High Stakes Seduction - Book 2 (10 page)

Heavens, I thought, if this child can face her issues like this, then certainly I can do a better job!

Chapter Twenty-Five

ANGELA

After last night I'd been worried. Worried Antonio would change his mind about having me on the cruise. Worried I wouldn't meet his expectations. Worried I wouldn't be able to get the money for Maria's operation. Even worried for his safety.

The events from the previous evening kept running through my mind—Antonio with those girls at the burlesque show. With those guys outside the casino.
That blasted casino
. Antonio sitting at that table. And it reminded me again that my father's gambling addiction was the cause of how I'd come to be here in the first place.

But even though he'd been quiet that morning, he hadn't seemed angry. Kind of the opposite, actually.

I woke up first, planning to order breakfast in so we could talk. It was a little hard to surprise him, though, given his bedroom was just inside the door.

Luckily, he was up and in the shower when the porter arrived, so I set up everything on the veranda and greeted him with a cup of coffee when he came into the room.

"To what do I owe this special attention?" he asked, sipping the coffee appreciatively.

"I thought about what you said. It's a kind of peace offering?" I looked at him hopefully.

"Well, thank you, Angela. There's no need to apologize. It must be tough being on your own all the time onboard ship. I've also been thinking about our conversations, and I have a couple of ideas."

As soon as he mentioned "ideas" I told my overactive imagination and libido to shut the heck up.

"I think there's a way we can use that photographic talent of yours. I hear from Pris that you offered some intelligent suggestions not too long ago."

Those grainy publicity shots?
"Oh, I just noticed how grainy and poorly lit some of the photos were from one of the recent shoots. I didn't think they were particularly attractive, given how beautiful the models and their outfits were."

"So, tell me more about your photography."

I looked at him for a moment, wishing I had some exciting story to explain my passion for taking photos. But I didn’t, so shrugged and simply told the truth.

"It's something I started in high school, as a hobby. Then in college, I kind of branched out. I've always been fascinated by how beautifully expressive people can be, especially on their special days. I like being able to record those precious moments."

"Weddings?"

"Yes. And birthdays, and new babies. I guess I'm a romantic."

"I see. Then I'm glad I had you in that meeting with Tamblin. You're used to observing people, and probably used to seeing the subtlety in their expressions."

"That's what I look for. But you have to be quick, or it's over fast and you lose the opportunity."

"Do much outdoor photography?"

"I actually prefer outdoor weddings and parties. Sometimes they're more difficult, because you can't control the elements. But if you get it right, it's wonderful."

Antonio studied me for just a moment longer. Setting down his coffee cup, he leaned forward, smiling conspiratorially.

"Listen, I have a great idea. I'm far busier on this trip than I want to be.” He grinned as my eyebrows expressly communicated ‘oh really’?

“I know, I know,” he went on and had the grace to look a bit embarrassed. "But that was set up before… before I knew you'd be coming along. I'll get away when I can. But in the meantime, I want you to keep a lookout for places we might use in photo shoots for Carlo and Poula's new line. I'm beginning to like the idea of shooting it outside, and even if we don't use settings in the Caribbean, perhaps we can find something similar when we visit them in Europe."

"Oh, I would never feel comfortable doing a photographic shoot for them."

"You don't have to do the photography, but that will remain to be seen. All I'm asking for, is that you keep an eye out for spots that would reflect the freshness of their designs. We'll make the final decisions together."

"But other than that first meeting, I don't know what their designs really look like. How can I judge what settings would be appropriate?"

"Some of their new ideas are on the flash drive I gave you. Have you looked through it yet? No? Take a quick look before you head out today. You'll find everything you need to know about them—as well as how to contact them for our upcoming trip."

I stared out at the bright reflections on the ocean. Travel coordinator, photo shoot canvasser, account manager. Maybe I had misunderstood this whole thing? Holy crap. If that was the case, I had some backpedaling to do. Now I was starting to really feel foolish.

"Okay, I'm off to my meeting. There's no rush on setting up our visit. So long as arrangements are made by the end of the trip, I'll be satisfied. And Angela," he reached over to take my hand. "When you get back this afternoon, we'll talk some more."

Damn the man
, now I was all tingly again. I could certainly have done without his touch. Every time I thought I had my emotions handled, something like this happened. This was turning out to be a far more difficult trip than I had imagined.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Another island—St. Lucia, this time, and Antonio had stayed onboard the ship yet again. But after our talk, I had expected it, and besides, I had an assignment.

Here I was, surrounded by beautiful scenery, happy people, and nice, warm sunshine, doing my best to keep my thoughts off Antonio Mancini.

“I can’t believe I’m going to see a real volcano!” said the young woman behind me as our little tour bus pulled away. She was one of five other people crammed into the tour bus with me. At first, I tried to ignore her, but the limited space made it impossible, and it really wasn’t like me to be rude, no matter how horrible I was feeling.

“I’ve heard it’s really amazing,” I managed, remembering what I’d read in the itinerary before I’d left the cabin that morning. The truth was, it really did sound fascinating.

“I’m Tina,” said the woman, her short auburn bob dancing around her face as she spoke. “And this is my husband, Greg.” The man leaned forward to wave to everyone.

Vanessa and Charlotte introduced themselves next, best friends who had been saving for this trip for ages.

“I’m Angela,” I said. “I’m here on, um, a business trip.”

“Wow,” said Vanessa. “I’d love to work where you do!”

Everyone laughed at that, including the tour guide, Damian, who leaned back in the driver’s seat to call over his shoulder. “If your job lets you visit my beautiful island,” he said in a thick, cheerful accent, “then you have definitely found the right career.”

