the bar when Zac strode past, barely breaking stride.
Oh, no. Seeing him now was too soon, too awkward, too much.
He faced the room and twenty women sighed in unison. She didn’t—she was supposed to be forgetting last night—but she couldn’t blame them. Not with him standing there looking decidedly sigh-worthy in navy shorts, white polo shirt, his ever-present charming smile in place.
‘Good morning, ladies. I can see you’re all keen to start working out if you’re up this early. Unfortunately Shelley had an accident ashore last night, and has a severely sprained ankle. So I’m sorry, but these classes will be cancelled for the remainder of the cruise.’
Loud groans echoed through the room as Lana bit back a grin. Sailor boy didn’t have a clue how desperate a bunch of women out for their daily endorphin fix could be, and if he thought a simple apology would cut it, he was in for a big surprise.
Zac was speaking again. ‘However, she’ll be able to check your gym programs from tomorrow. She’ll be here between ten and three, though purely in a supervisory role. Thanks for your understanding.’
His thanks were pre-emptive. No sooner had he finished speaking than angry women besieged him.
‘You’ve got to be joking. I’ve saved for five years to take this cruise and that’s it? No aerobic classes? I must do my classes every day.’
‘When I pay for service I damn well expect it!’
‘The ship’s company will be hearing about this when I get off this ship.’
‘Isn’t there anyone else to take over?’
He held up his hands, the smile long gone in the face of this terry-towelling tirade. ‘Ladies, please. If you’ll give me a chance to—’
‘Now, listen here, mister. This is my tenth cruise, and I’ve cruised with different shipping lines all over the world. So far the service on this ship stinks.’
A large woman crowbarred into a purple leotard stood toe to toe with Zac, hands planted on ample hips.
‘Ever since I set foot on this tub things have gone wrong. The air-conditioning in my cabin didn’t work, the balcony door jammed, the incompetent waiters mixed up my dinner, the dance instructor was called away at the last minute only to be replaced by the likes of you, and now this. What next?’
Another woman stepped forward, her rake-thin body clad in designer gear—the type you don’t sweat in—her coiffed blonde hair far too perfect for such an early hour of the morning.
‘I’m surprised, Mr McCoy. In my day a PR man knew how to handle life’s little dramas such as this. In fact, he was paid to promote the delights of cruising. You, on the other hand, don’t seem to be earning your wage at all. I would even say you’re rather incompetent.’
Oh-oh. The situation had turned from tense to downright ugly in the space of two minutes, and Lana felt sorry for him, wanting to help but unwilling to interfere.
Before he could utter a word, the designer dame jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction. ‘I presume you know who I am, Mr McCoy?’
He nodded, his lips set in a grim line but his confident aura firmly in place. Lana had glimpsed the same unflappable Zac last night, after the kiss, when she’d slammed her barriers back in place and taken her anger out on him.
‘Not only do Mr Rock and I contribute handsomely to this particular shipping line, our personal recommendations go a long way to securing promotions for staff onboard. Personally, I’m having a hard time finding any worthy staff on this ship.’
She punctuated the air with short, sharp jabs of her hand, lending weight to every word.
‘And, furthermore, I recommend you rectify this farce as soon as possible.’
She spun around and sailed out of the room like the Queen Mary, majestic, impressive, unstoppable.
Nobody deserved to be publicly berated like that and, taking in Zac’s tense posture and clenched jaw, Lana felt for him.
She knew what it was like to be on the receiving end of criticism like that—had faced it eight weeks earlier, when she’d appealed to the museum’s CEO to let her be the spokesperson on the Egypt trip.
The result? If her self-confidence hadn’t been much to start with, it had been non-existent after that meeting, when he’d told her in no uncertain terms she wasn’t ‘the face the museum is looking for’.
Apparently she was too reserved, too serious, too conservative. All perfectly legitimate qualities in a head curator, but not good enough to front TV cameras and reporters at the digs of their newest discovery. That honour had gone to her trainee, a woman with a bigger mouth, bigger boobs and a bigger wardrobe than her.
It had hurt. A lot. A whole damn lot.
She was brilliant at her job; it was the one thing that made her feel good about herself. Little wonder her limited self-esteem had plummeted as a result, and she needed this trip to give it a boost in the right direction.
Battling the sting of bitter tears threatening to complete her humiliation that day in the CEO’s office, she’d vowed to gain confidence and never be overlooked for a work opportunity again.
After that kiss last night she’d taken a huge backward step, retreat being her best form of defence.
But now she possessed skills to help Zac out. Maybe she could take another baby step forward? What better way than taking a class she’d been trained to do?
She taught at the museum all the time, instructed students and peers alike, and it was the only time she never felt selfconscious in front of a group. She enjoyed teaching, enjoyed imparting skills to others, so why not here, now?
Clenching and unclenching her hands several times, she shook them out, wishing she could shake off her nerves as easily.
Tension clawed at her tumbling tummy, and she inhaled in and out, long, slow breaths, to clear her head and give her clarity of thought.
Maybe not such a good idea, as the more she thought about it the more she wanted to bolt for the safety of her cabin. But hiding away wouldn’t improve her confidence.
It was now or never.
With a last deep indrawn breath, she marched towards Zac. ‘Could I have a word with you?’
He rubbed at the bridge of his nose as a low rumbling resumed through the gym. It was the first time he’d appeared faintly rattled. ‘Now isn’t the time.’
‘I can help. I’m a qualified fitness instructor. I can take this class right now, if you want me to.’
‘You’re a fitness instructor?’
He made it sound as if she was a space cadet, and his assessing gaze swept over her. Yeah, as if her outfit made any difference to her credentials.
‘You really want to do this?’
‘I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.’
