by Janet Dailey
"Be sure that you do," Julia insisted in a matronly tone. "You need to complete your education."
Light brown eyes swung to Selena to regard her with studied intentness. Despite his full brown mustache, Selena decided he wasn't any older than she was, possibly a year or two younger. He was good-looking, and there was something in his expression that said he knew it. His charm was evident in his engaging smile and his slow, drawling way of talking.
"Is this your niece, Miss Julie?" he asked, his gaze remaining fixed on Selena.
"No, Miss Merrick is a friend. This is Greg Simpson, an incorrigible but likable young man," Julia introduced them. "And the only one who uses the diminutive of my name, irrespective of my wishes."
"Miss Julie, you know you like it," he chided teasingly, and Selena guessed he was right, judging by the twinkle in Julia's otherwise sternly composed face.
"If I didn't know how hard you work in this job, I would say you rely too heavily on sweet talking," Julia stated.
The bartender laughed off her words of reproof and smiled at Selena. "How do you do, Miss Merrick. And welcome aboard the Delta Queen."
"Thank you," she nodded.
"The chief purser, Doug Spender, gave orders that your first sherry of the cruise was to be on him, Miss Julie," he announced, swinging his attention back to the older woman. "Would you like it on the outer deck?"
"Please," Julia agreed.
He turned to Selena. "And what would you like to drink, courtesy of the chief purser?"
Hesitating for a fraction of a second, she said, "I'll have the same."
"My name is Greg," he offered in invitation of its use. "We'll be living together aboard this boat for the next ten days, so we might as well start right out with first names."
"Very well, Greg," Selena agreed, her naturally outgoing nature accepting his friendly advance.
"I'm sorry, but I'm afraid I've forgotten your first name," Greg smiled.
"That's because I didn't give it to you," Julia inserted dryly.
Selena supplied it with a laugh, "It's Selena."
"I like it," he winked before moving off toward the bar. "Two sherries coming right up."
"Incorrigible!" Julia clicked reprovingly under her breath, but Selena noticed the indulgent gleam in the older woman's eye.
On the outer deck, the air was humid and still with only an occasional breath of breeze to stir it. Seated in the wrought-iron deck chair, Selena enjoyed the warmth of the late-afternoon sun on her face.
Her back was to the doors of the texas lounge as she faced the Mississippi River. She missed Greg's approach until he was at their table setting their sherry glasses on cocktail napkins.
His gaze touched the fiery crown of Selena's hair, flaming brighter in the sunlight. "If there's anything else, just call me," he said as he withdrew.
More passengers were migrating toward the lounge, some of them spilling onto the deck where Selena and Julia sat. Their happy, laughing voices were in keeping with the bustling activity Selena was witnessing on the river.
A large oil tanker was moving slowly up the river while other ships, freighters mostly, were docked along the wharves. There seemed to be an almost constant stream of towboats pushing barges up or down the river. In the middle of all this activity, the ferryboat to Algiers was darting back and forth across the Mississippi.
Selena was absorbed by the river scene until she heard a sharply indrawn gasp from Julia. She glanced at the older woman curiously and frowned at the dismay in the woman's expression. Her concern was immediate.
"Julia, what's wrong?"
"It's my nephew. He's here." She bit at her lower lip, her gaze focused on an object beyond Selena. "I should have known my brother would send him to try to stop me!"
Selena didn't want to be caught in the middle of a family dispute. "I'll leave so you can speak to him alone." She started to rise, but Julia lifted a hand to stop her.
"Please stay," she requested with a hint of panic in her low voice. "I'm afraid I'll need your moral support."
There didn't seem to be any way to refuse without appearing heartless. After the way Julia had befriended her, Selena knew she couldn't treat the older woman that way. But she promised herself she wouldn't become any further involved as she sat back in her chair, aware of the firm, steady strides approaching the table.
"Hello, Julia." At the sound of the male voice, cold fingers ran down Selena's spine.
