Читать книгу The Surprise De Angelis Baby - Кэтти Уильямс, Cathy Williams - Страница 8

CHAPTER TWO

‘NOW HAVE A look at the jug. George...see how it forms the centre of the arrangement? With the other two pieces in the background? So that the whole forms a geometric shape...? If you could just make the jug a teeny bit smaller, then I think we’re getting there!’

For the umpteenth time Delilah’s eyes skittered towards the door, waiting for it to be pushed open by Daniel.

Her calm, peaceful enjoyment of her brief window of freedom appeared to have disappeared the moment she had met the man. She had been knocked sideways by his looks, but more than that he had a certain watchfulness about him that she found weirdly compelling...

She was seeing him through the eyes of an artist, she had told herself, over and over again. The arrangement of his features, the peculiar aura of authority and power he emanated was quite unlike anything she had ever seen before in anyone.

She had laughingly told herself that she was reading far too much into someone who was probably a drifter, working his way through the continent. Someone who had managed to accumulate sufficient money to buy himself a few days on the liner so that he could pursue a hobby. Most of the passengers were in their fifties or sixties, on the cruise for the whole time, but there were a number who, like him, were on the cruise for a limited period of time, taking advantage of one or other of the many courses offered while enjoying the ports before disembarking so that they could continue travelling.

He was a traveller.

But she still found herself searching out the door every two minutes, and when—an hour after the class had begun—he pushed it open and strolled into the room she drew her breath in sharply.

‘Class!’ Everyone instantly stopped what they were doing and looked at Daniel. ‘I’d like to introduce a new recruit! His name is Daniel and he’s an aspiring artist, so I hope you’ll welcome him in and show him the ropes if I happen to be busy with someone. Daniel... I’ve set aside a seat for you, with an easel. You never mentioned what level you feel you might be at...?’

Daniel didn’t think that there was any level that might apply to him. ‘Basic.’ He smiled, encompassing every single person in the room, and was met with smiles in return, before their attention reverted to their masterpieces in the making.

‘In that case, why don’t you start with pencil? You can choose whichever softness you feel comfortable with and perhaps try your hand at reproducing the arrangement on the table in front of the class...’

She was extremely encouraging. She had kind things to say about even the most glaringly amateurish efforts. She took time to help and answered all the questions thrown at her patiently. When he told her, as he stared at the empty paper pinned to his easel, that he was waiting for inspiration to come and that you couldn’t rush that sort of thing, she didn’t roar with laughter but merely suggested that a single stroke of the pencil might be all the inspiration he needed.

He thought that he might have been a little more interested in art at school if he’d had her as his teacher instead of the battleaxe who had told him that the world of art would be better off without his input. Not that she hadn’t had a point...

He’d managed something roughly the shape of one of the objects on the table by the time the class drew to an end, but instead of heading out with everyone else he remained exactly where he was, watching as she tidied everything away.

Delilah could feel his eyes on her as she busied herself returning pencils and foam pads and palette knives to the various boxes on the shelf. She’d been so conscious of him sitting there at the back of the class, sprawled out with his body at an angle and doing absolutely nothing, from what she could see. She’d barely been able to focus.

Now she turned to him and smiled politely. ‘Won’t you be joining the other passengers for some lunch?’ she asked as she began the process of dismounting the easels and stacking them away neatly against the wall, where straps had been rigged to secure them in place.

Daniel linked his fingers behind his head and relaxed back into the chair. ‘I thought you could give me some pointers on my efforts today...’ He swivelled the easel so that it was facing her and Delilah walked slowly towards it.

‘I’m sorry you haven’t managed to accomplish a bit more,’ she said tactfully. ‘I was aiming for more of a realistic reproduction of the jugs...it’s important to really try and replicate what you see at this stage of your art career...’

‘I don’t think I’ll be having a career in art,’ Daniel pointed out.

