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As they walked away from the bridge, Michaela became conscious of Dylan’s eyes on her. He wasn’t involved in this at all. There were no allegations about him and her. He was simply a spectator. “What are you doing here?”
“I found Christopher. He’d been boasting, the rumor got around, and I refused to accept what he’d done.”
“You saved me,” Michaela whispered, still not quite able to believe it. “You saved my job.”
“I guess.”
She looked up into his eyes. “What were you thinking, talking to the captain like that? You were the one who told me to be subtle with him.”
“I don’t do subtle.” He thrust out his jaw. “Like I told you, I’ve met his type before, all bluster and bullying tactics. I’ve had more practice dealing with them than you have.”
There it was again—the hint of another past.
“This will be fine, don’t worry,” Dylan continued. “Anyway, I could have got caught up in the mix. That boy thought you were an easy target because he spotted us together. He was skulking around the crew quarters, and he saw me pulling you into my stateroom.”
“That boy saw us?”
“Well, not us, exactly. He saw you going into someone else’s stateroom, and he seemed pretty clear what you were about to get up to.”
Michaela didn’t know whether to be flattered Dylan had bothered to rescue her or worried there’d be more repercussions from the captain.
“Come on, I’ll get you a drink. You look like you need one.” Dylan’s smile promised all sorts of treats.
Michaela could think of nothing better than to fall into those open arms and be held and reassured that everything would be all right. But not here. Not now. Perhaps not ever. “I think I just need time alone,” she said. “I’d be better to go and lie down.”
“I’ll come with you,” Dylan said instantly. “Make sure you get off to sleep all right. I know just the technique to relax every part of you.” He reached out a hand to pull her toward him.
“No,” she said quickly and backed off. “I don’t need to be seen with anyone else tonight.” She thought of the young boy and his rumor-mongering.
Dylan’s face hardened.
“But thank you,” she said, and meant it. “Thank you for finding out what really happened. Night.”
She turned without waiting to see the look on his face and walked quickly back to her stateroom.
Every part of her felt terrible.
Chapter Eight
Fool.
What the hell had he been thinking? He’d challenged the captain of the entire ship, and instead of falling gratefully into his arms, Michaela had run scared. As he watched her walk away, a strange sensation washed over him.
Sea-sickness? Surely not.
He looked at his hands, realizing they felt empty.
Odd. Perhaps it was just the adrenaline leaving his system after having it out with the captain.
He hadn’t been lying when he said he’d met Captain Atkinson’s type before. The onset of a paunch made some men feel threatened, and to make up for the menace of aging they took to bullying those around them. Usually it was a string of younger women, but the captain apparently made do with his plentiful staff. Stand up to a man like that with a decent argument, and they usually backed down without too much of a fight. What was true in the business world seemed to be true in the cruise ship world.
You better hope so.
With any luck, the captain wouldn’t want to risk being embarrassed by another standoff with him. But either way, the damage was done now. The bigger question was why Dylan had gotten so riled in the first place. This thing with Michaela was supposed to be casual.
Then again, “this thing” wasn’t much of anything now. The strange feeling washed over him again, and he shook his head to get rid of it.
It was too bad Michaela had been scared off. He’d been looking forward to consummating their affair.
Something buzzed in his pocket, and Dylan reached instinctively for his cell. Of course—they were docking in the morning. Land wasn’t far off, so reception would be back online. Sweeping the screen, he scanned his messages. Five from Brian and ten from Lily. For a moment, he considered ignoring them. He was supposed to be away for three months, letting them sort out their problems themselves.
But the kids might have used Lily’s phone to call him. They sometimes did that. Giving his brother and sister-in-law time out was one thing, and abandoning the kids was another. They’d been upset enough when he told them he was leaving.
He turned to go find Michaela, thinking it would be good to talk the situation over with her.
Dylan stopped in his tracks as the realization hit him like a slap of cold water. Michaela Western wasn’t his to share with. The feeling he’d discerned washing over him wasn’t sea-sickness, it was a sense of loss.
Maybe he should have told her why he was here, asked her for advice. She might have some insight into the situation that he’d failed to find over the years.
Lily’s kids deserved someone with Michaela’s strength in their lives. Someone who told it like it was, but with a smile. Someone who was clear about who they were and what they wanted out of life.
But what good would unburdening himself with her have done? Michaela didn’t owe him anything, and she sure couldn’t help resolve the mess Brian had made of his family. It wasn’t even his mess to resolve. It was just a drama he’d found himself drawn into again and again because of his empathy for his nephews and Lily, and because some shred of loyalty in him still hoped Brian would pull his head out of his ass and become a decent father.
Michaela wouldn’t have anything helpful to say. It wasn’t the kind of problem that had a solution.
Talking to her might have got rid of this annoying feeling, though.
Dylan steeled himself. He didn’t need anyone’s help. Certainly not the help of the cruise director of a ship he’d leave soon and likely never return to.
He opened the first text message. “They’re family,” he reminded himself, and started reading.
…
The next day was the last of the cruise, and the ship was already most of the way down the long stretch of Waitemata harbor in Auckland when the passengers woke. It took some time for the ship to dock and for all the disembarking procedures to be finalized, leaving plenty of time for passengers to wander the decks, gossiping and waving to people on the streets below.
Michaela woke groggy and listened to the bustle of the ship. The entire drama came back, playing out in vivid color. She groaned as she thought about going outside among passengers who had assumed so easily that she had seduced a youth hardly old enough to be called a man. If only her office were in a hidden part of the ship.
