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The Way He Moves
Marcia King-Gamble
Mills & Boon M&B
Serena D'Andrea doesn't believe everything she sees.As the only heir of an affluent Argentinian publishing family, she's been finding it increasingly difficult to trust that the men she meets can see past her wealth. But on a Rhythm Dancers Cruise aboard Alexandra's Dream, Serena's attention quickly turns from rumbas to romance when she finds a pendant that's said to bring whoever wears it luck in love.From the moment she puts it on, though, she's beset by a rush of mishaps that make her wonder if someone may be watching–and following–every move she makes. . . on and off the dance floor. Luckily, Gilles Anderson always seems to be around to come to her rescue. But the fact that he looks exactly like a man from her past–a man she once thought she could love–has Serena watching every move he makes.


WHERE DREAMS COME TRUE
The Daily Cruise Letter/The Daily Cruise News
Rumba, salsa, cha-cha-cha!
They’re here! The Rhythm Dancers have joined our special dance-themed cruise and are shaking up Alexandra’s Dream from stem to stern. More than five hundred dancers are on board, hoping to improve their moves with some of the most talented dance instructors in the field today.
For those passengers who aren’t part of the dance group, the themed cruise still has lots to offer. Check the newsletter daily to find out times and places for dance demonstrations and competitions. Ball gowns and tuxes are the order of the day, so be prepared for a whirling kaleidoscope of color and style that will rival a Vegas show.
Is the Latin beat too hot for your blood? A sedate waltz more your style than a sultry tango? Then come up to the Polaris Lounge and dance to the gentler tunes of Glenn Miller. Don’t have a partner? Our gentleman hosts are there to glide you across the dance floor.
The only rule is to have fun! The staff of Alexandra’s Dream offers you glamour and adventure as we sail the waters of the Caribbean. We want this cruise to be one you’ll never forget.

MARCIA KING-GAMBLE
is a Caribbean-American novelist who makes two coasts home. A former travel industry executive, Marcia has seen most of the world. The Far East, Venice and New Zealand are three of her favorites.
When not writing or traveling, this bestselling author works off excess energy taking Zumba and kickboxing classes. She indulges her passion for anything old by rummaging through estate sales and antique stores.
Marcia writes for several Harlequin imprints. She loves hearing from readers.

Mediterranean NIGHTS


Marcia King-Gamble
THE WAY HE MOVES


TORONTO • NEW YORK • LONDON
AMSTERDAM • PARIS • SYDNEY • HAMBURG
STOCKHOLM • ATHENS • TOKYO • MILAN • MADRID
PRAGUE • WARSAW • BUDAPEST • AUCKLAND
Dear Reader,
According to marketing research, less than 10 percent of the American population has actually taken a cruise. This is especially perplexing given cruising is one of the least expensive vacations there is.
There is no other vacation experience as stress free as cruising. You board a ship, unpack your bags and get waited on hand and foot. As an added bonus, you get to visit the countries of your choice, plus enjoy exotic cuisine and world-class entertainment. No getting on and off planes and moving from hotel to hotel. Where else can you have lodging, food and entertainment inclusive in the original price? Am I starting to sound like an infomercial yet?
For almost thirteen years I worked in the cruise industry in an executive capacity. Ships were my life. Anything can happen on a floating city, especially when you have thousands of passengers on board. Believe me, there are literally thousands of stories to tell.
That said, I hope your journey was an informative one. Perhaps you’ve learned a little about cruising and become interested in visiting a new country. Perhaps your interest in cruising has just been piqued.
If you have questions about cruising, general comments, or just want to say hi, shoot an e-mail my way at mkinggambl@aol.com. Snail mail correspondence should be sent to P.O. Box 25143, Fort Lauderdale, FL 33320.
Happy cruising!
Romantically yours,
Marcia King-Gamble
www.lovemarcia.com
With grateful thanks to Gordon Buck
for sharing his operational knowledge. Without his
expertise this book would not have been possible.

DON’T MISS THE STORIES OF
Mediterranean NIGHTS

FROM RUSSIA, WITH LOVE
Ingrid Weaver
SCENT OF A WOMAN
Joanne Rock
THE TYCOON’S SON
Cindy Kirk
BREAKING ALL THE RULES
Marisa Carroll
AN AFFAIR TO REMEMBER
Karen Kendall
BELOW DECK
Dorien Kelly
A PERFECT MARRIAGE?
Cindi Myers
FULL EXPOSURE
Diana Duncan
CABIN FEVER
Mary Leo
ISLAND HEAT
Sarah Mayberry
STARSTRUCK
Michelle Celmer
THE WAY HE MOVES
Marcia King-Gamble

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER ONE
“CALL ME THE MOMENT that pendant is found, capisce?”
Tracy Irvine’s grip tightened around the receiver. She could tell her ex-husband was losing patience with her. This was her last chance and she needed to deliver or else.
Previously she’d screwed up badly and she might not have another chance to redeem herself. Her child’s well-being was at stake here, so she needed to play Sal’s sick game. It was the only way to get Franco back. He was her son, their son, and her reason for living.
“I will, Sal, I promise,” she said, striving to sound confident. “I won’t disappoint you this time.”
“You better not, bella, especially if you know what’s good for you. This is your last chance. There will be hell to pay if you don’t deliver this time around.” Sal’s raucous laughter resounded in her ear.
“When will I get to see Franco?” Tracy asked, trying to hold back the tears that were welling. If Sal knew she was close to breaking, he would get uglier. He had a sadistic streak to him.
“In good time, as soon as that pendant is mine.”
“I’ll get it for you. I swear I will.”
“Do that, bella, and soon.”
The receiver clunked down, the dial tone reverberating in her ear.
Tracy allowed herself a good cry, then taking a deep breath pulled herself together. In ten minutes she was on duty, greeting passengers as they boarded Alexandra’s Dream. She’d been hired as a dancer on the cruise ship, but in her off time she performed other duties. Today she was assigned to welcome passengers boarding at Port Everglades in Fort Lauderdale.
No matter how distraught she felt, she had no choice but to look perky.

