You're What?!. Anne Eames
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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.
When they approached the table a few minutes later, they chose different seats on opposite sides, then sat and stared at the menu selections. They avoided eye contact for several minutes, until the waiter took their orders and removed their props. Now Michelle let her gaze travel slowly to his, her heart thudding beneath her sundress. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this way around a man. And she wasn’t sure she liked it. It wasn’t part of her plan at all. Making peace with this stranger was one thing; getting hot and bothered was quite another.
“Do you swim?” Kevin asked, seeming unaware of her musings.
“Y-yes,” she stammered. “Nothing too serious, though. Just like to play around. in the water,” she finished quickly, feeling like a babbling fool.
“I noticed you had a book with you the other day. After lunch, why don’t we put on our suits, catch up on our reading and hang out at the pool for a while?”
She just stared at him, thinking of the skimpy new bikini in her room.
“Unless you’d rather have the afternoon to yourself…”
“No,” she practically shouted. Then finding a remnant of poise, she started again. “No. Your idea sounds perfect.”
Lunch was served and she turned her attention to her chicken salad and melon, grateful when Kevin filled in the spaces with idle talk of the ship and the weather. He truly was a kind and interesting man.
And so good-looking.
Each time she met his steely gray eyes, she thought he could read her mind. If she didn’t find the old cynical Michelle pretty damn quick, he was certain to revert to his original opinion of her.
How she finished her meal and found her cabin, she wasn’t quite sure. But now, standing in front of the mirror, appraising her chartreuse bikini, she wondered how she’d get through the afternoon without making a total fool of herself. How could she act poised around him dressed like this? A shudder coursed through her as she wrapped herself in a white cotton cover-up and slipped into a pair of sandals. Halfway out the door she