Chapter 5

Rai heard the waiter bow slightly. “Yes, of course, May I get you something to eat or drink, sir?”

“Two glasses of Porto Rocha 20-year, Charles, and the chef ’s special dessert.”

“Right away, sir.”

Rai observed the dialog with curiosity. Z could not just be a porter with all the respect he commanded from the crew. “You seem to be well respected,” she commented.

“The Taylor crew shows everyone respect.”

“Uh, huh.” She replied, sipping the last of her

Pinot Noir. “Are you off duty?”

“Yes,” he clipped, as if not wanting to answer.

After a long moment of silence, she finally asked, “What brings you to my table, Mr. Z?”

“You looked as if you could use some company.” She scoffed, then reached for her water, equally drained as her wine. “I actually enjoy my solitude.”

“Would you like me to leave?”

She thought about it for a moment, relishing in the giddiness welling up inside her. She hadn’t felt this way around a man for far too long. What harm would it do to share space with him? It’s a cruise. There was never any danger of a serious relationship starting on a cruise, right? “No. Please stay.”

“Did you enjoy your meal?” He asked.

“Very much. Charles has taken very good care of me.”

“Yes, he’s a polished waiter and a real gem.”

As if on cue, Charles came and set two cordial glasses down on the table, and a rather large plate in the center. “Porto Rocha 20-year, and the chef’s special,” he announced. Rai heard the sound of a lighter ignite and flame rising from the plate in the center. The heat of it carried the scent of ripe cherries laced with sweet liqueur. The flame was short-lived, leaving only mouth-watering sweetness in its lingering wake.

“Enjoy,” said Charles, taking his leave.

“This is Mark’s personal rendition of cherries jubilee. It is remarkable with a good tawny port.”

“I’ve never tried port,” said Rai.

He slid the cordial glass toward her. “On your left.”

She plucked the fragile crystal glass from the table and set it to her lips. Thick, sweet wine seeped into her mouth, coating her tongue with hints of cocoa, coffee, and spice. “Mmm,” she hummed. “This is heavenly.”

“Now,” he said, “place a bite of this jubilee on your tongue and take another sip of port.”

Rai’s brows gathered as she tried to imagine the odd combination. She scooped a small portion on the tip of her spoon, placed the warm cherries in her mouth, and then took another sip. The blend of flavors was like a well-choreographed dance, with notes of cherry brandy, tart fruit, spice, and bitter chocolate. She took her time, allowing all the flavors to merge and linger before swallowing. A smile formed on her lips. “That is truly magical.”

Z laughed; a deep resonant tone that made her warm inside. It was a sound she would not mind hearing again and again. “You look like a child who just had her first taste of chocolate.”

She pointed her spoon toward the decadent desert. “This is far better than any chocolate I’ve ever had.” She took another bite.

“Do you like to dance?” He asked.

Rai nearly choked on her port. “Excuse me?” She dabbed at her mouth, trying to recover from her shock and embarrassment.

“Dancing,” he said. “Do you enjoy it?”

“Dancing?”

“Yes, you know, two people on a hardwood floor, moving to the sound of music?”

“I know what dancing is,” she replied more harshly than intended.

He sat there in silence, no doubt wearing an incredulous look on his face. The most uncomfortable moments she often experienced was unexpected silence. She couldn’t read facial expressions and could only speculate what the other person was thinking or feeling. Guessing he would not speak first, she finally added, “Why do you ask?”

“I would like to take you dancing tonight, if you don’t have other plans.”

She couldn’t remember the last time a man asked her to dance. Come to think of it, there was never a first—until now. “I don’t know how to dance,” she replied, burying her embarrassment by draining her glass of port. Her words had become clipped and guarded, which only furthered her guilt.

“Then I’ll teach you,” he explained, his voice calm and far more confident than it should be. Most men retracted from her abrasiveness, if not downright cowered from it. This man spoke as if she had reacted in kindness, not shock.

“I’m sure you have better things to do with your time off.” She lifted her glass, and then remembered that she had drained the delicate cordial as if it held nothing more potent than water.

“Would you like another?” He asked.

Feeling the warmth of its effects already, she shook her head. “I’d better not. This stuff promises quite a kick.”

He chuckled. “That, it does.” Another span of silence ensued.

Rai began sipping her water, needing something to do under the weight of his stare. Even though she couldn’t see his face, she could feel him stronger than she could feel most people. That realization bothered her more than it should, she thought, draining her glass.

“More water?” He asked.

She set the glass down, and then forced her fidgeting fingers to rest in her lap. They began gripping the fabric of her skirt as if it provided a lifeline. “I think I’m ready to go.”

He scooted his chair out and stood to assist her.

“I’m quite capable, Mr. Z.”

“I’m sure you are, but I am still a gentleman.” When he took her hand, she pulled it back,

alarmed by his possessiveness. With more of that confounded confidence, he gently reached for it again and squeezed. “Who hurt you?” He asked, a note of warning in his tone.

She felt her blood sink, as if someone had placed her into a centrifuge and pressed the button for high-spin. Was she that transparent? None of her past suitors had noticed, nor had they ever wanted to know anything about her past. Why was this man so interested? “Someone I want to forget,” she answered, her voice barely audible.

“Come with me,” he said, urging her forward; more of a command than a request.

Her instincts warned her to bolt from this man and avoid further contact with him, but not wanting to make a scene, she followed him out of the restaurant and down the hall.

“I need to stop by the privy, if you don’t mind.”

“I assumed, given the amount of water you drank.”

“Nervous habit,” she admitted. “I make you nervous?”

“Your interest in spending time with me makes me nervous.”

He squeezed her hand before stopping and urging her to face him. “I find you intriguing, Miss Landon, but rest assured, I am not looking for a relationship.” His hand relaxed around hers when she breathed with relief.

“Thank you for that,” she said. “I’m not sure I’m ready for another failed friendship due to unobtainable expectations.”

“I promise; I expect nothing from you aside from your company.” He guided her to the privy.

“No need to wait for me,” she called back.

“I know,” he replied.

She stifled a groan, knowing it would make her seem childish. In truth, she relished the idea of having someone to talk to and not having to return to her cabin straight away.