Scent of a Woman (5 page)

Only then did Danielle remember seeing the actress’s face in a racy ad for Reckless perfume in which she bared her midriff and covered her hips with the sheerest of scarves. The image had appeared in a two-page spread of a popular fashion magazine.

A moment of fresh jealousy seized her. She hadn’t realized her feelings for Adam had such a possessive bent.

Warning bells blared in her head.

“Adam, I believe you are sincere about not having a relationship with this woman. But I would rather not date a man who is being chased by females I would be tempted to beat off with a stick. That would not be good publicity for any of us.”

His laughter was so warm—so genuine-sounding—she felt tempted to join in. What was there about laughter that could chase away bad feelings and leave such a marvelous warmth in one’s heart?

“I think you’d be able to walk around without your stick. And we’ve only got nine days left now.” He peered out the window at the town of Corfu on the island of the same name. “I really wanted to spend today with you.”

And she really didn’t want to get drawn in by a man in the same business, especially one involved with Hollywood starlets, no matter the circumstances.

“I would rather not risk a run-in on Corfu today,” Danielle admitted, reluctant to risk getting caught up in Adam’s personal life drama and lose sight of her professional goals.

If they were going to forge ahead with a week of fun together, she’d make sure she protected herself at the same time.

“We would probably avoid Jessica if we caught up with the tour sponsored by the fragrance conference,” Adam suggested. “Or we could just stay on board.” He nodded at an officer with four stripes on his crisp white uniform.

“Why don’t we take a look at the antique replicas on display in the library? I heard part of the lecture about the pieces earlier and the speaker was very enthusiastic about his collection.” That kind of date would involve less pressure than a full-blown day spent touring a romantic Greek port. Besides, she wasn’t dressed for playing tourist any longer, her high heels an impediment to traipsing around town.

Adam peered toward the library, dubious.

“Okay. But I have to tell you I’m about as well-versed in antiquities as I am in perfume.”

“Not to worry.” Danielle finished her ouzo and signed the credit slip the waitress had brought. “I want to look strictly for inspiration. Viewing any kind of art makes me feel closer to my mother.”

She walked out of the wine bar and Adam followed.

“Danielle, wait.” He caught her elbow and turned her toward him before she reached the library.

The warmth his touch inspired surprised Danielle. Even though he had women chasing after him halfway around the world, she was still disarmingly attracted to Adam Burns.

“Yes?” She hoped her answer sounded cool and controlled, because even if she still wanted him, she would never make a show of it the way his starlet did.

At least, not until she was more sure of his trustworthiness.

“I’m really sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier. That definitely wasn’t the way I wanted to greet you on our first chance for a real date.” His blue eyes were troubled. Intent.

“I do not offer trust easily, Adam, but I will trust you this once more since I have been the victim of bad timing before myself.” Awkward moments could happen to anyone, right? Still, a sliver of unease slid up her spine.

“Thank you.” He lifted her hand to his lips and planted a kiss on the back of her fingers. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

She could not deny a thrill at the feel of his lips on her skin, but she forced herself to simply smile as they continued toward the library.

Two men played chess at a wooden game board just outside the library, while inside the warm-colored woods gleamed in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Bookshelves lined the walls, and comfortable chairs invited reading. The scent of leather and paper relaxed Danielle as she entered, another testament to the power of smell. She had read all the studies that proved the scent recognition center for the human brain was situated near the one for memories. That proximity accounted for perfume’s ability to evoke strong emotional reactions, since memories were tagged with scent associations.

“Welcome.” A tall brunette with pretty blue eyes and a fashionable pair of reading glasses rose from her desk to greet them as they walked in. “The library closes at 4:00 p.m. this afternoon, but feel free to browse until then. I’m Ariana Bennett, your librarian. Just let me know if I can help you find anything.”

“Thank you.” Danielle returned the woman’s smile, noticing a dictionary of ancient Greek on Ariana’s desk. “We are just going to look at the reproductions from Father Connelly’s talk.”

“Of course.”

