Cheesy, but true.

Carefully as possible, he stretched to turn off the alarm before it woke her, then pulled the sheet over her breasts so she’d stay warm. He didn’t care if he made her late. Today they’d dock in New Orleans and the trip would end. They’d resume their separate lives, connecting just as much as the curse would allow. Instinctively, he knew his time with her was finite.

Work could wait. Allie couldn’t.

Until recently he hadn’t understood guys who lost their shit over a woman. Years ago, he’d taken a date to see Jerry Maguire, that sappy-ass movie starring Tom Cruise. When the actor had uttered his famous line “You complete me” to his onscreen girlfriend, Marc had laughed out loud and suggested that Tom surrender his Man Card.

But Marc wasn’t laughing now.

The joke was on him. He never imagined a person could complete him the way Allie did. She understood his twisted family dynamic and held her own around each of his brothers—even Beau. She supported the Belle and earned the respect of guests and crew alike. She was more than just a lover, and Marc finally knew what he’d been missing all these years.

His other half.

Truth be told, that scared him. Because losing Allie would do more than hurt; it would leave him incomplete—torn and worthless. He could barely stand to think about life without her.

Reflexively, his arms tightened, rousing her from deep slumber. An adorable whine rose from her throat, and she burrowed her cheek deeper into his shoulder. Right before drifting off again, she murmured, “Love you, baby.”

Marc’s breath locked inside his throat.

Allie loved him?

Had she really meant that, or was she just talking in her sleep? And did he feel the same way? Having never been in love before, he wasn’t sure, but he couldn’t imagine feeling anything stronger than the swelling behind his ribs. He wanted to whisper it back but couldn’t manage to shake the words off his tongue.

He thought about the conversation they’d had a few nights ago in the pilothouse, how Allie had promised he wouldn’t turn out like his daddy. Part of him wanted to believe he could keep the flame alive if he tried hard enough. The other part of him warned that everyone felt that way, especially in the beginning. Nobody got married expecting to divorce.

Besides, Marc had never spent more than a few weeks with one woman. Was he capable of monogamy? He’d never forgive himself if he ran around on Allie like his father had done to every woman he’d ever “loved.”

But what if they could defy the odds? Shouldn’t he at least try to make a go of it?

Hell, he didn’t know. At this point he was thinking in circles, and he knew a better way to spend his time than brooding. He nuzzled his way to the side of Allie’s throat and woke her with openmouthed kisses, suckling the weak spot beneath her ear until she writhed against him and moaned his name.

The day could wait.

* * *

When he escorted her to the galley an hour later, Beau glanced up, his head covered in a ridiculous do-rag. He frowned and pointed an egg at Marc. “You made my pastry chef late, Captain.”

Marc grinned at him. “My apologies, Chef. I can personally guarantee that it won’t happen again.”

“Yeah,” Beau grumbled. “Only because we dock before lunch.”

Beau cracked the egg against his stainless steel bowl and began whisking in a blur of movement, but amusement sparked behind his eyes. And he wasn’t the only one.

It seemed the entire staff wore a collective smile this morning in anticipation of returning home. The lone man out, Marc didn’t want the voyage to end.

But he gave himself a mental kick in the pants and remembered his duties. If he didn’t make his guests feel special, they might spend their future vacation dollars elsewhere. With a nod good-bye at Allie, Marc left to make his rounds.

He’d just crossed the lobby when a flash of metal caught his eye. A quick glance over his shoulder showed the Gibsons approaching from the stairs. The bride beamed brighter than her glinting lip rings and tackle-hugged him.

“Thank you,” she spoke into his lapels as her arms squeezed his waist. “I can’t tell you how much that book meant to me.”

Marc didn’t have the foggiest idea what she was talking about, but he patted her shoulder and played it cool. “My pleasure. I hope you had a nice honeymoon.”

“The best,” she said, gazing at her husband. “We’ll be back for our anniversary.”

That was exactly what Marc wanted to hear. The newlyweds drifted toward the outside deck, allowing him to continue to the service desk.

Ella-Claire dashed around the counter when she spotted him and threw both arms around his neck. Folks sure were in a hugging mood today.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

She clucked her tongue at him. “Can’t a sister be proud? You officially rocked your first trip as captain.”

