Farewell Seas

by Lily Harper Hart

  “That’s what I’m sorry about.”

  “Rowan.” Quinn’s eyes lit with determination. “Tell me.”

  She pointed toward the screen. “The last thing we need is another problem, but we officially have one.”

  Quinn followed her finger and frowned when he saw the photograph on her screen. It was of Rosalind. She stood on the deck, her back to the water, and struck a ridiculous pose in a floppy hat. That wasn’t the cause for concern, though. No, the thing that had Rowan worked up was the telltale omen that appeared in the corner of the photograph. Quinn had been around her long enough to recognize it immediately ... and he wasn’t happy with the turn of events.

  “No, no, no.” He grabbed her laptop and looked closer, as if he could make the omen go away if he stared long enough. “She’s going to die.”

  “Unless we do something about it,” Rowan agreed, her expression serious. “I’m sorry. If I’d looked yesterday like I should have ... this is my fault.”

  “Knock that off!” Quinn was in no mood to play the blame game. “You can’t take the weight of the world on your shoulders. It doesn’t work that way. We don’t know that we can save her.”

  Rowan balked. “I know you didn’t like her, but we still have to try.”

  “Oh, we’re going to try.” He was grim. “I just need to decide how.”

  “I have an idea, in case you’re interested.”

  “Really? Lay it on me.”

  IF PAUL WAS ANNOYED at being woken so early in the morning for a plotting session, he didn’t show it. He was at Rowan’s room twenty minutes later and he did little more than arch his eyebrows when a shirtless Quinn ushered him into the room.

  “Rowan is in the shower,” Quinn explained. “She’ll be out in a minute.”

  “Okay.” Paul narrowed his eyes as he watched Quinn head to the closet to retrieve a shirt. “Do you live here with her?”

  “What? Oh, no. I have my own room. We spend every night together, though, and for some reason we tend to do it here because her equipment is cumbersome to move around and it’s easier for her to keep it in one place. I move clothes in and out of the closet depending on my laundry schedule.”

  “Uh-huh.” Paul folded his arms over his chest. “I know I have no place saying this, but I’m uncomfortable knowing that you’re sleeping with my daughter. I mean … I kind of knew, but I didn’t know know, if you know what I mean?”

  “Oh, yeah?” Quinn wasn’t about to be bullied. “I’m uncomfortable knowing you abandoned your daughter. I think we both have a few things to get over.”

  Paul scowled. “I don’t think it’s the same thing.”

  “It’s not,” Quinn agreed. “However, I love Rowan and I’m not changing our lifestyle to appease you. I happen to think that I can read her moods fairly well and I know what she needs at any given time. Last night she was so relieved that things didn’t blow up in her pretty face she needed to laugh a little so we watched reruns of The Golden Girls in bed before drifting off. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Paul was understandably flummoxed. “No. I ... no. I don’t have a problem with that.” He was quiet for a beat. “She used to watch that show with her mother. My wife, she loved that show. It was her mother’s favorite and she passed the love on to Rowan.”

  “Rowan is a joy to be around.” Quinn chose his words carefully. “She is the best person I know. She’s still an adult, and we do adult things together. You might think it’s disrespectful to talk about those things, but it is what it is. I’m not leaving her or changing how we do things so you’re going to have to be the one to adjust.”

  Paul held Quinn’s gaze for a long beat before exhaling heavily and nodding. “That seems fair. I’m not trying to be a pain, just so you know. It’s just ... the last time we were together she was a teenager. I would’ve protected her from boys her age if asked – actually even if not asked – and it’s hard for me to get into a different mindset.”

  “I’m not those boys.” Quinn was calm. “I love her. I have no intention of ever being with anyone else again. She’s it for me.”

  “So ... basically you’re saying that I should get used to you, huh?” Paul smiled slyly. “I guess you just put me in my place.”

  “I’m saying that I’m not going anywhere,” Quinn clarified. “You and I are going to have to find a way to coexist if we want her to get everything she’s ever wanted. Now, I don’t know about you, but I want her happy. That means I’m willing to work with you.”

