You're What?!. Anne Eames
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Michelle of Katharine Hepburn’s later years. “Nice to meet you, Michelle.” Too far to reach, both women offered friendly waves with bejeweled freckled hands.
“Nice to meet you both.” Michelle could see the mischief dancing in their eyes, not certain what they were up to, but deciding instantly she liked the pair.
Millie laced her fingers in front of her chest and smiled expectantly. “Michelle, allow me to introduce our new friend sitting next to you.”
Michelle turned sideways in her seat, her smile still on Millie who was obviously enjoying herself immensely. Finally Michelle faced the stranger to her right. He turned his head slowly, his square jaw and gray eyes scant inches away.
Oh, no. It couldn’t be.
But it was.
She knew a blush had turned her cheeks crimson, but she could do nothing to hide it. Fighting the urge to get up and run, she held out her hand as Millie finished.
“His name is Kevin. I always liked that name. And now with Kevin Costner and all…well, well…” She fanned herself and the others laughed. All but Kevin, who held Michelle’s gaze and didn’t smile.
“Kevin?” She hadn’t meant for it to sound like a question, but it came out that way.
“Michelle?” He cocked an eyebrow and mocked her response. She was about to drop her hand when he finally took it in his. “And so we meet again.”
“Oh! You two already know each other?” Millie asked.
Michelle pulled her hand back and straightened in her chair. “Not exactly. We just…saw each other on deck earlier.”
Millie pushed on. “We haven’t had much time to get acquainted, but Kevin told us he isn’t married. Are you, Michelle?”
Hazel reached across the table and slapped her sister’s hand. “Really, Millie. You can be such a busybody.”
Michelle took a sip of water and kept her eyes on the glass. “No, I’m not,” she said quietly, not wanting to underscore her answer.
Oh, God. A whole week of sharing meals with this man. How would she ever explain her earlier actions?
The waiter came and asked if anyone cared for a cocktail. What she’d give for a good stiff drink. But after this morning’s visit to the clinic, she’d sworn off alcohol just in case…
“And you, ma’am? Would you care for something?”
“I’ll have a Virgin Mary, please.”
Kevin started to laugh, then turned it into a cough and drank some water.
She wanted to turn on him and ask, “What’s your problem?” but she kept her face forward and smiled at the newlyweds, who had all but forgotten everyone else at the table.
Millie and Hazel kept up a running commentary on the menu until orders were taken. Then, later, between dainty bites of food, they educated the table on the history of the ship.
“She was originally called the S.S. France, you know,” Millie said.
“Did you know she’s as long as the Eiffel Tower is tall?” Hazel asked the group. Heads shook and the pair prattled on, no one seeming to mind, though Michelle hadn’t a clue what Kevin’s expression was. She hadn’t looked at him once since the introduction.
When it was time for dessert, Michelle pushed out her chair and stood. “It was very nice meeting all of you, but I think I’m going to call it a night.”
“Oh, so soon?” Millie pulled an exaggerated frown.
“I think we will, too.” Mark looked into Kathy’s eyes and she nuzzled closer to his side.
“Until tomorrow.” Michelle forced a smile and turned left, purposefully avoiding eye contact with Kevin. She walked away, back straight, gait slow. From the rear, she hoped she appeared relaxed and unruffled. Inside, she wanted to scream and run from the room.
Why did he have to be at her table?
Leaving the dining room, she quickened her pace to her room. Once inside, she kicked off her shoes and dropped onto the bed.
And why did he have to be so damnably good-looking? And Kevin, no less.
She closed her eyes and recalled his reaction when they’d met. What was it she’d seen in the brief moment she allowed herself to look him in the eye? Disdain? Arrogance? Curiosity? She couldn’t be sure. It had happened so fast and so unexpectedly.
Michelle inhaled deeply and blew out slowly. Relax. She had to relax. She stretched out on her back and stared at the ceiling.
“Okay. So it was embarrassing,” she said aloud. “Now what?”
She could ask for a new seat assignment, but then how would she explain it to Millie and Hazel and the newlyweds? Millie would certainly seek her out and ask why she’d moved. Besides, she liked these people. New table companions could be a lot worse.
No. She’d stay put.
So what about Kevin? She could A, explain her actions, or B, ignore it and hope things smoothed over.
She thought a moment about A. How would she explain? Well, you see Kevin, I was artificially inseminated this morning and I was looking for a certain face to use for the fantasy father. yada, yada, yada.
Right. He’d probably swallow that.
B it was. She’d look him in the eye, whenever necessary, and pretend nothing happened.
Michelle pushed off the bed, undressed and went about her nightly routine. Having decided she’d have the breakfast buffet on deck instead of at the table, she found her romance novel and climbed naked between the cool sheets.
Puffing a second pillow behind her head, she found her place and began to read.
She gazed into his steely gray eyes, and in that fleeting moment she knew he was the one.
Michelle slammed the book shut and turned out the light.
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