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‘Impressive,’ he mused.
‘Have you seen any other courses that interest you? Aside...’ She allowed herself a polite smile. ‘Aside from the palmistry?’
‘I’m tempted by astronomy... When it comes to stars, I feel I could become something of an expert...’ Daniel murmured. His last girlfriend had been an actress. Did that count? ‘But, no...’ He sat back briskly, angling his chair so that he could stretch his legs to one side. ‘I’m only here for a week. Probably just to take in a couple of stops. I think I’ll go for yours...’
A week? Delilah felt an inexplicable surge of disappointment, but she pinned a smile on her face and kept it there as she sipped some of the orange juice.
‘Well, I can’t guarantee I can turn you into Picasso at the end of a week... I mean, most of the other passengers are here for the full month, and then we have more joining us when we dock at Naples...’
‘Seems a bit haphazard,’ Daniel said. ‘Put it this way—I managed to get a place at the last minute, and for whatever duration I chose...’
‘It’s...it’s a little more informal than most cruises, I guess,’ Delilah conceded. ‘But that’s because it’s a family-run business. Gerry and Christine like the fact that people can dip in and out...’
‘Gerry and Christine?’
Ockley. He knew their names, knew how far into debt they were. Little wonder people could dip in and out of the cruise at whim. Any business was good business when it came to making ends meet.
‘They run the cruise ship. Actually, it’s theirs, and they’re great.’
She felt herself relax, because he was so clearly interested in what she was saying. He was just another keen passenger, and if his looks made her a bit jittery then that was her problem and, after the debacle with Michael, it was one she could easily deal with.
‘Are they? In what way?’
‘Just very interested in all the passengers—and the crew have been with them for ages.’
‘Is that a fact...? And I guess you know all the crew...?’
‘They’re wonderful. Devoted to their jobs. They all love the fact that they’re pretty much allowed free rein with what they do... Of course they all follow the rules, but for instance the chef is allowed to do as he likes and so is the head of entertainment. I’ve been very lucky to get this job...’ She guiltily thought of her sister, but she would be back home soon and all would be fine.
Daniel saw the shadow cross her face and for a few seconds was intrigued enough to want to find out more about the woman sitting in front of him. But there was no time in his busy, compacted schedule for curiosity about a random stranger, however strangely attractive he might find her. He had to cut to the chase.
‘So...’ He carried the conversation along briskly. ‘Tomorrow...what time do we start...?’
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_a279a103-4514-5c8c-851a-f6b395b2eda9)
‘NOW HAVE A look at the jug. George...see how it forms the centre of the arrangement? With the other two pieces in the background? So that the whole forms a geometric shape...? If you could just make the jug a teeny bit smaller, then I think we’re getting there!’
For the umpteenth time Delilah’s eyes skittered towards the door, waiting for it to be pushed open by Daniel.
Her calm, peaceful enjoyment of her brief window of freedom appeared to have disappeared the moment she had met the man. She had been knocked sideways by his looks, but more than that he had a certain watchfulness about him that she found weirdly compelling...
She was seeing him through the eyes of an artist, she had told herself, over and over again. The arrangement of his features, the peculiar aura of authority and power he emanated was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before in anyone.
She had laughingly told herself that she was reading far too much into someone who was probably a drifter, working his way through the continent. Someone who had managed to accumulate sufficient money to buy himself a few days on the liner so that he could pursue a hobby. Most of the passengers were in their fifties or sixties, on the cruise for the whole time, but there were a number who, like him, were on the cruise for a limited period of time, taking advantage of one or other of the many courses offered while enjoying the ports before disembarking so that they could continue travelling.
He was a traveller.
But she still found herself searching out the door every two minutes, and when—an hour after the class had begun—he pushed it open and strolled into the room she drew her breath in sharply.
‘Class!’ Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing and looked at Daniel. ‘I’d like to introduce a new recruit! His name is Daniel and he’s an aspiring artist, so I hope you’ll welcome him in and show him the ropes if I happen to be busy with someone. Daniel... I’ve set aside a seat for you, with an easel. You never mentioned what level you feel you might be at...?’
