Countering His Claim Page 14

  She was confident in the fire crew’s ability, but fire was unpredictable and potentially devastating, and so many people seemed to have been affected. This place was her home; the people were her second family. She sent up a little prayer that no one had been hurt badly—the only concession she could afford to make to the anxiety that crept through her—and kept working.

  “What can I do?” The voice was deep and calm behind her. She turned to see Luke, so tall and solid and unflappable, and suddenly she felt centered again. “Do you have first-aid training?”

  “Advanced first aid, updated every year.”

  “Excellent. Grab a pair of gloves from Jody. You can take her seat. Jody, there are more people coming through—can you go out and start assessing and prioritizing those waiting?”

  “On it,” the nurse said and vacated her seat for Luke.

  Working beside him was smooth and easy—they immediately slipped into a routine where she passed him patients who only needed basic attention and he followed her instructions without question. There was a synergy to their work.

  Della looked up for her next patient and saw Roxie Appleby. “Roxie, how are you?”

  “Just a little burn on my wrist,” she said and sat in the chair.

  “Let me have a look.” Della took her hand, noting that it was only a mild burn. “Did you see how the fire started?”

  Roxie sighed. “It was a few stations across from me. I didn’t see, but it spread fairly quickly and we all rushed to smother it with the fire blankets. A couple of cooks grabbed the fire extinguishers and the sprinklers came on, but it’s still going on in there.”

  “I’m glad you weren’t hurt more than this. Once we’re done here, I want you to go up to the top deck and get some fresh air. The people we’ve seen will already be up there.” She turned to Luke. “Luke, can you get Roxie some oxygen while I do a dressing on her burn?”

  “Not a problem,” Luke said, then started talking to Roxie in soothing tones as Della dressed the burn.

  They worked side by side for another ten minutes before Max rushed in and squatted beside Della. “Dr. Walsh, they need you in there. They have a chef collapsed and they want your okay before they move him. He has some burns.”

  Della nodded and her stomach sank as she mentally ran through all the chefs she knew but hadn’t seen in the first-aid station yet. “Have you got a fire suit for me?”

  “Yep, over here,” Max said as they walked to the door.

  She felt Luke move beside her. “I’ll come with you.”

  His reassuring presence and extra pair of hands would be valuable but she couldn’t accept his offer. “It’s policy not to take noncrew into a fire zone.” She gave him a tight smile as she took the heavy orange suit from Max. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Dr. Walsh,” he said, sounding every inch the powerful businessman he was. “I’m a half-owner of the ship and I have an advanced first-aid certificate. You might need help and you can’t spare one of the nurses from here.”

  She bit down on her lip as she considered. He was right—being half-owner of the ship probably meant the policy didn’t apply to him. “Are you sure?”

  “Absolutely.” Luke’s steel-gray gaze didn’t waver.

  Della nodded. “Jody, you’ll need to take over in here, and call in a couple of the crew with first-aid training. Mr. Marlow and I are going into the galley.”

  She pulled the suit on over her clothes, finishing with the helmet, as Luke did the same, then they made their way into the exclusion zone, Luke carrying a stretcher. Once on the other side of the door, Luke gave her fingers a squeeze and she threw him a grateful smile.

  It was dark and hot—all electricity had been turned off, but their helmets had torches and they found their way easily enough through the other rooms in Section Four till they reached the galley. Soot covered the countertops and the food that had been in the process of being prepared, and fire retardant foam was piled high in places where the fire team had worked. Even with the air filter on her helmet, she could smell the smoke in the air.

  She weaved through the benches until one of the crew in an orange suit and helmet waved her over and guided her to the collapsed man he’d been sitting with. Della knelt down beside the dazed but conscious chef, who was wearing an oxygen mask and a white uniform with scorch marks. She only vaguely recognized him, and double-checked his badge to find his name was Ted before she said, “Hi, Ted. It’s Dr. Walsh. You’ve had a fall, but you’ll be fine now.”

  She listened to his breathing and felt for his pulse. While Luke spoke reassuringly to the man, she continued the assessment, including looking for any damage that may have occurred when he fell. He had some burns, but she was more worried about his lungs, given the smoke he must have breathed in before the fire crew had fitted the mask. Luckily, he didn’t appear to have hurt himself much when he collapsed, so she gave the okay to move him. The three of them rolled the man onto a stretcher, then she and Luke carried him out.

  As soon as they made it out the door and through the line of galley staff that snaked its way along the corridor, Max grabbed the handles from her end of the stretcher, and she whipped off her mask, relief sweeping through her that the worst was probably over.

  “Jody, call the city hospital,” she said as she stripped off her fire suit. “We need an ambulance urgently.”

  Jody reached for the phone and gave instructions to the ship’s operator. Della hung her fire suit over a chair, then took the handles from Luke so he could get out of his. “We need to take him up to the lobby. I’ll do some first aid there, so at least we’re ready for the ambulance when it arrives. Are you all right to keep carrying him?”

  “Yep,” he said, and took his end back.