Was it Danielle’s imagination, or did the librarian’s smile tighten just a bit? She had heard there was some tension between the original American crew members who had remained with the ship and the staff hired by Argosy Cruises, the new owner. But then, Danielle knew both Father Connelly and Ariana were Americans. Perhaps she’d imagined the librarian’s reaction.

“There are cheat sheets,” Adam called over to her in a stage whisper from the middle of the library. He was pointing to a glass display case filled with replicas. “Bingo.”

Danielle passed a special section of science-fiction and fantasy “feature reads” to join him, her eye drawn to a half woman, half cat statue that she hadn’t seen during Father Connelly’s lecture. The animated priest from the Midwest had been affable and entertaining, but Danielle had found herself longing for a few more dates and details on the pieces. Maybe the cheat sheets would answer her questions.

“What about this one?” she asked softly, not wanting to disturb the two other library patrons who were reading in opposite corners of the room. Ariana Bennett was back at her desk, bent over her Greek dictionary and a notebook.

“Ah. Don’t you recognize—” he looked down at the notes near the silver statue “—the famous Egyptian cat goddess, Bast?”

His imitation of a stuffy professor made her laugh despite her desire to stay quiet.

“No, I did not. I guess I will leave that up to the expert in the field. What kind of goddess is Bast? Fertility?” The statue had the body of a woman and a feline face.

“Apparently its significance is disputed, but it suggests here it was a protector goddess and had the face of a large, predatory cat before history corrupted later incarnations to take on domestic cat features.”

Danielle could not deny a small sense of connection with the figure. “Life does tend to beat the fierceness out of us sometimes.”

“I don’t know about that. Maybe we just learn how to control our fierceness so we can channel it more effectively.” Adam stood near her, close enough that she could sense the warmth of his body. Their proximity called up the physical attraction that seemed to lurk close to the surface whenever he was around.

“Have you learned to channel your passions?” As soon as she asked the question she realized that it sounded suggestive. “I mean, do you think you’ve managed to harness your ambition and dreams into smart goals for the real world?”

“My dreams have been on a short leash for so long I’m not sure what they are anymore. Yeah, I guess they’re damn well harnessed.” He reached to toy with a lock of her hair that had come loose from her chignon. “What about you?”

She couldn’t feel his hand on her hair, but knowing he touched her had a powerful effect. Her breath caught in her throat.

“I find it a challenge to restrain myself sometimes.” Putting her feelings on display had cost her dearly.

“I envy you.” Releasing her hair, he turned back to the artifacts.

But Danielle was more interested in his words than the collection in the display case.

“It is not fun going through life with regrets for your mistakes.” She took after her mother in so many ways, but she’d never inherited Monique’s ability to shrug off her failures as easily as she rejoiced at her successes. After losing so much to Gunther’s betrayal, Danielle could not afford to lose her store in Nice, as well. In fact, she’d started the shop in Nice specifically to escape Paris, where Gunther lived. Nice represented many things to her heart in mind. Her freedom. Her independence. Her determination to promote Les Rêves—her dreams.

“But at least you give yourself the freedom to make mistakes.” His jaw hardened, a muscle flexing in his cheek. “I work clean-up patrol for my father the risk-taker in our business, and the job doesn’t leave any room for error. My father makes as many enemies as he does friends in his line of work and it’s not always easy smoothing over the rough edges he leaves behind.”

Adam studied a bust of Athena along with a dark vase reproduction used to reward victorious Olympic athletes.

Something bothered her about his admission. Did he think she was like his father?

“You know you do not have to play diplomat this week.” Seeing his brow furrow made her want to smooth it out with her fingertips as well as her words.

“No?”

“No,” she said firmly, wishing they could start their day over again. “Since I do not know how to monitor my words most of the time, it would be very appealing if you were to say whatever you think, too.”

She studied the Bast statue once more and took heart from seeing the warrior cat. In fact, the piece made her wonder if there was room in her Arabian Nights collection for a scent inspired by the image of female strength.

“You want the uncut, uncensored version of me?”

A thrill chased its way up her spine.

“Yes.”

