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“You know, that James is a very nice-looking man,” Aurora said, “and I think he’s rather intrigued with you. He asked a lot of questions about you.”
“I hope you told him I have a boyfriend who plays linebacker for the Dolphins.”
“Oh, Paige, I told him no such thing. In fact, I made it known that you were quite available. I hope that was all right. Don’t you like James?”
“It wasn’t all right, and no, I don’t particularly like James—at least, not in that way. Please, Mother, stay out of my love life.”
“I’m only trying to help,” Aurora said, undaunted. “What did you come on this cruise for, if not to meet men?”
To keep you from meeting men. “To relax,” she answered as she abruptly stood and began pacing the tiny floor space.
“It doesn’t seem to be working.”
Paige sat down again. “Give it time,” she said, softening. “I’ve only been on board a few hours. I’ll get the hang of it soon.”
By the time they headed for the nine-o’clock dinner seating in the elegant Seascape Dining Room, Paige’s mood had improved. She felt more like herself in an uncomplicated silk sheath and simple accessories, her unruly hair folded into a sophisticated twist atop her head. She wasn’t looking forward to eating shark, no matter who prepared it, but she figured the menu would also include steak or chicken.
Her optimism took an abrupt nosedive when the steward showed them to their table and she saw who else was seated there.
Harrison and James both stood as the ladies approached. “Good evening,” Harrison said as he took Aurora’s hand between his and gave her a peck on the cheek in an irritatingly debonair gesture.
Who did he think he was, Cary Grant? Paige groused inwardly, although she had to admit he looked the part in his starched white shirt, conservative tie and a charcoal jacket that had obviously been tailored to fit his wide shoulders.
“I hope you don’t mind that we arranged to share a table with you,” he said.
“We’re delighted,” Aurora answered smoothly. She looked expectantly at Paige, who remained silent.
The two men and Aurora carried the conversation through most of dinner, sometimes discussing serious topics, other times sharing silly jokes and laughing until their eyes were moist with tears.
No one seemed to mind Paige’s pensiveness. Every so often James would lean over and offer an aside to Paige, speaking in a low voice much too near her ear. His warm breath against her cheek, far from provocative, made her want to flee to her cabin and wash her face.
When the waiter set the shark steak in front of her, Paige questioned her impulsive decision to be brave and try something new. What was she trying to prove, anyway? But she ate it without complaint, hardly tasting it, washing it down with the less-than-palatable Chablis from her constantly filled glass.
After dinner Paige considered calling it a night. It was almost eleven. But she had promised Bobby she would keep an eye on Aurora, so she found herself following the others to the Copacabana Lounge. A small orchestra was doing a creditable job on some big band numbers despite its size. Bobby had once sung with a similar band, and a wave of unexpected nostalgia hit her.
“Would you like to dance?” James asked her.
“Umm, no, actually...” she stammered.
“C’mon, Paige,” he wheedled. “I’m a terrific ballroom dancer. I’ll teach you the steps in no time.”
An amused look passed between mother and daughter. If there was one thing Paige didn’t need lessons on, it was dancing. Touring the country with her father’s band, she had practically grown up in nightclubs, learning everything from the tango to the twist to the Texas two-step.
Harrison was watching her, too, seemingly interested in her response. She felt a sudden, illogical urge to show him that she wasn’t completely inept when it came to social skills.
She smiled up at James. “All right, one dance.”
The band had just launched into “In the Mood,” and she and James fell into an easy jitterbug. James was an adept partner, if not an inspired one, and Paige found that she was almost enjoying herself. They fit well together, James’s less-than-towering height complementing her petite size.
“I think you’re the one who should be giving lessons,” he said when the song ended. “How did you learn to dance like that?”
“My parents taught me,” she said, choosing not to elaborate.
The band started a slower number, and James drew her into his arms for a waltz. She wasn’t as comfortable dancing so close, and she did her best to maintain some distance between their bodies while James did his best to maximize contact.
She glanced wistfully at their table, wondering how she could end the dance without sounding horribly rude, when she saw Harrison watching them, his black gaze practically burning a hole through her.
Rather than pleasing her, as it should have, the look on his face disturbed her.
Fortunately a beeper in James’s coat pocket chose that moment to chirp. “Damn,” he said under his breath as he reluctantly released Paige. “Looks like I’ll have to go take care of some small emergency. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Paige murmured her insincere regrets over his leaving, breathed a quiet sigh of relief and went back to the table.
“How about it, Aurora?” Harrison was saying, apparently oblivious to Paige’s return.
“Oh, I don’t think so,” Aurora demurred. “I’m not much for dancing, not tonight, anyway. My feet hurt.”
What? Paige thought. Since when did her mother not like to dance?
