But how relaxing could this cruise be, knowing that she might cross paths at any time with Vance Kingston? Would he be dining at the same restaurant? Swimming in one of the pools? Catching the nightly shows? And what about the gala? Surely he must have a special somebody in his life who would be here to celebrate his new position with him and his family?
So what? an inner voice interrupted her thoughts. Why wouldn’t you be able to relax? Just because he treated you to some wine doesn’t mean he’s going to seek you out again.
And why would he? With his family onboard, and probably a group of close friends and associates, he would hardly be intending to pursue her. For conversation or otherwise.
Chanelle felt her eyelids getting heavy. She wondered what it would be like to be pursued by Vance Kingston. And then she immediately chastised herself for having such a hare-brained thought. She had other things to deal with now instead of indulging in a ridiculous fantasy about the president of Zodiac Cruises.
She was not interested in anybody pursuing her.
Not. Interested.
The last thing she wanted was to be embroiled in a relationship.
Chanelle exhaled noisily. What a ridiculous notion she had had earlier, that of encouraging herself to flirt with Vance Kingston. The wine had been to blame for that. It had addled her brain, loosened her tongue, and of all the people who could have witnessed her temporary lapse of sanity, it had to have been the president of Zodiac Cruises.
She closed her eyes and scrunched them tight before releasing the tension, willing the image of cobalt-blue eyes to disappear from her mind.
* * *
Vance tossed his jacket onto his couch and loosened his tie. He ran his fingers through his hair. He was happy with the success of the opening night show, but he would have been even happier if, after the show, he had been able to speak with—
He stopped himself. What was he thinking? Just because he had spent some time with Chanelle Robinson before the show didn’t mean that he needed to connect with her afterwards. He gave a curt laugh and shook his head before heading to the shower. He had other things to think about, like the upcoming gala.
Mariah had brought up the subject as he was walking her to her stateroom after the show. She had glanced at him speculatively and said she was surprised that he hadn’t invited “anyone special” to accompany him on the cruise.
“Currently, there are no contenders in that position,” he had replied wryly, raising an eyebrow. “Taking over for Dad has been my priority... And even if I wanted to, there’s no time.”
“Mom said that Brianna phoned the house the other day. She said she hadn’t been able to reach you on your cell.”
“I don’t have time for Brianna,” he had replied dismissively. “Or her universe.” He had had no problem inhabiting her universe in the past, but somehow, he had no inclination to get caught up in it again.
In the shower, Vance let the streams of water relax his shoulder and back muscles. Thoughts of Brianna dissipated as frames of Chanelle flicked through his mind like a slideshow: Chanelle reaching for Adrien, her brow creased in alarm; the way she had cocked her head and smiled at him when she called him Sir Vancelot; the flicker of genuine concern in her eyes when she talked about her line of work; the look of her walking into the restaurant with that curve-hugging black top and magenta skirt that matched the color of her lips exactly; and—
He groaned. Chanelle was a witch, she had to be, to have put some kind of spell over him that had her appearing in front of his eyes even when she wasn’t there. Damn! He had vowed that he wouldn’t let women distract him from what he needed to accomplish at Zodiac Cruises... There was too much at stake, especially his self-respect. He had made a promise to himself, and he had every intention of keeping it.
And for the past nine months, he had succeeded. After Brianna, there had been no one. Oh, he had been all too aware that there were women who still had hopes when it came to winning his favor, but he had not succumbed to their discreet and not-so-discreet invitations.
Despite the fact that he had sometimes felt tempted...
He knew it was guilt over his lack of involvement in the business before his father had passed away that had something to do with it. Everything to do with it. And his failure to make a deathbed promise to his father to take over the business. Yes, guilt had put a giant wedge between him and any thoughts of involvement with another woman.
Vance stepped out of the shower, briskly towel dried his hair and wrapped the towel around his hips. He sauntered over to his minibar and extracted a bottle of ice wine. He poured himself a small glass and walked out to his balcony.
Was Chanelle out on hers? Or sleeping?
An image of her lying on the bed with her lustrous hair spread across the pillow sent a shiver through him. Vance finished the wine and went back inside.
He replaced the towel with a robe and stretched out on his bed, his hands cradling the back of his neck. There was something that made Chanelle Robinson different from the women he had dated in the past.
She’s not into herself, he realized with a start. She was real. No artifice or pretensions. No glossy manicure or designer clothes. Not that there was anything wrong with a glossy manicure or designer clothes. In his experience, it was the attitude that sometimes accompanied them that was pretentious.
And Vance hadn’t detected any of that kind of attitude from Chanelle. She seemed down-to-earth, and it was obvious she had been dedicated to her job. He frowned as he pictured her walking into a home and having to remove the children because of neglect or worse. Having to deal with belligerent parents...
Vance breathed in sharply. Had Chanelle ever been in danger? A spiral of anger shot through his veins, quickly followed by that surge of protectiveness again. With a groan, he vaulted off the bed. There was no use even attempting to turn off his thoughts and go to sleep. He glanced at the clock. Not quite eleven o’clock.
