Copyright © 2009, Amy Gallow
Published by Whiskey Creek Press LLC

Reviews For A FAIR TRADER by Amy Gallow

5 Books! “This story has it all. Good characterization, superbly set scenes, plenty of emotion and interweaving plots that splice seamlessly together at the end and provided the much anticipated HEA.”
Fennel, Long And Short Reviews

5 out of 5 Hearts, A Night Owl Romance Reviewer Top Pick! “Amy Gallow brings us a wonderful story set down under in Australia. Ruth Lambert is a stockbroker associate for Andrew McLeod and Partners. She has been working hard to attain her goal of being a partner in the firm, but she has completion for the spot. She is not the only one that wants the partnership; Alistair Hughes wants it as well. A Fair Trader is full of romance, mystery and action it's a story anyone will love. Get yourself a copy today and be entertained.” Zollyanna, Night Owl Romance

“This story surprised me. I admit to starting it and wondering if I would like it. Ms. Gallow does an excellent job writing a story. I really enjoyed it from start to finish. I enjoyed it enough to highlight and make notes in my ereader. I think Ms. Gallow captured the words to falling in true love. The feelings between elation and despair and being out of control. True love is like that sometimes. The book had good flow and really good characters. Characters that evolve as the story plays out.” Jennifer, Gotta Read Reviews

Ruth Lambert watched the sun’s disc slide into the watery rim of the western horizon, her folded arms resting on the teak rail capping of the Asiatic Princess. Behind her, the deck speakers were broadcasting the four-tone gong calling the passengers to dinner, but she maintained her vigil. She’d kept it each night since Tony Bates, the Third Officer, had described the fabled green flash as the last of the sun slips out of sight, its final rays refracted by the sea and turned green. He claimed he’d seen it, and, although she knew he lied without thought to women passengers, it had become her talisman. If she saw it, she’d know her eleven-day cruise to Hong Kong was not a mistake, and some devilishly handsome man would appear magically, sweep her off her feet and into his bed. She knew it was childish, but the alternative was accepting the hopelessly immature Tony Bates, who believed himself irresistible.

Time was running out for a miracle. The traditional final night party would follow dinner, and all she’d have left were ten days for shopping and sightseeing in Bangkok and Singapore before she flew back to Melbourne. She fought the tremble of her lower lip as the unfairness of it all brought her close to tears.

All too soon, the nineteenth-century prejudices of the male-dominated stock exchange would rule her life at Andrew McLeod and Partners. It would be back to power-dressing in business suits, with her abundance of rich auburn hair firmly disciplined to avoid their criticisms. Andrew McLeod and the senior partners would measure every word she said against their preconceptions as if it were her fault she was twenty-five and still had the face of a teenager.

Tonight, she could still dress to please herself. The russet glory of her unrestrained hair gleamed like burnished bronze as it framed her face. Flowing down in soft waves, it brushed gently on shoulders bared by the halter neck of a green silk cocktail dress, cut to leave little doubt it embraced a woman’s body.

“Damn,” she muttered, wishing the sun gone. It was stupid, waiting out here for a myth. It was up to her to make the night memorable, not some fairytale prince conjured by her desperation. Her fingers drummed on the rail as if to hasten time, but the sun ignored her, continuing its almost imperceptible movement until it finally disappeared below the horizon without even a hint of green. The voyage had been a mistake. She pushed back from the rail in disgust and turned away, coming face to face with a stranger.

“Hello.” The fading light illuminated his face clearly. “I’ve come to invite you to join us.”

Perhaps magic did work. This was not only a prince amongst men, but also someone she’d not seen before. Clean-shaven, with strong, masculine features, incredibly blue eyes regarding her quizzically, his was a face she’d not forget easily. Her backward step was surprise, not fear, but her left heel slipped on the edge of the wooden decking, and she stumbled sharply. She didn’t fall. The movement triggered an instinctive response, and his right hand grasped her upper arm to steady her. The grip, firm but not rough, sent an electric shock through her body, and she quivered, her eyes closing for an instant. When they opened, her prince was still there.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” He let go of her arm, and his hand fell to his side.

