He shrugged. “I read the ship’s bulletin.”
“You do?”
“Sure. Why not? You mean you don’t?”
“No. I guess I’m more of a digital gal. I’d rather have it in an email or something.”
“Hmm. Not a bad idea, actually.”
“Well, I have been known to have the occasional good idea. Take us for instance.” She waggled her finger between the two of them. “We go to together like, well, coffee and cream.” She took a sip of the aforementioned beverage.
“Like biscuits and gravy.”
“Strawberries and chocolate.”
“Buttermilk and cornbread.”
“What?” She drew back. “Ew. No.”
“Okay, fine. But I happen to like buttermilk and cornbread.”
“I’ll just overlook that little flaw. Anyway, admit it. This fling thing was a brilliant idea on my part.”
“You may have been the one to toss out the idea, but I’d have worked my way around to it eventually.”
She tilted her head. “Really?”
He leaned over, kissed the dimple at the corner of her mouth, tasted the coffee there. “I wanted to do that from the moment you turned around to thank me for prying your heel out of the sidewalk.”
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. And when I saw you sitting at the bar that first night on the ship, I knew I had to find a way to make you mine”—he placed his finger over her mouth before she could remind him of Rule Number Three— “if only for a short time.”
Laura had been to Florence a few times in the past, visited all the must-see sites, but seeing them through Nathan’s eyes was a new experience, and one she wouldn’t soon forget.
He drank it all in. Nothing jaded about his view of life. It was so refreshing.
She felt light. Giddy even. And she didn’t do giddy.
They’d huffed up the four hundred sixty-three steps to the top of Duomo, took in the city’s tiled roof buildings nestled against the Tuscan hills beyond. Strolled the exhibits of the Uffizi, and gazed upon the magnificent works of Titian, Caravaggio, and Michelangelo.
After lunch in a crowded noisy trattoria not far from the Uffizi, they’d backtracked to the Basilica di Santa Croce, where she’d purchased hand stitched crocodile and ostrich key chains from Scuoloa del Cuoio for her co-workers, and a burled calfskin business card case for the Shyster to put his business cards in. For Darcy’s father, a calfskin eyeglass case. Unable to resist, she’d purchased a decadently luxurious butter yellow reversible suede and lambskin trench coat with a python belt for herself.
They’d stumbled upon a shop near the Piazza Santa Croce that carried rare books with a hand-tooled leather-bound volume of Dante’s Inferno—in English, no less—on display in the window that had Millie-the-Braniac’s name all over it. She’d read it no doubt, but this would serve as a collector piece.
That damage done, they turned their steps in the direction of the Ponte Vecchio, where Laura found a beautiful framed cameo pendant perfect for Darcy, and a lovely pair of cameo earrings for Darcy’s mother.
“You’re very generous with your friends.”
Laura shrugged. “Goes back to my appreciation for fine craftsmanship.”
“Uh-huh. Or your appreciation for those close to you.”
Uncomfortable with this observation, she didn’t respond.
“Nothing for your family?” he probed.
“Trust me, they don’t want for anything.” Except warmth. Love. Affection. “What about your sister?”
“Oh, I picked up a little something for her.”
“When did you do that?”
“When you were buying the cameo.”
“Oh.” Laura almost asked to see what he’d purchased, but really, what was the point? She didn’t know his sister, and likely never would. Nevertheless, she was curious what he’d picked out for her.
“What do you say we finish off the day with the pièce de résistance of Florence.”
“That’s French,” Laura pointed out.
“Whatever,” he said, with an eye roll. “You get the point.”
Taking her hand, they crossed the Ponte Vecchio and headed in the direction of the Galleria dell’ Accademia.
As they circled Michelangelo’s seventeen-foot sculpture of David, mouths ajar in awe, their silence spoke volumes. It didn’t matter how many times she beheld the colossal figure, it never ceased to amaze her.
“He’s really something,” Nathan observed.
He barked out a laugh when Laura leaned over and whispered a size comparison between him and the naked statue. “I’ll take that as a compliment.
Exhausted after a jam-packed day in Florence—not to mention the blazing sex he’d just experienced—Nathan rested his chin on Laura’s head, his arms wrapped around her, and listened as her breathing became even with sleep.
He gazed down at her face, soft and relaxed. His hand drifted down her rib cage, splayed across, feeling the deep rise and fall with her breath. All her sharp edges blurred, softened. He enjoyed her like this. But he also enjoyed her sharp edges.
Three more days. That was all he had left with this amazing woman. When he’d boarded the ship, he’d had no expectations for the cruise beyond accomplishing some primary research, seeing some sights, and squeezing in a little rest and relaxation here and there. That he’d see the damsel-in-distress he’d rescued on a Manhattan sidewalk, not so much. That he’d spend seven days with said damsel, even less. But here she was, her leg wrapped around his, her breath soft on his chest.
She intrigued him. And though his relative ignorance of all but her most basic demographics could account for that, it wasn’t the only reason. Fast, as his grandmother would have said, he thought with a satisfied smile, but also generous, kind . . . and vulnerable despite her money and obvious privileged upbringing.
