Читать книгу You're What?! - Anne Eames, Anne Eames - Страница 10

Dawn crept through the twin portholes above Michelle’s bed, and she stretched languorously. The gentle rocking of the ship had cradled her into a dreamless sleep, leaving her more rested than she’d felt in years. It wasn’t yet seven, but her stomach was growling and she longed for some coffee.

She threw herself into gear, eager for the feel of ocean breezes. Breakfast on deck sounded heavenly. And it meant postponing dealing with Kevin, too. A little food and a good book. That would tide her over for a while. Later, she’d resume her search for the fantasy father, but with more finesse than yesterday.

After a quick shower, she pulled her hair into a ponytail and donned a pair of white shorts and a white T-shirt. So what if it wasn’t after Memorial Day? She was on vacation and so were the old rules. With her book tucked securely under her arm, she left her stateroom and strode down the hall, the salty scent growing stronger with each long stride.

At the top of the stairs, she followed the aroma of fresh brewed coffee, surprised to find a number of early risers already in line at the buffet tables near the pool. Goose bumps rose on her bare arms and legs and she wished she’d dressed warmer. She spotted an empty table in the sun. Helping herself to coffee and juice, she headed toward it. She deposited her beverages and book, then joined the line for food, all the while gazing out over the endless sea.

The line inched forward at a turtle’s pace, which for a change didn’t bother her in the least. There was no client waiting, no place she had to be. Smiling at a pair of lovers strolling by, she took another step forward.

And ran right into the person in front of her.

Michelle jumped back. “Excuse me. I’m so sorry.”

At the sound of her voice, Kevin turned abruptly. “You!”

Openmouthed, Michelle stared up at him, not liking the acerbic tone he’d so easily adopted. She jutted out her chin and took the offensive. “Are you following me?”

His laugh was low and sardonic. “You’re the one behind me, Michelle.” He leaned heavily on her name. “Look, maybe we should get something straight up front. I’m not interested.” He’d started to turn back when she grabbed his arm.

“And what makes you think I am?” The words were no sooner out than she knew the answer.

Kevin cocked his head and arched an accusatory eyebrow.

“If you’re talking about that departure incident, don’t flatter yourself. I was watching something behind you. I didn’t even notice you until you started staring at me,” she lied, with more aplomb than she’d known she had in her.

“Right.” He dropped an English muffin on his plate and turned his back on her.

Of all the pompous, arrogant…Her breathing was rapid, her face hot. She searched for a clever retort, but was too embarrassed and angry to think.

Michelle slapped food onto her plate, barely taking stock of her choices. Well, she could have been looking at something behind him. How did he know?

Kevin wandered off in the opposite direction as she rushed over to her table. She positioned her chair away from the crowd and faced the railing, then dropped heavily into it.

Men! No wonder she was still single—a fact that sounded better every day.

Michelle munched on a piece of rye toast as her breathing returned to normal. What was wrong with her? It was a gorgeous day and she was on her way to a tropical island. There were about two thousand people on this ship. She couldn’t let one insolent man ruin it all. She drank her coffee, feeling its warmth trickle through her, then picked up her book. One thing was certain. She’d have lunch outside, too, and be sure he was nowhere in sight when she approached the buffet. Tonight she’d deal with Mr. God’s Gift.

Michelle read the same page twice before closing her eyes and lifting her face to the sun. Damn, but he was good-looking. That probably accounted for the attitude. Poor baby—getting hit on at every turn.

A slow smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. Maybe she should give him a little of what he expected. Why not? If he didn’t like it, he could ask for a new table and the problem would be solved.

Kevin tightened the knot on his tie, buttoned down the points of his collar and mumbled under his breath. He’d spent the better part of the day peering around corners for that ever-present redhead, not once spotting her. Had he been wrong about her looking for action, or had he just been lucky not to run into her again? He slipped on his navy blue pinstripe suit coat and stepped away from the mirror. It wasn’t a tux, but it would have to do. He wasn’t about to put on a monkey suit just to meet the captain of the ship. In fact, he didn’t see a need to stand in some long line to shake the guy’s hand, either. What a strange custom. How many pilots had travelers met? This was simply a bigger ship. He shrugged and left the room. Guess it made as much sense as throwing confetti overboard.