‘So this is just a hobby for you...? Well, that’s good, as well. Hobbies can be very relaxing, and once you become a bit more familiar with the pencil—once your confidence starts growing—you’ll find it the most relaxing thing in the world...’

‘Is that what you do to relax?’ he asked, making no move to shift.

‘I really must get on and tidy away this stuff...’

‘No afternoon classes?’

‘The afternoons, generally speaking, are downtime for everyone. The passengers like to go out onto the deck, or else sit in the shade and catch up with their reading or whatever homework’s been set...’

‘And what do you do?’

‘I... I do a little painting...sometimes I sit by the pool on the top deck and read...’

Daniel enjoyed the way she blushed. It was a rare occurrence. The women he dated had left their blushing days far behind.

‘I thought we might have lunch again today,’ he suggested, waiting to see what form her refusal would take. ‘As you can see...’ he waved in the vague direction of his easel ‘...my efforts at art are crap.’

‘No one’s efforts at art are anything but good. You forget that beauty is in the eye of the beholder...’

‘How long are you going to be on the liner for?’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Are you here for...?’ He whipped out the crumpled cruise brochure from his shorts pocket, twisted it in various directions before finding the bit he wanted. ‘For the full duration of a month?’

‘I can’t see what this has to do with the course, Mr...er... Daniel...’

‘If you’re going to be on the course for the full duration I might be incentivised to stay a bit longer than a week.’

Complete lie—but something about her appealed to him. Yet again she was in an outfit more suitable for one of the middle-aged free spirits on the cruise ship. Another flowing skirt in random colours, and another kind of loose, baggy top that worked hard at concealing her figure—which, he saw as he surreptitiously cast his eye over it, was as slender and as graceful as a gazelle’s.

The libido he had planned on resting while he was on the ship stirred into enthusiastic life as he wondered what the body under the unappealing clothes might be like.

He went for big breasts. She was flat-chested—that much he could see. He went for women who were small and curvy—she was long and willowy. He liked them blonde and blue-eyed. She was copper-haired and brown-eyed.

Maybe it was the novelty... But whatever it was he was happy to go with the flow—not forgetting that she could also be a useful conduit to the information he wanted.

‘Don’t you have the rest of your travel plans already sorted out?’ Delilah was irritated to find herself lingering on the possibility that this man she had spent about fifteen seconds with might stay on for longer than he had originally suggested.

‘I try not to live my life according to too many prearranged plans,’ Daniel murmured, appreciating the delicate bloom of pink in her cheeks. ‘I guess we probably have that in common...’

Delilah grimaced. ‘I wish that was like me,’ she said without thinking. ‘But unfortunately you couldn’t be further from the truth.’ She reddened and spun round, away from those piercing unusual eyes. ‘Of course,’ she said, ‘it would be lovely if you stayed on a bit longer. I’m sure you could become an able artist if you put all your efforts into it.’

She knew that the cruise ship was running at a loss. All the crew knew that. Gerry and Christine had not kept it a secret from them at all. In fact on day one they had called a meeting and apologised straight away for the fact that they couldn’t be paid more. None of the teachers on board had protested. They were there because they loved what they did, and the fact that there was sun and sea in the mix was enough for all of them.

But the Ockleys had suggested that if they could try and persuade some of the passengers to prolong their stay, or even tempt interested holidaymakers into hopping on board for a couple of days to try their hand at one of the many courses... Well, every little would help.

‘Persuade me over lunch,’ Daniel suggested. It felt like a challenge to get her to comply—and since when had he ever backed down in the face of a challenge? ‘Unless, of course, you find my company objectionable...?’

Realistically, he didn’t even countenance that.

‘I had lunch with you yesterday because you wanted to find out about the course.’

Delilah did her best to dredge up the memory of her disaster of a relationship with Michael and to listen to the warning voice in her head reminding her that she was still recovering from a broken heart—which, by definition, meant retreating from men, taking time out, paying attention to the value of common sense.

