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  Dylan saw Michaela walking toward the food queue, and a physical memory of the kiss rippled through him.

  Act professional.

  He was never like this back home in the boardroom, even when he was hunting down a competitor’s assets.

  The room was large. Not large enough to accommodate all the crew at one time, but certainly large enough for the hundreds of crew members to eat as their shifts dictated, and at this time of the evening the long tables were mostly full. He took a breath and approached her and the food.

  “Hi,” he said into her ear, stepping up behind her in the queue.

  Michaela jumped. “Stop doing that.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t mean to put you on edge.”

  She eyeballed him with a tawny glare that met his challenge. Nice.

  “That was a quick shower,” she said, then wrinkled her nose, sniffed the air, and smirked. “Pretty perfume. Is that vanilla? Or peach? Interesting choice.”

  Great. Bloody Jake and his girly shower stuff.

  “I had to steal some of Jake’s shampoo. Smells a bit weird,” he said. Dylan watched her face, trying to decipher her thoughts, but after that initial taunt she had thrown her guard back up. Are you just being professional, or do I make you nervous?

  He couldn’t resist probing her a little. Dylan glanced at the food, looking for a topic to get her talking. “Italian, my favorite,” he said.

  “It’s spinach cannelloni,” she stated flatly.

  “Great. I’m starving.”

  “Yes, I guess putting on weight isn’t much of a worry for you,” she said, patting her trim waistline.

  Was she looking for compliments after all? It was his turn to smirk. “You hardly have to worry. You look like you’ll never really have a problem with putting on weight. Fit young thing like you.” He paused and shook his head. “You didn’t tell me your age last night, but maybe you’re older than you look. You can’t have risen through the ranks fast enough to make it if you really are only in your twenties.”

  Michaela seemed to search his eyes. “Indeed.”

  Lazy flirting wasn’t going to work. He should have known that—she was smart enough to see right through him. They filled their trays with the piping-hot cannelloni, salad, and juice, and Dylan headed over to the table with the rest of the dancers.

  “Coming?” he asked.

  It seemed like she was about to refuse when the captain walked in. Scanning the room, Dylan noticed that apart from the seats with the dance team, there was only room at one other table.

  “Sure,” Michaela said as she stole a glance at the captain.

  His hackles rose on her behalf. “No need to let him rattle you, remember.”

  His words worked—she visibly relaxed.

  Great. He’d meant what he said about letting the captain make his own mistakes. He’d wanted to give similar advice to Lily countless times, but it was difficult to tell your sister-in-law that your brother was almost certainly going to hurt her all over again, so he’d bitten his tongue.

  Following Michaela to their table, he wanted to put his arm around her, show the captain what he’d missed out on.

  Calm down. Too much too soon, and she’ll run scared or get the wrong idea.

  “So where did you learn to dance like that?” she asked as he sat, interrupting his musing.

  This wasn’t what he’d been planning. He wanted more of her story, not to be grilled on the half truths he’d told to get onboard. Dylan paused and checked her eyes before continuing. “I’ve had an old Russian teacher for years. He gives me private lessons.”

  Hoping to divert her, he asked, “Where are you from originally? Your accent is a bit mixed.”

  Michaela nodded. “I was born in Wellington, in New Zealand, but my family moved to Canada when I was a teenager. I went back and forth for a while until this job, where I’m back and forth even more.”

  “Must have been a bit hard.”

  “Not really. I got the best of both worlds. The small-town freedom of New Zealand and the opportunities of education and work in Canada.”

  Better. “I guess that’s true.” Through a mouthful of cheesy pasta, he smiled. “You miss anything from home? Wind through the trees perhaps? Wellington’s good for that.”

  She smiled. “I’m not sure I’d say I missed it, but the big greenbelt up behind where we lived when I was a kid did have a magical quality when the wind whistled through it.” Forking up some more pasta, she paused. “My sister and I used to make hideouts and tracks through the macrocarpa pines when we were growing up. We hid secret messages for each other—oh, and for the birds. That’s probably the bit I miss most, spending time with my sister.”