Daniel didn’t think that there was any level that might apply to him. ‘Basic.’ He smiled, encompassing every single person in the room, and was met with smiles in return, before their attention reverted to their masterpieces in the making.
‘In that case, why don’t you start with pencil? You can choose whichever softness you feel comfortable with and perhaps try your hand at reproducing the arrangement on the table in front of the class...’
She was extremely encouraging. She had kind things to say about even the most glaringly amateurish efforts. She took time to help and answered all the questions thrown at her patiently. When he told her, as he stared at the empty paper pinned to his easel, that he was waiting for inspiration to come and that you couldn’t rush that sort of thing, she didn’t roar with laughter but merely suggested that a single stroke of the pencil might be all the inspiration he needed.
He thought that he might have been a little more interested in art at school if he’d had her as his teacher instead of the battleaxe who had told him that the world of art would be better off without his input. Not that she hadn’t had a point...
He’d managed something roughly the shape of one of the objects on the table by the time the class drew to an end, but instead of heading out with everyone else he remained exactly where he was, watching as she tidied everything away.
Delilah could feel his eyes on her as she busied herself returning pencils and foam pads and palette knives to the various boxes on the shelf. She’d been so conscious of him sitting there at the back of the class, sprawled out with his body at an angle and doing absolutely nothing, from what she could see. She’d barely been able to focus.
Now she turned to him and smiled politely. ‘Won’t you be joining the other passengers for some lunch?’ she asked as she began the process of dismounting the easels and stacking them away neatly against the wall, where straps had been rigged to secure them in place.
Daniel linked his fingers behind his head and relaxed back into the chair. ‘I thought you could give me some pointers on my efforts today...’ He swivelled the easel so that it was facing her and Delilah walked slowly towards it.
‘I’m sorry you haven’t managed to accomplish a bit more,’ she said tactfully. ‘I was aiming for more of a realistic reproduction of the jugs...it’s important to really try and replicate what you see at this stage of your art career...’
‘I don’t think I’ll be having a career in art,’ Daniel pointed out.
‘So this is just a hobby for you...? Well, that’s good, as well. Hobbies can be very relaxing, and once you become a bit more familiar with the pencil—once your confidence starts growing—you’ll find it the most relaxing thing in the world...’
‘Is that what you do to relax?’ he asked, making no move to shift.
‘I really must get on and tidy away this stuff...’
‘No afternoon classes?’
‘The afternoons, generally speaking, are downtime for everyone. The passengers like to go out onto the deck, or else sit in the shade and catch up with their reading or whatever homework’s been set...’
‘And what do you do?’
‘I... I do a little painting...sometimes I sit by the pool on the top deck and read...’
Daniel enjoyed the way she blushed. It was a rare occurrence. The women he dated had left their blushing days far behind.
‘I thought we might have lunch again today,’ he suggested, waiting to see what form her refusal would take. ‘As you can see...’ he waved in the vague direction of his easel ‘...my efforts at art are crap.’
‘No one’s efforts at art are anything but good. You forget that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...’
‘How long are you going to be on the liner for?’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘Are you here for...?’ He whipped out the crumpled cruise brochure from his shorts pocket, twisted it in various directions before finding the bit he wanted. ‘For the full duration of a month?’
‘I can’t see what this has to do with the course, Mr...er... Daniel...’
‘If you’re going to be on the course for the full duration I might be incentivised to stay a bit longer than a week.’
Complete lie—but something about her appealed to him. Yet again she was in an outfit more suitable for one of the middle-aged free spirits on the cruise ship. Another flowing skirt in random colours, and another kind of loose, baggy top that worked hard at concealing her figure—which, he saw as he surreptitiously cast his eye over it, was as slender and as graceful as a gazelle’s.
The libido he had planned on resting while he was on the ship stirred into enthusiastic life as he wondered what the body under the unappealing clothes might be like.
He went for big breasts. She was flat-chested—that much he could see. He went for women who were small and curvy—she was long and willowy. He liked them blonde and blue-eyed. She was copper-haired and brown-eyed.
Maybe it was the novelty... But whatever it was he was happy to go with the flow—not forgetting that she could also be a useful conduit to the information he wanted.
