Maybe This Time

*Just when they thought they were through…*
What are the chances of running into your ex-wife on a singles cruise? Apparently very high, as Darcy Lewis discovers. With their messy past, surely he and Emma can stay on opposite sides of the ship and leave each other alone.
They can't. Instead, they spend a sinfully hot night together. Too bad the morning after proves they separated for good reason. Even when Emma tells him she's pregnant, they decide they're better apart. Or are they? Because somehow they keep turning to each other for support. And it's clear the attraction is still there. Maybe this is their second chance—a new baby, a new chance to make this work.
### About the Author
When Joan Kilby isn’t working on her next romance novel she can often be found sipping a latte at a sidewalk café and indulging in her favorite pastime of people watching. Originally from Vancouver, Canada, Joan now lives in Australia with her husband and three children. She enjoys cooking as a creative outlet and gets some of her best ideas while watching her Jack Russell terrier chase waves at the beach.
### Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.
*January*
*Melbourne, Australia*
Darcy Lewis straightened his cream linen jacket. The cruise ship's crowded ballroom was decked out in a Brazilian Fiesta theme and the live band's spicy Latin beat had him tapping his foot. Hot women in sexy dresses clustered around the room, sipping cocktails and eyeing up the men, including him.
How long had it been since he'd done something new and exciting? Way too long. His mates in Summerside were right. Twelve months of celibacy was too damn long for any red-blooded man with fully functioning hormones. They'd known what he needed even if he hadn't.
"Have a fling," Riley Henning had said as he and John Forster—Darcy's old surfing buddies and now both police officers—presented him with a ticket for a weekend singles cruise. The three of them had gathered one night after hours in Darcy's pub for a few drinks in honor of his fortieth birthday. "No strings attached. No emotional commitment. Definitely no moping. Just hot sex and fun."
Darcy cleared his throat, a little choked up at the generosity of his good mates. The past two years had been hard, really hard. "Thanks, guys."
John clapped Darcy on the shoulder. "Riley's right, sex and fun. When was the last time you had either?"
"Been a while." First Holly's death, then the divorce… His cocooned existence had involved eating, sleeping and working—not necessarily in that order. It was time he made an effort to get into the dating scene. And this cruise was just the ticket, so to speak.
He dragged his thoughts to the ballroom and the nearest woman—a brunette wearing a red dress sipping from a drink with an umbrella. "Would you like to dance?"
"Thanks, but I've got a partner for this one. He'll be back any second. My friend would like to." She pushed forward the petite woman wearing a blue dress standing behind her.
"Tracey, I can find my own— Oh." Emma's blue-green eyes widened. A smattering of freckles stood out against a peaches-and-cream complexion framed by flaming red hair. "Hey, Darcy."
Darcy swore silently. What were the odds? What were the frickin' odds? Of all the ballrooms on all the singles cruises in the world… He pasted on a smile. "Hey, Em. What are you doing here?"
"On a cruise. Same as you." She glanced around desperately, as if hoping someone would rescue her. Or a fire would break out, or the ship would hit an iceberg. Anything to put an end to this awkward moment.
Was she looking for a good time, too? A roll in the sack? Well, why shouldn't she? She was absolutely free to sleep with whomever she wanted. It did *not* make him jealous. Or hurt. Much.
He started to ease away. "Sorry to bother you."
The brunette grabbed him by the arm. "Where are you going? Do you two know each other?" She turned to Emma and whispered, "Come on, Em—he's hot. This makes the third man you've passed on."
"This is Darcy," Emma hissed. "My ex-husband."
"Oh!" The woman dropped his arm as if it were infected.
Nice. What exactly had Emma said about him?
"Wonderful running into you." He gave them double thumbs-up as he moved away. "It's a big ship. I'm sure it won't happen again. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to see a man about a dog."
"Huh?" Tracey's nose wrinkled. "What dog?"
"Forget it." Emma waved a hand. "Let him go."
He felt Emma's glare burning a hole in the back of his jacket all the way to the bar. What was she saying about him to Tracey? Was she warning her? *"He likes to party but if you 're looking for happily ever after, forget it."*
Darcy slid onto a stool, automatically taking note of the efficient, uncluttered layout of the bar. It was set up mainly for cocktails with features he would never use. But those sliding doors on the fridges would be great instead of the swinging ones he had.
Seeing Emma unexpectedly was almost as disconcerting as sitting on this side of the bar. He had an urge to hop the divider and start polishing glasses. He caught the bartender's eye. "Coke with plenty of ice."
