In Time for Love (Timeless Love Book 1)

by Kessily Lewel

  She'd hung around her room, feeling washed out and listless for a few hours after waking, and then she'd made herself come up on deck to check out the view. It was breathtaking, but the vast open water had caused the surge of melancholy that she'd been fighting off. Something about all that emptiness made her feel so small, so lost. The loneliness had crept up on her.

  It was time, she decided, for a drink. She had a fully-paid beverage package and she intended to use it! If getting away from the memories at home wouldn't cheer her up, then maybe she could drink away her sorrows. People did that all the time; her parents, for instance, had never missed a chance to get wasted. It was because of them that she normally avoided drinking much at all, but hell, this was a vacation, and she had more reason than most to get drunk. Didn't she? She did.

  She hadn't realized how easy it was to get alcohol onboard a cruise ship. You almost couldn't avoid it, and she made no effort to do so. She headed for the tiki bar on deck, festooned with coconuts and island motif, and settled onto a high barstool. One of her sandals, new for the trip and slightly too big, slid off her foot and dropped to the deck, but she ignored it.

  "What can I get for you?" the bartender asked with some exotic accent she couldn't place. The number of accents she'd heard so far had been a surprise at first, but she enjoyed listening to them. Handsome and dark, the bartender leaned in and flashed her a brilliant white smile, every tooth perfect under a bushy mustache. His eyes glanced over her discretely, but she was fairly sure there was no interest there. He'd want to make her feel beautiful and desired for the tips. Christopher—always the full name, never shortened—had told her that the cruise lines hired people from all over the world and then worked them nearly to death on low wages, but it was worth it for the tips. All part of the ship etiquette he'd taught her in advance.

  "I'll have a…" She paused, undecided. She so rarely ordered alcohol that she had no idea what she should get. It didn't feel like a wine environment; she wanted something iced and fruity with a paper umbrella like she'd seen other passengers drinking. "I…wh-what do you recommend?" she asked tentatively, in a voice that sounded meek to her own ears.

  "Ah, well, the pina coladas are always popular with the ladies. Or perhaps a margarita?" he suggested. He gestured to a large board behind him. Dozens of drinks had been written out in multi-colored chalk, and she latched onto the first one that sounded interesting and ordered it.

  "Can I have a pineapple-lime margarita, please?" she blurted. She'd gotten so used to Christopher ordering for her that she was out of practice, but the bartender just gave her a sweet smile and turned to the blender to mix her concoction. It was frozen and filled with chunks of real fruit—exactly what she needed to ward off the heat of the day. She hadn't been entirely prepared for how hot it would be in comparison to the Denver weather that rarely made it over ninety, even at the height of summer. Beads of sweat rolled down her back under the loose sun dress she wore, and she was grateful for the shaded grass overhang of the bar that would keep her pale Irish skin from burning, even through the thick layer of sunblock. She'd have to build up her tolerance to the sun slowly, or she'd end up a giant freckle, or even worse, a glaring red color that would clash with her hair.

  She spun on her stool, putting her back to the bar so she could watch the people strolling by. Slowly sipping the sweet drink to avoid a headache, she let the alcohol do its work. And it worked fast; despite the light fruity flavor of the drink, there was some seriously strong liquor under it, and she was halfway through her third before she realized it. She felt suddenly lightheaded and set the tall glass down with deliberate care. She felt like shouting 'Whee' and spinning around and around on her seat, but she refrained from acting like a child.

  "Wow, these are strong!" she said to the bartender and then blinked because there was someone new behind the counter. Just as cute, just as smiley, but no mustache. Oh, well, she didn't like mustaches, anyway.

  "Yep, the customers like them that way," he laughed. "It's a good idea to eat something first or you get tipsy pretty quickly," he said. He looked a little concerned, probably wondering if he should cut her off, and if he'd have to deal with a belligerent guest if he did.

