Bermuda Nights - The Boxed Set (19 page)

My voice came hot out of me. “It’s not what I do!”

She grinned. “Well, you’re a bit different, hun. Old-fashioned, I’d say. Victorian.”

My throat went dry. “You mean you –”

She shook her head. “No, no. If I start letting one guy openly fondle me in the bar, the floodgates would be unleashed. It’d be open season every night, and every reject with a cock would be lining up for his turn.

“So you never –”

She leant back. “Nah, he never approached me outside of work. Guess he figured I
had
to talk with him if he came into my bar. And I suppose I did.”

The scenarios swirled around in my mind, refusing to sit still. “But he was fondling you, and you never told me about it.”

She shrugged. “I knew you’d be like this, sweetie. All up in arms about a little drunken tomfoolery. He didn’t cause any harm. You had a good thing with him. I knew your too-strict lines would destroy the relationship over something that was just a drunken playfulness. I was protecting you from yourself.”

I stared at her. “My lines are part of me. They are important to me. I should be able to decide for myself where to draw them! Especially when it comes to the man who is my partner!”

She shook her head. “But honey, it was just a mistake. Too much alcohol. No harm done.”

My throat went dry. “You stopped him, sure. But how can you know there weren’t other times with other women! If he was willing to do that with you, who knows who else he was doing the same thing with! And the other women might not have been so willing to draw the line. Didn’t I deserve to know he was capable of that?”

Her brow furrowed, as if she hadn’t thought of that. “Well, then, you’d have found out and left him.”

I shook my head. “How could you say that? Clearly I didn’t know about his nights with you. He could have been doing this with a dozen other women, betraying me, and you knew this drive was within him! You didn’t warn me!”

Her mouth tweaked into a smile. “Honey, warn you that he was male? You’ve been reading too many of those Jane Austen novels. You’re dreaming about the type of guy that just doesn’t exist. You need to accept the real world.”

She let out a large yawn. “In the morning, we need to chat about Evan. But right now, I need some sleep.”

She slumped down onto her pillow and pulled the blankets up around her shoulders.

Minutes ticked by as I stared at the snoring mound, emotions whirling and shaking me to my very core. At last I drew to my feet, knowing I had to get away somewhere – anywhere.

Chapter 8

I barely knew where my feet were taking me, and then there was the soft spray of salt water on my cheek as I walked along the deck’s railing. The night was quiet, soft stars shimmering against a patchwork of dusty clouds. The ocean beneath was a rolling ribbon of lace and quilted ebony.

There was a form up ahead.

He had his back to me, but I knew it was Evan, even in these shadows, even in the softly rolling swirls of a Vladimir Kush painting. He was staring out into the frosted wake, one hand running gently along the railing where I’d stood all those nights ago.

It seemed like a lifetime.

He glanced around as I approached, first in attentive curiosity, next surprised pleasure, and then, as I grew nearer, in concern. He opened his arms and drew me in, his mouth coming down to my ear as I folded within his embrace.

“Amanda, what is it?”

Where could I even begin? The wealth of storylines tangled and twisted in my head, and I drew in a long, deep breath. I had to begin at the beginning.

“When I got back to my room, Jeff was there.”

Evan’s body turned to steel, and his voice was the sibilant hiss of a sword being drawn from its sheath. “Did he touch you?”

“No, no,” I reassured him. “I stayed out of sight. He wasn’t there to see me. He was in conversation with Kayla.”

His tension only ebbed slightly. “With Kayla? About what?”

I shook my head. It all still seemed too fantastic to take in. “Apparently it’s Kayla’s fault he’s here on this cruise. Jeff wanted to lure me back into his grasp. She thought it would be a good idea to set the scene under moonlight and stardust. So she arranged a Love Boat style shipboard reunion for us.”

I could hear the disbelief in his voice. “Surely she knew how he had treated you before.”

I gave a soft shrug. “Apparently her standards for men are exceedingly low.” I drew my arms around his back, soaking in the sturdiness of his muscles. He was my lifeline, my connection to a sanity which was becoming more tenuous with each passing day. My throat closed up as I continued. “I also discovered that Jeff had been routinely fondling Kayla while visiting her at her bar.”

Evan stilled. “He what?”

I nodded against him. “Apparently Kayla figured all men do this, so it wasn’t worth mentioning to me.”

Evan’s voice was a growl. “Not all men.”

I gave a wry smile, pulling him closer. “I know.”

His arms drew tight. When he spoke, his voice shimmered with tension. “I can’t end my tour with you in Boston, Amanda. I need to finish out my contract. Will you be all right, with Jeff around?”

I nodded against him. “I’ll be fine. My office isn’t that far from where I live.”

“I have some friends I can get in touch with. They can –”

“No, really, I’ll be fine,” I assured him.

He gently pressed me back, looking down into my eyes. “If Jeff tries anything – anything at all – I want you to contact the authorities. Don’t take it lightly. He could escalate.”

