Billionaire's Scandalous Twins

Chapter 3

She wasn’t ready to give up the sun.

Isobel set her coffee cup down on the glass-topped table, turned her face to the sky and let the warm, late-morning sunshine pour over her like a blessing. Despite the fact that there were people around her, laughing, talking, diving into the pool, sending walls of water up in splashing waves, she felt alone in the light. And she really wasn’t ready to sink back into the belly of the ship.

But she’d sent her note to Nick. And she’d told him where to find her. In that tiny, less-than-closet-size cabin. So she’d better be there when he arrived. With a sigh, she stood, slung her bag over her left shoulder and threaded her way through the crowds lounging on the Verandah Deck.

Someone touched her arm and Isobel stopped.

“Leaving already?” Mary Curran was smiling at her, and Isobel returned that smile with one of her own.

“Yeah. I have to get back down to my cabin. I um, have to meet someone there.” At least, she was fairly certain Nick would show up. But what if he didn’t? What if he didn’t care about the fact that he was the father of her twin sons? What if he dismissed her note as easily as he’d deleted all of her attempts at e-mail communication?

A small, hard knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She’d like to see him try, that’s all. They were on a ship in the middle of the ocean. How was he going to escape her? Nope. Come what may, she was going to have her say. She was going to face him down, at last, and tell him what she’d come to say.

“Oh God, honey.” Mary grimaced and gave a dramatic shudder. “Do you really want to have a con­versation down in the pit?”

Isobel laughed. “The pit?”

“That’s what my husband, Joe, christened it in the middle of the night when he nearly broke his shin trying to get to the bathroom.”

Grinning, Isobel said, “I guess the name fits all right. But yeah. I have to do it there. It’s too private to be done up here.”

Mary’s eyes warmed as she looked at Isobel and said, “Well, then, go do whatever it is you have to do. Maybe I’ll see you back in the sunshine later?”

Isobel nodded. She knew how cruise passengers tended to bond together. She’d seen it herself in the time

she’d actually worked for Falcon Cruises. Friendships formed fast and furiously. People who were in rela­tively tight quarters—stuck on a ship in the middle of the ocean—tended to get to know each other more quickly than they might on dry land.

Shipboard romances happened, sure—just look what had happened to her. But more often, it was other kinds of relationships that bloomed and took hold. And right about now, Isobel decided, she could use a friendly face.

“You bet,” she said, giving Mary a wide smile. “How about margaritas on the Calypso Deck? About five?”

Delighted, Mary beamed at her. “I’ll be there.”

As Isobel walked toward the elevator, she told herself that after her upcoming chat with Nick, she was prob­ably going to need a margarita or two.

Nick jolted to his feet so fast, his desk chair shot backward, the wheels whirring against the wood floor until the chair slammed into the glass wall behind him.

“Is this a joke?”

Nick held the pale blue card in one tight fist and stared down at two tiny faces. The babies were identi­cal except for their expressions. One looked into the camera and grinned, displaying a lot of gum and one deep dimple. The other was watching the picture taker with a serious, almost thoughtful look on his face.

And they both looked a hell of a lot like him.

“Twins?”

In an instant, emotions he could hardly name raced

through him. Anger, frustration, confusion and back to anger again. How the hell could he be a father? Nobody he knew had been pregnant. This couldn’t be happen­ing. He glanced up at the empty office as if half expect­ing someone to jump out, shout, “You’ve just been punk’d,” and let him off the hook. But there were no cameras. There was no joke.

This was someone’s idea of serious.

Well, hell, he told himself, it wasn’t the first time some woman had tried to slap him with a paternity suit. But it was for damn sure the first time the gauntlet had been thrown down in such an imaginative way.

“Who, though?” He grabbed the envelope up, but only his name was scrawled across the front in a small, feminine hand. Turning over the card he still held, he saw more of that writing:

“We need to talk. Come to cabin 2A on the Riviera Deck.”

“Riviera Deck.” Though he hated like hell to admit it, he wasn’t sure which deck that was. He had a lot of ships in his line and this was his first sail on this par­ticular one. Though he meant to make Falcon’s Pride his home, he hadn’t had the chance yet to explore it from stem to stern as he did all the ships that carried his name.

For now, he stalked across the room to the framed set of detailed ship plans hanging on the far wall of his office. He’d had one done for each of the ships in his line. He liked looking at them, liked knowing that he was familiar with every inch of every ship. Liked know­

ing that he’d succeeded in creating the dream he’d started more than ten years before.

But at the moment, Nick wasn’t thinking of his cruise line or of business at all. Now all he wanted to do was find the woman who’d sent him this card so he could assure himself that this was all some sort of mistake.