It couldn't possibly be the same man who had propositioned her in the hallway of the hotel, her mind cried in disbelief. Her fingers closed around the stem of her sherry glass, shock waves vibrating through her body.
"What a surprise to see you here, Chance." Julia's voice wavered as she greeted the man.
Selena dared an upward glance at the man who had stopped at their table. Her look was returned, coal black eyes hard with recognition, slicing her to the bone before directing their attention to the older woman seated opposite Selena. With an alacrity that surprised her, he assumed an expression of gentleness and patience.
"Is it a surprise, Julia?" There was affection in his mocking tone.
"How did you know where to find me?" the older woman sighed heavily.
Part of Selena wanted to bolt for safety, but she remained rooted to the chair. Staring blindly at her glass, she was uncomfortably aware of the thoughts and opinions that were probably going through the man's mind. She tried to comfort herself with the knowledge that she had been the innocent victim of an unfortunate set of circumstances, but it didn't lessen the disturbance trembling through her.
"I stopped by your apartment," he answered his aunt's question. "The girl at the desk told me you'd left on a trip. After that, it was simple deduction that brought me here."
"I suppose Hamilton sent you," Julia declared with a trace of resentment.
"Yes, he was hoping I would be able to persuade you not to do this," he admitted.
"He should mind his own business." Agitation quivered in Julia's reply, drawing Selena's gaze to the moisture glistening in the liquid-brown eyes.
"Hamilton is your brother. It's natural for him to be concerned about you and what you're doing with your life," was the calmly reasoning response. Selena sensed that he was choosing his words with care, not wanting too much of the family linen to be aired in front of her.
"But it is my life. And I want to do this, it's my right," Julia insisted with a traitorous lack of conviction in the strong words.
"He doesn't want you to be hurt—none of us does. What you're doing is foolish and it's only going to bring unnecessary anguish. Come home with me now, before it goes any further." His tone was cajolingly persuasive. Even Selena could feel its pull. "I—"
"Chance," Julia interrupted to protest, "you know how I feel about Leslie."
"Julia—" Impatience flashed in his voice, making Selena's gaze lift to see the grimness in his features.
"No," Julia stopped the rest of his sentence. "I know what you're going to say. I've heard it all before and it isn't going to change the way I feel. Please, I'm going to do this," she appealed to him to understand. "Don't try to talk me out of it."
Covertly, Selena watched his reaction to the plea. At first there was a stubborn set to the sharply etched line of his jaw, his narrowed black gaze unrelenting.
Then suddenly his eyes smiled. There was no other way to describe the change in his expression. There was no movement of his mouth, nothing except his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"All right, I've tried. My duty to the family is done," he stated. "All that's left is to have a bon-voyage drink with you and the young lady."
There was no smile in his eyes as his gaze swung to Selena. Only a faint challenge glittered through the black shutter he had pulled over them. It was his first formal acknowledgement of her existence and Selena felt trapped. Every nerve end tautened into alertness.
"Where are my manners?" Julia exclaimed in embarrassed agitation, and she hastened to correct her omissio
n of an introduction, one that Selena would rather have avoided. "Selena, this is my nephew, Chance Barkley. Chance, this is a new friend, Selena Merrick."
"How do you do, Mr. Barkley." The words sounded stilted and cold even to her own ears.
"Miss Merrick." He made a mocking half bow to acknowledge her greeting, his gaze hard and glittering as it rested on her upturned face. Drawing an empty chair to the table, he directed his next remark to his aunt. "She must be a very new friend of yours, since I don't recall ever seeing her with you."
There was the faintest emphasis on the last two words, but Selena heard it, as Chance Barkley had guessed she would.
"Oh, yes, as a matter of fact we just met this weekend," Julia admitted.
The upward flick of his dark brow seemed to say, "You, too." Selena felt like squirming in her seat. It didn't help that he was aware of her discomfiture and was enjoying it.
"You must have a facility for making new friends easily." If it was possible for a man's voice to purr like a smug cat, his did.
His double-edged meaning was not lost on her. "I try, Mr. Barkley," she retorted in a voice riddled With fine tension.
