Dangerous Waters Trilogy, Book 1: Change of Plans by Dee Lloyd

The woman leaned back in the black leather chair and stared unseeingly past the uncluttered Plexiglas desktop at the bleak winter scene outside the office window. Oblique lines of wet snow and freezing rain were being driven across the pane, and the thin light of a March afternoon was fading fast.

Eventually, all things came to an end. Her youth, her hopes of having a husband and her own babies, even of growing old with the only man she had ever loved, were gone. A bitter smile curled her lip and her black eyes narrowed. Her self-centered lover was sure that he could have it all. He was confident she'd be content with the scraps of his affection; that she'd tolerate his marriage of convenience and still spend all her waking hours assuring his success and even, when he could find the time, welcome him to her bed.

Underestimating her was going to cost him. She would see that his dreams, too, went up in smoke. She had already arranged to have the big deal for the money he needed for his campaign to fall through. She could hardly wait to see the dismay on his arrogant face when it happened. And her cousin had promised to eliminate that pale, sexless woman her treacherous lover planned to marry. He would never take her to his bed.

She looked at her watch. Only a few hours now before her plans were set in motion. Within the week, he would pay for taking her years of devotion lightly.

Mike's eyes wandered dispassionately over yet another woman's body. There were dozens of them, alone or in pairs, all bright-eyed and eager. Every one of them seemed more than ready to leave the frigid temperatures that gripped the Lower Great Lakes area for a blast of sunshine and fun. One tall, dark-eyed woman of about his own age met his gaze with a challenging smile and an appreciative scrutiny of her own.

Too aggressive, he decided, a little taken aback by her frank interest in the lower part of his anatomy. Have to make sure I'm the predator here.

He was having trouble believing that he, Mike Garson, senior partner of Garson Construction International, was leaning against a concrete pillar, blatantly girl-watching like a lout in a fifties' movie. All he needed was a Fedora tilted down over his eyes and a cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

From his vantage point near the entrance to the departure lounges, he had a good view of the passengers lined up to go through airport security. Many of them would probably be heading for the charter flight that connected with the MS Theseus. If the right ones were taking it, the cruise mightn't be a total washout. He hadn't expected so many of the women traveling alone to be young and attractive. So far, two or three of them had been well worth his critical appraisal.

Of course, no one else was in a class with the blonde being kissed good-bye by the smooth article in the gray suit. She had the cool Scandinavian look that had always intrigued him. Her shoulder-length hair was the color of the palest yellow rose, her back slender and her bottom curved and tempting.

Mike was getting a kind of vicious satisfaction from this cold-blooded search for an acceptable woman. He continued to study every woman who passed, but his eyes kept returning to the blonde. Gray Suit was going a little overboard on the kiss, but he was keeping his hands discreetly above the waist. Mike, however, could feel his own palms itching to cup the round firm flesh discreetly covered by well-tailored, pale green trousers.

Whoa, Mike! An angry man could too easily get caught up in this role. Trying to steal someone else's woman had never been part of his plan. All he wanted was to salvage his vacation, and some of his pride. He felt a twinge of distaste at the self-centered male on the prowl he had decided to become.

Gray Suit was still kissing her! The woman evidently was beginning to find it tedious. He watched her open one startling turquoise eye to peek at her watch. Another insincere blonde. This one had Gray Suit fooled. The poor sap was probably convinced she cared about him. She had the grace to blush when she realized Mike had caught her checking the time, but he recognized her type.

There was no danger of emotional involvement with this woman. If she was taking the cruise, and if she wasn't meeting another man on the ship, she might fill the bill, not to mention the empty half of the double bed in his stateroom. His pulse quickened at the thought. Yes, it was a long shot, but if he played his cards right, there was a chance he could become intimately acquainted with that luscious body. And that was definitely something to look forward to.

