The Way He Moves. Marcia King-Gamble
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fed, and he enjoyed manipulating them and seeing their reactions. It was all about Sal—no one else mattered. How he’d managed to talk his way into a job as a dance escort was anyone’s guess. The man was no Fred Astaire.
Tracy’s anxiety built as the phone continued to ring. She was about to hang up when Sal’s gruff voice finally came on the line.
“Prego!”
“Sal, it’s Tracy.”
“What’s taken you so long to get back to me?”
“I was waiting for my friend at the Guest Relations desk to call. An Argentinean woman by the name of Serena d’Andrea found the pendant. She’s in a suite on Zeus. She’s a member of the Rhythm Dancers group and she’ll be attending the Bon Voyage party.”
“Grazie,” Sal snorted. “I’ll be attending that party, too, and I’ll be sure to become acquainted with the d’Andrea woman. I’ll pretend to be interested in her, regardless of whether she’s a dog or not.” Another raucous laugh followed. “I’ll just have to fantasize that she’s a supermodel, and do whatever it takes to get my hands on that pendant.”
What a pig he was. She must have been out of her mind to have slept with him, much less married the man.
“How is Franco, Sal? When will you give him back to me?”
An ugly snort followed, and another derisive chuckle.
“When you deliver on your promises, and I have that pendant in my hot little hands, then maybe you’ll get your son back.”
“But Sal that’s not what we agreed…”
“But Sal, nothing. You’ve had ample opportunity to get me that pendant, and you’ve botched each and every attempt. That weasel Giorgio managed to get himself arrested without paying my gambling debt. Now that pendant is mine. Excuse me. I must go and get ready for the party.”
“And I have dance rehearsal,” Tracy said, smothering a sob.
She laid the receiver down and swiped at her eye. What more did Sal expect of her? She was feeding him information as soon as she got it. And in exchange he had promised to give her back her son. Their son, though you would never guess it from his actions.
Her child was the one person who loved her unconditionally. She would do just about anything to hold him in her arms again.
She had to help Sal get that pendant. She had to.
CHAPTER TWO
ON BACCHUS DECK, the five hundred plus passengers who’d signed up for the Rhythm Dancers charter were packed into La Belle Epoque. When Serena and Pia entered the dance club, people were milling around the champagne bar sipping colorful drinks.
The information in the pamphlet indicated that the group was a diverse one, coming from different dance clubs around the world. Many passengers had signed up for the chance to rub shoulders with the pros and take lessons from the best. The more confident dancers were already out on the floor executing complicated twist and turns. So much for non-competitive dancing.
The Bon Voyage party had been touted as the ultimate ice breaker: an opportunity for dancers to mingle and get to know each other. From the looks of things, it was shaping up to be a very competitive event, with dancers using the occasion to showcase themselves. Since it was standing room only, Serena and Pia found a spot off to the side with a decent view of the floor.
“I’m going to have to try my best not to analyze some of these people,’ Pia said, “I’ll get us drinks. If you’re not here when I get back I’ll find you.” With that she hurried off.
Serena was left to people watch. She’d come aboard hoping to find a dance partner, someone who was looking to have fun with no strings attached. She was determined the next fourteen days were going to be divided between writing and working on her rhythm dancing. She owed it to her twin, Selena, to write that book, and she planned on following through.
Pia soon came hurrying back with a tall, fair-skinned ship’s officer in tow. He carried their drinks.
“This is Andreas Zonis,” she announced, gesturing to the officer to hand Serena her glass.
Serena accepted the drink and shook the man’s hand. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, but Andreas, clearly interested in Pia, shifted his attention back to her friend.
Feeling like a third wheel, Serena cast another glance around the crowded room. Her eyes lingered on a tall, dark-haired man in pressed jeans, and a short-sleeved linen shirt tucked neatly in his pants. He had broad shoulders and a narrow waist. Serena’s gaze traveled the length of him, stopping at his feet. He wore silver-tipped leather boots with a thick heel that added to his considerable height.
Painful memories came flooding back, so much so that she couldn’t help giving him a second look. He was too far away to get a close-up of his face, but he reminded her of the man she’d met in Buenos Aires, the man who’d broken her heart.
With a concentrated effort she tried to focus on the here and now. It had been six months since she’d last laid eyes on Marc LeClair and she should be over him by now. But how did you forget a man who’d seemed perfect for you—a man who’d made you laugh so hard your sides ached. Marc, of the jet-black wavy hair, and to die-for blue eyes. She’d fallen hard and fast, and moving on wasn’t easy.
Serena could still hear his raspy voice whispering endearments in her ear. When she closed her eyes, his unique spicy scent tickled her nostrils. With vivid clarity she remembered how he’d held her, loved her.
“Serena, you are a dream come true,” he’d said. “The woman I’ve been waiting for.”
Lines. All of it. And she’d bought them hook, line and sinker, convincing herself there was a future for them. She’d said those three little words I love you. Words she’d never said to another soul. And that was the beginning of the end, she suspected, because after that he’d disappeared.
The dark-haired man was laughing at something the woman next to him said. Serena wasn’t close enough to hear him, but Marc’s laughter had been distinctive and hardy, and this man certainly looked as if he was enjoying himself.
The resemblance was truly uncanny, although she’d never seen Marc dressed so casually or appear so relaxed. Marc LeClair had been polished and put together, and he’d said he had a twin. Serena wondered if this could be the twin brother.
His being a twin was another reason she’d been drawn to him. Twins had a special bond, an intuitive understanding of each other. She and Selena had been able to communicate without saying a word. And she and Marc shared a love of ballroom dancing and old movies, the kind where people wore elegant clothing and knew how to foxtrot.
In an especially intimate moment, Serena had shared with Marc the dark times after her sister’s equestrian accident when she could not get out of bed. Serena had been depressed and one step away from ending it all. It had been a painful heartbreaking experience. If she hadn’t had Pia to lean on she would probably not have made it through. It was Pia who’d been there to help her through that awful time after Marc dumped her, too.
“Dios mío!” Serena hissed, elbowing her friend in the gut and sloshing liquid from their glasses. “It is him.”
“Him who?” Pia answered distractedly, her attention still focused on the handsome cruise ship officer.
The attractive redhead was now whispering something in the look-a-like Marc’s ear. Her plunging neckline threatened to spill her considerable assets, and using those assets to her advantage, she brushed her breasts against the man’s arm.
Serena couldn’t help but gape. How could two people possibly look so much alike? On the one hand she hoped it wasn’t him. He was the last person she wanted to run into on her vacation. She was still embarrassed and more than a little angry at the manner in which their brief relationship had ended. She’d followed her heart and given in to passion, ending