  A sister. Dylan added to his mental list of Michaela’s qualities: smart, independent, driven, and values family.

  She fixed him with a careful stare. “So you know Wellington, then?” She set her fork down.

  “Oh, yes. I…” He stopped himself. He didn’t want her getting too close to the truth of his background. “I’ve done quite a lot of work there. I was living in Sydney most recently. I do sometimes miss the sound of the Wellington wind in the trees, though.”

  “You’ll get used to not hearing the wind in the trees. The music the ocean makes will replace it. You might even like it better. It’s a pretty beautiful soundtrack with the slap of the water against the side of the ship, the pull and ping of the rigging on the lifeboats, and the sea birds as we come into port.”

  Her eyes glazed, as if seeing what she described. There really was something about her that was enticing. Dylan found himself wanting to drag her to bed so he could have her all to himself for a lot longer than dinner.

  Soon.

  He smiled. Thank goodness she hadn’t seemed to notice how he’d fudged where he grew up, or his reluctance to talk about his dance training. Old Mr. Grevorgian had been elated when Dylan told him he was taking a break from work so he could dance for three months. The private lessons from his Russian neighbor over the last ten years had been Dylan’s secret release.

  Thank goodness Mr. Grevorgian was a masterful teacher—so much so that Dylan had been able to fake his way through the cruise audition.

  Dylan searched for other topics to keep Michaela’s attention away from his background. “What are the ports like?”

  “Some of them are really beautiful. Everyone is always excited about New Caledonia and Fiji, but I love Vanuatu. Oh, and Norfolk Island, too.”

  “Really?” Everything he’d read about Norfolk Island, the small subsidiary of Australia, had made it seem a bit dowdy. Certainly not the sort of glamorous location he’d assumed a cruise director would be attracted to.

  “There are wonderful forest walks and loads of birds. And it’s easier to get away from the crowds. I’m not such a fan of all the organized tours. I prefer to go off on my own.”

  Dylan looked at her. That was exactly the way he felt, but he’d never believed others onboard would feel the same. He had assumed that a love for the shiny gloss of package tours would be inbuilt into the DNA of cruise staff.

  If he wasn’t careful, he was going to find himself agreeing with everything she said.

  You were the one who wanted to talk more.

  Yes, but he hadn’t figured on enjoying her conversation so much.

  He watched his boss as she kept talking. It was obvious she was enjoying the conversation, too. The way she coiled her hair around a finger, the way her body leaned in toward his—her whole posture spoke volumes.

  Dylan felt the familiar glow of pride in a job well done.

  She was as good as his.

  Michaela was shocked at how relaxed she felt. Again. And this was a man who had only minutes ago kissed her in front of her whole entertainment team.

  He’d changed into casual clothes after his shower, and the soft hug of his white T-shirt and faded denim shorts made her more aware of his pale-olive skin and toned body.

  Dylan’s bare arm next to hers was fle
cked with golden hair, and the muscle underneath the warm skin called out to be touched.

  This conflict of attraction and relaxation was alarming, Michaela decided, admitting finally to herself that she was very much affected by Dylan Johns.

  “I think I’m going to go again. Do you want another serving?”

  His words snapped her out of her reverie. “No, thanks,” she said. “I don’t have George to make sure I burn every calorie I put between my lips.”

  He smiled and stood to refill his plate.

  Michaela thought about his lips. Oh, she would like to feel those lips again. Her mention of George made her remember their earlier conversation.

  He’ll need a woman.

  She’d be just the woman.

  God, no. Dylan might be a great dancer, a good listener, and give good advice but…but what?

  But she was his boss.

