Unquiet Spirits

  Her slight nod pleased him. He was positive she wasn't in love with Gray Suit and she impressed him as too smart to settle for less. That should not matter to him, but it did. Her candor and her smile were too appealing. If he had any sense he would run to the nearest bar to look for a different kind of candidate to share his 'luxury double bed.' He needed hearty laughs with an uncomplicated woman. He had a hunch that Sara did not fit the bill.

  Sara took a deep breath. She couldn't believe that she was wondering how she could help Mike forget his broken engagement. It was obviously time to return to her cabin.

  The sea had become rougher since they'd moved farther out into the Gulf of Mexico. She adjusted her stance to keep her balance as the warm wind blew in her face and she tasted the salt on her lips. She would blame her strange mood on the rising turbulence of the night. She turned to leave.

  "Good night, Mike," she said.

  "That waiter won't be the only one, you know." His smile looked genuine. "You're too lovely not to be pestered. How would you like a buddy to ride shotgun?"

  She wished she could soothe the pain he was trying to hide but she had to refuse his offer.

  "That's very generous, Mike. But it wouldn't be fair. You need a carefree woman to distract you. I'll be fine. I'm good at deflecting passes. They don't even tempt me."

  This man could tempt her. The thought came from nowhere.

  He just nodded and said, with a grin, "Send up a smoke signal any time you need help. I'd better see you to your cabin. It's getting a little rough."

  As they moved away from the railing, she stumbled slightly. Mike steadied her and laughed at her embarrassed grimace.

  "You won't believe how many years of gymnastic training it took to make me move this gracefully," she quipped.

  He did not remove his hand from her arm.

  "That was the sea reminding us of the small print on our tickets. You may not realize it, but there's a maritime law that states you must kiss a stranger on your first night at sea."

  Before he released her, his smiling mouth brushed her forehead. "There. Now, the pressure's off. I've obeyed the law. It's your turn."

  As he leaned toward her again, she was perfectly aware of how foolhardy it was to slip into playful flirting with this man.

  "I have great respect for the law. So, if I must - " she said, reaching up to place a butterfly kiss on his lips.

  The brief contact startled her. She jerked back. As she met his eyes in confusion, her tongue automatically moved to soothe her tingling lower lip. When Mike's mouth covered hers, her lips parted of their own volition. She tasted the sea salt on his lips and the sweetness of his mouth as his tongue tentatively sought hers. Heat flowed through her veins and a peculiar heaviness formed in her breasts. When his large hands moved slowly down over her back and gathered her close, her body melted against him. This overwhelming flood of sensation was like nothing she had never experienced.

  It was Mike who first pulled away.

  "Sara," he whispered as he cradled her head against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding as fast as her own. "Sara."

  She stepped back from his embrace, her eyes wide, shocked by her response to his kisses. Her response? She was not sure which of them had initiated the second one.

  "I don't even know you," she managed to say.

  Mike appeared to be equally stunned by the unexpected intensity of their kiss.

  "You will though, Sara." He stated it as an undeniable fact.

  It was hard to call up the flippancy that usually protected her. "Not necessarily, stranger. I think we've fulfilled all the requirements of the law." She flashed him a brittle smile. "See you at breakfast," she said as she hurried away towards her cabin.

  It took a long time for the ship to rock Sara to sleep that night. Her thoughts were more turbulent than the ocean. She didn't understand her impetuous behavior. Even the night she had decided that it was time to give up her virginity to her eager college boyfriend, she hadn't been out of control. But, tonight when Mike had kissed her, there had been nothing rational about the sensations that had rocketed through her. She clenched her teeth and groaned with fury at herself. He was a stranger. She did not even know his last name.

  The purpose of this holiday was to give herself time to make a reasoned, mature decision about her future, not to discover at the advanced age of thirty the sexuality that most women come to terms with in their teens.

  How would she be able to face Mike again after her wanton response to his kiss? Even if she avoided him all day, they would be facing each other every evening across the dining room table. It was ironic that she had chosen this cruise because of the number of days at sea on its itinerary. She'd been looking forward to the isolation of those days. Tomorrow, she and Mike would be trapped together on this ship that suddenly seemed very small.

  Stephen. She was supposed to be concentrating on Stephen. He never made her feel she was losing control. The real problem was that he didn't make her feel anything very intensely. Did she really want marriage and a family enough to marry Stephen?

  Her father insisted that Stephen Cafik was the logical choice for her. He probably was. He was charming, good looking, and certainly old enough to know what he wanted out of life. Good point.

