Bart leaned forward to add, “Nothing happened between them. Tanya wasn't even there with him. She spent the night in our room."
He braced a hand to his back and leaned forward. Ashley heard a loud cracking sound, followed by a groan.
"I slept on the floor, and she slept in the bed with Birdie,” he concluded.
Michael hadn't gotten up early and left the cabin, as she had so naively believed. He'd gotten drunk and spent the night in Tanya's cabin, where supposedly nothing had happened. Ashley felt sick inside, despite their attempts to justify his actions. Oh, she believed Bart and Birdie about Tanya spending the night in their cabin.
But what had happened before Tanya left Michael?
Keeping her voice neutral, she asked, “How did he get hurt?"
Apparently, her simple question had fallen on deaf ears.
"Bart? Birdie?” It wasn't easy looking at Tanya, but Ashley forced herself to focus on the petite, beautiful, sexy blonde. She had just begun to think she and Tanya could be friends, and it hurt to discover otherwise. “Tanya?"
Deckland shoved his hands in his pockets and stepped forward. “Please don't jump to conclusions, Ashley. It's obvious Michael loves you very much, despite being divorced—"
Ashley gasped. So Michael had told them. Or had he told Tanya? Before—or after he slept with her? The implications were ominous. She shook her head, her throat tight with tears she was determined not to shed. “If Michael didn't do anything wrong, then why are you all standing in the middle of a crowded pier making excuses for him?"
They remained silent, looking at her with a mixture of pity and embarrassment. Ashley swallowed the lump in her throat and shouldered her bag. She forced a convincing smile to her lips. “Hey, don't look so serious! I'm glad our secret is out in the open. Did Michael by any chance tell you—” she looked pointedly at Tanya, who looked guilty as hell—"that both of us are engaged to someone else? So, see?” She spread her trembling hands wide. “There's nothing to worry about. What Michael does is none of my business and vice-versa."
Thinking this would be an excellent time to join the other passengers—before she humiliated herself by bursting into tears—Ashley left them standing in a circle. Surely they would understand her need to be alone.
She had gone maybe ten feet when Tanya spoke.
"I hit him, Ashley. I kneed him in the groin. The black eye wasn't my fault, though. When he bent over, he accidentally hit my knee with his eye."
And her point was...?
After a moment, Ashley resumed walking.
"He loves you, Ashley!” Tanya shouted after her. “You were all he could talk about!"
Knuckling a tear from her hot cheek, Ashley kept walking. It didn't take a genius to figure out why Tanya had kneed Michael in the groin.
There was only one reason Ashley could think of.
So maybe Tanya hadn't slept with Michael. Maybe the single sex pot was innocent and truly trustworthy.
But Michael wasn't.
Suddenly, she whirled around and stomped back to the whispering group. Deckland spotted her and elbowed Bart. Bart elbowed Birdie, and Birdie clamped a hand over Tanya's mouth.
"Swear to me that you won't tell Michael that I know about this,” Ashley demanded.
"I swear."
"Of course."
"Me, too."
"Scout's honor."
"As far as I'm concerned, he left the cabin early this morning, while I was still asleep."
"Yes."
"Okay."
"Whatever you say, dear."
"Of course."
Ashley looked each one of them in the eye until she was satisfied they would keep their promise. Then she turned to Tanya again. Tanya looked miserable. Ashley softened slightly. After all, it wasn't Tanya's fault that Michael was a sexual predator. “Tanya, I believe your story. It's Michael I don't trust."
Instead of answering, Tanya groaned as if she had been afraid Ashley would say those very words. “I know, he told me why you two divorced, which is why it's important that you believe—"
"Did he hit on you?” Ashley interrupted.
With obvious reluctance, Tanya nodded. “But he was only trying to prove—"
"It doesn't matter. We're divorced, remember?” When no one answered, Ashley said through clenched teeth, “Right?"
"Right."
"Yeah."
"Okay."
Bart had to nudge Birdie twice before she grudgingly said, “Of course. But—"
But Ashley was walking away again, and this time she didn't stop.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Sixteen
He found her at one of the many outdoor booths sprinkled among the shops and restaurants lining the boulevard. This one, he saw, sold fine jewelry and delicate porcelain figurines.
For a moment, Michael paused to watch Ashley, that old familiar ache filling his throat. She laughed at something the vendor said, tossing her head so that her hair fell over one shoulder.
Beneath the warm tropical sun, her glossy brown hair flickered with subtle highlights. He flexed his fingers, remembering with bittersweet nostalgia the hundreds of times he had sifted through the satin strands.
Michael knew those highlights were natural, just as he knew that she worked out on a stair master several times a week to keep her calves firm and shapely.
His gaze dropped to skim the rest of her body. She was wearing a short blue sun dress that revealed the splendid length of her bare legs and the soft curve of her shoulders. It dipped low in the back, and then flared over her pert behind, reminding Michael of the short, sassy outfit she'd worn as a cheerleader in high school.
She could probably still wear that outfit, he mused, his mouth watering. And look just as good, if not better. He shook his head and winced. Too much alcohol, too little sleep.
At that moment, Ashley seemed to sense him watching her. She turned, her eyes widening at the sight of him. Her generous mouth curved into a bright, welcoming smile.
It was now or never, Michael thought with deep dread. Time to explain to her what had happened before someone else did. Would she believe him? More importantly, would she care?