‘So? What does that have to do with anything? We’ve talked about the course and now I’d like to find out whether you think I’m a suitable candidate to be on it. I wouldn’t want to be accused of wasting your time...so why the hesitation?’

‘Perhaps a quick lunch,’ she agreed—for Gerry and Christine’s sake.

Daniel smiled slowly. ‘Shame the choice of food is so limited,’ he said, rising to his feet and giving his effort at drawing the jug a cursory glance.

If he had really been interested in learning how to draw then she would have had to commit to an indefinite period of time explaining to him how he might set about improving his skills, because he clearly had none. Fortunately he had no intention of spending too long on that particular subject.

‘And it’s below average...’

‘Sorry?’ Delilah, in the act of washing her hands, turned round and frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

‘From what I’ve sampled, the food onboard doesn’t exactly set the culinary world alight, does it?’

He moved to stand by the door and watched as she gathered her bag—some sort of tapestry affair that could have held the kitchen table and sink. Again, her hair was pulled back, with strands escaping round her face, and she absently shoved the stray strands behind her ear.

‘It’s okay...’ she said cautiously.

‘You don’t want to rat on your fellow crew members,’ Daniel murmured, with a hint of amusement in his voice. ‘I understand that. But just between the two of us, I’ve been disappointed with what I’ve been served so far...’

‘I don’t think the passengers come for the food...’

‘It’s all part and parcel of the package,’ Daniel said expansively. ‘You said that the chef is allowed free rein...?’

‘But he has to stick to a budget,’ Delilah qualified uncomfortably. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t really matter, does it? I mean, if you’re really unhappy, then perhaps you should mention something to Christine...’

‘Who is the head chef?’

‘Stan...and he works really hard to do the best he can with the money he’s allotted...’ She tripped along behind him, riveted by the long, lean lines of his muscular body.

‘Don’t worry,’ Daniel said in a placating voice.

They had reached the bar and, as usual, people were tucking in to the offerings in a desultory fashion. Salads...baguettes with a variety of fillings...jacket potatoes...

It beggared belief that the owners of the liner had got their mismanagement down to such a fine art. Had they no concept of the importance of good food onboard a cruise liner, where the passengers did not have the option of scouting around for alternative restaurants?

‘I’m not going to accost your pal in front of the chip-fryer...’

‘Can I tell you something?’ She reached into her bag for her wallet and insisted that she paid for his drink, as he had paid for hers the day before. This wasn’t a date.

Daniel was chuffed. He couldn’t remember the last time any woman had offered to pay for anything for him—not that he would have allowed it. But, no...the offer had never been made anyway. And yet this girl, who clearly bought her clothes from charity shops, was offering to buy him a drink. He was oddly touched by that. If only she knew!

His inherent cynicism quickly rose to the surface. If only she knew how much he was worth, then there was no chance in hell that she would be dipping into her wallet to buy him anything.

Once upon a time, in the tragic wake of his mother’s death, he had foolishly allowed his emotions their freedom. He had fallen for Kelly Close’s sympathetic ear. He had harboured no suspicions about the sweet-natured primary school teacher who had been into doing good and giving back to the community. He’d enjoyed lavishing gifts on her, enjoyed basking in her shyly endearing acceptance of whatever he bought for her.

Until he’d glimpsed the band of pure steel underneath the shyness when she had ditched her job and suggested that they make their arrangement permanent. It had occurred to him then, belatedly, that when you got past all the coy dipping of the eyes and trembling, grateful smiles, she had managed to acquire quite a substantial nest egg of priceless jewellery—not to mention the studio apartment he had bought her because the lease on her own flat had supposedly expired, and the countless weekends away.

At that point he had tried to pull back and bring some common sense to bear on the proceedings. He had discovered then that gold-diggers came in all different shapes and sizes and, his guard temporarily down, had realised that Kelly Close had found her way through the cracks in his armour and staged a clever assault, with her eventual aim being a wedding ring on her finger and a claim to his vast inheritance should they ever divorce. Which, he had seen very quickly, would have happened sooner rather than later.

