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actions, or because it’s her custom, too, Captain Lopez reaches out for the hands of the people on either side of her, bows her head, and says grace. Hers is more involved than the prayer Logan used during our first date, but I like it, too.

When she finishes, Logan squeezes my hand twice before he picks up his silverware and cuts up my salad.

When I glance up, I see several people, including Captain Lopez and Teresa, look away quickly. I take a bite of salad—fennel, arugula and goat’s cheese, yum-yum—while I try to gauge their reactions. Although there are some obvious couples at the table, none of them are overtly Dom/sub. Teresa’s wearing heavy silver and turquoise jewelry, but no collar. Glancing around, I don’t see collars on anyone. None of them seem to be observing any rituals, although the gay couple across the table from us swap plates halfway through their appetizers so they each eat half of the other’s dish. Maybe it’s just because we’re eating at the captain’s table. I glance around the room, but it’s too hard to read interactions at a distance.

I do, however, spot Vashi, sitting between her Viking and a heavy-set, smiling, Indian man. She smiles when she notices me, and I give her a wave before going back to my meal.

As I turn back, Logan says, “Emily’s tried to convince me of the merits of Bruce Willis movies. Not sure I’m sold yet.”

I lift an eyebrow at his slander of Daddy Bruce.

“You have to admit The Sixth Sense is an exceptional film,” a man across the table, who must have started the conversation while I was surveying the room, says. “As is Unbreakable.”

Logan shrugs. “Once you know the twist, are they? Would you watch them over and over?”

“M. Night Shyamalan’s movies are so rich, there’s something new to enjoy on every viewing,” the man insists.

The Sixth Sense and The Last Airbender are the only films of M. Night Shyamalan’s I’ve seen, but I’m not sure I agree, since I’ve only watched each of them once and The Last Airbender didn’t make any sense, although I liked the premise a lot.

“Nothing wrong with Die Hard except that it didn’t take place at sea,” the chief says, which gets him chuckles around the table. “Other than that, I can’t say I’ve seen much else with Bruce Willis, or by the Shyamalan guy.”

“Looper is worth a watch,” Teresa says.

I smile at her. A physicist who likes time travel movies?

“Is any of it possible?” I ask.

“Time travel? They hand-wave the mechanism in the film, but, theoretically, yes, time travel is possible. Besides, I’ve learned as a physicist to never say never. In my own field, topological insulators were discovered less than twenty years ago. They’ve changed the face of my specialty. Who knows what will be discovered tomorrow?” She gives me a smile that would fit perfectly on the Mona Lisa.

I pass my hand through the air over my head. “Whoosh.”

She laughs gently. “Would you like a crash course in phases of matter over our entrees?”

A physics lesson from a physicist? Sign me up.

I nod eagerly and beside me, Logan chuckles. “You’ve made a friend for life. Emily’s terminally curious.”

Terminally? Have I done wrong in showing my enthusiasm? Maybe not everyone wants a crash course in phases of matter over dinner. Their loss, but, still, I don’t want to embarrass my Dom. I glance at Logan’s face; he’s smiling at me and rubs his hand up and down my back reassuringly.

“‘The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its own reason for existing,’” Teresa quotes. “Einstein, my favorite philosopher.”

He instantly becomes mine, too. Anyone who never stopped questioning, and had worse bad hair days than I do, goes to the top of my list.

“I think Emily will take you up on that,” Logan says. “But we need to excuse ourselves for a minute first. Emmy?”

Oh, the plug.

I excuse myself. Logan holds my chair for me and helps me to my feet. As I’m rising, the Shyamalan fan says, “Leaving already, Mr. Logan?”

There’s an edge of a sneer to his words, and I look at him in surprise. Is he being nasty? Everyone’s been so welcoming.

“Just an intermission. We’ll be back in time for the main course,” Logan says smoothly, putting his hand on the small of my back, steering me away from the table.

I look up at him questioningly as we walk out of the dining room to the public bathroom down the corridor.

“Dan Reyes,” Logan says, in response to my unspoken question. “Head of Security for Pink Pearl. Not my biggest fan and my first interview tomorrow. That should be fun, huh?”

“Oh.” It’s a sharp reminder that Logan has other things to think about than making me comfortable in a large group of people, or even the plug in my ass. This is work for him. “I’m sorry, Sir. Is there anything I can do?”

Logan taps the tip of my nose with his finger as he holds the bathroom door open for me. “Nope, just be yourself. You’re already charming the pants off everyone.”

I wish that were true, but I smile up at him. “Mr. Reyes isn’t wearing a uniform,” I observe, thinking back to the snide man.

“Pink Pearl security doesn’t except when they’re manning the doors.”

“Is that legal? Don’t they have to identify themselves?” I ask.

“Yes, it’s legal. No, they don’t have to identify themselves. Yes, you ask a lot of questions.” When I open my mouth to apologize, he grins. “No, I don’t mind. Bend over and brace yourself against the sink, buttercup.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

I position myself as instructed, bending over the sink and propping my elbows between the faucet and handles of the tap. This bathroom isn’t as well designed for butt plug removal as the others we’ve used. I make a mental note to leave the cruise company a comment about their inconvenient bathroom layout at the end of the trip.

Logan runs his hand down my back and over my

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