LOVE on The Horizon (Breaking The Rules #1) (4 page)

Applause finally marked the end of the captain’s speech. As I waited for everyone to exit the balcony, I saw Rebecca talking to a few passengers. From above, I could see the swell of her breasts encased in the silky black fabric of her dress.

“
Fottermi
,” I muttered to myself before angrily turning to leave.

“No thank you. You’re not my type.” Ricky stood smirking a few feet away, amused by my vulgar statement. “Besides, I’m pretty sure commanding me to fuck you is against company policy.”

“
Gesù Cristo. Sei come un cattivo centesimo che continua a girare su.”

“Now I know you’re frustrated because you’re speaking Italian again. English, please.”

It’s hard to realize when that happens. In my head, I’m always speaking Italian. With a sigh, I translated, “You’re like a bad penny that keeps turning up.”

“Well, that’s not a nice thing to say to the man who keeps your life very organized.” He looked down and immediately focused on what I was staring at. “What’s wrong, fearless leader? Don’t you like her dress?”

I ignored his question and instead uttered a ridiculous excuse for my frustrations. “My new shoes are stiff, and they’re hurting my feet.”

As I walked down the hall, he said, “I’m sure your shoes aren’t the only things that are stiff.” I didn’t bother turning around when he blatantly laughed at my retreating back.

“So what’s the deal with Dina?”

Ricky stopped eating his salad and looked up at me. “Why? Is she giving you a hard time?”

“No.” I eyed him suspiciously, wondering what he knew. “She just acts indifferent and aloof. Kind of like Marco acts toward me. I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

“Are you crazy?”

“No.”

“Yes, you are.” Ricky leaned over and slammed the door shut to his office. “First of all, ignore Dina. That girl has a bad attitude. I warned Marco not to bring her along. Secondly, why do you think he hates you?”

I sighed out loud, pausing a beat before voicing my thoughts. “You yourself said he takes pride in training a neo. The man hasn’t taught me one thing or worked with me one day since arriving. We’re now on our third voyage and still nothing.”

I had to choose my words wisely because I knew whatever I said to Ricky would be repeated to Marco…and not in a catty or gossipy kind of way either. Ricky knew that man better than anyone and took pride in the amount of influence he had over Marco. If he felt Marco was acting like an ass, Ricky would no doubt take it upon himself to rectify it.

Marco trusted Ricky implicitly, and when Ricky made a suggestion, Marco often listened. Up until then, Ricky’s big mouth had worked to my advantage. Since Ricky was witnessing my day-to-day job performance, instead of Marco, it helped to know his big mouth could benefit me.

“Unless he’s avoiding you because you get to him,” he said flippantly.

“Get to him?”

“Let’s just say I’ve never seen my boss acting this way before. You’re drop-dead gorgeous, the complete package. I have my theory as to why he’s been ignoring you.”

Holy shit. What did he say? More importantly, what did he know?

“Um…” My cheeks felt like they were on fire. If Ricky thought Marco liked me, then, did he? Ricky would know if that were the case. Regardless, nothing could come of that. When I chanced a quick look at my very observant friend, he sat with his fork midair, watching me curiously. He measured me up, narrowing his eyes as he did. I could practically see the cogs turning in his brain. He stroked his chin with his thumb and pointer finger, all while staring me down.

“What?” I finally asked, feeling very uncomfortable under his gaze.

He pointed a long finger at me. “And you like him.” His face lit up as if a light bulb went off.

“Uh…uh…um,” I huffed in denial and added a few other incoherent sounds. The more flustered I became, the more Ricky watched with an amused smirk. “You have nerve calling me crazy. You’ve absolutely lost your mind.”

“Okay. Whatever you say, cookie-puss.” He stabbed at his salad and shoved a forkful into his mouth. He kept nodding while chewing, until he was able to speak. “It’s me you’re talking to. I can see right through you. You yourself said how scary our connection was.”