Ruth felt the chill rush of shock recede, allowing her to see him as a whole, rather than just a face. An immaculately fitted white uniform with four gold stripes on the shoulder bars explained a great deal.

“You’re our mysterious Chief Engineer.” The empty chair next to her at the foot of the Captain’s table had been the subject of intense speculation.

“Guilty as charged,” he admitted, and her spine tingled at the timbre of his voice.

“Where have you been hiding yourself?”

“Prior obligations.”

Part of her mind admired the economy of words, but the remainder damned it. She wanted to immerse herself in the sound of his voice. It resonated with some undiscovered truth deep inside her, and she wanted it to go on forever. This voyage suddenly promised more than disappointment.

“I am Ruth Lambert,” she said, extending her hand.

“Matthew Parker,” he acknowledged and took her hand. His skin was firm and dry, the pressure of his response precisely measured to match her own. Just politeness on his part, but Ruth found her fingers unconsciously tightening around his to extend the contact. He made no move to escape her grasp.

“Are you joining us tonight?” She wanted to hear him speak once more.

“Yes.”

Even in casual conversation, he appeared to measure his words, a questionable virtue to Ruth at this moment. She searched her mind for another gambit, something to provoke a longer response.

“You seem young to be a chief engineer,” she said. There might be a conscious maturity in his face, but he was physically no more than his mid-thirties and could easily be younger.

“Then I must be older than I look,” he suggested, his grin hinting she should understand better than most.

“Matthew, our table is ready. Will you come in now?” a familiar voice interrupted, and Ruth turned to see the captain, who’d come to usher them into the dining saloon.

She turned back when Matthew said, “Would you like to go in now?”

Ruth nodded and walked to their table with two senior officers of the Asiatic Princess on either arm, conscious of the sharpened interest of every other woman in the room and human enough to enjoy it.

Matthew saw her seated and took his place next to her, greeting the others, politely fending off their inquiries about his prolonged absence deftly enough to offend no one. At the far end of the table, the captain nodded approvingly, and the two men exchanged slightly wry glances when a change of topic released Matthew. The implications fascinated Ruth, with its whisper of a hidden agenda, and she would have followed it through if Matthew hadn’t chosen to capture her attention with a question.

“You’re leaving us in Hong Kong?”

“Yes.” Ruth nodded.

“A pity.” He sounded genuine. “Have you enjoyed your cruise?”

Ruth hesitated. Her thoughts at the rail were too recent to be easily denied, but this man was weaving a spell around her, deliberately, she hoped. “Yes, I am.” She stuck to the exact truth, hoping he would notice.

“That’s good.” His eyes acknowledged her hesitation, but his smile rewarded her compromise. “We’ll do our best to make tonight special.” He made it a promise.

The stewards started serving their first course, and Ruth damned them for the interruption. She felt witty, exhilarated, and challenged. It was utterly crazy, something so far from her normal life as to be part of a fairytale, and she had no doubt as to the identity of Prince Charming in this tale. She even found herself wondering what it would be like when he kissed her, for it was that type of fairytale. Tony had spoken of a company rule barring public kissing between officers and passengers, but she couldn’t imagine it thwarting Matthew. He might be saddled with the need to set an example as a senior officer, but she suspected he’d find a way. She’d strayed into fairyland without the aid of the fabled green flash, and the heroes there were always gallants.

“Do you mind?” It was the ship’s photographer. “I don’t get many chances to catch this one relaxing.” He nodded towards Matthew. “The first time I’ve seen him in uniform this voyage.”

“I’ve told you a hundred million times not to exaggerate.” Matthew was smiling, but Ruth detected the whisper of a warning, a friendly one, but still a warning. “Ruth’s here to enjoy herself.”

“She won’t mind if I hang around and take happy snaps then.” Gary’s grin was mischievous. “Just move your chair a little, and I can get the both of you.”

Matthew’s wryly raised eyebrow received a half apologetic smile in reply, a piece of byplay confirming the two were friends. Not surprising, she supposed. She smiled at Gary and cooperated, her happiness encompassing his needs without strain.

