Once Upon A Night At Sea (2 page)

Not to mention she had no desire to draw even more attention to her slip-and-toss maneuver. Her cheeks burning, Marin fished through her coat pockets for one of her cards. “Here,” she said, thrusting the business card his way. “Send me the bill for the dry cleaning.” With that, she turned on her high-heeled boots and trod carefully toward her car, sans her morning latte. She eyed the long line of cars queuing up to the drive-through window.

Glancing over her shoulder, she found her latest victim watching her retreat. Another flutter, this one in her midriff, brought a twinge of regret. Really, she had no time for dating, and after her last disappointing heartbreak, she’d decided to focus solely on her new business for a while, at least until Allen Decor & Design showed a nice fat profit. When that happy day arrived, she’d hire more help and think about dating again. Not now.

Marin climbed into her car and retrieved her phone. Hitting speed dial, she kept her eye on the rearview mirror, hoping to catch another glimpse of the hot guy. “Anne.”

“Marin.”

They’d used the same conversational shorthand since high school, with tone alone conveying the seriousness of the conversation to come. “I’ve had a very interesting morning.”

“Oh?” Anne’s voice held avid interest. “Tell me.”

“It seems I’ve won a Caribbean cruise through SLS’s Valentine’s Day raffle.”

“That’s so exciting!”

“Yeah, but here’s the thing… I never bought any tickets.” Silence. She waited, glancing again at the line of cars at the drive-through window in the hopes it might have shortened. It hadn’t. “Anne,” she repeated.

“Mea culpa. I bought one ticket for you and three for me.”

“Why did you buy me a ticket?”

“Guilt. I know you don’t like parties, but you came anyway… for me. Just like you joined the club so I’d have someone to attend events with. Wow, you won!”

Marin held the phone away from her ear, waiting for Anne’s volume to return to normal.

“I’m so excited for you… and jealous for me. I was hoping we’d both win.”

“I don’t know if—”

“You’re going.”

“This will be my store’s first spring. I have merchandise to process and clients who—”

“You’re taking this trip, Marintha. All you do these days is work. It’s not healthy.”

“Hmm. We’ll talk about it later. I’m not through with you yet. On another note, you’ll never guess what else happened this morning.”

“Tell me,” Anne said. “I live for your foibles.”

“I slipped on a patch of ice in the parking lot at a coffee shop and tossed my latte all over a gorgeous guy.”

“No!” Anne laughed.

“Yes.” Marin described the dreamy man in detail.

“Was he wearing a wedding ring? Did you get his number?”

“No and no, but I gave him my card and told him I’d pay for the dry cleaning. He’s not my type.”

“Marin…”

“He isn’t. He wanted to go back inside and give the poor baristas a hard time about the condition of the parking lot, like it’s their fault Minnesota has ice. Besides, no more lectures about my social life. After working in my mom’s shadow for years, I’ve finally opened my own design studio, and that’s what I want to concentrate on right now.” Marin started her car. “Hey, you want to go see a movie tonight?”

“Sure. I’ll call you later.”

“OK. Later.” With her phone safely stowed in her purse, she pulled her car out of her parking spot and headed for her store, already dreading the awful coffee her minions brewed in the tiny closet they used for breaks.

“Too bad,” Jason muttered. He hadn’t meant to scare the pretty blonde away. He’d only been teasing when he’d suggested they hold the coffee shop responsible, but she hadn’t stuck around long enough to let him explain. He’d just wanted to get her back inside, so he could buy her a replacement latte and have a good laugh over what had happened. After all, he was in the mood to celebrate, and he wasn’t going to let a hot, sticky dousing dampen his spirits.

He kept an eye on her as she made her way to her car in case she slipped again. Why did women insist upon wearing high heels in this weather? Once he saw she was safely inside her car, he walked into the coffee shop, grabbed a fistful of napkins and wiped what he could of the fast-drying liquid off his jacket.

The kid behind the counter eyed the state of his clothing with mild curiosity. “Spilled it, eh?”

“Something like that.” Jason ordered his usual and studied the card the woman had given him. Marintha Allen, Allen Decor & Design. The card included an address, a phone number, website and e-mail.

Tucking the card into his wallet, he considered his options. He could stop by her store, invite her out for coffee, and go from there, or he could have his things cleaned and move on. Either way, she would not be receiving a bill.

His breath had hitched the moment her gaze had met his, and that hadn’t happened to him in a good long while. Her lively blue eyes had shone with intelligence… and concern at his soggy state. Smiling, he recalled the way she’d tossed the coffee in the air when she slipped. He’d been so busy watching her, trying to get to her before she hit the ground, he forgot to move out of the way of the flying latte. Already late for a meeting, he had no time to return to his condo for a change of clothes. He grabbed his coffee, headed out the door and climbed into his pickup truck. Once again the image of Marintha Allen tossing her latte danced through his head. He chuckled. What a way to start his morning.

Jason’s fingers hovered over the keyboard of his computer. He stared blindly at Doherty Manufacturing’s quarterly profit and loss report on the screen. He’d been completely distracted all day. Why couldn’t he get Marintha Allen out of his head? Maybe it was because the sweet scent of her latte on his slacks and jacket had haunted him all day. “I give up.”

On impulse, he opened a new tab on his computer screen and entered the web address for her shop. A page popped up, displaying an array of knickknacks, throws, pillows, one-of-a-kind pieces of painted furniture and a portfolio of rooms, some cozy, others ultramodern and sleek. His condo could use a few things to brighten it up, make it more homey.

Scrolling down the page, he searched for the store’s hours and grinned. On Fridays Allen Decor closed early. He’d stop by and hopefully catch Marintha before she left. He’d ask her out for that coffee, or at the very least he’d tell her not to expect a bill. He might have read her all wrong, but he swore he’d glimpsed a spark of attraction before he suggested the coffee shop owed them.

