Going Overboard (30 page)

“About how I'll model this necklace for you. I'm trying to decide what
else
I'll wear.”

“I was thinking Chanel No. 5.” His hand drifted over her hair. “But that happens to be a personal fantasy of mine.”

“You might just get lucky,” she whispered.

He pulled her closer. “I have big plans for that rose later, and they may take a long, long time.”

She drew a husky breath. “Your dacha or mine, comrade?”

“Call me greedy.” McKay slid the amber necklace into place. “I want you in both.”

They made the jaunt to her cabin in record time, both breathless and fevered when they reached their corridor.

McKay stood listening at the door, then took a step backward, pulling her against the wall. “Don't move,” he whispered.

“Why?”

“Because someone's in there.”

C
arly edged closer. “Maybe it's the hall maid turning down the bed. Or your partner.”

“Or maybe not.”

In a smooth, practiced movement McKay reached for the gun beneath his jacket, then motioned her back out of sight and inserted her key. Sweeping open the door, he entered the room with weapon leveled making quarter turns while studying the shadows.

Something rustled near the curtains. Perfume drifted on the air.

“Carly, is that you?”

McKay recognized the voice. “It's Daphne.” With his gun still level, he flipped on the light and frowned at the sight of Daphne curled on the sofa, her face white and drawn. Quickly, he finished checking the room and the adjoining bathroom, then holstered his weapon. “You can come in now, Carly. All clear.”

She charged in after him and sank down beside Daphne, who looked confused. “Does he always enter a cabin with his weapon drawn?”

McKay smiled broadly. “Only on a quiet day. Sometimes I carry grenades.”

Daphne gave a chuckle, but the sound was shaky. “I know I shouldn't bother you.” Her shoulders fell and she seemed to turn in on herself. “It's … David. We were going to have the whole cruise together and I was all set to

tell him about the baby, but there was no time. He didn't even stay one night. He's already on his way back to Switzerland.”

“He's
what?”
Carly hissed.

“Gone. Via helicopter, two hours ago. He said there was an emergency in Geneva, but I should stay and enjoy the cruise. As if I could.”

“And you didn't tell him you're pregnant?”

Daphne drew a ragged breath. “In the middle of waltz lessons didn't seem the right time to announce it. After that there were always people around—his assistant, who came with the helicopter, and then someone from the ship's crew.” She swept a hand over her damp cheeks. “Maybe I won't tell him. Maybe the wedding is off. If he's this way now, what kind of husband and father will he be?”

“First things first,” Carly said briskly. Daphne responded best to challenges, not commiseration. There was also her health to be considered. “Have you eaten anything?”

Daphne shrugged. “A shrimp cocktail this afternoon. Some caviar later.”

“Nothing like hitting the important food groups. First you're going to eat a proper meal. Then you're going to rest.”

Daphne straightened her shoulders. “I shouldn't be here bothering you. I'm sure you had better things planned for tonight than playing nursemaid to a maudlin female.”

“You're not maudlin,” Carly said firmly. “I'll call room service while you wash up.”

Daphne looked at McKay. “Does she order
you
around like this?”

“Sometimes I get to order her around. She's beautiful when she's angry.”

Daphne gave a shaky laugh. “Do you happen to have any brothers?”

“Two of them, but I'm afraid neither one is the marrying
kind. They never have settled down and probably never will.”

“There's a lot of that going around,” Daphne muttered. “But David's got a surprise in store. I'm not going to mope about a man who considers faxed notes to be quality social interaction.”

“Hard to hold hands in the moonlight via fax,” McKay agreed.

Daphne vanished into the bathroom, and Carly rang the floor steward to order a meal to be sent to Daphne's cabin. After she hung up, she stared out the windows at the darkness of endless water, lit only by the ship's lights. “Why would a man do something like that? Doesn't he know the pain he's causing?”

“Hard to say why people do anything.”

“But why would he arrange this whole trip, then leave five hours into the voyage?”

“Maybe he was telling the truth about his business.”

Carly cut off a sharp answer as Daphne reappeared pale but smiling. “I promise I'll be out of your way in a few minutes.”

“No rush.” McKay opened the door, checked the corridor discreetly, then stepped outside.

Daphne watched him intently. “Did my father set this all up?”

“Afraid so. But he was right to get involved. There have been too many problems.”

“I can't tell you how distraught we were about what happened at Paradise Cay.”

Carly shivered. “I didn't think I'd ever feel warm again. And that horrible body.” She linked arms with Daphne, frowning. “Let's talk about something more pleasant.”

“Good idea.” Daphne slanted a glance at Ford in his tailored tuxedo. “All I can say is, that man has one prime, sexy butt. In the unbiased assessment of a simple observer,” she added.

“There has never been anything simple about you,”

Carly said as McKay motioned them across the hall into Daphne's cabin. “And kindly keep your assessment of his body's parts to yourself.”

“Anytime you want to share details, I'll be happy to listen.”

“Dream on.”

Daphne actually laughed as they walked into her cabin. Due to the magic of a flawlessly trained kitchen staff, her meal arrived only seconds after they did. McKay stood back as Izzy guided in the service cart with a flourish.

“You were supposed to be watching her,” he murmured.

“I was. I let her into Carly's suite,” he whispered while Carly took Daphne into the bedroom to change. “When I saw how upset she was, I thought she'd better wait there for you two.”