He considered running around the track on the upper deck and then changed his mind. He tried reading a book, but his mind kept wandering. Frustrated, he put the book down, flung off his robe and slid between the cool sheets of his bed. With a deep sigh, he allowed thoughts of Chanelle to slip in beside him...
CHAPTER FIVE
WHEN CHANELLE WOKE UP, her eyes followed the light to the balcony. This was their first at-sea day, and all that was visible were water, clouds and sky. The clouds were low and tinged pink and coral. So pretty... The sun was just rising, a hazy golden orb veiled by the shifting clouds. Chanelle slid open the door wider and stepped onto the balcony. She stood by the railing, breathing the fresh air and watching the clouds’ transformations.
She went back inside and changed into a mint-green swimsuit, deciding to do a few laps in the pool before breakfast. Now that she couldn’t use work as an excuse not to exercise, she could invest some time in the physical fitness department. And she rather relished the thought of having the pool to herself. She didn’t imagine too many people would be there this early, including...
Chanelle felt her cheeks prickling with heat at the thought of Vance Kingston doing laps in the pool alongside her, his muscular arms and chest—
Stop! She frowned at herself in the mirror. “You, Chanelle Robinson—” she pointed an accusing finger “—are pathetic, daydreaming about the president of Zodiac Cruises. Pathetic and ridiculous.”
She stuck her tongue out at herself and, after tying her hair up in a ponytail, put on a peach-colored cover-up. Grabbing her beach bag and towel, Chanelle headed to the pool on Deck Twelve.
The view at this height was enchanting, and for a moment, she stood at the railing, absorbed in the gentle collision of pink and saffron clouds as they floated across the horizon. She could do this all day, she mused. This was relaxation. And she had had too little of it for ages.
The pool water was balmy, and Chanelle floated for a whil
e, eyes closed, concentrating on the delicious feeling of weightlessness. She would definitely have to make this an early-morning ritual.
Breaking into a front stroke, she swam the length of the pool and back six times. After rinsing off, she briskly dried herself with the oversized towel and stretched out on her chaise lounge. She would read for a bit, and then she’d go and shower and dress before heading to the Galaxy Café for breakfast.
Chanelle felt her eyelids getting heavier as she was reading. Despite the comfort of her king-size bed, she’d had a fitful sleep, waking two or three times during the night. Turning the book over onto her lap, she let herself drift off, lulled by the water gushing out of the nearby fountain—an Aquarius water bearer...
* * *
Vance had always enjoyed working out in the gym first thing in the morning. Besides keeping him fit, it helped him work out his feelings. Whatever frustrations he had had about his father, by the time he had bench-pressed two hundred pounds or sweated through countless repetitions of weight-lifting exercises, his pent-up emotions had been released, if not completely resolved.
His father had been a workaholic. He had spent his energy on building his company, and he had made a fortune with twelve ships in the fleet, each one carrying the name of a zodiac sign. Zodiac ships were not the largest of cruise ships, but they had the reputation of being among the most luxurious. The first ship to sail had been this one, the Aquarius, named after Vance’s sign.
Immersed in the growth of his company, his dad had left the rearing of his children to his wife, who had joined him in running the company only after the kids were in school. Vance had grown up missing a father at school concerts, basketball games and tournaments, and sometimes at family holidays and special occasions. Like his birthday. And graduation.
Vance had vowed that he would never become like him. His disdain had manifested in teenage rebellion whenever his father had shown up, and he and his father had clashed incessantly. The more his dad had gotten on his case, the more Vance had acted in outrageous ways.
Like buying himself a Harley when he was eighteen and literally zooming off into the sunset with a motorcycle gang. Not a nefarious gang, just a bunch of wild and moderately rebellious guys like him. They had raced their way west across the Trans-Canada Highway, enjoying the commotion they caused entering every quiet little town or bar. They had especially liked the attention of groups of women in these locales.
They had happened to end up in Alberta just in time for the Calgary Stampede. They had arrived at the beginning of the annual ten-day festival in July and had enthusiastically joined the cowboy and Western-themed party that attracted over a million visitors every year. They had bought themselves cowboy hats and had whooped it up at the rodeos, parades, concerts and chuck wagon competitions. They had taken their fill of pancake breakfasts, barbecues and gorgeous cowgirls in sexy hats, formfitting jeans and pointy leather boots.
Vance had returned to Toronto with two souvenirs, his cowboy hat and an Aquarius tattoo on his upper back. His father had been none too pleased. He had accused Vance of being a spoiled, ungrateful son, worrying his mother half to death and wasting his hard-earned money instead of doing something useful, like working his way up in the company.
He had been spoiled. Had spent money without much thought. He had taken luxury for granted, having never known anything but fine food, designer clothes, flashy cars and no shortage of women who appreciated such finery.
Though his adventures with motorcycles had eventually waned, Vance had still wanted to travel. Over the last ten years, he had grown accustomed to visiting exotic locations on a whim and acquiring real estate in Canada—an artist’s retreat on Salt Spring Island off the West Coast and a spectacular saltbox house in Newfoundland’s Conception Bay. His other home away from home was Coral Haven, the island in the Caribbean that his parents had purchased and where they had built a luxurious villa. The island was uninhabited except for the people employed to travel back and forth from Grand Cayman to keep the villa maintained and prepared for the family’s visits.
