Two if by Sea

by Marie Carnay

  Damon agreed. “Never.”

  Chapter 4

  DAPHNE

  “Hi, I’m Daphne Meadows, I’m supposed to have a starboard side room.” Daphne managed a bland smile for the woman behind the check-in desk. It was better than the shock and awe she’d been wandering around with ever since leaving Damon and Tony.

  The woman typed into her computer and glanced up with a frown. “I’m sorry, it looks like we’ve had a bit of a delay. Your room won’t be ready for another hour. But according to this, you have a spa appointment in… five minutes. Let me show you the way.”

  The clerk steered her toward the elevator bank and left her standing there with a comforting pat on the shoulder. Do I look that shell shocked? The elevator opened and Daphne stepped inside.

  In a matter of hours, her day had gone from hectic to terrible to batshit crazy. Could she really stay there without Rachel? On a singles cruise? Could she really have dinner with the owners of the cruise ship and maybe… more?

  She still didn’t understand what they wanted from her. Was she a pet project like what’s-her-face in Mean Girls? She would go to the spa, walk out a supermodel and their work would be done. Not likely. If she were a betting sort of woman, she’d guess they only wanted to get in her pants.

  Maybe it was some testosterone-fueled competition and whoever scored first won. From the looks of them, they had to be jocks in college. Football players? Soccer? Daphne thought back to her dreams of east coast colleges and their tri-fold brochures. All the places she’d wanted to escape to when she was young.

  A contest made sense. You could take the man out of the sport, but he never lost the drive. She’d seen it in so many celebrities. The high stakes investments. Gambling. She snorted as the elevator slowed. Hate to disappoint you boys, but you’ll both lose this one.

  The doors opened and Daphne’s mouth fell open for the umpteenth time since stepping on board the cruise liner. When they said spa, they weren’t kidding.

  Complete with marble columns, gentle waterfalls and staff decked out in fancy white uniforms, Daphne was pretty sure that this spa rivalled ones that her high flying clients frequented. She’d heard about these sorts of places from her clients, but she’d never gone to one. Sure, she’d had manicures—looking presentable at all times was a part of the job. But to go to a spa and actually be pampered? Her salary didn’t afford that.

  Hell, with LA’s cost of living, all she could manage was a studio apartment and a ten-year-old Jetta. She’d been working at Hopkins PR for five years. She’d planned on making partner in seven. But now… just the thought of the office and her career plans made her insides flip. She didn’t know what to do anymore.

  The woman behind the front desk ushered her forward. “Hello, welcome to Spa Stardust. Do you have an appointment?”

  “I think so.”

  “Name?”

  “Daphne Meadows.”

  The woman’s eyes widened as she looked her up and down. “Yes. Right this way. You have a massage first; I hope that’s all right.”

  “Sounds dreamy.”

  “After that it’s a manicure and pedicure and then hair and makeup.”

  Daphne cocked her head. “Hair and makeup?”

  “We have a full service salon as well.”

  She’d never considered such a thing. Someone else do her hair? She reached up and tugged a curl.

  “We’ve got one of the best stylists, she’ll know exactly what to do. You’ll love her.”

  “Could I get a haircut, too?”

  The woman smiled. “Anything you want, we can accommodate.”

  Wow. “Which way?”

  The woman pointed her toward the changing rooms and Daphne hurried inside. The place was incredible. Everywhere she looked was gleaming teak wood and smooth polished stones. Calm music and mood lighting completed the effect. She could stay in there forever. The changing room alone was an escape from her life. But the thought of a massage made her jump into her robe faster.

  An hour and half later and she’d been rubbed and pampered until she’d fallen asleep on the table. Now she understood why celebrities came to places like this.

  She peeled her body off the table, wrapped herself up in a robe and padded into the nail area. She eased herself into a mani-pedi chair and a nail tech waved hello.

  “Hi, I’ll be your technician today.” A perky woman with bright eyes and kind smile sat down. “Do you have anything in mind?”