At the moment, all Sara Tolberg was looking forward to was distance from Stephen. She was beyond mere annoyance at him. In spite of the fact she had booked an airport limousine, he had insisted on driving her in from Rochester at four o'clock this morning. And now he was acting as if they were lovers parting. It wasn't that she found his embrace repulsive; she simply wasn't enjoying it. Didn't he care she wasn't kissing him back? She tried to move away, but he pulled her firmly back to him.

She would never have tolerated this display from any other man. However, since the senator's health had forced his retirement, Stephen and his fledgling political career had been very important to her father, and, of course, to her. Stephen knew very well that, although she was seething, she'd never make a scene. Short of hitting him or kneeing him in the groin, she didn't know how to make him end his one-sided kiss.

She hadn't agreed to his marriage proposal, but he seemed to think that simply stating his intentions gave him some sort of rights over her. Of course, her father had led him to believe it was just a matter of time before she came to her senses.

She managed to pull away from him and take a deep breath.

"Good-bye, Stephen," she said, patting his cheek. "You can tell the senator you got me safely to the plane."

"I will. Is there anything else I can do for you, my sweet?"

"No, nothing," she said, a little too vehemently. She lightened her reply with a laugh. After all, she reminded herself, she was fond of him. "You even provided more than my quota of kisses for the next two weeks," she added, dryly.

Stephen joined in her laughter, but though his lips smiled and his laugh lines crinkled, there was little amusement in his blue eyes.

"That was my intention," he said.

A few feet away, Mike wondered if maybe he'd heard a trace of relief in the blonde's laugh when she finally ended the kiss with some sort of quip that made Gray Suit smile. She looked more approachable when she laughed.

As she was disengaging herself from Gray Suit's arms, a short, gray-haired man in a three-piece suit with a folded Wall Street Journal tucked under his arm walked briskly past them. Without a hesitation in his step, he stooped slightly, then continued on his way with the blonde's briefcase in his hand.

It took Mike a full second for the theft to register and for him to shout, "Hey! Put that down."

It took even less time to get his body in motion. He was already in full flight when he heard the blonde cry, "Stop him."

The gray-haired thief must be younger than he looked. He sure could run and, from the way he was dodging around, he seemed to know the airport. However, Mike's deck shoes had a better grip on the tile floor than the thief's leather soles and his speed was fuelled by a completely inexplicable rage at the thief for choosing the intriguing blonde as his victim. Mike had almost caught up to him when his quarry suddenly turned a corner and headed towards a door marked "Airport Personnel Only."

Mike became aware someone else had joined in the pursuit.

"Stop him!" the man who was pounding along a few feet behind him shouted.

The gray-haired man spurted towards the door. Mike put on a burst of speed and was ready to tackle him when the thief tossed his folded newspaper at Mike's face.

Mike knocked it aside easily, but the unexpected move almost cost him his momentum. He cursed, then launched himself at the man just as he was yanking the door open. They crashed to the floor together and the briefcase went flying. Mike immobilized the smaller man easily with the sheer force of his weight and wrenched his arm up between his shoulder blades.

At that moment, the uniformed airport security officer overtook them, still speaking on his cordless telephone.

"Yes, we've got him. We're at the top of the northeast stairs," he panted, replacing the receiver on the hook at his belt.

"Thanks." He mopped his brow. "The lady screamed and you were already chasing this guy before I was sure what was happening. Man, you took off like a rocket."

Mike was getting to his feet, still holding the thief in an armlock, when two large men in airport uniforms emerged from the stairway. Relinquishing his prisoner to them, he brushed the dust off the knees of his pants.

The garrulous security man who had followed Mike in the chase was still talking. "I figure he's part of the gang that's been working the terminal for two weeks now. It's a pretty good bet people will keep their valuables in their carry-ons.

"This is the first break we've had. He looks a bit older than the descriptions we have, but the technique's the same. They've taken at least thirty pieces of hand luggage that we know of, but this is the first one we've caught in the act." He stopped to take a breath. "What time's your flight?"

