Maiden Voyage Read online

  A novel of erotic romance by

  Cincinnati, Ohio

  6470A Glenway Avenue, #109

  Cincinnati, OH 45211-5222

  This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  eBook ISBN 1-59426-525-9

  Maiden Voyage © 2006 by Dreama Faire

  All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Cover art © 2006 by Stacey L. King

  Phaze is an imprint of Mundania Press, LLC.

  www.Phaze.com

  1

  For the first time in my life, I can do any damned thing I want! Professor Amanda Barker leaned closer to the mirror. Oooh, that was daring!

  Disgusted by the red flush creeping across her pale cheeks, she frowned and jabbed one last hairpin into the red-brown chignon at the nape of her neck. A surge of apprehension rolled through her stomach and she took a deep breath. Would she really be able to do this?

  Two steps out the front door, she stopped short, her breath curling on the frosty morning air. The last of the snow had melted, and half-inch green stubs of tulip and daffodil poked through the soggy earth, but the trees remained barren, patiently waiting for warmer weather. A cape of melancholy chilled her shoulders, even beneath the warm parka. Setting off at a brisk clip toward campus, she argued with herself about the advisability of telling Foster Dean about her plans. He wouldn't approve.

  "So what? Whose vacation is this, anyway?" she said aloud.

  The sharp words snapped through the cold air and, in seconds, the brief rush of independence disappeared, chased off by thirteen years of deferring to her supervisor.

  She opened the heavy door of Crossman Hall, and a whoosh of wonderfully warm air enveloped her. The familiar smell of old wood and tradition lulled her anxiety. I just won't tell him, she decided, and headed for the office at the end of the dim corridor.

  * * *

  Amanda squirmed as Foster peered over the top of his rimless glasses.

  "You're going to what?"

  She willed her pulse to stop racing. "I've booked passage on a tramp steamer."

  His gray eyes darkened with concern and his brow furrowed. "Amanda, do you think that's a good idea? Why a tramp steamer? Certainly, you'd enjoy a cruise ship more, don't you think?"

  She looked away, afraid he'd see her deeper intentions. "A student of mine took a similar trip to Greece last summer. She said it was wonderful, every bit as comfortable as any cruise ship, without the expense."

  Shaking his head, Foster pulled the reading glasses from his nose and laid them on the desk. "Your students are twenty years old." His eyes reflected pity. "Listen, I know the past year has been very hard for you since your mother passed away, but you should give yourself some more time. Take a conventional trip for now."

  "I'm fine, Foster. I want to do this—I need to experience something new and different."

  He didn't—couldn't—understand. The past year had been easy compared with the numbing routine of ten years as a caregiver. Eat, sleep, teach, care for Mother. A rodent-wheel life that kept thoughts of anything else at bay.

  Foster had been at the helm of the English Department for Amanda's entire teaching career, and she supposed he knew her well. But Amanda wasn't sure she even knew herself. With a sudden treasure trove of uncommitted time, she'd grown restless, found her life to be meaningless—a state of mind that dampened even her joy in teaching.

  He gazed at her for a moment. "Good luck. I hope you find whatever you're looking for."

  * * *

  Amanda watched the last student leave, then exhaled slowly. She gazed around the classroom, seeing every feature of a learning space that hadn't changed in twenty years. A tiny ripple ran through the pit of her stomach. Would she return to this room a changed woman? More worldly? Ready for a new life?

  She roused herself and glanced at the stack of final exams on the desk. She'd get them graded and turned in by the next day. She wanted nothing to clutter her mind while she explored the possibilities and unknowns of Miss Amanda Barker, spinster schoolteacher.

  A soft knock on the doorjamb brought her back to the present.

  "Amanda?"

  Calvin Ruggles grinned and stepped into the classroom. "Free of the little monsters for a whole month! Catching your breath?"

