One Charmed Christmas - Sheila Roberts Page 0,13

This trip with her good friend would be her Christmas Day. And it would be a good one.

* * *

What brain-fogging drug had Trevor been on that had made him stupid enough to let Kurt talk him into this?

The first leg of their journey had been torture. On the plane, on the bus, up the gangplank—he’d felt like an engine, reluctantly pulling along a string of cars. Directly behind him had been Harriet, talking all the way. Behind her had come the hulking Hugh, who every once in a while would break in on Harriet’s pontificating with questions like, “How the hell do you know that, Harriet?” or comments such as, “I think you’re full of shit.” Behind Hugh had come a girl with a nose ring and a tat above her right boob (showed off by the low-cut skin-hugging black top she wore over her ripped jeans) who had refused to let Hugh out of her sight. Trevor dubbed her the giggler. God help him, he was going to go mad.

There had to be someone on this cruise ship younger than fifty and older than twenty who he could hang out with. Preferably female. Preferably cute.

His gaze latched on to a woman at the far end of the lobby with shoulder-length blond hair. She wore tight black pants and brown boots that came up to her knees. Her coat was open to reveal a long, red sweater. It matched her lipstick. Red. Perfect. The woman next to her, a brunette, was pretty hot, too, but Trevor spied a ring on her finger. Taken. So, were these two friends, sisters? Married? Oh, please, no.

The hottie gave her hair a flip with her left hand. No ring. Naked finger.

Naked. Man, it had been too long.

Trevor had to find out who they were. He started to swim through the crowd of people still waiting to check in to meet them. Harriet could say what she wanted about propinquity accomplishing the same thing as seeing a beautiful woman from across a crowded room. He’d endured Harriet’s propinquity for nine hours and fifty-five minutes, actually more, counting the bus ride to the dock. Now he saw a beautiful woman and he knew which worked for him.

A salmon swimming upstream had it easier. There were simply too many people milling around and Kurt was calling him, ready for them to finally check into their room. He frowned as he watched the two women disappear down the hall on the stern end.

Well, it was a small ship. He’d find Miss Red Lipstick.

He swam back to where Kurt stood and took his key card for their room.

A voice at his elbow said, “I guess I’ll see you in the lounge.”

Harriet. He didn’t want to be mean to the kid, but he didn’t want to encourage her, either.

Too late, he chided himself. He’d already done that when he gave her the chocolate bar. Unfortunately for him, her mother had never taught her not to take candy from strangers.

He dredged up half a smile and said, “Yeah, maybe.”

It was, indeed, a small ship. He hoped he wouldn’t have to spend all his time on board hiding in the stateroom.

Not that it would be a bad room to hide in. It was about the size of the room he and Kurt had shared growing up. Except no one had gotten the memo about changing a queen to two singles.

“I’m not spooning with you,” he cracked.

“If they don’t get this fixed you’re on the floor,” Kurt joked back. “I’ll stop at the desk on our way out and tell ’em to fix it.”

“On our way out? We just got in.”

“And we’ve time to check out the city before the ship leaves. Come on. There’s a shop I want you to see.”

“In the red-light district? What would Mom say?”

“Don’t get all excited We’re not going there. That won’t get busy until tonight.”

“Yeah? How do you know?”

“I heard.”

“So where are we headed?” Trevor asked as they walked back over the gangplank and off the ship. “The Rijksmuseum?”

“Not enough time to do it justice. But you are gonna see art.”

The entire city was a work of art if you asked Trevor—tree-lined canals, tall, gabled brick houses and proud old buildings such as the stock exchange, which was completed in 1903.

Bicycles were everywhere in the shopping areas. “These guys have got it figured out,” Trevor said as he looked at a bike parking area. He’d never seen so many bikes parked in one place in

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