Romantic Seas

By Diana Hunter

The deep blue of the Mediterranean Sea, the coastline of Italy slipping by...what a wonderful, carefree way to spend a cruise. Maisy is grateful her friends talked her into joining them, especially when she meets Scott Henderson, tall, graying, and definitely handsome. A shipboard romance might be exactly what she needs.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Diana Hunter
• Release date: Jul 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005935726

Diana Hunter

Diana Hunter became interested in writing stories with bondage and D/s themes when she found a dearth of them on the web. Nothing she read seemed to have the romantic element she knew was possible in such relationships. Challenged by a friend to write a better one, she wrote her first full-length novel, Secret Submission. Each book Diana writes contains a kernel of truth or deeply held conviction from her own life, but don’t ask her where truth ends and fantasy begins...she’ll never tell! When not writing, Diana is usually at her loom, weaving thread lines of a different sort. Married for over thirty years to the same man, she is grateful for all the wonderful encouragement he gives her.

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Romantic Seas

By Diana Hunter

Copyright 2022 Diana Hunter

All Rights Reserved

Discover other titles by Diana Hunter at www.dianahunter.net

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Chapter One

Mary Elizabeth Flynn, Maisy to her friends, wiped the sweat from her brow and kept walking. Middle-aged, slightly overweight women shouldn’t be walking in this heat, she told herself. Even if it was on the deck of a cruise ship and even if the cause was worthy. She smiled and shook her head as the ship’s entertainment officer held up a number and called encouragement to her.

Only five more laps and you’ve done 5K!

Halfway done. She lifted her head, wondering where the Mediterranean breezes were when you needed them.

Come on, Maisy, we’re rootin’ for ya!

This time she grinned in earnest at her two best friends who lounged against the rail. Peg, the tallest of the three of them, toweled the sweat off her own lithe form. She’d always been the athlete, the one who’d made Homecoming Queen their senior year in high school, who married first and divorced first. She’d run the race and finished in nineteen minutes. The woman beside her was more Maisy’s size, although lighter in coloring and a year behind them in school. Trish had been held back after she’d missed most of sixth grade because of scarlet fever, but that hadn’t stopped the three of them from staying best friends. Still married to her high school sweetheart, her husband understood and accepted the bonds of girlfriends. Now all three approached the Big 6-0 and this cruise was their gift to themselves.

Peg flicked her towel at her as if she drove a herd of cattle before her. I’m hungry! Hurry up and I’ll treat us to lunch.

Funny. Maisy deliberately slowed her pace. All the lunches here are free.

You rat!

Nope, Maisy called over her shoulder. Snail.

Grinning, she picked up her pace again, using the hem of her shirt to wipe her face as she turned the corner. No one hung out back here and she was safe showing a little skin.

It seemed like forever before she circled around to her friends, but a quick check of her watch showed just six minutes. Four more laps. That’d be twenty-four more minutes and she’d head for the shower to be followed by a lunch of the delicious salmon that always graced the menu. Prepared differently each time, she found her mouth watering as she came up on Peg and Trish.

They had their backs to the deck this time, however, watching the distant shoreline go by. Maisy grinned and snuck on past. She knew them. In a few minutes, they’d turn around and wonder what was taking her so long. If they bothered to look to their right instead of their left, they’d see her disappearing form. It made her hurry along the deck to see if she could make the turn at the far end of the ship before they noticed.

The game made it more fun and the lap flew by. She checked her watch as she came up on them again to discover she’d done it in just under five minutes. Three more laps—could she be done in fifteen minutes? Was she the last one in? She hadn’t seen anyone in front or behind her this last lap. And the perky entertainment officer had gone inside to be at the reception for those who’d finished.

There she is. What took you so long? Concern was etched in Trish’s face and Maisy felt just a little guilty for sneaking past them.

Only three more laps and I’m done. I went by when you weren’t looking.

Smarty pants.

You got it. Why don’t you go inside? I’m almost done and it’s hot out here.

Peg called an answer, but Maisy couldn’t quite catch it over the increasing noise of the engines.

She pulled around the corner and almost stopped, surprised to see someone here this time. The engine noise was at its loudest in the back of the ship and, although conversations could be held, the effort to shout everything pretty much would stop them after a few sentences.

A man stood with his back to her, watching the water churn below them. Since he leaned against the railing, she couldn’t judge his height, but certainly the view from behind was pleasant. Slacks rather than shorts and a tucked-in polo shirt gave her a clear view of a very nice, firm, Michelangelo-worthy ass. In the distance, two other ships glided along, from this distance looking like paper ships on a bright blue paper ocean. Maisy smiled. If he wanted peace and didn’t mind noise, the view was beautiful. Both views. Ducking her head to hide her smile, she continued on.

As she expected, Peg and Trish still waited for her. Two more laps—almost done!

Go inside, Maisy instructed, and make sure they know I intend to complete this walk. The Koman Foundation deserves my best effort and I want my pink ribbon.