“Then why don’t you consider coming somewhere a lot more private with me?”

The thrills splintered and multiplied.

“Are your uncensored words so wicked?”

“It’s not my words that I’m concerned about keeping private.” He grinned and her heart gave a little flip. “It’s my uncensored actions that might be best kept between the two of us.”

A
DAM WOULDN’T GIVE
Danielle a chance to change her mind.

Not that she’d fully agreed to his plan anyhow. But she’d left the library with him, turning on her heel and stalking toward the door after his suggestion that he wanted to touch her.

Taste her.

He followed her now, past Caesar’s Forum casino and an espresso bar toward the elevators. She made a sharp turn before she reached them, pushing through a door to an open deck facing away from Corfu. He hurried to hold the door for her, realizing she’d cleverly chosen the quiet side of the ship. Unused shuffleboard courts sat beneath rows of lifeboats. It wasn’t the most scenic of
Alexandra’s Dream
’s decks, but the element of privacy made it perfect for what he had in mind.

“I like your taste in private spaces.” Adam followed her to the end of the rail, where the polished mahogany bar met a wall with a “staff only” door.

“I feel a little guilty for keeping you on board when Greece awaits us on the other side of the ship.” She reached up to tug a pin from her hair and the silky mass tumbled about her shoulders, tossed gently by the sea breeze drifting in off the water.

“The only thing I’m interested in is still on board.” He studied her carefully, looking for cues she wanted the same things he did as she tucked the hairpin inside a tiny purse.

The strapless dress she wore clung to her curves through a miracle of nature, held together with nothing but a zipper snaking up one side. He was all too aware of how easily it could slide right off her slender body.

His fingers itched to touch the fabric to see if he was right.

“Sometimes our true interests come as a surprise to us, don’t they?” Her accent was the sexiest sound he’d ever heard.

She watched him closely, and he had the distinct impression that she’d surprised herself by agreeing to be alone with him. He would make sure she didn’t change her mind. He hadn’t expected such a sophisticated, worldly woman to be nervous.

“I can tell you where your interests lie.” He reached for her fingers where they rested on the rail. “Give me your hand.”

Her gaze narrowed but she obliged him.

“I hardly know myself most days. I do not think—”

“You would know yourself better if you’d ever had your palm read before.” He wasn’t above dusting off an old parlor trick as an excuse to touch her.

“You’re kidding.” She fisted her right hand, hiding it from him while he held it fast.

“No, I’m not kidding.” Gently, he pried her fingers open again. “I had a Czechoslovakian nanny for a few years and she taught me all about the fine art of palm reading.”

Marenka had been a grounding force in his life during the years his mother had been sick and his father had started to lose himself in his business. The time he’d spent with Marenka had been the least harried of his life. The rest had been a roller coaster.

Hell, most days he was convinced he still rode that same damn amusement park ride but without the thrill—until he met Danielle.

“Do not tell me my professional future,” Danielle warned, bending her head with his to study her palm. “I do not want you to jinx my ability to promote Les Rêves to Ahmed this week and, yes, I am a bit superstitious.”

He smoothed a finger down the center of her palm and familiarized himself with the shape of her.

“Done. Mum’s the word on your company’s future.” Not that he even remembered where the lines for financial success were located. He struggled to recall what Marenka had taught him. “This is your dominant hand, correct?” He hadn’t seen her write, but she seemed to use her right hand more than her left.

“Yes. Unless my life looks better on this hand.” She scrutinized her left palm and compared it briefly to the one he studied.

“I think we’re safe with this one.” He struggled to focus on his reading. What he really wanted to do was to place her hand on his chest and then wrap her in his arms. “You have long fingers and a cone-shaped hand which suggest you are an artist at heart.”

“Are you making that up?”

She sounded serious. Concerned.

“A lot of palm reading is in the interpretation, but according to Marenka, those are signs of creativity. She said my square palm indicated a life of hard work and less creativity.”

“But you’re independently wealthy.” Skepticism permeated her words. “Have you worked hard?”

