The Novels of Nora Roberts Volume 1 Read online

  Max steepled his hands, tapped his fingers against his chin. “You’re quite right, Roxanne. Once an emotional attachment’s made, the fun goes out of it.” He scanned the room, gauging faces. “Are we agreed then? No marks this week?”

  He got a nod from everyone but LeClerc, who only ground his teeth.

  “Cheer up.” Luke picked up Max’s remaining mineral water and toasted. “We’ve got the best part of six weeks. Someone’s bound to come on board we don’t like.”

  “Then we’re adjourned.”

  “Have you got a minute?” Luke asked Max as everyone made to leave.

  “Of course.”

  Luke waited until they were alone, but still took the precaution of keeping his voice low. “Why the hell are you doing this to Lily?”

  Max’s mouth fell open. “I beg your pardon?”

  “Damn it, Max, you’re breaking her heart.”

  “That’s absurd.” Highly insulted, Max rose from the chair to pick up his book. “Where did you get such a ridiculous notion?”

  “From Lily.” Too angry for respect, Luke snatched the book away and tossed it onto the bed. “She came to see me the day before we left for New York. Damn you, you made her cry.”

  “I? I?” Shaken by the thought, Max sat again. “How?”

  “Neglect,” Luke tossed out. “Disinterest. You’re so fucking obsessed with some magical stone, you can’t see what’s happening in front of your face. She doesn’t think you love her anymore. And after seeing the way you behaved toward her over these last couple of days, I understand just how she got the idea in her head.”

  Very pale, very still, Max stared at Luke. “That is a completely asinine notion. She has no reason to doubt my feelings.”

  “Really?” Luke sat on the edge of the bed, leaned forward. “When’s the last time you bothered to tell her what they are? Have you sat in the moonlight with her and listened to the sea? You know how much she counts on the little things, but have you stirred yourself to give any of them to her? Have you used this bed for anything but sleeping?”

  “You go too far.” Max stiffened like a poker. “Much too far.”

  “The hell I do. I’m not going to stand by and see that hurt look in her eyes. She’d crawl over glass for you, and you can’t even bother to give her ten minutes of your valuable time.”

  “You’re wrong.” Max stared down at his clenched fist. “And if Lily feels as you say, she’s quite mistaken. I love her. I’ve always loved her.”

  “Could have fooled me. You didn’t even look at her when she walked in here.”

  “That was business,” he began, then cut himself off. He’d always prided himself on honesty, in his own way. “Perhaps I’ve been a bit distracted lately, and more than a little self-involved.” He lifted his gaze from his aching hands. “I would never hurt her. I’d cut out my own heart before I’d hurt her.”

  “Tell her.” Luke turned for the door. “Not me.”

  “Wait.” Max pressed his fingers to his eyes. If he’d made a mistake, he’d do whatever was necessary to correct it. The faintest smile touched his lips. And he’d correct it in style.

  “I need a favor.”

  The fact that Luke hesitated showed Max just how deep the temper went. And how deep his own sins. “What?”

  “First, I’d like to keep this conversation between us. Second, after the last performance tonight, I’d appreciate it if you’d detain Lily, keep her away from the cabin for about thirty minutes. Then I’ll need you to be certain she comes directly here.”

  “All right.”

  “Luke?”

  He had his hand on the door, but paused and glanced back. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you. Now and again a man needs someone to make him face his shortcomings, and his blessings. You’ve done both.”

  “Just make it up to her.”

  “Oh, I will.” Max smiled then, fully. “That, at the very least, I can promise.”

  “We done good.” Roxanne dropped heavily into a chair in the corner of the disco. The second performance of the evening had gone as successfully as the first.

  “We knocked them dead.” Luke sat down, stretched out his legs. “Of course, with a crowd this age, that’s not too hard.”

  Roxanne snickered. “Don’t be gruesome. Be useful and go get me and Lily drinks.”

  “Oh, I think I should skip it.” Lily looked around the hotly lit room for a glimpse of Max. “You young people should enjoy yourselves.”

