Читать книгу Titanic: A Date With Destiny - Marguerite Kaye - Страница 8

Having ascertained, by the simple means of exchanging hard cash for information, that his runaway stewardess was off duty and not in her cabin, Max combed the ship methodically. He found her on the poop deck, gazing out over the grey, choppy waters and the white wake left by the huge liner as it steamed towards Cherbourg.

She was out of what he realised now had indeed been a uniform, wearing a suit the colour of an aubergine. Sans hat, her hair was escaping in long dark tendrils from the heavy bun at her nape, whipping around her face and clinging to her skin. She looked sad, world-weary even. Last night he’d thought her rather empty-headed, but today she seemed overloaded, as if her troubles were too myriad to cope with. The contrast struck him anew. It was crazy, but he felt as if he were staring at a different woman.

‘Don’t even think about running away,’ he said to her.

‘You!’ Jennifer tried to back away, only to find herself caught by the rail, trapped by the bulk of him in front of her. Though he wasn’t really bulky, just well-built. At least she understood his anger now.

‘I want an explanation.’

Jennifer nodded reluctantly. He deserved that, and seeing him again, she found she wanted to clear up the confusion. ‘The woman in the pub. It was Maud. My twin.’

‘Your twin.’

He sounded sceptical. No, downright disbelieving. Jennifer met his gaze, the anger that should have been directed at Maud bolstering her courage. Attractive he may well be but, she reminded herself, he had made some horrible and unjustified accusations. ‘My twin,’ she repeated curtly. ‘Maud sneaked on board, pretending to be me. It would seem she is intent on joining me in America, despite the fact that I did not invite her. Not that that ever bothers Maud. Another one of her love affairs is over, you see. Another man has disappointed her and destroyed all her dreams. And just because her big sister is emigrating she thinks she can escape picking up the pieces of her own life. Again.’ She sighed. ‘I am not Maud, Mr Blakely. My name is Jennifer. And before you ask, I know your name because my sister told me, not because I consulted my almanac of eligible bachelors.’

His instincts hadn’t been wrong after all, which was quite a relief. It was strange, Max thought, studying her intently, how two people could share the same features, yet look so utterly different. ‘Jennifer …’ he said. ‘So you’re the responsible twin, are you? The one who “picks up the pieces”?’

Was it understanding in his eyes? Yes, and warmth, too. But she would not be drawn in by him. Jennifer shrugged. ‘Luckily for you, Maud has not fallen victim to your charms, Mr Blakely. You’re not her type, apparently.’

He grinned. ‘Nor is she mine.’

‘So why the kiss?’

Max ran his fingers through his hair, obviously a habit. Damp with spray, it stood up in endearing spikes. ‘I realise it was dumb of me,’ he said. ‘I was so taken aback, I thought you—Maud was playing games and I decided to call her bluff. But then you kissed me, and I didn’t know what to think. That was quite a kiss.’

He touched her cheek, and she remembered the kiss, just as he was obviously also remembering it. It really had been quite a kiss.

His thumb ran along the sensitive line of her jaw, and he leaned in….