She had some sass in her, but her manners were polished, her public conversations cultured, her knowledge of art and history were all, no doubt, the product of a very expensive private school education.
And yet for all that, he could see uncertainty beneath it all. That feeling of not being quite good enough. As one who experienced that same uncertainty, he could spot it easily in others.
He thought about the earrings he’d purchased for her today when he’d purchased the pair for his sister. Nothing flashy or expensive, just a little memento of him and this trip. Tucked safely away in his stateroom for now, he’d give them to her on their last night on the ship.
He could break Rule Number Three. What the hell? They’d already broken all the other rules. He could ask to see her again in New York, and maybe she’d say no. But, there was also a chance she’d say yes. And he’d never been one to pass up an opportunity.
Laura had suggested that they take another guided tour for the city of Pisa. For one thing, she’d never been, and for another, she needed to experience more guided tours to help with her research. They couldn’t all be as lame as the one in St. Tropez, right?
Watching as the passengers ahead of her boarded the bus for the short trip into Pisa, Laura’s business brain took over. What if you could do interactive guided tours specially designed for the demographic Imperial was targeting?
Her phone buzzed with an incoming text. She took it out, glanced at the screen. Katie. Tapping out a quick reply an idea struck. What if Imperial offered its passengers free apps for the different ports of call? The tours could be categorized by length, interests, and agility levels. Making a note to herself for later, she tucked her phone away. Genius! Biting her lip to hide her smile.
“Good news about the charity gala?” Nathan asked.
“No. Why?”
“You’re smiling.”
“Oh. No.” Damn, he read her too easily. “Just a quick question, and a reminder to myself to handle something when we get back to the ship.”
Taking her hand, he helped her onto the bus—always the gentleman.
They got off the bus
at the first stop on the tour and the most famous site in Pisa, The Leaning Tower.
As they milled around waiting for everyone to climb off the bus, Nathan pulled Laura close and said, “Watch for pickpockets.”
She snorted. “I’m from New York and Georgia Boy here is telling me to watch for pickpockets.”
“Even so. See that young boy over there?” Nathan pointed across the Piazza dei Miracoli.
“The one entertaining that couple?” The little boy performed a little song and dance.
“Yes. He’s the distraction.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s called the Diversion Heist. The little boy distracts the mark while the adult accomplice swoops in and steals the wallets, jewelry, and any other valuables they can get their hands on.”
“We should do something.” She laid a hand on Nathan’s arm.
“No need.” He drew her attention back to the couple, where a roaming police officer shooed the kid away.
“How do you know so much about those schemes?”
“The same schemes are used on unwary people in the U.S.”
“Again, how do you know?”
“I didn’t grow up in the best environment.”
The tour guide called for everyone’s attention, effectively ending their conversation.
She and Nathan boarded the ship, planning to part ways until dinner. She had a few emails that needed her attention, but she told Nathan they involved the Silver Linings Gala. Not a total lie—one of them did. This was her second year serving as the chair of the marketing committee for the Silver Linings Gala, which raised money for the Women’s Legal Fund of Harlem, and she loved the work. The fact that it was Josh’s chosen charity had nothing to do with it.
“Let’s do something casual tonight,” Laura said as she took her stateroom key from her pocket.
“I could go for a juicy burger myself.”
“Sounds per—”
Her words were cut off when one of the passengers, a man in his seventies, missed the bottom step and fell, his head narrowly missing the stairs.
“Oh!” she cried out.
Nathan bolted forward, knelt beside the man. “Sir, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” He struggled to sit up.
“Easy. Give yourself a minute.”
Laura squatted next to Nathan. “Should I call for help?” She took the man’s hand.
“No,” the gentleman said. “I’ll be fine. Damn Parkinson’s,” he muttered.
“Parkinson’s?” Nathan asked.
“Makes me a little unsteady on my feet sometimes.”
“Yes.” Nathan helped the man sit up. “My grandmother had Parkinson’s.”
Something in his tone of voice drew her attention back to Nathan. He wore a look of sadness.
“I’m Nathan. And this is Laura.”
“Laura, Nathan, I’m Henry, Henry Riggers.”
“Are you sure you don’t need medical attention? I could take you to the ship’s infirmary.”
“No, son. The only thing wounded is my pride.” He gave a wan smile.
When the man started to rise, Nathan took his arm. “Here, let me help you back to your stateroom.” He turned to Laura. “I’ll meet you at seven?”
“Sure.”
As she watched Nathan help Mr. Riggers to the elevator, her heart gave a little squeeze. His grandmother would have been proud.
Nathan’s comment came back to her. I didn’t grow up in the best environment. What had he meant by that? He behaved like a gentleman, but knew about pickpocket schemes. He talked about his grandmother with the utmost respect. He clearly cared for his sister and “the farm.” And yet that comment called to mind a hoodlum or gang member. And just now, the kindness and respect he showed Mr. Riggers. She shook her head. There was that perplexing mix of disparate qualities again.
As much as she hated to admit it, she’d like to break Rule Number Three and get to the bottom of Nathan Maxwell.
