Читать книгу Fearless - Fern Michaels - Страница 10

Chapter 3

Anna woke to the sound of a symphony. At first, she thought they’d gathered outside her door, performing solely for her. Lying flat on her back, it took a few seconds before she remembered where she was.

The cruise ship.

She opened one eye, then the other. Sunlight attacked her eyes. Quickly closing them, she moaned as she recalled the events of the night before. She’d had only two glasses of champagne. And a Xanax. Shit, she’d mixed an anti-anxiety drug with alcohol. A definite no-no. With her eyes closed, she inched her way upright into a reclining position, slowly, so as not to encourage her brain or her stomach to react to her stupidity.

Carefully, she opened her eyes again, and this time, the sunlight streaming in wasn’t so harsh. She realized that the symphony she thought was playing outside her door was in her head. A soft tempo pulsed against her temples. Knowing it wasn’t going to go away on its own, she forced herself out of the bed and into the bathroom. Part of her wanted to heave the vestiges of last night’s stupidity, but another part couldn’t deal with the idea of hanging her head down in order to accomplish the deed. What she considered the sane part of her reached inside the shower. Adjusting the temperature to icy cold, she stripped out of the heavy robe, amazed that she’d actually slept in something so bulky. Of course, she was still in the robe because she had passed out. And without overthinking the situation, she forced herself to stand beneath the icy jets of water.

Lucky for her, there was a seat built into the shower. She directed the waterfall toward her face, then sat down, letting the cool water wash away her brain fog. When she felt stable, she stood, adjusted the temperature to hot, and washed with the Guerlain body wash, and shampooed her hair with shampoo that smelled like orange blossoms. She quite liked it, and squinted to see the brand. Maybe they’d have it available for purchase. She would ask George.

George.

Rinsing the shampoo from her hair, she grabbed a thick towel and wrapped it around her hair and another around herself. On the marble counter, there was a toothbrush and toothpaste, not hers. But it would do until she unpacked. She looked at her image in the mirror. Her eyes were bloodshot and puffy. She really felt awful, but knew she’d feel better as soon as she had a cup of coffee and downed a couple of Advil. She’d never been much of a drinker, but there were quite a few times she remembered having more than two glasses of champagne. And she had never felt this crappy the next day. It had to be the Xanax on top of the bubbly. Anna was positive she’d never mixed the two before, and there was no way she would ever mix them again. Lesson learned.

She made a cup of coffee, thankful for the upscale espresso machine. As soon as the last drop filled the small white china cup, she brought it to her lips, inhaled the heady aroma, and took a sip of the rich, dark brew. “This is heaven,” she said aloud just to hear some sound in the room. Standing in the compact kitchen with nothing but the taste of premium coffee and her thoughts, she remembered she had told George that she would attend the welcome dinner. Had he sneaked into her room and seen her sprawled across the bed, passed out? She hoped not, but it was his job to tend to her. He probably thought she was an old drunk, looking for a man. She’d certainly understand if that was what he thought. She brewed a second cup of coffee and stepped out onto the balcony without the whirlpool. She didn’t remember closing the heavy drapes, so George must have come into her room at some point. She sat on the chaise lounge, not caring that she wasn’t dressed. She would enjoy this while she had the opportunity. That’s why Mandy insisted she take a vacation. To do what she wanted, when she wanted, without fear. Last night had put paid to that theory.

A light knock on her door sent her flying out of the lounge chair.

“Just a sec,” she called. Hurrying to the bedroom, she took a fresh robe from the closet, slipped her arms through the sleeves, then returned to the door. “Who’s there?” she asked, feeling like an idiot for even asking.

“Ma’am, it’s George. I’ve brought a tray for you,” he answered in that sexy Jamaican accent.

She adjusted the belt on her robe, planted a smile on her face, and opened the door. “Come in,” she said, feeling completely washed-out.

George was all smiles. He was wearing a crisp white jacket and matching pants creased to the nines. It was obvious that, unlike her, he had not awakened with a hangover. He was very easy on the eyes. She stood aside and allowed him to enter her suite with the rolling cart of what she guessed was breakfast.

“You were not well last night, Anna?” he asked, as he removed silver covers from several plates.

That was putting it mildly, but he didn’t need to know more than that. “I was a bit seasick, I think. I took Dramamine and slept like a log.” She hated lying to him but told herself sometimes a little white lie was necessary.

“Quite common,” he said, placing the plates on the dining table. “This is what we call ‘the morning after’ brunch. It should perk you up in no time.”

Food was the last thing on her mind, but he was right. She’d feel better with something in her stomach.

“This is enough for a family of four,” she said, eyeing all the food.

“This is a small feast, yes, but a bite of each and you’ll feel brand-new,” he said, a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eyes.