  Paul made a face. “I want her happy, too.”

  “Then suck it up and get over yourself.” All business, Quinn grabbed Rowan’s laptop from the table and held it so Paul could see the screen. “Do you see our problem?”

  Paul furrowed his brow as he stared at the photo, the omen he recognized from Rowan’s childhood staring back at him. “Rosalind is slated to die,” he said dully, rubbing his forehead. “That’s not good.”

  “Definitely not,” Quinn agreed. “The thing is, if a second Grand Dame is in the crosshairs of a killer, I think we can reasonably assume that you’re not involved in what’s happening. The Grand Dames are the targets.”

  “I hadn’t even considered that.” Paul brightened considerably. “That’s good news, right?”

  “Not for Rosalind.”

  “Definitely not for Rosalind.”

  “I’m working some angles to find her real name and dig up information, but I have more people to question today,” Quinn explained. “That means someone has to watch Rosalind. Now, usually I would make my men follow her, but that’s obtrusive and often hard to explain. We have a different situation in this go-around.”

  “What in the … ?” Realization dawned on Paul after the words were already out of his mouth. “Oh, geez. You’re talking about me. You want me to hang out with Rosalind and serve as protection.”

  “No, I want you and Rowan to hang out with Rosalind. It can serve as a bonding exercise while, at the same time, making sure no one strangles her and dumps her over the side of the ship.”

  Paul opened his mouth to argue and then snapped it shut. “You’re very good at manipulating people. I see what you’ve done here.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “I want to spend time with Rowan and you’ve fabricated a way for me to do it. The way just happens to benefit you at the same time.”

  “I’m a great multitasker.” Quinn’s grin was quick and mischievous. “Are you in?”

  Paul nodded without hesitation. “You know I am. I’ll take whatever I can get right now. If I help, Rowan might be willing to loosen up a bit.”

  “That’s the spirit.” Quinn clapped Paul on the shoulder and lowered his voice because the water was no longer running in the bathroom. “Don’t push her too hard. Let her come to you. She’s not going to be able to stop herself from bonding with you because it’s in her nature to love freely.”

  Paul sighed. “You really do know her well.”

  “She’s the one thing in this world I can’t live without. We’re going to have to suck it up and get used to each other. That’s all there is to it.”

  PAUL FOLLOWED QUINN’S ADVICE and introduced Rowan to Rosalind shortly after breakfast. He claimed that he was researching life on a cruise ship — the vacation gave him a few story ideas — and Rowan had happily acquiesced to answering questions. To further ensnare Rosalind, Paul suggested that she might want to do the same thing because it would be a lucrative new niche.

  Even though she was initially suspicious, Rosalind acquiesced and agreed to hang with Rowan. The idea of being able to launch her own niche — much like Julia had been able to do — was something Rosalind couldn’t pass up. Paul recognized that and manipulated her accordingly.

  Rowan couldn’t help being impressed. Of course, that didn’t make her like Rosalind one iota more than Quinn did. In truth, the woman was completely and totally insufferable.

  “What are crew rooms like?” Rosalind asked from her spot bene
ath an umbrella. She was sipping something that suspiciously looked like a Long Island Iced Tea to Rowan, but she didn’t volunteer her early-morning alcohol choices, so Rowan obviously couldn’t question her.

  “My room is pretty small,” Rowan admitted. “I’m guessing the entire thing — including the bathroom — is smaller than your closet.”

  Rosalind frowned. “Well, that’s disconcerting. How do you stay on the ship without getting depressed?”

  Rowan shrugged as she snapped a few photographs of people on the deck. “I don’t really think about it. I’m only in the room for sleep most days. I have an office for work, although I basically split my time between the office and the deck depending on the weather.

  “During the day, I spend all my time on deck working,” she continued. “That’s when we’re at sea, of course. When we’re at port, we spend all our time on the beach or at area stores and restaurants. We still only sleep in the rooms, though.”