Maybe Paul was right. He’d lost his sense of humor. Everyone else had seemed caught up in the departure ritual. All but Michelle, he remembered, as he entered the dining room and pressed his way through sequins and satin. Maybe he’d been wrong about her. If she hadn’t changed tables, he’d do his best to make amends.

Across the room he spotted Millie and Hazel already seated, along with the lovebirds. They’d all assumed the same places. It reminded him of the one time he’d served on jury duty. The jurors had always taken the same seats in the deliberation room. He wondered what havoc he’d wreak if he sat in a different chair. The only one left now was Michelle’s. If he wanted to start fresh with the woman, that probably wasn’t the way to begin. Millie waved excitedly as he approached.

“My, don’t you ladies look gorgeous!” he said. They did, each in their own way. “I guess I’m a little underdressed.”

“You look very handsome, Kevin.” Millie smiled coyly, then lowered her gaze. Hazel reached over and patted his hand reassuringly. Maybe they thought he couldn’t afford formal attire, which was just as well. He’d hate to think how much more active their obvious matchmaking efforts would be if they knew the truth.

“Did you meet Captain Olson?” Hazel asked.

“No, I’m afraid I didn’t.”

“Sis and I arrived early and were near the front of the line. He’s soooo charming, don’t you think, Millie?”

“Oh, yes.” She hunched her narrow shoulders and wiggled them. “I’ve always loved a man in uniform, all epaulets and braid, every crease to perfection.” She winked at Kevin and he couldn’t help but smile. “Kevin, tell us about your day—” Her gaze suddenly left his as she stopped in midsentence and stared openmouthed at the space behind his left shoulder. “Oh, my, my, my!”

Curious, Kevin turned in his chair, his face just inches away from ample cleavage squeezed firmly in place by a shimmering silver strapless gown. His jaw dropped as his gaze traveled north, stopping at the most beautiful green eyes he’d ever seen. “Michelle?” His voice cracked like an adolescent’s.

She held out her hand to him. “Kevin?”

He didn’t miss the instant replay of their first meeting, but he was too dumbstruck for a clever retort. He didn’t know whether to shake her hand or kiss it. Instead, he held on to it and stood up, his gaze never leaving hers.

Finally he closed his mouth and pulled out her chair. She sat gracefully, then eyed him evenly when he rejoined the table.

“Thank you, Kevin,” she said with a smile. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?”

He nodded, not sure what to make of this poised and polite stranger beside him. Could this possibly be the same creature who had nearly assaulted him at breakfast, deserved as that might have been?

“Did you enjoy your day at sea?” she asked, still smiling.

Not really. He’d wasted most of it trying to avoid her. Why—looking at her now—he hadn’t a clue. Before he could answer, Hazel leaned in and talked around him.

“I love your hair that way, dear. Did you do it yourself?”

Kevin looked at the burnished curls swept atop her head, a few strategic tendrils gracing her temples and long neck. He could picture her in a whirlpool full of bubbles with her hair like that, the ends wet above those perfect bare shoulders. An alarm went off in his head and he looked away.

“No,” Michelle answered. “I treated myself to the works today. Hair, nails, even a massage—which I highly recommend. It was heavenly.”

Millie’s eyebrows shot up. “Masseur or masseuse?”

“Millie!” Hazel sent a warning glare, but Michelle found the question amusing and laughed.

“It was a woman,” she answered.

“Oh.” Millie seemed disappointed.

Kevin felt relieved. Though he wasn’t sure why he should care.

Millie shifted her attention back to him. “Now, Kevin. You were about to tell us about your day.”

He shrugged. “Not much to tell. I read a little, walked a lot. And you two?”

Hazel burst in. “We won a hundred and fifty dollars between us at the blackjack tables. It was so exciting.”

“Of course, we lost most of it at the roulette wheel, but it was fun anyway,” Millie added.

