Countering His Claim

by Rachel Bailey

  There was a bigger story here—a piece of the Della Walsh puzzle. He gave her an unhurried appraisal. “You have three hundred and thirty staff members aboard the Cora Mae. He makes enough for them all?”

  She shrugged. “Many work over the dinner shift, either in food service or entertainment, and on their break they eat at the staff canteen.”

  “There would still be a lot of staff off duty,” he said.

  As her lashes swept down then up, she reminded him of the movie stars of the sixties—beautiful, sophisticated and unattainable. One step removed from her surroundings, as if watching the world—him—from behind an impenetrable facade.

  “Not all staff know about the secret parmigiana, do they?”

  “We have a large amount of casual workers. They come on for a year to see the world, and then they leave to settle down somewhere.”

  “Not you.” He took another sip of his wine and watched her over the rim.

  “I live here,” she said simply. “As do a core group of employees.”

  The people who’d formed the protective circle around Della after the will reading. The people who seemed to constantly stop to congratulate her on her windfall. “The parmigiana crowd.”

  “If you like.”

  He placed his empty glass on the coffee table and sat back. “Don’t you think you’ll want to leave to settle down on land at some point? Marry?”

  “I won’t marry,” she said with certainty.

  There was more to that, but he could see by the set of her chin she wouldn’t share. Not that he blamed her for that attitude—his marriage to Jillian had been the worst mistake he’d ever made.

  He changed tack, still trying to build some rapport so she wouldn’t be so resistant to him and would finally agree to sell her share of the ship. “Tell me about the Cora Mae.”

  Her eyes warmed. “She’s a beautiful ship, a floating piece of heaven. A sanctuary.” The last word was a murmur, as though it slipped out as an involuntary afterthought. She cleared her throat and continued. “The architecture of the shopping deck alone was a huge design task and won several awards.”

  Luke listened with half an ear as Della continued to espouse the merits of the ship, but one word replayed in his mind. Sanctuary. Why would Dr. Della Walsh— attractive, intelligent, well-educated—need a safe haven? She should have the world at her feet.

  Perhaps it had something to do with that guarded expression he’d seen a few times, the one hiding an old hurt.

  He caught himself, annoyed. What was he doing wondering about the private thoughts of this woman? That was a completely different matter to building rapport. He blew out a breath then met her gaze. Time to finish this charade.

  “Dr. Walsh, what will it take for you to sell me all or part of your share of the ship?”

  Four

  Della cast a quick glance around Luke’s suite—one small microcosm of the ship she loved, its gold-and-maroon furnishings, the rich wood and curved walls. What would it take for her to sell her share of Patrick’s ship?

  “It’s not that simple,” she said, shifting in her seat. “If I’d known Patrick was leaving me half the Cora Mae, naturally I would have told him not to. And in that conversation, he would have been able to explain why he was doing it. But I never had the chance to discuss it with him, so I’m not privy to his reasoning. And make no mistake, his reasoning faculties were sound till the end. How can I give it up if I don’t know why I have it in the first place?”

  Luke’s shoulders tensed. This was obviously not the direction he wanted the conversation to be heading. “So, what—you’re holding out for a secret letter, or a clue to his intentions?”

  “Maybe. I don’t know.” Now that he’d said it aloud, she realized she had been hoping a letter from Patrick would surface that explained his will, however unlikely that would be—if he’d written one, it would have been attached to his will, or in the papers the executor held. But there had to be some hint somewhere. “Surely we’ll work out why he left it this way?”

  “It’s more likely that we’ll never find out,” Luke said, sounding as annoyed about that possibility as she was.

  She crossed her ankles and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “I’m sorry, Luke. I can’t give you an answer yet.”

  He rubbed his fingers across his forehead, as if he could smooth out the lines that had become embedded there. “Surely you can’t want to be a part-owner?”

  “Since coming to work and live on the Cora Mae two years ago when my father was captain, I’ve developed a certain sense of…ownership. I became good friends with Patrick, partly through his close relationship with my parents, and because of our frequent discussions about the ship, I often thought about changes I’d love to see.”

  “Your training is in medicine,” he said slowly, “not in business management.”

  “That’s a fair point. But I have lifelong observations of shipboard life. With my inside knowledge of how a ship works, having been part of discussions about ships with my family since I was a child, and later with Patrick, my input into the Cora Mae’s future could be worthwhile. And I have to admit—” she allowed a small smile to slip out “—part of me relishes the chance to try.”

  Luke tapped a finger on the table, his gaze not wavering from her face. “What about your medical career?”

  “I always thought I wanted to follow in my mother’s footsteps as a ship’s doctor. But perhaps I’d like to follow closer to my father’s path and have a greater say in this ship’s future.”

  Eyes searching, he took a long sip of his wine and swallowed, as if biding his time.

  “So now we’ve explored my intentions,” she said, “how about you tell me what your plans would be for the ship. Would you keep the current Pacific route?”