They returned to the first course.

“When did you join the ship?”

“Melbourne.”

“You saw the start of the Sydney Hobart yacht race in Sydney.” He seemed amused, and his question, falling into a moment of silence at the table and overheard by others, triggered a flurry of conversation about the event.

Ruth, no longer the centre of his attention, remembered all too well the unexpected diversion to anchor at Bradley’s Head when the Asiatic Princess was leaving Sydney. It gave all the passengers a ringside seat to the Sydney-Hobart yacht race start. The spectacle forestalled any complaints about the unscheduled delay and introduced her to Tony Bates.

He’d joined her at the rail to explain the technicalities of the race start. He was a good-looking young man, resplendent in the white uniform of a ship’s officer, and Ruth accepted his attentions, even if his motives were transparent. She’d embarked for romance, and he could provide it. However, he misjudged her age. Fooled by the youthfulness of her face into thinking her less than twenty, he was too smug to modify his judgment from her manner. Caught by a flash of irritation triggered by one lapse, she’d put him in his place, and he’d reacted predictably, like a spoiled child. Driven by pride, perhaps, he’d persisted in his attentions, apparently staking a claim the other officers had respected—until now.

When someone asked Matthew if he’d seen the start of the race, he just smiled and shook his head. “Prior obligations.”

The captain rescued him with a change of subject, his intervention quick enough to raise a suspicion in Ruth’s mind that he didn’t want his chief engineer’s activities at the time discussed.

The conversation moved on, and Matthew turned back to her. “What does Ruth Lambert do when she’s not taking cruises?”

“I’m an associate in a stock broking firm in Melbourne.”

His nod gave due regard to the significance of her position, and she found herself discussing market trends with a knowledgeable companion. His take on some developments made her nod thoughtfully and make mental notes for when she returned to the office.

“You seem remarkably well-informed,” she said. “Have you ever thought of day-trading?”

“Don’t have time for the research, and constantly moving from one time zone to the next makes it difficult without an expensive communications setup.”

“You sound like you’ve thought of it.”

“We’d all like to be rich.” His shrug was minimal, and Ruth thought it was time to change the subject.

“Chelsea is the closest thing I know to being rich. We grew up together—went to university together. Her parents were well off, and marrying Glenn Caldwell did her financial position no harm.”

“I think I’ve heard Glenn Caldwell’s name before.” Matthew’s smile was a little mysterious.

“He’s the principal of his accounting firm. They have offices in most states now, and their head office is in Melbourne’s CBD, a block or two from the Exchange.”

“That’s probably it. You grew up with Chelsea?” The change of subject was effortless.

“Yes.” Ruth’s smile came naturally at the thought of her bubbly friend. “She considers it her goal in life to see me married too.”

“A feminist Jane Austen.” Matthew’s tone was dry.

“P-pardon…” Ruth stuttered, the reference obscure.

“She believes, ‘It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a young woman in possession of a successful career must be in want of a sperm donor.’” He’d adapted the opening of Pride and Prejudice to his purpose, an indication of how acutely he observed people and how cleverly he expressed it.

Ruth laughed, unconsciously nodding in agreement, but wondering how he would categorize her. She was too afraid to ask, for the good opinion of this witty, erudite, and wholly masculine engineer had become more important to her than anything else in the world.

The meal had finished, and the band began its opening bracket.

“Would you care to dance?” Matthew’s smile enhanced the offer, and she nodded, allowing him to draw back her chair and escort her to the floor.

When she stepped into his arms and they started, two things were apparent. Matthew had danced competitively, and his sense of rhythm was exact. She recognized the first from personal experience in her teens and the second from his slight pause before he led her into the foxtrot. She matched his lead, allowing him to guide her through the other dancers without interrupting their flow, surrendering to her own pleasure as the pressure of his hand in the small of her back molded their bodies together. It was years since she’d enjoyed this good a partner, and all the remembered moves came fresh to her mind.

“You are very good,” she said as the first number ended.

“I had little choice in the matter. My parents were a competition dance pair who enjoyed some success.”