  She knew him. They'd met when she was doing the legal work for the purchase of his Rochester plant. He soon became a handy and extremely presentable escort for professional functions and the occasional private party. In return, Stephen had been only too glad to have her introduction to the social and political Rochester establishment. The relationship had been perfect. Too bad it hadn't stayed that way.

  A couple of months ago, Stephen had decided to change the rules. Now he said he loved her and wanted to marry her. Oh, why couldn't it have been his kiss that had showed her what the fuss was all about?

  Growing up, her time and energy had been so taken up with school and training for gymnastic competition that she hadn't really dated until college. She had quickly developed a light touch for moments that threatened to become tender. She hadn't wanted anything more. A couple of experiments with sex had shown her how overrated that activity was.

  The sudden madness that had come over her tonight must be what she'd managed to avoid. That unrestrained wildness must be what Stephen wanted from her. For the first time, she realized that if she accepted his proposal she would be cheating him of something vital to a marriage. She supposed that in the back of her mind she'd known that all along.

  She had to smile when she imagined her father's reaction if she were to tell him that she'd decided not to marry Stephen Cafik because she'd been kissed by a devastating, itinerant construction worker.

  But she hadn't quite decided yet.

  Remembering those moments with Mike on the windswept deck, a warmth stole over her bringing with it the return of those new and disquieting emotions. She tried to force herself to think of Stephen's handsome, intelligent face but it was no use. The face that filled her mind was a rugged one with black, black eyes. And a mouth she really wanted to kiss again.

  * * * * *

  Sara couldn't move. Her limbs were heavy and caught in some kind of silky bonds. On some level, she was aware of lurking dangers in the background, but she knew with certainty that her survival depended on freeing herself from this distressing web.

  An indistinct face with large, fathomless, black eyes hovered over her. Slowly and inexorably, they drew closer. She was being drawn helplessly up into their inky depths.

  Suddenly, sensuous lips were devouring hers. The heat of a kiss seared a path from her mouth to some place deep inside her that had been cold forever and desperately needed warming. She stopped struggling and pulled a hand free to reach up to touch his face and his hair as he drew her eager body into his powerful arms. She could actually hear the pounding of their hearts getting louder and louder.

  The sound slowly separated from the image, as Sara surfaced from the dream. Someone was knocking persiste
ntly on the door of her cabin. She unwound the tangled sheets from her legs and stumbled out of bed, still half-asleep. As she was reaching for the doorknob, she realized that it was the middle of the night.

  She stopped herself and called out, "Who is it?"

  "It's Carlos," an unfamiliar voice answered softly.

  Carlos? She did not know any Carlos.

  "Carlos, your cabin steward," he said, as if that explained his presence at her door at this hour. She vaguely remembered the smiling young Jamaican who had ushered her to her cabin. He had proudly pointed to his name tag which could have read, Carlos. He had left his card on the vanity.

  "In case you need anything, anything at all, Miss," he had told her, with a broad smile, "day or night."

  She flicked on the overhead light and checked the card.

  "Yes, Carlos," she said.

  "You have an important message, Miss Tolberg." There was real urgency in his voice.

  "Just a minute, Carlos. I'll be right there." Sara reached for her robe and pulled it on before opening the door. "Come in."

  He stopped just inside the door. "I'm sorry to disturb you, Miss, but you have a call waiting on the ship's radio. You will have to come up to the radio room to take it."

  "Are you sure it's for me?"

  "Oh, yes." He nodded gravely. "I was told it was your sister calling."

  "My God!" she gasped. "Dad! Wait outside a minute."

  She hurried him out into the hall and almost before the door had closed behind him, she'd pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt and had rammed her feet into a pair of deck shoes.

  As she rushed down the corridor with the steward in the lead, Sara berated herself for being selfish enough to take this vacation. She should never have let her father talk her into it. Although he seemed to have recovered from his heart attack, he had been warned that his heart had been damaged. She should never have left him. Mrs. Webster, his housekeeper, must have called Elsa in New York.

  Carlos knocked at a door that bore a discreet little sign that read simply RADIO. It opened immediately. The white-uniformed, balding radio officer jumped to his feet. He shook her hand then waved her towards one of the two chairs in the room.

  "Do sit down, Miss Tolberg. I'll contact the operator and have you connected in a moment."

  "Did my sister tell you anything when you spoke to her?"

  "I wasn't speaking directly to her but I was told that the caller had an urgent message and needed to speak with you in person. Hold on a minute and I'll get you connected."

  Sara was left with her anxious thoughts while the radio officer went about his business. She blessed the impulse she'd had to send Elsa the ship's itinerary and its radio code in case she had to be reached. After a few minutes, she became aware that the officer was speaking angrily to someone.