  Prickles of irritation crept across her shoulders. "Buggles," as the kids called him, had stubbornly—or stupidly, she wasn't sure which—hung around for the past year, acting as though they were more than just friends and colleagues.

  She nodded, gesturing at the pile of papers in front of her. "Hi, Cal. Unfortunately, they left me a farewell present."

  Cal came to stand beside the desk, and she automatically moved a step away from him. He had the damnedest habit of getting too close when they talked, so close she could see the mottling on his uneven yellow teeth, and her own reflection in his thick eyeglasses.

  He nodded. "Well, you have all spring break to get them graded." He gazed directly into her eyes. "How about we celebrate our freedom, and go get a hamburger?"

  "I can't. I have to get these finished by tomorrow afternoon."

  Disbelief knitted his brows. "Why? Jeez, can't you ever relax?"

  A nasty retort sprang to her lips, but she swallowed it. The physics professor was dorky, but brilliant, and he'd been her only source of intellectual stimulation in an otherwise stuffy small-town life.

  "Amanda, there's more to life than work. C'mon."

  She heaved a sigh and gave him a rueful smile. "Okay. Give me a minute to pack this stuff up."

  * * *

  The local diner was unusually quiet, bereft of the throngs of students who usually filled every booth and counter stool. The patrons that evening were other teachers who'd just been given a respite from the onslaught of raging hormones and enthusiasm for life. Amanda headed for a booth in the back, Cal right behind her. They both stopped to chat with colleagues along the way. When they'd settled into the red plastic seats, a middle-aged waitress appeared beside the table, order-pad in hand, a large smile on her face.

  "How are you two doing?" She glanced around the room. "I didn't expect so many customers tonight. I figured everyone would be celebrating down at the tavern."

  Cal grinned at Amanda. "We have four weeks to do that."

  She shifted in her seat and glanced away from his direct gaze. "I'll have the cheeseburger deluxe, no fries, and a diet soda, whatever you have."

  Cal ordered the same, and the waitress hurried away. For a moment, Cal seemed lost in thought as he arranged the salt, pepper, and catsup into a neat row in the center of the table. He glanced up at her and cleared his throat.

  "Listen, I was thinking...why don't we do something together during vacation? The skiing's pretty good this year, or we could go down to Boston and soak up some culture. In fact, Figaro is playing at the Boston Conservatory next weekend."

  As Cal spoke, Amanda fiddled with the corner of the placemat, rolling it tightly, then smoothing it out again. A sodden lump grew in her gut. So far, their occasional time together had been in neutral public territory, protected by the trappings of visibility. What he proposed now held a deeper meaning. She looked up from her fidgeting. Cal's thin, curly hair stood out in every direction, and his ruddy cheeks gave a boyish look to his round face. He wasn't part of her recent fantasies.


  "I can't. I'm going out of town."

  The disappointment that crushed his features sent an arrow of remorse through her head. He was really a nice man, and she'd continued the charade for her own selfish reasons. He'd been good company to occasionally fill a few of the empty hours in her life—nothing more. But clearly, he'd thought otherwise.

  She smiled apologetically. "I've booked a cruise to South America. Cal, I just have to get away for a while. This past year has been difficult, and I need to get in tune with myself again."

  He nodded slowly, but said nothing. Their food arrived, and the conversation turned to subjects less personal.

  Cal paid the check and, while he waited for change, he pulled out his pen and scribbled something on a paper napkin.

  Shoving it across the table, he smiled hopefully. "Send me a postcard?"

  * * *

  That evening, in the warmth of her cozy study, Amanda treated herself to a glass of wine to celebrate the end of the semester and the beginning of an adventure. Her rumpled thoughts about Calvin smoothed out, and she sank into her favorite daydream. A dark, handsome stranger, an isolated spot, no fear—and no regrets. She closed her eyes and let her imagination take over. The romance of the sea, the thrill of adventure. Maybe even pirates. Yes, a swarthy, menacing buccaneer who'd sweep her off her feet.