“Ricky…” I began, but I didn’t know what to say. Panic swelled inside, resulting in nausea. I pushed my salad away to stop the bile from rising. This was one conversation I didn’t want repeated. So what if I had a crush on my boss? Big deal. I’m sure it happened every day. It didn’t mean I would act on it or expect anything to happen. I could just hear the gossip now, “
Yep, that’s how she climbed the corporate ladder so quickly, by climbing Marco’s cock
.”

His features softened when he noticed my discomfort. He put down his fork and reached for my hand. “Hey, honey. Relax. It looks like you’re about to throw up.”

“I feel like I’m about to throw up.”

“Why?”

“I’m not comfortable with this conversation.”

“I promise you.” He tugged on my hand, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Rebecca, I promise you I won’t say a word about this. I swear. I just have my own theory, and it would be a shame to ignore it.”

“Promise me you’ll ignore it.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Ricky! You just said that you wouldn’t say a word.”

“And I won’t. Ignoring it is what I can’t promise.”

Panic reared its ugly head…panic was my kryptonite. I lost all coherent thoughts when I panicked. I often screwed up when I panicked. Panicking was not a good motivator for me, just the opposite actually—it made me stupid. The other thing I did when I panicked was laugh…a lot.

A giggle bubbled up, and before I knew it, I was laughing maniacally like a nut. He watched like I was an escaped mental patient. Having pity on me, he said, “Stop freaking out, and hear me out. I promise I won’t repeat a word of this conversation to Marco. But, I can’t promise not to meddle if I feel there’s a reason to meddle.”

“Ricky, nothing can happen between me and Marco. It would ruin my career and my reputation.”

“Not if no one knew about it,” he mumbled, shoving more salad into his mouth.

My salad churned in my stomach while excitement vibrated through my veins. How could I be both terrified and hopeful at the same time? The notion of being with Marco thrilled me. The scandal of being with Marco petrified me. I’d already become too invested in my new career to throw it away on a sleazy affair. Based on the rumor mill, Mr. Puglia only had affairs. I could literally be trading my professional future for a one-time romp in the sack.

From where I stood, or sat at that moment, I wasn’t sure any man was worth it. To date, I had yet to experience a love affair that brought me to my knees, rendered me stupid, or even swept me off my feet. Those kinds of affairs didn’t exist in real life. All the sex I had experienced up until now was mediocre at best. Throwing away a promising career for mediocre wasn’t going to happen.

But…if a man could moisten my panties with a smile, then I could just imagine what he could do with his lips, tongue, fingers, and…

“Rebecca!”

“Um…huh?”

“Jesus Christ, woman. You were so far away that I could see clouds in your eyes. What the hell?”

“Sorry. I just remembered I forgot to proof Saturday’s script changes. I know he wanted them on his desk today.” I stood and threw my uneaten salad in the trash. “I’ll catch you later,” I said, leaving Ricky’s office to beeline to my stateroom.

I needed to be alone.

I was so excited. It’d been six weeks since we set sail for the first time, and I finally had the afternoon off. We were docked at St. Maarten, and I couldn’t wait to get to Orient Bay. When my family traveled there years ago, I fell in love with the beauty of that beach and couldn’t wait to lie on the gorgeous sand while reading on my iPad.

My coworkers, who also had the day off, decided to head into town to shop. I lied and said I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do yet, and if I decided to shop, then I’d find them. I even kept my real destination from Ricky. He needed to work on a project for Marco and couldn’t join me anyway. Hiding my relief by pretending disappointment had me feeling guilty, but I needed to be alone.

Once the coast was clear, I hopped a cab to make my way to my nirvana. The beach was packed with passengers from the different ships docked there that day. Orient Bay was one of the most popular beaches, so I expected a big crowd to get lost in. I purchased a frozen drink, found a secluded spot away from the masses, and settled into my slice of heaven. It felt like a thousand degrees as the sun beat down on my bikini-clad body. After I finished my colada, I headed for the water to cool off.