A prideful smile lifted his lips. “I wouldn’t say I rocked it . . .”

“Don’t be modest.” Ella straightened his tie and brushed a bit of lint off his jacket. “It wasn’t all smooth sailing, but you handled everything like a pro. You were born to do this, Marc.”

He shrugged her off and gave another grin. “At least I didn’t sink us.”

“There you go again with the modesty.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, then linked their arms and led him toward the counter. “And I know it’s none of my business, but I think there’s another reason you’ve looked so happy lately. . . .” Her voice trailed off, thick with romantic implications.

Marc didn’t bother to deny it, but he didn’t take the bait either. Not that his silence stopped Ella from meddling.

“Can I give you some sisterly advice?” she asked, blinking those big blue eyes at him.

“Fine.”

Ella took his face between her palms. “Allie’s good for you. I like her. Don’t mess it up.”

Marc sniffed a laugh. She made it sound so easy. “Is that all?”

“Listen,” she said, “once we get home, it’ll be easy to slip back into old habits. If Allie’s important to you, then tell her. Make her a priority. Because as much as you love the Belle, this boat won’t grow old with you or care for you when you’re sick.”

“I’ve got health insurance, and the Belle’s already old. She’ll outlive us all.”

Ella-Claire frowned at him. “You know what I mean.”

Yeah, Marc understood what she meant. “I know.”

“So talk to her,” Ella pleaded. She tapped him on the cheek. “It wouldn’t kill you to make a commitment, either. Prove that you want her—make a grand gesture. Every woman wants to feel wanted.”

“Deep thoughts,” Marc teased. “You’re a real Plato.”

Ella shoved him, knocking him back a step. “Don’t be an ass.”

Marc drew her in and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. Ella was a sweetheart, even if she was bossy. “I’ll do my best.”

He spent the next several hours laughing and schmoozing, but his brain had one foot out the door. His sister was right. When they docked in New Orleans, Allie would tow her little wheeled suitcase back to her camelback store, and he’d sleep alone tonight.

Marc frowned.

He didn’t want to sleep alone. He’d grown accustomed to the warmth of Allie’s body draped across his, the soothing rise and fall of her chest, and the scents of sugared vanilla and sex on his sheets. Of course he’d keep seeing her, but at this point, dating would be a step backward.

Ella had said he should make a grand gesture. Maybe he should ask Allie to move in with him—they’d practically lived together these past couple of weeks anyhow. It seemed sudden, not to mention a little terrifying, but the more Marc thought about it, the more he liked the idea. An excited flutter tickled his stomach when he pictured Allie moving in her things, filling his closet with her pretty sundresses and his bureau with her lingerie—even that silly polka-dot nightgown she’d worn last week.

Yes, he decided. He’d ask her to live with him. It seemed like the right move.

* * *

The afternoon passed slower than a geriatric slug. Marc found himself growing more nervous with each minute, and by the time the guests departed and he dismissed the nonessential staff, he had to run upstairs to change his sweaty shirt.

He damn near had a heart attack when he noticed Allie had cleared out all her bottles and tubes of girlie products from his bathroom. She wouldn’t leave without saying good-bye, would she?

Buttoning his shirt as he went, he tore down the hallway to the stairwell, then rushed to her room on the third floor. He knocked several times, but she didn’t answer.

“She’s gone,” said a maid working in the adjacent room. The woman pointed toward the opposite stairs. “But you can probably catch her.”

While jogging down the hallway, Marc replayed their morning together to see if he’d done something to upset Allie, but he came up empty. There was no reason for her to rush off like this.

Eventually, he found her stacking her bags on the deck near the bow ramp.

“Hey,” he called.

She turned and greeted him with a warm smile, and Marc released the breath he’d been holding. In three quick strides, he joined her, settling both palms around her waist without a care for the stragglers looking on. Let them gawk. He wanted everyone to know Allie belonged to him.

She shielded her eyes from the afternoon sun and settled a hand on his chest. “Miss me already?”

“You weren’t going to sneak off, were you?”

“Of course not,” she said. “I was just getting my bags together; then I figured I should get out of your way.”