  “No way.” Luke grabbed her hand. “You’re not ducking out on me without a dance.” He pulled her laughing out on the floor where Michael Jackson was telling everyone to beat it.

  “That your competition?” Dori plopped down on Luke’s vacated chair.

  “She’s a tough act to follow.”

  “She’s pretty great,” Dori agreed and snagged a waitress’s attention. “I mean besides being a real sweetheart, just look at that body. Want a drink?”

  “Glass of white wine,” Roxanne decided. “A pink lady for Lily and a Beck’s for Luke.”

  “Make it two Becks’,” Dori said, then leaned over the table again. The music was loud, but not oppressive. There were a smattering of passengers on the dance floor gyrating to Jackson’s driving rhythm.

  When their drinks were served, she said, “First round’s on me. I really like working cruise ships. Most people come on with a mind set to have fun. Makes it easier. And you get to meet so many different types. Speaking of which.” She took a deep sip of beer. “What’s the story on him?”

  Roxanne glanced over to where Luke was twirling Lily under his arm. “Story?”

  “I mean, he’s gorgeous, dynamic, single. Straight, right?”

  Roxanne chuckled. “Definitely heterosexual.”

  “So how come you haven’t jumped on it?”

  Roxanne choked on her wine. “Jumped? Jumped on it?”

  “Roxanne, he’s a mouth waterer.” To prove her point, Dori traced her tongue around her lips. “I’d take the leap myself except I don’t like to swim in someone else’s pool.”

  After a deep breath, Roxanne shook her head. “You lost me, Dori.”

  “The two of you. It’s so obvious.”

  “Oh? What’s obvious?”

  “There’s enough sexual friction between you to set the ship on fire.”

  Since the color was fluctuating in her cheeks, Roxanne hoped it could be blamed on the flashing lights of the disco. “You’re reading it wrong.”

  “Oh yeah?” Dori looked back at Luke, drank, then swiveled back to Roxanne. “Are you saying you don’t want him?”

  “No. I mean, yes. I mean . . .” She wasn’t used to being flustered. “What I mean is things aren’t that way with us.”

  “Because you don’t want them to be?”

  “Because . . . because they aren’t.”

  “Uh-huh. Well, I don’t like to poke my nose in.”

  Roxanne had to laugh. “Oh, I could see that right off.”

  “Anyway.” Dori grinned engagingly. “If I were to poke it in, I’d offer this simple, time-honored advice. Intrigue, confuse, seduce. And if that doesn’t work, jump his bones. Got to go.”

  “Yeah. See you.” Roxanne stared into her wine, drawing lines down the outside of the glass with her fingers. Her thoughts were such that she jolted when Luke and Lily sat down again.

  “Oh, that was fun.” Nearly out of breath, Lily reached for her drink.

  “Finish that off, and we’ll do it again.”

  “Not on your life.” She waved a hand. “Go do it with Roxy.”

  Roxanne choked again and blushed scarlet.

  “Take it easy.” Luke thumped her on the back. “Want to dance, Rox?”

  “No. Ah, maybe later.” Her whole body was tingling. Her heart picked up the rhythm of the bass and thudded against her ribs. Sexual friction? Was that what this was? If so, it was deadly. She sipped again, more cautiously. Intrigue. All right, she’d give it a shot. “I liked watchin
g the two of you out there.” She touched a hand lightly to the back of Luke’s. “You’ve got some good moves, Callahan.”

  He stared at her. What was that gleam in her eye? In another woman, he would have taken it as an invitation. In Roxanne, he wondered where she’d bite or scratch first. “Thanks.” He picked up his beer and casually checked his watch.

  “Got a late date?” Roxanne purred.

  “What? No.”

  Now, wasn’t this interesting? Lily mused. A little cat and mouse, with Roxanne in the role of cat. “You two should take a nice stroll out on deck. It’s gorgeous tonight.”

  “Good idea. Why don’t we all do that?” Luke grabbed Lily’s hand and watched Roxanne warily. He had ten more minutes to detain Lily, then he thought it might be wise to run for his life.