  “Hmm.” Rosalind adopted a far-off expression as she tapped her bottom lip and considered her potential story. “Basically you’re saying it’s close quarters. I think I can make this work. Perhaps I’ll have a prince flee his country and head to America on one of those cruises that spans the Atlantic Ocean. He’ll take on a job to hide his identity ... and fall in love with the ship’s photographer. I like where this is heading.”

  Rowan and Paul exchanged a quick look of amusement before hurriedly looking away. If they held eye contact too long, Rowan was afraid one of them (or both, for that matter) would break out in guffaws, and explaining what was funny could very well be disastrous given the size of Rosalind’s ego.

  “That’s definitely a story I would read,” Rowan said finally, tabling her laughter as she took a few more photographs. “P.J. said you would probably have a lot of questions about living on a ship. What other questions do you have?”

  “What about fraternization?” Paul asked quickly, catching Rowan off guard. “Is that allowed, or do you have to hide it?”

  “Very good question.” Rosalind bobbed her head approvingly. “Is it something that has to be kept secret?”

  Rowan shook her head. “We’re allowed to date. I mean ... it’s not supposed to interfere with our duties, but I think the cruise line owners are wise enough to realize that you can’t put hundreds of workers together on a floating island without allowing them to date. That wouldn’t go over well.”

  “Good point.” Rosalind tapped her bottom lip. “I’ve seen you with the rather yummy security chief. Are you two together?”

  Frankly, Rowan was surprised that Rosalind took the time to focus on anybody but herself. In truth, the woman was insufferable. She was full of herself and derogatory to others. It was an annoying combination.

  “We are together,” Rowan confirmed, seeing no reason to lie. “He’s a wonderful man.”

  “He’s a handsome man,” Rosalind corrected. “He looks like he should be on the front cover of a book. That’s exactly what we told him when he met with us.”

  Rowan tried to picture Quinn standing shirtless in front of a motorcycle, or in nothing but a tie, and smiled. He would look better on a cover than most. Of course, she could pretty much guess exactly how he reacted to the possibility of posing for Rosalind’s books.

  “I’m guessing Quinn turned you down,” Rowan said, biting back laughter. “Was he at least polite when doing it?”

  “He was very polite, but I don’t think he realizes what a goldmine he’s passing up. He could be one of the most popular cover models out there. He wouldn’t even have to show his face if that’s an issue. A lot of the covers just show chests.”

  “Really?” Despite herself, Rowan was intrigued. “Maybe I’ll get him to pose for me and sell the photos for covers. If no one knows it’s him, it might be sort of fun ... especially the modeling sessions.”

  Paul scorched her with a look. “I’m starting to get uncomfortable.”

  That was an odd thing to say but, as usual, Rosalind was so caught up in herself she didn’t even notice.

  “I don’t want you selling his photos to just anyone,” she countered. “I want to use him for my books. I want exclusive rights. Work it out for me and perhaps I’ll be able to get you a job helping with cover design and you can leave this life of drudgery.”

  The comment grated, and it took everything Rowan had for her not to explode. “That’s a nice offer,” she said finally. “I have a contract to fulfill, though. I’m on The Bounding Storm for at least another year and a half.”

  “Too bad for you.” Rosalind was blasé as she craned her neck to look for a waitress. “I need another drink. The staff here isn’t very good, are they?”

  Paul’s expression was thoughtful when Rowan risked a glance in his direction. “I didn’t realize how that worked. You’re not hourly employees, huh?”

  Rowan shook her head. “Salaried. It works out because a lot of the time we have to work late when the ship is at sea. When we return to port, though, we get extra free time. I actually like it a great deal and I wasn’t sure I would.”

  “Do you plan on staying here for good, though? I mean ... is this going to be your career?”

  Rowan wasn’t sure how to answer. She and Quinn had talked about the future, but it was in very vague ways. She honestly had no idea where they would end up.