He pulled a chair out for her. Sitting down, she assumed that he was going to stand beside her and watch her eat. “Why don’t you join me?” she asked, certain that he would decline her invitation.

“Thank you. It will be my pleasure,” he said, and seated himself in the chair opposite her.

Did he think she was coming on to him?

She nodded and took another sip of her now-cold coffee.

“The green tea and honey are especially good for . . . your health.” He placed a tea bag inside a fresh cup, added a huge dollop of honey, then poured boiling water from a carafe over the tea bag.

“True, but I’m going to have another cup of this,” she replied, holding her cup in the air. Once in the kitchen, with her back to him, she asked, “Is this part of your duties? Having breakfast with me?” She waited for the dark brown liquid to fill the cup.

“Yes, it is, if required,” he answered.

Fair enough, she thought. Turning to face him, she leaned against the countertop, sipping the much-needed caffeine for the extra jolt it provided. “So how do you determine if this is required?” she asked, a smile on her face. She couldn’t help it. He was so handsome, so proper. Had he been twenty years older, she might be in trouble.

“I have my ways,” he said, filling her plate with scrambled eggs and slices of avocado.

“Look, I know what you’re thinking, and I’d think the same thing if I were in your position, but I only had two glasses of that champagne last night. What’s the alcohol content of that stuff anyway?” she asked, pretty sure of the answer but needing to say something in her own defense.

“Ah, the Veuve Clicquot. No more than any other quality champagne. Around twelve or thirteen percent, I believe, but I’m no Philippe Clicquot, the founder of the French champagne house, one of the largest in the world. After he died, his wife—they called her the Grande Dame of Champagne—took over for him. Very successful. I believe she was in her late twenties when she was widowed. Quite the businesswoman for her generation, she invented the first-known rosé champagne by blending red and white champagne wines, a process still used to this very day. Very brilliant woman, as most are.”

“I’m impressed,” Anna said. “You’re quite the sommelier and teacher.”

He took a bite of egg, then a sip of tea. “Some would say it’s part of my job to know these things.”

“Again, you’ve impressed me.”

“Eat, Anna. Please,” he implored, not bothering to acknowledge her compliment.

She sat down, feeling more like herself after her third cup of coffee.

“What time is it, anyway?” she asked. “I wanted to attend the cooking class.” She took a forkful of eggs and a slice of avocado. Chewing, she realized she was hungry and hadn’t eaten since yesterday afternoon. She took a slice of watermelon from the plate, a banana, and a few strawberries. All good hangover foods, she knew.

“It’s after two,” he said.

“In the afternoon?” She waved her hand in front of her. “Never mind. Of course, it’s afternoon,” she replied, answering her own question. Glancing outside to the balcony, she could tell by the sun’s position that it was midafternoon.

“You missed the class, but they will have another on the return trip. Tonight, there is a dancing contest. It’s always one of the most attended events. You should go.”

“I’m not much of a dancer,” she said. The only rhythm she possessed was in the kitchen.

“As you’ll find, most of the guests aren’t. However, many will lose all inhibition when a bit of alcohol is consumed.”

“That’s not going to be me. I am a teetotaler from here on in,” she said, then realized her mistake. “Possibly a fruity cocktail. I’ll have to get my sea legs before I indulge.” She almost added anymore but caught herself.

“Then I’ll leave you to finish and prepare yourself for tonight. The fun starts at seven o’clock. If there is anything you need,” he said, as he returned his chair beneath the table, “all you have to do is push a button. Enjoy your afternoon, Anna.” He nodded, then returned to wherever he was supposed to be.

“That was fast,” she said to no one.

Her first day at sea was a total flop. Literally. What to do until seven? She left the table, food and all, and returned to the chaise lounge. Unsure if George’s behavior was normal, she reached for the satellite phone extension and dialed Mandy’s cell.

“Hey,” Mandy said, sounding out of breath.

“Hey, back. You okay?” Anna asked.

“Out of shape is what I am. Hang on,” Mandy told her. “Okay, that’s better. I had to sit down. Christina is on a roller coaster. No way was I going with her. She’s fine. I had to trek across the park to the first-aid center. I’ve got blisters the size of golf balls.”

Typical Mandy. “Please tell me you’re not wearing those espadrilles? The ones with the four-inch platforms?”

Mandy didn’t answer.

“You are, aren’t you?”

“I didn’t realize SeaWorld was so . . . hilly.”

“Then go buy yourself a pair of sandals! I’m sure there has to be some sort of gift shop there that sells shoes. I can’t believe you,” Anna said, and laughed. “Looks before comfort, I know.” Those were the words Mandy lived by. “Hilly? Isn’t Florida as flat as West Texas?”

“Even more, if that’s humanly possible.”

“I have a question. . . .”

“I’m sure you do. Shoot,” Mandy said.

