Helga had her thinking she was a beautiful femme fatale. The woman was a genius—pure and simple. But how long could it possibly last? This was a make-believe world of sensual pleasure. Could it withstand the gaze of Mr. Gorgeous? Would her fragile self-confidence melt the minute she saw him?
“Remember,” Helga continued, “beauty is an attitude. It comes from within. It is an inner knowing that a woman projects. Men find the attitude irresistible, just as your lucky man will find you.”
“Helga,” a woman’s voice from the door called. “You have an important call. Sorry to interrupt.”
Helga smiled at Jennifer and wiped the mud from her hands on a small towel. “Relax for about twenty minutes. Our little timer, the one that looks like a strawberry, there on the sideboard, will go off when you are ready. There’s a shower in the second massage room down the corridor. You’ll find your bag and bathing suit waiting for you there. Your hair appointment is scheduled for an hour from now. I’ve arranged for our best stylist to give you a sophisticated cut. One that will flatter your classic bone structure and bring out your eyes. Come back tomorrow morning around ten o’clock and we’ll go shopping for some new clothes and plan your day.”
“Thank you.” Jennifer smiled as widely as the drying mud on her face would allow.
Helga turned and looked at Jennifer, leaving her with a softly spoken warning. “Remember, Jenny, you must never appear needy. Always, always, speak and act with confidence.”
After Helga left the room, Jennifer stretched and closed her eyes, thinking on the many scents and sensations she had just enjoyed. Luckily, she had found Helga easy to talk to. Helga had generously given Jennifer advice during her massage and she planned to take it. When had she gone from a self-confident young woman to a mouse? Why hadn’t she seen the warning signs? She suspected that as the pounds increased, her self-confidence decreased. Maybe it was her grandmother warning her that she ate too much for a lady and that she would end up a spinster if she didn’t stay thin. She dearly loved her family, but sometimes their well-meaning advice only added to the stress of loving food and loving to cook. After college she’d decided to put some distance between them. Welcoming a chance to leave her hometown of Homestead, Pennsylvania, she’d headed to Ft. Lauderdale to write a cooking column for the local newspaper. She had come a long way quickly in business, but she was conditioned to believe that no man would find her attractive with her extra pounds. Now Helga was telling her not to worry and not focus on her weight. So what if she wasn’t a rail-thin model, or the athletic type? There was still someone out there for her.
When the timer rang its cheery bell, Jennifer threw the sheets back and slipped off the massage table. She grabbed a thick terry robe from a stack in the corner of the room, slipped it on, and headed for the door. Without thinking, she hurried to the next massage room and slipped inside to take her shower. She couldn’t resist pausing in front of an old-fashioned, full-length mirror in a cane frame. With a quick motion, she tossed her extra towel to the side. If only Sheila could see me now, she giggled, looking at her greenish-brown reflection. The Pillsbury Dough girl wrapped in a beach robe with pistachio and chocolate sprinkles! Truth be known, with the turban protecting her hair and the mud plastered over her face and body, she doubted that even her mother would recognize her.
“Hello, beautiful. Are you the new massage therapist?” an amused masculine voice asked.
Jennifer gasped and spun around, clutching her robe tightly. Oh, no! Please, no! It was him. Mr. Gorgeous in the flesh, wearing just a short robe tied together at the waist. Frozen to her spot, Jennifer allowed her gaze to drift down the exposed skin of his muscular chest to his toned thighs and calves. Mmm . . . what nice hips. Apparently, the him beneath the robe was pretty nice too. Oh, God! What was she doing? She was staring, and not at his face. Jennifer felt a flush cover her. Then it hit her. He couldn’t see her embarrassment under all the mud. Slowly, she dragged her gaze up to his face—a very amused face.
“You have the wrong room, Mr. . . . ?” She struggled to speak. Stay calm, her panicked mind reminded her. Sure thing, she told herself as she tilted her chin up in what she hoped was a gesture of indifference.
“Treymont. Ryan Treymont. And you?” He shook his head and grinned when she didn’t respond. “Nope. This is definitely the right room. It’s the Toucan Room and I have it reserved for the next two hours.” He smiled broadly and his eyes swept over her from her head to her toes and slowly back up. Glancing to the mirror behind her, he laughed. “But I’d be happy to share.”