  “I don’t know. I don’t think we’ll stay on the ship forever. Where we’ll end up is the ultimate question. I like the beach ... and the water. I would like to end up in a place where I have access to both. I guess that’s something we’ll have to tackle down the road.”

  “Yeah.” Paul licked his lips. “I live on a lake. It’s not the same as an ocean, but it’s nice.”

  “A lake, huh?” Rowan tried to picture her father living on a lake after she spent ten years assuming he drove into one and died. “I guess that sounds nice.” Her voice was shaky. “Do you always think you’ll live on a lake?”

  “I don’t know. I have no idea what the future holds.”

  “I live in a penthouse,” Rosalind volunteered, even though absolutely no one was interested. “It looks over Central Park. I have a maid ... and a butler ... and an assistant. I have a personal masseuse, too. His name is Jorge and I insist he conduct my massages shirtless.”

  Rowan snapped her head in Rosalind’s direction. “What? That’s sexual harassment.”

  Rosalind snorted. “It most certainly is not. It would only be sexual harassment if I was a man and he was a woman.”

  “I don’t think that’s how it works.”

  “Well, I know how it works and it’s fine.” Rosalind was firm. “Now ... I need another drink and the waitstaff on this ship is abysmal.” She pushed her empty glass toward Rowan. “Be a dear and get me another cocktail, will you? I’ll have more questions prepared when you get back.”

  Rowan glared daggers at the back of Rosalind’s head but acquiesced. The whole point of the morning activities was to keep the woman safe ... even if she was absolutely horrible in every way imaginable.

  “Sure. I’ll get your drink. Long Island Iced Tea, right?”

  “Yes, but keep that to yourself. I don’t want anyone knowing I’m drinking before noon. That’s often frowned upon in polite circles.”

  “It will be our little secret.”

  13

  Thirteen

  A morning spent with Rosalind was almost more than Rowan could bear. When Quinn joined their little group, he managed to serve as something of a distraction ... although it wasn’t the sort of distraction he enjoyed.

  “There you are.” Rosalind was three-quarters of the way to drunk and she waved gaily at him from beneath the huge hat. “We were just talking about you.”

  “You were?” He arched an eyebrow and looked to Rowan for confirmation.

  Puzzled, Rowan merely shook her head. “Not really.”

  “Yes, we were.” Rosalind shook her glass. “It’s empty again.”

  Paul collected the glass from her
but didn’t move to refill it. “I think you should have lunch before you continue with ... your other plans.” He looked pained at having to be the voice of reason, but he didn’t back down. “If you don’t eat something and soak up all that alcohol, you’re going to lose the day.”

  Rosalind’s expression turned dark. “Why do you care?”

  “I’m simply looking out for you.”

  “And he’s right,” Quinn said. “If you get too drunk, my team will have to escort you to your room until you sleep it off.” Honestly, he was intrigued by the prospect. That would save them some worry for a few hours. “It’s up to you, of course, but I would suggest getting lunch and allowing your system a bit of time to regroup.”

  Rosalind’s expression switched to one of open flirtation when she turned back to Quinn. “Has anyone ever told you that you could be a model?”

  Rowan pressed her lips together to keep from laughing at Quinn’s expression. “Actually, now that she mentions it, we did talk about that earlier. She wants you to be on the cover of her books.”

  “I’m well aware,” Quinn muttered.

  “You left that out when telling me the story of your initial meeting yesterday.”

  “There’s a reason.”

  Rowan knew exactly what that reason was. “I told her that I thought you would make a fantastic cover model. I think, if I take the photos, we could make a killing together.”

  Quinn extended a warning finger. “Don’t go there.”

  “Why not?” Her tone was wheedling. “Don’t you want to be the object of fantasy the world over for women of varying ages and economic status? I mean ... you could be the imaginary boyfriend of thousands if you wanted.”

  “I prefer being the real-life boyfriend of one person ... although you’re testing that theory with this nonsense.”

  Rowan understood he was simply being blustery because he was uncomfortable, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Well, I’m not going to push you into anything you don’t want. It was merely a suggestion.”