Shipped(64)

“Hello. How’s everyone doing tonight?” I say into the mic.

A smattering of cheers answers me. A few guests raise half-filled wineglasses. Walsh whoops enthusiastically.

“How many of you enjoyed the giant tortoises today?”

More whoops and whistles.

“And who here spotted a Darwin’s finch?”

Hands go up all over the deck.

A familiar face bobs through the crowd, drawing my attention like a homing beacon. Graeme edges toward the front until he’s standing not ten feet away. He’s wearing slim navy pants and canvas loafers, and his short-sleeved white shirt is unbuttoned at the top. Grinning, he lifts two fingers in a sexy salute before tucking his hands into his back pockets.

My mouth goes dry. I swallow thickly. “Wildlife like the giant tortoises and Darwin’s finches are what make the Galápagos Islands special, and we want to keep it that way. Scientists are working hard to preserve these unique species to ensure they survive and thrive for generations to come.

“For those of you who may feel moved to support such conservation efforts, Seaquest Adventures would like to extend a special offer. For every hundred dollars you donate to the research station, we will enter you into a monthly drawing to win a free cruise. So if you donate two hundred dollars, you will receive two entries. Five hundred dollars, five entries, and so on. And anyone who donates five hundred dollars or more today will become an inaugural member of our Conservationist Club, which includes benefits such as advanced sales on new cruise itineraries and access to special discounted travel.”

Guests murmur to one another. Graeme’s muscles go lax and his arms fall to his sides. Lips curving upward in wry understanding, he drops his chin in a heavy nod.

He gets it. What I’m proposing is a substantial shift toward ecotourism. A philanthropic initiative like this can become a cornerstone of our marketing in the region, including digital. It can help us stand out as a company that cares about giving back, not to mention entice people to support a good cause and potentially travel on a future cruise with us as a result.

When Graeme looks up at me, his eyes blaze, but not with anger or jealousy.

With pride.

Warmth seeps through every cell of my body, down to my bones.

“Donations can be made through your shipboard account; no checkbook needed. Just fill out one of the cards located on the dining tables and give it to any staff member. We also have two special guests joining us for dinner tonight: Dr. Douglas Shaw, a scientist with the research station, and his wife, Analisa Mendoza. Analisa is one of our staff members and an outreach volunteer. They’re here to answer any questions you may have about how your donation dollars can make a positive difference.”

Hoisting himself up onto the bench next to me, Doug waves to the crowd before hopping down. Analisa twirls her arm in the air.

“Thank you for letting us share the wonders of the Galápagos with you, and for considering supporting conservation efforts in the region. And with that”—I look to Gustavo, who gives me a thumbs-up—“dinner is served.”

Excited murmurs break out through the crowd as staff carries the last of the hot serving dishes to the buffet. The spicy aroma of barbecue permeates the air and my mouth waters. Switching off the mic, I twist sideways to step carefully off the bench, but between the pitch of the ship and my platform heels, I stumble as my feet hit the deck.

A firm hand catches me by the waist and warmth expands from the spot. “Brilliant,” murmurs Graeme, taking the mic from me and returning it to its case.

“You think?”

Something wistful flashes behind his eyes, a hint of worry, and then it’s gone in a blink. He nods. “I see the marketing potential. But more than that, you’re doing something good for this place, and that’s priceless.”

“We’ll see,” I mutter, rubbing the goose bumps from my forearms.

“What did James say? I assume you had to get permission from him before making an official offer to the guests.”

A waiter comes by with a tray of filled wineglasses. I pick out a white wine and Graeme snags a red. I take a noisy gulp. I did indeed call James today from Analisa’s office. That had been a fun conversation. After a lengthy inquisition about my big-picture plan, James was silent for so long I thought my heart would implode. But then he spoke.

“If you really feel this is your best idea, fine. Try it.”

At least he threw me a bone by offering to loop in all the necessary office staff on his end so I could focus on immediate logistics with Gustavo and the ship’s accountant. I take another sip of wine to cover my ambivalence over how much to tell Graeme.

“Now, now,” I say, wagging my finger. “I won’t give away my secrets to the competition.” I force a weak chuckle.

Graeme steps closer, eyebrows furrowing. “Is that still how you see me?”

“Yes… and no,” I whisper. I lift my chin and our gazes lock. The chattering noise and movement around us fades away and we’re the only two people on the ship.

All I see is Graeme’s face—the stubble dotting his jaw, his soft, angular lips, his ever-so-slightly crooked nose, and the fan of dark lashes framing his ocean-blue eyes. All I feel is the overwhelming pull to eliminate the distance between us. All I hear is the beating of my own heart.

A plate shatters somewhere across the deck and reality comes careening back. I shake my head to clear it.