Dreamboat (15 page)

“I still feel ‘off,' if you know what I mean, but it's no worse and maybe a little better.”

“Very good,” he said. “Do you feel feverish at all?”

Crissy shook her head. “No,” she replied. “I . . . Why don't you sit down? I am so rude. Here”—she indicated one of the chairs that faced her—“please take one of these.”

“Thanks.” He sat down and crossed one leg over the other so that one ankle rested on his knee. “Are you going to have an early night?”

Crissy nodded. “I came straight back here from dinner,” she said. “My dining companions were off to the show, but I thought I'd try to get a good night's sleep.”

“You're not going to be sneaking off to the disco later?” he asked.

“No,” Crissy said. “I'm not the greatest dancer around anyway.”

“I'm not either,” he said seriously. “I guess it's because I was always in school, always studying. I didn't have time for dancing or drinking—you know, the normal stuff other people did. So even now I feel like a fish out of water when I'm in social situations like that.” He looked at her, those sensuous lips set in a half smile.

Crissy found it difficult to believe that this man, obviously so good-looking, well-educated, and intelligent, could ever have felt that way. He was, she thought, a superb specimen. He was the sort of man who could walk into a room and draw everyone's attention simply by being there, as if he possessed an aura that held people in thrall. Now she understood his aloof behavior in the disco, while the captain and other officers socialized with passengers. It was not a part of the world that he was comfortable with yet.

“But you seem to have such a way with patients,” she said. Then she smiled. “Certainly from my perspective.”

“I'm trained as a doctor,” he said, “and the doctor-patient relationship seems to come naturally to me. I guess it's harder for me to deal with people when they aren't patients. On a more personal level, if you know what I mean.”

Crissy nodded. “I know what you mean,” she said. “It's like in my work. I'm a hair colorist, and some of my customers tell me their secrets, really intimate things. But outside the shop, I'm not their friend. Some of them wouldn't even give me the time of day outside the shop.”

“Oooh,” he said, “I don't believe that. You're so amiable, so easy to talk to. Why would they be that way?”

“I'm a colorist, for one thing,” she said, “so I'm not on their social level, you know?”

“But that's ridiculous,” he replied. “You're beautiful and smart. Besides,” he added, “America doesn't have a class system, does it?”

“Oh, please,” she said. “You don't believe that any more than I do. It may not be as rigid as in some places, but America definitely has a class system.”

He smiled mischievously. “Of course,” he said. “I know that. My mother is American. She grew up in Main Line Philadelphia and Palm Beach. And my father grew up in a Florentine palazzo, but he went to school in England. Eton and Oxford.”

A rich family,
Crissy thought. “I see,” she said. “That explains your perfect English.”

He paused, then asked, “You are from New York, right?”

“Yes,” Crissy said. “Upstate New York. Albany.”

“I love New York City,” he said. “So much energy and so sophisticated.”

“I do, too,” she replied, “but where I live is very different. It's not so big, and it's certainly not as sophisticated.”

“But you seem pretty sophisticated to me.”

Crissy laughed. “Don't put me on.”

“I'm not,” he protested. “Really.” He gazed at her for a moment, then said, “I'm Luca, by the way.” He put out a hand for her to shake.

“I'm Crissy,” she replied, “but you knew that.”

“Yes, but I didn't want to be too forward and call you that.”

“And I certainly wouldn't have called you anything but Dr. Santo,” she said with a laugh.

“Please call me Luca,” he said.

“It's a pleasure to meet you, Luca,” she replied.

“And it's very much a pleasure for me to meet you, Crissy,” he said. “I hope I can see you again.”

“I-I do, too,” Crissy said. Then before she could think, she added, “I would like that very much.”

“Wonderful,” he said. “I'd better get going now. I have to meet Captain Papadapolis for the nightly appearance at the disco.”

“Oh, so you're going partying,” she said.

“I wish you were going to be there,” he said. “Maybe then I would dance. With you.”

Crissy felt herself blush again. “I would like that, too,” she said. “Or just sitting and talking.”

He got to his feet, and Crissy rose from the couch to show him out. At the door, he turned to her. “Take care of yourself,” he said. “Have a good night's sleep.”

She nodded. “I will.”

He opened the door. “Good night.”

“ 'Night.”

He went down the corridor, and she closed the door behind him.
Oh, my God,
she thought.
I don't believe it. He's so smart and handsome and gentlemanly and sexy. Yes, that, too. And he said that I'm beautiful!