Kevin noticed no one asked the honeymooners about their day. There were whisker burns on the bride’s neck, and their lips looked like recent collagen recipients. Go for it, he thought and smiled. You never know how long…

The waiter appeared and took drink orders, cutting into his petulant thoughts. This time, when Michelle ordered a Virgin Mary he didn’t laugh. Apparently she wasn’t much of a drinker. Later, when the groom ordered a bottle of champagne for the table, Kevin noticed she still refrained. For a fleeting moment, he wondered if she was a reformed alcoholic, but then he let the suspicion pass. With a body like hers, she was probably a health nut. When dessert was served and she waved it off, he remembered she hadn’t eaten any last night, either. Nothing wrong with that, he decided. He’d seen enough clogged arteries to appreciate a good diet.

Millie wiped her mouth daintily with the comer of her napkin before speaking. “Hazel and I were thinking of going to…to…What was the name of it, dear?”

“Checkers Cabaret.”

“That’s it. They’re supposed to have exotic coffees and after-dinner drinks.plus music for dancing.” Kevin noticed her gaze darted between him and Michelle, a hopeful expression on her frail little face. He lifted his champagne glass and stalled, hoping Michelle would answer first, which she did.

“I think I’ll just take a stroll around deck and then call it a night,” she said. “But thanks for asking, ladies. Maybe another time.” She pushed out her chair and stood, the slit up her right side exposing a well-formed thigh sheathed in silky sheer hose.

Kevin tried not to stare, but he knew she caught his glance.

Hazel said, “Maybe we’ll run into each other at the shore excursion desk tomorrow.” She looked up at Michelle. “You are going to St. Martin Tuesday, aren’t you, dear?”

Michelle clutched the back of her chair and smiled demurely. “I don’t think so. Unless I change my mind, I was thinking of staying aboard.” The sisters moaned in perfect unison. “I’ve been to St. Martin before, but this is my first cruise,” Michelle added. “I thought I might enjoy roaming the ship when it wasn’t so crowded.”

Millie was now staring at Kevin, who refused to take the bait. He didn’t know what he would be doing ten minutes from now, let alone day after tomorrow. Right now, a walk with Michelle had its appeal, but not under the close scrutiny of the well-intentioned matchmakers. They didn’t need any encouragement.

“Can you dance, Kevin?” Hazel asked unexpectedly.

“Well, I…”

“Of course he can!” Millie scurried around the table, beaming from diamond-studded ear to diamond-studded ear. “I get the first waltz, Hazel,” she called over her shoulder, tugging him from his chair.

“Oh, Millie. Don’t be silly. I bet they don’t even play a waltz.” They each claimed an arm and continued their banter as if it were a sure thing he would join them.

Kevin smiled down on the pair of bobbing blue heads and let them lead him away. One dance each and then he’d leave, hopefully before Michelle finished her walk.

Forty minutes later, longer than he had planned, Kevin excused himself and took the stairs two at a time to the Sky Deck, then systematically made his way around and down each level. But no slender redhead graced the railing. Finally, he gave up and headed for his stateroom, disappointment and relief warring inside his gut. Who was this woman, anyway? And worse yet, why did he suddenly care?

Tuesday morning Michelle found an empty chair on the Sun Deck and finished the dregs of her coffee. It was nearly noon and for hours she’d watched tender after tender transport excited passengers ashore. Earlier she’d wondered if she’d made a bad decision staying behind, but now, bathed in sun and serenity, she wasn’t sorry.

With the side of her hand shielding her eyes she studied the private yachts dotting the seascape. One in particular caught her eye. It was anchored far from shore, away from the others, and had to be at least a hundred feet long. Lifting her binoculars from around her neck, she adjusted the focus and slowly swept the ship’s length. She was about to drop the lenses when a sole figure appeared on the fan tail. A bearded man dressed in a tartan plaid kilt, of all things. Fascinated, she watched and waited. He hoisted something over his head and positioned a strap across his shoulder and chest, tucking a large bag beneath his upper arm. When he began blowing into a tube, Michelle knew her first guess had been correct.

Bagpipes.