IN THE EMBARKATION AREA, VIP passengers were being escorted on board. Serena d’Andrea, accompanied by her best friend, Pia Fischer, stepped off the ramp and onto the cruise ship Alexandra’s Dream. Although Serena was no stranger to the good life, she gaped at the opulent lobby with its elaborate chandeliers and winding staircases leading to an upper deck.
She certainly hadn’t been expecting the interior of the luxury vessel to look like a five-star hotel. Her friend Pia seemed equally awed. She used the pamphlet handed to her by the embarkation staff to fan her face.
“Oh, my,” Pia gushed, speaking in English instead of their native Spanish. “Oh, my.”
“Awesome, as the Americans would say.”
Pia nodded her blonde head. “To die for, awesome.”
An attractive, brunette crewmember, outfitted in a navy blazer and white slacks, scrutinized their boarding passes before handing them back.
“Welcome aboard, Dr. Fischer and Ms. d’Andrea,” the woman said, her dazzling smile washing over them. “You are in one of our penthouse suites. Let me introduce you to your attendant, who will escort you to Zeus Deck.”
“My pleasure, ladies.” A woman dressed in a black taffeta dress and frilly white apron, stepped forward.
“Gracias,” Serena answered, catching herself and quickly switching to English. She was no longer in Argentina and should stick to the language most commonly spoken.
Pia seemed to be making the transition to English much more easily. “I am so looking forward to these next fourteen days,” she said. “I plan on catching up on my reading and relaxing every chance I get.”
“What about dancing?” Serena reminded her. “Isn’t that why we signed up for this charter? We came aboard to perfect our rhythm steps and take instructions from professional dancers.”
Pia flung an arm around Serena’s shoulders.
“Of course we’ll dance every chance we get. I’m just glad to be away from patients and their issues. After a while you get burned out.”
Serena nodded her understanding. She knew exactly what Pia meant. Emotionally she was exhausted and had been for the last six months.
The two were as opposite as two people could be. Pia, a well respected psychiatrist, was petite and blonde with a chic pixie haircut and a vivacious personality that inspired instant trust. She and Serena, the more reserved of the two, had been best friends since nursery school. Serena was tall, with thick, dark wavy hair and wide violet eyes.
The doors of an elevator opened and the maid waved them in. The glass elevator whizzed them up several floors before stopping on ten.
“Zeus Deck,” the attendant announced, pointing to a discreet gilt plaque on the wall when they got off. After a short walk down a plush carpeted hallway, the maid used a card key to open double doors leading into spacious living accommodations.
As they entered, Serena noted the walls of the suite were painted olive, contrasting nicely with the honey-colored furniture. A chocolate leather love seat and matching chair made for comfortable seating. Outside on a wooden deck were teak lounge chairs and a hot tub that might easily seat eight. A small garden with convincing fake flowers had a fountain guarded by a statue of Aphrodite.
The maid pointed to an area they hadn’t entered yet.
“Your bedroom, ladies.”
The room held twin beds and a gigantic console with a television, VCR and DVD player. A huge picture window let in sunlight and glimpses of blue water, as well as the mansions on the Fort Lauderdale waterfront.
Pia, as enthusiastic as ever, kicked off her high heels and plopped onto one of the beds.
“I might just get used to this,” she enthused. “I can’t wait to get out of this clothing. When will our luggage arrive?”
“Your bags are already here, madam.”
The attendant threw open the double doors of the closet to show them where their luggage was stashed. “I can get the butler to help you unpack,” she offered.
Both women exchanged looks. No butler, at least not right now. There were just some things a woman preferred to do on her own.
“We’ll take care of our own unpacking but we’d like help with ironing our dresses later,” Serena said, speaking for both of them.
“As you wish. If you do not need anything else, I will leave you ladies to relax.”
Bowing, the attendant backed out of the room.
When she was gone, Serena poured two glasses of champagne from the bottle chilling in the ice bucket. Next to it was a large gift basket. She handed Pia her wine.
“To a much needed vacation,” she said, clinking her glass against her friend’s.
Pia waved the embarkation brochure at Serena. “I’ll drink to that. Let’s hope there are some classy men aboard that we’ll enjoy dancing with. Have you looked at the workshop and competitive dancing schedules? They’re inserted in the brochure.”
“Yes, just briefly. I can’t believe we found this themed dance cruise. I’ve had this fantasy since I was a little girl about being a professional ballroom dancer. I love my publishing career, but the stress of deadlines is wearing me down.”
Kicking off her shoes, Serena joined Pia on the bed.
“Being a psychiatrist is no picnic either, querida,” her friend confided. “There are times I just have to bite my tongue. I’m paid to listen and not to judge.”
“You’re a wonderful doctor, Pia, and an incredible friend. We’ll use these next two weeks to recharge our batteries.”
“I’ll definitely drink to that.”
Serena poured more champagne. For the next half hour, the friends perused the workshop schedule, circling the names of dance instructors they wanted to take lessons from. Although Serena didn’t think she was good enough to enter the competitive dancing heats, she was willing to give it a try.
The alcohol went down easily, making her relax. She’d been edgy and jet lagged from the long plane trip from Buenos Aires. “Did you see there’s a treasure hunt as part of the cruise?” Pia asked, flipping over the brochure. “It’s based on a legend about the moon goddess and her lover. Whoever finds the hidden pendant is supposed to be lucky in love. Now that’s something we could both use.”
Serena set down her glass. Love was something she was unwilling to engage in anymore.
“I was thinking that the story of the moon goddess and this lowly shepherd might make a good young adult’s book,” she mused. “Maybe I should write it myself instead of assigning it.”
“Why don’t you? You’ve got fourteen days to do whatever you want, querida.”
Selena, Serena’s twin, had been a hopeless romantic and would have jumped all over the idea. Maybe Serena would dedicate the book to her twin sister’s memory.
Still toying with that thought, she opened the brochure, found the insert, and quickly reread the legend. It was a charming story and had lots of possibilities. Serena headed up the young adult division of her parents’ publishing house, so it would be easy to get a book published.
“I wouldn’t mind the perks that come with finding the pendant,” Serena said dreamily. “Massages, beauty treatments, invitations to the ship’s bridge. It all sounds wonderful to me.”
“Don’t forget the romance bit,” Pia reminded her. “We could both use a good man in our lives.”
Carlos had been Pia’s great love. They’d dated for several years, and were engaged. Then with no explanation he had changed his mind and called things off. Later Pia had found out he’d taken up with a young woman almost half his age, and had no problem marrying her.
Serena thought about her own romantic woes. Six months ago she’d had a two week fling, but nothing had come of that either. He’d chosen the coward’s way out, disappearing without so much as an explanation. As a result she was starting to develop serious trust issues with men.
Pia clapped her hands.
“Bastante! I’m starving. There must be something to eat in that gift basket?”
The huge basket wrapped in cellophane and topped with a jaunty yellow bow sat on the coffee table. Serena poked a hole in the wrapping with a manicured nail. She removed oranges, a pineapple, and mangos and laid them on the dresser along with peanuts, wedges of cheese and crackers. At the very bottom of the basket she spotted a velvet pouch.
“What’s this?” she said, swishing her wavy black hair off her face and balancing the pouch in the palm of one hand.
“Open it,” Pia urged.
Alexandra’s Dream listed slightly as Serena removed a silver teardrop pendant from the pouch and tossed it to Pia, who deftly caught it with one hand.
“Caramba! I think this is the treasure,” Pia cried.
Simultaneously a male voice boomed over the intercom.
“Our mandatory lifeboat drill will commence in exactly ten minutes. All passengers are requested to make their way to their assigned muster stations.”
Both women quickly found their life jackets and headed out.
“Take the pendant with you,” Pia urged, giving Serena a little nudge and folding it into her hand. “We’ll stop at the Guest Relations Desk after the drill and tell them the treasure has been found.”
On the way downstairs, the women put on their life jackets and were directed to their muster stations. Forty five minutes later, after each passenger had been accounted for, and several tedious announcements made, the boat drill ended.
Braving a good-sized crowd on the stairwell, they made their way to the Guest Relations Desk and stood in line awaiting their turn. Finally, an attractive Indonesian purser with a name badge that read Kali looked up from her computer monitor.
“Can I help you?”
“You have a winner,” Serena said, handing the velvet pouch to the woman.
“May I have your name and cabin number please?”
“Serena d’Andrea. I’m in a penthouse on Zeus.” She patiently waited for further instructions.
Kali dangled the tear-shaped pendant from her index finger and called to some unseen person in a back room. “The treasure’s been found.” She handed Serena back the piece. “You’re a winner, all right, but I don’t think finding love on board will be a problem for you. There are quite a few hotties that are part of our Rhythm Dancers theme cruise.”
“I guess we’ll find that out at the Bon Voyage party,” Pia interjected, “It should be starting any minute. Can you confirm where it is?”
A piece of paper that looked like a newspaper was slid across the counter at them. It listed all of the onboard events.
“Do you have the time now to be interviewed?” Kali asked. “I can get a photographer and video crew here if you do.”
Serena shook her head and glanced at the clock on the back wall. “No way.”
“Okay. We’ll find you at the party. Whatever works best for you.”
Back in the penthouse, after a quick shower, Serena slipped into a turquoise halter dress and began trying on different pieces of jewelry.
“What do you think of this necklace?” she asked Pia, holding up a string of irregularly shaped beads.
“I think you should wear the pendant,” Pia urged. “Let’s see if it lives up to its name.” She handed Serena a polishing cloth. “Give it a good rub and it should brighten up.”
Serena took the cloth from her and made a wry face. “Okay. It’s bound to encourage conversation at least.”
After polishing the piece, Serena removed the chain and threaded a satin ribbon through the loop and tied it around her neck. The silver pendant contrasted nicely with her tanned skin.
“Perfect,” Pia announced. “You look like a moon goddess yourself.”
“You’re good for my ego. What would I ever do without you?”
“Live a full, happy life. Making people feel good about themselves is what I do for a living. If I can do it for patients, I most certainly can do it for my best friend.”
Pia wiggled into a form-fitting sleeveless dress that only someone who weighed one hundred and eight pounds would dare to wear.
“How do I look?” she asked, placing one hand on her hip and posing.
“Stunning, you always do.”
“Thank you. Now let’s go to the party and see if we can find ourselves dance partners.”
Linking arms, the two women headed out.

