Sweetly Contemporary Collection - Part 2 (Sweetly Contemporary Boxed Sets)

by Jennifer Blake

  “Have I met his wife?” Maura asked with a frown. “I can’t remember being introduced last night at his table, but there were quite a few people seated with us.”

  “No, I think not,” Mrs. Papoulas answered. “Katrina is to have a new brother or sister in a few weeks, and Madame Spiridion has been keeping to their quarters.”

  Nikolaos leaned back in his chair. “I see you have been putting your time to good use, catching up on all the gossip.”

  “Yes, indeed,” the older woman answered. “This afternoon I attended a tea for the grandmothers. There was much showing of photographs, reams and reams of pictures of babies and adorable children. It is a good thing I could claim some knowledge of Katrina, or I would have had nothing whatever to say.”

  “Not so. I am your grandchild, after all,” he reminded her. “Don’t tell me you didn’t have a snapshot of me about you.”

  “Well, yes,” the older woman admitted grudgingly, “but you have lost your charm, I must tell you. You cannot compete with the sweetness of an infant in arms.”

  “You wound me to the quick,” he protested in a tone of mock injury.

  “I am sorry, Nikolaos, but the truth is the truth. If you would redeem yourself, you must give me great-grandchildren.”

  He sent her a wry look. “All in good time, grandmother, all in good time.”

  “So you keep telling me, but how much time do I have?”

  “I forbid you to say such things,” Nikolaos said, his smile fading.

  “Forbid as you please; I will still say what I wish. And for your stubbornness, I will not ask you to dance the first waltz with me. I will allow Maura to have that dubious honor and see if she can endure your selfish ways!”

  “That will suit me admirably,” he bantered. “Anything to get away from your complaints.”

  The announcements were over, the rules of the games explained. The musicians were just striking up the first number. There was no graceful way to avoid the trap Mrs. Papoulas had so playfully set for her. With a strained smile, Maura rose to her feet, and led Nikolaos toward the dance floor.

  As she turned to face him, Nikolaos moved with a casual resumption of the dominant role to draw her into his arms. His hold was firm and steady, close but not too close. Their bodies fitted together in perfect unison and they moved as with one accord.

  Maura lifted her green gaze to his bronzed face, an odd, breathless sensation in her chest.

  “My grandmother is a devious woman,” he said, a smile glinting in the dark depths of his eyes, “but occasionally she has a superior idea.”

  Maura managed a cool nod. “I think you will have to allow her to ask you for the next dance, though, or she will be disappointed.”

  “She does seem to be having a good time. I would never have thought it would appeal to her.”

  “It is a little surprising,” Maura agreed.

  “What about you? Are you liberated enough to enjoy doing the asking for a change?”

  “I wouldn’t know. I haven’t had the opportunity yet.”

  “So you haven’t,” he agreed, his tone stiff. “That will have to be arranged.”

  “It seems to me,” Maura went on, “that a liberated female would not be satisfied with a night of change. She would prefer to suggest dancing, if she felt like it, at any time.”

  “I haven’t noticed you making suggestions of any kind.”

  “That’s because I may be more than a little old-fashioned.”

  “You may be? Don’t you know?”

  “I know very well, but I see no reason why I should explain myself to you.”

  “You are quite right; there is no reason,” he answered with hard abruptness.

  They did not speak again. When the dance was over, Maura preceded him back to their table where he was immediately claimed by Mrs. Papoulas as the next was announced.

  At that moment, Alexandros strolled into the lounge. His bright gaze swept the tables and came to rest on Maura. His expression expectant, he moved toward her. It was sheer contrary defiance that made her smile and step to meet him, ready to speak the invitation he wanted to hear.

  The dance was a rhumba, and there were a few hilarious moments as Alexandros tried to show Maura the proper movements while searching for the correct English word for a lady’s hips. The ridiculousness of it was evident to him, and his laugh rang out with an infectious sound. As Maura’s clear tones joined his, heads turned and a number of the other dancers grinned in enjoyment of the fun and gaiety of the moment.