“Besides, I need to go powder my nose,” Aurora continued. “If you’re set on dancing, why don’t you give Paige a try?”
Paige gave a small gasp as they both looked expectantly at her. Dance with Harrison? The mere thought made her dizzy. Or maybe that was just the wine.
“Would you like to dance, Paige?” Harrison asked politely. “If James doesn’t mind, that is.”
That infuriated her. “James was called away on business,” she informed him icily. “But I’m sure he doesn’t give a fig whom I dance with, nor would I care if he did.”
“Good.” Harrison stood and took her hand, urging her out of her chair.
Aurora leaned over to Paige and whispered, “Don’t let him dance with anyone else, particularly not that stacked brunette who keeps making cow eyes at him from across the room. I’ll be back shortly.”
It appeared Paige had no choice but to acquiesce. It irked her that her mother thought her to be far less of a threat than the silicone-implanted bimbo. It irked her again that she even cared.
The band was playing another slow, dreamy number, and Harrison drew her easily into his arms. He was not so skillful a dancer as James, but he was obviously comfortable with his own body and his movements. In moments they were dancing in harmony, despite the height difference between them. He held her not too stiffly, yet not too close, either.
“Could you at least try to appear as if you’re enjoying this?” Harrison said. “People will think I’m pulling your fingernails out one by one instead of dancing with you.”
Little did he know that he was inflicting a very different brand of torture on her. His nearness caused her body to respond, despite her efforts to remain indifferent. She was acutely aware of his hard, lean torso brushing against hers, the warmth of his hand enveloping hers, the strength of his shoulder where she touched him, the subtle, spicy fragrance of his after-shave.
And the way he looked at her. She could have easily drowned in those brown eyes, which seemed so sincere.
She forced a smile.
“That’s a little better. Why do you dislike me so intensely?
“It’s habit,” she replied, not even bothering to deny the accusation. “I’ve never liked any of Aurora’s suitors. She tends to attract a certain brand of man.”
“What if I’m different?” he countered, his hand making slow, sensual circles at the small of her back. “What if I’m gainfully employed, financially secure and a gentleman without designs on Aurora’s matrimonial status?”
Paige didn’t answer. The feel of his hand, warm and insistent through the silk of her dress, had paralyzed her brain and turned her body into one big nerve ending.
“Well, it’s possible, isn’t it?” he prompted.
With no small effort Paige collected her wits. What was she doing? What was she allowing him to do?
“You may be gainfully employed and financially secure,” she said evenly. “But a gentleman? For the past few minutes you’ve been rubbing circles on my back, and now your hand is perilously close to a part of my anatomy that shouldn’t be fondled in public. In conclusion, only a cur dog pursues two females at the same time, much less two females who are close to each other. This dance is finished, Mr. Powell. And when I tell Aurora what you’re up to, you’ll be finished with her, as well.”
Looking a bit startled at her vehement outburst, he dropped his hands, allowing her to escape.
Paige resisted the urge to run. Her face flaming, she left the dance floor, bypassed their table and headed straight for the exit. A detached part of her applauded her blistering speech. Her outrage was perfectly justified; the dressing down was no more than the cad deserved.
But another, more frightened part of herself was forced to admit that she’d liked the way he’d been touching her. For the first time in years she’d felt the full force of her own healthy, feminine response to a man’s touch, complete with watery knees, fluttering stomach, heart palpitations and an insistent tug deep in her abdomen, an ache that begged for fulfillment.
If she hadn’t willfully summoned up that anger, she would have melted against him, turned her face upward and accepted the kiss she knew had been on his mind.
She probably would have enjoyed it, too.
Three
The next morning Paige was determined to put the previous evening’s disturbing events behind her. The weather outside was gorgeous, she had a new, sleek, emerald green swimsuit, and the breakfast buffet on the Lido Deck beckoned. After she sated herself, she planned to find a deck chair, an umbrella and several undisturbed hours to lose herself in Stephen King’s latest bestseller.
She didn’t have to worry about her mother. She’d heard Aurora come dragging in after 2:00 a.m., giggling like a teenager as someone—Paige didn’t want to think too hard about who—had walked her to her door. If Aurora was true to form, she wouldn’t be out of bed until noon.
Paige did, however, need to borrow Aurora’s bottle of sun block. She eased the connecting door open and tiptoed inside her mother’s room, where Aurora snored softly, a satin sleeping mask protecting her eyes from the sunlight streaming through the cracks in the curtains.
Now, where would her mother have hidden the suntan lotion? Paige wondered.
“Mmm, Paige?” Aurora said muzzily.
“Sorry, Mother,” Paige whispered. “I’m just looking for the sun block.”