She felt like pinching herself to make certain that she wasn't dreaming. He had called her beautiful and smart, even sophisticated. She got back into bed and turned out the light.
I hope I see him again soon,
she thought.
He had to have meant what he said, didn't he?
Even after Mark had called her beautiful, she still didn't know what to make of the compliments. Mark, she felt, might have been playing with her. And he hadn't mentioned smart or sophisticated. Luca seemed utterly sincere. Her mind returned to that fateful night when she had met Tom Gentry, and the ensuing heartache she had endured because she had been convinced that they'd had something very special between them. She didn't believe that Luca Santo was capable of such deception, but she really didn't know enough about him to make a decision like that. What she did know was that she wouldn't give herself to him until she was convinced of his honesty and integrity. She'd have to stifle this physical yearning that she hadn't felt in a long time.
Yes,
she told herself,
you're not jumping into bed like Jenny. You're not like that.

She was still trying to convince herself when she finally fell asleep.

The man looked up and down the corridor. There was no one in sight. He quickly slid the key card down the groove, then shoved down on the door handle. The door opened silently and smoothly on its well-oiled hinges. Once inside, he quietly closed the door behind him and stood in the
entrance hall, his ears alert for any sign of habitation. He knew that Mark wasn't in the stateroom, but it was possible that a steward or some other ship employee had come in to perform some service.

When he didn't hear anything, he ventured into the large sitting room, scanning the room with a sweep of his eyes. His gaze fell at once on the steamer trunk, emblazoned with the large Vs. Placed against the wall, it was too big to be stored in one of the stateroom's closets. As many as there were in this luxurious suite, none of them would accommodate its size.

Approaching the trunk, he removed a key ring from his right-hand trouser pocket and found the oddly shaped brass key that fit the trunk's single lock. He inserted the key and opened the lid. An assortment of old quilts were piled in the trunk. Quickly and efficiently, he removed the quilts, neatly placing them on the floor, until he saw what he was looking for.

Near the bottom of the trunk, cushioned by a layer of quilts, the cache of plastic explosives, Semtex, lay inert and innocent, wrapped in plastic shopping bags from Hondos Center in Athens. He replaced the quilts he'd taken out and closed the lid atop it, then locked the trunk. Turning, he crept through the stateroom to the door. Opening it a mere hair, he looked out. A lone elderly woman was coming down the corridor. He closed the door, but kept his hand on the handle. When he heard her pass, he waited a moment, then opened the door once again and looked both ways. All clear. He slipped out of the stateroom, letting the door close behind him. It would automatically lock.

Feeling the cell phone in his pocket, he took it out. He would go out on deck to make the call where there was no one about. He could assure Georgios Vilos that the explosives were in place.

Chapter Nine

W
hen she awoke, Crissy felt much better, if not fully recovered. Jenny still hadn't come in, but she wasn't concerned. She took her time showering, then carefully put on makeup and got dressed. Her appetite had returned—she felt starved, in fact—so she went straight to the cafeteria-style dining room, the Sky Garden, on Deck Six. There were already a number of passengers about, most of them elderly. She got in line and filled her tray with scrambled eggs, bacon, yogurt, fruit, and mini croissants, then took a cup of coffee with sugar and cream. It was a huge breakfast for her, but she felt that she really needed it after eating so little the night before.

There were plenty of empty tables on the deck outside, so she took her tray to one and sat down. The sky was clear today, and the sea was calm. There was no land visible, but different seabirds looped in the air about the ship. She was sipping the rich aromatic coffee when a tall, skinny orange-haired woman passed her table at a fast pace, followed by a few elderly men and women, struggling to keep up with her. As Crissy watched, the line of power walkers trudged up a flight of stairs behind the woman, who stood walking in place at the top of the stairs, urging them on. She was obviously the German fitness expert who led the morning walk mentioned in the daily schedule and also held various fitness classes throughout the day.

“Well, well,” came a voice from behind her. “Eating alone?”

Crissy turned her head and saw Mark coming down the stairs. As before when she had met him, he was flawlessly dressed in a navy blazer, an ascot of red, paisley-patterned silk, a light blue shirt, and tan
trousers. His shoes shone with polish. His hair was swept back from his forehead, making his aquiline nose seem all the more impressive. She felt a flutter in her chest. He was certainly one of the most debonair men she'd ever met.

“Mind if I join you?”

“No,” Crissy replied. “Not at all.”

Mark sat in a chair next to her. “So, you really don't know who I am, do you?”

“I do now,” Crissy said. “My friend, Monika, told me after we danced last night, and now I know why you knew so much about the ship.”

“Yes,” Mark said. “And aren't you a little bit sorry you turned down a chance to visit my stateroom?” He gazed at her with a smile.

