Out of Mind

Chapter 9

Caroline watched numbers light up inside the elevator.

There was time to do this.

She was too excited to sleep anyway, even if it was possible with all the noise in the street outside the hotel. She had intended to explore, but Joan’s invitation to a little party in the top-floor suite sounded like the kind of exotic thing Caroline had finally escaped from Idaho to find.

It wasn’t even midnight. The ship didn’t leave until early tomorrow evening—hours and hours from now. Why not meet some of the other singles cruising to the Caribbean with her? That way she would already have people she knew when she got on board.

After the ship returned to New Orleans, she could hang around and see the city, unless she had met someone who gave her a reason to move on quickly, and a place to move on to.

Take it as it comes. Remember what you told yourself: “This is the first day of the rest of your life.”

The hotel was old. Everything in the French Quarter was old, and as strangely foreign as the books said it would be. Foreign, thrilling and dangerous, or so it felt.

The elevator opened at one end of a short hall. Facing her, double doors stood slightly open and the kind of singsong, upbeat music she had heard coming from bars in the area escaped the suite where she was headed.

This wasn’t like her, going to parties late at night with people she had never met.

Caroline gave a nervous giggle. Going to any parties at all was unlike her, but she was ready to change all that. Her high-heeled sandals caught at the dark red carpet and she wobbled a bit as she walked. The shoes made her legs look good! Confidence was a big part of the new, adventurous Caroline.

“This is the first day of the rest of your life.”

Fiddle music, that’s what it sounded like. And she didn’t understand the singers’ language, but thought it could be French. Her tummy jumped around and she took a big breath.

Glass clinked inside the room. She tapped one of the doors and it swung a little wider open.

A big room with more of the red carpet. Heavy gold drapes were closed over windows on the far side, small couches stood in two groups separated by a long table holding lots of bottles and glasses—and some plates of food. Some of the glasses had been used and the food had been picked over.

The place was empty.

This was the real story of her life. She was too late; the party was over.

Caroline trailed past the table. A glass of wine would be nice, maybe two glasses, or more. She crossed one arm over her middle and lifted an open bottle to look at the label. Not that the label mattered—white wine, she liked that best.

“Hey, where did you come from?” a man said. “Let me pour some of that for you.”

Startled, Caroline saw him come into the room and shut the doors behind him. The thud in her chest felt like a punch. All the air rushed out.

He was fantastic. Flamboyant with smooth, foreign flare.

“I didn’t hear anyone arrive,” he said, smiling at her.

She panicked and put the bottle down. “I’m in the wrong place,” she said. “Excuse me.”

“No, no.” He stepped in her path when she started toward the exit. “If you’re on the cruise, you’re in the right place. People have been stopping by all evening. You just happened to catch a lull. A rather long lull. Welcome. Giving a party all on your own isn’t much fun. I think I’ve lost everyone. It’s hard to compete with everything out there.” He indicated the streets.

He could, Caroline decided, compete with anything in her book.

“Do you like wine?” He picked up the bottle she had been looking at. “Or champagne, perhaps? This is supposed to be a celebration. What’s a celebration without champagne?”

It wasn’t easy to keep looking at his face, his very blue eyes. When you’d spent your life in a nothing town in the Idaho mountains, confrontations with men like this didn’t happen.

“Champagne?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Thanks.”

He took a bottle from an ice bucket, unwound gold foil from its top and pried off the wire. One very strong thumb sent the cork toward the ceiling and they both laughed.

Perfect teeth. Perfect tan. And he looked Scandinavian, like one of those Nordic downhill skiers, only bigger. Big, muscular shoulders and chest. His brown silk shirt lay against those muscles, showing them off all the way over a hard six-pack.

Exotic. That was the second time tonight she had thought that word was the right one. His face was exotic, and his hair, long and blond, shining past his shoulders, sent shivers through Caroline. When he bent a little to pour the champagne into two glasses, his hair slipped forward, shadowing his features. Her knees weakened.

“I’m John,” he said. “What’s your name?”

She took the glass he pressed into her hand. “Caroline,” she said. His fingers remained, touching hers, for lovely seconds. He was so sexy.

“Joan told me to come up,” she said in a rush. “She’ll be along soon. I’m traveling as a single so I got paired up in a cabin with her. We’re sharing a room here, too. I was nervous about it at first—being with a complete stranger—but she’s really nice.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, “Joan. Very nice. Great dancer.”

“And she’s beautiful. You already know her, then?”

“From a cruise last year. Great opportunity to do a lot of dancing, if that’s what you like. No shortage of partners. Let’s sit down.”

Staring at him, Caroline sat on one of the couches, and he dropped down beside her. She couldn’t avoid his eyes, or his mouth or the dimple that dug in beside his mouth when he smiled.

He touched his glass to hers and drank deeply. Caroline followed suit. The cold champagne slid over her tongue and bubbled faintly in her throat. Almost immediately, the flood of warmth, the heady happiness, rushed in. “Good,” she said.

“The best,” he said, smiling again and ducking his head so that his hair slid to almost completely hide his face. “Why are you traveling alone?”

She hadn’t expected the question. “I’ve never been anywhere much before,” she told him. “I’ve wanted to do something like this for a long time, and I don’t have anyone to do it with so I decided to come anyway.” She wouldn’t tell him it was her plan to keep on going until she found someone to be with, someone who wanted to have fun and thought she was the best thing that ever happened to him.

“Do you like dancing?” John asked.

Caroline sighed. She felt warm all over. “I love dancing more than anything else.” She would not tell him most of her partners had been imaginary.

He held out his free hand. “Let me have it then.”

She frowned. “What?”

He laughed. “Your dance card. I want to fill it up for the whole cruise.”

Finishing her glass of champagne to hide the thrill of anticipation that made her flush, Caroline turned her face away.

“Did I say something wrong already?” he asked softly.

She shook her head. “You’re nice is all.”

“So are you. Let’s have a little more champagne.”

He took her glass to the table and came back with refills. Every step he took was smooth, sure. Of course he was a dancer.

He would do other things well, too. Like kiss.

“Did you rent this room?” she asked him and giggled. “It’s perfect for parties. All it needs is a dance