  Daphne hesitated. She never could afford the nice styles. “Can you do something classic? A French manicure, maybe?”

  “Of course. Just lay back and relax.”

  Daphne did as she was told and rested her head on the cushioned headrest. A few minutes later, voices woke her up. A pair of women filled the seats next to her.

  “I’m telling you they pick one on every cruise.”

  “You’d think they would have girlfriends. Especially the tan one. What is he, Italian? Mmm.”

  Daphne frowned. Were they talking about Tony and Damon?

  The plump blonde leaned toward her friend and Daphne strained to keep listening. “Maryann said they’re sex fiends. All they want are threesomes with one woman. And they do everything, if you know what I mean.”

  The brunette with tortoiseshell glasses giggled. “I’d do anything they asked if I got to live like a princess for a week. I heard their suite has a spa bathroom and a twenty-four-hour butler.”

  The blonde leaned back. “I heard it has wall-to-wall mirrors so they can see themselves from every angle.”

  Daphne scooted down in her chair. This can’t be happening. If they were talking about Damon and Tony, she’d made a huge mistake. No way was she going to be their plaything for a week. Dinner, okay. Dancing? She’d entertained the idea.

  Romping around in their suite while they used her to satisfy some crazy fetish? A thrill rushed through her, but she pushed it aside. She couldn’t. She mustn’t. If she wanted to salvage her PR career and make partner, she needed to stay on the right side of the line.

  Having sex with two men at the same time was way, way over it.

  The blonde interrupted her thoughts. “Cindy said they already asked for some girl. A tiny little redhead with more hair than hips.”

  “Ugh. That’s got to be a mistake. No way would they go for a scrawny chick. I bet they want someone with curves.” The brunette shimmied her hips and Daphne pouted inwardly.

  I do not have more hair than hips. She tucked a wayward lock back into the towel around her head and pretended not to listen. It was just like PR. People always assumed the worst. Well, too bad. She wasn’t going to be fodder for the gossip mill.

  As soon as the tech finished, she’d pack it up, go find her room, and demand to get off. The boat, that is.

  As the tech stood up to go fetch more polish, the woman closest to her chair turned and smiled. “I’m sorry to bother you, but my friend and I are wondering, you don’t know anything about the owners of the ship, do you?”

  Daphne paled. Had they sussed her out already? She channeled her press conference face. “No. I just heard about the cruise and it sounded like fun. Who are they?” Her words came out perky and excited, but inside her heart hammered for a whole other reason. Anger.

  The woman giggled. “I heard they throw these parties every year just so they can bag a hot chick for a week. They wine her and dine her and do the nasty all night.” She leaned closer. “All three of them together.”

  Daphne plastered on a conspiratorial grin. “Ooh, tell me more. Have you ever seen them? What are their names?”

  The brunette piped up. “Damon’s the surfer boy, an all-American type. Tony’s European. Think sultry and dark. Rumor has it they’ve been doing this for years.”

  Daphne swallowed and wished she could dig her nails into her palm. “I’ll have to keep my eye out. I wouldn’t want to be cornered by them.”

  The blonde scrunched up her face. “Why not? I’d do anything to have two guys like
them at my beck and call.”

  “Me, too! If you don’t want them, more chance for us!”

  The women laughed and Daphne’s smile faltered. Tony and Damon weren’t just rich guys out for some fun. They were total players who took advantage of their position to land a woman in bed. One bed to share.

  Daphne exhaled in relief when the tech came back. No way could she ever be that girl.

  The other women fell back into conversation with each other, gossiping about all the people they’d met and the guys they wanted to kiss. Daphne tuned it all out.

  Thirty minutes later, she headed out of the spa.

  “Ms. Meadows, just a moment!” The woman from the front desk hustled up to her. “What about hair and makeup?”

  Daphne couldn’t fake it anymore. “I’m sorry, but I’m not interested. I need to find my room.”

  “The concierge delivered your room key. It’s back at my desk.”

