Page 41 of Ship Happens

For the next hour, we review the ship’s environmental policies. Harper is thorough, her criticisms fair and her praise—whengiven—genuine. Despite the tension between us, I’m impressed by her knowledge and attention to detail. Nothing gets past her, every loophole we have exploited she points it out.

“Your water conservation plan is quite innovative,” she admits as we conclude the review. “Especially the gray water recycling for deck cleaning and laundry.”

“Thank you. It was an expensive retrofit, but worth it.”

“Why didn’t you publicize it? It’s the kind of initiative that would counter criticism.”

I shrug. “We implemented it because it was the right thing to do, not for publicity.”

She looks surprised by this answer. “That’s very unlike you, not using the positive PR to spin things your way.”

“I’m still full of surprises, Dr. Bennett.”

Her lips curve in a small smile. “Apparently so, Mr. Cole.”

Using our formal titles feels like a private joke now, given how intimately we know each other. The tension shifts subtly, warming with pleasure.

“About tonight,” I say, changing the subject before we get distracted. “The stargazing event includes dinner on the beach, followed by an astronomy talk. Will you join me, or are you still checking your schedule?”

She hesitates, then nods. “I’ll join you. For research, of course.”

“Of course. Purely professional interest in how couples’ activities affect the environment.”

“Exactly.”

The spark of humor in her eyes belies her serious tone. For a moment, I’m tempted to lock the office door and remind her just how unprofessional our relationship has become. But her earlier boundary-setting deserves my respect, so I nod and step back.

“I’ll pick you up at 7:30. Dress warmly—the beach gets cool after sunset.”

“I’ll be ready.”

As I leave the environmental office, I can’t help feeling that we’ve reached some kind of turning point. The passion of this morning has given way to complications. Tomorrow’s inspection might well determine not just the environmental status of the ship, but how things end between Harper and me.

I return to my suite to get ready for the evening, my mind cycling through possibilities. If there is a problem with the waste management, it needs to be addressed—not just for Harper’s expose, but because it’s the right thing to do. If there isn’t a problem, then maybe we can salvage this connection.

Either way, I find myself unwilling to dismiss what’s happening between us as a temporary cruise ship romance. It feels like so much more than that.

At 7:30, I knock on Harper’s door. She opens wearing jeans and a light sweater, her hair loose around her shoulders, a jacket draped over her arm. She looks beautiful in the simple outfit, more like herself than in any of the fancy clothing she’s been forced to wear.

“Ready for some stargazing?” I ask, offering my arm.

“As ready as I’ll ever be for another manufactured romantic moment,” she replies, but accepts my arm.

“Think of it as an astronomical education with benefits,” I suggest as we walk toward the elevators. “The wildlife trust that owns the island has strict light pollution policies. The star visibility is spectacular.”

“That sounds nice,” she admits. “I haven’t stargazed since a research trip to the Galapagos three years ago.”

“No romantic stargazing in your regular life, Dr. Bennett?” I tease.

“Shockingly few opportunities for romance when you’re publishing papers criticizing major corporations. It is such a turn on, I have to chase the men away.”

“Their loss.”

She glances at me, a hint of vulnerability in her eyes. “Smooth talker.”

“I’m only stating facts.”

We join other couples boarding small boats to the island. The sunset paints the sky in dramatic oranges and pinks as we approach the shore, where torches illuminate a path leading to the beach. Staff members escort couples to blankets arranged on the sand, each with a small picnic basket and a telescope.

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