“Well,” Zane said, leaning back comfortably. “Isn"t this schmanzy.”
“You"re such a cynic,” Ty accused under his breath.
“Why do you say that?” Zane asked curiously as he looked around them again. He had to admit that the decor was tasteful. Just upscale, which he"d learned a long time ago didn"t necessarily mean you were getting your money"s worth.
Ty pointed out the window at the last brilliant rays of sun as it faded below the horizon. The pale blue sky was streaked with pinks and oranges and one splash of brilliant crimson. “That is free,” Ty said quietly.
Zane nodded slowly. Every once in a while, Ty came out with one of these comments that really made Zane step back and appreciate what he had. Right now, he definitely included Ty in that tally. “It"s gorgeous. We should see about eating dinner on our balcony sometime.” Their suite was on the starboard side, so they could get some sunsets all to themselves, if they wanted.
Ty smiled, but it was a melancholy one wholly uncharacteristic of him. Zane watched him for a long moment, and then he reached out to cover Ty"s hand on the table with his own. “You okay?” he asked quietly.
“Just trying to remind myself not to get too comfortable.”
“It"s okay to enjoy yourself,” Zane answered, phrasing his words carefully. “We"ve got two weeks here. Busy and eventful weeks, but two of them. To ourselves, mostly.”
“We don"t have anything to ourselves until we"ve done our job,”
Ty reminded softly. His voice was even, not at all bitter or resigned like it might have been. But there was something beneath it that was hard to identify.
“We"re together,” was Zane"s simple answer.
Ty"s lips compressed as he continued to hold Zane"s gaze across the table, and his eyes warmed like he was trying to hide his amusement. It was enough. Zane would rather see humor at his expense in Ty"s eyes than any kind of pain.
“So. Want to look at the specials?” he asked as he held up the card. Ty snorted and snatched the card out of Zane"s hand, flipping it over to peruse it with pursed lips. The melancholy was gone, replaced by his usual unique style of bravado. Zane pulled one of the full menus closer. “Anything look good?”
Ty didn"t respond for a moment, and when he did, his voice was totally devoid of inflection. “I see fish. And more fish. And oh look, shrimp. With fish.”
Zane opened the menu and skimmed the entrée list. “It appears this would be a seafood restaurant. Besides salad. Although we"re paying enough that I"m sure they"d hoof a steak up here from somewhere for you if you asked.”
“I like fish,” Ty muttered as he reviewed his own menu. He sounded almost insulted.
“I know that. But you like steak better,” Zane pointed out with a smile.
“Shut up,” Ty muttered with a shake of his head. “Maybe I can order fish and chips and feel like I"m at home,” in said a falsely wistful voice.
The waiter appeared at his elbow, and they made their orders, Zane passing when the man offered wine with the meal. Again, Ty hesitated when the drinks were brought up, as if not sure whether he should order one.
“I highly recommend the Verdicchio,” a hearty, accented voice said, interrupting the waiter"s explanation of the wine choices. “They"d do well to have an Orvieto, but alas, we must make do.”
Zane turned his attention to the man sitting at a nearby table who had spoken. He had dark Italian coloring and features to match his accent, and Zane guessed him to be in his early to mid-fifties by the depth of the voice and the gray at his temples. “Sounds like good advice. Doll? Want to try that?”
“Perhaps another time,” Ty answered softly, watching Zane with narrowed eyes.
“The wine list is not so extended, but I would call it sufficient, I suppose, considering the surrounds,” the man said, his deep voice easily carrying across the aisle between their tables.
Zane glanced over to observe a statuesque brunette sitting with the man who had just spoken, and she was commenting in what sounded like Italian, her sentence ending with a name: Lorenzo. And by the tone of her voice, she was chiding him.
“Ah, yes, excuse me. I do tend to go on,” the man told Zane in apology.
Zane smiled in response and checked to see if Ty had caught that exchange. A probably-Italian man named Lorenzo eating in the same rotation as they were. Chances were really good that this was their other main contact, Lorenzo Bianchi.
Ty was looking devotedly at his menu, his head cocked in a manner that said he was indeed listening intently to the couple at the neighboring table. As Zane looked at him, Ty glanced up at him from under his lashes. He had heard.
Zane ordered the first dish that caught his eye. Then the waiter turned to Ty and took his order before making himself scarce.
“Ah, and you will feel the want for the Orvieto, choosing such an exquisite and light grilled fish without sauce,” Bianchi said, wagging a finger in the air at Zane expansively.
“I"m sure there will be plenty of opportunity for wine during the cruise,” Zane said smoothly, turning his body slightly in the chair so he was more open to the Bianchis.
“Ah, champagne with breakfast, mixed drinks at lunch, cocktails with the appetizers, wine with dinner, and cognac with my cigar. I do indeed like that,” Bianchi said with a smile as he laid his napkin on the table next to his plate.
Zane had to ignore how dry his mouth had just gotten. That laundry list of drinks was appealing in its own scary way. “Well, it is vacation, after all,” he commented.
“Bah, vacation. Life is all about love and liquor,” Bianchi said with a grand gesture to the woman with him. “Isn"t that right, Norina?”
She smiled indulgently and nodded, and Zane saw the light of it sparkle in her dark eyes. She matched Bianchi for coloring, though Zane would place her as younger than Ty, early thirties at the most. “Ah, to beautiful women in love!” Bianchi proposed, holding up his nearly empty flute before finishing it in two swallows.
Zane let out a chuckle and nodded. “I"m sure we would join you in some variation of your toast if we had glasses.”
Bianchi narrowed his eyes, looking between Zane and Ty curiously, when Norina spoke up in a spate of Italian, and his eyes widened in surprise for a moment before he broke into a full laugh as he stood and offered his hand. “Well, then to beautiful people in love. I am Lorenzo Bianchi, and it is a pleasure to meet you finally. You are Mr. Porter, no?”