  Food. Oh. Yeah, that would have been a good plan. She'd eaten sometime the day before, she thought. Yes, for sure, she remembered grabbing a cheeseburger on the way to the airport for her flight, and she was pretty sure she'd eaten it. That would have been well over a full day ago, she realized. Christopher would be so mad. He'd—

  She cut that thought right off. Christopher would have been pissed, but what he wanted no longer mattered, because she was no longer his submissive. She, Katherine DeWitt, was a free woman who could do whatever she damned well pleased! But she didn't want to waste her first day on ship passed out in her room and the following day recovering from a hangover, so she decided that eating wasn't a bad idea. "You're right…" She paused to look at his name tag. "Tommy, I'm going to go to the buffet," she assured him as she slid off the stool with a bit of a wobble.

  She grabbed her glass with one hand, while she tried to slip her foot into her sandal, but she wasn't graceful on her best day and the combination of too much alcohol, a rolling ship, and not enough coordination sent her skipping sideways comically. It probably would have been an extremely unattractive bit of slapstick if it hadn't been for the fellow traveler who caught her by the elbow and spun her around, just in time to keep her from toppling.

  She felt the strong grip as things whirled by dizzily and, suddenly, she was being propped up against the barstool she'd just vacated. "You all right there, kid?" an amused masculine voice asked.

  She flushed with embarrassment, and her eyes darted up to his. "I'm fine," she said defensively. "I just lost my balance trying to get my stupid shoe," she insisted, pretending that there were no other factors involved.

  "So I saw. Let me help," he said firmly as he dropped to one knee in front of her without waiting for a response. His large hands grasped her ankle and lifted her foot to slide the sandal into place with one motion and then he was rising to steady her before she could respond. The flush on her cheeks darkened, and she stammered out a thank you that managed to sound like she was irritated, rather than just flustered.

  His eyebrow went up and his lips tightened as he looked down at her. He was almost a foot taller than she was, and she suddenly felt very nervous. "Sorry, I'm just embarrassed," she mumbled in apology, in case he'd thought she was being rude.

  "These island drinks are pretty strong, and if you're not used to them, they can get you into trouble," he said in a tone of warning. Somehow, he made a simple sentence sound like a lecture, and she felt herself reacting naturally and shrinking down into herself.

  Her eyes dropped to the deck floor, and she nodded. "I don't drink often," she admitted.

  "I heard you say you were headed to the buffet? Happens I was headed there myself; why don't I just escort you there?" he said. Again, it didn't really seem like a suggestion, because he'd grasped her arm very lightly and was turning her towards the line for the outdoor grill.

  "Wait, I need my drink," she protested, turning to reach back for the over-sized glass she'd set down. It was still half full, but the ice was melting rapidly in the heat.

  "Do you?" he asked. "Maybe you might want to hold off until you've got some food in your stomach," he said with a hint of firmness in his voice.

  "But I…" Her voice trailed off, and she frowned. Who the hell was he to tell her she couldn't have her drink? She'd paid for it, or at least, Christopher had, but that wasn't the point. She didn't even know this man.

  So why did she have an urge to say 'Yes, Sir' and comply? She bit her bottom lip, hesitating as she tried to remind herself that no one was the boss of her anymore. "I'd really like to finish it," she said nervously. It was about as defiant as she could manage in the face of overwhelming dominance, and she was positive her voice squeaked a little bit.

  That eyebrow stayed high up on hi
s forehead like it was stuck there with glue, but after a second, he chuckled. "Stubborn one, aren't you?" he said in a warmer voice filled with amusement. "Tell you what, why don't we get some food and have a seat, and we'll order you a fresh drink? Ice doesn't last long out on deck, and by the time we fill our plates, it's going to be warm or at least watery," he pointed out.

  She almost scowled in the face of such logic, but he was right. A quick glance towards the glass showed that the slush was already separating into layers and a puddle of perspiration had formed around the base. She wanted to insist on drinking it just to show him she could, but she'd look like an idiot if she did, and she knew it. She could tell by the amused tilt of his mouth that he knew exactly what was going through her head just then and was waiting to see what she'd do. "I guess you're right. Besides, I think I'm ready to try something different," she said with a tiny bit of rebellion in her voice.