TRACY DOWNED another glass of Alka Seltzer and hoped her stomach would settle. In half an hour she had a dance rehearsal and she expected the phone to ring any moment. When it did, she wasted no time picking up.
“Hello,” she said, breathlessly.
“It’s Kali. I’m calling as promised. An Argentine woman found the pendant. Her name is Serena d’Andrea and she’s in a penthouse suite. She’s a babe, tall, stunning and has the most beautiful eyes. The men on this cruise will be tripping over their feet to dance with her.”
“Has the video crew interviewed her yet?”
“No, she was in a hurry, so they’ll do it at the Bon Voyage party in La Belle Epoque. Why are you so interested in this pendant anyway?”
“Call me a hopeless romantic.”
“Aren’t we all? Listen, I have to run. This Rhythm Dancers group is driving me crazy. They’ve taken over the ship and there’s a very long line at the front desk.”
After Kali hung up, Tracy paced the small cabin. Time was running out. She needed to get her hand on that pendant and soon. Sal had grown impatient and his threats that she would never see her baby boy again had increased. He’d managed to get hired on board as an escort. That sent a clear message that he thought she was a screw up.
With some trepidation Tracy punched in Sal’s number and waited for him to pick up. What a con artist he was. He’d certainly sold her a bill of goods. When they were dating he’d told her what she’d wanted to hear, and she’d married him convinced that he would take care of her. But once the ring was on her finger, he’d turned into a woman’s worst nightmare. He became abusive.
In a matter of time she found out that Sal Morena was no more than a small time hood. He needed the attention of women to keep his ego fed, and he enjoyed manipulating them and seeing their reactions. It was all about Sal—no one else mattered. How he’d managed to talk his way into a job as a dance escort was anyone’s guess. The man was no Fred Astaire.
Tracy’s anxiety built as the phone continued to ring. She was about to hang up when Sal’s gruff voice finally came on the line.
“Prego!”
“Sal, it’s Tracy.”
“What’s taken you so long to get back to me?”
“I was waiting for my friend at the Guest Relations desk to call. An Argentinean woman by the name of Serena d’Andrea found the pendant. She’s in a suite on Zeus. She’s a member of the Rhythm Dancers group and she’ll be attending the Bon Voyage party.”
“Grazie,” Sal snorted. “I’ll be attending that party, too, and I’ll be sure to become acquainted with the d’Andrea woman. I’ll pretend to be interested in her, regardless of whether she’s a dog or not.” Another raucous laugh followed. “I’ll just have to fantasize that she’s a supermodel, and do whatever it takes to get my hands on that pendant.”
What a pig he was. She must have been out of her mind to have slept with him, much less married the man.
“How is Franco, Sal? When will you give him back to me?”
An ugly snort followed, and another derisive chuckle.
“When you deliver on your promises, and I have that pendant in my hot little hands, then maybe you’ll get your son back.”
“But Sal that’s not what we agreed…”
“But Sal, nothing. You’ve had ample opportunity to get me that pendant, and you’ve botched each and every attempt. That weasel Giorgio managed to get himself arrested without paying my gambling debt. Now that pendant is mine. Excuse me. I must go and get ready for the party.”
“And I have dance rehearsal,” Tracy said, smothering a sob.
She laid the receiver down and swiped at her eye. What more did Sal expect of her? She was feeding him information as soon as she got it. And in exchange he had promised to give her back her son. Their son, though you would never guess it from his actions.
Her child was the one person who loved her unconditionally. She would do just about anything to hold him in her arms again.
She had to help Sal get that pendant. She had to.