‘Don’t you have the rest of your travel plans already sorted out?’ Delilah was irritated to find herself lingering on the possibility that this man she had spent about fifteen seconds with might stay on for longer than he had originally suggested.
‘I try not to live my life according to too many prearranged plans,’ Daniel murmured, appreciating the delicate bloom of pink in her cheeks. ‘I guess we probably have that in common...’
Delilah grimaced. ‘I wish that was like me,’ she said without thinking. ‘But unfortunately you couldn’t be further from the truth.’ She reddened and spun round, away from those piercing unusual eyes. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘it would be lovely if you stayed on a bit longer. I’m sure you could become an able artist if you put all your efforts into it.’
She knew that the cruise ship was running at a loss. All the crew knew that. Gerry and Christine had not kept it a secret from them at all. In fact on day one they had called a meeting and apologised straight away for the fact that they couldn’t be paid more. None of the teachers on board had protested. They were there because they loved what they did, and the fact that there was sun and sea in the mix was enough for all of them.
But the Ockleys had suggested that if they could try and persuade some of the passengers to prolong their stay, or even tempt interested holidaymakers into hopping on board for a couple of days to try their hand at one of the many courses... Well, every little would help.
‘Persuade me over lunch,’ Daniel suggested. It felt like a challenge to get her to comply—and since when had he ever backed down in the face of a challenge? ‘Unless, of course, you find my company objectionable...?’
Realistically, he didn’t even countenance that.
‘I had lunch with you yesterday because you wanted to find out about the course.’
Delilah did her best to dredge up the memory of her disaster of a relationship with Michael and to listen to the warning voice in her head reminding her that she was still recovering from a broken heart—which, by definition, meant retreating from men, taking time out, paying attention to the value of common sense.
‘So? What does that have to do with anything? We’ve talked about the course and now I’d like to find out whether you think I’m a suitable candidate to be on it. I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting your time...so why the hesitation?’
‘Perhaps a quick lunch,’ she agreed—for Gerry and Christine’s sake.
Daniel smiled slowly. ‘Shame the choice of food is so limited,’ he said, rising to his feet and giving his effort at drawing the jug a cursory glance.
If he had really been interested in learning how to draw then she would have had to commit to an indefinite period of time explaining to him how he might set about improving his skills, because he clearly had none. Fortunately he had no intention of spending too long on that particular subject.
‘And it’s below average...’
‘Sorry?’ Delilah, in the act of washing her hands, turned round and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘From what I’ve sampled, the food onboard doesn’t exactly set the culinary world alight, does it?’
He moved to stand by the door and watched as she gathered her bag—some sort of tapestry affair that could have held the kitchen table and sink. Again, her hair was pulled back, with strands escaping round her face, and she absently shoved the stray strands behind her ear.
‘It’s okay...’ she said cautiously.
‘You don’t want to rat on your fellow crew members,’ Daniel murmured, with a hint of amusement in his voice. ‘I understand that. But just between the two of us, I’ve been disappointed with what I’ve been served so far...’
‘I don’t think the passengers come for the food...’
‘It’s all part and parcel of the package,’ Daniel said expansively. ‘You said that the chef is allowed free rein...?’
‘But he has to stick to a budget,’ Delilah qualified uncomfortably. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, if you’re really unhappy, then perhaps you should mention something to Christine...’
‘Who is the head chef?’
‘Stan...and he works really hard to do the best he can with the money he’s allotted...’ She tripped along behind him, riveted by the long, lean lines of his muscular body.
‘Don’t worry,’ Daniel said in a placating voice.
They had reached the bar and, as usual, people were tucking in to the offerings in a desultory fashion. Salads...baguettes with a variety of fillings...jacket potatoes...
It beggared belief that the owners of the liner had got their mismanagement down to such a fine art. Had they no concept of the importance of good food onboard a cruise liner, where the passengers did not have the option of scouting around for alternative restaurants?
‘I’m not going to accost your pal in front of the chip-fryer...’
‘Can I tell you something?’ She reached into her bag for her wallet and insisted that she paid for his drink, as he had paid for hers the day before. This wasn’t a date.
