without an excess ounce of fat on him. Most women would have been eating up the flattery and been all over him by now.
Time to turn up the wattage a notch.
Sal directed his most melting gaze at Serena. She didn’t seem particularly impressed. Usually women got excited when they heard he was in the jewelry business. Immediately visions of diamonds began dancing in their heads.
“What do you say, Serena, will you entrust your pendant to me so I can appraise it?”
“Uh…perhaps,” she answered, making it sound as if he wasn’t exactly trustworthy. “But it’s not really mine.”
All too soon the lively salsa came to an end and another began. Sal tightened his hold on her before she could run off. If she knew how turned on he was maybe she’d loosen up a bit.
“Why are you in such a hurry, bella? The evening is young and I’m enjoying dancing with you,” he whispered in her ear.
Serena muttered something he didn’t quite hear and continued to dance. She was a good dancer and used her hips seductively. It wasn’t a hardship holding her close, since she was curvy in all the right places. If things went as planned, he wouldn’t have to fake interest in her.
Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder. Sal swung around, his infamous glare in place. Damn. The man had a camcorder in his hand. He must want to film Serena.
Sal was reluctant to turn her over to the man, especially when he was just warming her up. By the time he was through making love to her, she’d be begging him to take that pendant from between her beautiful olive breasts. He just needed to work on getting her to trust him.
“Is there something you wanted?” Sal asked the cruise ship employee.
“Yes, we’d like to interview the person who found the pendant.”
Sal spotted another videographer lurking in the background. On second thought this might well be the time to make himself scarce. He couldn’t risk having his mug plastered on every in-cabin television or the videos passengers bought to take home. He’d be the first person they came after when that pendant went missing.
SERENA’S PRAYERS HAD been answered. She’d been saved, and not a minute too soon. She’d come this close to kneeing her dance partner in the groin. Granted, she wasn’t crazy about being interviewed by the video staff, but anything was better than having this man rubbing up against her while pretending to dance.
“Where would you like to conduct your interview?” she asked the man with the camcorder.
“Here on the dance floor,” he said, sticking a microphone under her nose. “You’re with the Rhythm Dancers group so that means you much prefer fast dancing to slow.”
“Sí. Yes, I am and yes I do.”
“Your native language is Spanish but you speak English perfectly. Where are you from?”
“Argentina.”
“Cool!”
Serena, conscious of the camcorder whirring away, looked around frantically for Pia. Her friend handled the spotlight much better than she did.
Pia had found herself another dance partner, so Serena knew she was on her own. She fingered the pendant around her neck and stared into the lens of the camera.
Her interviewer had a serious expression on his face as he held the microphone, and spoke into it in exaggerated tones.
“Once upon a time, according to Greek mythology, a moon goddess dared to fall in love with a commoner, a humble shepherd no less. This very much angered her suitor, the god Zeus, no less. In his jealousy Zeus killed the shepherd. The devastated moon goddess wept and wept until her tears threatened to flood the earth. Finally she was convinced to stop. One of those teardrops fell on the beautiful diamond clasp of the cloak that concealed the two lovers, hiding it forever. To this day, silver teardrop pendants are a sign of true love, and the person who finds our shipboard pendant is guaranteed to be lucky in love.”
His companion stepped forward, taking over.
“Will Serena d’Andrea be lucky enough to find a shipboard romance? Let’s hear what she has to say.”
The microphone was thrust under Serena’s nose again.
“How does it feel to have discovered the pendant?” the crew member asked.
Serena, conscious of every eye on her, smiled into the camera. Even the people who’d been dancing had stopped.
“It was a big surprise. There it was right at the bottom of the gift basket. I certainly didn’t expect to find it.”
“Are you excited about the prospect of wearing the pendant around the ship and maybe finding your own true love?”
The camera zoomed in to capture the pendant nestled between Serena’s cleavage.
Caught off guard by the directness of the question, Serena fingered the piece. “Searching for the pendant was fun, and I enjoyed reading the story of the shepherd Lexus and his love for the moon goddess. I’d like to believe that some day I will find my true love.”
“Do you believe true love exists?” the other videographer asked, stepping forward.
Of course she believed in love. But love hurt and could be painful if unrequited. She’d learned that the hard way by falling for Marc LeClair, the man who’d broken her heart.
Serena glanced in the direction where she’d last seen the man she’d thought might be Marc Le Clair. He was no longer there and neither was the redhead.
“My friend is a very romantic woman,” Pia said, coming up beside her. “She is excited about the possibility of meeting Señor Right aboard Alexandra’s Dream. Aren’t you, querida?” Pia placed an arm around Serena’s shoulders and smiled for the camera.
Caught up in her friend’s enthusiasm, and buoyed by her support, Serena managed another bright smile. She held the pendant between her thumb and forefinger, making sure the camera crew got a good shot of the piece.
“Of course. Let’s hope this brings me good luck.”
Applause broke out around her. The disk jockey cranked up the music louder, signaling the interview was officially over. Dancing immediately resumed.
But the music was quickly cut off when a commanding voice called over the intercom, “We have officially set sail for Hemingway’s Key West. We wish you a safe and enjoyable journey. Bon voyage!”
CHAPTER THREE
“YOU DANCE LIKE A NATIVE,” the redhead said coyly. She’d commandeered Marc’s arm and practically dragged him onto the dance floor. With each sultry move her oversized breasts grazed his chest, but he still didn’t know her name, nor was he particularly interested in finding out.
“You could say I am a native,” Marc answered smoothly, executing an underarm turn. “My mother was Argentinean, so I learned to dance practically before I could walk.”
“Argentinean.”