She lowered the glasses and moved to the railing, anticipation racing through her veins. Before the melody began, she knew she was in for a treat. But when the first haunting refrain of “Amazing Grace” wafted toward her, she wasn’t prepared for the emotion it evoked. A favorite since childhood, the poignant tune began spinning its web about her. Transfixed, she stared at the source of the magic, the words forming on her lips without sound. It felt as though he played just for her. Each high-pitched note wailed and lingered until the next, weaving a mystical spell around her soul. God was talking to her—what the message, she wasn’t sure, but the power and passion were like none she’d ever known. The Caribbean was her cathedral. And hers alone.

Even the footsteps behind her didn’t break her concentration. When the person stopped beside her she remained riveted, wishing the music would never stop, hoping whoever joined her would possess the sensitivity not to speak. Tears trailed down her hot cheeks, but she did nothing to hide them, fearing the slightest movement might break the spell.

With only the slightest pause, the tune began again. She closed her eyes and felt her body sway with the gentle rocking of the ship. And then a new sound pierced the stillness beside her. In one of the most beautiful tenor voices she’d ever heard, the words she mouthed came soft yet clear from the person at her side. His intonation returned the soulful tune with as much meaning and tenderness as its sender.

Michelle gripped the railing, her legs trembling from sensual saturation. And when the last note faded into nothingness, she felt both sad and relieved, the intensity of the experience one she would never be able to explain to another human being.

Except maybe this man beside her. But then words were inadequate.

Minutes passed in total silence. Still, she didn’t move. Nor did he. She wanted to sit down before her legs buckled, but should she turn away from him without comment? Or did she turn toward him? Suddenly she felt vulnerable—an unfamiliar and uncomfortable feeling. She’d let someone see a part of her she wasn’t sure she’d ever seen herself. Better to have been caught in the buff than to expose her soul.

Finally, gathering all the courage she could muster, she turned toward him. His eyes were shiny, his cheeks damp. And he was gazing down at her like a vision from heaven.

“Kevin,” she whispered, surprised yet somehow relieved. He took her hand, but didn’t speak. They turned back to the railing and gazed out at the yacht, her deck now deserted. For a moment Michelle wondered if the bagpipes had been real, but then Kevin squeezed her hand ever so gently, telegraphing a message only the two of them could understand.

Others began wandering over to the railing, speculating on what they’d heard moments earlier. Still holding her hand, Kevin led her away from the crowd, their steps measured, trancelike. When they reached the stairs they descended in silence, then strolled leisurely down the Fjord Deck. Lifeboats lined the perimeter, partially obstructing the view. Apparently the few travelers who remained aboard preferred better spots. But to Michelle this was perfect. It provided time and space to think about what just happened.

When the bagpipes first began, she’d been happy to experience the moment alone, resenting the intrusion of someone else. But when Kevin opened his mouth and sang, the magic had taken on new heights and her spirit soared like never before.

Michelle slowed her pace so that she was barely moving and Kevin followed suit. Was there a message in this somewhere? Could God be trying to tell her how much happier life would be if shared with the right person?

She quickened her pace. Where was that old cynical Michelle who doubted the existence of Mr. Right?

But at this very moment, she was so filled with love and peace she couldn’t help but think kindly of this man beside her. Was he merely a symbol of what she could have if she opened her heart and took another chance? Or was Kevin…

No. She shook her head, the last of the cocoon evaporating and reality seeping in. Without breaking stride and in a voice that sounded as if she’d just awoken, Michelle finally braved a few words. “Do you sing in church?”

They kept walking. Both looked straight ahead.

Kevin’s answer seemed tentative, cautious. “No. I wish I could, but I’m usually working Sunday mornings. I used to sing in the men’s choir in college, though. Now I’m lucky if I have time in the shower.”

Michelle smiled as they rounded the corner and sauntered on. She liked this new Kevin. “What kind of work keeps you so busy Sunday mornings?”

At last he stopped and turned toward her, looking relaxed and self-assured. “What do you think I do? Take a guess.”