With introductions out of the way, Damian took over the conversation, maneuvering the bus through the winding rocky roads. He seemed to know everyone. Men and women, young and old, all had a smile and wave for him as we passed. He was practically hanging out the window to wave to people or shake hands. Twice, he actually stopped to grab us tasty treats from the locals.

“This is the West Coast Road,” Damian said in his sing-song voice as he turned the bus, leaving Castries, the capital city, behind.

The view along the roller coaster road was spectacular. Once again, I silently thanked Maria for making sure I brought my camera, especially now that Antonio had also given his blessing. Lush greenery, a rainbow of flowers, and the sapphire ocean beyond gave me plenty of opportunity for capturing the beauty of the island.

“I think you will want to take some special pictures of my beautiful country,” Damian said with a wink. His casual driving along the narrow road made me incredibly nervous, but his exuberance and pure love for the country and his job made it impossible for me not to get swept up in the excitement and beauty of this trip.

“This is our world famous banana plantation,” he boasted, pulling the bus onto a dirt road. Damian grinned at us, silent for the moment, waiting for a response instead of gushing with history.

“Why are we stopping to look at
bananas
?” I heard Greg mutter, but he didn’t complain when we got out to stretch our legs, walking among the rows upon rows of large-leafed trees.

I clicked away with my camera, capturing images of the cheerful workers and the bunches of yellowing bananas hanging from the trees.

“You’ve never tasted a banana until you come to the islands,” said a woman with a gapped-tooth smile.

Vanessa and Charlotte were giggling behind me, but a moment later, I was snapping pictures of their elation as they tasted the delicious fruit. The woman was right. The bananas I’d bought every week at the grocery store could not compare with the intense flavor that practically sang in my mouth.

After another bumpy jaunt, Damian let us out for a hike to the Piton Waterfalls. I was grateful for my new hiking boots—yet another investment for this trip that I never would have imagined being able to afford before. They were a big help on the fifteen-minute walk.

Some of the others complained along the trail, but when we reached the mineral falls, they sighed with relief as they slipped their bare feet into the pristine waters. With a happy nod from Damian, Greg and Tina stripped down to their bathing suits and hopped into the pool, splashing and playing like children beneath the mist of the falls.

“Angela!” Tina called to me. The shimmering blue butterfly I was following slipped away when I turned to see what she wanted. “Come join us!” she cried happily.

I smiled, turning my camera on them. “No, don’t pose, Greg,” I said, trying not to laugh at his antics as he mugged for the camera. “Just relax and have fun.”

The lovely couple went back to their games. With each click, I felt a little pang of envy. I tried to imagine Antonio splashing around in the water like Greg, grabbing me from behind and planting playful kisses along my neck and shoulders as the waters cascaded down upon us.

“All right, ladies and ge'mens,” called Damian, saving me from my own tumultuous imagination. “It’s time to move on to our next stop!”

The temperature rose steadily, and I was thankful to be riding in an air-conditioned bus. At least the cramped ride inside the bus was bearable as we bumped along to our next stop at Soufriere.

“A drive-in volcano?” Charlotte asked.

"Oh, yes, it is our premier stop," Damian said as he skillfully maneuvered the bus into the volcano, proudly informing us that it was the only one of its kind. We held our noses at the strong smell of sulfur. But it wasn't long before the smell was forgotten as we hiked further inside to view the sulfur springs, surrounded by colorful rock formations. I knelt to pick up a rock, admiring the iridescent colors that flashed across its surface.

We tumbled back into the bus after about twenty-five minutes. The rest of the trip flew by too quickly, but I was looking forward to reliving it all with Maria with all the pictures I’d taken.

On the drive back, we stopped briefly at the mud baths, and this time I took advantage of them. After all, they are supposed to make you look decades younger, and a girl can't be too prissy about erasing years from her face.

I have to admit, it was a strange feeling being surrounded by mud—hot mud. I certainly felt like a kid again—kind of like being allowed to lay around in a giant mud puddle with no one telling me not to. The mud was a bit sticky, but definitely soothing and oddly refreshing. After a while of being immersed, though, I began to feel slightly claustrophobic—I was never one to deal very well with heat and humidity, and in the mud bath, there was no way to escape from either one. I was actually grateful when our time was up.

A quick but thorough rinse, and we were back on the bus again, this time turned for home. We passed the magnificent Pitons again, another photo opportunity—the pair of peaks rising more than 2500 feet into the air, right out of the ocean.

After the relaxation of the mud baths, we all felt a little sleepy, so Damian stopped at a local bar and bought us all a round of drinks. I suspect this was a regular stop—the bartender seemed to be quite familiar with Damian. But, it was awfully good rum, and I wasn't complaining—I noticed the others weren't either.

On the road once again, Damian began singing a local folk song, teaching us the melody. Soon enough, we were all loudly singing along, swaying back and forth to the rhythm of the music and the bouncing bus.

Suddenly, the bus swerved more than usual, wrenching me out of my seat. Just as I thrust my hands out to stop from crashing into Vanessa, the bus swerved in the other direction. Involuntarily, I screamed, as did others. Before I could catch my breath, we were rushing downward, bouncing against the seat railing and jostling into each other. With an ear-wrenching scrape of metal against rock, we were thrown against the wall of the bus as it fell sideways, skidding briefly before righting itself as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Is everyone all right?” Damian said, his voice shaking just a touch. Although he tried to sound calm, I could tell he was just as frightened as we were.

There were some moans and grunts as we straightened ourselves out, but thankfully, no one was seriously hurt.