CHAPTER TWO
ON BACCHUS DECK, the five hundred plus passengers who’d signed up for the Rhythm Dancers charter were packed into La Belle Epoque. When Serena and Pia entered the dance club, people were milling around the champagne bar sipping colorful drinks.
The information in the pamphlet indicated that the group was a diverse one, coming from different dance clubs around the world. Many passengers had signed up for the chance to rub shoulders with the pros and take lessons from the best. The more confident dancers were already out on the floor executing complicated twist and turns. So much for non-competitive dancing.
The Bon Voyage party had been touted as the ultimate ice breaker: an opportunity for dancers to mingle and get to know each other. From the looks of things, it was shaping up to be a very competitive event, with dancers using the occasion to showcase themselves. Since it was standing room only, Serena and Pia found a spot off to the side with a decent view of the floor.
“I’m going to have to try my best not to analyze some of these people,’ Pia said, “I’ll get us drinks. If you’re not here when I get back I’ll find you.” With that she hurried off.
Serena was left to people watch. She’d come aboard hoping to find a dance partner, someone who was looking to have fun with no strings attached. She was determined the next fourteen days were going to be divided between writing and working on her rhythm dancing. She owed it to her twin, Selena, to write that book, and she planned on following through.
Pia soon came hurrying back with a tall, fair-skinned ship’s officer in tow. He carried their drinks.
“This is Andreas Zonis,” she announced, gesturing to the officer to hand Serena her glass.
Serena accepted the drink and shook the man’s hand. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, but Andreas, clearly interested in Pia, shifted his attention back to her friend.
Feeling like a third wheel, Serena cast another glance around the crowded room. Her eyes lingered on a tall, dark-haired man in pressed jeans, and a short-sleeved linen shirt tucked neatly in his pants. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Serena’s gaze traveled the length of him, stopping at his feet. He wore silver-tipped leather boots with a thick heel that added to his considerable height.
Painful memories came flooding back, so much so that she couldn’t help giving him a second look. He was too far away to get a close-up of his face, but he reminded her of the man she’d met in Buenos Aires, the man who’d broken her heart.
With a concentrated effort she tried to focus on the here and now. It had been six months since she’d last laid eyes on Marc LeClair and she should be over him by now. But how did you forget a man who’d seemed perfect for you—a man who’d made you laugh so hard your sides ached. Marc, of the jet-black wavy hair, and to die-for blue eyes. She’d fallen hard and fast, and moving on wasn’t easy.
Serena could still hear his raspy voice whispering endearments in her ear. When she closed her eyes, his unique spicy scent tickled her nostrils. With vivid clarity she remembered how he’d held her, loved her.
“Serena, you are a dream come true,” he’d said. “The woman I’ve been waiting for.”
Lines. All of it. And she’d bought them hook, line and sinker, convincing herself there was a future for them. She’d said those three little words I love you. Words she’d never said to another soul. And that was the beginning of the end, she suspected, because after that he’d disappeared.
The dark-haired man was laughing at something the woman next to him said. Serena wasn’t close enough to hear him, but Marc’s laughter had been distinctive and hardy, and this man certainly looked as if he was enjoying himself.
The resemblance was truly uncanny, although she’d never seen Marc dressed so casually or appear so relaxed. Marc LeClair had been polished and put together, and he’d said he had a twin. Serena wondered if this could be the twin brother.
His being a twin was another reason she’d been drawn to him. Twins had a special bond, an intuitive understanding of each other. She and Selena had been able to communicate without saying a word. And she and Marc shared a love of ballroom dancing and old movies, the kind where people wore elegant clothing and knew how to foxtrot.
In an especially intimate moment, Serena had shared with Marc the dark times after her sister’s equestrian accident when she could not get out of bed. Serena had been depressed and one step away from ending it all. It had been a painful heartbreaking experience. If she hadn’t had Pia to lean on she would probably not have made it through. It was Pia who’d been there to help her through that awful time after Marc dumped her, too.
“Dios mío!” Serena hissed, elbowing her friend in the gut and sloshing liquid from their glasses. “It is him.”
“Him who?” Pia answered distractedly, her attention still focused on the handsome cruise ship officer.
The attractive redhead was now whispering something in the look-a-like Marc’s ear. Her plunging neckline threatened to spill her considerable assets, and using those assets to her advantage, she brushed her breasts against the man’s arm.
Serena couldn’t help but gape. How could two people possibly look so much alike? On the one hand she hoped it wasn’t him. He was the last person she wanted to run into on her vacation. She was still embarrassed and more than a little angry at the manner in which their brief relationship had ended. She’d followed her heart and given in to passion, ending up in his bed. He’d said he loved her, yet he’d left her without a word; not a note or a follow up phone call. He’d treated her like a pick-up and she couldn’t easily get over that.
She was tempted to confront him just for the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. But what if it wasn’t Marc? Serena wished she could discuss her options with Pia. But her psychiatrist friend was too busy flirting with the hot-looking officer. Later maybe, they would have one of their talks.
To take her mind off the man who reminded her so much of Marc, Serena gulped her rum punch and focused on the female members of the Rhythm Dancers group. The women wore everything from microminis and swirling ankle-length skirts to Daisy Dukes, those sexy low rise cut-offs that Argentine women would only be seen in if their bodies were perfect, but Americans wore confidently regardless of their size.
Serena smoothed the skirt of the turquoise sundress and glanced down to admire the silver three-inch heel sandals she’d thought were sexy. At five feet eight inches she hardly needed the additional height, but standing out in a crowd helped boost her confidence. She fingered the teardrop pendant and returned her attention to the dance floor.
Across the way, a tall, olive-complexioned man lifted his glass and winked at her. Simultaneously the ship’s whistle blew and a voice boomed over the intercom.
“It is with great pleasure the crew of Alexandra’s Dream welcomes The Rhythm Dancers. If you have not done so already, please make your way to deck six for your Bon Voyage party.”
The dark skinned man continued to stare at her although she tried her best to ignore him. Something about him made her stomach churn and normally she did not have this strong a reaction to anyone. She kept her gaze on the dance floor, listening to the host and hostess, an Argentine and American pair. On a raised dais behind them, a D.J. adjusted the knobs of his stereo equipment, turning the volume up high. He was warming up the crowd already tapping their feet irritably.
More and more people began gravitating toward the dance floor. Pia was now trying to convince the officer to give it a whirl.
“I’m not a very good dancer,” he said in a Greek accent. “You mentioned you’ve been taking lessons for years. I will make a fool of myself.”
“No you won’t,” Pia insisted. “If you let me lead you, we can salsa like pros.”
Serena bet they would do a lot more than salsa if Pia had her way. Pia was a smart, confident woman extremely comfortable in her sexuality, and not the least bit shy about going after what she wanted. Right now the handsome officer was at the top of her list.
Pia had chosen a profession well suited to her. She’d always been the insightful one, forever in tune with people’s thoughts and motivations. If she hadn’t been away at a symposium when Marc LeClair had come to town, maybe Serena’s involvement with him would not have gone as far as it had.
Pia was now dragging the awed officer onto the dance floor, leaving Serena alone.
“Would you like to dance?” an accented male voice asked over her shoulder. The man who’d been gawking held out his hand. He was tall, tanned, and had spiky, gelled, black hair.
“Um, I’m waiting for my friend.”
“She is dancing and you should be, too. My name is Salvatore Morena. My friends call me Sal.” He pointed at her neck. “That’s quite the pendant.”
“Thank you. Serena d’Andrea,” Serena said, accepting his hand because she had no choice.
For some unexplainable reason her instincts were telling her this was not a nice man.
Sal placed a hand lightly on Serena’s shoulder blade as they began to salsa.
“Serena,” he repeated, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her palm. “Bellissima. Serena means the calm one. I am in the jewelry business and I know a nice piece when I see one.” He reached as if to take the pendant in his hand.
Determined to avoid his touch, Serena stumbled. Sal brought her right back into step.
“Perhaps some time during this cruise you will allow me to appraise the piece?”
She didn’t respond right away, and Sal wondered if maybe he was losing his touch. He was a good-looking man, he’d been told, earthy, without an excess ounce of fat on him. Most women would have been eating up the flattery and been all over him by now.
Time to turn up the wattage a notch.
Sal directed his most melting gaze at Serena. She didn’t seem particularly impressed. Usually women got excited when they heard he was in the jewelry business. Immediately visions of diamonds began dancing in their heads.
“What do you say, Serena, will you entrust your pendant to me so I can appraise it?”
“Uh…perhaps,” she answered, making it sound as if he wasn’t exactly trustworthy. “But it’s not really mine.”
All too soon the lively salsa came to an end and another began. Sal tightened his hold on her before she could run off. If she knew how turned on he was maybe she’d loosen up a bit.
“Why are you in such a hurry, bella? The evening is young and I’m enjoying dancing with you,” he whispered in her ear.
Serena muttered something he didn’t quite hear and continued to dance. She was a good dancer and used her hips seductively. It wasn’t a hardship holding her close, since she was curvy in all the right places. If things went as planned, he wouldn’t have to fake interest in her.
Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Sal swung around, his infamous glare in place. Damn. The man had a camcorder in his hand. He must want to film Serena.
Sal was reluctant to turn her over to the man, especially when he was just warming her up. By the time he was through making love to her, she’d be begging him to take that pendant from between her beautiful olive breasts. He just needed to work on getting her to trust him.
“Is there something you wanted?” Sal asked the cruise ship employee.
“Yes, we’d like to interview the person who found the pendant.”
Sal spotted another videographer lurking in the background. On second thought this might well be the time to make himself scarce. He couldn’t risk having his mug plastered on every in-cabin television or the videos passengers bought to take home. He’d be the first person they came after when that pendant went missing.