His economy of words failed this time, for a sudden flash of memory had Ruth seeing the posters decorating the wall of her dance teacher’s studio.

“Linton and Marilyn Parker?” she asked.

Matthew gave her a sharp look and then nodded, leaving Ruth to complete the memory of them being killed with three other couples in a light plane crash as they hurried from the finals of one competition to the beginning of another. They’d been South Pacific Dance Champions for three years running. She bit her lower lip to prevent the spontaneous expression of condolence. Matthew was too complete in himself to invite sympathy.

The band resumed playing, allowing Ruth to escape into the dancing.

The small part of her mind, always acting as a detached observer, tried to pour cold water on her feelings, pointing out she was witnessing a polished professional performance. A Chief Engineer of a cruise liner would exhibit all the social graces or be replaced. Her effort was partially successful, until the end of the dance bracket halted them opposite one of the mirrored columns surrounding the dance floor, and she could see Matthew’s face without his knowledge.

He was looking down at her quizzically, as if discovering something completely unexpected, something he was not sure how to define. She unconsciously tightened her arms around him, bringing their embrace to a level of intimacy beyond dance partners, and she felt him harden in response, a wicked grin replacing the puzzlement.

When the MC chose the moment to announce the floorshow, Ruth damned him feelingly, reduced to following Matthew back to their table. Only the pressure of his hand in hers restrained her from dragging her feet like a spoiled child. The stand-up comedian of the floorshow spent some of the time lampooning individuals among the passengers and members of the crew, assisted by one of the show’s dancers and some simple props. Their dancing made Ruth and Matthew obvious targets, a mortarboard identifying her success at the trivia competition earlier in the voyage whilst Matthew was a robot taken out of his glass case to respond to the need to change a light globe. The mime was good enough no one doubted their identities. Ruth might have found the attention embarrassing, but with Matthew at her side, it was simply fun, even when the comedian produced a large oil can and came to their table, where he proceeded to oil Matthew’s joints to the accompaniment of loud squeaks and groans into the microphone.

Yet the incident on the dance floor wouldn’t be dismissed. Ruth’s mind kept looping back, quivers of excitement making it impossible to sit still. She ached to be dancing again, to feel his body against hers as a preliminary to the other pleasures the night might bring. She was determined to bed this man before the morning ended her cruise. It was odd. Even her wildest schoolgirl crushes had never been like this, and she was no longer naturally impulsive. Cursed by a face making her look still in her teens, she’d trained herself to second and third thoughts before acting, cultivating an air of deliberation and gravitas to impress her clients and colleagues. Tonight it had deserted her.

She glanced at her watch. She’d known Matthew less than four hours.

“These things normally continue until well after midnight.” He misinterpreted her interest in the time.

“What will happen after that?” Her eyes challenged him, mischievously testing his mettle.

He understood. “Even Cinderella went to bed after the ball,” he offered quietly, his gaze steady on her face.

“Where,” she breathed, aware she’d stepped willingly to the edge of a chasm.

“My cabin has a double bed.”

“How convenient.” She was smiling, and he returned it.

The chasm disappeared, replaced by a beautiful garden, bright with exotic blooms and redolent with their scent. Ruth knew how this night would end. Her cruise had become the adventure she sought.

“If you were a cat, there’d be cream on your whiskers right now.” His eyes warmed as she deliberately licked the corners of her mouth.

The floorshow ended, and they returned to the dance floor, Ruth reveling in the intimacy as the band played slow, romantic music to match the mood of the voyage’s final night. She knew this was just a prelude by the gentle play of his fingers on the bared vertebrae of her spine. Company policy might forbid him kissing her publicly but was no bar to his subtlety, and he was exploiting his opportunities. She cooperated wholeheartedly, finding her own ways to respond “accidentally,” and Matthew’s smile grew wicked.

Midnight was less than an hour away when the captain interrupted them on the dance floor. “You’ll pardon me if I cut in,” he said. “There’s a phone call my chief engineer must take.”

She felt the tension come into Matthew’s body, but he responded calmly, shrugging apologetically. “It looks like those prior obligations have reasserted themselves,” he said. “Will you excuse me?”

