Caribbean Passion Ch. 05

"They're called husbands and men," replied Mrs. Clanton.

The Chief Purser raised her eyebrows. "Well, Mrs. Clanton, we will take your comments onboard and steps will be taken to address the issue in due course."

"I feel fobbed off," replied the woman.

The Chief Purser sighed. "OK, you can have 10% off your next cruise."

Mrs. Clanton rose. "Thank you. See you in about six weeks, when I can afford another cruise." She went out.

"I'm sure the company will await your ninety dollars with baited breath," said the Chief Purser to herself.

Once the passengers had "debarked" ("disembarked" is far too long a word for cruise lines to use on a daily basis), the day in Canaveral passed quickly. Lucia found herself with little to do except wait for four o'clock when the ship sailed.

At around two, outside in the terminal, a car slowly pulled up outside the terminal building. Inside the car, Pablo Rodriguez impatiently waited as the rather elderly-looking American man pulled up on the handbrake.

"We're here," said Duke.

Pablo flung open the rear door and got out. Rising to his full six feet two height, he surveyed the scene. Sunshine. Blue sky. So much different from New York. No more New York City dance crew work in dingy garage dens and neon-lit nightclubs. This was a new start. With any luck, he might meet some nice women. Tropical women. Spring breakers. Hot babes in bikinis sunbathing on deck.

Women in New York City were smart, sassy, hot to trot and didn't take any junk from anyone. Truth was, neither did he. He could see straight away when a woman wanted him. She would eye him over, like what she saw and come on over. She would bite her bottom lip, twirl her hair and involuntarily arch her back to show herself off to her best advantage. It was like second nature to him, women did it all the time.

Pablo heaved his backpack onto one shoulder and headed off through the terminal building. Passing a security guard, he walked along the gangway, past the photographer and up to the entrance to the ship. Entering the lobby, he saw the Pursers Office. The ship's agent at the airport had told him to report there. Just as he passed the staircase, he turned to see a woman climbing the stairs.

Suddenly she stopped, pausing briefly. Her eyes widened to take more in, then closed slightly as a flame appeared in her eyes -- a hungry flame, one that Pablo recognized; the flame of desire. Her eyes roved down his form, taking in his chiseled jawline, wide chest that narrowed under his white shirt to a V taper; his narrow waist, strong arms and firm, masculine legs.

He saw her gorgeous, black cascading hair, her olive skin, her long, trained legs, pouting lips and those fabulous, full breasts that seemed to strain beneath her white golf shirt. Her white shorts revealed elegant thighs that caused a jolt of pleasure in his loins that he had no business feeling, topped off by white socks and sneakers on her feet.

"Hello," said Pablo. "Who might you be?"

The woman looked directly at him with steady, wanting eyes. "Hi," she said. "I'm Lucia."