  There was one person who did not. The face of Nikolaos Vassos was like a mask as he led his grandmother flawlessly through the intricate steps of the Latin number.

  Alexandros would not allow Maura to retreat to her table. With the simple expedient of retaining his hold on her hand and giving her a pleading look, he kept her at the edge of the dance floor for the few seconds that elapsed before the third dance was called. It was a polka, and though Alexandros threw himself into it with verve and rhythm, he did not have the height to prevent her from being jerked this way and that as he tried to keep up with the lively music. Maura was completely breathless when it was ended. She was fervently glad when a teenage girl tapped Alexandros on the shoulder, soliciting his company for the disco being announced, permitting Maura to wind her way back to where Nikolaos and his grandmother sat.

  Regardless, there was little comfort for her in being free of Alexandros. He continued to wink and blow kisses over his partner’s shoulder, shrugging in resignation, and generally drawing unwelcome attention to Maura. She shook her head at him but without visible result.

  “You seem to have captivated that young officer,” Mrs. Papoulas commented.

  “I doubt that,” Maura answered in an attempt at lightness. “He’s only enjoying himself.”

  “It is rather fun, isn’t it?”

  Maura gave her a bright glance. “You still haven’t danced with your widower.”

  “It’s just as entertaining to sit and watch, my dear, at least when you get to my age.”

  That was true, regardless of age. It was amusing to watch the reluctant men being pulled onto the floor, and the laughing aggression of the woman who insisted they come. It was also comical to see Alexandros become entangled with a bevy of excited girls, none of them over eighteen. Try as he might, he could not run the gauntlet of their clutching hands to return to Maura’s table. Though he flung more than one look of exasperated entreaty in her direction, she refused to allow him to catch her eye, keeping her attention on the desultory conversation between Nikolaos and his grandmother.

  “Don’t you want to dance again?” Mrs. Papoulas asked as other dances were announced.

  Each time, Maura shook her head. “Not just yet.”

  At last the elderly woman said, “According to the program, Maura, this is the last dance, coming up. Now I think it would be a shame if you don’t take advantage of it. If you don’t want to ask some stranger, I’m sure Nikolaos would be happy—”

  “Grandmother,” Nikolaos began, the harsh sound of a warning in his voice, “if Maura is tired—”

  Across the room, Alexandros had finally broken free of his young partners. With a swagger in his stride and the complacent certainty of being welcome in his face, he bore down on Maura. The thought of dancing with the officer again seemed suddenly more than she could bear.

  “Not at all,” she broke in hurriedly. “Nikolaos, would you care to dance?”

  His brows were drawn together in a dark line as he came slowly to his feet. “This isn’t necessary.”

  Flicking a quick glance from Nikolaos to Alexandros, only yards away, she said, “I think it must be.”

  The look of sudden doubt and disbelief on the face of the officer as they passed near him on the way to the floor troubled Maura, but she forgot him as she stepped into Nikolaos’s arms. The feeling of rightness and relief, and something more that she refused to explore, was so startling that it drove all other consideration from her
mind. Her absorption was such that the master of ceremony’s announcement that each couple then on the floor had an appointment to meet at midnight on the lido deck barely registered. She was grateful when at last the music stopped, and Mrs. Papoulas, pleading tiredness, brought the evening to an end.

  Maura went to her cabin, but she could not make up her mind to undress and go to bed. She felt restless, on edge. She took out the information on Grand Cayman, their next port of call, that she had picked up at the purser’s desk and thumbed through it, making a few notes on points of interest she should see. That done, she took out a pen and one of the ship’s postcards showing the MTS Athena at anchor in a tropical bay. Scribbling a few lines for her great-aunt, she stamped the card and put it to one side to mail in the morning. It would probably reach New Orleans after she did, as slow as the mails were, but Aunt Maggie would like to have it.