Crissy returned his smile. “I'm not so sure about that,” she said. “I've just met you, after all.”

“Afraid of me?”

“No,” she replied, “but I don't know you.”

“Maybe you should get to know me better,” he replied. “I don't like taking no for an answer, especially from a beautiful and sexy lady like you. I can see that you're a challenge, and I like that. Besides, I don't bite.”

“I didn't think you did,” Crissy said with a laugh. She was surprised and delighted by his straightforwardness.

“I didn't mean to scare you off,” he said in an apologetic voice. “I guess I came on a little too strong considering we'd just met.”

“Don't worry about it.” She was beginning to feel a little guilty. Besides his looks, Mark had great style and charm, she thought, and perhaps there was substance there as well. There was no doubt that he was appealing to her, and she had to admit that he was very sexy.

“I hope we can get better acquainted,” he said. He grinned. “Then I won't be so scary.”

“Oh, you're
not
scary,” Crissy said, feeling defensive. “I never thought that, Mark. I hope we can get to know each other better, too.”

“Good,” Mark said. “What are you doing today?”

“I'm going to Pompeii,” she said. “I can hardly wait.”

“It's fascinating,” Mark replied.

“So you've been?”

“Yes. Several times.”

“Tell me about it,” Crissy said. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not,” he replied amiably. His knowledge was vast, and she listened with interest as he shared information about the ancient site, trying to digest as much as she could.

“The eruption of Vesuvius that buried Pompeii was in 79 A.D.,” he said. “There were probably about twenty thousand people living there, and around two thousand were killed. I personally think that Herculaneum, which is not far away, is more interesting, but Pompeii is well worth the visit. You won't have time today, but someday you should see the museum in Naples, too. Some of the more interesting artifacts are there.”

“Why's that?”

“Because they can be protected better there than at Pompeii. Anyway, you're going to love the mosaics and murals and some of the statues and architecture. Things like that.”

As he spoke, Crissy gradually became impressed by his knowledge. Because of his handsomeness and his money, she supposed that it was easy to dismiss him as a nothing more than a playboy, but she discovered that he was very intelligent and had enthusiasm for what he was discussing. She had never met anyone with this combination of looks, money, charms,
and
brains, and she couldn't help but be taken in by him. His interest in her was all the more flattering.

“Wow,” she said when he finished. “You really know a lot about it.”

He shrugged. “Not that much really,” he said modestly. “It's just from having been there a few times and spending time in the area. I think the Bay of Naples and the Amalfi Coast and the islands are really beautiful. I hope you enjoy it.”

“I know I will,” she said.

“So what are you doing now?”

“I'm going to go change then get some sun.”

“I would ask to join you,” Mark said, “but I'm afraid you'd think I'm being pushy. You seem a little gun-shy to me, but maybe after you get to know me better you'll see that I'm really not such a bad guy.”

“I don't think you're a bad guy,” she said.

“Well . . . whatever. I'd better get going,” he said with a smile. “I hope I see you tonight at the disco.”

Crissy was surprised, and she had to admit that she was somewhat disappointed that he hadn't asked to join her sunning or if she'd go with him to the disco. The more she got to know him, the more attractive she found
him. His straightforwardness was refreshing. “That would be nice,” she said.

“I'll see you later, Crissy.” He rose to his feet. “Have a great time in Pompeii.”

“Thanks, Mark.”

He turned and left, and Crissy watched his tall, handsome figure disappear inside. Maybe I was a fool to turn down his invitation last night, she thought. I
am
on vacation, and what's the harm in having a little fun with a sexy guy like Mark? She sat for a few minutes longer, lost in thought, then pushed her chair back and rose to her feet.

She went through the sliding glass door into the dining room, then on down the staircase to the cabin. She changed into a bathing suit, put her kimono on over it, slipped into sandals, and put her book in her shoulder bag. Towels, she'd noticed, were provided at the pool.

When she reached the pool deck, she found a chaise longue in an area that wasn't yet crowded, dropped her shoulder bag on it, and spread a towel on the chaise.

After ordering a Coke Lite at the bar, she returned to the chaise and put on her sunglasses, then rifled through her shoulder bag for her novel. She began reading, but found herself distracted by the new arrivals and the people passing by on their way elsewhere. Several people were in the pool, and it delighted her to see that some of them were very old, with wrinkled, liver-spotted, sagging, too-skinny or too-fat bodies that some of her friends—Jenny, for example—would either find hilariously ugly or disgustingly repellant. She hoped that when she reached that age she would be as unselfconscious as these people were and could enjoy herself as much as they did.

