You're What?!. Anne Eames

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