-five years of having him all to herself that was to be expected. But, Alessandro would take her mind off it...

  "We're the Danforths," the woman across the table said. "I'm Lillian, and this is my husband Charlie, our son Ned, and my father-in-law, Edward. We're from Charleston."

  Andrea realized she and Jerry had been so caught up in throwing verbal darts at each other they'd completely ignored a family that would be joining them for all their meals, for the rest of the cruise. "I'm Andrea," she said, omitting her last name. If she and Jerry were both Porters, it would require an explanation that she wasn't prepared to give.

  "Jerry Porter," Jerry offered. Standing, he stretched across the table to offer his hand. Charlie stood and gave Jerry a solid handshake.

  "Then you two are traveling alone?" Lillian asked, eyes shifting between them.

  For a few moments neither spoke, but when the silence became awkward, Jerry said, "We were acquaintances before the cruise, and we have some mutual... friends."

  Three daughters to be exact... Andrea almost announced.

  Lillian Danforth gave them a puzzled look, which was to be expected, considering that she and Jerry had been sitting across the table from each other like strangers, when the people arrived, and within five minutes got into an argument about Jerry's waxed chest.

  "Well there's not a better place to get to know each other than on a cruise, I've heard," Lillian said. "You two will have ten days, and approximately thirty meals, to get acquainted. Who knows what might develop?"

  Andrea glanced at Alessandro, who was looking steadily at her, and said, "Yes, who knows? I'm looking forward to it."

  "I'll just bet you are," Jerry mumbled under his breath.

  Andrea ignored him, concentrating on what lay ahead after diner. Perhaps she and Alessandro would follow their after-dinner drink with a stroll around deck, and when they came to the stern of the ship, Alessandro would take her by the shoulders and kiss her on the forehead, then turn her around so she was resting against his back, and wrap his arms around her so they could watch the phosphorescent glow from the wake of the ship as it moved through the water. Her heart gave a little patter of anticipation.

  A smile tugged at her lips. Little could she have dreamed, the week before, that she might be spending her twenty-fifth wedding anniversary with a tall, sophisticated, incredibly handsome, Italian with bedroom eyes. And who knows what next year might bring? Possibly a first wedding anniversary in a villa in Majorca, or on a luxury yacht cruising the Mediterranean... or beyond?

  Oddly, that thought made her just a tiny bit sad.

  ***

  Andrea looked across the small, linen-covered table at Alessandro, who stared steadily back at her. Thirty minutes before, room service rolled in the table bearing an assortment of elegant pastries. It bothered her that Alessandro's shirt was unbuttoned to mid chest, and that his eyes kept drifting to her breasts while he talked. And earlier, there was no mistaking the fact that when he'd come around behind her while she was enjoying the view beyond the window in his stateroom, and curved his arms around her waist, that his hands had moved upward to places that had never been touched by any man but Jerry. She'd turned out of his arms then, and took her place at the table. Now, as he stared at her, she was beginning to wonder if Jerry was righ
t...

  "You're a very beautiful woman," Alessandro said, in his smooth Italian accent. "I'm entranced by you. By your beautiful smile and your quick wit. I believe you are attracted to me as well."

  "Well yes," Andrea admitted. "But I'm sure you're used to women being attracted to you."

  Alessandro let out a soft laugh. "Maybe at times, but I'm not used to a woman of your charm being so." Again, his eyes roamed to her breasts.

  Feeling suddenly anxious about being alone with the man, Andrea set her napkin aside and said, "This has been a lovely evening, Alessandro, but I'm tired and I need to go." She stood abruptly and started for the door.

  Alessandro was up from the table in an instant and positioned himself between her and her exit. Taking her by the shoulders he kissed the side of her neck, but when he made his way down, Andrea pushed away from him, and said, "I didn't come for this."

  Alessandro released her shoulders. "Sorry, I did not mean to rush you," he said. "We have ten days to get to know each other. You're a desirable woman. Beautiful, charming… But it's what's here—" he placed his hand over his heart "—that attracts me to you as a women." He made no attempt to reach for her.

