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She was sitting in the chair.
As her door had closed the lock had clicked—waking her up.
CHAPTER THREE
Brittany broke into a mischievous grin. Her decision to take the cruise had been based on a fanciful thought: she'd meet a handsome stranger and have a wild shipboard romance. The salacious dream left her more determined than ever to bring the fantasy to life. Ambling to the bathroom, she splashed her face with cold water and stared at her reflection.
"Maybe I should do what I just imagined. Maybe I should keep my eyes open for that trolley and sneak into his cabin. If I'm lucky I might get caught."
Giggling at the thought she patted her face dry, applied fresh makeup, and changed into white jeans, an aqua T-shirt, and high-heeled sandals. As she left her cabin and passed Duncan's door, she paused, smiled a naughty smile, then continued on to the elevator, taking it to the lounge offering an all day buffet. Surprised to find the elegant eatery virtually empty, she chose a spicy vegetable dish, poured herself some coffee, and moved to a table against the window. As she settled in and gazed at the ocean, a flash of white caught the corner of her eye. Darting her eyes to the door, she spied Duncan Rhys-Davies dressed in white shorts and shirt, and carrying a leather satchel.
Her butterflies exploded.
He was sauntering to a nearby table.
Telling herself to stay calm, she took a breath and gazed back at the sparkling blue sea, but she couldn't resist a covert glance. The sexy James Bond look-a-like was even more attractive than she remembered. As he placed his bag on a chair a
nd strolled to the buffet to plate a salad, she couldn't take her eyes off him. Suddenly, to her surprise and delight, he turned, smiled, and walked slowly towards her.
"Care for some company?"
"Sure," she managed, trying to ignore the butterflies fluttering their frenzied dance.
Placing his dish on the table, he retrieved his satchel and sat across from her.
"Did we officially meet?" he asked. "I'm not sure we did. The name's Duncan Rhys-Davies."
"We did, sort of. Brittany Carter."
"That looks and smells far more appetizing than my salad."
"You're welcome to have some."
"That's very kind of you. I might take you up on that. Are you enjoying the cruise?"
"It's been very relaxing," she replied, wishing it were true. "I feel so far away from everything out here."
"That's the whole point for me, getting away. I'm an author. Out here I can focus."
"An author!" she repeated, her decadent dream and the spicy novel flashing through her head. "What sort of books do you write?"
Titling his head to the side, a devilish grin crossed his face.
"Naughty novels. I hope that doesn't make you uncomfortable."
"No, no," she said hastily. "I wonder if I've read any of your books."
She wanted to kick herself. Why had she just confessed to reading erotica?
"So you enjoy steamy romance novels."
"Doesn't everyone?" she quipped, hoping the remark would disguise her embarrassment.
"I'm impressed. Most women get flustered when I tell them, or they look at me as if I should be shot."
"Not me," she lied, thinking she'd never felt so flustered in her life. "I think it's great."
"I carry a few copies," he said, opening his satchel. "I'm happy to give you one."
