CRUISE TO ROMANCE

by Poznanski, Toby

  CHAPTER THREE

  Ryan Treymont was in a mood. The more he thought about his behavior last night, the angrier he got. Just what did he think he was doing romancing a nice, sweet, and ever so slightly intoxicated woman? So what if she was sexy? And funny? And loving? And completely irresistible? He had no excuse. He had absolutely no intention of becoming emotionally involved with anyone. A woman like her would want more than just a brief love affair while that was all he was willing to offer.

  Four years ago he’d learned first-hand just how devastating broken romances could be. Young and full of dreams, Ryan had been in love with Diane, his beautiful, cool, sophisticated fiancée, his prize for grabbing the brass ring. With coal black hair, dark brown eyes, and a voluptuous body, no one had twisted his arm to propose to the daughter of his largest and wealthiest client. Proposed, he had. Marriage to a woman like Diane came along with the territory, the territory of the professional and prosperous. She would make the perfect hostess, with her impeccable manners, flawless speech, and her knowledge of how to succeed in society. During their courtship, she seemed to satisfy his physical needs as well. Now he wondered. He couldn’t remember ever seeing her ignite in his arms as Jennifer had.

  Getting over Diane and getting his life back on track hadn’t been easy. Determined to succeed, he had focused on building Exercisetech and slowly repressed his desire for her. Did he still have feelings for Diane? The thought niggled at him.

  After his mother died, his dad had remarried, hoping to create a loving, stable environment for his six sons. But after one year, the sweet young woman became restless and called it quits, leaving his father and his hungry brood. But his Dad had stayed, wrapping them in his warmth and strength, keeping them a family despite hard times.

  Ryan’s experiences with Diane had reinforced what he had already learned about women. Too often they were in love with love, but when life became difficult, they had no staying power. As soon as the going got rough, they bailed out.

  Diane had been the perfect fiancée, loving, agreeable, and charismatic, even though Ryan’s company was in its infancy and money was tight. As long as Exercisetech aimed its sights for merger with a larger well-known company, Diane seemed content in their engagement. When Ryan made the decision not to go through with the merger, Diane became restless. After finding her in the arms of a wealthy competitor, Ryan realized he’d made a mistake.

  Breaking off the engagement had been one of the most difficult choices of his life, and a painful one. Perhaps Diane had been too young to be happy with one man, but he suspected that Exercisetech’s future success had been a driving force in her goals.

  Ryan had been so sure of Diane’s love and devotion for him. It was still hard for him to look at the past objectively. Even now, Diane wanted him back. She had called him several times before the cruise telling him that they both had made a mistake in walking away from their engagement. Ryan listened to her enticing arguments and protestations of love, but still suspected her motives. Her timing couldn’t have been better now that Exercisetech was becoming a nationally known company.

  Ryan still questioned his feelings for Diane. Did he still love her? Was that why he was so unwilling to look for a lasting relationship? It was a foregone conclusion that he didn’t want to go through the pain again or subject someone else to it. Maybe love wasn’t as enduring as everyone wanted to believe. Hell, he still enjoyed women and he wasn’t going to give them up. Besides, he truly believed he had plenty to offer them, just not commitment. Brief affairs satisfied his needs just fine. The women he dated knew what they were getting into and nobody got hurt.

  Ryan finished his set of sit-ups and walked over to the treadmill. If he worked hard enough, maybe he could subdue the overwhelming need he felt. He could still feel Jennifer’s hot sexy body against him; he could still taste her unique flavor; he could still smell her exotic scent. Never had a woman affected him so quickly, so deeply, so completely. She was relatively inexperienced, no matter how wild she had turned in his arms. With that thought, he became aroused all over again. He adjusted the dial on the treadmill, slipped on a cuff that monitored his pulse, and began walking.

  What was he going to do? She would be expecting to see him again. She would be wanting him again, in her arms. After last night she would be wanting to kiss him just as passionately as he wanted to kiss her. No doubt about it. It was there in her eyes. Now that was a thought guaranteed to get him overheated in a hurry. He increased the speed of his walk as his blood pressure soared. Glancing out the window to the distant horizon, he noticed a delicate pink glow. Daybreak. Maybe, he thought sardonically, if he wore himself out, his mind and his body would be able to forget her for just a few minutes.

