fact, as a male who lately had chosen a long period of celibacy, he had needed to make a quick retreat from the plane in order to hide his body’s immediate reaction to the feel of hers.
Joshua opened his eyes and glanced at his watch. Five minutes before he had to leave for the Last Frontier staff meeting. He let his thoughts drift. Kit hadn’t mentioned where she was going. Miami was a connection to just about anywhere.
Not that it mattered at this point in his life. Kit O’Brien would never fit into his world. She was parties and fancy clothes. He was jeans and a cowboy hat, mud and muck and the farm near Syracuse, New York. Her limo probably took her everywhere. He always took the subway in the city.
In a little less than three weeks he would ride his horse every morning through the orchards, supervise the dairy operation and return full-time to his nonfiction writing, a career he had put on hold once he had begun scripting Last Frontier. She’d be deep in the party rounds of the “A” list society Christmas season.
Still, he thought with a grin as he closed his eyes and pictured the way Kit’s yellow knit skirt clung to and revealed her shapely, toned legs, she was something to behold.
Chapter Two
Four hours later Kit attempted to concentrate on figuring out the world of Last Frontier. Her roommates hadn’t sighted any of the cast members, although they’d certainly talked about one of them, a Joshua Parker, more than the others.
“Kit!”
Kit looked over at Georgia, who was waving a hand in front of Kit’s face. “Yes?”
“You’re looking a little pale. Are you okay? Do you need me to wrap your ankle? I brought an elastic bandage.”
“No thanks, Georgia, I’m fine. Really. I told you it’s nothing.” Kit smiled reassuringly. Just her luck to have twisted her ankle in front of a hypochondriac.
Georgia looked like a dubious mother hen. “If you say so. If you change your mind I’ve got the bandage right here in my purse. I never travel without an emergency kit.”
With that Georgia began watching a video on one of the Topsider Lounge’s screens. Reminding Kit of a hotel dance club, the lounge consisted of chrome rails and raised seating areas. The topmost seating was upstairs on the Compass Deck, which sounded glamorous but was really just a deck surrounding the outside of the lounge.
Kit wasn’t quite sure what to make of her roommates. Freely admitting to being a rabid fan of Last Frontier, Georgia was obviously the leader, even picking out the table on the main level.
“Here comes the waitress. What does everyone want? This round’s on me.” Georgia announced. Paula and Becca, Kit’s other roommates, offered no resistance and ordered cocktails.
Kit shook her head in refusal, but to no avail. Georgia ordered, anyway, and the waitress moved away.
“I got you some wine.” Georgia studied Kit matter-of-factly. “You only had one glass of champagne with dinner.”
“Really, I usually try to have only one.” In fact, it had been months since she had had more than one glass of wine, except for wine tasting, and then the procedure was to spit it out.
Kit’s protest fell on deaf ears as Georgia cut her off. “You’ll have one glass of wine, honey. It’s good for the arteries, and it’s not like you’re driving anywhere, sugar. Has anyone seen either Bob or Joshua yet?” Georgia turned to search the room for her idols.
Kit smiled wryly. Again Georgia had told her how life was going to be. Georgia and her father would probably get along great, but Kit just didn’t have the heart to upset Georgia the way she would her father.
The waitress returned with the drinks at the same time a cruise representative arrived on the dance floor with a microphone. Kit took a small sip of her wine, rolled it over her tongue and wrinkled her nose. Bottom-grade white zinfandel. Her father had subjected her to a wine course when she was twenty-one. While she had found the class boring, it had been the way he’d finally let her into her chosen profession. Her father didn’t want her to work, and writing about wine had been her entry into magazine features.
She snapped to attention as everyone began clapping and cheering. She had missed the introduction of the man who now took the stage. Kit craned her neck and surveyed him. He was about fifty. Could this be her subject?
“Who?” She whispered at Paula’s back.
“Bill Davies, the executive producer. His production company owns and distributes the show. He bought Joshua’s pilot.” Paula didn’t even turn around.
“Oh.” Kit leaned back in her chair. Frustrated that she wouldn’t know until tomorrow, she studied the crowd of people who called themselves LaFrofans. Second only to Trekkies in their loyalty and devotion, Kit knew that each had shelled out at least $1,000 to come on the cruise. The room was about 60 percent women, and many of them were obviously with husbands or significant others. The participants’ ages ranged from a few women Kit’s age to some appearing about seventy, with the average age somewhere around late thirties to early forties.
A confused awareness suddenly caused her spine to prickle. Someone was looking at her. Kit swiveled around in her seat to look behind her, her gaze instantly connecting with that of the man from the plane.
What in the world was he doing here? He stood watching her from the doorway, the look of surprise on his face quickly masked. He didn’t even have the decency to turn away. Instead he continued his obvious stare, a slight sardonic smile turning his full lips upward. Kit straightened her back when his raised eyebrows signaled his amusement, and then, after a haughty shake of her head, she turned forward again.
“What is it, Kit?” Georgia frowned. “Is anything wrong?”
“Uh, no. I just saw some guy I sat next to on the plane.” Whoever the man from the plane was, she could not acknowledge him now. It was better to pretend they’d never met. She had a job to do.
“Georgia!” Paula’s whisper seemed to echo, and Kit started. “Look! There! In the doorway! Look!”
Georgia turned around, as did just about everyone else in the vicinity of Paula’s loud whisper.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God! It’s him!” Georgia’s voice came out in a breathless rush, and Kit thought Georgia was about to have a major heart attack.
The buzz hummed loudly in the room, and Georgia began babbling about how good he looked in black, and as the room erupted into a thunder of cheers and clapping, the man from the plane strode easily into the room and joined Bill Davies on the dance floor. Fans jumped to their feet, but Kit stayed rooted to her chair, doomed.
Oh, my God, Kit mentally repeated Georgia’s words, but with dread instead of enthusiasm. The man from the plane was none other than Joshua Parker, the man her roommates fawned over. Kit’s mortification flared. She’d never expected to see him again, the man she’d shared sexual innuendoes with. Yet here he was, and worse, he was someone famous!
Somewhere she must have crossed a leprechaun, because she certainly didn’t have the luck of her Irish ancestors.
“Sorry, Kit,” Georgia said, breathlessly fanning herself with her hand. “Every