The next day, wrapped in a luxurious terry cloth robe, Laura stretched out on a chaise lounge in the spa’s relaxation room to wait for her pedicure. She’d just been massaged, scrubbed, and buffed into a boneless blob of bliss. The perfect way to spend the day at sea. She sighed in anticipation of Nathan’s mouth and hands on her spa-fresh silky-smooth skin.
It wasn’t entirely for her pleasure. Of course not. It was work, and hard work at that. After all, she had to know what the spa offered. See if it met the expectations of her demographic. And, she was pleased to report that it did. Damn, her job was tough. She really should look for something less stressful.
And—bonus—she’d spoken with Veronica the Vampire, and Natalia Brusca, who’d both been in the spa earlier, about their experience on the cruise.
Picking up an American tattle rag from the side table, Laura flipped through the pages of stories about not-so-secret affairs, star-studded weddings, and baby bumps. Keeping a finger on the pop culture pulse was as important to an ad agency executive as intelligence briefs were to a world leader. You never knew when a tidbit might come in handy in a pitch.
Laura glanced up as Mrs. Cybex entered the room, belting her robe around her considerable frame. Stopping by the refreshment station, she plucked a couple of biscotti out of the basket and settled back with a cup of tea.
She and her husband had introduced themselves earlier in the week as Robert and Lillian Shelton, but Nathan’s nickname for him stuck. And had extended to his wife.
Glancing at the magazine cover, Mrs. Cybex said, “What a shame about Gwyneth and Chris. They made such a nice couple. Speaking of nice couples, you and that handsome young man have another date tonight?”
Another? What? Was Mrs. Cybex keeping tabs on her?
“I couldn’t help but notice the way you two interact. You make a very attractive couple you know. I’m not the only one who’s noticed. The whole ship is talking about it. He only has eyes for you. And you, well, it’s clear to anyone with eyes that you’re into him. In fact, there’s a pool over whether you’ll leave the ship engaged.”
Engaged! As if. Maybe Mrs. Cybex had been sniffing too much hair dye.
Without waiting for a response from Laura, she continued. “My husband told me when he saw you and the young man in the fitness center that first morning that the chemistry between you two was off the charts. And, honey, it was rolling off you in waves that night in the elevator. Let me tell you, I needed a cold shower after that encounter.”
She chuckled at Laura’s horrified expression. “What? You think I wasn’t young once? I remember the feel of those hormones coursing through me. Remember what it was like to be in lust and in love.”
Love? Yep. She’d definitely been sniffing the hair dye. Should she set the woman straight—not that it was any of her business. “It’s just a fling.” She waved her hand dismissing the notion of anything more.
“Honey, that’s what I said about my husband—before he was my husband, of course.” She dunked her biscotti in her tea before taking a bite. “Let me tell you,” she continued around a mouthful of cookie, “we were smokin’ hot in the sack.”
Laura winced at that visual. Can you say TMI?
Mrs. Cybex’s face had gone all dreamy. “We couldn’t get enough of one another. I thought it would just flame out, you know, like paper tossed into a furnace. But the next thing we knew, we’d fallen for each other. Hard.” She shook her head. “That was over fifty years ago. And we’re still going strong.” She winked at Laura as she took a sip of tea.
Laura glanced over at the door. Never a good nail tech around when you needed her.
Mrs. Cybex reached over and patted Laura’s knee. “Just roll with it, honey. Have fun. But don’t be surprised if the connection you have in bed spills over to your heart.”
“Ms. Danforth.” The nail tech stood in the doorway.
Laura jumped up from the chaise as if it had bit her.
“See you two at dinner,” Mrs. Cybex chimed.
Chapter 12
With so much to do and see in Rome, and only one day to do and see it, Nathan and Laura got an early start, much to Laura’s dismay. Clearly, someone was not a morning person, because when Nathan yanked the covers off of her gorgeous naked body at six-thirty a.m., Laura made several threats to his manhood, cursed his offspring, and otherwise set his ears ablaze with her potty mouth.
A peace offering of sweet, hot coffee had done the trick and put him back in her good graces.
Then, she’d pissed him off when she surprised him by hiring a private car and driver for the day. They’d agreed to pay their own way, but she refused to allow him to pay his half of this extravagance.
But one look at the traffic, and the drivers, in Rome changed his mind.
First stop, the Sistine Chapel, where he and Laura craned their necks to gaze upon Michelangelo’s awe-inspiring ceiling, and equally impressive Last Judgment altar fresco.
“That someone who was such a brilliant sculptor,” Nathan said, thinking of David, “could also paint such beautiful frescoes is extraordinary.”
After a whirlwind tour of Vatican City, they’d headed for the Colosseum.
Standing on the viewing platform looking out at the ruins, Nathan said, “The world’s first sports arena.”
“Yeah,” Laura snorted. “If you like watching battles to the death.”
“What? You have something against two guys beating the living shit out of each other?”
“Yeah, I’m funny that way.”
Nathan snorted, then without a segue said, “I’m starved. All this sightseeing makes a man hungry. Let’s ask Franco what he recommends for lunch.” Franco, their private driver, had turned out to be so much more than just a driver. He was a wealth of information, not only on the history and architecture of Rome, but also on the local culture.
Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) Page 11