He was looking forward to spending time at Coral Haven during this cruise. While guests enjoyed the excursion to Grand Cayman, he and his family would spend the day at their villa.
After his strenuous workout, Vance was ready for a refreshing dip in the pool, located on the same deck. As the invigoratingly cool water splashed over his heated face and body in the pre-pool shower, he glimpsed a figure on one of the chaise lounges.
He squinted and diverted his head from the spray of water. He could see the woman better now: her long, curvy legs, a book overturned on her right thigh, her silky mint-green swimsuit with a flounce ruffle top, wet from her recent swim. Her eyes were obscured by ridiculously large sunglasses, but the ribbons of auburn hair flanking the curves of her face gave her identity away.
Vance felt a drumming in his chest. The Aquarius was not a small ship, yet it seemed that at every turn, he was practically bumping into Chanelle Robinson. Vance strode to the deep end and dived into the pool. When he surfaced, he shook his head and glanced toward Chanelle, but she hadn’t budged. He began his laps and tried to concentrate on his strokes, but every time he approached the end of the pool near the spot where Chanelle was, his heartbeat seemed to accelerate.
When Vance hauled himself out of the pool, he was surprised to see Chanelle was still sleeping. Her oversized sunglasses had slipped crookedly down her nose, and her shifting had caused her book to tumble over the chaise lounge onto the floor. He toweled himself quickly and sauntered over to pick up the book with the intention of placing it on the corner of her chaise, when he noticed her stateroom key card at the foot of her chaise. He couldn’t help glancing at the number on it.
Chanelle gave a sudden vigorous stretch, catching him soundly on his backside with the back of her hand. He swiveled and met the startled and blinking green eyes that he was beginning to know so well...
CHAPTER SIX
CHANELLE STARED. WHAT was Vance Kingston doing, standing there wearing nothing but his swim trunks and holding her book in his hand? And standing so close that she had whacked him in the rear? Had he been watching her as she slept?
She was mortified, irritated and embarrassed all at once. The last thing—or person—she had expected to see was him. Like this. Her eyes swept upward past his trim waist, muscled chest and arms and broad shoulders. And disturbingly amused turquoise eyes.
She straightened in her chaise and pulled off her sunglasses. “Excuse me?” she said pointedly.
“Shouldn’t that be a statement instead of a question?” he said with a crooked half smile.
Chanelle gaped at him.
“I mean, I don’t know if it was intentional, but your backhand was quite forceful. I’m afraid there might be some bruising...” He patted his backside gingerly and made a grimace.
“It was not intentional,” she said defensively. “Your rear just happened to be in the way.”
She frowned. “Why were you in the way?” She stared at the book he still held in his hands. “I can’t imagine it was because you wanted to borrow my book.”
Vance glanced at the cover of the paperback, and Chanelle wished she hadn’t brought attention to it. It featured a blue-eyed frontiersman clasping a brown-eyed heroine with windswept hair by her scarlet-corseted waist. Chanelle felt currents of heat sizzling through her, making her cheeks feel as fiery as the dress on the cover.
“I hadn’t intended to.” He checked out the back cover and then gazed back at her. “I saw it had fallen, and I was just about to carry out my one good deed of the day and pick it up.” Vance’s eyes seemed to twinkle at her. “But maybe you can lend it to me once you’re finished.” He handed it to her. “If you think I’ll enjoy it.”
Chanelle took it and placed it on her chaise. He was teasing her, of course. Or mocking her. She doubted that he was the type to read historical romances. In
any case, she was at a loss as to how to answer him.
And at a disadvantage, with him practically standing over her. Chanelle wished she had put on her cover-up. Despite the fact that her swimsuit was a one-piece, she still felt rather exposed, and the tingly sensations within her were causing her to shiver uncontrollably, making her even more self-conscious. She quickly crossed her arms in front of her.
Chanelle heard approaching voices and looked past Vance’s shoulder. A family of five was making its way toward the pool attendant. Vance followed her glance. “Time for me to go.” He grinned. “Enjoy your book.” He turned and strode toward the entrance leading to the elevator foyer. Chanelle’s gaze leaped to his broad back, where a tattoo in various blues was splayed on his upper right side. A stylistic double wave design with a realistic-looking splash of water curving below. The same astrological sign as the ship. Aquarius. Unable to divert her gaze, she watched the movement of his arm and back muscles until Vance disappeared around a corner.
Chanelle blinked and swallowed and realized she hadn’t answered him.
* * *
After her shower, Chanelle changed into a pair of navy capri pants and a sleeveless red-and-white-striped top and sat on the balcony to check her phone messages while her hair dried. Her mother had messaged.
Enjoy, relax and pamper yourself, my darling girl. No one deserves it more than you! Love you!
And her stepdad.
Be well, Chanelle my belle, and contact me day or night if you need to, okay, sweetheart? By the way, I’m bringing back a cuddly friend for you... Love you lots!
And he had attached a photo of himself holding a plush koala bear.
Caribbean Escape with the Tycoon Page 5