  She would cast off her mousy mien and let Fate take her where it would.

  2

  The pungent odor of sea-soaked wood and decayed vegetation assaulted Amanda's enthusiasm, and for one terrifying moment, she was positive she'd made a mistake. She should have taken a chance on Boston or the ski slopes. Much more her speed. Calvin, she could handle.

  She squinted against the afternoon sun. Huge ships lined up beside the long dock, casting monster shadows against the warehouses and cargo containers that covered acres of waterfront. Busy workers seemed oblivious to her presence. She craned her neck, searching for some clue to the names of the vessels.

  A deep voice broke into her concentration. "You booked on ATLAS?"

  A muscular black man with warm brown eyes smiled down at her, his teeth flashing brilliantly behind dark pink lips.

  "Yes, do you know which one it is?"

  The man chuckled and scooped up her two suitcases as though they were matchbooks. "Follow me, but watch your step. There's junk everywhere."

  Clutching her shoulder bag against her body, she trailed behind him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides, while she carefully scanned the walkway for obstacles. A few minutes later, puffing from the exertion, she stood beside the gangplank of a huge ship.

  Her guide's face crinkled into an explosive smile. "You'll get your exercise on this one—they don't have no elevators." Someone on the ship caught his attention and he waved, then turned back to her. "Enjoy your trip, Miss."

  She stared at the hulk of the ATLAS, lying low in the dark, oil-stained water. Why did I think this was such a great idea? Maybe Foster's right, and I'm still not myself.

  "Miss? Your passage papers and visa, please."

  While the uniformed man paged through the documents, Amanda panicked. I could change my mind. This trip didn't cost much. If I just pick up my suitcases and—Oh. She stared forlornly at her luggage moving swiftly up the gangplank with the man who'd led her here. When he reached the deck, he turned back.

  "You coming, Lady? Or are you just sending your stuff on a cruise?"

  She headed reluctantly up the steep gangplank.

  A few minutes later, her pulse clattered in her ears and she gulped for air. She'd climbed three sets of steep stairs to reach her cabin. She dropped onto the narrow bunk and tried to catch her breath while she looked around the small room.

  A window over the bed took up most of the seaward wall. Two chairs, a small round table, and a combination desk-bureau lined the opposite wall. The bathroom was barely large enough to turn around in, but was complete. A small refrigerator sat in the lower part of a roomy closet, and a full-length mirror hung on the bathroom door.

  A blue notebook lay on the desk. Hand-printed wide black letters ran uphill: "Welcome Aboard." She paged through the information, learning everything she'd need to know about her first bona fide vacation in over ten years.

  The view through the cabin window was expansive, if nothing else. Ships of every size and color lined the wharves for as far as she could see. The scene included trucks and cranes and heavy equipment, throngs of dockworkers, flocks of seagulls wheeling overhead—diving occasionally to secure a treasure thrown overboard, then squabbling loudly amongst themselves. The heavy vibrating echo of a ship's horn punctuated the orderly chaos. She closed her eyes and imagined how the view would be, once the ship left port. Peace and quiet. Privacy in her own little world, far from judgmental eyes. Her first real chance at adventure.

  She glanced at the notebook again. Dinner at six in the officers' mess. I wonder why they use such a peculiar word for the dining room. At home, she'd reach for a dictionary. She grinned and shook her head. That's my other life. This will definitely be a learning experience.

  3

  Thirty minutes later, Amanda had unpacked her meager wardrobe and stowed the empty suitcases in the small space over the closet. She glanced at her watch. She had just enough time for a quick shower before dinner. She peeled out of her clothes and stepped in front of the mirror. Her softly rounded body looked pretty good for thirty-six. Certainly not the hard body that seemed so fashionable these days, but she'd had neither the time nor the inclination to work out at a gym. Her infrequent exercise included only an occasional game of tennis with colleagues, or a little golf.