The pool deck was a never-ending show in several different languages, but its attractions, even the laughter and splashing water, didn't keep her eyes from drooping shut in the heat of the sun. When she awoke, she was momentarily confused, but quickly realized where she was. The book had fallen to the deck, and her glass of Coke Lite sat half empty in a pool of water from condensation. She looked at her watch and was surprised to see that it was almost time for lunch. Gathering up her things, she went back to the cabin, showered, and changed clothes.

Deciding to have lunch in the formal dining room, where she would more likely see Monika, Mina, and the others, she climbed to Deck Five. The maître d' escorted her to their table, where all the others were seated.

“Oh, Crissy, darling,” Monika exclaimed. “I'm so happy to see you. How are you feeling today?”

“I'm much better, thanks,” Crissy said, taking a seat. She took the menu handed to her by the waiter and glanced down at it.

“Where is your friend?” Dr. Von Meckling asked.

“I'm not sure,” Crissy replied. “I think she's probably having lunch with another friend.”

“That young officer, no doubt,” Monika said.

“She seems to be enjoying his company,” Rudy said.

“Yes,” Crissy said. “I think they're having a good time together.”

“Do you feel up to going on one of the excursions today?” Monika asked.

Crissy nodded. “Yes, I'm going to Pompeii.”

“Oh, wonderful,” Monika said, clapping her hands together. “We are, too. That will make it all the merrier.”

The waiter appeared, and Crissy gave him her lunch order.

“Do you know if your friend is coming along?” Dr. Von Meckling asked.

“I don't,” Crissy replied.
Jeez,
she thought.
Is he obsessed with Jen or what?

“That young man again,” Monika said with a nod. “Too bad. She's wasting her time with him.”

“Why do you say that?” Crissy asked.

Monika shrugged. “Because, darling, he's only using her for a fling. He probably does this with a different young lady on every voyage. The girl-in-every-port syndrome, you know. Except that they're on the ship.”

“I'm not so sure that he's using her any more than she's using him,” Crissy said with a laugh. “Jen likes to play around.”

Crissy found that she did love Pompeii, as Mark promised, but she'd had no idea the site was so huge. She quickly discovered that it would take many days or many visits to see everything. After more than two hours of constant walking, awed as she was by the beauty of the ruins, she found herself glad to accept Monika's invitation to return to the Sea Gate, by which they'd entered, and have something to drink at a sidewalk café across the street.

“I had no idea that it still smells like the site of a fire,” Crissy said as they exited the city. “Did you smell it?”

“Well, it was a vast crematorium,” Monika replied, “and I got whiffs of the awful burning odor, too.”

“I love the houses with their inner courtyards and fountains,” Crissy said. “They must have been beautiful.”

“Oh, yes,” Monika said. “That's still such a good plan, isn't it? Especially where the weather allows.” She paused. “Oh, here we are. Finally. I can rest my feet.”

Crissy didn't point out that Monika had worn high heels for sightseeing, walking on large, irregular cobbles and slick marble. She gathered that Monika would have worn the same shoes for mountain climbing, and the same outfit, a dress more suitable for a late-afternoon cocktail party. She gathered that the eccentric woman was so enamored of her glitzy wardrobe that no occasion would warrant her changing into something casual.

They ordered iced coffees and chatted about what they'd seen, and Crissy listened to Monika's running commentary on the terrible dressing standards maintained by most of the tourists that passed by. “Gym clothes,” she said disdainfully. “And sneakers. The world is going to the dogs, wearing such apparel to travel. Imagine. And from the looks of most of the people, they've never seen the inside of a gym.”

Crissy laughed. “That's true,” she agreed. “So many of them are overweight.”

“Yes,” Monika said. “They are terribly unfit. I hope you never allow yourself to get in such a state. You're far too beautiful to let yourself go. One must keep up one's standards even if the rest of the world is too lazy, too slothful, and too inconsiderate of others to dress appropriately.”

The café was situated at the top of a hill up which the access road climbed, and she thought she could see a familiar figure coming their way. As he drew closer, she could see that it was indeed who she thought it was, despite his not being in uniform. Luca Santo was dressed in a sharp-looking sports jacket, sweater, and trousers. Her pulse began to race, and she felt a flutter in her chest as she had when she saw Mark. It was an instinctual response that arose of its own accord, and it frustrated Crissy, because she had no control over it.

When he saw her, he waved, and Crissy returned it. She hoped that Monika didn't notice her sudden excitement at seeing Luca because she didn't want to hear what she might have to say about him, and she
certainly didn't want to listen to a lecture about wasting her time with one of the ship's employees.