“Up until yesterday, I worked every day including weekends for six straight weeks to maintain the business dealings I had in motion and to convince my father not to purchase a radio station one week and a newspaper chain the next. Believe me, the palm reading was true for me.”

“I only questioned you because my mother was an artist and following in her footsteps has always been a dream of mine.”

He filed that bit of information away.

“But your creativity might be channeled into your current business. You seem to love perfume making.”

Nodding, she peered back down at their joined hands.

“What else does it say?”

“There is a separation between your heart line and your head line, which indicates you are not as impulsive as you believe yourself to be.” He traced those distinct lines, feeling her pulse throbbing gently beneath her soft skin.

“I will have to tell my brother—Marcel—that he has been wrong about me all these years.” She lifted her head to smile up at him, so close he could have kissed her.

And he wanted to kiss her.

They stood silently for a long moment, each taking the other’s measure in the warm afternoon sunlight.

“How does my love life look to you?” Her voice was a breathy whisper that teased his senses.

“I happen to know it’s getting better by the second,” he confided, his thumb tracing a circle around the center of her palm.

Her eyelids fluttered in response and he closed the space between them to capture her lush mouth. Her lips parted with speed quickness and he deepened the kiss.

She shivered lightly against him and he tugged her hand free to place her palm on his chest before he folded her in his arms. Her head tipped back in silent surrender, and hot sensation flooded through him as her body pressed against his.

He’d dreamed of this the night before, imagining exactly what she’d feel like if he ever had the chance to hold her. The reality was even better than those heated imaginings, her sweet sighs an enticing sound that worked some kind of dark, sensual magic on him. The need to steal her away some place remote was too strong to ignore. He wanted to lay her down. To cover her body with his….

“Danielle.” He pulled back sharply while he still could. “Let me walk you back to your room.”

“I—” She shook her head, her expression confused. Wary. “I can’t think. I don’t know.”

Her refusal was logical. Sensible. And…ah hell, he needed to have some space between them before he forgot everything else but kissing her again.

“I have meetings tomorrow, but why don’t we go ashore in Naples together the next day? We can hire a boat to take us out to Capri.” He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight if he didn’t know he could spend time with her again. “I’ll meet you at your stateroom at noon. Okay?”

He held his breath, unable to breathe in the same air as her without wanting to keep kissing her.

“Oui.”
She nodded, her violet eyes a narrow rim around dilated pupils. “Until then.”

She refused his offer to walk her back to her room, which was probably wise considering how much he wanted to cross that threshold when they got there. He let her go, hoping she would trust him a little more each day, because he didn’t know how he would hold himself back the next time he kissed her that way. He’d dated enough women to know that chemistry like theirs didn’t come along often. And since tomorrow would be the third day of the cruise, they only had so much time left to explore the heat that simmered between them.

T
HE SHIP’S
newest destination tempted her.

The Maltese Islands beckoned to her every time she looked out over the ship’s rail, but Danielle attended the fragrance exhibition and two meetings the next morning in the hope of running into the Dubai-based retailer again. She preferred socializing outside their formally scheduled meetings wherever possible. Adam was working today, too, and the knowledge spurred her to be all the more industrious about pursuing business over pleasure.

Still, there had been no sign of Ahmed Ramnathan, the quiet and studious-looking businessman who’d been so receptive of her pitch for Les Rêves’s new Arabian Nights line. A Parisian perfumer told Danielle he thought Ahmed had attended a conference-sponsored tour of Valletta to see St. John’s Co-Cathedral. It boasted an extensive collection of Flemish tapestries and—if Danielle’s memory served—a Caravaggio that her mother had seen once. Danielle wished now she had taken the tour.

Leaving the last of her meetings behind, she took a set of stairs to deck ten in an effort to burn off a few extra calories from the fantastic food served on the ship. Apparently the head chef was new to
Alexandra’s Dream
, but Danielle had read about his culinary exploits before, since he used to have a successful restaurant just down the French coast from her. Everything about the cruise seemed decadent and delightful, although she had noticed the bath products in her stateroom weren’t top of the line. She’d made a mental note to seek out the cruise line’s purchasing agent when she returned home to see if she could work up a deal to have some of Les Rêves’s new soaps and lotions on board instead.