  "That's the spirit; you could have a different drink every hour of the day and never try everything onboard. Though I'd stay away from the cucumber breeze, if I were you. Not sure who came up with the idea but it tastes like someone froze half of a salad…and not the good half."

  "Cucumber?" Her nose wrinkled, and she laughed. "I, no, I think I'll skip that one," she said firmly.

  They headed to the back of the queue and got in line. As they moved, he introduced himself. "Name's Jack. Jack Drake, and you are?"

  She was startled to realize that they hadn't even exchanged names yet. "Oh, sorry I-it's Katherine." She hesitated and then a warning about giving strangers too much information flashed through her mind and she stopped there without giving him her last name. Oddly, that almost seemed to please him, and he gave her an approving look as the conversation moved away from personal things, toward the trip itself.

  There wasn't much time for talking before they'd reached the food. She was surprised at how fast the line moved and how few people were eating, and she said so as she filled her plate with the standard outdoor fare—potato salad, a hot dog, and a cheeseburger. He piled his own plate high with some of everything, and her eyes widened in alarm as she worried about it toppling.

  "That's because there are two other buffets inside that run twenty-four hours a day, plus the casual dining restaurants and the formal dining room. So many places to eat that you never have to wait long. Didn't you notice last night or this morning?" he asked, distracted as he looked around and then headed towards an empty table. He must have had more grace than she possessed, because he managed to avoid spilling anything from his overloaded plate as he set it down.

  She followed behind him and was pleased to see that he'd chosen one with an umbrella for shade. If she was lucky, she might just make it through the first day without burning. She set her plate down and dropped lightly into the chair across as she replied, "Oh this is my first meal since I got onboard, but I've always heard that most people gain ten pounds on a cruise because there's so much to eat."

  He gave her a surprised look, freezing with his cheeseburger raised in one hand for a bite. "Didn't you board early yesterday afternoon? I know most people try to get here before the gates open."

  "Well, my plane was a little delayed, so the shuttle didn't bring me over until four, but, yes," she agreed as she delicately picked up her hot dog and took a small bite. She was always a little self-conscious about eating in front of people since her clumsiness tended to lead to spills and she ended up feeling like a slob. That wasn't the first impression she was going for, especially not while eating with such a handsome man.

  "Still, that's a long time not to eat. Not very healthy," he said disapprovingly. He looked her over as he chewed, swallowing before adding, "You don't look like you could stand to lose many meals, either."

  She flushed; the pink showed clearly against her pale skin and emphasized the sprinkling of freckles that dusted the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. It was kind of him to say but not true. Her weight tended to hover at about ten pounds over, and a whole week of sobbing through pints of ice cream definitely hadn't improved on that situation. Her determination to lose weight before the cruise so she'd look good in her bathing suit had fallen by the wayside, and if she was honest about it, she really hadn't made much progress on dropping a few pounds, even before she'd been dumped so abruptly.

  She floundered for what to say in response, pretending to be absorbed in her lunch while she tried to come up with something that didn't seem pathetic, because she really wasn't very good at taking compliments. "I…that's sweet. Thank you," she said finally.

  He snorted and shook his head. "It wasn't meant as a compliment," he said. "You don't want to start a trip off with unhealthy habits; you'll end up getting sick and missing all the fun."

  There was a fond, almost affectionate tone to the lecture that kept it from stinging as much as it might have, but still, he had no right to treat her like a child. Of course, she knew skipping all those meals was a bad idea, but it had mostly been nerves. "Thanks for the advice, but I'll be just fine," she said, only a hint of snippiness in her tone as she pushed the last bite of hot dog into her mouth and chewed angrily.

  He gave her a surprised look. "You're upset that I pointed it out? Sorry, if I come off as a little pushy; I realize we just met." He seemed about to say something else and then shrugged and went back to his meal.

