Spooning Daisy (7 page)

Maybe,
hopefully
, Charity was right. Maybe, in a few months, memories would fade and Daisy would no longer be the pariah she seemed to be now.

Besides, she had a plan. She would put Wild Man Lodge on the culinary map, just like she’d done for Fireflies. That kind of recognition would surely get her back in the good graces of the Seattle restaurant establishment, not to mention the Royal Academy of Chefs. Sure, she was being punished
now
, but when it came to filling dining rooms, people wanted talent. When it came to food, Daisy had talent. She
would
get her Golden Spoon back!

Not that it was going to be easy, adding stars to a restaurant that actually had
fish’n’chips
on its menu, but the alternative was permanent exile in Otter Bite . . .

Daisy shook off that nightmarish thought. Even in the wilderness, she was a chef to be reckoned with!

Feeling much better, she exchanged her oversized sleep shirt for comfy sweats, intending a few laps around the deck. This early it would be quiet and the poor schmucks without a cabin would be hunkered into their sleeping bags.

“I’m going for a walk, Elizabeth,” Daisy said, tying her shoelaces. “I won’t be gone long.” She searched the cabin for her key, but had no luck. She stopped and thought, trying to retrieve her memory like a file from a crashed hard drive.

Adam.
He had used her key to unlock the cabin door, then his lips brushed hers—true to his word, Dr. Bricker was
mostly
a gentleman; afterward, he gently steered Daisy into her cabin.

Surely not.
Racing the few steps to the door, she swung it open and looked down at the knob. Her key was still in the lock, its pendant with her cabin number hanging from the key chain.

“Oh my God,” Daisy groaned, thankful someone hadn’t come along and taken it . . . or worse. How lucky was that?

Lucky.
With key in hand, she paused. She had been
lucky
. Not an experience she’d had lately. But last night with her handsome doctor she’d felt really lucky. Lucky that the evening ended with a kiss and not a lawsuit.

It seemed like forever since she’d had blessings to count, but maybe her rough seas had finally given way to smooth sailing.

It was breezier on deck than Daisy had expected and crisper, too, but it felt great to be out of her cabin and walking in the early morning salt air. Deck lights blended with the fading dark; it was hard to distinguish where one began and the other ended. Voices reached her from the dock below, mingling with the shrieks of seagulls floating on invisible winds, chasing the fleeing night. The rhythmic
slap-slap-slap
of a jogger came toward her then faded behind, a nod of greeting exchanged as he passed. Skirting the occasional puddle, along with the occasional stalwart passenger cocooned in a lounge chair, Daisy stopped at the forward observation deck, outside the solarium with its glass walls. She looked east toward the city of Prince Rupert and the pink and golden glow rising off the horizon; she watched until the sun crowned, birthing a new day. Continuing her walk, she rounded the corner to the starboard side, where a blast of wind flailed her curls about her face.

“Oh,
maaaan
!” Blinded, she pushed into the glass door of the solarium and cleared the hair from her face. In climate controlled comfort, she headed toward the heart of the ship, her eyes drifting over sleeping bodies, each claiming a small piece of the solarium like a squatter.

Something familiar snagged her gaze. She stopped and cocked her head, fighting the urge to run. Craning her neck, she focused on the snoozing bundle only a few lounge chairs from where she stood glued to the speckled teal carpet. Pushing out the side of the unzipped sleeping bag was a socked foot. The attached leg seemed to be wrapped in a hard plastic brace or splint with Velcro fasteners, but the sleeping bag prevented Daisy from seeing above the calf.

She jumped at the sudden rattle of dishes and the accompanying raft of voices from the awakening cafeteria. Daisy was tempted to go with her first urge and flee, but curiosity forced one step, then another.

Inch by painstaking inch, Daisy crept between empty loungers and sleeping passengers toward the object of her dread. As she closed the gap, her heart leapt into her throat.

She stopped short of the socked foot. Her gaze traveled the length of the bundle and rested on the face at the other end. Stubbled, just like the first time she’d seen it. And, yes, still pleasing—as if that mattered—in spite of the discontented furrow marring its brow. But near the hairline, above the temple and just tickling the forehead, was a healing wound she’d not seen before.

