Authors: Phoebe Conn
“Usually. It’s so nice to meet you. Commanding this ship has to be a great responsibility, and we won’t be in the way. Will we, Alejandro?”
“No, of course, not,” he agreed.
The captain clasped his hands behind his back. “We provide all our passengers with exemplary service, but if there’s anything special you require, Mrs. Vasquez, don’t hesitate to let me know. We don’t begin the formal dinners until we sail. I hope you won’t mind dining here in your cabin until then.”
From the moment Ana had spoken, Captain Reyes had addressed his comments to her, and Alejandro swiftly grew annoyed. “We’re fine here, and I won’t keep you from your duties.”
Reyes nodded. “Perhaps I’ll see you on deck tomorrow.”
Ana replied before Alejandro could. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Alejandro nodded a quick good-bye and closed the door. “He was flirting with you.”
“Oh my God, this is Tuesday, isn’t it? But I’m in no mood for a fight. I couldn’t see him well enough to tell, and your family owns the ship, so he has to be accommodating. Men like to flirt with me, Alejandro, and while I don’t flirt back, I can’t be rude or my professional reputation will suffer. People have to describe me to their friends as one of the nicest women they’ve ever met. We probably should have had this discussion earlier, but when I didn’t want to be recognized, there wasn’t a problem. Maybe I should stay in hiding as a Goth girl for the cruise.”
He opened the refrigerator and took out the bottle of nuts. He poured himself a handful, began with the pecans and ate them slowly. “You’re right. Any man who marries a beautiful woman should expect men to flirt with her. I just don’t want Captain Reyes fawning over you.”
“Come here and kiss me.”
He brushed off his hands and complied. “How far are you willing to go to distract me?”
“How much distraction do you need?”
“An enormous amount apparently.”
“Since I can barely pucker my lips, I’ll have to owe you.” She raised her hands to cover a wide yawn. “I’m sorry. I think the pain pills make me sleepy. Cruises are supposed to be relaxing, but…”
He kissed her again, slowly, tenderly, and straightened up. “I’m going down to the kitchen to see what they’re serving tonight. It won’t be one of the spectacular meals they’ll have when we sail. I could get us something else while we’re still in port.”
“Soup is all I’ll need, and a soft drink. Pain meds and alcohol don’t mix.”
“What about some warm bread and butter?”
“Hmm…that does sound good. Maybe some ice cream?”
He gave her another kiss and went straight to the bridge rather than the kitchen. From there, he was directed to Captain Reyes’s cabin. The door was open. “Captain, do you have a moment?”
Reyes left his desk and welcomed him in. “I read about your wife’s accident. Does she have health concerns you didn’t wish to discuss in front of her?”
“Rest is all she requires, and she’d prefer whatever privacy you can afford her rather than your solicitous attention.”
The captain folded his arms across his chest. “We provide everyone on board with solicitous attention, Mr. Vasquez. As I’m sure you’re well aware, it’s what makes the Ortiz Line so popular.”
Alejandro gritted his teeth. “Attention can be overly tiring, and Ana needs rest.”
A slow smile teased the corner of the captain’s mouth as he nodded. “As you wish.”
Alejandro doubted he had accomplished anything other than to make himself look ridiculous, and he headed for the kitchen without further delay. Although he’d not sailed on the
Siren
in years, he recognized the chef and was relieved their meals wouldn’t be a concern.
A steward brought their dinner on a rolling table, and Ana thought the potato soup was especially good. She buttered a piece of the warm bread. “This is perfect. Thank you for bringing me here.”
“You’re welcome.” Alejandro had a chicken dish with a buttery crust. “You have to try this.” He scooped up a taste on a spoon, but she raised her hand.
“I’m a vegetarian, remember?”
Embarrassed, he laid his fork on his plate. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve lost whole days, so you needn’t apologize for missing a few details when there’s so much to learn about each other. I hope you won’t mind my asking about money. You’ve told me it isn’t a concern, but do you have a trust fund or some other way to receive money from the Ortiz Line?”
He took another bite of chicken before answering. “When my parents divorced, my mother received an enormous settlement and put most of the money in an account for me, so I’d be independent when I reached twenty-one. ‘Escape’ my father’s control, is the way she put it. She made wise investments, and the money keeps growing. It’s not an inexhaustible fund, but more than enough for us to live comfortably. You should keep your money in your present accounts. It’s yours.”
“So I can escape being under your control?”
He reached across the table for her hand. “I’m not ever going to try to control you, Ana. What would be the fun in that?”
“I agree, but some people are into it.” She finished her soup and looked up. “I’m sorry, the word control sent my mind straight to S&M and then on to Mapplethorpe’s nudes. Do you remember Gian Carlo telling us Jaime had asked him to pose for the nude project, but couldn’t supply the name of a gallery interested or a publisher for a book? He said something about having the money to do it, but Gian Carlo didn’t want any part of such a vague deal. If Jaime had a silent partner with enough money for him to complete the project, publish and promote it, shouldn’t he be a suspect? People are often murdered over money.”
He focused on his plate. “Montoya must be looking into Jaime’s finances. There would have been a contract, wouldn’t there?”
“I suppose. It was just an idea that crossed my mind. It doesn’t mean it’s true.”
“You told me you didn’t mind being alone with your own thoughts, but I hope you’re not dwelling on the murder. Please forget Jaime Campos and concentrate on getting well.”
She leaned back in her chair. “I’m working on it, but my leg won’t heal any faster regardless of my thoughts. Could we go out on the balcony when we’re finished?”
“Of course.” He left the table to slide open the door and rolled her out into the night. The air was still comfortably warm. He pulled a chair up beside her and held her hand.
“Speaking of thoughts, you still owe me a proposal.”
