Reaching the suite, she opened the door with her own key and looked around. No one was inside. That was a blow. Okay, so what next?
A shower. She’d take a shower and pray Cory came back before the water turned ice-cold. He might even want to join her.
The shower was the most luxurious she’d ever seen. She’d been in suite number one before, but only a couple of times, and both times to give a straight massage to the female occupant, who said she suffered from back pain. Now she could make free with the room and the shower, and she intended to do so for the rest of the voyage. Another couple of days and they’d hit New York, and she’d be at Cory’s side.
She opened the door to the bedroom and stood frozen to the spot. The suite wasn’t unoccupied, after all. Two people lay in the large bed, the white cover thrown back to reveal their sweat-slicked, passion-filled bodies.
Cory lay on top of someone, and as she watched, he withdrew from her body and turned around, not at all embarrassed by his erect cock or his partner. Who was she?
The other person turned around and Rosanna’s throat went dry. It was Adam Wheeler, Cory’s secretary.
And, it seemed, his lover.
Rosanna stared at the two men until Cory swung his legs off the bed and went toward the bathroom, throwing over his shoulder, “Explain to her, Adam, will you?”
Just as if it were a normal occurrence!
She was shocked out of her wits. Adam didn’t try to hide his nudity. Instead, he sat up in the rumpled sheets and rested his elbows on his knees. “You can’t be that innocent, Rosanna.”
She felt herself tremble, but braced herself, and walked forward. “Tell me, then.”
“Cory’s going for mayor of New York.”
“I know that.”
“What’s his stance for that?”
Rosanna thought back to the conversations she’d had with Cory over dinner. “Family values.”
“Exactly.” Adam waved a hand around vaguely as she heard the shower come on. Cory hadn’t even looked at her as he crossed the room. It hurt. “Cory’s bringing back family values. He’s denounced several special interest groups. We did the statistics, and picked the groups he had more chance opposing than going with. One of them is the gays.”
“He never—”
“Came out of the closet. No he didn’t. And he’s not going to. So what does he need? A wife. A pretty, complacent wife. One he’s rescued from the gutter; fallen madly in love with. It’s a great story.”
Everything in her revolted at the thought of watching Cory and his lover cavorting behind her back. Lovers were one thing, but homosexuality was a sin. Her priest had told her so. He’d give her penance for her many adulteries, but never, never would he forgive this.
“I thought Cory was Catholic.”
Adam shrugged. “There are Catholics and Catholics. Where have you been living for the last ten years or so? We chose you because you’re obviously a slut, but you’ve been discreet. If you carry on that way, you could find yourself a wealthy woman.”
Rosanna had sometimes wondered where she would draw the line. Now she knew. Acting as a front for a politician who had no intention of living up to the ideals he pretended to support. Raw power for its own sake. She had her standards. Rosanna never kidded herself. Her standards weren’t particularly high, but she did have them.
Cory Selhurst was a worm who had no standards at all.
But she could take advantage of this and still have extra money to spend. As well as look good in the press. If she played it right, she could have it all. Be the person to out Cory Selhurst. The media would pay her a fortune.
Her eyelids lowered and she gave Adam a sultry look, even though she knew it was wasted on him. “I don’t think I want to do this.”
“You’ve got no choice. You’re in it now. Time to face facts, Rosanna.”
Adam sounded so sure of himself, so smug, her anger rose before she had time to consider the facts. “I’m going to the press, Adam. They’ll pay me a fortune. I might even get the part of Rosanna Perez when it goes to Hollywood. Or I’ll have some real big star play me.”
Adam sat up suddenly and became instantly more intimidating. She’d forgotten just how strong and muscular he was, and he wasn’t exactly hiding any of those muscles at the moment. “You will not. There are already rumors. We decided on this as the best way to put a stop to them.”
Then she knew. She had them. She could go to the press, and the press would believe her because they suspected already. Rosanna could see herself on Nightline, telling Ted Koppel how she’d only agreed to marry Cory so she could expose him. She’d be a heroine.
Turning around, she wobbled to maintain her balance as her wet feet slid on the wooden floor. She felt Adam’s hands on her shoulders, but he wasn’t helping her, he was pushing.
With a whoosh, she fell forward. She held her hands out to break her fall, but a sharp pain arced through her skull and she couldn’t save herself any more.