"Call me Chance. You see—" again the taunting smile returned to laugh at her predicament "—already I feel as if I've met you before."
Troubled, green-flecked eyes lowered their attention to the quirking line of his mouth, which was subtly drawn, very masculine and provoked the memory of his potent, drugging kisses, Unnerved, Selena curled her fingers around the glass, ordering her hand not to tremble as she lifted it to her lips. A gulp of the amber-brown wine didn't dull her senses, which leaped in alarm.
His glittering regard was distracted by the appearance of the bartender, Greg, at the table. "Would you like something to drink, sir?"
"Scotch. Chivas Regal on the rocks." Chance Barkley leaned back in his chair, relaxed and insolent, but Selena knew it was only a pose. Despite those lazily drooping eyelids, he was just as alert as she was.
"Very good, sir," Greg nodded. "And how about you, Miss Julie? Would you care for another sherry?"
"One is my limit, Greg," she replied in an apparent reminder.
"Yes, ma'am," he smiled and turned to Selena, his light brown eyes flirting with her—a fact Chance Barkley was quick to note, sardonic mockery flicking across his chiseled male features. "And you, Selena?"
She stared at the glass her fingers circled and the sherry that barely covered the bottom. "Nothing, Greg, thanks," she answered stiffly.
When Greg left, Chance said, "I'm curious. How did the two of you meet?"
"Here," Julia answered. At his sharply questioning look, she laughed and explained, "We met on the dock. We'd both come to see the Delta Queen when she docked. We started talking, then one thing led to another, and I invited Selena to church and Sunday dinner."
"To church?"
If he had laughed aloud, his ridiculing amusement couldn't have been more evident as his derisive gaze swung to Selena. Her chin lifted in defensive challenge.
Julia seemed ignorant of the byplay. "Yes, Selena is a minister's daughter."
"Really? I would never have guessed." His voice was bland, but the jeering light in his eyes raked her with contempt. Selena burned slowly in helpless anger, unable to find convincing words to offer in her own defense.
"We had a very enjoyable time together yesterday," Julia went on blithely. "And when I decided I was going to take this trip, I—"
"It was only yesterday that you decided to go on this trip?" Chance questioned sharply, looking at his aunt with thoughtful contemplation.
"I d-did have a few doubts before then," Julia hesitated, glancing anxiously at Selena. "But it was entirely my own decision."
Selena winced inwardly. Julia wasn't a very good liar, even though her statement was half true. Selena knew she had influenced the decision, however inadvertently, and Julia's assertion to the contrary held a false note. Selena saw the slight flaring of his nostrils as Chance Barkley heard it, otherwise he masked his reaction completely.
"In fact," Julia went on, as if to cover her previous words, "once I decided to go, I convinced Selena that she should come, too." At the harmless and completely true statement, Chance Barkley's gaze narrowed into black diamond chips, slicing, over Selena. "You know how I hate to travel alone, Chance." She smiled at Selena. "And Selena is such good company."
"How fortunate that your work permits you to take off at a moment's notice." His smiling comment was double-edged, its sharp side gibing at Selena to remind her of his knowledge of her alleged profession.
"I came here on vacation," she retorted.
"Everyone needs one now and again," Chance stated with an expressive shrug, the hard glint not leaving his eyes, "regardless of his or her line of work."
It was on the tip of Selena's tongue to inform him of her true occupation, but Greg's arrival with Chance's drink checked the words. When he left, Selena decided it would be useless to tell him. Chance Barkley would simply assume that it was a story she had concocted to make herself appear respectable in Julia's eyes, and would make her the recipient of more of his mocking scorn.
"Aren't you concerned that you might find this cruise boring, Selena?" Chance sipped at his drink, making his query with apparent nonchalance.
"I think it will be interesting," Selena countered. "Why should it be boring?"
"Haven't you noticed?" He swirled the ice cubes in his glass, glancing at her over its top and making her aware of his powerfully handsome features. "The majority of your fellow passengers belong to my aunt's generation."
