The Surprise De Angelis Baby. Cathy Williams

       CHAPTER THREE

      DELILAH HADN’T CATERED for dining under a starry sky with an Adonis. When she thought of guys at all now she vaguely assumed that the one meant for her would be a little dull, a little staid and a lot reliable. She’d had her brush with adventure and had pronounced herself jaded with love, only interested in a guy who would never use her, let her down or make inflated pie-in-the-sky promises he had no intention of keeping because he had girlfriends in every other port.

      She hadn’t been looking for racing pulses and sweaty excitement, and she couldn’t quite believe that racing pulses and sweaty excitement had found her.

      Consequently she possessed nothing in her wardrobe that was remotely suitable for dining with a man like Daniel. He hadn’t talked about his love life, but she imagined him with lots and lots of beautiful women—the female equivalent of him. Head-turning model-types who wouldn’t wear long skirts and baggy tops.

      Somehow, despite his artistic inclinations, she couldn’t picture him actually going out with an artist. At least, none of the artists she knew.

      In the end at precisely six-thirty, after a quick shower in her cramped en-suite bathroom, she extracted the dressiest of her outfits from the single unit wardrobe.

      Another long skirt, but black, and a fitted tee shirt with sleeves to the elbows—also black.

      At five foot ten, she owned no high shoes at all, so she slipped on a pair of ballet pumps, giving a welcome rest to her flip-flops.

      She left her hair loose.

      Even in the brief length of time it had been exposed to the blistering sun it had lightened in colour. She was accustomed to tying it back. It was just more practical. Now, staring at her reflection in the mirror, she realised that the long, unruly hair she had always wished she could tame didn’t look half bad.

      Heart beating madly, she made her way to the outer deck to find him—she had had no idea where exactly he might be.

      The sky was velvety black and pricked with tiny glittering stars. As he had said the ocean, dark and fathomless, was as still as a sheet of glass. The air was balmy, salty, indescribably fresh.

      The sound of the passengers inside was barely discernible out here. There were a few couples strolling around, but most had confined themselves to the upper deck, which was more brightly lit and allowed easier access to the entertainment taking place inside.

      Tonight, someone was doing a cabaret, and Delilah guiltily thought that it was a true indication of the finances of the liner that the person singing was really not terribly good—but then, as with Stan, Alfie, who was in charge of entertainment, was working on a tight budget.

      * * *

      Having managed to secure a charming and very secluded spot on the liner, Daniel was waiting for Delilah to track him down.