Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2 (18 page)

“Will do.”

The encounter soured Richard’s mood even further, but thinking of the amazing woman waiting for him helped. Richard took the crew elevator to the Poseidon Deck where he was to meet Fallon. Below the water line, the pitch and roll of the ship wasn’t as obvious as on the upper decks. His progress was slow as he stopped to consult with bartenders and wait staff in the various lounges at that level. It never hurt to reassure, or shower praise on someone who’d done his or her job without having to be told to do so.

Several repeat passengers stopped him as he made his way through Zeus’s Temple. If they’d enjoyed the
Lothario
enough to come again, he owed them a few minutes of his time. Customer service was his job, after all. A few passengers commented on the weather and he did his best to assure them the ship was in no danger. He’d almost made it through the dining room when he caught sight of Thor and the woman with him. He recognized her immediately as the same passenger he’d calmed on day one of the cruise. She made a beeline toward him and launched herself at him.

Richard staggered back under the force of her assault just as the ship took a nasty roll to starboard and almost sent them both sprawling across a nearby table. He wrapped his arms around her to keep her from falling and braced his legs against the reverse motion as the ship righted itself. She didn’t seem to notice the violent lurch as she wrapped her legs around his waist and planted a big kiss on his lips. His thoughts were on the ship and the obvious worsening of the storm. When he realized her lips were on his, he pushed her away. The ship rolled again and he reached out to steady her.

“Whoa there. What’s going on?”

“Mr. Wolfe,” she gushed. “How can I ever thank you? Thor,” she reached for the big blond
masseur
, “I mean, Eric, and I are engaged!”

If he wasn’t mistaken, Thor actually blushed as he extricated his pint-sized Amazon from Richard’s fingers and secured her against his hip. “Engaged?”

“Engaged,” Eric confirmed. “We took one look at each other and knew we were goners. Never thought it would happen to me, but I can’t say I’m sorry. Thanks for sending her my way.”

“You’re welcome.” Richard issued his congratulations, ordered a very expensive bottle of champagne for the celebratory couple, and then excused himself. He left a message with the Maitre d’ for Fallon and headed to the Bridge.

Captain Whittier hardly spared him a glance before returning his attention to the instruments. The full crew was on hand, and hard at work. Richard surveyed the angry sea and waited for the Captain to acknowledge him.

“Richard,” he said a few minutes later.

“James. How bad is it?”

“Bad. It came up too quick. We didn’t have time to avoid it, so we’ve got no choice but to get through the best we can.”

“How long?”

“A few more hours at best. Even then the seas aren’t going to be suitable for outdoor activities.”

“Are we in any danger?”

“No. The
Lothario
is more than capable of weathering this level of storm. The only concern is the possibility of a rogue wave. We’re watching for one. If there’s one out there, it won’t take us by surprise.”

“Do you mind if I stay here? Just in case?”

“Make yourself at home just don’t expect any of us to entertain you.”

The quiet efficiency of the Bridge staff assured him. He sat off to the side and observed. Hiring a competent crew had cost big-time, but neither Richard nor Ryan had been comfortable with anything less than the best. It was times like these that Richard knew they’d made the right decision. The storm worsened before it began to wane, and he had little time to wonder why Fallon hadn’t joined him as his message had asked her to. Perhaps she’d known his focus needed to be on the ship and the safety of the 3,600 people onboard. Lord knew, when Fallon was near, he couldn’t think of anything but her.

When the storm abated, and the ship had moved into somewhat calmer waters, Richard allowed himself to wonder again about Fallon’s absence. A glance at the clock told him it was much too late, or early, as the case may be, to disturb her now. He made his way to his cabin and collapsed on the bed. A few hours of sleep sounded perfect. The ship continued to pitch and roll, not nearly as bad as it had at the height of the storm, but enough to make his sleep fitful. Between intermittent wakefulness, he dreamed of Fallon.