He sucked in a breath. “I’m sorry. The day got away from me.”
“It needn’t be perfect, Alejandro. I’ve already said yes.”
He brought her fingers to his lips. “You did.” The port was ablaze with light for the night shifts, and he could see clearly. He wanted to keep Ana and wished it hadn’t become so damn complicated. Dr. Pallares’s request they keep her pregnancy secret for a while had made sense at the time, but he was hiding too much to feel comfortable about it now.
“I wish we could dance. They do have dancing on board the
Siren
, don’t they?” she asked.
“It’s part of the romance and fantasy of the voyage. We want this to be the best vacation our passengers have ever had, so they’ll come back as often as they possibly can.”
“I earn my living projecting a fantasy, but let’s make a pact not to spin fantasies around each other.”
Already guilty, he leaned close to spread a light trail of kisses along her jaw. “You’re wearing the same Goth wig you wore when we met, so I’d say some fantasies can be a good thing.”
“True, but…”
He ran his fingertips down her arm. “I don’t want you to get cold. Let’s go in.”
She caught his hand. “I am tired. Stay up and watch movies—whatever you want to do. You won’t wake me when you come to bed.”
“First, we have to get you there. There are women among the staff, and some will already be on board. I should have arranged to have a maid for you earlier.”
“Alejandro, please, I don’t need a lady’s maid. Just roll me into the bathroom and I’ll take care of myself. I can grab hold of the sink or wall for balance.” She pulled off her black wig and shook out her hair.
“No, there’s too great a chance you’ll fall and hurt yourself worse than you already are. If you don’t want me to call someone, I’ll help you myself.”
“Absolutely not. I feel better than I did when we left the hospital, and I don’t want to star in my own reality show.”
He raised his hand. “I won’t look. I promise.”
“You’re very sweet, but no, bathrooms are off limits. If you must, go find some willing female to play maid.”
“Sit right here and don’t move while I’m gone.”
“Like a rock.”
He didn’t trust her as he went to the cabin phone. They were the only passengers on board, but a concierge answered and promised to send a maid immediately. Alejandro thanked him.
“Apparently the captain has staff ready for us.”
“Your father pays his salary, and he wouldn’t want any complaints coming from you.”
“Are you saying our service is less than sincere?”
“I’ll pass on that. Would you please find my nightgown? My toiletries are in the small flowered bag in my suitcase.”
“I’ll get it.” Fatima had folded her clothes in an organized fashion, and he pulled out a pale aqua satin nightgown. It held a faint hint of floral perfume. She’d posed in perfume ads, but he didn’t recall her ever wearing any. He carried her things to her. “Do you have a favorite perfume?”
“Not really. I rinse off everything when I finish work and don’t bother with it when I’m not.”
He answered the knock at the door. A petite maid in a black uniform and white apron greeted him. “Please come in. My wife would be happy for your help, wouldn’t you, dear?”
“Most certainly. Let’s go into the bathroom and close the door. What’s your name?”
The maid rolled Ana’s chair into the large powder-blue tiled room and shut the door behind them. “I’m Marie, and I’m so happy to meet you. I’ve seen you in so many ads, but I didn’t believe anyone could really be as perfect as you.”
“I’m a little less than perfect for the moment, Marie, but without makeup and a hair stylist, I’m not that different from anyone else.”
“Oh, but you are! Look at your hair.” She picked up the trailing curls, held them up like wings and let them float down over the back of the wheelchair. “How long did it take you to grow it so long?”
Ana gazed at the mirror, but saw only swimming colors. “I’ve had long hair forever, Marie. Now help me out of this dress and into my nightgown, please.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Alejandro paced their cabin and searched for what else he might have forgotten she’d need. He’d never had dates who needed special care, but a wife required far more tender concern. She wouldn’t be his wife until Captain Reyes married them at sea, and as she had pointed out, the captain couldn’t refuse his requests, so it was as good as done.
When Ana rolled out of the bathroom dressed in the pretty gown, his glance was immediately drawn to the deep purple bruise crossing her shoulder where her seat belt had held her during the crash. Her hospital gown and wrap dress had covered it, and seeing it now, he fought not to grimace, but his smile wavered.
“I know. I’m several shades of purple where I shouldn’t be. The bruises will fade long before my leg heals, so I won’t be that hard to look at for long.”
He tipped Marie and showed her out. “You’ll never be hard to look at, Ana. Don’t even think that.”
“Right now, I don’t want to think at all. Will you help me into bed?”
He picked her up from the wheelchair and carried her to the bed. He’d already turned down the covers and eased her between the sheets. “Would you like some music as you fall asleep?”
“Please, that would be nice.”
He tuned in a classical station on the radio set into the wall and turned it low.
He couldn’t sit through a movie and went up on deck to walk off the energy he could barely contain. Once they left port on Friday, he’d have to weave in and out through the passengers strolling the deck. It was a popular pastime on a cruise, and while no one would recognize him, he’d not considered how quickly Ana would be sighted by fans. She’d be sweet and sign autographs, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He supposed he’d have to get used to it. He laughed as he thought of being called Mr. Santillan, but so what? Ana would be his wife.
Chapter Fourteen
Ana had fallen asleep in the center of the king-size bed, leaving plenty of room for him on either side. He wondered if couples argued over who took which side of the bed. Some must. He settled into the side on her left so he’d not bump her broken leg. He slid his arm around her shoulders to cushion her head against his shoulder. She murmured his name sleepily. He kissed her forehead, and she looked up at him.
“This is nice.”
“It is.” Her lips were soft and inviting, and one good-night kiss melted into a dozen. He reluctantly reminded himself she was too bruised to want more and drew back. “We never talked about having a family.”
“Little girls and boys who look like us?”