  He didn’t move, yet something changed. Luke was suddenly a businessman again, looking at her with all the assurance of a CEO delivering a business plan. “There are still some details to be ironed out, but I’m planning to anchor her in the Great Barrier Reef as Marlow Corporation’s first floating hotel.”

  “What? Why?” She blurted out the words before she could stop herself, her entire body recoiling from Luke’s plan.

  “Costs will be reduced by eliminating fuel and related expenses, and with the permanent location, guests would be able to get up close and personal with one of the seven wonders of the natural world. They’d have everyday access to excursions such as snorkeling the reef.”

  She sucked in her bottom lip. The idea of the Cora Mae no longer cruising the oceans as she was meant to was devastating. “Why not just buy or build a hotel on one of the islands? Tourism is already a booming industry up there.”

  “Land is limited,” he said, unfazed by her dismay. “Most of the islands are already owned by tourism operators or are in private hands. Anchoring the ship will, in effect, create my own piece of real estate in one of the most desirable locations in the world.”

  “Wouldn’t it have a dreadful environmental impact on the reef?”

  He waved a hand. “Not at all. With the technology and systems we’d have in place for waste management, water and power generation, there would be virtually no impact at all.”

  “But, she’d be tethered to the one spot.” Della frowned, not hiding her distaste. “Robbed of her freedom.”

  He smiled at that, then sobered. “It’s a business decision. I can’t let sentimentality trump financial factors.”

  “So, you’d chain the Cora Mae down to make more money. She’d have—”

  She was interrupted by a knock at the door. Luke pushed out of his armchair and strode to the door, probably pleased by the distraction. A steward with an in-suite dining trolley greeted him, and Luke stood back to let him pass.

  As the steward entered the room, she recognized him and sm
iled. “Hi, Max.”

  “Good evening, Dr. Walsh,” the man replied with a flirtatious smile. Max had asked her out a couple of times in the past; she’d declined but he’d been cheerily optimistic about trying again in the future.

  Luke looked sharply at Max, probably assessing the situation all too correctly. Then, as Luke’s gaze landed on her, a warm shiver flittered across her skin. There was something in his eyes, a heat, a thought she couldn’t quite read, but one she could tell involved her. The world around her faded as his silver-gray eyes held her spellbound. Then his jaw clenched and the connection vanished. He turned away and dismissed Max with the polite reply, “I’ll take it from here, thanks,” before wheeling the trolley to their table.

  Della blinked, attempting to orient herself to the room again—the moment of connection they’d shared had been as intense as it had been brief and it had left her slightly breathless.

  But it couldn’t happen again. Forming an attachment to any man—let alone the one she was in the midst of delicate negotiations with—was not in the cards. She folded her arms tightly over her chest, reminding herself of the scarred imperfection that lay beneath her blouse. The mugger who’d stolen the life of her husband and left her for dead had given her one last gift—a torso bearing the scars of his stabs and slashes. A torso that would never appeal to a man like Luke, who would be used to nothing less than perfection.

  She had no intention of baring those scars to anyone—ever. Odd how her body seemed to have its own agenda, not caring that it was so undesirable, only wanting a man’s touch, a man’s caress. Luke’s caress.

  Involuntarily, her muscles tensed. For two years, she’d lived a celibate life and preferred it that way. It was the only path open to her—even in the unlikely event that a man might see past her scars, she would never, never risk loving and losing again.

  “You know,” she said with as much nonchalance she could muster to cover her lapse, “that’s part of Max’s job. To bring the food to the table and serve it.” She stood and moved across to the carved wood dining table, its glass top set lavishly for a dinner for two.

  Luke looked up. “I prefer that we’re alone tonight,” he said.

  “So we can argue in private?” she asked, tensing.

  “No, not argue, discuss.” He gave her a crooked grin. “Maybe it will be a little heated at times, but it’s still a discussion.”

  “Okay. A discussion.”

  “And while we eat, I propose a truce.” He held her gaze a moment too long.

  She nodded once and took her seat, her false casualness evaporating. Something had changed between them. And she didn’t have any idea how to undo it.

  Luke served the two plates of eggplant parmigiana and refilled their glasses. Bending to place her glass before her emphasized the solid breadth of his shoulders, and she was struck by the disconcerting question of what it would feel like to touch the shape of the muscles that led from his neck to the tops of his arms. Shaking her head, she almost groaned—within seconds of wanting to undo the change that had happened between them, she was in danger of becoming carried away by a nice set of shoulders.

  “Well, it smells good,” he said, breaking into her thoughts.

  She looked down at her plate. This dish had become her comfort food. She sliced a piece of the meltingly soft eggplant coated in crispy golden bread crumbs and popped it in her mouth, savoring the textures and flavor.

  “How much of your childhood did you spend on ships?” Luke asked.

  “From when I was three.” She tucked a wayward curl behind her ear. “My father worked his way up to captain when he was quite young and with Mum being a ship’s doctor, they raised me on ships across the world. I feel more at home on a ship than on land.”

  “What about your education?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “They homeschooled me, and after I finished high school, I went ashore and trained as a doctor.”