  * * *

  Jennifer Mitchell was in a snit. She’d slept well—too well. Awakened from her sleep when she heard the knock on the door this morning, she’d assumed it was Sheila—her former friend who hadn’t bothered to make it back to their cabin last night. Then, half awake and still groggy, she’d opened the door and accidently let in the smiling steward from room service. She didn’t mean to be unappreciative that her breakfast was delivered on time. It was just that she would have preferred to have been fully clothed, rather than in a skimpy chemise. Thankfully, the man had rushed out before she realized her dilemma.

  Never before had she slept so soundly. Never before had she suffered from a hangover. With a moan, she rummaged through her toiletries for some aspirin. Grabbing a bottle, she headed for the balcony where her breakfast waited. Sighing with relief, she took the aspirin and sipped some orange juice. Coffee. She wanted—no—needed, coffee. Her hand trembled as she began pouring the fragrant coffee into a white porcelain cup. Coffee had never tasted so good.

  Ah, relief! She leaned back into the lounge chair and stretched, feeling the warm morning sun shining on her delicate skin. Looking down at her body, she frowned. Good grief! What was she doing still lying here on the balcony in her delicate chemise? After one night with a man and one long, one very long, good night kiss, she was coming completely unglued.

  This would never do, she scolded herself, it would never, never do. But she didn’t get up to find her robe. Instead she sipped her coffee and wondered at her madness. Did she really lose her self-control the instant his mouth met hers or was it the romantic island music that hypnotized her? Did her body really crave his touch or was it the romantic dancing that lured her into believing she needed his touch as much as she needed her next breath? Had she lost control in his arms because of his overwhelming masculinity or because she had one margarita too many? Were his kisses as tender as she remembered or was she deluding herself?

  Even though she was still a virgin, she certainly didn’t feel like one now. Last night every part of her had burned for him. There was no getting around it. With him, she was easy. Margaritas or no Margaritas, she had wanted him, pure and simple. She still did and that bothered her immensely. What had happened to her independent, “I don’t need any man” streak? She was just an easy conquest for him, Mr. Gorgeous, Mr. Sophisticated Man-of-the-World. He was probably laughing his head off this morning, telling his friends about the accommodating little cook with the big appetite.

  Then too, she was peeved at Sheila. Why didn’t Sheila tell her that Ryan Treymont would be at dinner? Was she hiding the fact so that she could have him all to herself or did she really not know the name of Mike’s brother? If she was keeping his identity secret, why was Sheila so set on having Jennifer join her at dinner? Thankfully Sheila didn’t know the man Jennifer was supposed to meet was Ryan. That was one secret she intended to keep.

  “Jennifer, what in the world are you doing?” Sheila’s voice broke through Jennifer’s reverie.

  “I’m in a snit and it’s a really good one, so leave me be,” Jennifer’s petulant voice warned.

  “You’re practically naked.”

  “So?”

  “So, how is breakfast?” Sheila asked, holding back a laugh.
<
br />   “You’re late.” Jennifer looked up at Sheila’s smiling face. “I guess you could have a pastry, if you want.”

  Sheila lowered herself into a chair and reached for a cherry Danish. “Thanks. Care to tell me about it? What did Mr. Gorgeous do to get you into this really good snit?”

  “It’s not him, Sheila. He was wonderful. It’s me.” She sighed. “I’m easy.”

  “As in horizontally accessible?”

  “Humph. Very funny,” she sniffed.

  “Oh, sweetie, don’t think that. It’s just chemistry. It hummed around the two of you at the table all through dinner. I was sure the table would go up any minute in flames.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” Sheila stood up and went back into the cabin, returning with Jennifer’s robe. “Here, Jenn. Put this on before you burn.”

  Jennifer ignored the robe and looked up at Sheila. “Why didn’t you tell me that Ryan would be at dinner? That seems like a rather large omission for a friend to make.”