It was worth a shot, and if he left now, he’d have time to change his clothes. Jason shut down his computer, grabbed his things and strode out of his office. “I’m heading out, John,” he told his assistant. “I have a few errands to run. Feel free to knock off early if you want, and have a great weekend. Inform the rest of the staff they can start the weekend early, too.”

“Thanks, Mr. Doherty. I will.”

Jason nodded good-bye to the rest of his support staff and made his way to the elevator. The moment he hit the down button, the doors opened. He took it as a good sign. Still smiling, he left the building, climbed into his pickup and aimed for home. His condo was only ten minutes away, even less today, since every traffic light turned green as he approached. Another good sign.

Once he’d rinsed the stickiness out of his hair and changed into jeans and a sweater, he grabbed a clean jacket out of his closet and set out for Allen Decor & Design, located in a nearby shopping and office complex. Jason pulled his truck into the parking lot with a few minutes to spare.

A case of nerves hit him. What if she didn’t want to have anything to do with him? Was it stalkerish to show up at her store? No. He wanted to do the right thing and let her off the hook for the dry cleaning bill. Not her fault she’d slipped.

Drawing a breath for courage, he climbed out of his truck and walked inside the first floor of the complex. There he consulted the directory and then headed for Allen Decor. He turned a corner, and there she was. Frowning, he watched her tug furiously at… something. The shop’s double glass doors were already closed. He moved closer to get a better look.

Ah. The strap of her purse had gotten caught, and she was trying to pull it free. She was so intent on her efforts she didn’t even notice him. Jason leaned in to take a closer look at the problem. “Why don’t you—”

The strap broke at the buckle. Her arm jerked back, and her elbow slammed into his nose with so much force he saw stars. “Ow!”

“You
again
!” she cried. “Oh no. I’m so, so sorry.”

He straightened. A mistake, because now he added dizziness to his misery. Blood spurted down over his mouth and chin to drip all over his cashmere sweater. He tilted his head back and held a hand over his nose. “Why didn’t you just unlock the doors?” he muttered.

“I tried! The lock isn’t aligned right because of the leather jamming the mechanism, and—”

“Tissue. Do you have a tissue?”

She rifled through her purse where it dangled between the steel and glass. “I have a napkin, but—”

“Give it to me,” he ordered.

“—it’s used.” She handed him the napkin, complete with a wadded-up piece of chewed gum at the center. “There’s a men’s room right over there.” She gestured in the general direction across the hall.

He nodded, held the napkin to his nose and walked away. No matter how pretty she might be, the woman was a walking disaster. Coming here had been a colossal mistake.

“Add the cost of your medical deductible to the dry cleaning bill,” she called after him.

He waved a hand in the air in a noncommittal gesture, just to let the holy terror know he’d heard what she’d said. Then he headed for the safety of the men’s room, his nose throbbing and his favorite sweater ruined.

Tulum
means
“wall, trench or fence” in Mayan.
The
ancient city
of Tulum,
built atop
coastal cliffs
of the Yucatan Peninsula
,
provide
s
a breathtaking vista—majestic
temple
ruins against a backdrop of aquamarine ocean,
pristine
beaches
and lush vegetation
. The archaeological site goes
back as far as
564 AD
and is reported to have been
one of the most
important
centers
of Mayan cul
ture
and commerce. The Mayan people
certainly
knew a prime piece
of
real estate
when they saw one
.

Marin tipped the airport shuttle driver, took her suitcase and rolled it toward Houston’s port terminal. Her jaw dropped.
Emerald Princess
dominated her view. Impressive. None of what she’d read on the Internet could have prepared her for the sheer immensity of the vessel before her.

Palm trees lined the boulevard, parking lot and sidewalk leading to the terminal, and the warm, sunny day couldn’t have been more perfect. She headed for the terminal ahead, admiring its arched metal roofs, huge glass windows and colorful turquoise and white paint that beckoned her to exotic destinations.

She pulled out her phone and checked her e-mail, looking for anything from Jody. Her assistant manager had finally convinced her that her studio wouldn’t fall apart just because she took a week off. No message, meaning no problems. Sighing happily, Marin slid her phone back into her bag and made her way through the large glass door to take her place in line. She gazed around at the multicultural blend of passengers and listened to the heady mix of languages and accents being spoken.

Up ahead, she caught a glimpse of a tall man with dark wavy hair and broad shoulders, and her heart skipped a beat. Yet another tall, dark-haired man to remind her of the handsome stranger she’d encountered at the coffee shop so many weeks ago.

She’d doused the poor guy with her latte and broken his nose in the span of a single day. He couldn’t get away from her fast enough, yet she couldn’t seem to get him out of her mind. Silly, really. The chances of running into him again were next to nil.

Once she had her key card, excitement thrummed through her. She hadn’t been out of the country since the college semester she’d studied abroad in Paris, and she’d never been anywhere tropical. Marin stepped onto an escalator, then walked through a series of enclosed ramps, until finally, she was on board.

The interior of the ship could only be described as luxurious—plush with thick, colorful carpets in warm tones, gleaming glass windows and doors and polished wood and brass banisters along the broad staircases. She crowded into an elevator and hit the button to the twelfth deck.

Marin located her side of the ship and started down the corridor toward her stateroom.

Some of the staterooms had one blue and one white balloon fastened over the clear plastic mailboxes mounted to the wall. An elderly couple disappeared into one of them. Curious, Marin peeked at their door as she passed. She found a colorful poster affixed to the front, wishing the couple a happy fiftieth anniversary.