Jennifer’s mouth dropped open at the invitation. “If you were any kind of a gentleman,” she sputtered, “you would leave and give me time to take my shower.”
“Maybe I’m not a gentleman. Besides, it seems to me you have plenty of time, just no shower.”
Jennifer spun around and surveyed the room. Oh, no. He was right. There was no shower—she was in the wrong room. A beach towel rested on the nearby massage table, one end dangling on the edge. One step forward and she quickly grabbed the towel. “Oh, no,” she moaned, “I can’t leave the room like this.”
“My, my, but you are shy.” Ryan grinned and settled his hands on his hips. “Tell you what,” Ryan walked over to her and reached for the towel in her hand. “I’ll be nice and show you where the shower is.”
Jennifer gripped the towel and held her breath. It was getting entirely too warm in here. Mr. Gorgeous was so close . . . and so handsome, smiling that heart wrenching smile that could melt ice cubes. What was she going to do? “I . . . Mmm . . . ah . . . I don’t need your help, thank you very much.”
“You’ve got to let go,” he chuckled, gently pulling at the towel.
Jennifer stared at her clenched fist holding the beach towel as if her life depended on it. Slowly she relaxed her fingers and watched as the towel slipped away.
Ryan eased the towel away from her grip, shook it open, and placed it around her shoulders. “The closest shower is in the massage room next door. On your right. Or you can go down to the showers for the gym. Take the third door on the left to get there.”
“Thanks,” she breathed, acutely aware that he still blocked her path through the door. She looked up from her empty hand and met the hard wall of his powerful chest. Jennifer burned. She could feel the waves of heat just flowing off of him. Why, oh why, wasn’t the air-conditioning working? Her heart raced as her gaze traveled up his tanned skin to meet his laughing eyes.
“Have dinner with me,” he coaxed. “There’s a small lounge area next to the entrance to the Venetian dining room on Deck Six. Meet me there at seven.”
Here was her chance to flirt. Did she dare? Would he be disappointed when he finally saw the real her instead of a mystery woman swathed in a thick shapeless beach robe and covered in mud? She didn’t think she could handle the embarrassment if he rejected her. Still, he acted interested. If her courage would just hold up, she might be able to best Sheila and end up with a dynamite lover. Jennifer angled her face toward his and smiled. “All right,” she murmured. “Dinner at seven.”
“Promise?” he teased.
Tongue tied, she nodded, wishing she had something clever and witty to say.
“Well, beautiful,” he stepped back with a grin and opened the door. “I think you’d better go.”
“Next door, it is,” she added huskily as she hurried out the door, anxious to wash away the mud and see the beginnings of her new image.
CHAPTER TWO
Ryan Treymont loved women. Short, tall, skinny, or plump, plain or exotic, domestic or foreign, he loved them all. There was just something about a warm feminine creature that he just couldn’t resist. Even the short-tempered females usually melted under his charm. To his way of thinking, how could a man not love the rainbow of women bringing pleasure into his life with a smile, and if he was lucky, with a kiss. If a woman was funny that was a plus, but if she could cook—now that was a major bonus! After growing up in a household of seven me
n and no women, he cherished the feminine sex. Everything they did fascinated him, from temper to tears to giggles to laughter.
Even the little spitfire that he’d met earlier today in the spa was refreshing. There was just something about her that intrigued him. Would she show up for dinner tonight? Probably not. No way would she want him to know who she really was. Well, that was just too bad. He had a sure fire way of recognizing her, whether she liked it or not. He’d just have to keep his eyes and ears open. A beautiful voice and a fiery temper were hard to hide.
Ryan raised his cocktail glass to his lips and finished his bourbon on ice. The cool liquid warmed his throat as if it were a smooth caress. Mmm, but he was feeling sexy. The image of that adorable female covered with nothing but a bulky beach robe and sweet-smelling mud lingered, teasing him, making him want to scour the ship to find her. What was he doing lusting over a woman he didn’t even know? For all he knew, she had a boyfriend, or worse, a husband. But something about her stirred his interest. Even when he met his ex-fiancée, Diane, he hadn’t been this intrigued. Maybe it was the mystery.