I brushed a hand along his cheek. “I will. I promise.”

His eyes shadowed. “I should be there for you. I shouldn’t be abandoning you into the city with him roaming free like a rabid wolf.”

I ran my hand through his hair. “You’ll be home to me soon.”

His gaze drew down me. “Not soon enough.”

My thoughts went to Jeff and Kayla, to the way she shielded me for my own good. A shadow drifted over me.

Evan’s brow creased. “What is it?”

I looked up at him. “When we start fresh, on your return to Boston, promise me you’ll always tell me the truth. Even if you think I don’t want to hear it, don’t hide things from me for my own protection. I deserve to be able to make those choices for myself.”

A wave of emotion swept through his face, and he drew me in against him, his chest a sturdy foundation on which I could build a lifetime of joy.

His voice was thick when he spoke. “You absolutely deserve that.”

At long last he pressed me back, bringing a wry smile to his lips. “And, right now, you deserve some sleep. I think you last got a full night’s sleep … what? Two nights ago? Go on back to your room. Rest. We can sort this all out tomorrow.”

He wrapped his arm around me. “And, just to make sure you get there safely, I’ll escort you there myself.”

Evan was right. By the time he got me back to my door I was exhausted. When he pressed a kiss to my forehead, it was all I could do to open the door, tumble into the bed, and drag the covers over me before darkness drew me into its stygian depths.

Chapter 9

I sat back in my wrought iron chair, absorbing in amusement the babble of conversation streaming on all sides beneath the radiant afternoon sun.

Man, if only we weren’t on this stupid ship and were back in Boston!

Don’t you wish the cruise ended yesterday?

Wonder how much a helicopter flight would cost?

What if you feigned a heart attack?

I don’t know, what are the symptoms?

I shook my head. Only Red Sox fans could be this thoroughly die-hard. The World Series was beginning today, and our beloved Sox were playing a home game in Fenway. It seemed half of the ship lived within an hour of the stadium and would have been guzzling beers on Lansdowne Street, almost within sight of the green monster. The other half were missing out on extravagant parties and Sam-Adams-soaked celebrations.

The ship had done its best to accommodate the home-team crowd, and in a few hours every TV on board would be tuned to the game. The crew was even converting the many lounges into game-watching locations with projection TVs.

But that just wasn’t enough for most of the fans. These loyalists had endured generations of disappointment until that miraculous bloody-sock triumph in 2004. The feeling of supernatural intervention still endured. Every fan present wanted to be in their local bars, with their been-through-it-all buddies, to experience the game in authentic beantown style.

If they didn’t, all could be lost.

There was a movement above me, and Kayla plunked herself at my side, laying out a trio of shimmering aqua drinks. Her voice held light mirth. “There you are, sleepyhead. You were out like a corpse when I left in the morning. Guess you needed to catch up on your rest.” She winked at me, then took down a swallow.

I eyed the third glass with trepidation. “Is someone joining us?”

She chuckled. “Nah. The bartender is just sweetening me up, that’s all.” Her eyes twinkled. “I think I’ve just about got my baker’s dozen lined up.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

She waved a hand toward the bar. “Not as easy to pour yourself free drinks here; they keep an eye out for that sort of a thing. So I’ve made friends with thirteen different bartenders on the ship. I figure if each one gives me a drink during the day, I can keep up my standard of living without having to pay for it.”

I chuckled. “Thirteen drinks a day?”

She shrugged. “Sure, it’s about right. You start the day light, of course.”

I blinked at her. “You’re serious? You really drink thirteen full drinks – alcoholic drinks – every day?”

She toasted me and downed half her glass. “I’m a bartender, remember? We drink with our patrons. Maybe a drink an hour during the afternoon, but you get down into the evening, and the shots, then that’s two or three in an hour, easy. Heck, I’m being good to draw the line at thirteen.”

It was as if pieces were sliding off of her tangerine dress and reassembling into a shape I didn’t recognize. “But Kayla! God, your liver must be near collapse!”

She grinned. “Sure, there’s some who can’t handle the stuff well. Who could be burnt out.” Her eyes glowed. “But I’ve been doing this for years, sweetie. I’m made of tough stuff. My insides are used to it.”

“Your doctor told you that?”

She laughed. “Doctor? Those guys are shysters who just want to help you pay for their new yacht by assigning you to all sorts of expensive tests and exams. No way am I letting one of those guys near me.” She patted her flat stomach with pride. “I’m in great shape, and you can see it. Heck, I think the alcohol is good for me. Antioxidants or something.”

There was a shimmer of a cymbal from the gazebo, and she turned her head for a minute, looking back toward the band members gathered there. When she returned her gaze to me, it had a shielded quality.

“So, have you talked with Evan?”

I held my gaze on her, resisting the urge to glance over to where he stood tuning his guitar. My tone stayed even. “Evan? I thought you didn’t want me to talk to him any more. You worried he was dangerous.”