High Stakes Seduction - Book 2 (4 page)

Antonio was gracious and patient with them. He ooohed over their pictures and congratulated them on their success. He suggested a tour they might like. I felt a little embarrassed about my own impatience.

I watched the three of them. Antonio so vibrant and alive, so sure of himself, the older couple so sweet and faded. I wondered if there was anything this man had struggled for in his life, and what he might be like in forty years as he approached his own twilight.

"Well, the night is still young, and this is our first evening at sea," Antonio said as we made our exit from the dining room. "I don't suppose you're ready for bed?"

I almost choked. "No, not yet."

"How about a nightcap before we head back?" he suggested.

Thank goodness
, I sighed with relief, glad to put off the inevitable. "Sounds lovely."

We ducked into one of the nightclubs. The band was a retro 80s tribute band, more on the ballad side than on the disco side. I was just as glad, since disco had never really held much interest for me.

We sat at the bar, Antonio ordering a crisp Sauvignon Blanc for me and a Jack Daniels neat for himself. I wondered how I would respond if he asked me to dance. How would it feel to be back in his arms?

I shivered, remembering the garden room at the country club, the heat rising in my cheeks. Maybe this time I wouldn't insist he stop. But. We were in a public bar. With lots of people around. My imagination was definitely getting the best of me.

"Are you ready?"

"I'm sorry, what?" I asked, my heart already racing at his words.

"Are you ready?" he repeated, his eyes burning into mine. "To go."

I couldn't breathe and my hands trembled just a bit. This was the moment I'd been dreading, although my body seemed to disagree. My insides were stirring, my nipples growing tight, and I felt myself wiggling in my seat.

"Yes," I answered, trying to pull myself together.

He took my arm and steered me through the crowd, out of the room and onto the elevator. As I stood next to him in the intimate, glass-enclosed space, watching the people below grow smaller and smaller, I did my best to slow my breathing and relax my racing pulse. Surely he could hear how loud my heart was beating. Or at least, feel it pounding where he held onto my wrist.

We walked to the room in silence. He slipped the key into the lock and turned towards me. That focused, determined look was back. Then he swore under his breath as his cell phone began to vibrate in his pocket.

Opening the door, he pulled out the phone, glancing at the number before he put it to his ear. "Hey, Jorge. I see you got my message. Thanks for getting back to me."

I stepped into the room as he continued his conversation in the hallway. I debated whether I should wait for him, or go on into the living room.
Business as usual?
  Did this man ever take any time off?

"Sorry," he said, sticking his head into the room. "Something's come up. Don't wait up for me. I'll see you in the morning. We'll have breakfast." And he was gone. Again.

Chapter Nine

The next morning I wandered the decks again. It had been well after midnight when I heard the key in the door lock. Antonio had done his best not to awaken me, and I hadn't let on that I'd been laying there in bed wondering when he'd get back. Or that I'd turned over at the sound of his key, finally drifting off to sleep.

That morning we'd made a quick stop in the food court area, grabbing fruit juice and coffee and an English muffin. It seemed neither of us was particularly interested in breakfast.

Then, he'd gone off for a meeting, telling me to just relax and get my "sea legs", there would be plenty of time for business later.

I found myself wandering and people watching—one of my favorite pastimes, really. I'd managed to get some interesting photographs, just as the couple yesterday had suggested.

"Releasing the Artist Within," read a sign in the front of a conference room. "Thomas Markus—Author, Illustrator, Poet. NYC Bestseller. Today at 11 a.m."

Now that sounds like fun
. I looked at my cellphone. 10:53 a.m. Perfect! I kept thinking about Maria. At home without me. I wish she'd pick up her brushes again. She was such a lovely painter. Maybe Mr. Markus could give me some ideas.

***

"Our artist is actually our child within, our inner playmate. As with all playmates, it is joy, not duty, that makes for a lasting bond." I kept remembering the Julia Cameron quote. During his lecture, Thomas Markus had talked about Julia Cameron and Betty Edwards almost as much as he had his own work.

"I'm delighted to sign this book for your sister," he smiled and flourished his pen. "Just remind her that any art must be practiced. And encourage her to go back to her painting. Even if she thinks it isn't very good, it will still be good practice."

Well, that was something I could do for her. I hugged the book to my chest. It had been so long since I'd seen joy on her face. Maybe the book would help.

***

After a quick lunch, I changed clothes, slipping into my bathing suit and a simple cover-up, heading out towards the pool. Being at sea hadn't seemed much different than being on land to me, except the view was different, of course, and I felt like I was at some super-exclusive resort. I knew there was a lot more than I'd be able to see on my own.

I slathered on the sunscreen. Some people didn't seem to need it, but with my coloration, I was better safe than sorry. I found a semi-secluded spot that was warm and lovely, and I simply couldn't help myself. I drifted off into a short nap.

My eyes fluttered open at the sound of approaching voices. The music in their laughter identified them as the romantic couple from yesterday.

"Oh Charles!" the woman laughed. "How do you come up with these ideas?"

"Ah, my sweet, you know you're my inspiration."

She laughed again, leaning her head against his shoulder and smiling contentedly.

"Well, look here!" Charles smiled at me. "It's our friend from yesterday."

"Good afternoon." I hoped I didn't look as though I'd been sleeping.

"Did you get any sunrise shots?" asked the woman.