Aurora leaned up on one elbow and pulled off the mask. “‘S in that beach bag...oh, there, under the dressing table. Why’d you run off so early last night?” she asked, obviously irritated. “You missed the champagne.”
“It wasn’t early, it was after midnight,” Paige argued amiably. Sooner or later she would have to tell her mother about Harrison’s lack of fidelity, but that could wait—at least until Aurora had drunk her first cup of coffee.
“Harrison seemed to think you were miffed at him.”
“Oh, he did, did he?”
“Were you?”
Paige weighed her answer carefully. “A bit. You should watch him, Mother. I don’t think his intentions are honorable.”
“I certainly hope not,” Aurora said with a wicked laugh.
“Mother!”
“Oh, Paige, would you lay off the ‘Miss Prim’ stuff? I’m a grown woman, and I don’t need you watchdogging my social life.”
“Someone should,” Paige muttered.
Aurora chose to ignore the dig. “So where are you off to this morning so disgustingly bright and early?”
Paige was relieved at the change of subject. “To breakfast and then the pool. Want to come?”
Aurora shuddered delicately at the mention of food. “No, thanks, not until I beat this hangover. I’d forgotten what a chipper little morning person you are. Now, go away. I’ll see you at a more civilized hour.” She shoved the mask back over her eyes and burrowed into the bed covers.
With a shrug Paige grabbed the beach bag, which felt as if it contained a bowling ball, and returned to her own room.
“What in the world is in this thing?” she wondered aloud as she opened the drawstring top and checked out the contents. There were two pairs of sunglasses, a tube of lip balm, under-eye moisturizer, three scarves, and four economy-size bottles of suntan oil, each with a different SPF. The outside zipper pockets held clips to Aurora’s electric rollers, a packet of tissues and a costume-jewelry necklace.
Paige examined the necklace. It was pretty, she decided. In fact, she would have thought it was the real thing if she didn’t know that stones of this size were well beyond Aurora’s means. Still, it was obviously an expensive piece of fakery. She would have to remind Aurora to take better care of it.
Paige laid the necklace on the dresser, intending to return it to her mother later. She selected a few essentials and put them back into the bag, plopped a wide-brimmed straw hat onto her head and headed for the Lido Deck.
* * *
“As nearly as we can pinpoint it, the theft occurred between 9:00 p.m. and 1:00 a.m.,” James said in a low voice, craning his neck this way and that to be sure there were no eavesdroppers lurking about. He and Harrison were going over the details of the break-in that had occurred last night, proving that the Mermaid cat burglar was on the prowl.
“What exactly was stolen?” Harrison asked.
“A sapphire-and-diamond necklace, worth a cool twenty-seven thousand dollars,” James said. “Fortunately the owner isn’t the hysterical type. She reported the theft very quietly, and I’ve convinced her to keep mum so our chief suspect won’t know we’re on to her. Which leads me to...did you get lucky with Aurora last night?”
Harrison sighed tiredly. “No. An elderly gentleman, a Dr. Waller, walked her back to her cabin at about two. I followed them, then stuck around in the passageway long enough to be sure she didn’t take a late-night stroll.”
“Then she isn’t responsible?” James asked, frowning.
“I didn’t say that.” Damn, he almost wished he could serve as Aurora’s alibi. He was growing fond of her, and it was getting harder and harder for him to believe she was a world-class jewel thief.
What was even harder to swallow was how Paige would handle her mother’s arrest. “Aurora went to the ladies’ room shortly after you were called away,” he admitted. “She was gone more than twenty minutes. I should have followed her, but I didn’t. She said she’d be right back, and I didn’t think that much of it.” He’d been too intent on dancing with Paige to think clearly, anyway.
“Twenty minutes would be enough time, barely,” James said, his irritated frown fading. Clearly he was eager to close this case, which had plagued him for more than a year.
“How did the burglar get into the cabin?” Harrison asked.
“A glass cutter was used on the terrace door. It was a clean, quick job. And, Harrison, the cabin that was hit is next door to Aurora’s.”
“Well, hell, that clinches it, then.” Aurora must have climbed over the railing of her veranda and worked her way over to the victim’s. Although the woman was fifty-eight years old, she was trim and athletic. The caper wasn’t inconceivable. “Any fingerprints?”
“Nope. Like I said, clean and fast.”
“Why didn’t you tell me as soon as the theft was reported?” Harrison asked.
James’s expression hardened. “Silly me. I thought you were making some progress with Aurora, and I didn’t want to mess that up. I was hoping you’d get into her cabin and find something useful.” He was clearly disgusted with Harrison’s lack of success on that front.
“Hey, you think this is easy? Aurora’s no pushover.”
“That’s not what I hear.”