  Andrea still felt a little uncertain, but she was relieved Alessandro had backed off. But she'd had enough for one night. She still wasn't used to the feel of another man's hands on her, or his lips on places that had been Jerry's alone. But all she needed was a period of adjustment. "Thank you for the pastries," she said, starting for the door.

  He took her by the arm and turned her around. "You are welcome, cara mia, and I hope this will give you something to remember me by until tomorrow." He placed his hands on her shoulders and kissed her on the forehead, a short, sweet kiss that made her heart flutter. He dropped his hands, and she quickly stepped out of this stateroom and made her way back to her quarters. But as she passed the honeymoon suite, the sound of a woman's voice caught her up short. She listened for a moment and was certain she heard Val. Angling her ear to the door, the words became distinct...

  "It's a win-win arrangement for both, sugar pie," she heard Val saying. "As your sugar baby, I'll keep that male apparatus of yours in good working order and you can come to me any time day or night, and we'll talk business, or we'll talk about this..." her voice trailed off, and Andrea thought she heard Jerry grunt, though it could have been the ship.

  "Sugar pie?" Val said. "Don't go getting soft on me now. Don't I please you? Take a look at me, honey bun. Don't these please you?" Val let out a long moan, and Andrea could imagine her running her hands over her ample bosom for Jerry's perusal...

  The sound of voices coming from the end of the passageway made Andrea jump with a start. Glancing back, she saw a couple turn the corner and start toward her. She quickly moved away from the door and continued down the passageway to her stateroom. The room was just as it had been when she left for dinner, so she knew Val had gone directly to Jerry's stateroom about the same time she'd gone to Alessandro's. But she refused to dwell on what was happening behind the closed door to the honeymoon suite.

  But tomorrow, she just might take Alessandro as her lover. She had a fairly good idea how to treat one now. But before then, she'd go to the ship's novelty shop and buy the pair of bikini briefs she'd seen earlier. It had been all she could do to keep from bursting out laughing at the image of an octopus with tentacles stretched across the front pouch. When she saw the briefs, she'd visualized Jerry prancing around the room with an octopus clinging to his male part. But she'd be buying the briefs to give to Alessandro at some point, she reminded herself, though she couldn't bring that image to mind. The sight of Jerry strutting his stuff kept pushing the image of Alessandro aside. Then maybe she'd simply buy the briefs and put them away for another time, another man. She sighed. Taking a lover was becoming increasingly more complicated.

  CHAPTER 3

  Two-hundred-and-three, two-hundred-and-four, two-hundred-and-five...

  Hands clasped behind his head, Jerry increased the pace of his sit-ups. He'd go to four hundred if that's what it took to keep his mind off Andrea. Damn her. And damn his cock for going all soft on him when Val was primed to give it her all. But when Val stripped off her clothes and stood in front of him, and he saw her flat flawless belly, and silicone implanted breasts, all he could think of was Andrea and the tiny stretch marks on her belly, each one representing the culmination of their love—a son, who had been a challenge, and three beautiful daughters who'd brought him more joy than he could express. And when he looked at Val's implanted breasts, what he saw was Andrea with Megan at her breast, not a breast filled with silicone, but one filled with milk for their first child. Megan. Tiny and newborn, and the most beautiful and miraculous little thing he'd ever seen....

  By then he was soft and had no desire to touch Val, much less complete the job she'd started. All he'd wanted was to send her on her way, which he had. But he'd have to come to terms with things. The marriage was over, they'd be signing divorce papers in the near future, and somehow he'd have to start functioning as a man again or he'd wither and die...

  Two-hundred-and-fourteen, two-hundred-and-fifteen, two-hundred-and-sixteen...

  The sound of Andrea's voice broke his concentration. He stopped in a sitting position with his hands clasped behind his head and saw her climbing onto a state-of-the-arts exercycle while talking to the fitness instructor, who was explaining how to use the thing.

  Andrea was wearing a pair of tight white stretch shorts and a snug white tank top that clung from dampness to her breasts, so she'd undoubtedly been jogging on deck. A terrycloth headband held her hair off her face, which was flushed and damp. In fact, her whole body glistened beneath the florescent lights of the gym. And for the first time since hell-and-gone, he was getting hard just looking at her...

