Countering His Claim

by Rachel Bailey

  Della Walsh was temporary in his life.

  * * *

  Della ended the call and watched Luke as his fingers flew over his laptop keyboard. Despite his words being just as considerate, and the reaction he caused in her body just as strong, this wasn’t the same man tonight as the man she’d known on the ship.

  He didn’t even look the same—there was more tension in his shoulders, his back was a fraction straighter. There was a touch more arrogance in the angle he held his head. It had begun when they’d landed in Melbourne, and had been more pronounced when he’d picked her up after her late lunch with her parents. In fact, the effect was growing stronger every minute they spent in this city.

  This was Luke the businessman, the man she’d met after Patrick’s will reading who’d been determined to get her half of the ship for himself. The man she’d slapped, she remembered, biting down on her lip.

  Somewhere during their time together, he’d relaxed and stopped regarding her as the enemy. He’d become the man who treated her with tenderness, who had been patient about her scarred body and who laughed with her over mini golf.

  Which man was the real Luke—tense businessman or relaxed lover?

  He glanced up, saw her watching him and gave her a tight smile, then went back to his laptop. Embarrassed at being caught staring, she started going through his cupboards, pulling out plates and cutlery for the food that would soon be on its way. But her thoughts wouldn’t be so easily diverted.

  It wasn’t unusual for people to act out of character on vacation, which was what their time on the Cora Mae had practically become. It was why holiday flings were renowned for not lasting. An unwelcome thought that she’d been ignoring finally surfaced—it was more than two weeks since Luke had made the deal to consider keeping the Cora Mae as a cruising vessel, but he didn’t seem to be coming around. What if he’d been stringing her along? Her stomach swooped. Perhaps he’d been pretending to be considering her wishes, charming her into trusting him, entertaining them both with a fling.

  Maybe there weren’t two Lukes, there was just this one, the focused businessman. And the man she’d come to know on the ship had been a role he was playing, either intentionally or because he’d been caught up in his holiday.

  Had she fallen in love with a mirage?

  Love…

  Oh, no. Oh, God. She’d promised herself she wasn’t falling in love with him. With trembling hands, she placed the crockery and cutlery carefully on his dining table.

  Love…?

  He shut down his laptop, stretched his arms above his head and stood. Then he cast a lazy smile across at her and her insides melted.

  “How long until the food arrives?” he asked.

  She swallowed, trying to keep her wits about her. “Thirty minutes.”

  “Enough time to show you my bed.” He prowled closer, encircled her in his arms. “Come with me,” he whispered beside her ear then pulled her lobe into the warmth of his mouth.

  Heat shimmered across her skin. This was desire, not love. A holiday fling that would end soon. As long as she kept treating it that way, it was no threat to her heart.

  She ran her hands up his solid chest. “We’d have to be quick.”

  “I can still make it worth your while,” he said with a devilish gleam in his gray eyes.

  She let him lead her down a hallway, determined to enjoy whatever time she could have with whichever Luke this was. Because it wouldn’t be long before she lost him completely.

  * * *

  The next morning, Della stepped into the boardroom that adjoined Luke’s office and glanced around. Since they were only a few blocks from his apartment building, the floor-to-ceiling windows held a similar view of the bustling city below, and the decor had the same impersonal feel. The difference was that it felt right in a business environment.

  Though she’d suspected his life was dominated by his career, so perhaps it was appropriate that his home reflected his office.

  “Coffee?” Luke asked, heading for a small table against the wall, lavishly laid out with coffee and tea, iced biscuits, fresh pastries and tiny cakes.

  “Are we expecting a hoard?”

  “Just us, though we can call in the people who worked on this project if we have questions.” He glanced at the catering table. “My assistant always stocks the room if people will be working in here.”

  “Just coffee, then,” she said and strolled over to the plans strewn across the boardroom table. There were detailed diagrams of waste management systems, power generators and water production. High piles of reports sat to the side, with an environmental impact report sitting at the top of the pile closest to her. Projected on a huge white screen was a slideshow of artists’ renditions of the Cora Mae in her new surroundings of the Great Barrier Reef.

  Luke handed her a mug of steaming coffee, then pointed to the sailors’ quarters on the main plans. “As you can see, these rooms will be converted to a permanent research facility for marine biologists and other scientists. We’d also employ a full-time environmental scientist to ensure the impact on the reef is minimized.”

  “Interesting,” she murmured as she continued to peruse the plans. They were details she hadn’t expected him to consider and was pleasantly surprised to see them included.

  A couple of hours and another cup of coffee later, she’d had a chance to flick through most of the presentation. Luke rested a hip on the edge of the table and crossed his arms. “Well, what do you think?”

  “To be honest, it’s not as bad as I was expecting,” she admitted.

  He cocked his head. “What were you expecting?”

  “I’m not sure.” She glanced up at the screen projection of the Cora Mae on the wall. “Maybe something akin to a caged bird.”

  “And now?” he asked, leaning infinitesimally forward.