She had almost reached her destination when she spotted a familiar figure on his way down the stairs.

“Father Connelly?” She paused to address the priest who’d given the lecture on classical antiquities.

“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.” The priest, a gray-haired, robust-looking man in his fifties, extended his hand.

His companion, an officer with two and a half stripes, nodded briefly to her before continuing down the stairs.

“I’m Danielle Chevalier, Father.” She shook his hand and found herself tugged into the corner of the staircase landing. “I attended your cocktail party and part of your lecture yesterday.”

“Ah, yes!” He snapped his fingers in recognition. “You stood in the back while I was speaking.”

An older woman descended past them and Father Connelly winked at her, eliciting a blush. Apparently the priestly calling hadn’t dimmed his love of flirting.

“I wanted to ask you about the Bast statue in the ship’s collection.” She was already designing perfume bottles and potential scent combinations inspired by the piece.

“You plan to test the poor clergyman when his notes are nowhere in sight?” he teased, patting his pockets as if searching for a lost notebook. “You are a cruel woman, Ms. Chevalier.”

“I don’t need to know anything specific,” she assured him. “But I am curious about the goddess in general and I thought you might be able to tell me more than what you included in the lecture.”

Perhaps she’d been attracted to Bast because of the lack of warrior-like qualities in herself. The longer she thought about Marcel’s phone call and his insistence she stay away from Adam, the more certain she became that she had not fought hard enough for independence and respect from her family.

What woman couldn’t use a little warrior spirit in her life?

“Bless you for taking it easy on me.” He smiled. “Bast, or Bastet, is the daughter of the Egyptian sun god Re. And, like most ancient deity figures, the more you read about her, the more conflicting the information. But she is supposed to be the embodiment of the rage in Re’s eye, and she is a goddess of both household protection and vengeance. Her domain is as far-reaching as the stories about her powers and her importance.”

He went on to describe mummified cats found throughout the same region as the statue, and shared a few other facts that weren’t relevant to her plans for a new perfume inspired by the figure. When he seemed to have exhausted his knowledge on the subject, she shook his hand and left to find her stateroom.

There would be gardens to visit in Capri tomorrow, and she wanted to be sure her nose was ready to seek out the raw fragrances she needed to mix a perfume that would inspire a woman’s strength as well as her femininity. She could hardly wait to get to work.

If only finding her own strength were as simple as developing a new scent.

“W
HAT THE HELL
do you think you’re doing?” Giorgio Tzekas, the ship’s first officer, was pissed off at him again.

Mike O’Connor, who went by Father Patrick Connelly on the ship, was beginning to think his sideline as Giorgio’s therapist would overshadow their real mission on board
Alexandra’s Dream
. The guy was seriously unstable.

“What?” Mike feigned cluelessness. The two men were in Giorgio’s stateroom. “I can’t have a conversation with a beautiful woman? Ms. Chevalier is worth any man’s time.”

Giorgio paced his way over to the peephole and peered out into the ship’s corridor. “Will you keep your voice down? And you know damn good and well that I mean what the hell are you doing mixing genuine artifacts from my expeditions with the reproductions displayed in the library?”

Mike knew that bit of cleverness wouldn’t go overlooked for long. Too bad Giorgio didn’t have a creative mind when it came to perfecting the art of the scam. But then, that’s the way it was with people who kept one foot in the law-abiding world and one foot on the dark side. They were constantly worried their worlds would collide.

Smooth, eloquent lies. That’s what was needed in their current scheme to smuggle priceless artifacts from the Mediterranean into the United States after the ship’s reposition cruise.

The boss demanded perfection and Mike enjoyed that challenge. He admired the way the operation was being run so far, even if he’d never met the boss other than a few furtive phone calls to exchange information. Mike couldn’t wait to see how the artifacts were going to be smuggled off the ship. For now, he didn’t think that would be his department. It was tough enough getting things on board.