Destination Love. Gwynne Forster

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leaned forward. “In that case, you should use it. What else do they do in that spa?” She told him. “Let’s take that whirlpool treatment together tomorrow morning,” he said. She noticed that when he said it, his food got his undivided attention. “It could be fun. Is it bigger than a Jacuzzi?”

      “I was told that the water gives you a massage.”

      “Then let’s do it.”

      “Okay, but we have to make a reservation.” He told her that he would. “If the water’s moving around that much, couldn’t it be dangerous?”

      His face mirrored an expression of concern. “I doubt the ship company would offer a dangerous form of relaxation. If you won’t be comfortable with it, we won’t do that.”

      “But I think I’d enjoy it.”

      That wink again. “Then I’ll make our reservation for around eleven. An hour in that thing should be more than enough, and we can have lunch at twelve-thirty.”

      “Yeah,” she said. “Provided I’m not too sleepy to eat.”

      He went to the buffet table and returned with a dish of frozen banana yogurt for himself and a cherry cream cake for her.

      “You remembered,” she said when she saw what he brought for her. “Thanks.”

      “I will always remember everything about you,” he said. “You are not a woman that I could ever forget.”

      She knew that her entire demeanor showed her pleasure at his remarks. “I don’t think I could forget you, either, Wright.” And she wouldn’t. She wasn’t a virgin, but she hadn’t been made to feel that she had anything special to give to a man. Furthermore, she hadn’t met a man who treated her as if she was a woman he could love and care for. Maybe that was her fault. Until this cruise, she hadn’t realized how lacking she was in social skills and that those skills were as important as her academic abilities.

      She noticed that her comment drew a raised eyebrow from Wright. But she’d told the truth, and he’d have to deal with it. She wasn’t sure, but it seemed to her that he was looking at her differently. His eyes seemed warmer or…If math and statistics had taught her anything, it was the folly of guessing at facts. Still, something about him drew her right then, and she reached out. Embarrassed, she patted his hand and then withdrew her own.

      Why was he looking at her that way? “I think I’ll have a rest before we go clogging,” she said, needing to escape.

      He walked around to her side of the table, held her chair and, before she could get up, he leaned over her and kissed the side of her mouth. Shocked, she turned her head and met his mouth with her lips parted. Thank God he had the presence of mind not to push it, she thought. He grasped her shoulders as she stood.

      “I didn’t intend to do that, Wright.”

      She’d never seen such fiery eyes.

      “Trust me, I certainly didn’t do what I wanted to do. If we’d had a modicum of privacy, I’d have kissed you thoroughly. Meet you at the bar at three. Did you sign up for the clogging lessons?”

      She said she did. “The classes are around the corner from the bar. See you then.”

      He kissed her cheek. “Behave yourself.”

      “What? What else would I do?”

      He pointed to the entrance. “Does that guy always wear the same T-shirt? See you later.”

      “How would I know?” she said, feeling irritated at both men.

      “Hi,” Brian said. “I have not been waiting here for you, but I saw you were about to leave—”

      She interrupted him. “I’m not having a drink with you, Brian.”

      “Why not? I pay my taxes, I’m good to my mother, I’m not married and I’ve got a decent job. What’s wrong with me?”

      “I don’t know that anything is wrong with you, but I can only deal with one man at a time.”

      “And right now you’re dealing with what’s-his-name over there?”

      “I have to go, Brian. Bye.” She ducked around him and headed for the escalator. Maybe he was a nice guy who had originally misrepresented himself, but he did not make her pulse race as Wright did when he’d kissed her a few minutes earlier. What would it be like if he really kissed her?

      “Watch out, girl. Thinking things like that will get you in big trouble.”

      She set her alarm for two-thirty and stretched out on the bed. She could feel his mouth on her, and he didn’t stop at her lips. And, Lord, he was so wonderfully greedy. Her nipples ached, and her hot blood heated her loins. She awoke and sat up abruptly at the sound of the alarm clock.

      “Good grief! I promised to be at the bar at three o’clock.” She slipped into a pair of white shorts, a pale blue T-shirt and a pair of low-heel flats, grabbed her bag and raced to the bar.

      Wright watched as Sheri paused to speak with Brian King. The man was handsome and a charmer, and he’d rather not have the guy playing on his turf. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. He’d been fooling around as usual, playing a game—though, admittedly, he hadn’t had previous experience at being a player. He didn’t believe she’d intentionally kiss him on the mouth, because she was not an aggressive woman. At least, not with him. But if she felt what he felt, they’d have a time of reckoning before the boat docked again in Manchester.

      Isn’t that what you planned? his conscience nagged. When he learned that I wouldn’t graduate with my class, my dad cried, he reminded himself.

      In his room, he finished the chapter on the loss of his family’s house during his childhood and how his father built a log cabin for his family to live in. Precisely what I need to keep my head straight about Sheri Stephens, he said to himself as he was putting his writing pad away. He hadn’t used his laptop for that passage because he knew the writing would be difficult, and he thought best with a pen in his hand. One more short chapter, and he’d put the final period to it.

      “Hi. I meant to be on time, but I fell asleep.”

      He took her hand and walked with her to the dance floor. “Thanks for telling me. I was afraid that yellow T-shirt had hijacked you. That guy is tenacious.”

      “Maybe he’s not such a bad person.”

      “No? What changed your mind?”

      “Nothing. It’s just…what harm can he do on a boat out in the Atlantic?”

      “Sheri, I don’t believe you said that. You cannot be that naive.” Her stare reminded him of a child who’d been unjustly accused. Her vulnerability got to him deep inside, and before he realized what he did, he hugged her and stroked her back in a gesture of genuine caring and affection.

      The sound of Earl Scruggs’s “Foggy Mountain Breakdown” saved them the need to acknowledge the moment’s reality. “Relax your shoulders, drop your hands to your

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