SERENA’S PRAYERS HAD been answered. She’d been saved, and not a minute too soon. She’d come this close to kneeing her dance partner in the groin. Granted, she wasn’t crazy about being interviewed by the video staff, but anything was better than having this man rubbing up against her while pretending to dance.
“Where would you like to conduct your interview?” she asked the man with the camcorder.
“Here on the dance floor,” he said, sticking a microphone under her nose. “You’re with the Rhythm Dancers group so that means you much prefer fast dancing to slow.”
“Sí. Yes, I am and yes I do.”
“Your native language is Spanish but you speak English perfectly. Where are you from?”
“Argentina.”
“Cool!”
Serena, conscious of the camcorder whirring away, looked around frantically for Pia. Her friend handled the spotlight much better than she did.
Pia had found herself another dance partner, so Serena knew she was on her own. She fingered the pendant around her neck and stared into the lens of the camera.
Her interviewer had a serious expression on his face as he held the microphone, and spoke into it in exaggerated tones.
“Once upon a time, according to Greek mythology, a moon goddess dared to fall in love with a commoner, a humble shepherd no less. This very much angered her suitor, the god Zeus, no less. In his jealousy Zeus killed the shepherd. The devastated moon goddess wept and wept until her tears threatened to flood the earth. Finally she was convinced to stop. One of those teardrops fell on the beautiful diamond clasp of the cloak that concealed the two lovers, hiding it forever. To this day, silver teardrop pendants are a sign of true love, and the person who finds our shipboard pendant is guaranteed to be lucky in love.”
His companion stepped forward, taking over.
“Will Serena d’Andrea be lucky enough to find a shipboard romance? Let’s hear what she has to say.”
The microphone was thrust under Serena’s nose again.
“How does it feel to have discovered the pendant?” the crew member asked.
Serena, conscious of every eye on her, smiled into the camera. Even the people who’d been dancing had stopped.
“It was a big surprise. There it was right at the bottom of the gift basket. I certainly didn’t expect to find it.”
“Are you excited about the prospect of wearing the pendant around the ship and maybe finding your own true love?”
The camera zoomed in to capture the pendant nestled between Serena’s cleavage.
Caught off guard by the directness of the question, Serena fingered the piece. “Searching for the pendant was fun, and I enjoyed reading the story of the shepherd Lexus and his love for the moon goddess. I’d like to believe that some day I will find my true love.”
“Do you believe true love exists?” the other videographer asked, stepping forward.
Of course she believed in love. But love hurt and could be painful if unrequited. She’d learned that the hard way by falling for Marc LeClair, the man who’d broken her heart.
Serena glanced in the direction where she’d last seen the man she’d thought might be Marc Le Clair. He was no longer there and neither was the redhead.
“My friend is a very romantic woman,” Pia said, coming up beside her. “She is excited about the possibility of meeting Señor Right aboard Alexandra’s Dream. Aren’t you, querida?” Pia placed an arm around Serena’s shoulders and smiled for the camera.
Caught up in her friend’s enthusiasm, and buoyed by her support, Serena managed another bright smile. She held the pendant between her thumb and forefinger, making sure the camera crew got a good shot of the piece.
“Of course. Let’s hope this brings me good luck.”
Applause broke out around her. The disk jockey cranked up the music louder, signaling the interview was officially over. Dancing immediately resumed.
But the music was quickly cut off when a commanding voice called over the intercom, “We have officially set sail for Hemingway’s Key West. We wish you a safe and enjoyable journey. Bon voyage!”

CHAPTER THREE
“YOU DANCE LIKE A NATIVE,” the redhead said coyly. She’d commandeered Marc’s arm and practically dragged him onto the dance floor. With each sultry move her oversized breasts grazed his chest, but he still didn’t know her name, nor was he particularly interested in finding out.
“You could say I am a native,” Marc answered smoothly, executing an underarm turn. “My mother was Argentinean, so I learned to dance practically before I could walk.”
“Argentinean.” She looked at him, awed. “I thought you were a good ole boy from Texas. I checked out your boots.”
He wasn’t sure how to take that. Was it a come on?
“I’m from Canada. Alberta’s where I was born, but I’ve been working in Texas for a couple of years. The boots are my tribute to Texas, but we’ve got lots of cowboys in Alberta, too.”
“Cool!”
Marc couldn’t wait for the dance to end. He had no desire to discuss his personal life with a stranger. He tried taking the lead since he could almost hear her counting the salsa beat in her head, but she wouldn’t let him.
Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quick, slow. Although not exactly proficient in salsa, she faked it, using a lot of hip and breast movement to make it look authentic.
“I’m Heddy,” she said, her lips close to his ear.
“Heddy? That’s an unusual name.”
“It’s actually Heather Maxwell but I hate Heather.”
“Heather’s a beautiful name,” Marc murmured.
From the moment he’d arrived at the party, she’d attached herself to him. She’d even accompanied him to the Guest Relations Desk to straighten out a problem with his onboard charge card when his purchase didn’t go through. She seemed pleasant enough but not terribly bright. Right now she was providing a welcome distraction, helping him get his mind off the real reason he’d been forced to take this sudden vacation.
A hand tapped his shoulder. He jumped. He was still jittery and on edge, and rightly so, given everything he’d been through.
“May I cut in?” a well-groomed, dark-haired man asked. He eyed Heddy.
“Of course.”
Ignoring Heddy’s frantic headshakes, Marc quickly turned her over to the man and left the dance floor.
As he made his way across the room, Marc noticed a group of people gathered around someone. His first thought was that it must be one of the celebrity instructors putting on a solo performance. Curious, he slowed his pace, hoping to see one of the greats, but as bits of conversation floated his way, he realized he’d been mistaken.
“It must feel great finding the pendant,” a woman’s high-pitched voice shrilled. “You’re bound to get lots of attention.”
“With looks like that, you don’t need a pendant,” another voice called out. “Hand it over, girl. Some of us need it more.”
“Did the cruise staff tell you what kinds of perks you’ll get if they find you wearing the pendant?”
Marc couldn’t hear the responses to the questions but guessed the fuss had something to do with the treasure hunt mentioned in the embarkation pamphlet. He’d passed on hunting for the pendant. Finding love wasn’t in the cards right now; his primary focus was staying alive.
He was on this ship for two reasons—first, because he’d been ordered by his boss to disappear, and second, because there was nothing he enjoyed more than dancing. Dancing was a great stress reliever. And for the next fourteen days he could take lessons with the best.
There had been threats on his life recently, followed by a dozen or so near mishaps. Marc was ordered to take a vacation and forced out of his beloved Colombia. Leaving the country he loved and his high-profile position at the Canadian embassy only added to his stress, but at least the dance-themed cruise would keep him from thinking about it for a while.
He’d grown up taking dance lessons. Both of his parents had been accomplished dancers. High level government officials, they’d expected their children to know how to dance, and their social life revolved around various ballroom events. His mother, a South American socialite, and his father, also from a socially prominent Canadian family, thought it would instill confidence and at the same time keep them occupied.
At first, Marc had been resentful about having to go to dance classes when his friends were out playing sports. But as he got older he began to appreciate having this skill. Dancing had made adolescence far less painful. While his schoolmates had difficulty crossing a room to ask a girl to dance, he found it easy. And once he was on the floor he became another person, totally uninhibited. This made him a popular and sought-after date.