The ocean felt like a warm bath, supplying little relief. Swimming was one of my favorite forms of exercise. Working at summer camps required certification in Red Cross training. The farther I swam from the beach, the cooler the sea felt against my skin. When my body temperature felt low enough to face the heat again, I dragged myself out of the ocean.

The air was so warm that I was practically dry by the time I reached my towel. I closed my eyes, trying to take advantage of my downtime. Even though my body was completely relaxed, my mind raced with a million thoughts. My brain could sometimes behave like a two-year-old toddler throwing a tantrum. The more I told it to stop thinking of a certain Italian god, the more it would while folding its arms and holding its breath defiantly.

A shadow suddenly supplied relief from the scorching sun. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes to see how cloudy it had gotten.

The outline of a tall man scared me, causing me to sit up and gasp. I shielded my eyes to see his face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The sound of a deep Italian accent kick-started my heart quicker than the paddles of a defibrillator could.

“Marco?” I clumsily attempted to stand, but I ended up falling against his bare legs.

Oh fuck
, I thought while my fingers continued to use his calves as walking canes.

He bent to help by taking my hands in his until I stood upright.

“Are you okay?”

Nodding, I tried to act cool but the recent memory of his muscles beneath my palms prevented a verbal response.

“I saw you coming out of the water. I had no idea you were here today.”

“I love this beach. I came here years ago with my family and couldn’t wait to have a day off.”

“I love it as well and try to come whenever I can.”

He had a backpack slung over his shoulder. His feet were bare and, except for black swim trunks, the only thing he wore was his sexy watch. Water droplets clung to his tanned skin. A few traveled slowly down his torso, and my eyes followed as they disappeared into the waistband of his trunks. When I looked back up into his eyes, he was focused on my chest. My pink bikini suddenly made me feel naked. I crossed my arms over my belly, and he noticed my discomfort.

“Um…I was just going to
mangiare
. Would you like to come?”

Marco asking me to come in his Italian accent felt like a cruel joke. “Um…that depends on what man-ja-ra means,” I responded with a nervous laugh.

“I said that in Italian?” At my nod, he laughed as well. “I tend to forget not everyone knows my words. Eat…I was going to get something to eat. Would you like to join me?”

The significance of that one question became a proverbial precipice between our awkward relationship and a more comfortable one. But, it could also fuel my Marco Puglia obsession.

Ignoring the little voice in my head, I said, “Yes, I would like that.”

I felt his eyes on me as I bent down to retrieve my things. He looked away when I turned back to put my sundress on over my head. The confident Marco I met the day I interviewed was no longer the Marco I saw. This Marco was awkward and uncomfortable. Ricky’s words came to mind. He might be right. Maybe I did affect Mr. Puglia.

Once I had all my belongings back in my beach bag, he motioned toward the pavestone path. “The beach café here is very good. Is that okay?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

We didn’t speak as we walked toward the café. It was early for lunch, so many of the tables were open for our choosing. He led us to a table for two under an umbrella that faced the beach.

In a sweet gesture, he pulled out my chair. I didn’t think anyone had ever done that for me before. The minute Marco sat, a waiter appeared with menus for us.

I opened mine and asked, “What do you suggest?”

“I love the burgers
con formaggio
.” I laughed at his wording. “I meant to say cheeseburgers.”

“I enjoy listening to you speak.” He smiled warmly but didn’t respond. He didn’t need to. The smile alone rendered me stupid. I decided to turn my gaze to the waiter in a pathetic attempt to act normal. It would have worked if words actually came out of my mouth.

“Miss? Your order?”

“Oh…sorry. Um…the cheeseburger platter sounds great. Medium well, please.”

“Fries?”

“Of course,” I responded impatiently, mentally adding a “duh.” A burger without fries was worse than peanut butter without jelly.

The waiter nodded, asking for our drink request before leaving to grab our waters. Once he stepped away, I flipped my menu closed to see Marco still smiling at me.

“What?”

“It’s so great to see a woman eat what she wants. In my country, women know how to enjoy their food.”

“I probably shouldn’t, but life is too short.”

“La vita
è
buona.”