Page 25 of Hearts Aweigh
She closed her eyes. “Dear Lord, we thank you for giving us a sunny day and healthy bodies to enjoy it. Please bless this food—”
“And remove the calories,” Spencer said.
“Bless Grandma Daisy and her friends.”
“Keep them from stirring up any more trouble, Lord.”
She dug her nails into his palm, and he jerked away. Abby finished her prayer. “And please help the foolish people who can’t see your love at work in our lives come to know you better.”
“Amen.” Spencer massaged his skin. “Who knew praying over food could be dangerous?”
The truth in his words hit him upside the head. This was the second time in the space of ten minutes he’d been unnecessarily close with his employee. Why couldn’t he keep his hands to himself?
God, don’t let me turn out like my father.
His mind formed the desperate prayer. For years, he’d witnessed his sire treat female employees like they were his own personal playthings.
Julius Masterson had flirted with some and carried on actual affairs with others.
Although Daisy never once mentioned her husband’s philandering in Spencer’s presence, she must have known.
Daisy.
She was the reason for this crazy cruise in the first place. Forget the appealing redhead and keep your eye on the target. He heard the waiter approach the table. “Bring me the pan-seared salmon.”
“Sorry, dear,” a sweet voice replied. “I don’t work here.”
At his elbow, he found not the waiter but one of his mother’s friends. The short one with the springy hair. She wore a thick cream cardigan with a flowered print blouse and a pair of khaki pants.
“Emily!” Abby jumped up and gave her a hug.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt you.” She urged Abby back to her seat and gestured to her own outfit.
“I’m not dressed for the Trafalgar. The ma?tre d’ wanted to refuse me entry but didn’t dare.
He’s been after the Shippers to set him up with the pretty fitness director.
I keep telling him one client at a time.
Speaking of clients”—she grimaced at Abby—“it appears our first option isn’t panning out, but we have an alternate ready.
How would you like to eat lunch with this restaurant’s new sous chef while the ship is in port tomorrow? ”
“Sous chef?” Abby bounced in her seat. “Is he the guy with the silky blond hair all the housekeepers swoon over?”
“One and the same. His name is Cedric. He wasn’t one of our original prospects, but everyone on the kitchen staff speaks well of him, and he’s expressed an interest in you.”
Abby’s delighted squeal told Spencer her reply.
Before she could speak, he interrupted. “I’m sorry, but I need Ms. O’Brien’s help tomorrow.
I plan to take Madeleine for”—he regarded his daughter, who was playing with her family of swans—“some recreation. Ms. O’Brien must choose an age-appropriate activity and accompany us. ”
A pout formed on Abby’s lips. “Sorry, Mrs. Windsor. Romance will have to wait.”
“No matter, dear.” Emily rubbed her hands together. “I checked with the first mate, and we don’t leave port until ten o’clock tomorrow night. How about a romantic walk on the beach with Cedric after your charge has gone to bed?”
Spencer’s gaze darted to Abby, who sprang from her seat and wrapped the older woman in another hug. Her joyful laugh enlivened the restaurant’s solemn atmosphere.
“That sounds amazing,” Abby said. “I owe you and the Shippers a million thank-you notes.”
Emily patted her. “Completely unnecessary. Your happiness is what matters. Besides”—the matchmaker’s face stiffened—“I have my fill of notes to deal with at present.”
The cryptic comment didn’t escape Spencer’s notice. He studied the woman as she bid them goodbye and exited the restaurant. Even people in their seventies might have underhanded tendencies. Who exactly were these Shippers? Could they be trusted not to take advantage of his mother?
Spencer eyed Abby, who sat in a dreamy coma, her attention pointed at the waves outside the window. He cleared his throat with all the subtlety of a muscle car’s engine.
She jolted. “Oops.” Her voice sounded the tiniest bit breathless. “What were we discussing? Oh, right. What did you mean by ‘recreation’?”
Spencer employed the silence technique as he took a long drink of water from his glass.
Truth be told, he had no idea what they were doing or why.
He’d made the suggestion on the spur of the moment because Emily Windsor was offering another marriage candidate to Abby.
What did his new nanny truly know about these ladies?
It was dangerous, yielding such an important decision as marriage to them.
He knew from firsthand experience the soul-crushing tribulation of divorce, and he owed it to his employee to look after her.
Spencer swallowed. “You’re the one who pointed out a cruise was for relaxation. I’ve decided to spend time with my daughter in a frivolous, noneducational activity.”
“Excellent decision.” She gave him an approving nod. “But where do you want to go? Were you planning to visit a resort at the next port?”
“As to that”—he crossed his arms—“I’d prefer to stay aboard, but I’m unfamiliar with what the ship offers. I assume you must be well-versed in its attractions. What would Madeleine enjoy the most?”
His daughter knocked a swan off the table with her elbow. “Oops!” She bent over the arm of her chair. “I can’t reach.”
Abby retrieved the napkin and returned it to her. “She liked the splash pad. I bet she’d adore the kiddie pool. It has slides and fountains and everything.”
“More water activities?” Spencer cringed. “Isn’t there any recreation that would allow us to remain dry?”
“Don’t worry.” She laughed. “I’ll be Maddie’s lifeguard. You can stay on solid ground, far away from the pool.” Abby wrinkled her nose. “Just don’t wear a suit.”
Her skin folded in mischievous crinkles between her green eyes.
A smattering of light freckles dusted the spot.
He forced himself to look away and took another drink of water.
As an employer, he was protecting Abigail O’Brien from making bad matrimonial choices arranged by an opinionated group of golden-girl matchmakers.
But was that his only reason? He shoved away the suspicion that a tinge of jealousy colored his motivation.
Business. That’s all this was.