  “Max, can you get someone else to carry the other end—I need to keep my hands free. Also, someone to run to the medical suite to pick up some supplies.” She grabbed one of the first-aid backpacks from the doorway. “Jody, can you travel in the ambulance with him?”

  “Sure,” the nurse said.

  Della ducked her head into Cal’s makeshift first-aid room. “Maree, we’re going to need you to take over in the other room—Jody’s going with the ambulance. I’ll be back down as soon as I can. Jody’s already called in more first aiders to help you both. They should be arriving any minute.”

  * * *

  The rest of the day passed in a blur. Della heard from Jody when she returned a couple of hours later that the chef was doing well at the hospital.

  They treated more crew—the galley had been full of chefs, cooks and waitstaff serving late breakfasts and prepping for lunch, and everyone needed at least a quick check over. Luckily no one else was hurt as badly as the chef taken ashore, and everything could be handled by the Cora Mae’s medical team. Luke worked like a Trojan on any task she set him, and handed her a bottle of water and a smile each time she turned around.

  Once the last person had been seen, Della was tired and desperately needed a shower, but began the cleanup in the office where they’d had the first-aid station.

  Luke laid a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. “Can the others handle the cleanup without you?”

  She glanced around at the rest of the team, plus the other first aiders Jody had called in. They’d all had a long day.

  “They could,” she said, turning back to him, “but I don’t want to leave it all to them.”

  “You won’t be slacking off. Captain Tynan wants to see us both as soon as we’re free.”

  “Go,” Cal said. “I’d rather do the cleanup with Jody and Maree than go to the logistics meeting you’re about to have.”

  “Okay, thanks,” she said on a sigh and followed Luke out the door.

  As they walked along the corridors, Luke draped an arm over her shoulders. She glanced up at him and he shrugged. �
�I’m pretty sure the crew all know we’re seeing each other, so why shouldn’t I give you a bit of support after the day you’ve put in?”

  She thought back to Jody’s comments that morning and smiled. “I think they know, too.” And it felt good—right—to walk along, physically linked to the man she loved.

  Yet a shiver raced across her skin. They hadn’t talked about it, but they both knew their time together was coming to an end. And despite the darkened surroundings that she still insisted on when their clothes were off, there had been more intimacy, and a sense of urgency to their lovemaking since they’d come back from Melbourne. As if each time could be their last.

  And once that last time inevitably happened, she wasn’t sure how she’d bear it.

  * * *

  When they reached the meeting room, she followed Luke over to where the captain and several key senior crew members were gathered.

  Captain Tynan looked up from the ship plans that were spread over the table. “Ah, Mr. Marlow, Dr. Walsh. Excellent. This will be easier with you both here. That was the advantage of Patrick living on board, too—on other ships I’d have to ring the head office to get authorization for significant repairs.”

  Della chewed on her lip. When she’d talked to Patrick about the running of the ship, they’d discussed big picture topics like routes and entertainments, not issues like repairs. She’d need to pay attention to this discussion to keep up.

  Like a man used to being in charge, Luke strode to the captain’s side and ran a hand over the detailed plans. “What do we know of the damage so far?”

  The captain tapped a pen on the table in a rapid rhythm. “Obviously we haven’t been able to do a thorough analysis of the affected areas yet, but from reports the fire officers gave in their debriefing, we can make some rough guesses.”

  “Bad?” Luke asked, glancing up at the other man.

  “We don’t think any of the ship’s structure has been compromised, thanks in large part to the actions of the galley crew and the fire officers. The damage seems to be localized to Galley Two.” The captain pointed to the area on the plans. Since she wasn’t sure what to say, Della leaned over to look, despite knowing the layout of the ship like the back of her hand.

  Luke straightened and crossed his arms over his chest. “Can the other galleys take on the work of Galley Two while the repairs are carried out?”

  “With some changes to scheduling, yes.” The captain pointed out the other galleys on the plans. “And the menu options for the premium cabins can be restricted to allow their galley to take on a larger load.”

  “Excellent,” Luke said, obviously satisfied with the plan. “It’s fortunate we’re in port, so we can get access to materials and tradesmen straight away.”

  “And that both co-owners can give authorization to the expenses straight away, since this will likely exceed my budget.”

  Exceed the captain’s budget? She had no idea if the Cora Mae had more money in reserve. Why hadn’t she thought to ask that after the will reading?

  Luke moved to the other side of the table to get a closer look at something on the plan. “How soon do the fire officers expect it’ll be until we can get in to do a thorough assessment of the damage so we can make firm plans?”

  Della kept listening to the exchange among Luke, the captain and the senior crew, but her heart was sinking. Damages, repair costs and contingency plans. What did she know of such things? She knew about smoke inhalation, burns, fatigue and dehydration, but in this conversation she was completely superfluous.

  Luckily, Luke knew what he was doing. He handled the staff and the plans like a pro. Of course, he was a pro—he owned a company that operated twenty-three hotels. One incident like this wouldn’t be enough to fluster him.

  Imagine if Patrick had left a controlling interest in the Cora Mae to her? These urgent discussions would be peppered by her indecision and lack of knowledge, which could only spell disaster for the ship and her crew. She wrapped her arms tightly around her waist.