Or had she? She thought back to the brown stains on her cashmere sweater, the grimace on this same face, to the blood flowing over an anguished blue eye. It all belonged to the man looking most uncomfortable in the chaise before her.

Of all the places Max Kendall could be, of all the boats, what was he doing here, on
hers
? And why in the world hadn’t he booked a cabin?
Probably too cheap
, she figured, remembering their disastrous date and how Max insisted she finish her drink. If only they’d left when she wanted, she lamented yet again, before deciding this was not the time or place to be lamenting anything. She’d verified her fears and now she needed to get out of there, fast. If Max woke and saw her . . . well, she didn’t want to think about his reaction. The lawsuit hanging over her head said all that needed to be said about Max Kendall’s spite.

As if retreating from a snoozing bear, Daisy slowly backed her way to the next lounge chair and was starting to turn for the exit when the ship bellowed its departure. She froze as those around her woke. Her eyes locked on Max’s face, expecting at any second to meet his blue eyes . . .

But his eyelids stayed shut without so much as a flutter. Daisy stared, disbelieving her luck, before those moving around jolted her senses. Feeling their questioning gazes, she spun from the scene and headed quickly for the outside door.

Why did she look back?

Max scarcely believed his eyes. Was that his date from hell? He blinked and Daisy disappeared through the door, tassels of red hair streaming behind her.
Impossible
, he insisted, although he didn’t doubt for a moment that he’d just seen the woman who’d put him in this splint and given him a new scar and forced him into the cattle car of the observation deck. Of all the places she could be, of all the ships, what was Daisy doing here, on
his
?

He groaned from both the uncomfortable chaise and the unwelcome sighting; he reached into his shirt pocket to calm the small alarm clock vibrating against his chest. Freeing himself from the top portion of his sleeping bag, he plucked the foam plugs from his ears. Sounds of the morning came at him from all directions. The ship bellowed again and Max knew they would soon be leaving Prince Rupert. If he hurried, he might get into the bathroom before the throngs made their morning pilgrimage.

Three more
long
nights he’d have to sleep—or rather toss and turn—in this lounge. Three more
long
days he’d have to go without a shower. And now he’d have to contend with that demented mop-top stalking him.

Why me?
He raised his eyes toward heaven while his knee throbbed like hell.

It took two quivering hands for Daisy to unlock her cabin door. Breathing hard, she scrambled inside and immediately latched the door behind her as if she expected Max to be nipping at her heels. While her heart drummed, she tried to figure out what to do.

Four hours later, she was hungry and still no closer to a plan, but at least she’d forsaken her vigil by the door. Sensitive to every shimmy and surge of the ship, she lay on the bed, watching the passing sky through her window.

Her stomach yowled. She looked over to the bedside table at the jar of baby food she’d recently opened for Elizabeth. Beside it was a small can of minced dog food. Sitting up, she retrieved the spoon she’d used to mix the two and brought it to her mouth. Bits of Elizabeth’s breakfast remained on the stainless. She scrunched her eyes closed and swiped the spoon with her tongue.

“Uck-uck-uck-uck!” Gagging, she thrust her tongue from her mouth as she scrambled for the bathroom faucet.

“I can’t believe I did that,” Daisy said to the mirror. “Why don’t you people have room service?” Obviously, sharing Elizabeth’s food was not an option, nor was staying in her cabin. She’d have to go out. Soon. She’d simply have to keep an eye open for Max. There were over nine hundred passengers on the
Columbia
. Surely, the odds of bumping into Max
again
had to be slim, especially if she ate only in the dining room. Max Kendall was too chintzy to eat there. He was probably in the cafeteria robbing the condiment tray and making tomato soup by mixing ketchup and hot water.

She cracked a smile at her reflection. Yep, that was Max’s style, all right. If only she knew why he was here.

She pulled her brush through her hair, fluffing the curls. He wasn’t here because of her . . . was he? She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Just how spiteful was Max Kendall? Had he discovered her plans for Alaska? Had her lawyer said something to his lawyer? Too distracted by her life to deal with something so outlandish as Max Kendall’s lawsuit, she’d left everything to her attorney.