  It left her feeling awkward and slightly confused about why. Truthfully, she'd missed more meals than he'd even realized, because she hadn't eaten since before getting on the plane, either, and in-flight meals were a thing of the past unless you were first class. So, it had been well over thirty hours since she'd eaten. It was hard to justify that with any reasonable explanation. She didn't eat much when she was nervous, and her stomach had been filled with butterflies about traveling alone, but there was the other reason, too.

  She liked food, especially desserts, and when she was sad, she tended to eat them in great quantity despite knowing she'd regret it later. She'd overdone it in the past week, and it had been on her mind that a couple days of fasting would help. Not that she expected to lose much, she just wanted to mitigate the further damage she'd do during the cruise. She'd played with the idea of skipping food every other day so she could eat as much as she wanted in between, but she knew she wasn't going to have the willpower to resist the constant temptation.

  Her burger quickly followed the hot dog, with bites of potato salad in between, and the combination did a lot for her mood and the dizziness. By the time she was finished eating, her attitude about being lectured was gone and she sat back in her seat to look at him while he worked methodically through his own meal. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone eat quite so much," she said with a faint tone of awe.

  He looked up, flashing her a grin. "Fast metabolism and a big appetite. I haven't missed any meals since I've been onboard, trust me," he said and then laughed at her expression. "I've always been like this. If I don't eat constantly, I end up thin as a rail."

  "I'm jealous," she sighed, looking down at herself. She wasn't fat, by any means, but her thighs were thick and her ass was a lot rounder than she liked. Though Christopher had loved her backside. "You have an ass made for spanking," he'd told her once while they lay in bed together. Her backside had been covered with the handprints to prove it.

  "Don't be. It's more of a hassle than you'd think. When I lose weight, I drop muscle, too, and that's not easy to rebuild. I learned, years ago, it was best to just keep up with steady meals and avoid the whole thing." He punctuated his words with a large bite of barbecued chicken.

  She snorted and shook her head. That was easy for him to say, but then, it was always easier for guys. They weren't held to the same standards, and she'd read that weight loss was a lot easier for them, too.

  He gave her an amused look but wisely concentrated on the rapidly diminishing pile of food instead of trying to convince her. She watched him, somewhat astonished that he had managed to eat so much so quickly and without spilling anything on himself
doing it. "You'd be aces in a professional eating contest," she commented wryly and again received a grin.

  How did his teeth manage to look so clean and white while he was tearing through barbecued meat? It was like magic, and she had to refrain from saying so, because she didn't want him to realize how closely she was examining him. She turned slightly in her chair, looking out across the deck so it wouldn't be so obvious, but she kept him in view at the corner of her vision.

  He was…handsome didn't seem exactly the right word. His face could almost have been called beautiful, if it wasn't for the ruggedness of his hard jaw line and the stubble that darkened it. His lips were full and sensuous, and his lashes were long enough to make any woman jealous. They surrounded his deep brown eyes in a thick fringe that made them seem bigger and more lustrous. It wasn't fair to waste those lashes on a guy when women would kill for them, she thought.

  She bit her lip, rolling it under as she watched him. Christopher was attractive but not like this. She'd always found him good-looking, but he was about ten years older than she was, and his low-energy office job had caused him to soften around the middle despite hitting the gym once or twice a week. It hadn't really mattered to her because his looks weren't what had attracted her to him in the first place, it was his dominance; but she couldn't help comparing the two men.

  Jack was definitely the winner when it came to looks, and even with his baggy t-shirt and long shorts, she could tell his body was lean and muscled under them. He looked like a runner. It pleased her because she used to love running, though she'd gotten out of the habit recently.

  He cleared his throat suddenly. "Like what you see?" he asked, chuckling at the mortified look she flashed him. At some point, he'd finished eating and turned his attention back to her and she'd been caught staring.

  "I…sorry. I didn't mean to stare," she said feebly.

  "Nothing wrong with a pretty lady looking," he said, and he returned the look with frank interest.