though they were pale. The black of the swimsuit complemented her black hair and the milky color of her skin was a startling, sexy contrast. Sarah had on black sunglasses, through which she was reading…he couldn’t tell what, for sure. It looked like a copy of the New England Journal of Medicine, but she snapped it shut and tucked it into her big straw bag the instant she saw him. It was probably a fashion magazine, he decided as he headed toward her. Or another of the women’s specialty magazines available from the ship’s store.
She tilted her head down and gave him a long, cool glance up and over the top of her dark glasses before she finally spoke. “So, you are spying on me.”
“I admitted it once, and I’m sticking to it.”
“Have you come to do a blood test? You’re so dedicated that you’ll chase your patients down no matter where they’re hiding?”
“I’d like to say yes but, unfortunately, I don’t have my medical equipment with me. I’m afraid I’m off duty right now, too.”
“Somehow, I doubt that you’re ever really off duty,” she said, that cool stare of hers continuing. It was cool, but not unfriendly. More like wary. “You strike me as one of those doctors who lives and breathes his work. Dedicated beyond reason. Otherwise why would you become a ship’s doctor? I don’t imagine you can ever really get away from it here, can you?”
“Actually, I have this little hiding place where I go so I can get away. No one knows about it, no one goes there, except…”
“Me?” she ventured. “Just like I know about your booth in the karaoke lounge?”
“It is funny, isn’t it, how we keep bumping into each other in all the places no one else wants to go? You know, the secluded places.”
“I’m antisocial,” she reminded him with a hint of a smile tweaking her lips. “What’s your excuse, other than you’re spying on me?”
His leg was starting to ache even more now, that dull throb he despised that had never completely gone away, and he really needed to sit down. He hated it when this happened. The reminder, the memories…of so many things he wanted to forget. Damn, he hated it! “My excuse is that I’ve been coming here for the better part of a year now.”
She arched her eyebrows…beautifully sculpted eyebrows. Everything about Sarah Collins was beautifully sculpted, in fact. “Well, then, by all means, you should sit down.”
“And interrupt you?”
“You’re assuming that you being here would interrupt me.”
“Would it?” he asked, summoning every bit of determination he had to fight off the inevitable limp that came when he was tired…fight it off long enough to take the last ten steps toward the deck chair next to her. Gritting his teeth, he took one step, then another. Sure, it was a vanity thing, being self-conscious like he was. There was no disgrace in his disability. But, damn, he had the right to hold onto a little vanity, didn’t he? His limp caused questions, which required explanations. And the whole sordid story, once he’d explained it, brought pity, which he didn’t want. Especially not from someone like Sarah Collins. So he took another few steps toward her, until he finally reached the chair. Then he sat, letting out an involuntary sigh of relief. Two hours off his feet, and he’d be fine. But one thing was sure—those two hours were going to be spent right here. He didn’t have it in him to get up again. So if Sarah stayed, he’d spend them with her, and if she didn’t stay…
“There’s nothing to interrupt,” she said. “I was doing exactly what you intend to do, enjoying a little sun well away from the crowds. Having someone else doing the same alongside me wouldn’t be an interruption.”
“But an intrusion, perhaps?” he asked, shifting to find a comfortable position.
“I don’t think you’re an intrusion. But if that becomes the case, I’ll let you know.” With that, she pushed her sunglasses up again, making her intention not to converse quite clear. Then, out of the blue, “You don’t snore, do you?” she asked. “Because if you do, that’s an intrusion.”
He chuckled. What was it about her that he liked so much? She put up walls, and she wasn’t engagingly friendly either. Polite when interaction was forced on her but remaining at a distance. And so damned intriguing that he didn’t even care if they spent the next two hours lounging next to each other without speaking a word.
The truth was, he liked Sarah Collins.
While she hadn’t been looking for him, not consciously, on some unexplainable level she wasn’t displeased that he’d found her. On a limited basis, Michael Sloan was rather pleasant company. Sarah found herself wishing, just a little, that she could talk in-depth about medicine with him, though. She’d just read a brilliant article in the New England Journal on advances in medication used to treat hypertension, and she would have loved some lively discussion on that with a colleague. But she had to remind herself almost daily that she’d left medicine behind her, then content herself with the void in her life that that decision had caused.
Unfortunately, the passion hadn’t left her, which was why she wasn’t engaging him this very moment. She stayed away from medicine because she could so easily be drawn back.
Although, as a doctor, she had noticed his limp. She hadn’t stared, of course, especially with the way he had been trying so hard not to limp. Male ego, probably. In her experience as a doctor, the one thing she’d learned well was that men preferred to grit their teeth and bear it rather than admitting a weakness. Actually, that’s what had almost killed Cameron. He’d been tired, he’d been losing weight. He’d blamed it on working too much, even though she’d asked him to have himself checked out. And he a doctor! Well, the dreadful truth had turned out to be leukemia. The other dreadful truth was that she should have insisted on him getting checked, then kept on insisting when he’d refused. Even tied him up and dragged him to a clinic, if she’d had to. But she hadn’t. Probably because avoidance and denial had been easier.
Luckily for Cameron, his ending turned out to be a happy one in so many ways. He’d beaten his cancer, found a perfect wife and now they had a family.
It seemed, though, that the good doctor lying next to her right now was much the same as Cameron. Too stubborn, or too large an ego…she didn’t know which. But it was on the tip of her tongue to say something to him. To ask him what was wrong, and if he’d sought medical attention. Which was none of her business. Still, he’d shown a sufficient amount of pain to someone with a trained eye, and whether or not she was calling herself a doctor these days, she was concerned. “Do you ever get time off?” she asked, not sure how to broach the subject without seeming too medical about it.
“Between cruises. A few days here and there.”
“Nothing sustained, though? Maybe a few weeks where you can go and treat yourself to some real rest? On one of these tropical islands where we’re going to stop on the cruise, perhaps?”
“Social worker,” he said.
“What?”
“Last night, I was trying to figure out what you do. My guess right now is social worker. You show just the right amount of concern for other people’s concerns, which would make you a very good social worker.”
“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment because I admire anyone who has the dedication to be a social worker