Fallon braced a hand against the wall as the ship listed to starboard, then righted itself. She scanned the dining room for Richard. He’d said he would meet her here, but she was running late since her afternoon nap had lasted longer than planned. It didn’t take long to find Richard. He stood out in any room, something she knew she’d have to come to terms with if they were going to be together. Women were going to notice him. Some were going to fling themselves at him. What she didn’t expect was to see him in the middle of a crowded room with a petite brunette wrapped around his waist, his lips locked to hers, and his arms wrapped around her in a death-grip.

Her heart rose to her throat, and then plummeted to her toes. The ship rolled again and she had to brace herself to keep from falling. Her stomach rolled with the ship and she ran, fighting her way along the hall as the deck rose and fell beneath her feet. How could he? After all they’d said and done together this afternoon? Blazing anger coupled with humiliation warred with the sour bile in her stomach and made for a miserable combination. She turned the corner and bumped into a solid wall of muscle.

“Whoa! Fallon, are you alright?”

“Drew.” She ducked her head to hide the tears pooling in her eyes. “I have to go.”

His hands gripped her shoulders and he leaned down to look at her face. “You don’t look so good. Come on.” He steered her away from the dining room. “I’ll take you down to the Security Office. The ship doesn’t move as much down there. You can sit for a while, until you feel better.”

Fallon wanted to be alone, but she didn’t have the energy to argue with Drew. He was such a nice guy, always wanting to help. He wrapped his arm around her waist, and she allowed herself to be waylaid. What difference did it make anyway? She could be sick anywhere.

Drew pushed her into a chair and disappeared, promising to return with crackers and tea to sooth her stomach. Grateful to be alone, she let him go and dropped her head onto her folded arms atop the desk.

“Hey, Bitch.”

Fallon jumped. She hadn’t noticed anyone else in the room when she came in, but clearly she wasn’t alone. They had someone in the holding cell—a woman, by the voice. Fallon stood and peered over the console at the last person on earth she wanted to see.

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for Richard,” Crystal replied, stretching on the cot like a cat wanting her belly scratched. “He should be here any minute now. You can stay and watch if you want to. I know how you get your kicks watching other people fuck.”

Fallon took in the scene. Crystal, handcuffed, half-naked on the cot in the deserted office. Was Richard playing some sort of twisted sex game with the bimbo? After what she’d just seen, it wouldn’t surprise her a bit.

“Cat got your tongue, Bitch?”

“No. . . no,” she said in a stronger voice than she thought possible.

“Want to join us? He likes to play the dom, you know, be in charge, tie me up. I don’t mind as long as I get to be with him. I’m sure Richard wouldn’t mind a threesome. He’s always had a thing for you anyway. You can be the female cop, just don’t get any ideas about Richard. He’s mine.”

She was going to be sick. Bile rose in her throat and she clamped a hand over her mouth and ran. The sound of Crystal’s laughter followed her down the hall. She made it to her cabin, and the bathroom, seconds before she heaved the meager contents of her stomach.

She’d never been more miserable in her life. Her heart was a solid stone in her chest. Her head hurt, her stomach cramped in tandem with every movement the ship made. She’d never been seasick before, but now she understood the enormity of the malady. A good portion of the night she spent in a tight ball on the floor of the tiny shower, where earlier, she and Richard had shared what she’d believed to be a special moment. Now, the thought of the words they’d exchanged, the things they’d done together, only made her stomach cramp worse. He’d been seeing the bimbo all along, playing his dominance games with her, and God knew how many others.

As the hours passed, Fallon berated herself for being a gullible idiot. It had all been a lie. A very elaborate one to be sure, but she’d fallen for his, I’m-in-love, I-don’t-want-anyone-but-you routine, like some naïve teenager. He hadn’t even bothered to see why she didn’t show up for the Chocolate Buffet. Not that she wanted to see him, or him to see how low she’d sunk. She’d made enough of a fool of herself for one day, no need to compound the error.