Narrowing his pale blue eyes, he ran one finger down the decks until he found the one he was looking for. Then he frowned. According to this, the Riviera Deck was below crew quarters.

“What the hell is going on?” Tucking the card with the pictures of the babies into the breast pocket of his white, short-sleeved shirt, he half turned toward the office door and bellowed, “Rhonda!”

The door flew open a few seconds later and his assistant rushed in, eyes wide in stunned surprise. “Geez, what’s wrong? Are we on fire or something?”

He ignored the attempt at humor, as well as the look of puzzlement on her face. Stabbing one finger against the glass-covered ship plans, he said only, “Look at this.”

She hurried across the room, glanced at the plans, then shifted a look at him. “What exactly am I looking at?”

“This.” He tapped his finger against the lowest deck on the diagram. “The Riviera Deck.”

“Uh-huh.”

“There are people staying down there.”

“Oh.”

Pleased that she’d caught on so fast, Nick said, “When the ship came out of refit ready for passengers,

I said specifically that those lower cabins weren’t to be used.”

“Yeah, you did, boss.” She actually winced, whipped out her PDA and punched a few keys. “I’ll do some checking. Find out what happened.”

“You do that,” he said, irritated as hell that someone, somewhere, hadn’t paid attention to him. “For right now, though, find out how many of those cabins are occupied.”

“Right.”

While Rhonda worked her electronic wizardry, Nick looked back at the framed plans and shook his head. Those lower cabins were too old, too small to be used on one of his ships. Sure, they’d undergone some refur­bishing during the refit, but having them and using them were two different things. Those cabins, small and dark and cramped, weren’t the kind of image Nick wanted associated with his cruise line.

“Boss?” Rhonda looked at him. “According to the registry, only two of the five cabins are being used.”

“That’s something, anyway. Who’s down there?”

“1A is occupied by a Joe and Mary Curran.”

He didn’t know any Currans and besides, the card had come from whoever was in the only other occupied cabin on that deck.

So he waited.

“2A is…” Rhonda’s voice trailed off and Nick watched as his usually unflappable assistant chewed at her bottom lip.

That couldn’t be good.

“What is it?” When she didn’t answer right away, he demanded, “Just tell me who’s in the other cabin.”

“Isobel,” Rhonda said and blew out a breath. “Isobel Baker’s in 2A, Nick.”

Nick made record time getting down to the Riviera Deck, and by the time he reached it, he’d already made the decision to close up this deck permanently. Damned if he’d house his paying guests in what amounted to little more than steerage.

Stepping off the elevator, he hit his head on a low cross beam and muttered a curse. The creaks and groans of the big ship as it pushed through the waves echoed through the narrow passageway like ghosts howling. The sound of the water against the hull was a crushing heartbeat and it was so damned dark in the abbreviated hallway, even the lights in the wall sconces barely made a dent in the blackness. And the hall itself was so narrow he practically had to traverse it sideways. True, it was good business to make sure you provided less expensive rooms, but he’d deal with that another way. He’d be damned if his pas­sengers would leave a cruise blinking at the sun like bats.

With his head pounding, his temper straining on a tight leash, he stopped in front of 2A, took a breath and raised his right fist to knock. Before he could, the narrow door was wrenched open and there she stood.

Isobel Baker.

She shouldn’t have still been able to affect him. He’d had her after all. Had her and then let her go more than a year ago. So why then was he suddenly struck by the

turquoise-blue of her eyes? Why did that tight, firm mouth make him want to kiss her until her lips eased apart and let him back in? Why did the fact that she looked furious make his blood steam in his veins? What the hell did she have to be mad about?

“I heard you in the hall,” she said.

“Good ears,” he conceded. “Considering all the other noises down here.”

A brief, tight smile curved her mouth. “Yeah, it’s lovely living in the belly of the beast. When they raise anchor it’s like a symphony.”

He hadn’t considered that, but he was willing to bet the noise was horrific. Just another reason to seal up these rooms and never use them again. However, that was for another time. What he wanted now were answers.

“Good one,” he said. “That’s why you’re here, then? To talk about the ship?”

“You know why I’m here.”

He lifted one hand to the doorjamb and leaned in toward her. “I know what you’d like me to think. The question is, why? Why now? What’re you after, Isobel?”

“I’m not going to talk about this in the hall.”

“Fine.” He stepped inside, moving past her, but the quarters were so cramped, their chests brushed together and he could almost feel his skin sizzle.

It had been like that from the beginning. The moment he’d touched her that first night in the moonlight, he’d felt a slam of something that was damn near molten sliding through him. And it seemed that time hadn’t eased it back any.