***
“Lisa! Lisa!” Ignoring the cameras, frantic now, Michael broke the circle and took her by the shoulders. “Lisa, come back! Come back now!”
He’d lived through every moment with her, watched as Rosanna had discovered her fiancé in flagrante delicto with another man and then stupidly threatened them with exposure. His astonishment at Rosanna’s idiocy had held him rigid for a crucial moment, and he’d left her body, trying to pull Lisa with him. He’d failed. He watched Adam Wheeler take her shoulders and push her, an expression of absolute determination on his face.
He had to get Lisa out. She could die with Rosanna!
Holding on to her with every psychic faculty he had, he felt another pair of hands touch him, and he nearly shook them off before he realized who it was: Ayesha, entering into the vision to help him.
He needed her. That moment of hesitation had nearly cost him all he held dear in life, everything that was most precious to him. But Ayesha was there to add her strength to his.
Together they pulled Lisa clear of the vision. Lisa slumped forward.
“Wow.” That was from one of the security guards. It must have been quite a show, but Michael wouldn’t know what they’d seen until he watched the playback. He knew what he’d seen.
He stood and swept Lisa into his arms, lifting her away from the table. He didn’t need Ayesha’s muttered “get her out of this place” to know what to do. He didn’t put her down until he reached his quarters.
It wasn’t enough. They’d woken malevolence and it swirled around them, pressing closer all the time. The center of it all was Lisa. They wanted her back and they wanted her for keeps.
“No!” he cried to the world at large, feeling his reason slip.
Remember who you are, what you can do.
Mr. Smith spoke directly to him, mind to mind. No preamble, just those words. There was a barrier preventing Michael from tapping into anyone else’s energy, but he could talk to them.
He was a sensitive, a powerful one with special gifts. He could talk to the dead. He talked to them now.
There were many spirits on board this ship. People had died here, people had experienced their greatest joys here; they had lived on this great vessel. Not all were malevolent.
He called to them with every cell in his body, begged for their help. He couldn’t help Rosanna now. He could only help himself and Lisa.
Slowly, the malevolence receded and he could see, as clearly as if spotlights were directed on it, a path. A narrow path, but he could carry the still unconscious Lisa down it. He didn’t hesitate.
He followed the path, thanking the spirits who had come to his aid to overwhelm the ghosts of Cory Selhurst and Adam Wheeler. He headed for the reception area he’d entered a couple of days ago. It seemed like a lifetime since he’d seen it. The elevator winked at him, its night lights pleasantly dim. He stepped inside.
When the doors closed, he was effectively outside the ship. Lisa stirred in his arms and he gazed down at her, breathi
ng deeply to regain his equilibrium. The last thing he needed was for Lisa to wake up to panic.
She opened her eyes, the lashes fluttering down again and then up once more, and he was ready for her. “Hello, love.”
“Oh God!” To his relief she moved toward him, so he could clasp her tightly in his arms. He’d never let go.
The doors of the elevator slid open and he heard Mr. Smith again, clearer than before. Stay there. I’m sending a car. It should be with you in ten minutes.
***
Lisa stood on the dock staring up at the great bulk of the liner, her hand in Michael’s. If she had her way, she’d never let it go.
As if he’d heard her thoughts, he turned to smile at her. Of course he’d heard.
“Well,” she said, “it might be beautiful but you wouldn’t get me back on board for a million dollars.”
“Are you sure?” She knew he was joking, but still. “The footage will be amazing, the best we’ve ever had. I’m pretty sure production will ask for a repeat.”
She shook her head. “No way. I mean it.”
“Good,” he said. “Now that’s settled, there’s this.” He drew her into his arms and she went willingly, turning her face up for his kiss. “Where do you want to go on our honeymoon?”
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Although Lynne writes in more than one subgenre, it’s always romance. A strong believer in the happy ending, Lynne likes to explore the journey. Sometimes it’s all about getting there.
She has a number of publishers, but you can find all her books on her website.
She lives in the UK near Manchester, with her family and a grumpy, ageing cat, Jack. She travels to the US every year and has a wonderful time with friends and colleagues. She’s a member of the RNA, the HNS and a few other lettered bodies, but most of all, she sits at home and writes.
You can visit Lynne at:
http://lynneconnolly.com
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