Back then, she had been the nerd everyone wanted to cheat off of in class but no one wanted to hang around with after the bell rang. In their eyes, not much had changed.
“I’m still the freak who has plenty of book smarts but no common sense.”
Why else would she allow herself to entertain the fantasy that someone like Amy could be interested in someone like her? She had been down that road before, and the journey had brought her nothing but heartache. She wasn’t ready—or willing—to make the same mistake.
She did wish she had been more forthcoming when Amy had asked her why she hadn’t enjoyed her last cruise, however, but she hadn’t known how to broach the subject. How was she supposed to tell someone who thought she had her act together that most of the people she grew up with thought she was a total loser?
Spencer could still hear the derisive laughter and the chants of “Kamikaze Collins” that provided the soundtrack for the worst night of her life. The night she had mistaken Summer’s concern for something else. The night she had tried to—
A knock on her stateroom door drew Spencer out of the past and back to the present. “Housekeeping.”
She opened the door to find a uniformed maid standing in the hallway.
“Would you like turndown service?”
“Sure. Why not? It’s all part of the experience, right?”
She stepped aside and allowed the maid to enter the room. She wasn’t in the mood for whimsical towel animals or mood lighting when she didn’t have anyone to help her appreciate either, but she didn’t want to prevent anyone from doing her job.
The maid went about her business with a practiced ease. Spencer watched from the other side of the room as the maid turned down the covers, placed candy and candles on the nightstand, and, with a few flicks of her wrist, folded a plain white towel into an elephant.
“Are you Spencer Collins?” the maid asked as she placed a flower in the elephant’s upraised snout.
“Yes. Why do you ask?”
“I was asked to give these to you.” The maid retrieved an envelope and a note from her cart. “Enjoy your evening.”
“You, too.”
After the maid softly closed the door behind her, Spencer examined the items she had left behind. The envelope bore the SOS Tour logo on the upper left corner. Someone had typed Riverboat Giveaway in the section usually reserved for the recipient’s address. Spencer flipped the envelope over and slid her finger under the flap. Inside, she found a voucher entitling the bearer to two discounted tickets for the Montpellier to Monaco cruise as well as a copy of the planned itinerary for the trip. The voyage wouldn’t cover much distance—less than four hundred nautical miles—but it seemed like the trip of a lifetime.
Spencer knew her parents would be over the moon when she gave them the prize she had won. She imagined slowly cruising along the Mediterranean Sea, dining in a chateau, walking the rows in a vineyard, or dressing up to spend an evening gambling in a glamorous casino. Instead of her parents, the images in her head were of her and Amy.
“Yeah. Like that would ever happen.”
Spencer stopped herself before her fantasy could go too far. What was it about cruise ships that made her start seeing things as she wanted them to be instead of how they really were? Amy was interested in her as a client. Nothing more. If Spencer had harbored any doubts about that, the note accompanying the voucher made it clear Amy was more interested in her business than she was in her.
Congratulations on winning the giveaway, the note read. I’m looking forward to seeing you and your guest on next year’s cruise. Spending eight days and seven nights in the south of France sounds incredibly exciting. If you would like to spend even more time in paradise, please be sure to stop by the reservations desk to book one (or both) of the vacation stretchers. Fancy a trip to Toulouse or Genoa? We can make your dreams come true.
Disappointed by Amy’s transparent efforts to convince her to spend extra money upgrading her trip, Spencer locked the voucher in the in-room safe and tossed the note aside. Some dreams, obviously, were meant to be just that.
* * *
Even though Amy was born almost a decade after the 1970s came to an end, she had always had an affinity for the time period. She wasn’t a fan of the often gaudy fashions, but she loved the music, the movies, and the live-and-let-live attitude that defined the Me Decade. She was living in what was commonly referred to as the Golden Age of TV, but most of the memory in her DVR was taken up by reruns of Maude, Fantasy Island, The Mary Tyler Moore Show, and The Love Boat. Some of the shows were groundbreaking classics, and some were cheesy relics, but she loved each one of them, dated references and all.
After she squeezed herself into a pair of bell-bottom jeans and a light blue halter top, she feathered her hair into a close approximation of the style Farrah Fawcett had made famous while she was chasing bad guys on Charlie’s Angels. She didn’t plan on arresting anyone tonight. She just wanted to lose herself in the music, forget about all her responsibilities, and have a good time while she danced her cares away. She doubted it would happen, but it was worth a shot.
Her growing attraction to Spencer was proving to be even more problematic than she had feared. Instead of focusing on fulfilling all her clients’ needs, she wanted to cater to only one. That was acceptable behavior for a personal assistant, not a cruise director.
Her priorities were shifting, her thoughts were jumbled, and her emotions were all over the place. She was filled with anticipation one moment, dread the next. She couldn’t wait to spend time with Spencer and hear about the exciting new things she had experienced that day, but she couldn’t stop wishing she could experience them with her.
“That’s not how it works,” she reminded herself. “SOS Tours employees aren’t allowed to sleep with clients. Like it or not, Spencer is a client, so you need to keep your hands—and everything else—to yourself.”