  A schedule of events for the next day had been slipped under the door while she was above deck. She opened it, and scanned the listings. The ship did not dock at Grand Cayman until noon. There would be time enough in the morning for a swim and a little sunbathing. That was, of course, if she skipped the yoga class, the trap shooting, the Greek dance lesson, the Greek language lesson, and the bingo session.

  Smiling a little, she shook her head. Everything about the cruise might not be perfect, but the line and the crew made every effort to keep the passengers entertained.

  Take, for instance, the dancing this evening. The cruise director and his assistant had done their best to keep affairs moving. They had really done an excellent job of seeing to it that the evening ended on a lighthearted note. How many, she wondered, would keep the midnight rendezvous that had been set for them?

  She would feel ridiculous, setting out for such an assignation. It would, in any case, be a waste of her time, because Nikolaos Vassos would never dream of putting in an appearance. So much for the romance Aunt Maggie had been certain she would find.

  There was no harm in going up to see how many others showed up for the date though, was there? It might make an interesting observation for the books. At the same time, maybe the fresh air would clear her mind, blow away the clinging wisps of cobwebs and vague longings that disturbed her peace.

  The lido deck was virtually deserted. Though one or two people stood at the railing, most had gone to the lido bar, for through the long glass windows could be seen a fair number of people milling about, dancing to music with a disco beat, or sitting over drinks. Maura could not bring herself to go inside. Instead, she climbed the steps that led to the Plexiglas-enclosed observation area.

  It was darker here without the light from the bar and protected by the weather-streaked Plexiglas from the glow of the running lights. Maura strolled across the shuffleboard court to the far railing. The wind could just strike her there, ruffling the skirt of her gown and lifting the ends of her hair. At the same time, she could overlook the lido deck below without being seen herself.

  They were cruising at full speed, Maura thought, no doubt trying to make up the time they had lost. The froth of their wake gleamed white in a spreading tail, and the hiss of the water could be plainly heard as they cut through the waves. The rumble of the engines was a steady drone. The black smoke of their exhaust was scattered as it left the blue and white stack above her, merging quickly with the night sky.

  There came the sound of a door closing behind her. She turned in time to see Nikolaos emerge from the area beyond the Plexiglas shield, marked with a No Admittance sign, that led to the captain’s quarters. He had removed his coat and tie and rolled his sleeves above his elbows. It gave him a look that was casual, relaxed, and at the same time, more virile.

  He came to a halt beside her, bracing one hand on the rail while he left the other pushed into the pocket of his trousers. “So you came,” he said. “I didn’t think you would.”

  “I — never expected to see you.” The wind fluttered the cream lace of her skirts against him, and she reached to hold them back.

  “Ah, Maura,” he whispered, removing his hand from his pocket, reaching to touch the cool skin of her shoulder, “how could I fail you?”

  “Fail me?” she repeated, her voice a thread of sound.

  “If it is romance you need, why should I not provide it?”

  He drew her to him with slow care. His mouth touched hers with gentle fire as he pressed her closer. The warmth of his body enveloped her. Her senses reeled, and she seemed caught in the ebb and flow of her own pulse, aware at the same time of the deep and steady beat of his heart.

  He drew back, but did not release her. As she felt her treacherous strength return to her, she spread her fingers over the muscled hardness of his chest, increasing the tension until he felt her resistance and allowed her to step back. She lifted her head, her green eyes dark with self-knowledge as she met his dark gaze.

  “Romance by itself,” she said softly, “is not enough.” Turning quickly, she left him.

  Five

  A knock sounded on the cabin door. Maura went still for an instant, then drawing a deep breath, she finished tying the apricot satin-jersey wrap skirt that went over her swimsuit as a cover-up. Moving to the panel, she pulled it open.

  It was Alexandros who stood outside. Relief made her greeting more cordial than it might have been otherwise. She had been afraid it was Nikolaos seeking her out, coming to discover why she had not appeared at the breakfast table this morning.

