Four Nights at Sea Page 2

  “Kind of.” Charlie reached for the electronic cigarette and took a long drag. “I’ll admit that what you’re saying is mostly on target. However, there’s never been a doubt in your ability to make it as a writer. Your parents supported your career goals—maybe not financially so much, because they couldn’t, but they always cheered you on. Paul hired you because he knew you were a capable writer. He had proof from your school days.” She puffed on the pink stick and chased the vanilla-scented vapor with a waving hand.

  “You’re a great writer,” Kathryn insisted.

  “Thank you,” Charlie said, folding her hands between her knees. “I like to believe that, but my family doesn’t. According to them, the only reason for me to attend Columbia Journalism School was to find the right husband, which I recklessly overlooked during my undergraduate education. They think I was there for my M.R.S. degree.”

  “You are so much more than pretty wifey material,” Kathryn said, her pitch a bit higher than typical. “You’re such a talented writer, not to mention someone that I would always want at my side. Dependable, smart, hardworking, stable—”

  “It doesn’t matter.” Where her family was concerned, her main objective had been to find the proper husband to grow her inheritance. Her shoulders dropped in defeat, but her determination rose in opposition.

  “Okay. Let’s talk about how this week will make a difference.” Kathryn covered Charlie’s hand and squeezed in support. “I’m here for you. Let’s brainstorm the best avenues to prove that you’re more than a pretty face.”

  Relief and gratitude flooded Charlie. She was so lucky to have a friend who believed in her. “I’m going back to the basics. Starting with the five W’s every investigative reporter asks: Who, what, when, where, why . . . I’m going forward with my intentions from the moment I embark. I’m going to interview all of my fellow passengers that are willing to share.”

  “Don’t forget the how,” Kathryn added, folding her feet under her bum. “I got it. Let’s come up with all your key questions over a bottle of wine. That way, you’re guaranteed not to miss anything you could use.”

  “Can’t,” Charlie said, checking the time on her phone. “I need to get to the Port Authority. My bus leaves in a little over an hour.”

  “Bus?” Kat shrieked. “Are you out of your mind? That’s going to take forever.”

  “Twenty-six hours, to be exact. The same amount of time you’ll have on the ground in Paris.” Charlie winked and stood. She carried the dinner containers to the kitchen and set them on the counter. “If I take a flight, I’ll arrive totally wrecked and the first two days of the cruise will be ruined. The load of meds I’d need to get my butt on a plane would take a huge toll on my body. I’ll bus it.”

  Shaking her head, Kat gazed at the floor. “You’re going to regret getting stuck—wait!” She looked up, excitement playing in her eyes.

  Charlie looked at her friend, wondering what exactly the massive brainstorm was. “You know I’m on a tight schedule, right?”

  “I got it,” Kat said, holding an index finger in the air. “I have twenty-six hours in Paris. You have twenty-six hours on the bus. So you need twenty-six interview questions for the cruisers.” She clasped her hands together and rolled her shoulders. “Trust me. It’s our lucky number. Twenty-six! Everything twenty-six.”

  “Okay. If you insist.” Charlie stretched up and wrapped her arms around Kat’s shoulders. “I really have to go. I’ll work on the questions while someone else drives. You never know who may be on that bus.”

  “You never know,” Kat agreed.

  Chapter Two

  Almost thirty hours later, Charlie stripped off her clothes and cocooned herself in the soft organic sheets for a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. Just before arriving in Miami, she’d made use of the travel app she referred to for research and had come across a great last-minute deal on South Beach. The hotel proved perfect. Oceanfront and balcony. Plush, king-size bed. Decadent and sweet.

  She knew of the 1 Hotels in New York, liked the environmentally friendly basis they were run on, and she was more than happy she’d decided to dust off her credit card and take a bit of time for herself before boarding the ship for work. Folding her hands beneath her pillow, she shut her eyes and thought of a late breakfast at Tom Colicchio’s place.

  Colicchio, her celebrity crush, was her absolute favorite Top Chef judge. Truth was, she’d been salivating over his meals for years. Maybe she wouldn’t be eating his delicious short ribs for breakfast, but she’d definitely find something to enjoy.

