Page 58 of The Cruise Club

Carmen scribbled down the name of the author. ‘A book I should read?’ she asked.

‘Absolutely, it’s a guide to living a more creative life.’

For the next three hours, Carmen was hooked as Ruskin explained how to structure her novel and build a framework from which to work. His calm yet commanding voice made the complexities of plotting feel surprisingly easy, explaining that time invested now would save countless hours of frustration later. Carmen’s nerves were replaced with excitement as her story began to take on a new shape.

When Ruskin finally stood and showed her out of the suite, Carmen knew she was beginning to find the tools she needed. More than that, she was starting to believe in herself.

‘Remember,’ he said, his hand resting on the doorframe, ‘an author’s greatest asset is persistence. Keep going, and the magic will happen, even on difficult days.’ As he closed the door, he called out, ‘Same time tomorrow!’

Carmen moved through the ship, clutching her bag. As she made her way to her cabin, she realised that not only did she have a new plan for her novel, but the fear of the blank page returning was replaced now by determination. Ruskin was the inspiration she’d hoped for. Butterflies were dancing in her stomach, and she felt almost lightheaded.

But as she skipped down the stairs, Carmen thought of how she’d felt when Ruskin leaned over her shoulder to study her screen, his warm breath a whisper on her skin, as though an electric current had surged through her body, igniting every nerve. His cologne was intoxicating, the rich leathery scent sparking a craving she couldn’t explain. When his hand stretched out to study her notes, she almost reached out to grab it, caught up in a longing so intense she’d had to look away.

‘What on earth is happening to me?’Carmen murmured as she opened the door to her room.

She hesitated in the doorway, gripping the handle as a familiar ache stirred. It had been years since she had allowed herself to feel this way about a man.

And yet, here she was. Feeling something again.

The feelings for Ruskin that were bouncing around her body felt like a game of ping-pong, each jolt reminding her now, that even in her fifties, romance might not be dead.

A knock on the wall made Carmen flinch. It was followed by Betty’s screeching voice.

‘CARMEN! Are you there?’

Carmen closed her eyes, ignoring Betty’s call. She must shake off her stupid crush. A man like Ruskin would never look her way. He was generous enough to be a mentor but anything more was too absurd to imagine. She shook her head to clear the foolish thoughts cluttering her mind.

There was only one priority to focus on. It was time to write.

Ruskin sat on his balcony and browsed the day’s excursions in theDiamond Star Daily News. He toyed with a visit to St John’s Cathedral with its opulent baroque interior and considered a taxi ride to Mdina, known as the silent city, which was surrounded by mysterious medieval walls housing dark and narrow streets. He also felt like a leisurely swim and considered visiting the clear waters of St George’s Bay, but a tour of Valletta might be more promising. Unable to make up his mind, Ruskin found that his thoughts kept straying to Carmen.

It had been an easy decision to mentor the writer – after all, it was good to give something back. In the early days of his writing career, no one had helped Ruskin. With Venetia immersed in her make-believe world and uninterested in anything he did, support had been thin on the ground. While working full time in banking, he’d stolen hours whenever he could to write a story that had been building in his mind for many years. It was damn hard work, but with his gritty determination, he created Detective Inspector Blake. Thefictional detective had been his passport to quitting the rat race of high finance where the hours were endless, the suits were sharp, and the smiles fake. No longer a cog in the relentless banking machine, as a successful author he had the freedom in his writing world to steer his own career.

Ruskin knew nothing about Carmen, but his intuition told him she was unhappy. With a demanding parent, her escape was through the page, and it was to her credit that her debut novel was a success. It was well written with many clever plot twists. He’d mentored writers in the past, and it gave him great satisfaction to see them benefit from his advice. A few hours each day on the remainder of this cruise came at no cost to himself, and the writing reward for Carmen could be fruitful.

But there was something else troubling Ruskin.

Details he’d overlooked were suddenly clear. Having previously dismissed Carmen as dowdy, her transformation had shaken him when she walked into the piano bar. After his messy divorce, Ruskin had vowed to give himself time and not get romantically involved. But there was something in the way Carmen tilted her head when she considered his questions and the warmth of the smile that lit up her face. Her heavy-rimmed glasses had a hint of allure, drawing his attention to her beautiful hazel eyes. Leaning in to study her screen, he’d caught the scent of her skin and the softness of her hair and longed to reach out and caress her.

Carmen was, in truth, quite captivating. The way she tilted her head, her laugh, and how she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear while she worked, unaware of her attractiveness, which made her even more appealing. Ruskinfelt a stab of guilt for his shallowness and the superficial lens through which he’d viewed her before. His determination to be impartial to romance was crumbling, but more worrying was that he knew she would never feel the same about someone who’d failed to see her worth all along.

How could he have been so blind? Since his divorce, Ruskin had created an armour, a shield against the vulnerability of love. But now, something about Carmen was melting it and his defences had begun to unravel.

With a heavy sigh, Ruskin carefully folded theDiamond Star Daily News, and resolved that the only way to find something to occupy his restless spirit was to get dressed and leave the ship.

Stepping into his suite, he saw Fernando, a cabin steward, clearing away the breakfast debris.

‘I knocked…’ Fernando began.

‘It’s all right, I was outside on the balcony,’ Ruskin said.

Fernando smiled as he carried a laden tray and moved towards the door. ‘A day full of sunshine awaits, enjoy!’

Grateful for the warmth in Fernando’s words, Ruskin smiled back. ‘Indeed,’ he agreed, ‘it’s time to write a new page.’

Chapter Twenty-Four

‘Everyone! The walking tour of the city is this way!’

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