  Two-hundred-and-seventeen, two-hundred-and-eighteen...

  Andrea let out a giggle. Which caught Jerry's attention again. He glanced over to see the fitness instructor—a well-muscled guy in spandex shorts and a tank top—with his hand on Andrea's knee, pressing down to make her foot push against the foot pads on the machine. She giggled again and said it tickled. The man moved his hand and patted her thigh while looking at her with a meet-me-later-baby expression on his face...

  Two-hundred-and... Two-hundred-and... Jerry paused. Two-hundred-what? Hell, he'd lost count. Glancing over, and noting that the fitness jock had left to hit on another woman, Jerry dragged himself up to stand, reached for a towel, and walked over to where Andrea sat pumping the foot pads while staring at the digital dials on the machine. Rasping the towel over his chest, which was beginning to itch with the new growth of hair, he said to her, "Since when have you been interested in fitness?"

  Andrea pushed harder against the foot pads, quickening her pace on the machine as she replied, "Since I decided I don't want to get old and flabby."

  Jerry watched the muscles in her thighs flexing as she pumped, thighs still smooth and firm he noted, even at her age. He had an irrational urge to climb behind her on the machine, slip his arms around her and plant his palms between those smooth firm thighs. From there he'd explore her crotch and see if he could distract her like he used to. It never took much back then. He'd glide a hand up her thigh, do a little teasing, cover her mouth with his, and that's all it took. She'd be his for as long as he wanted to get it on with her, which never had a cut-off time. Not with Andrea. She was as eager as he. The splashing and horsing around in the Jacuzzi afterwards more often than not got things going again...

  "Thinking about your sugar baby?" Andrea asked, pausing mid-push to stare at his crotch. She ran the tip of her tongue around her parted lips...

  And the reaction intensified. "It happens when I'm working out," Jerry snapped.

  "Yeah, right." Andrea wiped her face with the hand towel draped over her shoulder, tucked it down the front of her tank top to mop her breasts, tossed it over the handlebars of the machine, and started pumping the foot pads again. "Val said she had a kn
ack for getting the soft ones back into action again," she said in labored breaths as she pumped.

  "What in hell are you talking about?"

  "Your flag. It's up," she said, without slowing. "Val apparently worked her magic on you last night. You look like you're ready for action again." She gave a wry laugh. "Don't worry sugar pie. I wasn't peeking in the window. But I couldn't help hearing moans of ecstasy coming from your stateroom when I passed on my way back from having an after-dinner drink with Alessandro in his stateroom."

  Jerry glared at Andrea as she sat pumping the foot pads, sweat sliding down her temples and glistening on her chest, causing her damp tank top to cling to her breasts. Her lips were parted, her tongue appearing often to swipe along them, reminding him of those times when she was eager and ready for him...

  Hell. He ought to grab her arm and yank her off the machine and throw her on the floor and show her what a real man could do. And for the first time in months, he felt like a real man. And Andrea hadn't done a damn thing to make him hard except pump a machine to get in shape for an Italian sugar pup who'd screw her, feather his Majorca nest with her half of the divorce settlement and drop her flat. "Shit!" He hissed. Turning abruptly, he headed for the bench press.

  ***

  Andrea took her place at the dining table beside Jerry. The Danforths had not yet arrived for lunch, so she'd be forced to endure Jerry's presence alone for a few minutes. But it was even more awkward now. The session in the fitness center earlier that day had troubled her in a way she hadn't expected. Her legs held up miraculously well as she'd pumped the foot pads on the exercycle, all the while she'd been trying not to notice Jerry's bare, muscular chest. He was in better shape than when they first married. Barely into his twenties then, he hadn't yet filled out to the man-in-his-prime specimen he was now. But it came to her, as he stood watching her, that at forty-eight, Jerry had a body like a man in his thirties. It had been years since she'd noticed. Why a latent desire for him had to come during a workout while he stood watching, pistol cocked and ready for his sugar baby, had been totally humiliating.