  “By being permanently anchored, she’s part of her surroundings.” She looked back to Luke, surprised at the direction of her own thoughts. “She belongs, instead of just passing through.”

  Luke nodded. “That permanency also means the crew would have the option of living on board as they do now, or having a home base on the coast and working a roster of several days on at a time. They wouldn’t have to make the decisions that your parents did when you were first born. You would have all stayed together as a family.”

  “Ah, but then I would have missed out on the travel,” she said, feeling nostalgia pull her lips into a smile. “The amazing learning experiences that most other children just aren’t able to access.”

  He sank into a seat beside hers, curiosity in his eyes. “Like what?”

  She pushed her chair out a few feet and stretched her legs as the memories crowded into her mind. “When I was twelve, we were on the Mediterranean Queen, and my mother planned my homeschooling projects around Ancient Greece and Rome. We studied the civilizations when we were out to sea, then walked the ruins and historical sites on the days in port.”

  He regarded her for a long moment, tapping a finger on his thigh as he did. “You know, you guessed when we were in Nouméa that, in some ways, you’d had the childhood I’d wanted—growing up on a ship, all the time you spent with Patrick in the last few years. And you were right. But it was also the polar opposite of the childhood I had—you experienced the freedom, the travel, while I was in boarding school day and night.”

  “Like a caged bird,” she said softly.

  His gaze drifted to the expanse of glass along one wall, but she didn’t think his focus was on the view. “I think part of me probably did feel like that at the time.”

  “And when you talked about that in Nouméa, I asked if you resented the Cora Mae, and if that was affecting your decision about her future.”

  He nodded as he turned back to her. “I said I didn’t know.”

 
“What if it’s not about resentment?” she asked tentatively. At his quizzical expression, she rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and carefully chose the words to explain. “I’m wondering how that childhood of being cooped up, of having no freedoms, no real holidays, would affect a person. Would it make them want to take a ship that traveled, that was free, and chain it down to one spot?”

  He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “Perhaps. And I wonder how a person who’d grown up with a vast experience of travel, of always moving, would feel about a ship being permanently anchored? Especially if that person’s one proper experience of life in one place ended in tragedy. Would they see it as an emotional issue, maybe even transfer their own fears on to the ship?”

  She felt the corners of her mouth tug into a smile as she acknowledged his point. “Probably.”

  He chuckled. “We’re a fine pair.”

  For a precious moment it was as if the veil of businessman had lifted and the Luke she’d known on the Cora Mae had reemerged. Her heart lifted, and she found the courage to ask a question that had been playing at the corners of her mind. “Do you mind if I ask something personal?”

  He arched an eyebrow. “There’s something more personal than analyzing my childhood and its effects on present-day business decisions?”

  She smiled, then sobered. “Patrick often talked about you, so I knew a few things about you before we met. Yet some things you never mention.”

  He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Ask what you want to know.”

  “You were married,” she said simply.

  His expression was carefully schooled to neutral. “I was.”

  “You’ve never mentioned an ex-wife.” She would have had no idea he’d been married if not for Patrick’s family stories.

  “It’s never come up in conversation,” he said smoothly and picked up the report nearest his hand.

  Instinct told her to back off, but she didn’t want to let it go and risk never knowing about his romantic past. “True. Yet you’ve mentioned that your sister died when you were thirteen, and I’ve talked about having been married. We’ve both been pretty open with each other.”

  “Are you saying I’ve deliberately avoided mentioning my ex-wife?”

  She held his gaze. “Have you?”

  “Perhaps,” he acknowledged, and tossed the report back onto the table. “I try to avoid thinking about her if I can.”

  “Why?”

  “Mainly because it makes me look like a fool,” he said with a self-deprecating smile.

  “When Patrick talked about your marriage—” she hesitated, then plunged in “—he always seemed to be angry but he never said why.”

  A humorless laugh puffed from his throat. “He saw through her from the start.”

  “What happened?”

  He eased out a long breath. “She worked at Marlow Corporation, but apparently decided that it would be an easier life to marry the boss than to work for him.”

  Her heart clenched tight, aching for him. “She was using you?”

  “From day one.”

  Suddenly several things made sense—his comments about insincere compliments the day they first went to meet Roxie Appleby in the galley. His suspicions about her influencing Patrick to leave her half the ship…

  “Just so you know,” she said slowly, “I wasn’t doing that with Patrick.”

  He reached over and took her hand, lacing their fingers. “I realized that a while ago. Besides, I should have had more faith in Patrick’s ability to size people up—he wouldn’t have stood for you trying to manipulate him, even if he was sick. He was always stubborn and a particularly good judge of character.”

  She’d assumed Luke wouldn’t be sleeping with her had he continued to believe she’d used her position to influence his uncle, but it was still a weight off her shoulders to hear him say the words. She nudged her chair over beside his and laid her head on his shoulder. He rested an arm around her shoulders.

  “You know,” she murmured, “you were Patrick’s favorite person.”