Her desire to establish some distance between herself and Spencer was the main reason she had asked one of the maids to deliver the voucher for the riverboat cruise instead of waiting for Spencer to stop by the office and pick it up herself. The note she had included with the voucher had been intentionally impersonal. She had cribbed a few lines from a marketing brochure and signed her name at the bottom of the page. She felt like a coward for doing so, and for deciding to have dinner in the buffet tonight instead of the main dining room, but she needed time to clear her head. She needed time away from Spencer.
The best way for her to resist temptation was to avoid it completely. There were only so many places she could hide on a ship, even one that held two thousand people, so she knew she would run into Spencer sooner or later. Given a choice, she’d go with later.
“I hope you got some beauty sleep,” Leanna said when Amy joined her and Breanna backstage for the first of two shows featuring four of the biggest divas from disco’s heyday. “I have a feeling tonight’s going to be a long one.”
“That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”
The more time she spent doing her job, the less time she’d spend thinking about the woman who could cause her to lose it.
* * *
Spencer didn’t know what to make of Amy’s no-show at dinner. Had work gotten in the way, or had she found something better to do?
“So much for our deal.”
She would hate missing out on the opportunity to spend the last night of the trip plying Amy with as much chocolate as she could find, but she hated the thought of missing out on a chance to spend some quality time with her even more. Even though several other women had shared the table with them last night, Amy had made her feel like she was the only one in the room. She wanted to feel that way again. Not just for a night or a week. She wanted to feel that way every day for the rest of her life.
One of her father’s favorite sayings was, “You’re old enough to know your wants won’t hurt you.” She wished he was here now so she could tell him how wrong he was. Because there was nothing
more painful than wanting something and knowing you weren’t able to have it. Wanting a relationship was one thing. Entering into one was another. How was she supposed to make someone else happy when she hadn’t been able to perform the same trick on herself?
She ate dinner mechanically. More out of necessity than hunger. The contrast between tonight’s desultory meal and the almost celebratory lunch she’d had that afternoon couldn’t have been starker. When she was done, she was tempted to call it an early night so she could wipe the slate clean and get a fresh start tomorrow, but she had promised Raq she would meet her and Bathsheba in the disco so Raq could teach her some of the line dances she had no idea how to perform. She knew all about the Bus Stop, the Texas Two-step, and the Boot Scootin’ Boogie. The Wobble, the Cupid Shuffle, and the Cha-Cha Slide? Not so much.
She hoped she wouldn’t make a fool out of herself when Raq tried to teach her the steps. But if she did, what else was new? Just because she was used to being the butt of someone else’s joke didn’t mean she had to like it.
“Are you having a good time?” a guy in plaid pants, a wide-collared shirt, and a puka shell necklace asked as she headed to the Illusion Lounge for the early performance. Even though he was out of uniform, Spencer recognized him as one of the porters she had seen helping passengers with their bags before and after they had boarded the ship on check-in day.
“Yes, I am. How about you?”
“I’d be better if I didn’t have to wear this getup.”
“I can imagine.”
He was wearing so much polyester he was a walking fire hazard. Spencer’s clothes—a pair of white jeans and a yellow T-shirt with a picture of a seagull on the front—fit the night’s theme, even if they weren’t accurate to the time period they were supposed to represent. She’d bought the jeans a couple of years ago, and she’d purchased the T-shirt from an online retailer last week because the sun-washed colors reminded her of the tropical countries she would soon be visiting.
“You look like the kind of woman who likes to party. If I’m right about you, I can hook you up.”
Spencer couldn’t tell if the line was meant to be a clumsy come-on or an overture for something else. Before she could ask him to clarify, a woman with shaggy brown hair, pouty lips, and toned arms joined the conversation.
“Some guys just can’t take a hint, can they?” the woman asked as she hiked up her low-slung patchwork jeans. “Two thousand lesbians on board and he still thinks he’s got a chance. Piss off, Brandon. Maybe you’ll have better luck on the next trip.”
Brandon stared at the woman, his eyes glinting with what looked like malice. Spencer thought he was about to lash out and say something juvenile, then his lips curled into a smile. “You never know until you try. See you around, Jess.”
Jessica watched Brandon walk away. She could tell his feathers were ruffled, but he’d be sure to change his tune when she told him he almost tried to make a deal with someone she had seen having lunch with a large group of people that included Raq and her cop girlfriend. Jessica didn’t know if the woman was a police officer, too, but she hadn’t been willing to take the chance.
“Thanks for riding to my rescue.”
“No problem.” After they introduced themselves, Jessica tried to satisfy her curiosity. “I’m one of the fitness pros on board. What do you do?”
“I write computer software.”
“Cool.” Jessica had been half-expecting to hear her say she was a DEA agent on assignment, not a tech geek. “Are you headed to the early show?”
“No, I might check out the second one. I told some friends I’d meet them in the disco. Well, they’re not really friends. I just met them this afternoon.”
The admission made Jessica feel marginally less paranoid. “From what I’ve seen, it doesn’t take long to make friends around here. Enjoy your night.”
“You, too. I’ll be sure to call you the next time I need someone to run interference.”