Peg nodded and Trish looked away, suddenly misty-eyed. Both knew the importance of this walk. Maisy’s fast-track career to become one of the youngest lawyers in the prestigious firm of Taylor, Taylor and Smith had derailed when her father’s esophageal cancer had been diagnosed. Her mom, a wonderful woman and great PTA mom, had gone to pieces. She knew nothing about running the family business. What did she know from construction? And how was she going to take care of her husband? She didn’t know anything about nursing.

Maisy hadn’t said a word, simply giving her notice and going home to take care of her parents. Not for the first time she regretted being an only child. Everything fell to her.

What had surprised them all was how quickly she picked up what needed to be done. The workers at Flynn Construction accepted her as her father’s liaison and then, when it became obvious he was incapable of making decisions anymore, they accepted her as their new boss. She might not be able to pound a nail in straight, but she knew how to deal with customers, suppliers, and the tax man. The men and women of Flynn Construction counted their blessings that the Old Man had a daughter who could step in so smoothly, run the business, and save their jobs.

Her father hadn’t been expected to live out the year; he’d lasted for four. And when her mother took ill less than a month after they’d buried her father, it made sense for Maisy to stay on and nurse her mom through cancer as well. Two mastectomies hadn’t been enough to slow the spread of the disease and just ten months ago, they’d buried Maisy’s mother beside her dad in Three Oaks Cemetery.

Maisy gave none of this a thought as she rounded the corner for the second to last leg of the race. It was a pleasant surprise to discover the cruise line held this friendly competition to raise money for a cause she’d come to know far too well. As she approached the rear of the ship—the stern she reminded herself—she found herself hoping the gentleman was still there.

He was. His gaze remained out to sea, but he’d straightened, no longer leaning on the railing. She was right. At least ten inches above her own five foot four. She did the math. Six-two, then. A little on the tall side for her. Although she hadn’t dated in…wow. Years now. She stifled a sigh, remembering most of the men she’d gone out with tended to be closer to her own height. And Tom had only two inches on her.

Pfft. Tom. She hadn’t thought of him in months. Stupid man. How could she have wasted so much time on him?

Once again, she passed the tall stranger without him seeming to notice. Damping down the regret, Maisy picked up her pace. One lap more. She could do this.

No one waited for her at the start/finish line this time around. Her friends had done as she suggested and gone inside. She could hear the pop of champagne as she passed the doors and saw the real racers, the ones who had actually run—or walked really, really fast—all had glasses in hand and were toasting their completion.

She could go in. No one was watching. Who would know she hadn’t done the last lap?

She would. And so would her mother, whose soul rested somewhere in the afterlife. Yes, Ma, she muttered. Finish what you start. I know.

With considerably less spring in her step, she slowed her pace to a stroll and continued walking.

She checked her watch as she approached the corner around the stern. Her plain, serviceable watch, she thought as she noted her time. Unadorned silver casing with a simple black leather band, she’d owned it for years. Keeps a lickin’ and keeps on tickin’! was what the ads used to say, and she had to agree.

So intent on figuring out the time it would take her to finish, she didn’t, at first, notice her gentleman had moved. No longer staring off the back of the ship, he’d moved to the railing on the far side from her. The right side of the ship facing forward. Which one was that? Starboard or port? Port had four letters and so did left, so…he stood at the starboard rail.

Pleased to have puzzled it through, she grinned at the same time he turned around. Blue eyes the color of the sea behind him set off by a wind-blown mop of silver hair. The hair color didn’t bother her. Hers wasn’t much darker. But in her younger days, she’d preferred men with darker eyes – the deep browns that were nearly black had held the most mystery and intrigue.…

He nodded at her as she approached.

She nodded back.

He spoke a single word as she drew close, Hello.

She responded. Hello. And then her mouth ran away with her. Sorry, can’t stop. Nearly done and I have to finish.

He drew back and threw his hands up in surrender. Don’t want to interrupt a woman with a mission.

Damn. A chance to flirt and she’d screwed it up. A flare of irritation at herself made her turn around and walk backwards several steps. Not a mission. A race. Gotta finish a race.

She turned back before she made herself look even more foolish. What did he care that she was racing? For that matter, what did anyone care? She’d watched as the first one to complete the ten laps finished in less than sixteen minutes, his fast run a result of years of participating in 5K races. She’d watched as runner after runner passed her by, knowing it was only right, since they were moving far faster than she.

But then the walkers started lapping her and she watched as they reached the finish lap and received congratulations by the ship’s staff and other passengers. She would just double her speed and give it another push for another lap around until now, when everyone else had gone inside to party and drink champagne and she was still out here, trudging along with no one to keep her company but her own determination.

And then a handsome man tries to strike up a conversation and she shuts him down in her single-mindedness. Really, what would it matter if she didn’t complete the race? They’d all already forgotten her. Yes, she’d told her friends to go on in and enjoy the party, but part of her perversely wished they’d stayed to cheer her on.

Maisy made it the length of the ship, ignoring the dwindling noises that came from the center where the party was being—had been?—held, turned the corner at the front of the ship and hurried along the short section. Only one more turn and she was done.

She put on some steam, pumping her arms to make herself go