Finally, in the wee hours of the morning, the ship sailed into calmer waters and Fallon peeled herself off the cold tile floor and crawled into bed. Her heart was a hot lead ball somewhere near her toes now. Her stomach felt like a wrung out dishtowel, and Noah was hammering his ark together inside her skull. Between puking and crying, she was afraid she’d need an IV to replace lost fluids. Her sleep was fretful. Richard Wolfe couldn’t even leave her dreams alone.

Morning came too soon. Fallon swung her feet to the mercifully unmoving floor and buried her head in her hands. She had a long day ahead of her and a seasick, heartsick, and a crying hangover couldn’t get in her way. Back in the shower, this time on her feet, she washed away as much of the previous day and night as she could. A final blast of cold water jump started her. A gallon or two of caffeine and she’d be good to go.

The twenty-four hour, open-air café on the Mediterranean Deck was a popular place for the early risers, as well as the party-all-night crowd. Fallon talked one of the waiters out of his sun visor and donned her darkest sunglasses. Usually she took little notice of the carnal activities going on around her. Living on the
Lothario
, she had formed a detachment to her surroundings. It was either that, or be horny all the time. This morning, she hid behind her dark glasses and watched the various displays going on around her. Every kiss, every intimate touch, was saltwater in an open wound. She accepted the pain as punishment for her stupidity. She only hoped these shipboard romances had a happier ending than hers had.

Hadn’t she known all along not to get involved with Richard? She’d managed to live with her unwise feelings for him and had steeled herself to walk away, and then he’d blackmailed her into staying. Sipping her third cup of coffee, she thought back to what a telling moment that had been. She should have called his bluff immediately. If Ryan had been onboard, she could have gone to him, and none of this would have ever happened. She would have left the ship before this cruise, and her heart would still be whole, empty, but whole. Empty sounded a whole lot better than shattered.

It took four cups of coffee and a pity-party giant cinnamon roll, before she began to feel human, and then she began to plan.

* * * * *

Richard speared his fingers through his hair and took a deep, cleansing breath. The sun had barely cleared the horizon before he’d been woken up by a haggard faced kid calling himself the acting Cruise Director. Apparently, an overwhelming number of passengers had succumbed to the violent ship movement the night before. Among the ones suffering was Jason, the official acting Cruise Director.

The first thought he had was for Fallon. He missed her and hoped her stomach had weathered the storm. He handed the weary eyed third in line a note for Fallon. The too-young man assured him he knew who Fallon was, and would deliver the note immediately. Richard relaxed.

Fallon would find him, and as they had many times before, they would deal with today’s problems. Over the last few months, whenever he’d needed a hand, it seemed Fallon was there, working side by side with him. He’d come to expect her company, and respect her help. They worked well together. An image of the two of them 'working' together filled his mind and he had to smile to himself. Yes, they were well matched, in many ways.

He dressed, confident he would be sinking inside Fallon in a few short hours, and he had no intention of leaving her ever again.

He worked on autopilot. Thanks to the vigilant crew, all passengers were accounted for, always a worry when the seas were as rough and unpredictable as they had been last night. He authorized shopping discounts and comped dinners for countless passengers who’d visited the infirmary overnight. He listened patiently to the ones who felt the need to complain about the weather, as if he could do something about it. More than once, he looked around, expecting to see Fallon pitching in. After lunch, he led the regularly scheduled tour of the Bridge, and fielded more questions regarding last evening’s storm.

It was late in the afternoon before he had a chance to wonder what had happened to Fallon. She hadn’t found him, not a stretch, as he’d been on every deck from forward to aft, and everything in between. Half the time, he didn’t know where he was himself. He found a house phone and called her cabin. No answer. Where the devil was she? He sent one of the front desk staff to walk the pool decks and search every restaurant and bar, with orders to escort her to him when they found her.