"Everything okay, mate?" The bartender, a man about his own age with receding blond hair, tipped a scoop of ice into a glass and squirted in the soft drink.
"Just ran into my ex-wife." He lifted the glass and took a big swig. Whiskey would have been more welcome right now.
"Still got a thing for her, do you?"
Bartenders had an instinct for people and their troubles. He knew he did but he didn't care to be on this side of the conversation. "It's complicated."
He wanted to hate Emma—but couldn't. He wished he could love her the way she wanted to be loved—couldn't manage to do that, either. Would have liked to stay friends—that was too painful after what they'd had together. He wished he could ignore her—one look and every other woman in the ballroom faded into insignificance.
So where did that leave him? In limbo, that's where—unable to forget her, unable to move on. This cruise was supposed to be his first step toward a new life.
Instead he was torturing himself by watching her on the dance floor. Even though their last six months together had been the worst of his life, even though they were divorced now, the thought of her on the prowl for another guy twisted his insides into knots. Through the bobbing heads he glimpsed her doing the mambo with some bozo with two left feet. The guy's hands were all over her. Darcy didn't know which was worse, the liberties the guy was taking or that a terrific dancer like Emma was wasted on him.
Darcy turned around, unable to watch. He hadn't seen her in nearly six months, not since the house had sold for a song. Both of them wanted rid of the memories and had been unwilling to wait for a decent offer. She'd moved to Mornington, to a rental unit. He'd moved into the apartment above the pub once the previous tenant's lease was up.
The first night of this cruise and already her presence had ruined the whole experience for him. How was he going to chat up other women with her on board? Sure he was divorced, but it would still feel like cheating on his wife. He would be constantly looking over his shoulder. Even now he imagined he could smell her perfume—
Hell. She slid onto the next stool.
Blue-green eyes fringed with dark auburn lashes flashed at him. "I can't believe you're here, too."
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking." He gulped his soda, wishing it was Scotch more than ever. They'd both resorted to animosity to cover a whole host of more difficult emotions. It worked but it was draining. "You?"
"Pretty crap, actually, now that I've run into you." She signaled to the bartender. "Can I have a mojito, please? Only instead of rum I'd like vodka, and instead of lime, I want pineapple juice. Oh, and no mint leaves, thanks. Lots of ice. And just a dash of pomegranate."
Fixing his gaze on the row of liquor bottles lined up in front of the mirror, Darcy gave an irritated chuckle. "Now I remember why I divorced you. Only those cute freckles and that pert nose allow you to get away with orders like that."
"My freckles suck. And not every bartender is a purist like you." She dipped fingers with short blunt nails into a bowl of peanuts. "Just for the record, *I* divorced *you.* But never mind that, we need to talk."
It had better not be about Holly, or their relationship or his many faults.
"Don't eat those." He shoved the bowl down the black marble bar. "You don't know whose hands have been there before you. You ought to know about germs."
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm on holiday. Don't mention nursing or hospitals or sick people or bedpans—"
"Okay, okay, I get the idea."
Instead of getting down to what she wanted to talk about, she said, "How's the pub? Business good?"
"Fine. The same." He didn't know why she asked.
She'd always resented the time he spent there. In her opinion he should have been home with her and Holly more. But the sixty-year-old country-style pub he'd bought from his father when he retired was not only his heritage, it was his livelihood. The fact that he enjoyed the atmosphere and considered his local customers part of his extended network of friends was a bonus.
"How's the hospital?" he said, playing along. "Are you still in post-op?"
"No, I'm in geriatrics now. I work with Tracey. She's my friend in the red dress. Oh, and I've applied to do a master's degree in nursing. If I get in, classes start next semester."
"That's great. You always wanted to finish that."
She looked him over. "You've lost weight. Are you cooking for yourself or relying on takeaway?"
He'd lost a few pounds after he'd stopped drinking, but that was none of her business. "I'm living on peacock's tongues and caviar. You said you wanted to talk?"
She reached for the tall drink in front of her. "Why are you here?"
"Why does anyone go on a singles cruise? To meet people. And in this case, for the dancing."
"Well, I won't get in your way if you stay out of mine. That's what I came over here to say. After this one drink together we should act like we don't even know each other."
He cast her a sidelong glance. "We wish, eh?"
She played with her straw. "Are you seeing anyone? I haven't noticed you on the internet dating sites."
"I prefer to meet people face-to-face. You should be careful, hooking up with men online. There are a lot of creeps out there, married men just looking for a fling." What she did was none of *his* business but she'd started it by ...