  Hugging a pillow to her chest, she let out a contented sigh and settled into the darkness. The next thing she knew, someone was knocking on the door, and bright sunshine snuck between a crack in the curtains.

  “Room service,” a slightly accented female voice announced.

  She threw off the covers and reached for her bathrobe. “One second,” she cried, fitting the slipper socks the hotel provided on her feet. She’d ordered coffee for nine o’clock, just in case she’d slept past her typical seven o’clock wakeup time. She had slept in. Life was so good.

  “Good morning,” Charlie said, opening the door and stepping back.

  “Good morning, Miss Stanton.” A smiling woman stepped into the room and motioned toward the glass doors. “Would you like to take your coffee on the balcony?”

  Morning coffee? Overlooking the ocean? A tropical breeze in her hair? Charlie’s heart did a happy dance. “Yes. Thank you.”

  The attendant nodded and placed the tray down on a low table to pull back the curtains and open the doors. “It’s a little chilly for a Miami morning, so you may want to stay bundled up in that robe or bring a sweater out here. I think it’s in the low seventies at the moment.”

  Charlie considered the twenty-something degrees she’d left behind and laughed at the thought of seventies being chilly. “I will gladly suffer for such a beautiful view.”

  The other woman joined her in a quick laugh and arranged the coffee on the table for her. “Can I do anything else for you before I go, Miss Stanton? Perhaps request a full breakfast to be brought up?”

  “No. I’m good. Thank you,” Charlie said, reaching for her wallet to tip the woman. “I’m planning on breakfast at Beachcraft.”

  “Excellent idea. My sister is in the kitchen this morning. If you like huevos rancheros, I strongly suggest them. Gabriella is a real artist when it comes to frying eggs.” The woman chuckled and pointed to her chest. “Tell the server to request them the way Mariellena eats them. Fried real soft so that all the goodness oozes and mixes just right with the other stuff.”

  “Wow. I’m suddenly starved,” Charlie said, her mouth watering in anticipation. “I’ll definitely ask for that.”

  “And sit outside on the patio area if it’s available,” Mariellena added. “The weather will warm up soon, and it’ll be real pretty out there.”

  “I’m sure,” Charlie said, walking the woman to the door. “FYI, this weather is a heat wave compared to what is happening in New York.”

  Smiling as she locked the door, Charlie turned and headed for the balcony to enjoy her morning coffee. She was on a second cup when her phone chimed an incoming call and had her racing inside to retrieve it off the nightstand.

  Checking the caller ID, she quickly pressed the green answer icon. “It’s so gorgeous here. I’m in South Beach. Surf, sand, and sun. Gorgeous, I say. Gorgeous!”

  “Good-morning to you, too,” Kathryn replied. “I was calling to confirm you’ve arrived in Miami and your bones are defrosting. But I guess I don’t need to worry.”

  “Nope. No worries. I’m at 1Hotel on South Beach,” Charlie said. “But the bus ride sucked. It was long and boring. Really, really boring.”

  “So no hottie on the bus?”

  “Not one. The seat next to me was empty all the way down. It gave me time to work on questions and do some research on the cruise.” Charlie stepped out onto the balcony and gazed out at the blue water
, scraping her teeth over her lip. She wondered how her friend would feel that she’d hastily made a reservation on a sailing that was not simply a singles cruise, but was a Lovers Sail Singles & Kink Cruise. Kink being the part of the marketing she’d missed.

  “So you’re all set?” Kathryn asked.

  “Yup. I’m grabbing a late breakfast at the hotel restaurant,” she said, keeping the conversation safe.

  Considering her sexual experience and non-adventures, she decided to omit the kink part of the sailing’s description. She didn’t bother to mention that not everyone was single either. Some were cruising for sex and kink, not romance.

  Even though Charlie had been married, Kathryn knew the extent of her sex life. Really restricted. Really vanilla. Missionary on a schedule. She’d freak on her behalf and insist she not board the ship. Charlie focused on the good stuff. Focused on where she was. Focused on the byline.

  “Hotel restaurant? Break out of the predictable and safe rut. Go somewhere special,” Kat said.

