Page 60 of Fire and Ice Cruise

Ransom shifts beside me, his warmth cutting through the chill. “Beautiful.”

“Beautiful lights,” I agree, watching another ripple of green cascade across the sky.

“Those, too.” He presses a kiss to my temple, and the cold air can’t touch me after that.

A staff member circulates with a tray of hot chocolate—the real kind, with whipped cream and chocolate shavings on top. I take one gratefully and let the heat seep into my frozen fingers.

I spot Wes making his way through the lounge chairs, stopping to chat with passengers, playing the perfect captain role even at midnight when he should probably be sleeping or preventing us from slicing through an iceberg. He’s wearing his uniform jacket over what looks like jeans—off-duty casual—and he looks more relaxed than I’ve seen him in days.

He reaches our little cluster and nods at the sky. “Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it?”

“It sure makes murder seem especially petty,” I agree.

“That’s one way to look at it.” He glances around our group, his gaze sweeping past Bess and Nettie, landing on the empty chair beside me. “Where’s Marina?”

I bite back a smile because I happen to adore the way he’s fallen under her spell.

“I invited her to join us for dinner and the show,” I say. “But she wanted some alone time.”

Something moves across his face in the green-gold light of the aurora, and I can’t decide if it’s disappointment or concern, which under normal lighting would be two very different expressions but here, in the dark, look remarkably similar.

“Right. Of course.” He clears his throat. “Well, I have the day off tomorrow. I’m headed to the Blue Lagoon once we dock in Reykjavik. You’re all welcome to join me. My treat.”

Bess sits up so fast her blanket nearly slides off. “The Blue Lagoon? The actual Blue Lagoon?”

“The very one.” Wes’s smile returns. “Hot springs, spa treatments, the whole nine-heated yards. I figured we could all use some relaxation.”

“Things are about to get heated in the land of fire and ice,” Nettie announces, way too loudly.

Wes laughs. “So you’ll come?”

“Absolutely,” I say, already imagining myself floating in hot volcanic water while Iceland’s landscape does its dramatic thing around us. “We’re in.”

“I’m in for anything with the word lagoon in it,” Nettie says. “Lagoons equal men in swimming trunks and that’s something I can get behind.”

Ransom catches Wes’s eye and gives him a subtle nod—the kind of look men share when they’re asking questions without words.

Wes shakes his head. Just barely.

Ransom’s jaw tightens.

My heart drops somewhere around my shoes.

Wes was asking about Ransom’s reinstatement? And the answer was clearly no?

Not yet. Maybe not ever. My husband—brilliant, capable, dedicated Ransom, who lives for his job—is still persona non grata with corporate.

The northern lights continue their celestial dance overhead, beautiful and indifferent to all the human drama below.

Passengers ooh and ahh. Someone starts singing something romantic and off-key. The hot chocolate is perfect, the desserts are divine, and the moment should be magical.

But all I can think about is that Ransom belongs on the other side of this investigation and instead he’s sitting here watching the sky with me.

I squeeze his hand and he squeezes back—brief, tight, and what feels like grateful.

Wes excuses himself with a quiet, “See you tomorrow,” and drifts back into the crowd of passengers as he wishes them all a goodnight.

“He’s a good man,” Bess says softly, once Wes is out of earshot.