"Eight o'clock."

"That's good. It won't take more than a few minutes for you to give us a statement. Don't worry. You'll make your flight," he assured Mike as his associates snapped handcuffs on the wrists of the silent, middle-aged man.

Under closer scrutiny, he looked more like a disgruntled banker than a luggage thief. The security man retrieved the briefcase from its resting place against the wall and checked the tag.

"Smart woman. She put the flight number on it. We'll see that she gets her bag on the plane."

Mike leaned closer to read the tag. The blonde was on his flight. Great! Things were looking up. But, first, he had to go and make his statement. He'd learned many countries ago that arguing with minor officials only delayed proceedings. Resigned to the inevitable, he followed the security officer to a nearby airport office, where he identified the stubbornly silent thief and dictated a brief statement.

As he left the office, Mike shook his head at his impetuous action. He had completely lost his cool. Jim Greco would never believe that "good, old let's-go-over-that-again Mike" had gone tearing off after a thief without a moment's hesitation.

His childhood buddy had played on Mike's patriotism a few times to get him to do an unofficial errand here and there for the low-profile government agency that he worked for. Jim always found Mike's caution and meticulous planning for those missions amusing.

Why on earth had he gone chasing after the blonde's briefcase? Was he adding grandstanding to his new playboy act? He was beginning to wonder if it was really preferable to being understanding and infinitely usable. He set his jaw. He was going to go through with it. No woman was ever again going to walk all over Mike Garson.

The boarding had not begun yet when he entered the departure lounge. He stood just inside the door and scanned the crowd for S. Tolberg. That's how the discreet little tag on her briefcase had identified her. She had even attached one of the bright blue MS Theseus tags that informed him her cabin was on Apollo Deck, the same deck as his own. Perfect.

A small group of first class passengers was called for boarding and began filing out of the lounge. S. Tolberg was not among them. Then he spotted her. There was nothing flamboyant about her trim pale green jacket and slacks, but she drew his eye as if she had a spotlight trained on her. She was sitting quietly by the huge windows that looked out on the east-west airstrip. She had a sketchbook on her lap and was rapidly sketching a little boy, who was seated opposite her beside his dozing mother. So, she was an artist.

The old Mike had always avoided artistic types--thought they might be too emotional and quirky for his tastes. Maybe it was time for a change of pace. Besides, S. Tolberg didn't look either emotional or quirky. She seemed remarkably cool and self-possessed for a woman who had just been robbed.

Her briefcase was already on the seat beside her. Spotting the theft had been a stroke of luck. It gave him a good excuse to approach her.

His mouth twisted in an ironic smile. Another blonde. This one was better looking than Angela, though. Her hair was longer and paler, and her figure was definitely trimmer, but she appeared to have the same talent for feigning passion as his ex-fiancée. That poor guy who'd been kissing her certainly hadn't received her full attention. She'd flushed guiltily when he'd caught her checking the time. Was she hurrying to another lover? He realized with a shock how disappointed he'd be if she was.

When the airline representative announced the boarding of the center section of the aircraft, S. Tolberg stood up. Even though Mike's seat was in the same section, he decided to wait until after she had boarded to get into line.

When she turned to pick up her briefcase, her loose blouse tightened momentarily over breasts that were at least as well-formed as her shapely derrière. He felt a slight, localized surge of heat at the possibility of getting close to her. What did he care if she had no more depth than a glossy photograph? If she was available, she might suit him very well.

He ignored the nudging of his conscience. His new attitude was totally justified, he told himself as he took his place at the end of the line. What had his considerate treatment of women ever earned him?

He'd never had any trouble attracting women, but he had been intimate with very few. He had chosen his chères amies carefully and had gone out of his way to avoid misleading them. He had made sure each of those cherished friends had understood their romance would last only until he moved on to the next job in a few months. His recent experience with Angela had certainly opened his eyes. Those former lovers had probably been amused at his naive concern about their feelings.