  “I am,” Charlie said, twirling her hair and puffing on her vanilla-flavored Vapestick. The kink part of the cruise was a definite break from the predictable. She didn’t share that info, though. “It’s Chef Colicchio’s. I’m so psyched to try it.”

  “Then why are you still talking to me? Get going, girl.”

  * * *

  Smiling and slathered in exquisite-smelling lotion, she dressed in proper cruise attire. She was a professional, would present herself as a professional, and use all the information she could gather for professional advancement.

  Choosing to check out early so she could beat the lines on the ship, she left her suitcase with the bellhop and then strode through the lobby toward the restaurant, marveling at the nature inspired décor. She was looking up when she slammed—full-bodied—into a firm and warm obstacle. A strong arm wrapped around her back and a large hand settled on the curve of her hip.

  “Steady there.”

  The deep masculine voice swathed her senses and stole her balance, causing her to sway and grasp at his shirt to remain upright. Milk chocolate–colored eyes looked down at her, heating her skin and sparking a sudden desire that flamed deep in her core.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. Are you okay?”

  Was she really supposed to give him an honest answer? Or was she supposed to thank him for the way the contact made her body hum? Damn Paul for planting that thought in her mind.

  She pasted a prim and proper smile on her lips, but didn’t prevent her gaze from roaming down his muscled chest to the silver belt buckle above his nicely filled out black slacks. He had almost a foot on her in height, broad, strong-looking shoulders, and the chiseled features of a Ralph Lauren model. She couldn’t see past him or over his shoulder, but neither did she mind the view she had.

  “I’m fine,” she finally managed. “My fault. I was distracted by the décor.”

  * * *

  Ford didn’t miss the flush crawling up the angel’s neck or the darkening of her blue eyes. If he had his way, he’d continue standing outside the entrance of the restaurant until she offered him her name and number. Hell, he’d take anything she chose to offer.

  This angel had a sexy edge to her that instantly placed his body on alert.

  He let out a long breath, and with his free hand, swept a blond wisp off her pretty face. “I’m really sorry. Please allow me to make amends and buy you a drink.”

  Her pretty, pink tongue wet her lips and he saw the consideration in her eyes. Plus, her fingers may have released their death grip on his sleeve, but they were still curled around his forearm. She feels the heat.

  “Please,” he repeated, hoping to convince her he wasn’t an ax murderer or the type of guy that picked up women in hotel lobbies. “I hear the mojitos are great when enjoyed on the patio. Very public.”

  “Mojitos for breakfast?” The twinkle in her eyes gave her away. A definite devilish gleam, so he knew she wasn’t as angelic as she first appeared.

  “It is South Beach.”

  She laughed and glanced behind her at the bustling restaurant, and when she turned back to him, she slowly raised her shoulders and broadened her smile. “Well . . .”

  “There you are, darling.” His former stepmother’s voice sounded from behind as a dainty hand swept over his back and a mental bell rang to mark the end of opportunity. “I told you I wouldn’t be late today.”

  The beautiful woman dropped her hand from his arm and stared at his breakfast date. Why had Eugenia picked this day of all days to arrive on time? He felt the petite blonde fidget, but he refused to let her step away and tightened his fingers on the soft swell of her hip. Hell, she’d think he was a mental case if he didn’t get it together.

  “Miracles never cease, Eugenia. You’ve pleasantly proven me wrong,” he said in a teasing voice, reluctantly breaking eye contact with the curious angel. He leaned over and kissed Eugenia’s cheek. “We were just talking about how good the mojitos are here.”

  “They are deliciously refreshing,” Eugenia agreed, enunciating each syllable with flare. Bypassing Ford and stepping up to the source of the uncomfortable swelling below his belt, his favorite ex-stepmother pulled the adorable, sexy woman into a hug. But being adorable and sexy hadn’t prepared her for Eugenia’s bulldozing. The angel’s eyes grew big with shock. “I’m Eugenia. Let’s get a table under one of the umbrellas, eh?”

  “Eugenia,” Ford tried to interrupt. “I’m—”

  “Pleased to meet you, Eugenia. I’m Charlie. Thank you for the invite, but regretfully, I can’t join you.”