  “Good morning, Maura,” the officer said, his smile not quite so engaging as usual. “Could I speak to you?”

  It did not seem wise to invite him inside. “Certainly. I was just going up to the pool. Let me get my things, and I’ll be right with you.”

  They moved down the corridor of the lower deck, passing the beauty salon where through the open door they could see the hairdressers at work in the sleekly modern interior.

  Maura glanced at Alexandros. Her nerves tightened as she saw his troubled expression. “It looks as though we are going to have another gorgeous day.”

  Her attempt at a light tone went unnoticed. “Yes.”

  “Will we reach Grand Cayman on schedule?”

  He nodded. “That is no problem. The passengers will go ashore at one o’clock, as usual.”

  “We have made up the time we lost during the first night then?”

  “Yes.”

  There seemed no help for it. She was going to have to hear him out. “What was it you wanted to speak to me about?”

  The passageway they were treading was empty for the moment. He stopped, turning to face her. “It is this. I thought you liked me, Maura. We had a good time at Cozumel, did we not? You smiled only for me yesterday. Then last night after two dances, you left me. You did not ask again. The last dance of the night you gave to Kyrios Vassos, that is, to Mr. Vassos. What is wrong?”

  “I do like you, Alexandros,” she said with care, “but I have known you only a short time.”

  “Have you known Nikolaos Vassos longer?”

  “No, not really,” she was forced to admit.

  “Then what is he to you, that you are always with him?”

  “His grandmother has been a friend to me, since I am alone on this ship.”

  “It was not his grandmother you asked to dance with you last night!”

  “No,” she answered, unable to prevent her rising irritation with his aggrieved tone. “But Alexandros, you have no right to question me. I have promised you nothing. We have spent a little time together, and as you say, we have had fun; still, that’s all. There is nothing more between us.”

  In her need to make him understand, she had reached out to place her fingers on his arm. Immediately, he covered them with his hand. “Maura, my heart, you are so lovely. I am so proud to be with you. I want there to be more for you and me. I want—”

  He broke off as a man and woman came out of their cabin a few yards away. Maura drew her hand from his grasp, and turning, began to walk once more.

  “I’m
sorry, Alexandros,” she said quietly as he fell into step beside her. “I never meant for there to be anything serious in my being with you. I was being friendly, getting to know someone from another country. That’s all.”

  “I understand that,” he said, gesturing with one hand in frustration, “but the time is so short. Soon you will be gone.”

  “And there will be another girl. You must see different girls every week.”

  “None like you,” he told her, his voice distant.

  She sent him a quick look as they climbed the stairs. “I’m more flattered than I can say that you think so, but I doubt it.”

  “You refuse to believe me, to hear what I am saying.”

  “No, no I don’t. I can’t help it if I can’t — can’t feel the way you want me to feel.”

  “All right. All right, then,” he said as they reached the promenade deck. “I must have patience. Will you meet me in the lido bar tonight after dinner? I will be off duty then, and we can talk.”

  “Alexandros, I’m not sure—”

  “I will look for you,” he said firmly, and taking her hand, pressing it, he strode to the outside door, pushed through it, and headed for the stairs that led to the bridge.

  Maura shook her head. Nikolaos had tried to warn her. She should have paid more attention, but who would have thought matters could become so complicated in such a short time? Though she searched her mind, she could think of nothing she had done to give Alexandros any reason to suppose he could monopolize her time. It was amazing to her that, with as many young women as he must meet, he should not have learned to take these shipboard meetings with a light attitude. In this day and age there must be any number of girls who would be delighted to be swept into sudden, short-lived intimacy. If one would not play along, there was always another. She could not delude herself, despite what he had said, that she was so different — different enough to turn his mind to thoughts of a more permanent relationship. Perhaps the problem was her disinclination to succumb to his charm. If there were pride and some sort of shipboard reputation to be protected, as Nikolaos had hinted, then might the idea not be to see how quickly and completely she could be captivated, and that in its most physical sense?