"That won't be a deterrent to my enjoyment of the cruise, Mr. Barkley—"
"Chance," he corrected.
"Chance." Her teeth grated as she uttered his name, pinning a cool smile on her mouth.
There was something coldly calculating in the look he returned that made her want to panic. She sensed a determination in the makeup of his character that could border on ruthlessness if the situation warranted it.
But she couldn't gauge just how vengeful he felt over that incident in his hotel room and the money she hadn't been able to return to him. If only she hadn't been so quick to mail that money to a charity, she could have handed it over to him and vindicated herself to some degree.
The hoarse whistle of the steamboat blew a long and two shorts, hesitated and repeated the sequence. At its cessation a monotone voice issued an announcement over the public-address system.
"All ashore that's going ashore. All aboard that's coming aboard."
"Oh, dear," Julia murmured ruefully. "That means you have to leave, Chance."
"So it does," he agreed with a certain grimness. He downed most of his drink, setting the glass on the table as he pushed himself to his feet. He towered beside Julia's chair. "There isn't anything I can say to persuade you to come home with me?"
"No." She shook her head in negative answer to his half statement, half question. "Don't be angry with me, Chance," she pleaded softly.
A warm and gentle smile softened the hard contours of his face, crinkling his eyes. "I'm not angry, Julia, never with you. You should know that."
"Perhaps," she conceded, with a wealth of affection gleaming in her brown eyes as she gazed up at him. "But it makes me feel better to hear you say it."
Bending down, he kissed her rouged cheek. Selena glimpsed the springing thickness of black hair curling around his white collar. As Chance straightened, his gaze sought Selena. Briefly he inclined his head in her direction and walked away, disappearing into the interior of the texas lounge.
What had it been—a concession? Selena wondered. She was fully aware that she had been spared because she was with Julia. The boat would be leaving in a few minutes or he might have separated her from Julia. And that might have been very humiliating and difficult.
"Chance is almost like a son to me," Julia remarked, pride and sadness mixing in her expression. "He used to call me his 'other mother.' He was always so protective when he was y
oung. He still is, in his own way. It wasn't fair of Hamilton to send Chance to stop me."
"He did seem very fond of you." Selena knew her remark was inadequate, but none other came to mind.
"Yes, he's often said that his mother and I are the only women he needs in his life on a permanent basis." Julia sipped at her sherry, thoughtful and vaguely reminiscent. "Not that he has much time for a private life now that Hamilton has turned everything over to him except the stud farm. And Chance hasn't been content to just manage. He's had to build and expand, take risks and experiment. Never foolishly, you understand."
Selena nodded. She suddenly felt weak and nerveless. She finished the last of her sherry, hoping it would somehow fortify her. It didn't. She hadn't realized how much of a strain she had been under until this minute. It had been like waiting for a bomb to go off and discovering it was a dud. It left her shaky and limp inside.
Assured by the nod that Selena was listening, Julia continued her dissertation. "Chance always holds on with one hand and reaches out to take what he wants with the other. Of course, he's always willing to pay the price. He doesn't expect to get it for free." Selena paled at that—the words were coming too close to her own experience. "I've often wondered if his name had anything to do with the type of man he is. I suppose not, because his grandfather was very much like Chance, too—willing to take risks."
"I hope he's a good loser," Selena commented.
"Oh, he is," Julia insisted. "Before he makes a move, he weighs the odds. No matter how much he loses, Chance doesn't blink an eye because he's already considered that possibility from the first. Unless he's been cheated, then it's an entirely different matter."
And he believed she had cheated him. Her stomach fluttered queasily. A series of wheezing discordant notes sounded from the stern of the riverboat, distracting Julia from her subject.
"Listen! They're going to start the calliope concert. Would you like to walk to the sun deck? There's also a welcome-aboard party in the aft cabin lounge if you'd rather attend it," Julia suggested as if suddenly aware her younger companion might prefer something more in the way of entertainment than listening to an old woman's ramblings.