"No, that's too early for me," I laughed. "I'm Angela, by the way."

"Charles, here." The man held out his hand. "And this lovely lady is Samantha, my bride."

I couldn't miss the warm glance that passed between them. They may have made this trip many times, but it was obvious they were just as in love as when they'd first taken it.

We chatted a few minutes longer, gossiping about the amenities onboard the ship.

"Maybe we'll get to sit together for dinner soon," said Samantha. "But right now it's time for our 'nap'."

Nap?

"Wouldn't
dream
of missing our
nap
," Charles laughed. The look they shared as they walked off, wrapped in each others' arms, told me they weren't likely to be doing much sleeping.

I sighed.
Some folks
, I thought wistfully.

Chapter Ten

Dinner that night wasn't much different from the previous night. Except this time the couple at the next table provided most of the entertainment.

The dinner had started off pleasantly enough, and the people at our table were chattering amicably. At least I hadn’t noticed anything amiss.

"Just what are you accusing me of, Henry?" Came the woman's voice from the next table. Involuntarily, I turned my gaze towards the exclamation.

"Sylvia, keep your voice down. Please."

"I will not! You're the one who brought this up. Why are you always trying to make trouble?"

The couple appeared to be somewhere around Antonio's age, although the man could have been a bit older. The woman was a stunning blond, with exquisite features and exquisite jewelry.

The man was equally distinguished, with dark hair and just the beginning of silver in his sideburns. He leaned closer towards the woman, whispering something urgently.

"Oh don't be silly! Why do you always do this to me?"

His eyes narrowed and he leaned in further, his face tight, as though he was clenching his jaws he spoke to her.

"That's it, Henry!" She threw down her napkin, knocking over the wine glass as she rose from the table. "Enough already." And stormed out.

Henry stood up and went after her. When they were near the door, he grabbed her arm and swung her around. She reached up and slapped his face. His head reared back and his hand went to where the slap had hit him. She slipped through the door quickly and was gone.

He stood there for a moment, pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his cheek, then went after her.

I turned back to Antonio, noticing he had also been watching the couple intently. He raised his eyebrows in a kind of visual shrug and reached for the wine bottle, refilling my glass.

"Goodness," said the matronly woman across from me. "I wonder what
that
was about?"

"It's none of our business, Gertrude," her husband murmured.

"Ah, but I do like getting in on juicy gossip."

"I know," sighed her husband "I know."

"Well my goodness, honey, after all these years you better," she laughed with delight.

I looked over at Antonio, deciding it best to simply keep my mouth shut.

***

After dinner, Antonio excused himself again, sending me back to the room by myself.

I changed into something more casual, and spent the evening sitting in a large, comfortable, overstuffed chair in the lobby, reading through the book I'd picked up for Maria. Thomas Markus was a pretty good writer, and his suggestions for composition gave me some new ideas for my photography.

"Enjoying the book?"

I looked up to see the author standing over me, drink in hand.

"Oh. It's good. I like your explanation of how to frame your subject." He looked pleased. "And I picked up a couple of tips for my own photography."

"You're a creative, too? Your sister paints and you photograph. It often runs in families. But what's going on here? You are far too lovely to be sitting by yourself this time of the evening."

I shrugged.

He shook his head. "Well, let's change that right now. Will you join me for a glass of wine?"

I thought briefly about Antonio. Would it be disloyal if I joined the author?
No
. Antonio was off enjoying himself, and he'd insisted he wanted me to enjoy myself, too.

"Mr. Markus, I would be delighted to join you for a drink." I stood up, smoothing my slacks and slipping my sandals back on.

He laughed. "Then, you must call me Tom." He gave a small bow.

"And you must call me Angela."

We stepped up to the lobby bar, sitting on the tall stools.

"Pinot Grigio" I told the bartender, and turned back to talk with my new friend.

"What made you decide to write a book?" I asked.

"I've been a teacher almost as long as I've been a painter," he stared out over the lobby. "It was a logical extension of what I was already doing. But how about you, tell me about your photography. People or landscapes?"

"A little of both. I like capturing memories for people—parties, weddings, birthdays. But my sister always wants landscapes."

"Is that what she paints?"

"Mostly. She had planned to study in Paris. But that was before…" I paused.

"Paris is a wonderful city for artists, as well as lovers. It's a great walking city. So diverse. So much atmosphere. And the light is extraordinary. She should go."

I looked down at my wine. "Maybe someday."

"The sooner the better, I always say. If she has an interest, then she should figure out how to go. Now. Not 'someday'."

"It's not really that easy," I looked away. "She was in an accident and is confined to a wheelchair."

"I'm truly sorry. But she can't let that stop her. A disability doesn't mean you stop living."

I looked back at him. He was right. And that was pretty much how Maria felt, too, even if she was still hesitant to leave the house much. I smiled. In that moment I knew for certain she would enjoy his book.

***

That night, laying in my bed, waiting to hear Antonio's key in the door, I thought about what my life had become. Working for Antonio had eased the financial struggle some. And for that I was grateful. Even if being in his presence caused me no end of internal confusion.

Thomas Markus was right, though. Regardless of the circumstances, life was meant to be lived. Not put on hold because of current conditions or past experiences. As I drifted off to sleep, I vowed to make sure Maria wasn't housebound any longer. It was time both of us started living our lives fully.