  “No, no, I’m a little tired.” Lily feigned a huge yawn. “I’ll just go down and turn in.”

  “You haven’t finished your drink.” Luke sat again, kept his hand firmly on Lily’s. “And I’ve been meaning to ask you . . .” What? What? “Ah, if you think it’s going to rain tomorrow in Sydney?”

  “Australia?” Lily said, big-eyed.

  “No, Nova Scotia. We’re docking there in the morning. I’ve, ah, got a couple hours off, and thought I’d go into town and look around.”

  Why, he’s nervous, Roxanne realized, and found it oddly endearing. And exciting. “So do I,” she murmured. “Want company?”

  “Well . . .”

  “I really am tired.” Lily yawned again and shook her hand free of Luke’s. “Enjoy yourselves.”

  Shit, Luke thought. He had to hope it was close enough. “I’m a little tired myself.” Luke stood as Lily walked off. And made a small, gagging sound when Roxanne rose as well, her body bumping against his.

  “A walk on deck would help you sleep better.” She tilted her head back so that they were eye to eye and nearly mouth to mouth. He could feel his lips tingle.

  “Nope.” He thought of all the things he’d like to do with her, to her, in the salt-sprayed moonlight. “I can guarantee it wouldn’t. You should turn in, too.”

  “I don’t think so.” She trailed a finger down his arm. “I imagine there’s someone around who’d like to dance, or walk.” She brushed her lips lightly over his. “Good night, Callahan.”

  “Yeah.” He watched her stroll away, then lean over a table where a few of the entertainers were having drinks. He doubted he’d sleep a wink.

  Lily unlocked the door of her cabin, smiling at the image of Roxanne and Luke walking hand in hand in the moonlight. She’d waited a long time to see her two children find each other. Maybe tonight, she thought, and opened the door to music, candlelight and roses.

  “Oh.” She stood there, silhouetted by the backlight from the passageway. Max stepped away from the table where a bottle of champagne was open and waiting. He crossed to her, offering a single pink rose.

  He said nothing, only took her hand and brought it to his lips as he eased the door shut behind her. Locked it.

  “Oh, Max.”

  “I hope it’s not too late for a small bon voyage celebration.”

  “No.” She pressed her lips together to hold back tears. “It’s not too late. It’s never too late.”

  Cupping her face in his hand, he tilted her head back. “My heart,” he murmured. His lips were soft and strong against hers. Then the kiss deepened, lengthened as their tongues met in a slow, familiar dance.

  When he drew her back, the old twinkle she adored was in his eyes. “Perhaps I could ask one small favor.”

  “You know you can.”

  “That crimson negligee you packed? Would you put it on while I pour the wine?”

  18

  He’d finally figured it out. It took Luke a couple of days, and an equal amount of uncomfortably restless nights, but he finally got a handle on it.

  She was trying to drive him crazy.

  It was the only reasonable explanation for Roxanne’s behavior. It wasn’t that she smiled at him so often. It was the way she smiled. With that oddly female light in her eyes that was invitation, challenge and amusement melded together. He couldn’t even blame the fact that she’d cornered him into one of the ballroom dancing demonstrations—under the guise of staff participation—so that he’d had to hold her in his arms, breathing in the scent of her hair while her hips twitched in a rumba under his hand.

  It wasn’t possible to point to the fact that she’d run into him that afternoon in Quebec City after completing her role as interpreter on one of the shore excursions—or that she’d made him enjoy being hauled from shop to shop buying gifts and souvenirs, eating ice cream and weaving through crowds of tourists on the long narrow streets to listen to a musician play the concertina.

  To be fair, he couldn’t blame the fact that she made certain a day didn’t pass without giving him one of those light, butterfly kisses that stirred the juices the way a crust of bread would heighten the hunger of a starving man.

  No, he couldn’t blame any one of those things—until he put them all together with the less tangible but equally effective vibrations she seemed to emit whenever he was within five feet of her.

  He grumbled to himself all the way up the outside stairway from the Lido Deck to Promenade, from Promenade to Royal. He wasn’t some freaking messenger boy, and he’d nearly told Jack as much. But it would have been hard to explain why he objected so strenuously to asking Roxanne if she’d help greet passengers in the reception line for the captain’s farewell party.

