for the hour she jumped around every morning she was just like the rest of the sweaty women around her, when no make-up and casual clothes weren’t a big deal.
After a quick shower, she donned her favourite capri pants—in urgent need of replacing, considering the frayed cuffs—and a plain white T-shirt. She had a ton of them, as they went with everything. Then she slipped her feet into a pair of well-worn slingbacks.
Beth had shuddered when she’d seen her casual outfits, but, hey, she’d always been a comfort-over-style girl. Besides, she didn’t adhere to the old ‘dress to impress’ motto. She used her brain to get people to notice her. Discounting last night, when her intellect had gone AWOL.
Prove it, she’d dared Zac. All very brave in the heat of the moment, when she’d fired off the retort without thinking it through properly, but now, in the clear light of a perfect summer’s day, her resolve wavered.
It was one thing setting out to build confidence by trying new things, but challenging a pro like Zac to flirt with her could only end in disaster.
He’d pushed her, taunted her till she’d snapped. He couldn’t have known she’d react that way, for she still couldn’t believe she’d done it herself. And while she now regretted her outburst, a small part of her was jumping up and down with joy at the unusual flash of bravado.
The old, sensible, conservative Lana would have ducked her head, pushed her ancient glasses up her nose and ignored him. She would have scuffed her well-worn sensible shoes under the table, tugged on the hem of her favourite shapeless sweatshirt and made a quick escape. She’d always taken the safe route, always done the right thing, always focussed on her career and nothing else.
She was the diligent employee, the dependable colleague, the model girlfriend, the reliable cousin. And where had it got her?
She’d been dumped, overlooked for a brilliant opportunity at work, and had come on this cruise for one reason and one reason only: to gain confidence socially and ensure she was never passed over at work again.
If she couldn’t rely on her job, the one thing in this world she knew she was good at, what hope did she have?
Maybe standing up to brash sailors and proving she wasn’t a push-over fell into the category of confidence-building?
With a shake of her head—as if that would dislodge the memory of making a fool of herself with that rash challenge—she headed for the lido deck, where continental breakfast was being served. She helped herself to a plate of mango, melon and pineapple, before finding a table next to the floor-to-ceiling glass overlooking the Pacific Ocean, stretching as far as she could see, its undulating swell infinitely soothing.
Her apartment in Coogee had an ocean view, though nothing as gorgeous as this. She’d deliberately chosen a sea view for its calming qualities and, boy, had she needed it when she’d first moved to Sydney from Melbourne, hell-bent on leaving her past behind.
‘Enjoying the view this morning?’
She glanced up, her pulse-rate accelerating in an instant. Zac—in a navy polo shirt and matching shorts, his hair recently washed and slicked back, resident charming smile in place—rivalled the ocean in the stunning stakes.
She took a sip of water, trying to ease the dryness in her throat. ‘Yes, it’s spectacular.’
He wasn’t looking at the view. Instead, that steady, captivating blue-eyed gaze remained riveted to her. ‘Spectacular would describe it perfectly.’
She blushed and glanced down, toying with the fruit on her plate rather than face his intense scrutiny.
What made her think she could practise gaining confidence with this guy? He was a major player, and she’d barely graduated from Little League.
‘You really should try some of that mango rather than playing with it. It’s succulent this time of year.’
The way he said ‘succulent’ fascinated her; tripping from his lips, it almost sounded obscene.
‘Shouldn’t you be circulating amongst the passengers?’
She speared a piece of juicy mango and bit into it, trying to appear casual yet anxious to fob him off.
As if in slow motion he reached his index finger towards the corner of her mouth, where a rivulet of juice had started to run, and wiped it up.
Shaken to her core, she watched him lick the droplet of juice from his fingertip in a shockingly intimate gesture.
‘Mmm—tasty.’
His smouldering gaze dropped to her lips before sweeping back to her eyes, triumphant blue clashing with shell-shocked hazel.
‘You’re right. I should get back to work. I can’t have my time monopolized by one woman,” he teased, before adding, ‘Delectable as she may be.’
With a cocky smile, he gave her a half-salute and sauntered away.
The corner of her mouth was still quivering from his sensual touch. Great. If that was his first foray into proving it she was in trouble. Big trouble.
With a trembling hand she devoured the remainder of her breakfast, eager to escape. Whenever she looked up she caught a glimpse of him, moving among the tables, talking to various people. Their eyes met only once across the crowded room, and she looked away first, hating the blush staining her cheeks, hating her inadequacy at coping with light flirtation more.
It was hot in this room, way too hot. Pushing her plate away, she almost tripped in her haste to stand and dashed for the door, keeping her head down, unwilling to tempt fate further. After virtually falling into his arms, landing next to him at dinner, and then running into him first thing this morning, it looked as if fate was having a mighty big chuckle at her expense.
Zac watched Lana bolt, hiding a triumphant grin as he flipped the pages on his clipboard. He had her thoroughly rattled, if that stunned, wide-eyed gaze when he’d touched her lips was any indication.
Maybe he’d pushed the boundaries a tad there, but he hadn’t been able to help it; he wanted to see if anything disturbed that cool-bordering-on-haughty mantle she wore like a fine fur.
He’d disconcerted her last night to the point where she’d thrown out that challenge. He was in little doubt she would never have been that brazen, that sassy, if she’d been thinking straight. After all, a woman who turned up to her first dinner on a luxurious cruise liner wearing a drab black dress with oversized buttons, a God-awful belt, and barely a slick of make-up, and who rarely spoke, wasn’t exactly brimming with confidence.
Yet he’d wanted to push her buttons anyway.
Must be the pressure. He had a job to do, a saboteur to uncover, and some bad publicity to bring to a screaming halt. His uncle was relying on him, and he owed Jimmy big-time. He’d let him down once. Never again.
He needed to concentrate on business—needed to convince everyone he was just the new PR guy. The success of his plan depended on it. Even if he was actually the CEO of the whole damn company, and usually had bigger fish to fry.
And concentrating on business meant not giving Lana a hard time—challenge or not. Though there had been something about the spark in her eyes when she’d