  She looked over at the food line and spotted the captain going up for seconds. What had she ever seen in him? Further up the line, Dylan bent to reach for something, the movement tightening his shorts over his butt. He was so much more of a man than anyone else on board, and he treated her like an adult. It was wonderfully refreshing after spending so much time with all the young kids on her team, who just seemed to want to hide from her.

  Dylan Johns. Even his name felt good in her mouth.

  Could she?

  She didn’t have long to go on her contract, and she’d promised herself she’d look for a new placement after this. Michaela looked around her at the world she’d called home for the last six years. The cafeteria’s walls weren’t dirty so much as worn, the tables scuffed, the floor scratched after so many chairs being pulled out and pushed in over and over.

  That’s a bit like how I feel.

  It was time. Time to move on.

  She turned to talk to one of the female dancers at the table, but the girl ducked her head, afraid of talking to her boss.

  Am I that scary?

  Dylan didn’t seem to think so. She looked over at him again.

  Jake, the youngest of the male dancers, came up behind him, and his words drifted toward Michaela. “You poor darling,” the man said. “How are you holding up? Sorry we haven’t rescued you from the cruise director, but no one else wants to sit with her. Thanks for being such a superstar.”

  Oh, God. They did all think she was cold and heartless.

  “No problem,” Dylan said. His eyes darted in her direction, and she looked away, not wanting him to know she was listening.

  “You’re the perfect choice,” Jake blurted enthusiastically. “You can sweep her off her feet with your dashing good looks, despite it being a cruel waste. Kissing her was a stroke of genius—unbelievably risky, but genius. She’ll leave us all alone in case you leap at her again. I almost died at the look on her face. Perhaps she’ll let us get on with our own wonderful pleasure now.”

  Dylan simply nodded.

  A hard knot of anger slowly built inside Michaela.

  “I’m just so lucky that Marvin the marvelous is such a wonderful dancer. I think our timing is going to be perfect.”

  “I’m sure.”

  Michaela wanted to curl up under the table. It was too much like the conversations the captain would “accidentally” let her overhear. He’d belittle her to other men in his team, but when she confronted him about it, he always claimed to be doing it for her benefit. Michaela had never believed that all the men in his team really needed to be so reassured that having a woman in charge wasn’t a threat to their masculinity. And she’d never believed the captain didn’t derive enjoyment from knowing she overheard.

  “It’s so important for one’s lover to be able to dance, don’t you think?” Jake asked. “I don’t think I could ever be with someone who couldn’t dance. I did feel for you, having to dance with the boss. The poor woman has two left feet.”

  “Uh-huh. Must be why I’m single.”

  “Oh, darling. I think it’s because you’ll never find a woman who can dance like you. Keep up the good work, though. You’re giving us all space to breathe by wooing madam cruise director.”

  Michaela had heard enough. She shook off her fury and embarrassment as she stood. “Just remembered some paperwork,” she muttered to the rest of the table and fled the room.

  When would she ever learn? Relationships and cruise ships did not mix.

  “It’s his damn eyes,” she whispered, and sighed. He’s not all that. So what if I can’t dance? I’m still his boss.

  She smiled as she realized the full potential of her own words. She was his boss, and she was going to make sure he knew it.

  Chapter Four

  “Good afternoon, and welcome to the Pacific Empress!” Michaela’s voice, amplified tenfold, echoed over the speakers around the ship.

  This was the first cruise of the season, and everyone had energy to spare. Flashes of navy and white appeared from around every corner as crew did last-minute checks, calmed passengers who’d forgotten things, and watched serenely over the security of the enormous ship. Passengers were still streaming aboard, their faces bright and expectant or harried and red, depending on the state of their luggage and children. She rattled through her standard welcome speech, so used to it that she barely needed to concentrate.

  Michaela smiled as she thought of Dylan stuck on the meet-and-greet table. That would show him who needed distracting, thinking he was doing everyone a favor keeping her out of their way.