Ruth nodded and reluctantly allowed him out of her arms, watching him until he disappeared into the telephone lobby before she stepped into the captain’s arms to complete the dance.

He was every inch the public relations image of a ship’s master. Silvery grey hair crowned a tanned face, remarkably unlined for his fifty-plus years, and his manners were perfect. She could imagine him standing resolutely on the ship’s bridge as it slipped beneath the waves in the finest maritime tradition of bravery. He danced well, chatting about the voyage until he sensed she was only half listening to him, her mind on the man who’d just left.

“Matthew is the finest chief engineer it has been my privilege to know,” he said, acknowledging her distraction. “It’s a great pity this is his last voyage.”

As he’d intended, his words captured Ruth’s attention.

“What do you mean?”

“He’s moving on to bigger things. One of the multi-national oil companies, as some sort of technical superintendent, I believe.”

This was the extent of his knowledge, for Ruth’s persistent questioning added nothing beyond a probable destination of North America before the bracket of music ended, and the captain escorted her back to the table.

Ruth sat twiddling with her drink as time became a paradox of endless minutes carrying her inexorably to the evening ending before Matthew could return. Her eyes strayed from the saloon door only to check the time or to answer distractedly the remarks of her tablemates. Even when Gary, the photographer, slipped into Matthew’s chair to chat, she responded with only half her mind.

It was just short of midnight when Matthew returned. “Sorry about that,” he said as he reached the table. “My mistress was getting a bit lonely and wanted some ego stroking.”

“I’d have thought she’d seen enough of you this voyage,” Gary interrupted before Ruth could respond.

“Her temperament is a little uncertain at the moment, and she is, after all, a very powerful lady.” Matthew didn’t look at him.

“She doesn’t appreciate you becoming distracted. You are her personal knight-errant, sans peur et sans reproche.” Gary was grinning.

“Most mistresses are quite demanding. It’s the nature of the beast.” Ruth was searching for information, momentarily puzzled by the description of selfless chivalry credited to Eleanor of Acquitane. It seemed without relevance, but these two were friends, and she conceded them some leeway. “Their situation gives them power.”

“Forty-five thousand shaft horsepower can make your demands quite urgent,” Gary agreed blandly.

Everything fell into place. The mistress was the Asiatic Princess. A problem in the engine room had called Matthew away, and Gary’s comments inferred it was ongoing. Company policy would not allow it to become public, hence the elliptical references the pair were using. It explained the prior obligations keeping Matthew away from his social duties. She guessed the delay in Sydney was part of the same problem. If it were still ongoing, his departure from the dance floor was explained.

The final set of numbers for the evening allowed Ruth to escape the others and have Matthew to herself once more on the dance floor, achingly aware the evening was moving towards its promised climax. The music was slow and dreamy, giving her the excuse to mold herself against him and feel his reaction grow insistent. She closed her eyes and nestled her head against his shoulder, a small, secret smile signaling her satisfaction.

The situation was perfect. She was dancing with the best-looking man in the room who, very shortly, would provide the perfect ending to her cruise. More, the unguarded look she’d seen in his eyes earlier reflected her own feelings that this was more than a shipboard romance. In taking a chance to get away from the strictures of Andrew McLeod’s, she’d stumbled upon something to change her life.

It frightened her a little. This wasn’t what she’d intended. There’d been one affair already. A fumbling unsatisfactory thing with Jeremy at the university, and she’d come out of it badly. This felt nothing like it, and vague fears troubled her mind. She took positive action to carry her beyond their reach, turning her head to nibble gently on the lobe of Matthew’s ear.

He reacted by tightening his embrace, drawing a shuddering breath of delight from Ruth as she moved luxuriously within the circle of his arm to apply a little distraction of her own to the hard evidence of his arousal. His low chuckle was a promise she intended to make him keep.

The singing of “Auld Lang Syne” completed the evening, and Ruth happily followed Matthew through the series of passageways to his cabin. There, she moved into his arms with certainty and surrendered completely to the surge of her own feelings, matching Matthew’s advances with her own, allowing no doubt this was mutual. Jeremy had found her openness disconcerting, but not Matthew. He actually growled with pleasure, the sound seeming to come from deep within his chest so that she felt its rumble transmitted into her own breast by the closeness of their embrace.