  There was silence for so long she thought he wasn’t going to reply. “I should have visited more,” he finally said, his voice rough around the edges.

  She turned, found his gaze. “He knew you’d come if he wanted you, Luke.”

  Tenderly, he stroked a finger down her cheek. “I’m glad you were there for him. That he had someone with your heart and your skills with him at the end.”

  Tears pressed at the back of her eyes. He’d given her a gift.

  He leaned in and softly touched his mouth to hers, with more emotion than she thought could fit in one simple kiss. And then she knew for sure—there was no use denying any longer.

  She loved this man. Loved him so much it lifted her up until she was floating.

  And, though she knew it would lead to pain and grief all over again, in this moment she couldn’t bring herself to care. All she needed right now was Luke. She threaded her arms behind his neck and kissed him again.

  Ten

  Della arrived at the medical suites for her morning shift only half an hour after leaving Luke’s cabin. They’d been back on board for two days, spending every spare moment together, usually in his bed. Luke had begun to relax again once they’d boarded the Cora Mae in Fiji, which was great, but her own immense relief to be back on the ship had been uncomfortably surprising.

  “Good morning, Dr. Walsh. Sleep well?” Jody asked. The twinkle in her eye made Della wince. Apparently the Cora Mae’s rumor mill was in fine working order—she’d wondered if she and Luke had been able to keep their involvement a secret, or if word was seeping out. Now she had her answer.

  “Fine, thank you.” Della picked up the log of calls taken since the medical suite had been open yesterday and perused it, both to keep an eye on things and to cover for any potential blushing. “How about you?”

  Jody shrugged theatrically. “You know how it is. One of my roommates came in late, and another one snored, so it was hard to get some sleep.” She straightened the pens on her desk then stopped and looked up at Della. “Oh, no, that’s right. You wouldn’t know, since you have a cabin to yourself. No one there to wake you. All on your own. All night.”

  Della smothered a chuckle as she put down the log book and crossed her arms. “Is there something you’re trying to say, Jody?”

  “No, no.” Jody smiled sweetly. “Why, is there something you want to share?”

  Della tapped a pen against her lips. Perhaps it would help her sort through the mess of her emotions if she talked about it with someone. She’d known Jody a couple of years and she trusted her.

  Before she could decide, a call came through on the emergency line. Jody tapped a button and said, “Medical suite.”

  “This is the bridge. Medical team needed to Galley Two immediately. A fire has been reported. Fire teams on their way and warning about to go out to all passengers. Medical assessment and first-aid station required.”

  Della had already swung into action, grabbing one of the first-aid backpacks that were stored in a cupboard near the door. “On our way,” Jody said, as she hung up and grabbed a second backpack.

  The door to the suite opened and their other nurse, Maree, came in. Della paused just long enough to say, “Fire in Galley Two. Page Cal then meet us down there,” before she and Jody slipped outside. Della’s pulse was fast and erratic. Fire was a ship’s worst enemy and she had no idea of the scale of what they were about to face. With any luck it would be small and already contained.

  As they ran along the corridors and down the stairs, a calm message came over the P.A. system advising passengers that there was a small fire in one of the kitchens, and as a precaution Section Four of the ship would be evacuated until the fire teams declared it safe to return.

  Thankfully, it was mid
morning on a day in port, and most of the passengers would already be sightseeing in the New Zealand capital, Wellington. Passengers all received a solid briefing on emergencies when they first boarded, but this would be a heck of a lot simpler with most of them ashore.

  They reached the closed doors that marked the edge of Section Four. Max, a steward from the premium suites, was standing guard. In the event of a fire, crew members had assigned roles—everyone was part of the emergency plans and fire drills.

  “What have we got, Max?” she asked, slightly out of breath. She took in the small crowd of galley staff who had been evacuated from the exclusion zone.

  Three more crew members rushed down the corridor, still adjusting their helmets, and Max stepped aside to let them through as he answered.

  “The first team hasn’t been in long, but the fire seems to be contained to Galley Two. There’s an office on the left you can use as a first-aid station.”

  “Thanks.” Della and Jody dropped their backpacks just as a few more of the galley staff were led out through the doors, looking a little dazed. Max pointed them to Della and she and Jody got to work checking them for burns and smoke inhalation.

  Another group of galley staff emerged just as Cal came through the door and grabbed a pair of surgical gloves. “Where do you want me?”

  Della looked up from dressing a minor burn on a chef’s forearm. “Check the office next door. If it’s got room, take Maree and start a second station.”

  “Roger.” Cal disappeared with Maree, then reappeared and invited some of the lined-up galley crew to the second room. Della grabbed a rubber band from the desk in the office and put her hair up. The air-conditioning would have been turned off in the next section by now and even on this side of the wall it was warming up.

  More people trickled in, some coughing—most had breathed smoke before they’d made it out and many had minor burns as they’d tried to contain the fire. The smell of smoke and fire lingered in the air, but no one was panicking—they trained regularly for this.