A clean severing of the ways, however, had turned into a cat fight. Threats of a kiss-and-tell exposé to the tabloids had resulted in money changing hands—a vast sum of money, which had hit him at the worst possible time. In return he had managed to secure a contract with a privacy clause, prohibiting her from ever mentioning his name in public, but the emotional cost to him had also been steep.

With his brother and his father in another country, he had at least been spared the horror of either of them knowing about the unholy mess and the financial cost to him because he had taken his eye off the ball. But he had learnt a valuable lesson, and now, whilst it cost him nothing to be generous with his money, he made damn sure not to be generous with his emotions. Those he kept firmly under wraps. Considering his women exited their relationships with him better off by furs and diamonds and cars, he didn’t think it was an unfair trade-off.

‘What?’ he asked.

Their eyes tangled and he didn’t look away. But she was desperate to. He could see it in those sherry-coloured eyes and in her sudden flush. She wanted to look away but she was drawn to look at him.

What would she be like under those clothes? What noises did she make when she made love? What would it feel like to touch her between her legs...to hold her small breasts in his big hands...to lick her nipples...?

He cleared his throat, got a grip. He liked the fact that he never lost control when he was with a woman. Never. He had no idea why he kept veering off in that direction now. Was it the salty tang of the sea air? He was here on a fact-finding mission and yet he felt as though he was playing truant from real life. Was that it?

‘I’ve known lots of art students...’ She tiptoed around her words, not wanting them to sound offensive. Artists could sometimes be very sensitive souls. ‘And you’re nothing like any of them...’

‘I’m very glad to hear it,’ Daniel drawled. He immediately sideswiped a sudden twinge of guilt at his masquerade. ‘I pride myself on being one of a kind.’

‘That’s what I mean,’ Delilah blurted out. ‘You’d never hear an artist come out with something as arrogant as that.’ She pressed the palms of her hands against her cheeks, mortified. ‘I’m so—so sorry...’ she stammered.

When Gerry and Catherine had made noises about the crew trying to persuade their guests into prolonging their stay, she didn’t think that one of the methods they would have advised using would have been insults. Delilah was horrified at what she had said. She was not the sort who ever did anything but encourage.

Having grown up with her wildly unorthodox background, she knew only too well the frailty of human beings—the way they could be lovable and exasperating at the same time. She had seen the way her sister had made allowances for their mum and dad, and she, too, had fallen into line, doing the same. She also knew how hurtful unintentionally blunt statements could be. Her mum had once told Sarah, without meaning to offend at all, that too much maths was turning her into a very boring person. Delilah didn’t think that her sister had ever forgotten that stray remark, which had been accompanied by a merry laugh and a fond ruffling of her hair.

She impulsively rested her hand on his and Daniel looked at her earnestly.

‘I think I’ll survive,’ he said, making no move to remove his hand.

She had beautiful fingers. Long and slim and soft—the fingers of an artist or a musician. He was tempted to ask if she played any instruments...

‘In fact, you aren’t the first person to have told me that I can sometimes be a little arrogant,’ he confessed, with such a rueful, charming, self-deprecating smile that Delilah could feel all her bones begin to melt.

Which made her yank her hand away at the speed of light. Her heart was beating so fast that she would have bet that if everyone in the bar fell silent they would all hear it.

‘But I prefer to think of it as being self-confident...’ he expanded softly. ‘Now, if you insist on buying a drink for me, then I will graciously accept—but on one condition...’

‘What’s that?’ She barely recognised her voice, which sounded high-pitched, girlish and breathless. She cleared her throat. She was a teacher, being paid to do a job. He was her pupil. She was also sworn off men.

