Dreamboat (The Hawthornes of New York #3)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

Delia

“Would you care for a glass of champagne, Miss Hawthorne?”

I’m a lifelong New Yorker, so alarm bells start ringing in my head when I hear a stranger say my name.

It takes me no more than a millisecond to quiet that down because the passenger ID badge with my name and picture printed on the front of it is dangling between my breasts from a royal blue lanyard.

It wouldn’t be my first choice of an accessory for the red and white sundress I’m wearing, but it’s a necessary part of my ensemble for the ‘ meet and greet ’ portion of my evening.

“Sure,” I volley back with a slight smile.

When my younger brother handed me the information packet for this cruise along with a half-hearted “Happy Birthday, Delia,” I was stunned.

I’ve never told Callum that I wanted to go on a cruise to the Caribbean because I didn’t, but he saw fit to buy me a ticket complete with meals and drinks so I could spend five days on the ocean with several hundred people I’ve never met.

The server hands me a tall crystal flute filled with a blush pink bubbly liquid. “Here you go, Miss Hawthorne.”

“It’s Delia,” I tell him as I trade him the champagne for one of the five dollar bills I have tucked in the pocket of my dress.

During the flight from New York City to Miami, I looked up ship tipping etiquette online because the last thing I want to be is someone who doesn’t know the unspoken rules of the sea.

The results of that search were mixed.

Some cruisers on the forum I found wrote that it’s unnecessary to tip on an all-exclusive package, while others commented to tip to your heart’s content.

My heart is telling me that it can’t be all fun and games to handle overzealous passengers and everything that comes with that.

“Wow,” he mutters under his breath. “Thank you. I’m Clever, by the way.”

“Are you now?” I grin as I down half the champagne in one gulp.

“That’s my name,” he further explains to chase away my assumption that he’s clever in a smart kind of way.

“Your name is Clever?” I spit out before I raise the glass to my lips again.

His blue eyes are a perfect complement to his scruffy blond hair.

That online forum I scanned also had a section for anonymous cruise confessions. Let’s just say that it’s not unheard of for the staff to indulge in a little extra fun with the passengers.

It’s going to be a never for Clever and me, though.

I’m not looking for a hook up on this trip. I’m here to enjoy the sun and the two Caribbean ports that promise delicious treats and white sandy beaches that stretch on for miles.

This is the first time I’ve ever taken a vacation alone, and although I’m still reluctant to be here, carving five days out of my life for nothing but relaxation may be just what I need.

“It’s cool, right?” His perfectly straight white teeth gleam bright as he smiles. “My real name is Marvin, but I’m a magician in training. Clever sounds better on stage.”

“You’re a magician?” I ask before finishing the champagne. “How long have you been doing that?”

Without questioning me, he plucks the empty flute from my fingers and replaces it with a full one from the circular tray he’s been balancing on one palm.

I tried waiting tables once years ago. Carrying a tray with more than an empty plate and fork was beyond my skillset, so I was unceremoniously fired partway through my first shift.

“Two years.” He nods. “So I was nineteen when I started. I want my name to be lighting up the Vegas strip by the time I’m twenty-five.”

“You’ll do it,” I say to encourage him because who doesn’t occasionally need to hear that someone has blind faith in them?

His smile widens even more. “Thanks, Delia.”

I sip my champagne while he looks me over. “My shift is over at eleven. We could meet up for more champagne if you want.”

“I’m thirty-one,” I blurt out for some reason.

Clever nods. “Good to know, but age is only a number. Let’s just say I showed some magic to a passenger celebrating her forty-eighth birthday last week, and she’s already booked herself in to sail my way again.”

I can’t help but smile. “I’ll pass on the private magic show.”

“I get it.” He glances toward two women chatting it up near us in this piano bar. “You’ve got someone special waiting for you at home, right?”

I’ve got an empty apartment and a monumental decision waiting for me at my home in Manhattan.

“If you change your mind, I’ll be around,” he promises with an exaggerated wink of his left eye. “A cruise is a place to toss your inhibitions into the sea. No one will know what you do on this ship.”

I contemplate those words as I sip more champagne.

He steps toward me as if he’s going to brush past me, but as soon as he’s beside me, I feel his breath tease the shell of my ear. “Or who you do, beautiful.”

With that, he wanders off.

I finish my bubbly and twirl in a circle, searching for a spot to leave my empty glass.

That concern evaporates as the champagne flute slips from my hand to shatter into a million sharp shards on the polished tile floor.

I gasp, and it’s not from the glass raining down on my open-toed sandals.

Standing less than two feet from me is Dr. Donovan Hunt.

He’s one of the busiest veterinarians in New York City. His smile can and has stopped plenty of traffic, and he’s been the star of many of my fantasies since I first realized he existed.

He also happens to be my older brother’s boss, and before this moment, a virtual stranger to me since we’ve never officially met.

“Delia Hawthorne.” My name comes out of him wrapped in a low growl that sends my imagination into overdrive. “Let me get you out of here.”

I don’t bother asking how or when that’s happening because he answers both silently when he stalks toward me.

The glass crunches under his black dress shoes. I pull my gaze up to notice the dark blue pants and white button-down shirt he’s wearing. It’s open at the collar, revealing just the right amount of tanned chest beneath.

Just as he lifts me into his arms like a bride, he smiles. If that’s not enough to overwhelm my senses, the scent of his cologne hits me and it’s intoxicating.

“I shouldn’t be surprised that all eyes on this cruise are on you,” he says, his voice a decadent treat to my ears. “You’re the most stunning woman here.”

I pinch my arm to make sure this isn’t another of the wine-fueled dreams I often have after I study the pictures on his social media profiles before bed.

“Are you all right, Delia?” Clever suddenly appears out of nowhere. “Your toe is bleeding, so you need to see the ship’s doctor.”

I don’t look for evidence of that myself because the sight of blood makes me queasy.

“I’m fine,” I tell him, holding back from asking him to disappear like a good magician would. “It’s nothing.”

Dr. Hunt stops to assess my foot with a glance toward it. “I believe it’s the ship’s policy for any injured guest to be looked at by a doctor. You should have it checked out.”

I want to suggest he do the checking since he is a doctor, but I’m well aware that his patients generally have four legs and are covered in fur, feathers, or scales.

“I can take her from here.” Clever holds out his arms as if he’s waiting for a big bag of potatoes to be dropped into them.

“I’ve got her,” Donovan assures him. “Tell me where to find the doctor.”

“No.” Clever shakes his head and fists his outstretched hands. “I’ll take her.”

I wiggle slightly because I feel less like a damsel in distress and more like the prize in a pissing match. “I can stand on my own.”

Donovan gently sets me down, wrapping an arm around my waist. “Lean on me if you need to, Delia.”

Need or want?

I keep that question to myself and smile up at him. Still stunned that he’s on this cruise, I shake my head slightly.

“Wait.” He sucks in a deep breath. “I’m assuming you’re aware of who I am. You followed me on Instagram a while ago. I followed back. I’m…”

“Dr. Donovan Hunt,” I finish his introduction for him. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”