  “Because I didn’t want to spoil your evening with a man you wanted to be with. I thought you had found a man that you really liked and I wanted you to enjoy yourself. It seems to me your life has been short on fun since you came to Ft. Lauderdale.” Sheila sat back down and reached for her unfinished Danish. “Why did you join us for dinner? I thought you had other plans?”

  She really is a good friend, Jennifer thought. It would be so easy to confide in Sheila, but she still felt embarrassed that Ryan stood her up last night. Even though he apologized, she wasn’t sure she should give him the benefit of the doubt. Her experience with men was truly limited while his experience with women was painfully broad. Jennifer glanced over at Sheila. She was her best friend and had always treated her with respect and kindness. She deserved an answer. Sheila was a caring woman, always giving freely her time and advice. They shared a closeness between them that boarded on family.

  “Truthfully, Sheila,” Jennifer sighed, staring at the robe lying across her legs, “the man stood me up.”

  “Then he did you a favor.” Sheila licked the sugar off her fingers and smiled at Jennifer. “Did you like Mike?”

  Jennifer nodded. “He seems to be full of fun.”

  “Oh, he is. We danced at the disco until they closed.” Sheila closed her eyes and tilted her face to absorb the warmth of the early morning sun. “While we walked the pool deck, he told me more about himself and his family. Their mom died shortly after he was born. Can you imagine being raised by a Dad and five older brothers? I bet it was hard to get away with anything growing up.”

  “I doubt that. If anything he was probably spoiled rotten.”

  “Think so?”

  “From that wicked grin of his, I definitely think so.”

  “Well, he does seem a little spoiled when it comes to women, but he can’t hold a candle to his brother Ryan.” Sheila gave Jennifer a speculative look. “But he is a good lover.”

  “Hold on.” Jennifer ordered. “Go back. What’s this about Ryan? Are you insinuating that Ryan has been spoiled by women?”

  “According to Mike, they fall at Ryan’s feet from his sheer magnetism alone. Of course, he’s probably exaggerating just a little.”

  “Humph.” Jennifer’s snit took a nose dive into deeper water. She stood up and stretched. So there was plenty of reason behind that macho arrogance. Women probably begged for his attention if last night was any indication of his ability as a lover. She was sure it was. After all, she definitely remembered begging. As she slipped into her robe, Jennifer wondered how she would ever face Ryan again. She just couldn’t bear to be laughed at. What would Mr. Gorgeous want with one slightly plump, unsophisticated cook who loved to eat? She dropped back down on the lounge and, for a moment, studied her feet.

  “You spent all night with Mike, a man that you don’t love. Yet you feel secure in starting a relationship. What if he doesn’t want a relationship with you? How do you do it, Sheila? How do you face him the morning after?”

  “Come on, Jenn.” Sheila grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the lounge. “You need a shower and a new outlook.” She paused for a moment at the sight of the uncertainty in Jennifer’s expression. “You’re missing an important point. It isn’t about what he wants, it’s about what I want. If he appears uninterested today, then I will assume that he isn’t capable of filling my needs or he isn’t man enough to, and consider myself lucky.”

  Jennifer shook her head in disbelief. How could any woman not feel rejected?

  “It’s all in the attitude,” Sheila said, guiding Jennifer to the shower.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “You will, Jenn. You will.”

  * * *

  Chef Mario Ruscelli was having a bad day. It was evident from the very first moment that Jennifer saw the man. The chef appeared to be a pompous man, full of his own self-importance, prone to ranting and raving. Cooking in his galley would be challenging to say the least! Especially when he constantly talked to some invisible force, as if she wasn’t present.

  “How dare the Captain expect me to entertain some young dilettante in my galley?” he asked without expecting her to answer. “Ah—the arrogance of the English! Why must I suffer this woman while she cooks a Caribbean dinner for the Captain’s table? After all, I am only Commendatore Mario Ruscelli, the Corporate Executive Chef.”