Her ego had been battered and bruised by her experience with Michael. She wondered whether, instead of toughening her up the way it should have, it had somehow made her more vulnerable to someone like this guy, with his smooth charm and his insanely sexy good looks... Or was he the equivalent of a strong dose of pick-me-up tonic? Was that light, musing, flirtatious banter just a soothing balm, restoring her fragile self-confidence, making her feel good about herself?

And if it was then why should she be nervous around him? It wasn’t as though she was going to actually let him get under her skin, was she? He was nothing more than a passing stranger whose innate charm made her feel better about herself.

She relaxed when she looked at it in that light. It made sense.

‘I buy you dinner.’

‘What for?’

‘Why not?’ Daniel frowned.

‘You’ve already bought me lunch. Twice. So that we could talk about the course I offer and your contribution.’ She was doggedly determined not to let a couple of non-dates and a dinner invitation—extended because he was obviously a very sociable animal, probably accustomed to an abundance of female company—go to her head. ‘I don’t see the point of dinner. What do you want to talk about now?’

‘Good God...what sort of an answer is that?’

Delilah thought it was a very good answer to give a guy who was probably bored by the lack of female eye candy on the ship. A bit of mild flirting might do her the power of good, but it was important for him to realise that she wasn’t easy. She was probably over-thinking the whole thing, because she knew that she was no supermodel—and he was good-looking enough to have supermodels banging on his door even if he wasn’t made of money. But still...

‘How old are you?’ Daniel asked, while she was still in the middle of getting her thoughts together.

‘Twenty-one, but...’

‘We’re not at school, Delilah... Do you mind if I call you by your first name? We’re two adults on a cruise ship. I think it’s fair to say that accepting a dinner invitation from me doesn’t actually require hours of mental debate and indecision. It’s a simple yes or no scenario...’

‘Of course, but...’ But why did it feel so dangerous? Like he said, they were both adults—and why not?

‘Besides...’ He leaned forward, drawing her into an intimate circle where only the two of them existed. ‘I was given a little money before I...er...embarked on this adventure, and I promised myself that I would spend it buying dinner for a beautiful woman...’

Delilah felt a thrill of forbidden pleasure race through her at his blatant flattery. He was so utterly serious that she could feel herself going hot and cold. Gripped with sudden panic and confusion, she tried to remember if she had ever felt like this when she had been with Michael—or had that been more of a slow-burning attraction? The meeting of two minds, connected, she had thought at the time, at the same level? Of course he had been a very attractive man, too, but certainly not in this full-on, sledgehammer-to-the-ribs kind of way.

Two different situations, she told herself, frowning. This was pure lust—her body reminding her that whilst her emotions had been knocked for six, she could still respond to other men. Reminding her that she would recover from the blow she had taken and that being physically attracted to another man was the first step. This was a healthy and positive reaction to someone with drop-dead good looks.

‘Surely you wouldn’t insult me by throwing my invitation back in my face? And I thought we could make it something a bit more special than the buffet in the restaurant...’

Daniel hadn’t actually tried the buffet, but judging from what he had sampled of the other meals, he didn’t think it would be too hard to top it.

‘What would that be?’ Delilah asked, curiosity getting the better of her.

‘I’d like to see you with your hair loose,’ he heard himself say—which surprised him as much as it surprised her.

Delilah’s hand flew to her hair and her eyes widened. ‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Tonight. Have dinner with me. Dress up...wear your hair loose... I have money to blow and I’ve never been one to hang on to money if I can spend it. I’m going to ask your head chef to prepare a meal especially for us, and I intend to pay him way over the odds for it. Of course I’ll make sure I clear it with the captain and his...er...wife first...’

He had no doubt at all that they would accept his offer with alacrity, and it would afford him the opportunity to see exactly what standard the head chef was capable of cooking to. As with all the other members of the crew, he would be more than happy to keep the chef in gainful employment if he was up to scratch. He might be on the verge of staging a hostile takeover, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be fair in certain areas.