  And where would the money for the repairs come from? Her stomach lurched until she felt nauseous.

  Heart thumping against her ribs, she edged toward Luke. “Can I see you for a moment, please?”

  He nodded, though clearly distracted, then turned to the captain. “Excuse me a minute.”

  The room was big enough that they could stand in a corner and not be overheard if they kept their voices low, so they moved to the farthest point from the small group of crew.

  “What is it?” he asked, positioning himself so he could watch the others in the room over her shoulder.

  “The money.” She resisted the urge to wince, and instead stood tall, prepared to meet her responsibilities. “If this will cost more than Captain Tynan’s budget, then the expense will have to come from outside of operating costs, yes?”

  He shrugged one shoulder, seemingly unconcerned. “Insurance will cover most of it.”

  “But not all.”

  “It’s hard to say without all the information about what’s been damaged,” he said, his eyes tracking the movements of the people behind her.

  “But from your experience…” She left the sentence hanging and his gaze snapped back to her.

  He wrapped a hand around the back of his neck and let out a breath. “From my experience, there will be out-of-pocket expenses. But Marlow Hotels will cover it.”

  “You only own 50 percent of the Cora Mae,” she pointed out, “so you’re only responsible for 50 percent of her losses.”

  The door opened and the head chef, accompanied by the purser, strode across to the table covered with plans. “We’ve just had a preliminary look at Galley Two.”

  Luke glanced over, then back to Della. “Can we finish this later? I need to hear their assessment.”

  He’d said “I,” she realized with a resigned sigh. He needed to hear their assessment, not both of them. Which was so obviously true, and pretty much said it all about her potential role in this situation.

  She took a step back and pasted on a smile. “Of course. Give my apologies to the group, will you? I have to do a few things. And don’t worry about running decisions by me—you just do what you have to do.”

  Luke frowned, his mouth open as if about to say something, but she slipped out of the room before he could speak. They needed his management skills over at the table. And she needed to be anywhere but here.

  * * *

  Luke found Della on the top deck, her forearms resting on the railing, her gaze on the view of the harbor city sprawled out before them. It had been two hours since their brief discussion about the costs of repairs, and her haunted expression had been in the back of his mind ever since. It was obvious she didn’t have the money to contribute to out-of-pocket expenses, but her despondency had seemed out of proportion. Perhaps it was her exhaustion coloring her reaction, perhaps there was more to it. He needed to know.

  “Hey, I’ve been looking for you,” he said softly when he reached her side. He leaned on the railing, their shoulders brushing.

  “I’ve been here, thinking.” Her voice sounded as if it came from far away. She turned and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “You were great today.”

  He shook his head. “I only did some basic first aid. You were the one who was great.”

  “I meant after the fire.” She turned back to the view, her expression once again lost, and it nearly broke his heart.

  “That was nothing,” he said and shrugged. “Just some organizing.”

  “To you, maybe. To me it was more.”

  There was his answer—there was more to the situation. And everything inside him yearned to find a way to make it better for her. To see her happy again.

  He wrapped one of her curls around his finger. “Della, what’s going on?”

 
She turned her back to the railing and crossed her arms under her breasts. “During the fire, my role was clear. I was in charge of the first-aid station. You assisted me because I had the expertise. But the business decisions that followed were your area of expertise. You’ve lived and breathed tourism and accommodation facilities most of your life.” She paused and moistened her lips. “If I had the controlling interest, the best person wouldn’t have been making those decisions. I simply don’t have the skill set to run a ship.”

  It was what he wanted to hear, exactly the realization he’d hoped she’d come to during their time together, yet the soul-deep loss in her eyes was tearing at him. “Della—”

  She rested a finger gently on his lips. “It’s not just the decisions, although that’s enough on its own. I don’t have any available funds to cover the repairs until the insurance kicks in and the extras the insurance won’t cover. Or the money for when the next unexpected event occurs. Your company has the resources to run the ship the way it needs to be run. The Cora Mae and her crew deserve the stability that only you can provide.”

  He searched her toffee-brown eyes. “Are you saying you’ve made a decision?”

  “There’s really no decision to make—I’ll sell some or all of my share of the Cora Mae to you. You can have the controlling interest, or own it outright, whichever you prefer. You’re the best person for the ship, Luke.”

  He tightened his grip on the railing till his knuckles went white. This was no victory—he didn’t want Della to give up on her dream. Yet it was the outcome he’d been working toward. The outcome the Cora Mae needed for stability. Why did it feel so wrong?

  He released the railing and pulled her close against him, as if the contact could calm the conflicting thoughts and feelings that were thrashing through his mind and body. “We’ll talk about this in the morning. You’re exhausted, and that’s no state to be making decisions of this magnitude.”

  “I won’t change my mind,” she said, her warning tremulous.

  “Maybe not, but I refuse to negotiate with someone who’s dead on her feet.” If nothing else, he needed to be certain he hadn’t taken advantage of her state of mind. “Come back to my cabin, we’ll get something to eat, and after a good night’s sleep, we’ll sort this out.”