  Full breasts stared back at her with large brown nipples, an endowment she self-consciously camouflaged under loose blouses and bulky sweaters. She smoothed her hands down her thighs and squinted. A little chubby. Her fingers moved across her slightly rounded belly, then touched the small tire around her middle. How much would it take to whittle that down?

  For what? Why did she care? Her students saw her only as Dr. Barker, opera buff and Professor of English.

  But still her imagination persisted. What would a man think of her body? At the thought of being naked in front of someone, warmth swept across her chest and up her neck. The brown skin around her nipples tightened into rigid wrinkles, sending a prickly sensation deep into the soft flesh. She thought about her long-ago college experiences with the opposite sex. Nothing exciting, or even memorable. Groping in the dark. Kid stuff.

  Discarding the thoughts, she stepped into the shower. The sharp sting of hot water sent a shiver across her shoulders, and the soap foamed and bubbled over her arms and chest as she enjoyed the simple pleasure of bathing. Suddenly, a shudder vibrated the floor of the shower, and her feet tingled. The ship was moving, easing slowly away from the dock. A thrill raced through her thoughts. No more fumbling in the dark. I'm in the hands of Fate, and I'm ready for life. Bring it on!

  * * *

  Amanda stopped to catch her breath at the bottom of the last flight of stairs. Youthful laughter echoed somewhere behind her and two young girls rounded the corner of the superstructure.

  "Hi-ya! Isn't this exciting? You headed for the poop deck?"

  They broke into hysterical giggles, and Amanda cringed. Just what I need—college kids. Talk about a busman's holiday.

  "Follow us. We've already checked the place out."

  The tanned boy-bodies skipped ahead of her and along the gangway, then disappeared through a door. Amanda followed, hoping the girls weren't the only other passengers on the voyage. With luck, there might be another interesting traveler on board—preferably, a man.

  The officers' mess surprised her, though she wasn't sure what she'd expected in the first place. Paneled in glossy dark teak, the large room had a comfortable, homey feel to it. Curtains framed the windows opening onto the sea, and plush carpet covered the floor. The long dining table was draped in white linen, and formal table settings marked each place. Comfortable-looking, leather-padded
chairs lined both sides.

  A short mahogany-skinned man greeted her. The tag on his white chef's jacket proclaimed him to be "Solly."

  "Hallo, Missy. Welcome to ATLAS." He gestured toward the dining table. "Please, the captain is honored if you will sit beside him."

  Amanda gave him a puzzled look, then sank into the appointed chair next to the head of the table. "The captain knows who I am?"

  Solly's expansive grin crinkled the skin around his merry brown eyes. "Oh yes. Captain likes to know the ladies on his ship."

  He bowed slightly, then disappeared through a doorway. Amanda shrugged and turned her attention to the other guests at the long table. The college girls huddled together at the far end, laughing and whispering. An elderly man sat midway down the table, his attention focused on a thick book. He wore a hearing aid, had a shock of unruly gray hair that hadn't seen a barber in some time, and his body language made it clear he didn't want to socialize. Amanda felt a stir of disappointment. If this is the passenger list, I'll be doing a lot of reading and sleeping.

  Within the next ten minutes, staff officers of assorted sizes, shapes, and nationalities filed into the room and took their seats. Amanda nodded to those who met her eye, and wondered what they thought about having tourists on board. Suddenly, the men leapt to their feet as a great bear of a man ducked through the doorway and grinned.

  In three long strides, he stood beside her, bowing and offering his hand.

  A thick Scandinavian accent resounded through his words. "Captain Lars Olsen, your servant." His brilliant blue eyes twinkled. "You are the schoolteacher, yes?"

  Blushing with delight and astonishment at his gallant manner, she nodded as his large calloused paw lifted her hand to his lips, his well-trimmed blonde beard tickling her fingers as he kissed them. He beamed at her, then gestured for her to sit.