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Lana hoverednear the entrance to the ballroom, watching the women in their designer dresses beguile their dates, sip champagne, and laugh without a care in the world.
She wanted to be like that—sophisticated, flirtatious, carefree—the type of woman a guy like Zac would want in his life, hopefully for more than just a few weeks.
But she wouldn’t think about that now. Tonight was about showing him she wanted him as much as he wanted her. Tonight was a night for romance, for magic, for a shy girl to demonstrate there was more to her than shapeless dresses and baggy shorts.
With her heart beating in rhythm to the jazz ballad playing softly in the background, she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and entered the ballroom.
Her fingers convulsed around her clutch at the exact moment Zac caught sight of her.
Deep in conversation with another officer, he glanced up, shock etched across his handsome face before he mumbled something and strode toward her, his gob-smacked expression vindication her make-over had made a statement. Though by the reproach shadowing those cobalt blue depths, definitely not the kind of statement she’d expected.
When he reached her he stopped dead, his greedy gaze roaming over her before his steely eyes narrowed. “What’s all this?”
At that precise second, Lana’s world crumbled.
She’d imagined this magical moment all day, had built it up in her head to be picture-perfect, with Zac taking her hand, twirling her at arms length, before pulling her close and whispering how incredible she looked.
She’d imagined he’d take one look at her dress, her hair, her makeup, and know she’d done this all for him, to drive him mad with lust, proving she felt the same way.
She’d imagined him so crazy for her he wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off her to the point he’d drag her out of this party and straight to his cabin where she’d finally shrug off the last of her insecurities and show what a little confidence did for a woman.
Never in her wildest dreams—or nightmares—had she imagined the cutting criticism underlying his question or the disapproval creasing his brow.
While her first instinct was to hitch up her skirt and flee, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing how deeply he’d hurt her, how she’d trusted him enough to do this and he’d rejected her regardless.
“By this, you mean the dress?”
His frown intensified as he glanced at her hair, her face. “And the rest.”
She bit down on the inside of her lip so hard she drew blood, the pain of his disparagement slicing her heart in two.
Drawing on the last of her inner resolve, she concentrated on keeping her tone flat, unemotional. “The invitation said formal so I made an effort.”
“I see.”
Like hell he did.
For all his proclamations about getting to know her and admiring her intelligence and the real her, he didn’t have a clue.
She had to get out of here, had to leave before her humiliation was complete and she broke down. “You know something? I don’t think you see a thing.”
His eyes widened, the electrifying blue brought into sharp focus, and with his midnight curls slicked back and a tux accentuating his broad shoulders, he was breathtakingly handsome, a rakish pirate who’d stolen her heart and plundered her emotions without thought or feeling.
She didn’t wait for a response as she rushed out of the room, making a dash for the heavy glass door leading to the Main Deck. She ran as fast as three inch stilettos would allow, ignoring the heavy footsteps racing after her, the wind whipping her dress against her legs as her feet flew across the deck.
She reached the Main Deck as Zac shouted, “Lana, wait.”
As if. She hit a dead end, swivelled to the right, and her heel jammed as she pitched forward. Before she could hit the deck he caught her, his saving grip an instant reminder of how this had all started. Considering how it was about to end, she would’ve been better off sprawling on her butt that first day on the escalator.
“You’re making a habit of this.” His wry statement would’ve brought a smile to her face usually. Not tonight.
Silently cursing her clumsiness, she straightened, irrationally disappointed when he released her. “Was there something you wanted?”
You, she wanted the great seafaring charmer to say. Like that would happen after his reaction to her makeover.
“Why did you leave in such a hurry?”