  They were still docked in Quebec City. From the high rail he could see the pretty hills, the steep streets, the elegance of the towering Chateau Frontenac. It had been fun to wander through the old town with her, hearing her laugh, watching her eyes light up.

  He didn’t know how he was going to get through the next five weeks being so goddamn brotherly.

  He turned. Most of the deck chairs were empty. Because they wouldn’t sail until seven that evening, many of the passengers would stay ashore until deadline. Those who preferred relaxing on board were two decks below, indulging in the delicate pastries being served at tea.

  But Roxanne was here, stretched out on a deck chair, mirrored sunglasses shading her eyes, a book in her hands, and an unbearably tiny bikini covering no more than was required by law.

  Luke swore viciously under his breath before crossing to her.

  She knew he was there, had known from the moment he reached the top of the stairs and turned toward the rail. She’d been staring at the same page in her novel for five full minutes, and was grateful for the time to whip her heart rate under control.

  Leisurely she turned the page then reached out for the lukewarm soft drink on the table beside her.

  “You like to live dangerously.”

  She glanced up, arched a brow, then tipped her glasses down just far enough to look over the tops. “Do I?”

  “A redhead sitting in the sun’s just asking to burn.” In truth her skin had neither burned nor tanned. It had simply bloomed, gorgeously, like a ripening peach.

  “I don’t stay out long.” She smiled and pushed her glasses back into place. A healthy ripple of lust swam through her. “And I’m just slathered all over with lotion.” Very slowly, she skimmed a fingertip up a glistening thigh. “Did you give Lily the lace fan you bought her?”

  “Yeah.” To make certain they behaved, Luke tucked his itchy hands in his pockets. “You were right. She was crazy about it.”

  “See? You only have to trust me.”

  She shifted, only a little, but he was aware of every muscle, every detail. The tiny hoops in her ears, the glint of the delicate gold chain with its slim amethyst crystal around her neck, the way her hair curled riotously where she tied it on top of her head, the erotic scent of the lotion she’d slicked over her skin.

  Murder was too good for her.

  “Jack wanted to know if you could do the reception line tonight. One of the girls is fighting off a virus.”

&
nbsp; “Oh, I think I could manage that.” She slid her foot up the chair and lazily scratched her knee. “Want a sip?” She offered the watered-down Coke. “You look hot.”

  “I’m fine.” Or he would be once he managed to move the feet that seemed nailed to the deck by her chair. “Shouldn’t you go in and get ready?”

  “I’ve got plenty of time. Do me a favor?” She stretched once, catlike, before she picked up the bottle of lotion and tossed it to him. “Do my back, okay?”

  “Your back?”

  “Um-hmm.” Shifting again, she lowered the back of the chair, rolled over and snuggled down. “I can’t reach it.”

  He was surprised the lotion didn’t geyser out the top as he squeezed the bottle so tightly. “Your back looks fine.”

  “Be a pal.” After pillowing her head on her hands, she sighed like a woman relaxed. But behind the mirrored lenses her eyes were open and watchful. “It wouldn’t do for me to ask one of the deckhands.”

  That did it. Setting his teeth, he crouched down and squeezed lotion on her shoulder blades. She sighed again, her lips curving.

  “Feels good,” she murmured. “Warm.”

  “Having the bottle in the sun could account for it.” He began to spread the lotion with his fingertips, objectively, he thought. After all, it was only a back. Skin and bone. Soft, satiny skin. Long, delicate bones. She moved sinuously under his hands, and he bit back a moan.

  Her toes were curling. His hands were magic on her slippery skin, conjuring up images, lighting fires, fogging the brain. Still, Luke wasn’t the only one who knew about image and control. Her voice might have been husky when she spoke, but Roxanne thought that could be attributed to a state of relaxation as easily as arousal.

  “You have to unhook the top.”

  The hands circling her back paused. Her glasses tossed back the reflection of his stunned face. “Excuse me?”