Tinsley’s clipboard slips through her fingers. Bess completely abandons her male-oriented boycott to stare. And Elodie’s pale blue eyes grow wide with naughty potential.
“Captain,” Tinsley purrs. “I may need to reconsider myno workplace relationshipspolicy,” she muses. “Some things are worth getting fired over, and I’d say Dr. Carrington’s bedside manner deserves a thorough evaluation.”
My mouth falls open just hearing it. Tinsley is typically strait-laced and sticks to the books when it comes to the rules. But then,the ship is about to be overrun with some serious soap hunks. I can’t blame her for throwing both her employment status and all caution to the wind.
I’m about to say something when my attention gets hijacked in the most dramatic way possible.
Standing just behind the trio of soap divas is a woman in a flowing emerald green evening gown with shoulder pads the size of a small aircraft carrier, and slowly she steps into view. I’d recognize that dark blonde hair and those piercing green eyes anywhere—eyes that don’t just scan a room, but assess it for lighting, leverage, and applause.
“Oh my goodness,” I cry out without meaning to. “It’s Marlie Rothschild, the original Victoria Darkmore, here and in the flesh!” I give Ransom’s arm a tug without taking my eyes off of her. “She’s the woman whose dramatic hospital bed scenes got me through three bouts of flu and one particularly nasty breakup in college. The actress whose trademark hair flip I practiced in my bathroom mirror for weeks!”
“I can’t believe she’s here, live and in person,” Bess says, craning her neck. “Where is she?”
“The queen of daytime drama herself?” Nettie cries with delight as she, too, cranes her neck trying to catch a glimpse among the army of passengers storming the ship. “I lived for her famous ballroom confrontation scenes! I hadn’t realized she was still working onThe Bitter and the Beautiful. I thought she’d moved on to bigger projects years ago. Heck, I thought she was dead.”
“Welcome, ladies,” Wes intercepts the trio of women with a solemn nod, despite the fact he’s fighting a smile. “Perhaps we should let you board so you can get settled before filming begins?”
“Oh, sweet heavens.” Nettie grabs my arm hard enough to leave marks. “Trixie. BESS. Look who’s behind them.”
“I said I’m not looking at any more men—OH MY WORD.”Bess abandons her man boycott faster than a cat ditching a bathtub.
Four men swagger through the entrance, and I swear the collective swooning could power the ship all the way to Norway without fuel.
“Victor Darkmore!” Nettie shrieks. “I used to fake the stomach flu to watch him steal companiesandwives onThe Bitter and the Beautiful!”
“That’s not Victor. That’s Dirk Rothschild,” Elodie corrects, suddenly interested. “Madison’s husband. He just plays Victor on TV.”
“He’ll always be Hunka Hunka Victor to me,” Nettie shoots back.
“And to me,” I say with a sigh, and Ransom inches back to get a better look at his quickly unraveling wife.
Elodie straightens. “Wait just a soapy minute. Is that Santino DiAngelo?” Tinsley’s professional composure cracks once more. “FromDays of Our Nights? My mom recorded every episode on VHS. And boy, did I ever watch them. Sometimes twice.”
“His third resurrection was the best,” I admit, because we all have our guilty pleasures. I may have watched a few episodes twice as well.
“And there’s Lance Williams!” Bess calls out, forgetting all about her boycott. “He plays Dr. Luca Carrington Jr. Oh, that man delivered half the babies in Evergreen Valley while shirtless.” She swoons just thinking about it.
And I swoon just thinking about those abs! I cringe a little as I look at Ransom and quickly mouth the wordsorry.
The platinum blonde, Madison, gives a snide smile our way. “Cool it, girls. Those men are taken.”
“Oh, so are we,” I say, circling my arms around my lethallyhandsome husband.
“Speak for yourself,” Nettie gravels it out, and suddenly, I’m fearing for every man on this ship.
Marlie moves closer to the other women, watching Madison with what looks like amused tolerance. There’s something oddly familiar about the way Madison holds herself—almost like she’s channeling Marlie’s famous ram-rod straight posture.
But Madison is too busy scrolling through her phone to notice those around her. She stops cold at something and gasps before a shrill scream escapes her.
Marlie rolls her eyes at the woman. “She’s always so dramatic.”
And just like that, I know this cruise to Norway is about to become a lot more interesting than fjords and midnight sun. And perhaps more dramatic than all three of those aforementioned soap operas combined.
Because if there’s one thing more dramatic than a ship full of soap opera stars, it’s a ship full of soap opera stars with real-life rivalries simmering beneath the surface—and everyone knows a good rivalry can be murder.
Bring on the bonbons. Something tells me we’re going to need them.
CHAPTER 2