  “Chef Ruscelli, I assure you, I will not cause you any problems. The Captain asked me to plan and prepare the meal. Surely, you don’t mind.” Jennifer tried to calm the chef, hoping that he would see reason.

  “Signora. Lady. You do not understand. Elegant Italian cooking is the hallmark for dining aboard this ship. I supervise and take great pride in the fabulous Italian meals prepared and served in all the dining rooms. The last thing I need is to waste my precious creative time and energy with a mere amateur.”

  “Chef Ruscelli, I am no amateur. Not only am I an excellent chef, I am also a columnist. I write a cooking column for a newspaper in Ft. Lauderdale. I also am writing two cookbooks. That’s why I’m on this cruise. One of the books is on Caribbean cooking.”

  “Caribbean cooking? How utterly shocking to the palate—all that salt and pepper and vinegar. Not even balsamic vinegar at that! What could the Captain be thinking? If I don’t object, this little episode could turn into a regular occurrence on every cruise. Dio! Not if I can help it.”

  Jennifer waited patiently, trying not to lose her temper. For the life of her, she couldn’t figure out just what he was so upset about. Was it that she was a female chef, or was it the Caribbean cooking?

  “Perhaps I will agree to let you use my kitchen. Perhaps if this meal is a disaster, I will be able to breathe easy and the Captain will not dream up any more foolishness! However, I must think on this.”

  Jennifer bristled. “Chef Ruscelli, the meal will not be a disaster.”

  Chef Ruscelli again ignored her. “In the meantime, I have no choice but to issue an invitation to you to use my galley, and, of course, be charming. Not that charming a woman is a problem. Charm is synonymous with being an Italian male—of that I am extremely positive.”

  “Oh, pul-leeze.” Jennifer shook her head in total disbelief. “I only want to prepare a nice Caribbean meal for the Captain and my friends. Surely you can’t object to that.”

  Chef Commendatore Mario Ruscelli, frowned and walked away muttering. “I can only hope she is no good. After all, rumors will fly if the amateur’s dinner is successful. Caribbean cooking. Oh, no. No, no, no. Mama Mia, my reputation will be ruined faster than I can say ‘Buon appetito!’”

  * * *

  Helga Swensen was teed off but good. Jennifer knew—even though Helga was trying not to criticize the Captain. According to Helga, the Captain had made it abundantly clear that she must incorporate the marketing of the new gym equipment into her spa treatments and routine. It wasn’t that Helga had anything against exercise, but her spa was known for its relaxation and peace.

&nbs
p; Lying on the massage table, Jennifer listened while Helga massaged her tense back. After her encounter with the arrogant chef, she needed to relax. Listening to Helga reminded her that she wasn’t the only one finding situations aboard ship stressful.

  “Oh, Jenny, I shudder to think of my future consultations when I have to include, ugh, the suggestion to exercise on high-tech exercise equipment. Exercise is so, well, sweaty, for one thing. Smelly, for another.”

  “That is so true,” Jennifer agreed.

  “Then too, just as there is a separation between church and state, so should there be a separation between the spa and exercise equipment. Exercise is good for toning muscles and building physical strength. The spa is good for relaxing and building inner strength. The services that I provide: massage, aromatherapy, hydrotherapy, body care, facial care, all promote internal balance and help to normalize the body’s functions. Like oil and vinegar, exercise equipment and spa therapy should not be combined.”

  “I couldn’t agree with you more,” Jennifer added. “I came here to relax, not to wear myself out on an exercise machine.”

  “Then, of course, there are those men with their hard bodies and especially hard whatever. I am already having difficulty sparring with them and keeping their advances in check with a smile on my face. Men can be so, well, difficult. These Exercisetech men need lessons in romance, or better still, lessons in turning down the testosterone. They are about to descend upon some of my unsuspecting customers with those heaving chests and bulking arms. How much can some of these poor women take before throwing themselves at the men? Most of them have never even seen a man built like these young gods. Ryan Treymont can just take his exercise equipment and his perfect six pack and leave me alone to ply my trade.”

  “Did Ryan make a pass at you?” Jennifer could feel her back start to tighten again.