  Of course it is. Daphne nodded and reluctantly followed her back inside.

  The woman handed her a small black folder with a key card inside. “Everything’s all set for you. If you change your mind about hair or makeup, just give us a call. We’ll be ready.”

  Daphne nodded. “Thanks.”

  “I hope you have a lovely vacation.”

  She walked out of the spa and flipped the folder open as she pushed the elevator button. Room P23. Where on earth is that?

  She stepped into the elevator and examined the buttons. P sat by itself, next to a key reader. Daphne waved the keycard in front of it and the button lit up. Odd. She didn’t remember the ship having that kind of security before.

  Whatever. The doors opened and she stepped out into the hall before following the signs to her room. The hallway stretched on and on, the doors seemingly further and further apart. Images of Alice in the hallway that never ended popped into her mind. Too bad she wasn’t interested in any white rabbits anymore.

  At last she found 23. The keycard lit the panel in green and Daphne pushed the door open and her jaw fell along with it. It wasn’t the teeny, tiny, barely enough room for a bed, room she’d booked. Not even close.

  She walked into the living room and gawked at the wall-to-wall windows. The ocean stretched for miles in every direction and the setting sun turned it crimson and gold. A low leather couch flanked an electric fireplace and rich rugs covered the gleaming wood floor.

  Gone was the tiny berth, hello, penthouse suite. P, of course. Daphne laughed at her own naiveté. She should have known they’d do something like this.

  Daphne rushed down the hall and threw open doors. Two bedrooms and a bathroom fit for a queen. She pushed open the last door and stuttered to a stop. A black, floor-length dress hung on a rack in front of a king-sized bed. She walked up to it.

  A deep V sliced through the bodice and a brooch of glittering stone held the two sides together. She brushed over the clasp with her fingers. Those can’t be diamonds.

  Pinned to the hanger was a handwritten note. Dinner’s at eight, please wear this. Next to the dress sat an open bottle of champagne and a glass. Until then, enjoy yourself, said the paper coaster beneath the glass. She shook her head. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe she was Alice lost in some crazy, made-up world.

  Daphne shivered. All she needed now was a Red Queen to scream, off with her head!

  She walked back to the living room and found her purse. It had been way too long since she’d checked her phone. She scrolled through her emails, searching for anything from work. Anything to give her a reason to leave. There were none. She’d done too good of a job dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s before she left. No one needed her for seven days.

  She walked back into the bedroom and picked up the champagne. The pale liquid popped and fizzed as she poured it into the glass.

  As she set the bottle down, the ocean caught her eye. Endless waves, blue skies fading to pink and orange as the sun set. No one around for miles. She could get used to that.

  Damon and Tony sailed around the world with a boat full of people who cared little for decorum and less for rules. She worked in an office in Los Angeles following every rule in the book. They couldn’t be more different.

  She could hear the head of HR now. Everyone expects salacious stories, Daphne. We must project excellence and propriety. Class and sophistication. One look at you and the reporters’ questions should die on their tongues.

  Then Mr. Hopkins had gone and used her for her body. Five years she’d worked for that asshole to get treated like a piece of meat. Did he even plan to make her partner? Ever?

  She swallowed a mouthful of champagne and the bubbles tickled her throat. Delicious. Never in her wildest dreams would the Daphne of a week ago entertain the idea of two men and one bed.

  But Hopkins’ words had cut deep. Those girls in the spa had made it worse. She closed her eyes and thought of the way Tony had looked at her…The touch of Damon’s fingers on her skin. Men didn’t come into her life very often.

  Maybe it was time she changed that. She could start with dinner.

  Daphne drained the glass and picked up the phone. “Hello, it’s Daphne Meadows in room P23. About the hair and makeup appointment? I’ve changed my mind.”

  Chapter 5

  TONY

  The security video rewound and Tony watched it again. “How long has this been going on?”

  “I’m not sure, sir. I’d have to go back through the tapes to confirm. Since the beginning of this cruise, without a doubt.”