  He cut a piece of eggplant, but held it on his fork as he regarded her. “You said you came to the Cora Mae two years ago, yet your father was captain here for six years. Did you stay ashore after qualifying in medicine?”

  She hesitated. Talking about that time in her life made everything inside her clench tight, but she took a deep breath and steadied herself to answer him. It was time to start moving through the stranglehold those memories had kept on her.

  She looked down at her food, gathering herself, then up at Luke. “While I was training, I met someone. We married and set ourselves up on shore.” How inadequate the words were to describe the love, the life that she’d shared with Shane.

  “What happened?”

  “He died,” she said, her voice not even wavering, perhaps for the first time. “After, my father offered me a job and I took it. I might not have been aboard this particular ship before that for more than a holiday, but I…it felt like I was coming home.” And that was more than enough said about her past. She took her last bite of eggplant and when she’d finished chewing, laid her cutlery on her plate.

  They needed to get back on track. Back to focusing on their shared ownership of the Cora Mae. She fidgeted with her napkin. Perhaps it would be better if she came at it from another direction.

  “How many hotels do you own?” she asked.

  “Twenty-three, across Australia and New Zealand.”

  She might be responsible for people’s health but it was one person at a time. She couldn’t imagine the magnitude of making daily decisions for a company that large.

  “Do you enjoy it?”

  He stared at her for a moment as if he hadn’t comprehended the question, then shrugged one shoulder and reached for his drink. “It’s what I do.”

  A little window of insight opened before her and she couldn’t resist peeking in. “But you must like working in the hotel industry?”

  Luke toyed with the stem of his glass. “To an extent.”

  Della found herself leaning infinitesimally forward, intrigued. “Then why go into it?”

  “It was my father’s company, so I grew up working in it. From the kitchens and housekeeping when I was on school holidays, to the reception desk and the corporate headquarters when I was on university breaks.” A rueful smile tugged at his mouth, as if he hadn’t admitted this often. Or at all. “I don’t really know any other industry.”

  It was sweet to hear of a father helping his son to get a leg up in the industry. “Was he teaching you at home, as well?” She could imagine his father talking about the business over the dinner table, explaining the decisions he’d made that day at work.

  “I barely saw my parents,” he said with a voice that was too neutral, too deliberately even. “I went to boarding school when I was thirteen. And, unless I was with Patrick, I worked in the hotels during holidays.”

  Della held her breath. Beneath his confident laid-back exterior, this man was covering a scar or two of his own. Patrick had never mentioned that Luke had been sent away to school, and now that seemed like a telling oversight.

  “That must have been difficult. Lonely,” she said gently.

  He dismissed her words with a wave of his hand. “I think it’s time we moved on to another topic.”

  He was right. It was none of her business how he was raised. She took another long sip of her wine, then brought the conversation back to where it needed to be. “Were you serious about turning the Cora Mae into a floating hotel?”

  “One hundred percent. I’ve looked into it in the past, so my staff has already done some of the background work and created a plan. Right now they’re hard at work hammering out the details.”

  A sudden thought struck—was this the real reason Patrick had left her half the ship—he’d known what Luke intended and wanted Della to prevent it?

  She laced her fingers together and took a breath. “Had y
ou talked about this plan for the Cora Mae with Patrick?”

  He blew out a dismissive breath. “I’d broached the subject.”

  “And?”

  Luke shrugged. “He could see the merits of a permanently anchored cruise ship as a hotel.”

  “But what about the Cora Mae? Did you discuss her specifically with him?”

  “Not in any depth. There was no need to. This was several years ago now and Patrick was still fit and healthy with no hint of the cancer that was going to kill him.”

  “I see.” She dabbed the edges of her mouth with the napkin, then laid it carefully on the table. “There’s no doubt in my mind that Patrick would have wanted the ship to keep cruising. I think this is why he left me half the Cora Mae—so that I could stand as her advocate after he’d gone.”

  Luke speared his fingers through his hair. “Much as I wish Patrick was still with us, he’s not,” he said, his voice a little rough around the edges. “We can’t run a business trying to second-guess what he wanted. We have to do the best we can at the present time.”

  How simple that sounded. How convenient and neat. But it wasn’t the way she worked. She moistened her lips and lifted her chin a fraction. “I’ll do everything in my power as a half-share owner to keep the Cora Mae cruising.” It was her responsibility. She wouldn’t let Patrick down.

  “Della, you can’t afford to buy me out, so your vision for the ship will be hard to implement. We’ll either need to agree, which is seemingly unlikely at this point, or you need to sell me a portion of your share.”

  “But why does it need to change? The ship is profitable, isn’t it? You can appoint a manager. You can appoint me. I’ll carry on the work that Patrick did. There’s no reason for the Cora Mae to be tied down and her engines left to rot.”

  “Except profit, Della. It will be much more profitable if she is tied down.”

  “She’s special, Luke. If only you could look past the size of the black numbers on the accountant’s balance sheet, you’d see.”