Ship of Dreams (Dreams Come True Series Book 2) (14 page)

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 h
ad 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.

Franco recommended a busy little wine bar in the shadow of Trajan’s Column that served hot and cold dishes. And with strong
grappa
to wash it down, Nathan was feeling no pain after lunch.

Weaving a little as they walked over to where Franco sat with the car, he remembered one of his grandmother’s favorite movies,
Roman Holiday
, he said, “Hey! Ever been to The Mouth of Truth?”

“You mean La Bocca della Verità?”

“Yes, Miss Smarty Pants.”

“No.”

“Then
andiamo
, Franco!”

Fifteen minutes later, they stood in front of the iconic carving. “According to the movie
Roman Holiday
, The Mouth of Truth acts as a lie detector. Anyone given to lying who puts their hand in the mouth will have it bitten off.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes. I know.”

“So, go ahead.”

“Go ahead, what?”

“Put your hand in the mouth.”

“Why me?”

“Because I’m a gentleman, and ladies always go first.”

“You and your chivalry.” Laura hesitated.

“Scared?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she sniffed. “It’s just a silly legend.”

“Then you have nothing to worry about.” He lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Laura swallowe
d hard, then stepped closer to the mouth of the carving and raised her hand. She glanced up to see a grinning Nathan. With some trepidation, she slid her hand into the mouth, half-expecting to have it bitten off at any moment given all her recent lies.

Having met his challenge, she yanked her hand from the orifice and breathed a sigh of relief. “Your turn.”

That wiped the grin from his face. “What?”

“Oh, no.” She shoved him closer. “If I did it, you have to do it, too.”

“Fine. Whatever.”

Nathan lifted his left hand toward the mouth.

“Aren’t you right-handed?” Laura asked.