To his complete mystification she continued to look dubious, even though he could sense that she wanted to take him up on his offer. Even though he could sense that there was a part of her that was drawn to him...

‘I’d bet that Stan...that is his name, isn’t it?...would love nothing more than to practise the skills he’s learnt without having to consider a budget...’

‘Isn’t it a bit extravagant to blow a lot of money on a meal when you’ve still got travelling to do...? I mean, I’m assuming this is just a single leg of your journey...’

‘I’m very touched by your concern,’ Daniel said gently, ‘but I’m more than capable of looking after my finances... So what time will you be ready to join me? It’s going to be a stunning night. The water is as calm as a sheet of glass. I think I’ll get a table laid out for us in a secluded corner of the deck outside... Dining under the stars has always been something of a dream for me, and when else would I be likely to get the chance?’

Delilah wondered how much money he had to spend. She couldn’t fight the fact that it was incredibly flattering, and a bit of flattery was just so seductive to her at this point in time. What was the harm in responding to it? As long as she remained in control everything would be fine—and she knew that she was more than capable of remaining in control. She might not be very experienced, but she was experienced enough to know that she would never risk making an idiot of herself again.

‘Just dinner,’ she said quickly.

‘As opposed to dinner and...what?’

Unaccustomed to this sort of sexual banter, Delilah flushed and cleared her throat. ‘I don’t feel comfortable accepting an invitation from you when I know that it’s going to cost the earth,’ she offered lamely, only just rescuing herself from launching into a ridiculous speech about sex not being on the agenda because she wasn’t looking for any kind of relationship and she wasn’t the sort of girl who went in for meaningless flings.

‘Hardly the earth,’ Daniel pointed out drily. ‘I’ll pay the going rate for a good meal in Sydney. Or London. Or New York. Plus a little extra for the setting, of course...’

He named a figure that made her eyes water.

She had no idea what it felt like to spend that much money on a single meal in one reckless go. Her parents had seldom eaten out. In fact her mother had been a terrible cook and Sarah had usually done the cooking duties in the house. Delilah could remember meals, but they had all been basic, with food bought on a budget, because her parents had never had more than a couple of dimes to rub together. And then later, at art college, she had scraped by and so had everyone else she had known.

Even when she had been going out with Michael they had gone out on the cheap.

This seemed so generous...so impulsive...so tempting... Would it be so very wrong to accept? Would a couple of hours of being made to feel better about herself really hurt?

‘I would offer to pay half, but there’s no way I could afford it,’ she said—and if that was the end of that, then so be it, she thought. Though her mind was already leaping ahead to the seductive prospect of being made to feel desirable and attractive by a man like him. ‘I mean, I earn... Well, not much, in actual fact...because...’

‘Because they’re not making much money on this liner...?’

‘Times are tough,’ she said vaguely. ‘The economy isn’t booming and cruises aren’t the sort of things that people race to throw money at...’

Too true, Daniel thought wryly. Especially ill-conceived cruises with sub-standard food that only seemed to attract ageing hippies with limited disposable incomes...

He was mentally making a note of everything she said and everything he saw, because when it came to putting in an offer there was no way he would allow the Ockley couple to try and pull a fast one by pretending their cruises were anything but loss-making ventures.

‘Besides...’ Delilah thought of the money she was currently sending to her sister, trying to pull her weight in paying off the interest on the loan they had secured from the bank for their building work.

Daniel tilted his head to one side and looked at her narrowly. ‘Besides what...?

‘Nothing. Okay. Well, why not? Dinner might be nice... And maybe,’ she tacked on dutifully, ‘I could persuade you to extend your stay on the ship...?’

‘Maybe,’ Daniel said, non-committal.

He thought that that kind of conversation would hit a roadblock in under thirty seconds. No, this evening would be about finding out about the cruise and her fellow crew members.

And finding out about her. She’d been on the verge of saying something about where her limited income went and he had to admit that he was curious. Unlike the women he had dated in the past, she was reluctant to try and engage his attention by bombarding him with every single detail about herself. That in itself fired up his curiosity.