She lifted the hand still in hers and studied it. “It’s so clean and soft, no calluses. Definitely white-collar.” She looked up into his magnetic gray eyes and her pulse quickened.

“So far so good,” he said, his steady gaze saying so much more. “Could you be more specific?”

Michelle looked back to his hand in hers, its warmth now traveling up her arm. A part of her wanted to tell him what profession she’d pegged him in two days ago at the breakfast buffet, but she didn’t feel that way now. Unfortunately, her thoughts betrayed her and she felt the corners of her mouth tug upward.

“Go ahead. Tell me. It’s obviously amusing.”

“Two days ago I was sure you were a lawyer.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against her forehead. “And now?” he asked.

She braved a glance upward. “Now I’m sure you’re not.” He smiled, more with the corners of his eyes than his mouth.

“Why’s that?”

Because I saw your soul and lawyers don’t have one. But she couldn’t bring herself to say that. “Because…because…” She held his steady gaze as the distance closed between them. He didn’t seem interested in her answer. His soft lips pressed against her forehead and words disappeared, lost on a wave of emotion that left her trembling against him. He drew her closer until her cheek pressed his T-shirt. His soap and musky aftershave filled her nostrils while his hands circled her back, slowly, soothingly.

“I don’t know about you, but I came on this cruise to get away from work.” His breath brushed across her ear. “Do we have to talk about our jobs?”

They had better talk about something, Michelle thought. Soon. What had started as a spiritual experience had quickly become sensual, sending messages to long-forgotten parts of her.

She stepped back and forced a casual smile. “Why don’t we make up something? And where we’re from, too.”

He slid his hands down her arms, then clasped her fingers in his. “Why not? Could be fun.” The corners of his eyes crinkled, his gaze warm and steady. “I’ve always loved San Francisco.”

“Really? So have I. Could we be from the same place?” He squeezed her hands and she felt the simple gesture travel up her arms and to her chest.

“A nice coincidence, don’t you think?” He dropped one hand and started to stroll along the deck, still holding tight to the other. “So what do you do in San Francisco, Michelle?”

She walked on, matching his relaxed stride, and thought for a moment. “I’m in the medical field.” She thought she felt him stiffen, but then he smiled down at her.

“Doing exactly what?” he asked.

“I…I, uh…I’m a nurse at a hospital.” She liked this idea and decided to elaborate. “I work mostly with babies in the nursery. Sometimes in Pediatrics.” Kevin stopped walking, propped his elbows on the railing, and stared at the water. Had she said something wrong? He suddenly seemed a million miles away. When he didn’t speak, she asked, “And what do you do?”

He heaved a sigh and turned his back to the railing, avoiding her curious stare. “Let’s see.” He took a moment, then looked at her, seeming relaxed again. “I’m a general contractor. I restore old homes. There were some beautiful Victorians damaged in the last big quake that are still in need of repair.” He took her hand and began to walk again. “It keeps me busy.”

If she hadn’t known this was a game, she’d have believed him. There was something traditional, even old-fashioned, in his demeanor that lent credence to his story. She liked their little charade, but suddenly she felt compelled to clear up their murky meeting. “About that departure scene…”

He stopped and faced her. “I sure jumped to the wrong conclusion, didn’t I?”

“I really wasn’t looking to meet someone—”

“I was rude to you at breakfast the next morning—”

“I thought you were a…a—”

“A real jerk?”

She smiled. “Probably better than what you thought I was.” His laugh was low and easy. “And to think I almost—”

“—asked for another table?” Kevin finished for her. “Me too. How about if we start over?” He extended his hand and straightened his back in mock formality. “My name’s Kevin.”

Michelle clasped his hand in hers. “I’m Michelle. Nice meeting you, Kevin.”

“Would you care to accompany me to lunch? I know of this perfect table.”

Michelle emitted a nervous chuckle. His hand was still on hers—a fact that was both comfortable and unsettling at the same time. “I’d love to, Kevin.” She extracted her hand, only for him to bend her arm in his.

They strolled on, with Michelle all too aware of the muscular arm that occasionally brushed the side of her breast.