Ruth thrust herself against him, her back arching to increase the contact of their bodies, trying to fuse them into one as her flesh clamored for his. Her hunger startled Ruth, and for just a fleeting moment, she wondered at its intensity. Then Matthew discovered the fastenings at the top of the zipper in the small of her back and slipped them free. The tight-waisted dress fell open to the slither of the zipper, and the slide of his hand down her buttocks left no room for coherent thought as her purr of pleasure matched his.

Undressing became a mutual exploration, the removal of each garment exposing new territory to questing fingers and hungry lips. Ruth had never felt so intensely before, every inch of her skin now so alive it hovered on the edge of pain wherever Matthew’s lips touched. He kissed her closed eyelids, the hinge of her jaw, the hollow at the base of her throat.

Her eyelids had drooped to shut out all external distraction. Now they flew open, and she looked directly into his eyes, searching for proof this had become greater than a one-night stand. She knew it beyond doubt. It must be impossible for Matthew not to feel the same. Yet she sensed a curious reluctance in him, as if he sought to reassure himself she understood where their actions were leading.

As if he were solely responsible for their future...

Perhaps it was this sense of responsibility that made him extend their love play beyond the perfect point, so it was Ruth who led the way to the double bed, taking Matthew’s hand so he trailed her by half a step. Reaching it, she turned to face him again and drew him to her so she could reassure him of her commitment.

“I want this, Matthew. I want everything that goes with it.” She spoke clearly so there could be no misunderstanding. “I have no doubts.”

The transition from standing to the bed separated them briefly, but they came together again between the crisply starched sheets, and a long kiss eased aside the final barrier to their consummation. Ruth shifted within their embrace to accommodate the hard evidence of his arousal and opened herself to him…only to have him freeze as the urgent buzz of the telephone at the bedside interrupted them.

He muttered angrily as he reached across her for the handset. “Chief,” he barked into the mouthpiece.

Ruth could hear the tinny sounds of the reply without being able to make out the words, just their urgent tone.

“Call the electrician, advise the bridge and reduce the revs to half speed. I’ll be there as soon as I can,” he said, breaking the connection and rolling out of the bed almost in the same movement.

“I’m sorry, Ruth. My prior obligations have reasserted themselves.” He was already halfway into a pair of white overalls she had not noticed hanging by the bed. “I don’t know how long this will take, but it is serious. I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t.”

“Would you like me to wait here,” Ruth asked, fighting down her body’s scream of rage at the interruption.

“Yes, please,” he said with a grin. “I’d like it very much. It will give me a powerful reason to deal with this as quickly as I can.”

“Can I have a kiss before you leave?”

It was a hurried, unsatisfactory effort. His mind was far ahead of his body, impatient to begin dealing with the problem in the engine room, and Ruth regretted her impulse.

He’d just left the cabin when the telephone buzzed again, and Ruth picked it up without thought.

“Chief?”

She recognized the captain’s voice. “He’s just left,” she explained.

“Thank you. I will call him in the engine room.” The captain’s response was curt, suggesting the problem was serious enough to negate his normal courtesy or any interest he might have had in the breach of company policy, and he broke the connection without further comment.

Ruth replaced the handset and lay back in the bed, gnawing at her bottom lip as she fought to calm her ragged breathing, aware it would take very little to trigger tears of frustration. Intellectually, she could appreciate Matthew’s dilemma and knew he had no choice, but her body raged against the injustice of it all, and she forced herself to lie completely still, her hands rigidly at her sides, lest she surrender to her need.

As an antidote, and to ensure she didn’t fall asleep before Matthew returned, she rose from the bed and examined her surroundings. A bank of instruments mounted on the wall where Mathew could see them from the bed caught her attention. Most of the dials and gauges meant nothing to her, but the largest showed RPM, and she guessed this was the propeller shaft revolutions per minute. The needle was wavering a little as it fell slowly away from the green mark indicating full speed. It was unlikely Matthew would return until he restored this to its normal condition, so she would know when he was coming.