Daniel was chuffed. He couldn’t remember the last time any woman had offered to pay for anything for him—not that he would have allowed it. But, no...the offer had never been made anyway. And yet this girl, who clearly bought her clothes from charity shops, was offering to buy him a drink. He was oddly touched by that. If only she knew!
His inherent cynicism quickly rose to the surface. If only she knew how much he was worth, then there was no chance in hell that she would be dipping into her wallet to buy him anything.
Once upon a time, in the tragic wake of his mother’s death, he had foolishly allowed his emotions their freedom. He had fallen for Kelly Close’s sympathetic ear. He had harboured no suspicions about the sweet-natured primary school teacher who had been into doing good and giving back to the community. He’d enjoyed lavishing gifts on her, enjoyed basking in her shyly endearing acceptance of whatever he bought for her.
Until he’d glimpsed the band of pure steel underneath the shyness when she had ditched her job and suggested that they make their arrangement permanent. It had occurred to him then, belatedly, that when you got past all the coy dipping of the eyes and trembling, grateful smiles, she had managed to acquire quite a substantial nest egg of priceless jewellery—not to mention the studio apartment he had bought her because the lease on her own flat had supposedly expired, and the countless weekends away.
At that point he had tried to pull back and bring some common sense to bear on the proceedings. He had discovered then that gold-diggers came in all different shapes and sizes and, his guard temporarily down, had realised that Kelly Close had found her way through the cracks in his armour and staged a clever assault, with her eventual aim being a wedding ring on her finger and a claim to his vast inheritance should they ever divorce. Which, he had seen very quickly, would have happened sooner rather than later.
A clean severing of the ways, however, had turned into a cat fight. Threats of a kiss-and-tell exposé to the tabloids had resulted in money changing hands—a vast sum of money, which had hit him at the worst possible time. In return he had managed to secure a contract with a privacy clause, prohibiting her from ever mentioning his name in public, but the emotional cost to him had also been steep.
With his brother and his father in another country, he had at least been spared the horror of either of them knowing about the unholy mess and the financial cost to him because he had taken his eye off the ball. But he had learnt a valuable lesson, and now, whilst it cost him nothing to be generous with his money, he made damn sure not to be generous with his emotions. Those he kept firmly under wraps. Considering his women exited their relationships with him better off by furs and diamonds and cars, he didn’t think it was an unfair trade-off.
‘What?’ he asked.
Their eyes tangled and he didn’t look away. But she was desperate to. He could see it in those sherry-coloured eyes and in her sudden flush. She wanted to look away but she was drawn to look at him.
What would she be like under those clothes? What noises did she make when she made love? What would it feel like to touch her between her legs...to hold her small breasts in his big hands...to lick her nipples...?
He cleared his throat, got a grip. He liked the fact that he never lost control when he was with a woman. Never. He had no idea why he kept veering off in that direction now. Was it the salty tang of the sea air? He was here on a fact-finding mission and yet he felt as though he was playing truant from real life. Was that it?
‘I’ve known lots of art students...’ She tiptoed around her words, not wanting them to sound offensive. Artists could sometimes be very sensitive souls. ‘And you’re nothing like any of them...’
‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Daniel drawled. He immediately sideswiped a sudden twinge of guilt at his masquerade. ‘I pride myself on being one of a kind.’
‘That’s what I mean,’ Delilah blurted out. ‘You’d never hear an artist come out with something as arrogant as that.’ She pressed the palms of her hands against her cheeks, mortified. ‘I’m so—so sorry...’ she stammered.
When Gerry and Catherine had made noises about the crew trying to persuade their guests into prolonging their stay, she didn’t think that one of the methods they would have advised using would have been insults. Delilah was horrified at what she had said. She was not the sort who ever did anything but encourage.
Having grown up with her wildly unorthodox background, she knew only too well the frailty of human beings—the way they could be lovable and exasperating at the same time. She had seen the way her sister had made allowances for their mum and dad, and she, too, had fallen into line, doing the same. She also knew how hurtful unintentionally blunt statements could be. Her mum had once told Sarah, without meaning to offend at all, that too much maths was turning her into a very boring person. Delilah didn’t think that her sister had ever forgotten that stray remark, which had been accompanied by a merry laugh and a fond ruffling of her hair.