“Probably just a frivolous nuisance,” her attorney had assured her, accepting her $3,000 retainer. “I’ll be in touch.”

Now she wished she’d taken a little more time. But she never ever, ever,
ever
thought she’d see that man again. Her face scrunched as her brain scrambled. What did she really
know
about Max? Maybe he was more of a loon than anyone suspected. Maybe his mother was a loon, too. Maybe the Kendalls were a whole family of loons!

“Stop it!” She would never leave her cabin while those thoughts swam in her brain. There was undoubtedly a logical explanation for Max Kendall’s presence aboard this ship, and it had absolutely nothing to do with her!

Besides, she had an ace in the hole. Her very handsome doctor would surely come to her rescue if needed. As a matter of fact, they had a dinner date for tonight. Adam and all his officer buddies would keep Max from threatening her. It was like having her very own navy.

But just in case, she would keep her pepper spray handy.

“I’m going to breakfast, sweetie,” Daisy cooed to Elizabeth as she put her in the compact shower stall for a little safe exercise. In one corner, she placed her food. “I’ll bring you some lettuce. Yum-yum.”

But Elizabeth seemed unimpressed with the promise as she slowly ate her pureed peas and minced beef.

Daisy went for her purse, sitting atop her sweaters in her opened suitcase. Spotting the open zipper, she pulled the bag wide and gasped. Where was her wallet? She rummaged in the side pockets. And her hidden stash of extra cash? She scrambled for her second pair of shoes—gold flats—and took out the socks she’d stuffed in the toes.

Her eyes popped, her mouth gaped. “Oh my God!” she squeaked. Then, as the situation registered, she inflated with rage. “That lying, thieving, miserable rotten bastard!”

Chapter Eight

“I
’ve been robbed!”

The seasoned purser lifted her eyes from her computer screen and considered the frantic woman who’d just stormed the office. “Are you all right? Try to relax. Are you all right?”

“There’s no time for questions! He’s getting away!”

“Ma’am, we’re at sea. There’s no place for him to go. Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. Mad as hell, but fine.”

“I’m calling security.” The purser punched in numbers. After a short conversation she hung up the phone and focused on Daisy, who paced the utilitarian office, one short fuse from exploding. “Ma’am, what’s your name?”

“He broke into my cabin while I was
sleeping
! Can you believe that?”

“Maybe I should call the medical officer—”

Daisy abruptly stopped. “Yes, please.” It would be nice to have Adam’s arm to lean on when she confronted Max Kendall. “Call Dr. Bricker.”

An understated gray brow lifted slightly. “You want me to call Dr. Bricker?”

“I know it’s not really a
medical
emergency, but it is an emergency, and he does know me.” Daisy spoke as if spilling a secret. “We had dinner last night.”

“Oh,” the purser answered, as if the request now made sense.

“I’d feel much better if he were here. If he’s not, y’ know, saving someone’s life.”

“I doubt that.” The purser lifted the phone from its cradle. “And your name, ma’am?”

“Daisy Moon. Adam knows me.”

“Adam?”

“Adam Bricker,” Daisy said.

“
Adam Bricker?
” Now both her brows were raised.

“Yes,” Daisy confirmed, fearing that this polite, grandmotherly type was losing her faculties. “
Dr.
Adam Bricker.”

“Isn’t Adam Bricker the doctor from
The Love Boat
?”

Daisy reflected back on the ’80s television show she had occasionally caught in reruns during the wee hours of the morning after coming home and winding down from the restaurant. She had bought the series DVD for her mom, who loved the sitcom as much for the G rating as for the old movie stars who made guest appearances—Van Johnson was her favorite.

“Huh. No wonder the name sounded familiar,” she said, more to herself than the purser. She shook off the coincidence. “Would you please call him?
Now
?”

“What’s the extension?”

Daisy’s face contorted, her hands flailed. “How the hell should I know? Don’t you people have a phone list?”

The purser eased back. “What’s his cabin number?”

Daisy cocked her head at the daft woman. “Just call sick bay or the infirmary or whatever you boat people call it. He’s probably there.”

Easing back a little farther, the purser punched in the numbers for the medical office. “Don’t worry, ma’am, we’ll find your Dr. Bricker.”