  Finally, he turned to her. "I'm dreadfully sorry, but the caller hung up. The number that she gave doesn't answer. What do you want me to do?"

  Her mind whirled. Why would Elsa not hold on long enough to speak to her after calling her at two o'clock in the morning?

  "I can't call my father at this hour," she decided. "I'd better phone my sister back." She rattled off Elsa's New York number. It was not the one the caller had given.

  About half an hour later, she heard Elsa's sleepy voice mumble, "Hello."

  "Elsa, this is Sara."

  "Sara." Elsa sounded groggy and more than half asleep. "Are you all right? Has something happened?"

  "That's what I was going to ask you. I'm fine. I thought that I was returning your call." Sara couldn't keep the impatience out of her voice. "You didn't radio the ship?"

  "This isn't funny, Sara. Do you realize what time it is?"

  There was the rumbling of a sleepy male voice in the background.

  "Sara's all right, Tom." Elsa's husband, at least, was concerned about her. "Yes, she's fine. It's some kind of mix-up. Go back to sleep."

  "Elsa, wake up. Why would I think calling you in the middle of the night was funny? I was rousted out of bed to answer an urgent call from my sister. You can imagine what I thought. You haven't heard from Dad or from Mrs. Webster, have you?"

  "Not a thing." Elsa was suddenly wide awake. "We were home all evening. No one called here. There has to be a mixup on the ship. The message was for someone else.

  "Don't worry. I'll get in touch with them in the morning. I promise I'll let you know if there is anything you should be concerned about."

  After apologizing for upsetting her and disturbing her sleep, Sara hung up. She was angry and more than a little bewildered.

  "You are absolutely sure that the call was for me?"

  The radio officer picked up a small square form from the top of a pile.

  "No question of a mistake," he replied, a bit defensively. "Here you are. Time: 13:45. Incoming call for Sara Tolberg. Cabin number A 9. No print message. Holding for reply." He thrust it at her. "You can keep that copy."

  Sara stared at the sheet of paper. It explained nothing. Only her family and Stephen knew how to reach her. None of them would dream of playing a trick that would worry her like this.

  She thanked the radio officer for his trouble and left his crowded little domain. The sea was still rough and the ship was doing a fair amount of pitching as it ploughed through the heavy swells. The few people that she saw were using the hand rails that lined the hallways and being good humored about the lurching they were doing. One laughing couple stopped to let her pass by them.

  The woman assured her, with a giggle, "Don't feel bad about staggering. The only people who are walking straight tonight are the drunks."

  Sara's mind flashed to those startling moments after she had lost her footing on the observation deck and to the man who had held her. The sudden sexual hunger his kiss had aroused had sent her scurrying away like a frightened mouse. In spite of the threat he presented to her peace of mind, she wished she had his large reassuring presence beside her right now. She was feeling uneasy and very much alone as she headed back to her empty cabin.

  About the Author

  When Dee Lloyd was thirteen years old she told a reporter for the Timmins Daily Press that she wanted to be a writer. The road since has meandered through some fascinating territory, but the writing has been a constant. She's worked in record stores, at cosmetic counters and for a City tax department, but for the past twenty years she has devoted most of her energy to teaching Creative Writing to adults and adolescents.

  Dee is addicted to cruising tropical waters in the winter as often as she can and loves the clear lake waters that surround her island cottage in Central Ontario. She is fascinated by the interactions between men and women of all ages and cultures and by the resilience that people display in the face of devastating troubles.

  After years of reading all kinds of mysteries, Dee gradually found herself choosing stories with a higher romance content. Her own stories moved in the same direction. Recently, she realized that she was a natural to write romantic suspense novels. After all, she met her husband in what could have been the opening scene of a romance novel. Dee was auditioning for the singing lead in a college musical comedy that he had written. Naturally, she got the part...and the man.

  Now that she is focusing her attention on her writing, these days Dee's main distractions are, aside from her husband, her two grown daughters and six grandchildren. Dee has been a member of the Romance Writers of America since 1990, of the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers since attending a great conference there in 1992, and of the Kiss of Death Chapter of RWA since 1998. She has published five books with LTDBooks, including her EPPIE award-winning Ties That Blind, Mine, Change of Plans, Unquiet Spirits and Ghost of a Chance.

  Publisher info:

  Stories that stimulate your laughter, Provoke your tears, Evoke your secret fears,

  Stories that make you think...The stuff that dreams are made of...LTDBooks

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  bsp; Dee Lloyd, Unquiet Spirits