  Tony glanced over at the head of security. They’d hired Jenkins based on Trent’s recommendation. At first, Tony had balked at the idea. Didn’t they have security covered?

  But when he explained the issues Ian’s shipping business had been having with bootleggers and modern-day pirates, Tony caved. They didn’t need those kinds of problems on a cruise line.

  So far, Jenkins had been living up to his reputation. He was good with the security staff, and excellent at predicting problems before they started. He’d even done some extra training on diffusing rowdy crowds without force.

  This problem was new. Sure, they’d had usual drunk jerks pushing too hard. Guys getting too grabby at mixers and bars. That’s why they had a huge security staff and enough drunk tanks to fill half a floor. But a thief? Never.

  Tony hit the play button and watched a fourth time.

  The man wore a hoodie pulled low to cover his face, but the gait struck Tony as familiar. He had his suspicions. There weren’t many people who knew their way around the stock rooms. It had to be a bartender or a manager. Someone who worked the places liquor was served.

  What the guy planned on doing with cartons of the stuff, Tony hadn’t a clue. They were hundreds of miles from any port. It’s not like the guy could load it onto a row boat and paddle into the sunset. The weight would sink the boat by morning.

  Despite the stupidity, there he was on screen, carting off cases of vodka and rum and tucking them into an unused utility closet. It didn’t make sense.

  He turned to Jenkins. “Have someone go through all the tapes for the past year. I want to identify this man. I want times dates for all of his thefts. Any accomplices.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And Jenkins?”

  “Yes?”

  “I want him caught.”

  “Yes, sir.” The head of security strode out of the room and Tony turned back to the screen. He typed in a few codes and shots of the hallways and spa appeared. He scrolled back in time until he found her.

  Daphne.

  She’d left the spa agitated, her fingers drumming on her arms as she waited for the elevator. Tony frowned. The spa was meant to loosen her up. Make her want to stay.

  If she hated it, what chance did they have of her showing up for dinner?

  He cursed to himself. Women didn’t do this to Anthony Gareaux. Was it the fire-colored hair or the rosy lips and cheeks? The just-enough curves or her ‘back-off, buddy’ attitude?

  No. It
was the whole package. The way she sized him up the minute they shook hands. How she slipped on a perfect smile that hid everything behind a mask. He wanted to tear that mask away and see the real Daphne Meadows. The woman underneath all those proper clothes and direct words.

  The one who had shivered when he touched her. She wanted him, she just needed to admit it.

  Escorting her off the ship in the morning wouldn’t do. He wanted her naked and moaning in his bed that very night.

  Tony fast forwarded the video until he hit real time. Tick, tock. Tick, tock. The seconds sped by and he chewed on his cheek. He checked his watch and smoothed his hair. She should have left ages ago to make it to dinner on time.

  As he reached out to shut the live feed off, her door opened. Tony’s world lurched like the ship had run aground. Long black dress. Hair piled up on top of her head. Diamonds glittering between her breasts.

  Daphne was one gorgeous woman and he needed to haul ass to the restaurant. He had a dinner date.

  * * *

  DAMON

  “You don’t think she’ll stand us up, do you?” Damon dragged his glass of scotch around on the lacquered table and watched the entrance to the restaurant.

  “Relax. She’ll be here any minute now.” Tony leaned back in the booth like he didn’t have a care in the world.

  Even after all these years, Damon had never understood the man’s confidence. No matter what was going on, Tony always acted as if he’d planned the whole thing. “Don’t you care whether she shows up?”

  “Of course I care. I told you, she’s coming.”

  “Fine.” Damon finished his drink in a single gulp. Alcohol would take the edge off. He motioned for the waitress to bring him another when a blonde with fake boobs and too much lip filler bounced up to the table.

  Great. Just what they needed.

  “Hi!” She flashed them a mini wave and smashed her breasts together with her arms. “Are you guys here alone?”

  Damon snorted. He knew what she was after. “Let me guess, you want to know who we are.”