A lifetime of neatness made her gather her clothes and fold them neatly on the settee, arranging them with the underwear hidden from sight. Satisfied, she did the same for Matthew’s uniform, obtaining an odd thrill from so domestic a chore as if drawing significance from the proximity of the two piles of clothing on the settee.

Curiosity prompted her to examine the rest of his suite of cabins, to increase her knowledge by examining his personal space. The furnishings were luxurious, but the space felt austere. There was little hint of his personality beyond the small collection of books on a shelf above the settee. Leather-bound, small print on ultra thin paper, they were all classics perfect for a traveling man. Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, Caesar’s Campaigns in Gaul and two of Fenimore Cooper’s frontier books caught her eye among others she didn’t recognize. They all appeared well used.

It was disappointing. She wanted so much more.

Beyond an original painting of an old-fashioned passenger liner, there were no photos, but a door on the farther side of the day cabin beckoned, and she crossed the room to investigate. It was a medium-sized office with a long desk along the inner wall. Here she could sense Matthew clearly. An opened blueprint held down by two manuals, a page of calculations, and an empty coffee cup made her feel like he’d just risen to attend a task and would be back any moment. Still no personal photos, but this was clearly a place he used frequently. It had a lived-in air.

She stood, absorbing the feel of him, until a shiver reminded her she was naked.

The air conditioning left her with two alternatives. Get dressed or return to the bed. The former had the feel of defeat, so she returned to the bed.

The tachometer recorded Matthew’s lack of success, and she lay, trying to will the needle around the dial so he could come to her. She’d had the perfect appetizer; now she wanted the feast.

An hour later, it was still oscillating gently at the halfway mark when Ruth lost her battle to stay awake, her eyelids drooping once too often before her body relaxed completely, her long hair covering the pillow in a broad red fan.

Matthew found her like this several hours later and stood at the side of the bed admiring the beauty of the scene. His overalls were now white only in patches and soaked with sweat. He glanced at the instruments on the wall, noting the steady climb of the rpm with satisfaction before slipping out of his overalls and disappearing into the adjacent bathroom to shower.

When he returned, a towel around his waist and his hair still damp, he paused again before sighing regretfully and donning fresh overalls. He stopped long enough to pen a quick note on a page torn from his notebook. Once it was complete, he stood with it in his hand for a moment, as if deciding on a position where she couldn’t miss it when she woke. He noted Ruth’s clothing on the settee and tucked the note into the pile. He bent to gently kiss her sleeping lips and left the cabin.

As if half sensing his departure, Ruth stirred, reaching out across the empty space beside her and rolling so that she lay on her side with her arm stretched out, the fan of her hair now half concealing her face.

* * * *

“Excuse, please,” the strange voice said, and then repeated itself. “Excuse, please.”

Ruth woke reluctantly, her mind confused by the strangeness of her surroundings.

“Tea or coffee, Missie,” the unfamiliar voice persisted.

Ruth opened her eyes. The bright daylight streaming in through the portholes proved she’d slept. She rolled over to face the tall Chinese man standing at the bedside, his uniform identifying him as a senior steward.

“Tea, please. White and one sugar.”

“Toast?”

She nodded, hoping to satisfy him quickly so he would leave, for her situation embarrassed her, even if he seemed to be accustomed to waking strange young women in the chief engineer’s bed.

“Very good.” His English improved. “I’ve put a dressing gown at the end of the bed for you. I’ll serve the tea and toast in the day cabin and get a change of clothes for you from your steward. He’ll have your cases ready for you to pack. You’re disembarking in three hours. Would you like me to take these to him?” He indicated the pile of clothes on the settee. “It might be less embarrassing.”

Ruth nodded her acceptance, too embarrassed to disagree, and he withdrew, taking her clothes and leaving her to absorb the situation.