Mystery, or no, getting involved with a woman now could only be a mistake. Certainly he’d dated since his broken engagement, but never seriously. Even though he enjoyed the company of women, the word forever was no longer in his vocabulary. While a shipboard romance might be fun, Ryan reminded himself that this cruise was for business, his business, the business that he had struggled for years to build. Now was not a good time to get distracted.
As the CEO of Exercisetech, he had an important role to fill and image to keep. His best salesmen were on this trip with him. Their one goal—to convince the cruise line to purchase for its entire fleet, Exercisetech’s high-tech exercise equipment—was a formidable task. As invited guests of the cruise line, each man needed to conduct himself in a courteous, friendly and professional manner at all times. That conduct didn’t include indiscriminate romancing of every female passenger. They had all been warned by him to enjoy the trip, but to be discreet.
The ship boasted three full size pools, one in the solarium, one open to the sun and fresh air, and one on the sports deck. Something for everybody, he mused. He, of course, preferred the open-air pool area and the poolside bar and grill where he sat, because within a few feet of the pool and hot tubs he could enjoy not only the bar and grill, but a pizza café and an ice cream parlor as well. Not only that, he thought, when three young women in tiny bikinis stepped up to the bar, the view was very, very, good. This was also the best place he knew of to keep his salesmen in line. While they didn’t like having a chaperone, the men weren’t likely to risk their jobs.
The bartender joined him in watching the women walk away with their drinks before giving Ryan a knowing wink and filling his glass for him. Above the bar perched a redheaded mermaid holding a banner which read mare di amore. Sea of love? He hoped not. He wanted his staff to keep business first and foremost. It wasn’t that he didn’t want them to enjoy the cruise, but their behavior shouldn’t reflect negatively on his company.
Setting his glass down on the counter of the poolside bar, he watched while his youngest brother, Mike, flirted with a petite blonde in a red bikini sitting in the wading area of the pool near a fountain sculpture. Water cascaded down, spilling over the smooth bodies of playful dolphins, sending a fine mist over the young woman and Mike. A few feet from them, stairs led downward into deeper water. Body language alone told him the attraction between the two of them was building. Of all his salesmen, Mike would be the first to bend the rules to suit himself. That is, if he let him. Not that he could blame Mike. The blonde was beautiful, for sure. Unaware of his scowl, Ryan rose from his barstool and made his way over to edge of the pool where Mike appeared to have the woman entranced with his wit, his charm, and his exceptional good looks.
“Hey, Ryan,” Mike grinned as Ryan walked up. “Meet Sheila Gray.” Mike turned to Sheila. “Ryan’s one of my big brothers.”
“Oh, my, yes—he certainly is.” Sheila laughed. “But that frown has to go.”
Ryan found himself smiling. She was one good flirt. “Pleasure, Sheila.”
“Mike invited me and a friend of mine to dinner at the Captain’s table tonight. I hope you don’t mind.” Sheila held out her hand to him. “I’ll be sure to tell the Captain just how much I love Exercisetech’s equipment.”
“I’d be interested to know whether or not Exercisetech was even in your vocabulary before you met Mike,” Ryan countered as he shook her hand.
“Ah, a true doubter. Actually, my friend Jennifer, who you will meet tonight, introduced me to the equipment last year. It’s quite a story, but since it’s her story, I’ll let her tell it.”
“Look, I don’t want to disappoint anyone, but I have plans for this evening. Dinner with the Captain is tomorrow night, Mike.” Ryan turned to Mike wondering just what his brother was up to. Mike looked so innocent with his boyish face. Often Ryan wondered how Mike happened to be blessed with light blue eyes and light brown hair when the rest of the clan tended to be darker.
“Past tense, big brother. The Purser’s office called while you were at the Spa and changed our plans. Looks like the Captain is excited about the equipment and getting the staff familiar with it.” Mike grinned wickedly. “You’ll just have to change your plans.”
Ryan gave him a dark look. He didn’t want to change his plans. “What time do we have to be there?” Ryan asked.