He stood now at the fringe of the crowd, curious to see who the crew members were filming. Whoever it was must be enjoying their fifteen minutes of fame and eating up the attention.
He caught a glimpse of turquoise clothing and wavy black hair and knew it was a woman. She must be hot since there was a disproportionate number of men in the crowd.
The music in the background swelled, and a female voice took over the microphone. The interview was over.
“It’s lady’s choice. Gals, it’s your turn to grab yourself a man.”
A stampede ensued as women pulled visibly reluctant partners onto the dance floor. Marc wanted to see the woman in the turquoise dress so he hung back. When she turned around and he saw her face, he stared. It couldn’t be, but the flicker of recognition in those violet eyes told him it was Serena. No one had eyes quite like hers. He was transported back to another time, another place.
They were in a dance club, elegant and imposing, with winding staircases and a polished oak floor. He’d been taken there by a business colleague and his wife, people who weren’t serious dancers but just out to have a good time. When Marc had spotted Serena on that dance floor, he’d known that she was the one.
He’d positioned himself in such a way that when the dance ended, he was in her path. He’d asked her to join him in a Viennese waltz, and one dance had led to another. They fell in step easily. The perfect fit. Quickly, too quickly, the evening had passed.
A look of revulsion now replaced the startled expression in Serena’s eyes and she was staring at him as if he were some kind of rodent.
Marc had learned to school his expressions and keep his emotions under wraps. In his business you had to. He’d hoped and prayed for months that Serena d’Andrea would get in touch with him, and when that hadn’t happened, he’d become resigned to never seeing her again. The irony of it was that she was now aboard this cruise ship with him. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. He would not endanger her life.
Marc nodded, acknowledging her.
Serena’s violet eyes traveled the length of him, but she maintained a respectable distance. At last she spoke.
“It’s been a long time.”
“Do we know each other?” The lie rolled easily off his tongue.
Serena’s lips quivered slightly. She was thrown.
“Marc LeClair?” she asked, uncertainly.
“Sorry. I’m flattered and wish I were him. My name is Gilles Anderson. You are?”
“Serena d’Andrea,” she answered in the smoky voice he remembered.
She was so beautiful. He’d fallen hard and he still hadn’t recovered. Marc gave Serena a slow, lazy smile. He tried not to let the memories take over. It had been six months since he’d last seen her but it felt like yesterday.
Serena’s winged eyebrows came together. She fingered the silver pendant and carefully looked him over.
“Gilles, were you in Buenos Aires about six months ago?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’m afraid not. I’ve been on business in Dallas, Texas, for the last year or so.”
“What about Colombia then? Did you live there?”
Another slow shake of his head signaled his puzzlement. “Can’t say I have, though it’s on my list of places to travel. Maybe after I get back home to Canada and tend to some business, I’ll be ready to set off again.”
“It’s nice to meet you…Gilles,” Serena said extending a hand. Her voice was heavy with skepticism. “How about we dance and get acquainted?”
He didn’t know where this was going, but no way was he getting on a dance floor with her—at least not for a sexy Latin salsa—without blowing his cover. They’d spent two weeks in Buenos Aires getting as close as any two people could. They’d danced and alternately made love, sometimes doing both simultaneously. Serena knew all of his moves.
“I’m going to have to pass, I’m afraid. Besides I’m hopeless when it comes to rhythm dancing.”
“I’ll take the lead,” she offered, coming right at him, her arms open.
“If he doesn’t want to dance, I’d be happy to,” a male voice said behind them. Without waiting for an answer, the man took Serena’s hands and began tugging her onto the floor. She didn’t look particularly happy but she went.
It had been a close call. The woman Marc had dreamed of and fantasized about for months, the woman who haunted his memories was here. Talk about poor timing.
The redhead was back.
“There you are,” she said. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” She held out a freshly made drink, which he took from her.
“Thanks.”
“How come you’re not dancing?” she asked, swiveling her hips. “I would have thought you could have any woman you want. You’re the hottest guy on this ship.”
Marc took a swallow of the clear-colored liquid. “What is this?”
“Rum and coconut water. The bartender’s from the islands. I told him to make us one of his favorite local drinks.”
Us? She was moving too fast for him, but she just might be what he needed to take his mind off Serena.
“We should dance,” Heddy said, coming even closer, her gigantic breasts almost nudging his chest.
“Okay, how about when the music changes and things slow down.”
“Perfect.”
There was a wide smile on her face now. From his answer she probably figured he was interested in her. Marc felt a twinge of guilt.
After a few more songs the music changed and several enterprising couples began to cha-cha-cha. Setting down his almost empty glass, Marc gestured for her to do the same. Heddy carried her glass with her and they began a one handed cha-cha-cha.
They’d been dancing for several minutes when a shrill scream tore through the music. People began scattering.
“Stop him,” a high pitched female voice shouted.
“Stop that thief. He tried to mug that woman.”
“Oh, my God he was choking her.”
A man plowed through the crowd, shoving people aside. He was heading directly toward them. Marc grabbed the half-filled glass that Heddy still held and flung the liquid into the man’s face. He stumbled and went down like a brick, arms splaying to brace his fall. The object he held hit the floor and began to roll.
Marc straddled the man, grabbed one of his arms and twisted it behind his back, almost wrenching it from its socket.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, applying pressure to the arm.
“Please, please, don’t hurt me,” the man whined. “I didn’t steal anything.”
Two passengers helped Marc keep the thief prone, until men wearing polo shirts with the Alexandra’s Dream logo took over.
“Security,” they barked, identifying themselves.
A pair of corded arms physically loosened Marc’s grip. He was breathing hard from the exertion of keeping the thief still.
The security man’s buddy placed a gigantic boot-clad foot on the small of the man’s back.
“You were great,” a woman in an elaborate ball gown gushed, her hand grazing Marc’s forearm. “What if he’d had a weapon?”
“Way to go, bud,” another man said.
Marc was still dazed, unable to believe that something like this could happen on a cruise ship. People were gawking, shocked, watching the thief as he was pulled to his feet and cuffed.
A man in ship’s whites, a stethoscope draped around his neck, pushed through the crowd. He was escorted by another security type. They headed for a woman seated in a lounge chair and surrounded by cruise personnel who were holding passengers back from the area.
Serena! Marc’s heart pounded in his chest. Was she all right? There would be hell to pay if she was hurt. A woman squatting next to her held her hand, offering water periodically. A crew member held a cold compress to the side of her neck and a tall, broad shouldered man who looked to be in charge had an anxious look on his face.
It must have been her jewelry the thief was after. He’d ripped the necklace off without caring whether he hurt Serena or not. Marc should have broken the bastard’s arm. He swallowed the bile that was slowly rising in his throat and fought to get his emotions under control.
The doctor removed the compress, revealing an ugly bruise on Serena’s neck. As the medic’s fingers probed the area, a man with a hip-rolling walk approached one of the security officers, muttering something in his ear. He was allowed access to the injured woman. He squatted down and folded something into her palm.
Serena opened her hand and brought the item closer to her. It shone under the artificial lighting, just like the tears in her eyes.
If Marc ever got hold of that bastard, the guy would live to regret what he’d done. Only a coward would hurt a woman.