They’d arrived in Hong Kong. Raising herself in the bed, something she hadn’t dared to do in the steward’s presence, she could see the shape of the Peak dominating the skyline, and a glance at the clock showed that the arrival was less than an hour late, so Matthew must have dealt with the problem before it caused a significant delay. Ruth rose from the bed and wrapped the bright green silk happy coat, with its embroidered dragon, around her and stood at the window until the sound of the steward in the dayroom told her he’d returned. He anticipated her precisely and entered with a hanger of clothes in his hand.

“The chief engineer…” Ruth asked.

“…is in the engine room, as always.”

“We don’t seem to have lost much time in getting here.”

“The chief wound her up to make up some time. You could feel the vibration on the lower decks during the last three hours.”

The steward seemed completely relaxed. The situation held no novelty to him. It was obvious he had handled similar ones in the past, and she was providing no surprises. The fact didn’t make her feel any better, but she could think of no way to take control of the situation.

She sipped at her tea and took a small bite of the toast. “I’d better get dressed.”

“A good idea. I’ll leave you to it. There’s a fresh towel in the bathroom.”

“Thank you.”

This was really sparkling dialogue, Ruth thought, and then surrendered to an impulse.

“You do this very well. I suppose you’ve had a lot of practice.”

“Not with this chief. When he came, the ship was a mess, breakdowns every second day. He’s nursed it for months, and we’re going into dry dock for a major overhaul when we reach Japan. The last chief paid too much attention to his social duties, so they sent this one to keep us going.” There was a certain controlled admiration in his voice, as if he disapproved of engineers generally, but liked this individual example of the breed.

Ruth tried hard to hide her interest, but the steward’s knowing eyes told her she’d failed. She escaped into the bedroom to avoid further conversation. There, she showered and dressed very thoughtfully.

The steward was waiting when she returned. “I’ll take you to the service lift,” he said. “It comes out near your cabin.”

She followed his lead and reached her cabin, where she found her suitcases open on the settee and the clothes she had worn last night arranged neatly on the bed. Her steward was just leaving, and Ruth took the opportunity to tip him, being more generous than she might have been had she not met Matthew. He responded graciously and left her to her packing.

Her fingers lingered on the green silk of the cocktail dress. She would never wear it again without the memory of last night. Impulsively, she lifted the bodice to her face and breathed deeply, searching unsuccessfully for some trace of Matthew in the fabric. His duties would occupy him exclusively until the Asiatic Princess sailed, probably as soon as the last passengers disembarked in an attempt to recover lost time. If she wanted their relationship to continue, it was up to her. After this voyage, he’d be on the other side of the world.

She completed her packing without discovering any avenue to contact Matthew beyond writing him a note, which seemed less than satisfactory.

The steward returned for her luggage and was too distracted to be of much use, so Ruth made her way to the embarkation deck and sat down in the lounge to write the most difficult letter of her life. How could she convince Matthew they deserved more than a brief shipboard romance when so little had really happened between them? Yet this made it essential. He’d raised such expectations; she would never be satisfied until he fulfilled them, even if she couldn’t advance this as a reason.

It took her longer than expected and required four drafts before the contents satisfied her. The PA had already called for disembarking passengers to join the launch at the foot of the gangway, but she read it twice before she sealed it in an envelope and considered how to deliver it to Matthew. The purser’s office seemed an obvious choice, but it was two decks down, and the PA was now warning this was the last call. She was still standing undecided when Tony Bates appeared.

“Don’t you want to leave us? The launch is waiting for you.”

Ruth considered him. He wasn’t her ideal messenger, but she couldn’t imagine him destroying a letter to Matthew, no matter what his personal feelings might be.

“I have a letter for Matthew. Will you see he gets it?”

“Of course.” His tone was more offhand than she liked, but there was little choice. “Just as long as you go down to the launch immediately. The others are getting restless.”

She gave him the envelope, and he thrust it into the side pocket of his jacket and hurried her to the gangway, escorting her down to the launch. The last she saw of him was his figure disappearing up the gangway as the launch turned away from the ship towards Kowloon.

Hong Kong, Bangkok, and Singapore seemed to pass slowly in a train of tours and shopping when all Ruth really wanted was to return home and wait for Matthew’s response to her letter.

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