  She’d given him the most exhausting job she could think of, one requiring a constant smile and a bucketload of patience as children and parents alike ran around the ship getting lost and scared and overexcited all day long. And that was only the beginning of what she had in store for him. She smirked.

  Michaela looked out the window at the land outside and marveled as she always did at how big the ship was. Dwarfing the terminal they were moored beside, the cruise ship’s twelve floors were significantly higher than most of the structures close by. People lined the harbor, ogling the ship, and Michaela remembered her own awe when she first set eyes on what was to be her home for so many years.

  Even from this height, she could see the envy in some of those faces. The ship was a manifestation of travel and adventure, and Michaela allowed the warm glow of pride to settle around her shoulders. This was an amazing job. She wasn’t about to let her strange mixed feelings for some dancer stop her from enjoying every aspect of it.

  “Whether this is your first or fiftieth cruise, we know that our entertainment team is going to impress you today,” Michaela carried on. “Tonight we have the first of many wonderful stage shows, with dancers and singers from around the world.” Fabulously rude dancers, she wanted to add. “There are two showings, and they’re always packed, so make sure you get to the theater early to grab a seat. The fun continues after dinner with Dancing Beneath the Stars. This poolside party will kick off at nine thirty p.m. with the band and my entertainment staff. We’ll see you there!” She signed off and flicked the switch on the intercom.

  “Should be a good cruise.” Captain Atkinson was suddenly behind her, and Michaela jumped. What was with him and Dylan sneaking up on her? The rebuke that had formed on her lips went unsaid. She could hardly tell the captain off for being here. It was his bridge.

  “It’s always a good one,” she said, forcing herself to be chirpy and determined to remain this way for the rest of the cruise.

  “Good team by the looks of things. Some of those new recruits are top-notch.”

  Michaela looked quickly at the captain, checking to make sure he wasn’t insinuating anything about Dylan, but he wasn’t even looking at her. Of course he wasn’t insinuating anything.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Her mantra only made her think of Dylan and his thoughtful advice. Why did he have to turn out to be playing her just like the captain had?

  The rest of the day was a blur. There were so many things to organize for the rest of the cruise, and the buzz of e
xcitement that the passengers exuded like a cloud seemed to infect her staff.

  The first night’s party set the tone for the rest of the cruise. Michaela kept busy briefing the band, checking with the various maître d’s that the complimentary fruit kebabs would be ready and with the bar staff that they were primed to serve the night’s special cocktail.

  “Cool, are these new?”

  Michaela turned to see Felicity holding up one of the illuminated cocktail glasses sent over for this trip. “Yes, they light up when you push here. Neat, hey?”

  “Guess it makes the cleaner’s job of finding empty glasses a lot easier.”

  Michaela smiled. She hadn’t thought of that, but it was a good point.

  “Until the batteries run out,” Felicity added as she turned the glass over.

  “Oh, no, they’ve got a tiny solar chip.”

  “Really? Jeez, how much did they cost?” Felicity’s eyes were wide.

  “I don’t know. That’s your job, isn’t it?”

  “Nothing to do with me, that’s a head office expense.” The two women looked at each other. “Head office” was a ubiquitous concept, usually blamed for anything unexplainable. If passengers complained that their room wasn’t quite what they had ordered and there were no other rooms available, the standard “I’ll check with head office” was always a get-out-of-jail-free card.

  Michaela sometimes felt sorry for the faceless people toiling away in a high rise somewhere in Sydney who were tasked with making sure the scores of Adventurer Cruise ships were organized and well stocked with passengers. Landing a job at head office had been at the top of her wish list when she’d started out with Adventurer Cruises. The captain had laughed at her when she told him, saying she’d need to put in at least two years as cruise director before they’d even consider her, and after the fiasco of their relationship she’d put the idea aside.

  It’s a powerful job, though. Maybe I could put it back on the list just to show him.

  “Head office would definitely be a good career challenge,” she said.

  “What?”

  “Did I say that out loud?”