Caroline Anderson - Raw Deal

‘Well? Did you sort out your little disagreement?’

Maggie had to smile. ‘I think we may have done. Ah, here’s the steward—shall we order?’

It was a long, lazy day, and Ben drifted in and out of it with a smile and a wave, pausing sometimes to top up Maggie’s sunscreen cream or check on the progress of her ankle.

It made it very difficult to keep him at a distance, because, while she hadn’t wanted to leave matters so there was bad feeling between them, on the other hand she didn’t want to encourage his attentions to the point where he would think an affair was inevitable—because it wasn’t.

At least she told herself that, but when he perched on the end of her sunbed and grasped her ankle firmly in his large, warm hands, smoothing the skin with his thumbs while his hair-roughened thigh brushed against her calf and his eyes sent wicked messages to her fevered imagination, it was hard to believe that she would have the strength to turn away from him if he ever really tried to seduce her.

At four o’clock she went back down to her cabin for a rest before dinner, and then dressed with extra care, refusing to admit to herself that it had anything to do with a certain tall, blond doctor who had insinuated himself into her life.

It was New Year’s Eve, and in five hours they would be crossing the Equator. The promised party would undoubtedly be riotous and trail on until the morning, and she just hoped her ankle would stand up to it. Not that it mattered. No one would be affected if she slipped quietly away just after midnight.

Except maybe Ben.

Ignoring the sudden thudding of her heart, Maggie fastened the single tiny pearl button at the neck of the cream crêpe de Chine gown and stood back to inspect her handiwork.

Oh, dear. It’s another of those dresses, she thought wearily. I really must stop taking Jo and Annie shopping with me.

There was a tap at the door, and Ben’s voice curled around her senses.

‘Maggie? Are you ready?’

She took a deep breath and opened the door.

He stood looking at her for endless moments, which gave her the perfect opportunity to study him in turn. And he looked gorgeous. Tall, broad, devastatingly masculine, the little-boy look banished in favour of an appraisal that was elemental in its intensity.

‘My God,’ he breathed, and closed his eyes, opening them again slowly. ‘Turn round,’ he instructed, and she noticed with rather nervous amusement that his voice was slightly rasping.

She twirled slowly, and then came to rest facing him again.

‘Losing your voice?’ she teased.

‘Losing my grip, I think,’ he replied gruffly, and with a deep sigh he offered her his arm. ‘I think we need to be among people before I give in to the urge to tumble you on to your bunk and ravish you before dinner.’

Maggie laughed, but as she looked up and met his eyes she realised he was only half joking.

Thank goodness he was a gentleman!

Dinner was wonderful, each course outdoing the one before, and by the time Maggie had fought her way through the French onion soup, the lobster tails in an exquisite sauce and the beef Wellington, she was ready to give in.

Then the dessert trolley arrived, and she simply had to succumb to the crêpes with a flambéd dark cherry filling, drenched with thick, delicious double cream.

‘My arteries will never forgive me,’ she said laughingly, and Ben beside her smiled and stole a cherry dripping with cream.

‘Just testing,’ he murmured, and declined his own portion, choosing instead a cup of rich black coffee.

She couldn’t finish, and Ben picked up her fork and speared the last few cherries. She watched, fascinated, as his lips closed on the fork and he withdrew it, a sensuous smile on his face. He licked his lips and sighed.

‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to move,’ Maggie confided, somewhat distracted by the look in his eyes.

‘You need a walk on deck. Come on. Excuse us, please, ladies and gentlemen. A little fresh air!’

They left a polite murmur behind them which rapidly changed into idle speculation, and made their way out on to the deck.

Already passengers were beginning to drift out, and they leant on the rail and watched the flying fish leaping out of the water.

‘What’s the programme for this evening?’ Maggie asked lazily, not at all interested in moving from her comfortable position against Ben’s side.

‘Dancing and cabaret until nearly midnight in the Penang Lounge, and then crossing the Equator at midnight with the captain dressed as Neptune. It’s quite a laugh, I gather. Then more dancing and disco and drinking and what you will until dawn. The casino’s open for those who think their luck might have changed with the advent of the New Year, and then breakfast is served for those who can tolerate it pretty much as required until midday.’

‘What happens then?’

‘They change the menu!’

Maggie chuckled. ‘It sounds as if you’ll have quite a few patients!’

He laughed. ‘Inevitably. I have a large supply of hangover and indigestion remedies available for the over-indulged—talking of which, how are you feeling?’

‘Over-indulged! I’ll survive—it’s entirely my own fault!’

He chuckled. ‘How’s the ankle?’

She flexed it thoughtfully. ‘It seems better.’

‘Better enough to dance?’

‘Disco?’ she asked doubtfully.

He turned towards her with a lazy smile. ‘Actually, I had in mind something rather slower and more romantic. I’ve eaten far too much myself to jiggle about, and anyway it seems like a good idea.’

Maggie thought it seemed like a crazy idea, but her wretchedly willing head nodded of its own accord and she found herself going with him to the Penang Lounge where couples were moving slowly to the music.

Too crowded,’ he decided, and led her out on deck. The sunbeds had been cleared away to make room for the night’s revelry, and apart from a few couples similarly engaged they had the deck to themselves.

He held out his hand. ‘May I have the honour of this dance?’ he murmured, and she stepped into his arms with a tiny sigh of resignation.

He held her lightly and very properly, until she turned unwarily and jarred her ankle. Then he pulled her more firmly against him and offered her the support of his arms. ‘Better?’ he said softly, his breath teasing her hair, and she nodded, sliding her arms round his waist and leaning into him.

‘Much.’

They clung together in the moonlight, swaying gently to the soft music that washed over them under the star-spangled tropic sky, and Maggie wondered what on earth she was thinking about to allow herself so close to an absolute stranger.

Except that he didn’t seem like a stranger, and after twenty-eight years her body had evidently decided that her mind had had quite long enough and needed a helping hand.

Perhaps it had been easy to walk away before because she had never met anyone sufficiently tempting? As she had told Ben, she was extremely picky about her boyfriends—to the extent that she hadn’t had one for the past two years, and the ones before that had merely been convenient escorts. Undoubtedly there had been those who had felt cheated when she refused to express her gratitude for their company in the accepted fashion, but it wasn’t a fashion she had any intention of adopting for herself.

Until tonight.

Idly, she wondered whether they would end up in bed after all the revelry was over. Somehow she wouldn’t be surprised.

‘Time for the cabaret,’ he murmured, and she dragged herself back to earth—or deck, or whatever—and allowed Ben to ease her gently away from him.

A small, unbidden whimper of distress rose in her throat, and he brushed her lips with his. ‘Shh,’ he whispered. ‘I know. Later. Don’t worry, I’m not letting you go.’