  Was that to him or Eugenia? Ford studied Charlie’s features, but quickly decided he didn’t care who she addressed. He just wanted more time with her. His body hadn’t reacted to a woman like that in forever. He adjusted his stance, hoping to disguise the eager interest tenting his pants.

  “While I’d love to savor that mojito, this is a working breakfast for me.” She tapped the laptop case on her hip. The startled angel had recovered and was as composed as a senator’s campaign manager.

  “Come on, sugar. A little break is good for productivity. Vitamin D will do wonders to keep you motivated and energetic.” Eugenia was laying it on thick, but Ford didn’t object. He needed an advocate in his corner. And he wanted to learn more about Charlie. “And it’s been ages since I’ve met and gotten to know one of Ford’s friends—well, at least a beautiful one.”

  The pink blush returned and marked Charlie’s cheeks. Her perplexed gaze darted between them, but her smile held. Hell, she was good at awkward niceties.

  “What do you do?” Ford asked.

  “I’m a writer.” Charlie paused as if trying to convince herself of the statement. “I’m working on a piece about cruising, and figured I’d add a pre-cruise angle. Have you heard of a publication out of New York named City Wings?”

  “Yes,” he replied, finally allowing her retreat and releasing his hold on her hip. “I used to follow City Wings when it was only a blog—before it became the go-to magazine for post-college New Yorkers and their travel dreams.”

  “I like that,” Charlie said, a brightness in her blue eyes. “I’ll be sure to tell my boss how you described us.”

  “Please do,” Ford said, giving her his signature smile. The smile never failed him. Maybe now she’d stay with him? “Anyway, can we get you to reconsider that mojito if I promise to speak about City Wings ninety percent of the time?”

  “I wish,” Charlie replied, and from the way her eyes darkened with longing, he believed she did. “But I really need to review my notes. I haven’t been with City Wings since the beginning, so I’m not an established writer there. I started as a copy writer, then worked on shorts as a staff writer, so this is my first chance to prove myself and earn a byline.”

  “Good luck, even though I doubt you’ll need it. I think you’re well on your way to writer stardom, sugar. When can we read this cruise exposé?” Eugenia as
ked.

  “Hopefully in the Valentine’s Day issue. But I’m not sure I’d call it an exposé,” Charlie replied, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “It’s a feature about the best place to find love. I figured a cruise would be romantic and offer ample opportunity for l’amour.”

  “Now I understand.” Eugenia looked from Charlie to Ford with a conspiratorial smile. “You should definitely pick Keaton’s—”

  “Ford,” he corrected.

  “Oh, darling, sorry about that. I don’t care what you call yourself. I love you anyway, Ford.” His ex-stepmama laced her hand through his arm and stretched to place her red lips on his cheek in an exaggerated smooch. “Now, Ford can tell you a thing or two about cruising and love.”

  More than a thing or two, if she’d let him. He’d even be willing to show her.

  “He’s been working in the industry for over five years,” Eugenia offered.

  Charlie’s gaze darted to the hostess station. “I’d better get going. I want to make it to the port with time to spare before boarding. Nice meeting you both. Enjoy those mojitos.”

  He watched her walk away, knowing she’d do everything in her power to deny their attraction. By the reaction of her body to his touch, it was clear such sensation was outside her comfort zone. But she wasn’t going to be lost to him forever. He had no problem reaching out.

  Thanks to Eugenia’s bubbly manner, he had her name. Knew where she worked. And he’d be able to look her up when he returned to New York in two weeks. Two very long weeks, but worth every minute of waiting in order to savor the delectable woman for a few promising encounters.

  “Let’s go, darling,” Eugenia said, tugging on his arm and starting for the patio. “We have less than an hour to catch up, and I have a list of things your father asked me to review with you.”

  “I’m not wasting our time together discussing a list of his demands.” He’d much rather figure out how to connect with Charlie. “Besides, you’re divorced. Why do you have to do his dirty work for him?”

  “It’s not dirty work. He wants to make amends with his son.” Eugenia tapped long fingernails on the back of his hand as they waited for the hostess to return, smiling sweetly at him with the most patient look in her eyes. “He may be a bad husband, but he’s a good daddy. Both to you and your little sister.”