“My steward, George. Super nice guy, but I’m wondering exactly what his duties consist of. I slept in”—another lie—“and he knocked on my door, had enough food for a family, set the table, then I casually asked him to join me, and I wasn’t remotely serious. And he did. Is that normal?”

“Normally, no. I’ve never stayed in a cabin as luxurious as yours, but I’m sure the travel agent mentioned something about a personal butler. Did you ask him?”

“Yes, and he basically said the same thing. I just thought it a little strange. I’m not used to being catered to.” She’d never get used to it because she liked her privacy too much.

“I know what you’re thinking. Don’t read more into this. All I can say is, enjoy it while it lasts. We’ve a heavy-duty filming session for the upcoming fall season. Speaking of which, I’d give anything for a bit of cool weather. It’s humid as hell today. What about you?”

“I’m in the middle of nowhere, Mandy. The weather is”—she paused—“warm and sunny. Tell Christina I called. I’ll check in sometime tomorrow. “Remember, don’t let her out of your sight, and make sure you’re there when she exits the ride.”

“She’s fine. Tell me about the captain’s dinner. Did you meet anyone worth mentioning?”

She knew Mandy wouldn’t be satisfied without getting every detail she could. “I slept through the entire evening. I think I was . . . overtired. Plus, I had a Dramamine. So, no, I didn’t meet anyone worth mentioning.”

“Anna, please get your rear end out of that room and mingle. You can sleep later. Do you know how many women would love to trade places with you? You’re out of your mind if you don’t take advantage of all those single guys.”

She rolled her eyes, glad that she was alone. “I’m going to the dancing contest tonight. I have to be there at seven, so give my girl kisses, and I’ll talk to her tomorrow.” Before Mandy could say another word, Anna disconnected the call. Now wasn’t the time for a sermon. She felt bad enough as it was, wasting the entire evening, embarrassed that George had to deliver breakfast—rather . . . brunch—to her room. With that in mind, she returned to her room and unpacked. She hung all her dresses in the closet, put her lingerie in a drawer, and used another for her shorts and T-shirts. Before she did anything else, she took the bottle of Xanax out of her cosmetic bag and placed the bottle in the small safe in the back of the closet. She followed the instructions and assured herself the medication was secure, out of temptation for her or anyone else who entered her suite. Not that she didn’t trust George. Worse, she didn’t trust herself not to toss a couple pills in her bag, and at the first sign of a panic attack, pop them into her mouth.

Not wanting to go there, she decided she’d have a bath before the evening’s big event. She filled the tub with hot water and lowered herself into the sweet warmth. This was perfect. She used the Guerlain bath salts, the scent reminding her of a perfume her mother had worn. She knew it was still around but couldn’t recall its exact name. Later, she might research it, but now, all she wanted to do was soak her worries away, get all glammed up for the evening, and just enjoy being here. Mandy had taken the time to make all these arrangements with the travel agency. Her special coffee and the Norman Love chocolates she was so fond of. She was right; anyone in their right mind would envy such a luxurious vacation.

Anna was about to drift off when she heard a noise. Unsure if George would wait for her permission to enter, she eased out of the tub, wrapping herself in a towel, and went to the cabin’s main entrance. She waited but didn’t hear anything else. Deciding it was some sort of normal ship noise that she wasn’t aware of, she turned away and headed for her room and she heard the noise again. She stopped and waited.

Metal jiggling. Like keys in a pocket.

Could my stalker have followed me to the Caribbean?

It was probably someone passing her room who just happened to have keys in their pocket. Anna made a mental note to tell George not to enter her rooms when she was there unless she called for him or there was an emergency. While she appreciated the personal touch, she didn’t want to have him just walking in whenever he wanted. Sure, this wasn’t the cruise line’s policy, but she still needed him to know she had boundaries.

Back in her room, she picked out a lemon-yellow dress, a leftover from last summer but still stylish enough to wear that evening. She spent the next twenty minutes drying her hair, then twisted it into a sophisticated topknot. She added a powder foundation and a bit of blush and mascara. A touch of sheer lip gloss was enough. She wore so much makeup when they were filming, it would be good for her and her skin to have a break from all the heavy-duty stuff. This was her glam for the night.

Anna took out a small silver clutch and added her cell phone, just in case, the lip gloss, and her room key. No need for cash, a credit card, or an ID since her room key would be scanned, and all charges added to her final bill at the end of the cruise. She couldn’t imagine what damage she’d allowed Mandy to do to her bank account for this trip, but she’d live with whatever it was. With a smart financial advisor, Anna had secured not only her future but Christina’s, too. Her daughter would be able to attend the college of her choice provided her grades were up to par. Anna would never allow herself to become dependent on Christina or anyone else for that matter. She’d worked her ass off to be in this position, and no one would ever take it away from her.

A bit proud of her own success, she left her cabin, and decided that, come hell or high water, she was going to enjoy the evening.