CHAPTER FOUR
THANASI KALDIS, the hotel director, ran a tanned hand through hair that was beginning to silver at the tips. He ground his teeth in frustration. This contract had been nothing but a nightmare from the very start. He’d been stuck with a mostly North American crew who weren’t used to working long hours, and complained every chance they got. And he’d had passenger issues on every single cruise. Retirement was beginning to sound better and better.
What had happened to the days when people came on board a cruise to eat, drink and relax? Now there was always an agenda or some kind of incident that required the police or law enforcement.
He had been happy to leave the Mediterranean, figuring all the drama of the onboard smuggling scheme that had been uncovered was over with. In the Caribbean he was hoping to get back to some kind of normalcy. But no, Patti Kennedy, his cruise director, and the ship’s librarian had come up with this ridiculous treasure hunt. Now, even before the ship sailed, passengers were frantically going through their cabins and moving furniture around.
He was counting the days to vacation. At the end of this cruise, when the ship repositioned and sailed down the west coast of South America, Thanasi was taking a much needed break. After attending Ariana Bennett’s wedding, it was off to Athens to see his family.
Ariana was the ship’s librarian and she was marrying a former undercover Italian police officer, Dante Colangelo, who’d been investigating the smuggling ring. He’d abducted her at a dig site, suspecting she was involved in the antiquities black market. But after spending time together and discovering that neither was the enemy, the two had fallen for each other. They’d planned a shipboard ceremony so that all Ariana’s cruise staff friends could be there; the more elaborate wedding and reception would be held in Ariana’s hometown, Philadelphia.
During his vacation, Thanasi was going to seriously consider getting a job shoreside. He’d been toying with the idea for a while, especially after the smuggling scandal, but usually dismissed it because wanderlust got in the way. But even these past few voyages had not been incident free, and a nice dull desk job on shore was sounding better and better.
Thanasi was especially upset by this most recent attack. Alarm bells were bound to sound off to the media. The d’Andrea woman was an heiress from a prominent Buenos Aires family. Since past sailings had ended with arrests, Thanasi was dreading contacting the authorities again.
It would mean another delay and the inevitable itinerary adjustments. The result would be passengers complaining. And if the d’Andrea woman decided to press charges, well, that would create even more problems and a longer delay.
Thanasi hated dealing with the authorities at foreign ports of call, but maritime law being what it was, he had no choice. Luckily they were in Key West. Still, it would mean kissing off his cherished personal time. He would now be too busy with the police and FBI.
Thanasi and Nick Pappas, the captain, would have to be available for questions. Nick had already placed a call to the owner, Elias Stamos, who was at his vacation home in Barbados. Elias should be calling back any minute.
Meanwhile the assailant had been taken to the brig, an isolated cabin kept open to contain unruly passengers. Now it was left to Thanasi and Patti Kennedy to get things back on track and deliver the cruise experience these passengers had come onboard for.
Patti, resilient and perky as ever, was already on the dais and in full command of the microphone while the Rhythm Dancers D.J. sat silently, headphones on, gaping at her. She was keeping things upbeat and light, trying to play down the seriousness of the situation yet at the same time not trivializing the attack. He had to admit she was good at her job.
Initially Thanasi had had his doubts about Patti. He was more comfortable working with male cruise directors. But although Patti’s style was different, she’d delivered to date. She was pleasant, outgoing, humorous and a very attractive woman, especially popular with male passengers, who came up with outrageous excuses to interact with her.
“Well, now that we’ve had our entertainment for the evening,” Patti announced, smiling her big smile, and tossing a full mane of chestnut hair off her face, “we can get ahead with the business of enjoying this cruise. Be assured the thief is under lock and key, in a cabin far away from you and me, thank goodness.” She gave a throaty laugh and the passengers laughed with her.
“It’s safe to return to your cabins to get ready for dinner. First seating will be in exactly half an hour. If you prefer alternative dining, then the Marco Polo and Olive Grove are the places to be. Both restaurants serve until eleven. And after dinner you’ll love one of our Las Vegas style shows. The entertainment features our talented dancers, the Alexandra’s Dream Team. Thanasi Kaldis, your hotel director, and I will be out on the Promenade later to answer your questions.”
Patti surrendered the microphone to the clearly smitten D.J., who helped her down from the dais. She was immediately surrounded by people. Hoping to take the pressure off her, Thanasi made his way over.
Seconds before he got to the stage, a tall, dark-haired man in expensive boots accosted him. “You’re the hotel director, aren’t you?”
“I am.” Thanasi held out his hand. “Thanasi Kaldis at your service.” The passenger grasped it with a surprising firmness that almost made him wince. Thanasi quickly stuck his hand in the pocket of his navy blue double-breasted jacket and waited to hear what he would say.
“The name is Gilles Anderson,” he said. “How could something like this happen on a cruise ship? That woman could have been seriously hurt.”
Thanasi had asked himself the very same question, except he’d phrased it differently. How could something like this continue to happen on his cruise ship?
He was used to people drinking too much and occasionally causing a scene. He was used to couples fighting, the occasional extramarital affair gone awry, one-night stands that turned into a disaster when one or another party expected more, the disappearance of items from cabins, people complaining about food. But smuggling and passengers attacks were different from the usual experience. And this public assault of a passenger on his ship was definitely not to be tolerated.
“It’s an unfortunate situation,” Thanasi answered, keeping his voice modulated and his response professional. “This ship holds a thousand passengers and is very much like a floating city. We have metal detectors that passengers pass through prior to boarding, and the luggage goes through a scanner. Short of running background checks on all of our guests, we are doing our best.”
Gilles Anderson didn’t appear appeased by his answer. In fact he’d become more indignant. His face had taken on a crimson undertone, and Thanasi could tell he was fighting to control his anger.
“Where was your security force when that woman was attacked? Have you seen the ugly bruise on her neck? You’ll be lucky if she doesn’t sue you.”
Thanasi had thought about that too. Americans were a litigious group, although Ms. d’Andrea was Argentinean. The first thing he’d had the Guest Relations personnel do was check her travel documents and that’s how he’d discovered who she was.
“I repeat, it was a very unfortunate situation and we’ll do everything in our power to make Ms. d’Andrea’s stay with us as comfortable as possible.” Thanasi removed his hand from his pocket and tried to discreetly pass on some beverage coupons to the Anderson man. “Please try to put this ugly situation behind you and allow me to buy you a drink or two.”
The man recoiled as if he had been struck.
“Don’t try to mollify me. I don’t want complimentary drinks. I just want to be assured that none of us will have to worry about our safety on board.”
Thanasi nodded. “I understand. As stated, this was a highly unusual situation. I’ve already alerted the authorities and we’re putting steps in place to increase security.” He turned, hoping the videographers were still shooting. Spotting them, he said, “See over there? Every movement’s been recorded on film. It was stupid of that man to try stealing the pendant, because as soon as we look at that tape he’s as good as caught. You have my assurance security will be visible for the rest of the cruise, and if necessary we’ll have headquarters fly back-up personnel in.”
Patti walked over to join him.
“Hi, I’m Patti Kennedy, your cruise director. Is there something I can help with?”
Gilles Anderson turned and immediately his stance became less aggressive.
“We have it all sorted out, I think. Nice job you did soothing the fears of the passengers and reminding us what we’re here for.” He smiled at Patti, seeming to like what he saw.
Patti flashed the man another wide smile, one that revealed perfectly straight white teeth and made her tanned skin look even darker. She was one of those people who came across as happy, healthy and even-keeled under the most adverse circumstances.
“Thank you. You’re very kind,” she said. “Why don’t you stop by the Emperor’s Club later and join Thanasi and me for grappa.”
Thanasi felt a flicker of annoyance as he watched the flirtatious exchange, but at least he had been included in the invitation. He just hoped he wouldn’t turn out to be the third wheel or the chaperone.
“Sounds good to me—I’ll be there,” Gilles said, smiling back and looking at Patti as if she’d just told him he’d won another cruise. Patti could charm the most disgruntled passenger.
“Look, I’m sorry about giving you a hard time,” Gilles said, turning back to Thanasi. “I’m just concerned about what happened to that woman. I came to relax and I don’t want to have to keep looking over my shoulder.”
Thanasi touched the man’s forearm lightly. “Not a problem. I understand. Trust me, your safety is my biggest priority. I’ll see you at the Emperor’s Club after the late show, then.”
“I’ll be there.”
After Gilles Anderson left, Thanasi and Patti headed back to their offices. It seemed every step they took, they were stopped by anxious passengers who wanted to have their fears assuaged.
“You were very good with the Anderson man,” Thanasi admitted grudgingly.
So far Patti had proven to be competent and supportive, but he’d never told her so. The two had completely different styles of dealing with people. She was more relaxed, looser, while he preferred a formal businesslike approach. It was what he was comfortable with and the way he’d been trained.
Patti tossed another devastating smile his way, the kind that went directly to a man’s heart. “I guess I’m putting my ‘charm school’ training to good use, eh?”
She’d picked up the eh from the Canadian crewmembers, and while her words were said in jest, there was an underlying edge to them. Thanasi had been very vocal about letting the crew know that he wasn’t a proponent of “charm school.” Hospitality training taught the basics, but he truly believed the only way to know what it took to work a cruise ship and deal with people was to be hands-on. He’d had to learn from the bottom up and he felt that was an asset.
“Do you have time for a coffee?” he surprised himself by asking Patti.
For a fleeting moment her gold-flecked eyes registered shock, though she quickly recovered. She shot him another of those wide smiles. “Sure. Where would you like to go?”
“My office. We’ll be able to talk without interruption.”
Thanasi would have much preferred an alcoholic drink, but they were still on duty and both needed to keep a clear head. In an hour or so he’d be accompanying Sean Brady, the Acting Chief of Security, to the brig, where they would interrogate the thief and attempt to get a written confession from him.
Opening the door to his office, he stood aside to let Patti enter.
Her wide gaze swept the room before she eased into the chair he gestured her to. “You’re always so organized and so neat,” she said, taking the seat facing his desk. “I’m the total opposite.”
“You just have your own style.”
Thanasi had seen her office and could vouch that she wasn’t a minimalist. Paperwork was piled in neat stacks, but she had mementos of her visits to different countries all over the place. Patti had everything from Love Leaves purchased in Grenada to Evil Eye trinkets collected in Istanbul. Her office reflected her personality. It was warm, friendly and a little bit over the top.
He, on the other hand, prided himself on order. The only way to keep on top of the arduous paperwork that came with his job was to have folders for everything. With the exception of his computer, the surface of his desk was clutter-free.
He picked up the phone and spoke into it.
“I need a fresh pot of coffee and Danish sent up right away.”
“Danish,” Patti murmured. “I’m not sure I can afford the calories.”
“You don’t need to watch your figure,” Thanasi said bluntly, and watched two little red dots pop out on Patti’s cheeks.
He’d never seen her blush before. She had a figure most women would kill for. He’d seen her in a swimsuit at the crew gym when she was swimming laps. She had a flat stomach, shapely breasts and long legs. She was the kind of woman men fantasized about but seldom could get.
“You flatter me,” Patti said, smoothing her hands over hips that were almost nonexistent. “If I get too complacent the pounds start piling on. It’s easy to let yourself go on a cruise ship with all this food around.”
“Tell me about it.”
Thanasi sucked in his gut, not that there was much there to suck in. During his off time, what precious little there was of it, he frequented the crew gym, pumping iron like a mad man. When you were forty-something you had to work at keeping in shape and keeping your stress-level down.
“Oops! There goes my beeper,” Patti said, standing. “Rain check on that coffee. We’ll catch up at the Emperor’s Club later.”
“What about dinner?”
Patti was halfway out the door. The consummate professional, she was already answering the call.