“It worked, I guess.” McKay watched Izzy clear off the elegant teakwood side table, shift a huge vase of white roses to a nightstand, then deftly spread a linen tablecloth. “You've been practicing, I see.”

“Got to do something while you live the high life.”

McKay raised a domed cover and pretended to examine a plate of perfectly cooked fettucini with pesto sauce and pine nuts. “Any news about the galloping financier?”

“All I know is, money was flowing like water on deck today. It's not cheap to get choppered out of this floating pleasure palace.”

“Money doesn't appear to be Halloran's problem,” McKay said dryly. “See what you can find out,” he added. “Something about him bothers me.”

“No kidding.” Izzy turned. “Is everything satisfactory, ma'am?” he asked smoothly as Daphne and Carly returned.

Daphne gave him a dazzling smile. “It looks lovely. I can't wait to eat.”

“By the way, someone named Thompson has been looking for you,” Izzy said quietly as McKay followed

him to the door. “For Carly, too. I haven't found out why, but I know he's with the captain's staff.”

“I'll keep it in mind.” McKay closed the door, only to find Carly right behind him. “How is she doing?”

“She's eating, at least. I could murder the man.”

“She's got hard decisions to make. With a baby involved, things get complicated.” McKay frowned. “But Halloran should know so he can be involved.”

“His
idea of being involved would be to send congratulations via the Internet.”

“He has the right to know,” Ford said firmly. “Any man does.”

“That's up to Daphne. She'll have the stretch marks and the midnight feedings.”

“Takes two to make a child last time I checked.”

“What are you two arguing about?” Daphne called.

“Nothing important. You've got to eat more than that.” Carly crossed her arms. “Otherwise I'm not leaving.”

McKay braced one shoulder against the veranda door. “Carly's right. You should eat more.”

Daphne picked at some salad took another bite of pasta, then pushed away her plate. “That's it. You two get going now. I'm going to settle in with a good book, and tomorrow I'll decide what I'm going to do about David.” She squeezed Carly's hand. “Go away and dance till dawn.”

Carly hesitated. “You'll be okay?”

Daphne stood up, smiling wistfully. “I'll manage. Meanwhile, there's a moonlit deck somewhere just waiting for you. Go find it.”

“Nice lady,” Ford said as he walked Carly to her suite. “Tough decisions.”

“She'll do the right thing.”

McKay toyed with the silver clasp at Carly's breast. “Am I finally going to see how this thing works?”

“Right here in the hallway? That must break some ship rule.”

“I'm in the mood to break a few rules.” His fingers combed through her hair and he felt her tremble, responsive to even that light caress.

Suddenly her mood changed and she tugged him to a halt outside her door. “I have one favor.”

“Only one?”

“I'm serious, McKay.” She stared at his shirt, her body stiff. “When the time comes to leave, don't say goodbye. Don't say anything, just go.”

He tilted her face up to his, surprised. “Why?”

“Just because.”

“You're asking me to walk out without a word or a backward glance?”

“It's the only way,” she whispered. “After my mother … I hate goodbyes.”

Her answer made sense, even though he didn't like the idea, but before he could question her further, low footsteps down the corridor made him turn swiftly and pull her behind him.

A balding man in a gray uniform swept around the corner and bore down on them. “Mr. McKay?” He studied Carly as if checking her face against a photograph. “And you are Carolina Sullivan?”

McKay interrupted Carly's answer. “Why? Is there some problem?”

The man's mouth thinned. “I'd call it a problem. I've got a dead body upstairs. I'm afraid I have to ask you some questions.”

C
arly gripped McKay's shoulder. “Dead?” she whispered.

“That's right, Ms. Sullivan.”

“Are you Thompson?” McKay demanded.

“That's right. Ship security. The deceased was a woman named Aimee Joy Fiorento. I believe she was a friend of yours.”

Carly just stared. “Aimee is dead? She was involved with the model we hired for the onboard shoot.”

“You have some ID?” McKay asked curtly.

“Of course.” The officer produced a badge with a recent photo, which Ford glanced at and then returned. “Let's go inside,” he said closing the door and ushering Carly to a chair. “When did it happen?”

“I'll ask the questions, Mr. McKay.” Thompson eyed the spacious suite as if looking for clues. “First, I need to know where you two were between the hours of five and nine tonight.”

“What the hell for?” McKay snapped.

“Because the victim's body showed signs of contusions and severe bruising along the neck. Neither suggests a simple accident.”

“You think we were involved?” McKay snarled.

“A number of people reported seeing Ms. Fiorento and Ms. Sullivan arguing tonight in the Crystal Club.” Thompson cleared his throat. “As I

understand it, there was some dispute over a broken contract.”

“Check again. Aimee was the only one arguing tonight.” Carly sat tensely, her face far too pale. McKay had an urge to deck the security officer and cut off any more questions.

He allowed himself to enjoy the fantasy as he poured Carly a glass of champagne. “You're out of line, Thompson. You'd better get your facts straight.”

“That's exactly why I'm here, Mr. McKay.” The officer flipped open a small notebook. “Why were you two arguing?” he asked Carly.

“She
was the one arguing. Her boyfriend had recently been replaced on this project for professional reasons, which was within the terms of our contract. I might also point out that the two retained their free cruise, along with half of his booking price, as reparation.”

Thompson tapped his pencil on his notebook, and McKay had the impression that the man knew he was in over his head. He probably didn't have that many people buying the farm on a luxury cruise, McKay thought. “What happened to her?”