The Way He Moves. Marcia King-Gamble

her evening bag. She was still shaken up, and more terrified than she was willing to admit. All she wanted to do was put the unpleasant incident behind her. “I thought about handing it in, but I hate to let that man win. Besides, he was caught, so maybe the pendant does have some lucky charm.”

      Pia stood in front of the full-length mirror, finger-combing her hair, and putting the final touches on her makeup.

      “This dark haired man, the one who threw the drink, what did he look like?” Serena asked.

      “He was hot, sort of a Hugh Jackman type—you know, the Australian actor.”

      Serena bit down on her bottom lip.

      “And this Jackman look-a-like is one of our dance group?”

      “He might be. He was on the dance floor several times with that hot-to-trot redhead. I remember looking at him and thinking, Now, there is one classy man. He’s got a golden tan, dreamy blue eyes, and a smile that could stop a woman’s heartbeat.” Pia must have noticed Serena’s stricken expression. “Dios Mío, Serena, he’s not the man you think is Marc?”

      Serena nodded her head slowly. “He sounds like the passenger I pointed out to you earlier.”

      “Then you must contact him and thank him for his help.”

      “I suppose I could. If I speak with him at length I might be able to determine if he’s really Marc in disguise.”

      “Have the maître d’ send him a bottle of wine or something. He’s bound to call you and thank you.”

      “Good idea. And while I’m at it, I’ll also send a bottle of wine to the man who returned the pendant. Let’s go. We’ll be late for the second seating.”

      Serena picked up her purse and Pia followed her out. They’d both agreed that the Empire Room, the main dining room, would be their best choice for dinner. As they approached they spotted the long line of passengers waiting to enter.

      “Why don’t we come back in fifteen minutes after it opens,” Pia suggested, “Now is as good a time as any to familiarize ourselves with the ship. If we start off on Helios we can work our way down.”

      Pia led the way to a glass elevator, and after a short wait they joined a number of people getting on. Among them was a chubby, middle-aged, overdressed woman, clutching the arm of a man in suit and tie. She poked Serena’s arm and said, “Aren’t you the woman that man attacked? I witnessed the whole thing.”

      “You did?”

      “Yes. I told the security people that man was dancing way too close to you. All of a sudden he left his partner and lunged for your throat. We’re from Kentucky. We don’t have this kind of excitement at home.”

      “Well, at least he was caught,” another passenger chimed in.

      Everyone in the packed elevator was now staring at Serena. She was glad when the elevator stopped on Poseidon and several people got off.

      “I hope he didn’t hurt you too badly,” the plump, plain-speaking woman said. The sentiment was echoed by several others and Serena thanked them for their kindness.

      She was relieved when they reached Helios and she and Pia quickly circled the artificially lit sundeck.

      “We’ll need to spend some time here,” she said as they did a quick walk-through of the Jasmine Spa, fitness center and Starlight Theatre. All the amenities of an upscale resort seemed to be here, the putting green, tennis courts, hot tubs and a spacious observation deck.

      “Sign me up,” Pia said enthusiastically.

      “We’ll come back tomorrow when it’s light. Shall we take the stairs to the next deck?”

      “Sure.”

      On deck eleven, Artemis, they stuck their heads into the main lounge aptly named the Court of Dreams. It was three stories high and very glitzy. It reminded Serena of a wedding palace with its ornate railings, sweeping staircases and marble steps.

      In typical Renaissance style, cherubs floated on the clouds on the ceiling, and pink, white and gold upholstered sofas and chairs added to the dreamy effect. Tucked away in illuminated alcoves were vases of greenery and blooming roses or statues of the Greek gods and goddesses. On stage, angled slightly to the left, a massive, black concert grand piano dominated.

      “This reminds me so much of a European grand concert hall,” Pia exclaimed.

      “It is rather elegant.”

      They took a quick look at the indoor and outdoor pools, popped into the Sunshine’s American Diner, where families with kids were chomping on hamburgers and pizzas while enjoying a more casual dining experience.

      “The Empire Room should be open by now,” Serena suggested, heading for the stairs.

      A tuxedo-clad maître d’ and several assistants hovered at the entrance of the dining room, greeting the few people trickling in.

      “May I seat you?” he asked. The women gave him their Alexandra’s Dream cards. After scrutinizing them, he flashed an even larger smile. “I have been waiting for you.”

      Serena’s eyebrows rose. “You have?”

      “Yes, indeed. I will bring you to the captain’s table. Please follow me.”