“ARE YOU SURE you’re up to going to the dining room?” Pia asked as she watched Serena painstakingly layer foundation on her neck.
“Of course. I’m not going to let something as silly as a nasty bruise stop me from getting out and about.” Serena continued smoothing makeup over the ugly black and blue bruise resulting from the attack. “Help me pick out something to wear to dinner and afterwards we’ll take in a show.”
Pia crossed over to the closet and threw the doors open. “I find it odd that you were the one singled out. There are a thousand people on board.”
“It doesn’t make a whole lot of sense to me either. A man kept bumping into me while I was dancing. All of a sudden there was this tug, and I was dragged across the floor. Thankfully the ribbon holding the pendant broke.”
Pia sifted through the clothing the butler had ironed and hung in the closet. “And be thankful that passenger flung his drink in the thief’s face or he might have escaped.”
“What passenger?”
“The dark-haired guy wearing cowboy boots. The videographers were filming, and I saw the whole thing on the big screen T.V. That’s how I knew.” Pia handed an elegant silk pantsuit to Serena. “Try this. A lace camisole underneath and you’re set. I’d wear the pendant, too—it would look good with black. No point in leaving it lying around the room after what happened. I can’t imagine why anyone would try to steal it, though.”
“I’ll put it in my purse. My neck still aches.” Serena popped the jewelry into her evening bag. She was still shaken up, and more terrified than she was willing to admit. All she wanted to do was put the unpleasant incident behind her. “I thought about handing it in, but I hate to let that man win. Besides, he was caught, so maybe the pendant does have some lucky charm.”
Pia stood in front of the full-length mirror, finger-combing her hair, and putting the final touches on her makeup.
“This dark haired man, the one who threw the drink, what did he look like?” Serena asked.
“He was hot, sort of a Hugh Jackman type—you know, the Australian actor.”
Serena bit down on her bottom lip.
“And this Jackman look-a-like is one of our dance group?”
“He might be. He was on the dance floor several times with that hot-to-trot redhead. I remember looking at him and thinking, Now, there is one classy man. He’s got a golden tan, dreamy blue eyes, and a smile that could stop a woman’s heartbeat.” Pia must have noticed Serena’s stricken expression. “Dios Mío, Serena, he’s not the man you think is Marc?”
Serena nodded her head slowly. “He sounds like the passenger I pointed out to you earlier.”
“Then you must contact him and thank him for his help.”
“I suppose I could. If I speak with him at length I might be able to determine if he’s really Marc in disguise.”
“Have the maître d’ send him a bottle of wine or something. He’s bound to call you and thank you.”
“Good idea. And while I’m at it, I’ll also send a bottle of wine to the man who returned the pendant. Let’s go. We’ll be late for the second seating.”
Serena picked up her purse and Pia followed her out. They’d both agreed that the Empire Room, the main dining room, would be their best choice for dinner. As they approached they spotted the long line of passengers waiting to enter.
“Why don’t we come back in fifteen minutes after it opens,” Pia suggested, “Now is as good a time as any to familiarize ourselves with the ship. If we start off on Helios we can work our way down.”
Pia led the way to a glass elevator, and after a short wait they joined a number of people getting on. Among them was a chubby, middle-aged, overdressed woman, clutching the arm of a man in suit and tie. She poked Serena’s arm and said, “Aren’t you the woman that man attacked? I witnessed the whole thing.”
“You did?”
“Yes. I told the security people that man was dancing way too close to you. All of a sudden he left his partner and lunged for your throat. We’re from Kentucky. We don’t have this kind of excitement at home.”
“Well, at least he was caught,” another passenger chimed in.
Everyone in the packed elevator was now staring at Serena. She was glad when the elevator stopped on Poseidon and several people got off.
“I hope he didn’t hurt you too badly,” the plump, plain-speaking woman said. The sentiment was echoed by several others and Serena thanked them for their kindness.
She was relieved when they reached Helios and she and Pia quickly circled the artificially lit sundeck.
“We’ll need to spend some time here,” she said as they did a quick walk-through of the Jasmine Spa, fitness center and Starlight Theatre. All the amenities of an upscale resort seemed to be here, the putting green, tennis courts, hot tubs and a spacious observation deck.
“Sign me up,” Pia said enthusiastically.
“We’ll come back tomorrow when it’s light. Shall we take the stairs to the next deck?”
“Sure.”
On deck eleven, Artemis, they stuck their heads into the main lounge aptly named the Court of Dreams. It was three stories high and very glitzy. It reminded Serena of a wedding palace with its ornate railings, sweeping staircases and marble steps.
In typical Renaissance style, cherubs floated on the clouds on the ceiling, and pink, white and gold upholstered sofas and chairs added to the dreamy effect. Tucked away in illuminated alcoves were vases of greenery and blooming roses or statues of the Greek gods and goddesses. On stage, angled slightly to the left, a massive, black concert grand piano dominated.
“This reminds me so much of a European grand concert hall,” Pia exclaimed.
“It is rather elegant.”
They took a quick look at the indoor and outdoor pools, popped into the Sunshine’s American Diner, where families with kids were chomping on hamburgers and pizzas while enjoying a more casual dining experience.
“The Empire Room should be open by now,” Serena suggested, heading for the stairs.
A tuxedo-clad maître d’ and several assistants hovered at the entrance of the dining room, greeting the few people trickling in.
“May I seat you?” he asked. The women gave him their Alexandra’s Dream cards. After scrutinizing them, he flashed an even larger smile. “I have been waiting for you.”
Serena’s eyebrows rose. “You have?”
“Yes, indeed. I will bring you to the captain’s table. Please follow me.”

CHAPTER FIVE
“NAME AND CABIN NUMBER, please.” Sean Brady, Acting Chief of Security removed a notepad from his breast pocket.
The sullen man hugging the wall glared at him but kept his mouth shut. His arms were folded across his chest in a defiant gesture.
Thanasi was starting to get impatient. He had other things to attend to. If this stonewalling continued, he would be late for dinner and Nick would not be pleased.
Captain Nick Pappas had issued a command performance to join him at the Captain’s Table, which meant there were VIPs on board who needed entertaining. Thanasi had become dependent on his hotel director and key officers to schmooze them.
“We can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Thanasi interjected, slapping his palm against the brig’s wall. “This is the high seas and there is no established protocol to follow. Either you tell us your name and cabin number or we’ll go through your pockets and find out who you are ourselves. What will it be?”
The man gulped. A reaction at last. He was of slender build, and had a wild-eyed look as if he hadn’t slept in a couple of days. Thanasi thought he might be one of the professional dancers.

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