“Seven. In the Naples Dining Room. Deck Five.”
Ryan frowned. It looked like he had no choice. Dinner with the Captain was much too important. Nor did he seem to have a choice in dinner companions. He allowed his gaze to slide lazily over Sheila before returning to his brother. Mike was not going to get away with this unscathed. “Come by my cabin around six. I want to talk to you.”
“Sure. Talk to you later.” Mike slid over to the stairs, slipped into the pool, and began swimming to the other side.
Sheila lifted her eyes away from Mike and studied Ryan carefully. “You certainly seem disappointed by the turn of events.”
Ryan tugged at the towel around his neck and faced her. “Sorry. Please don’t take it personally, but this is a business trip. Sometimes Mike has a tendency to forget.”
“Don’t worry so much,” Sheila answered. “You’re starting to sound just like your slave-driver boss.”
“Excuse me?” Ryan gave her an incredulous look. Didn’t she know he was the boss?
“Oh, yes. Mike told me all about him.” Sheila shrugged her dainty shoulders and smiled at him. “Surely you can mix business and pleasure. After all, this is a cruise. It’s supposed to be fun. According to Mike, even the peons should have a night off.”
“Peons?” Irritation edged his voice, but he couldn’t quite seem to articulate past Mike’s outrageous description.
Sheila stepped closer to him until only inches separated them. Smiling reassurance, she placed her hand on his arm and smoothed the curve of his well-defined triceps. “Don’t worry. Jennifer and I will behave ourselves tonight. However, I can’t promise that for the rest of our vacation.”
“Thank you, Sheila. I appreciate that.” So much for innuendo. He needed to get away from the blonde barracuda in the red bikini. Fast. He turned swiftly and headed for his cabin. He was going to kill Mike. Throw him overboard. No, that was too good for him. As soon as he cooled off, he would plan something better. Much better.
* * *
The cabin was unusually quiet except for the lively melody of Marc Anthony’s “You Sang to Me,” filtering in from the balcony where Sheila sat with her CD player. Jennifer glanced around the neatly kept cabin marveling at the gleaming teak trim on the walls and built-in cabinets. The festive green and blue upholstery on the furniture matched the colors in the bedspreads. Their steward would later come in to tidy up the place, set out fresh towels, and turn down each bed. Earlier he’d put a bowl of fresh fruit on the cocktail table.
Jennifer nibbled on an apple slice
while she eyed her dinner dress lying at the foot of her bed. She grabbed her strapless bra and matching bikini panties from the drawer of the dressing table and tossed them next to her dress. For a moment she studied her reflection before picking up her brush. With a few quick strokes of the brush through her newly styled hair, she tried to calm her riotous emotions. Any other time she would have loved to eat at the Captain’s table with Sheila and her new friends. But she had a date with Mr. Gorgeous a/k/a Ryan Treymont, the sexiest hunk on the ship, and she didn’t intend to miss it. As Sheila came into the cabin with a closed look on her face, Jennifer knew it was time to assert herself. She pulled on her lace bikini and struggled with the fastener on her lace bra.
“I’m not going!” Jennifer planted her feet firmly apart, her looks daring Sheila to argue with her. Met with silence, she slipped the aqua silk dress over her head. It fell in soft folds around her hips and knees. “I’ve seen that determined look before, Sheila, and it will get you nowhere. Instead of assuming that I had nothing to do tonight and making commitments for us, you should have asked me first.”
“You really have a date?” Sheila asked with genuine interest.
“Oh, do I ever!” Jennifer smiled knowingly. She didn’t want to tell Sheila too much. After all, they had the same goal involving the same man. She wanted to keep her edge as long as she could. Once he met Sheila, it could be all over for her.
“So tell me all about it. How did you meet him? Who is he?” Sheila walked over to the closet and started browsing through the clothes.
“I met him this afternoon. All I want to say right now is that he is special,” Jennifer hedged.
“Okay. I think that’s really great, Jennifer.” Sheila glanced at her speculatively. “Does this mean you’re not interested in Mr. Gorgeous anymore? Did you decide not to take the bet?”
CRUISE TO ROMANCE Page 2