“I’m here all week.”
And then what? After she stopped working as a mule, she’d have to stop working for the cruise line, too. She didn’t want to give up such a sweet gig, but she’d have to if she wanted to put as much distance between herself and her past as she possibly could. She’d miss the perks, she’d miss the passengers—some of them, anyway—and she’d definitely miss hooking up with Breanna whenever their paths crossed, but she was excited to see what the future had in store for her. She might not be able to fulfill all her dreams, but she’d be able to live her life without worrying if today would be the day she’d finally get caught.
She took a deep breath, giddy at the thought of being able to choose her own destiny instead of subjecting it to the fickleness of fate.
Brandon cornered her outside the entrance to the showroom. “What the fuck was that about?” he asked in a fierce whisper. “Were you trying to bust my balls to help you pick up chicks or what?”
Jessica eyed the women streaming in for the upcoming concert. A few glanced her and Brandon’s way, but none, thankfully, seemed to have overheard their conversation. “I was saving you from a very long prison stint,” she said after she pulled him out of earshot. “The woman you were trying to sell to just now is friends with the cop and the police consultant I warned you about. If she tells them or the federale that you tried to sell her drugs, how long do you think it would take for you to end up in handcuffs?”
Brandon’s face paled beneath his tan, but he tried to play off his obvious unease. “You said the cop’s from DC and the federale’s from Mexico. Take a look around. We’re nowhere near either of those places. The most they can do is say something to the ship’s security team. Do you think I’m scared of those guys? They’re nothing more than well-dressed rent-a-cops. They’d shit themselves if they had to deal with anything more serious than breaking up a bar fight between a couple of overserved passengers.”
“You’re a lot more certain about that than I am.”
“That’s because I’ve been doing this a lot longer than you have. You’re new to the game, but I’ve been slinging since I was a kid, and I’ve never been caught.”
“There’s always a first time.”
“Not for me. Do you know why? Because I know what I’m doing. I know how to sell and who to sell to. I can also smell a cop from a mile away. Relax, Jess. Don’t get your panties in a bunch. You did your job. Let me do mine. You’ve been trying to tell me how to handle my business for days. You don’t see me trying to tell you how to handle yours, do you? I’m no better at teaching an aerobics class than you’d be trying to move a key of coke. Thanks for giving me the heads-up about the fuzz on board, but I can take it from here. Why are you so worried anyway? I thought you wanted out.”
“I do.”
“And give up all that easy money?”
“Your definition of easy must be a lot different than mine because I don’t see anything easy about the risks I’ve been taking.”
“The risk is what makes this shit so much fun,” Brandon said with a grin that was even cockier than his attitude. “If we’re done here, I’m going to try to find someone to keep me company tonight.”
“Happy hunting, but you’d probably be better off trying to find a needle in a haystack.”
“Like I said before, you never know until you try.”
Brandon wasn’t known for giving good advice. In fact, Jessica had often found she was better served doing the opposite of anything he suggested. This time, she hoped he was right. About everything.
* * *
The concert served as the perfect warm-up for the disco ball. The energy was electric when the final performance ended and even more so when the party began. The disco ball was already underway when Amy, Leanna, Breanna, and Jessica arrived. They carved out some space for themselves on the crowded dance floor and joined the party.
Amy waved a glow stick in the air as she took in all the wild outfits and the even wilder gyrations. Nights like this reminded her why she love
d her job. But she had forgotten that most of the songs from the ’70s were exponentially longer than modern releases. And DJ AZ was playing all of her favorites. Breanna and Jessica disappeared after four songs. Leanna stuck around for two more before she announced she was heading to the bar to grab a drink.
“Are you coming?” Leanna asked.
Amy was winded, she was sweaty, and her feet were starting to hurt, but she didn’t want to stop dancing. Because the moment she did, she would have to start examining her feelings instead of ignoring them. Tonight, she didn’t want to process. She didn’t want to ponder what she might be missing out on. She just wanted to have fun.
“Not yet.”
“Suit yourself.”
The mood on the dance floor changed from sexy to downright sultry when DJ AZ switched from one of the Bee Gees’ greatest hits to a Donna Summer classic that had often been described as a seventeen-minute orgasm set to music.
Amy was left without a dance partner when Leanna bailed, but she didn’t remain unaccompanied for long. Spencer and the group of friends she had made at the wine tasting that afternoon were dancing nearby. Spencer was the only one without an official partner so she and Amy ended up getting paired with each other.
If she’d known Spencer was in such close proximity, Amy would have accepted Leanna’s invitation to get a drink instead of turning it down. You couldn’t avoid someone if she was right in front of you. As the music swirled and pulsed around them, Amy wondered how Spencer managed to make a simple ensemble like jeans and a T-shirt look impossibly sexy. Or was it more accurate to say she was more attracted to the woman inside the clothes than the outfit itself?
Spencer looked at her expectantly. Was she waiting for Amy to explain her absence at dinner, or was she waiting for her to move closer? Most of the other couples on the dance floor were practically joined at the hip. Amy longed to follow their lead, but her job prevented her from doing so.
Pleasure Cruise Page 10
