GAVIN GRAY DRESSED for dinner carefully. It had been a tremendous relief to see Mrs. Watkins totter off the ship this morning, still wildly protesting the loss of her million-dollar bracelet. She had posted a reward of fifty thousand dollars, which had every steward, waiter and lackey walking around the ship with their eyes peeled, like a collection of hopeful lottery players waiting for their numbers to come up.

Don’t waste your time, he had thought. I’m going to be the million-dollar winner. But there won’t be any press conference to announce it. He deplored those idiotic television appearances of lottery winners surrounded by long-lost relatives with howdy-doody grins.

There was, of course, the obstacle of retrieving the bracelet from the Camelot Suite. He had already found out that a Lady Veronica Exner and her female companion would be staying there. It was good news that it was to be occupied by two women. The fear had lurked in the back of his mind that it would be inhabited on this crossing by a honeymooning couple who wouldn’t come up for air until the skyline of New York City was in sight. But two women . . .He’d probably end up dancing with them anyway.

The first night out meant informal dress. Gavin laid out a pale yellow linen jacket and white slacks. His tie in place to his satisfaction, he pulled on his jacket and studied himself in the full-length mirror. Not bad, he reasoned. The facelift he’d had two years ago was still holding up. In fact, it looked even better. That bargain-rate plastic surgeon had pulled the skin around his eyes so tight he could have blinded himself with dental floss.

The jacket hid his thickening waistline. Then he frowned. Its lemon-yellow tone accentuated the orangish shade of his just-colored hair. The girl at the salon on two deck had been too busy gossiping about the missing bracelet to notice the timer on the dryer had gone off. Gavin had dozed and by the time he woke up the dye had been on an extra twenty minutes. I look like a pumpkin head, he thought angrily. Oh shit, forget it. Next week I’ll go to my hairdresser in New York. With that thought, a wave of anxiety washed over him. He was not booked as a host again until September. If he didn’t retrieve the bracelet in these next few days, he wouldn’t have another chance.

As he headed for the door of the cabin, he felt the undulating movement of the ship accelerate. Was it going to be another rough crossing? Then Gavin smiled. If so, maybe Lady Veronica Exner or her companion would need a steady arm to guide them back to the Camelot Suite.

Chapter 13