‘And you can tell me about your travels,’ she said wistfully. ‘Where you’re planning on heading to next...’

‘That’s easy. London.’

‘Really?’

‘I have some...some business to attend to over there...’

‘What do you do?’ Delilah asked with interest. ‘I mean, what’s your profession?’

‘I work in the leisure industry.’

Which was absolutely true. Although in fairness she probably wouldn’t get close to suspecting the role he actually played. Not so much working in the industry as running and dominating it...

‘That probably explains how you managed to get the time off to do a little drifting,’ she said with a smile. ‘I guess if you worked in an office your manager mightn’t be too thrilled if you told him that you wanted time off to explore the artist in you...’

Daniel laughed. He was rarely bothered by a guilty conscience, but he couldn’t help feeling another twinge of guilt at his deliberate manipulation of the truth.

‘I don’t have a manager,’ he murmured. ‘Funny, but I’ve always found it galling to obey someone else’s orders.’

Delilah laughed, her eyes tangling with his. He was so sexy. He had that indefinable sexiness that came with not caring what other people thought about you. He didn’t give a damn if she or anyone else thought that some of the things he said were arrogant. She got the feeling that he wouldn’t care what anyone thought about him.

Her heart picked up speed. The way he was looking at her, his eyes narrowed and brooding, sent little thrills of pleasure racing up and down her spine.

Why shouldn’t she allow herself to feel like a woman again? Surely if she didn’t then Michael would end up having the last word?

Yes, Sarah had told her that she had to learn from her experience and make sensible choices when it came to men, and Delilah knew that her sister was right. But the sensible choice held as much attraction as a bout of flu, and wicked rebellion flared inside her.

She licked her lips in a gesture that Daniel thought was unconsciously erotic.

‘No one likes taking orders from other people,’ she said breathlessly. ‘I guess we’d all like to be able to do our own thing, but unfortunately that’s not how life is.’

Daniel looked around him before settling his gaze back on her flushed face. ‘This strikes me as a pretty loose situation for you,’ he pointed out. ‘Didn’t you tell me that you’re all allowed to do your own thing on the liner, without constraints?’

‘Yes, but I’m only here for a few weeks,’ she reminded him.

‘And then what? Going to hitch a ride on another cruise ship?’

‘If only...’

Daniel leaned forward, intrigued. ‘So tell me...?’

‘There’s nothing to tell.’

From a young age she had learnt that there were just too many kids who were happy to snigger behind her back. She and Sarah had been the sisters with the weird parents. They’d learned that the less they’d said about their home life, the better, so they had kept themselves to themselves. The habit was so deeply engrained that even now, as a young adult, Delilah automatically shied away from confiding.

So what was it about this guy that made her want to open up?

And why did the thought of acting against her better judgement in accepting his invitation feel so appealing?

‘I should be heading back to my cabin...’ She barely recognised her voice and took a few steadying breaths. ‘I... I’m going to do some preparation for my class tomorrow and...and...grab a bit of this beautiful weather... We should be at another port the day after tomorrow... It will be nice to just sit and soak up the sun with my book... You know... It’s all go, go, go when we dock...and my students expect me to have clever things to say about all the places of culture that we visit...so...’

Daniel smiled slowly. ‘So...’ He sat back and thought that he needed to use the afternoon productively himself. Various deals going on required his attention. Time, as they said, was money. ‘Seven sharp,’ he murmured. ‘Out on the deck. Far from the crowds...’

‘You haven’t got permission yet...’ Delilah pointed out.

‘Oh, I’ll get permission,’ he drawled.

‘Because everyone listens and obeys when you talk?’

She’d said that jokingly, but there had been a thread of seriousness behind the jest and she wasn’t all that surprised when he looked at her, eyebrows raised.

‘Without exception...’ he replied, deadly serious.