And why was she smiling at him? He had expected a cold shoulder, at the least, for not coming back to the cabin last night.
"Michael! There you are!” She beckoned him exuberantly. “Come here, I want to show you something."
Michael took a deep breath and joined her at the booth, wondering what the hell was going on. Maybe the tequila he'd consumed had killed a few too many of his brain cells.
She held up a sparkling diamond wristwatch, her expression almost reverent. “What do you think? Do you like it?"
He took his time examining the watch. He wasn't an expert, but the diamonds looked real. So did the thick gold band. “It's a fine watch, but it looks expensive."
She grinned at him, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “It is expensive. Just over five thousand, but I think it's worth it. So, you're being honest? This is something you would wear?"
Pleasure warred with guilt. Did she mean what he thought she meant? Was she actually considering buying the watch for him? Michael swallowed hard, feeling like the worst heel in the world. He didn't deserve it, and after he told her what he'd done, she would certainly agree.
"Of course I would wear it, but I have to tell—"
"Wonderful! If you would wear it, then Tom will like it, right? I think it will make a wonderful wedding present.” She turned around and tapped the glass case in front of her with a long polished nail. “Along with those matching cuff links, of course. That's another three thousand, but my fiancé is worth it."
Fortunately, as she turned back to the vendor, she missed Michael's utter look of surprise, followed by a dark scowl as he realized she hadn't meant to buy the watch for him at all.
But for Tom. Her fiancé. Her wonderful fiancé.
"I'll take the watch and the cuff links,” she told the vendor chee
rfully. To Michael, she said, “Did I keep you awake last night with my tossing and turning? I noticed you left early this morning."
She didn't know. She didn't know! Michael was so relieved, he felt like dancing. Or not. Thank God he hadn't humiliated himself by begging her forgiveness!
Eight thousand dollars for a wedding present. For Tom.
She had gotten him a barbecue grill.
Michael was certain he would choke before he could swallow the jealous lump in his throat. His smile felt as if it would crack his face as he said, “Let's hope Tom can afford insurance."
"Oh, he can.” Her smile was blinding. “After we get married, my money will be his money."
Right. The three aspirin he'd taken an hour ago began to burn a hole in his stomach. And his headache was back.
"What did you buy for Candy?” Ashley asked as she handed the vendor her Visa and took her purchases. She opened her shoulder bag and stuck the shopping sack inside, then firmly closed it again.
She was still smiling brightly when she looked at him again. “Michael? Did you hear me?"
Oh, he'd heard her alright. And he knew what he had to say. “As a matter of fact, I was hoping that you would help me with that."
He watched her very closely, but her eyes never flickered and her smile never wavered. Not even a tiny bit. She took her credit card from the vendor and slid it into a side pocket of her shoulder bag.
And smiled brightly at him again.
Michael ground his teeth. What was it about her smile that was bothering him? Was it a little too bright? A little too wide?
"Sure! What did you have in mind? A belly ring? Maybe a diamond studded tongue ring? I don't know if they make vulva rings, but—” she clamped a hand over her mouth and giggled, looking around to see if anyone was listening. “Sorry! I guess I got carried away."
Something wasn't right, Michael thought, narrowing his eyes behind his sunglasses. Ashley wasn't normally crude, and she mostly definitely wasn't crude in public. But whatever it was, Michael couldn't quite put his finger on it. She seemed sincere, right down to her not-so-subtle digs about Candy's body piercing.
Not that he was surprised that she knew, considering Kim's penchant for keeping them both informed. After all, he knew personal things about Tom. For instance; he knew that Tom loved the opera and hated working up a sweat. The wimp. How could a vibrant, physical woman like Ashley be attracted to someone who thought picking up the newspaper was exercise?
The woman he had known loved good old-fashioned rock-n-roll.
"Michael? Are you okay? You look a little pale."
Staring into her beautiful, unobtainable face, Michael heard himself saying, “I'm fine. I was just thinking about Candy's engagement ring. She wants something big and shiny."
Ashley let out a husky peal of laughter that drew the admiring stares of several men. “Of course she does! What woman wouldn't want something big and shiny?"
Again, that brilliant, sunny smile flashed up at him, and Michael felt that peculiar quirk again.
"You should take a look at these.” She took his hand and pulled him closer to the glass case, pointing at an impressive array of diamond rings. “See that one? The one with the cluster of diamonds around a huge one in the center?” She shrugged. “Of course, it's really expensive, so if you're thinking of something smaller—"
"I'll take it,” Michael told the vendor. From the corner of his eye, he saw Ashley's eyes widen. The sight of it gave him a blast of satisfaction that nearly made him forget his hangover.
"Those earrings would go well with the ring,” Ashley suggested.
"I'll take those, too.” Out of sheer perversity, he pointed to a glittering diamond necklace. “Add the necklace. Wouldn't want to break up a family, would we?” Beside him, Ashley gasped.
"Michael, that's—that's over ten thousand dollars! Are you sure—"
"I'm sure.” And then, with a sincerity that equaled hers, he added, “Candy's worth every penny, and then some."
"Hm,” she murmured, taking his elbow after he concluded his purchases. They began to stroll between the long row of booths. “You must have won a bundle at the casino last night."
Michael shrugged. “As a matter of fact, I lost. I don't think I'm going to win back Kim's money.” And then, in an undertone, he added, “Crazy nut, for insisting I bet it all on one hand. She knows I hate to gamble.” He felt Ashley jerk, as if in surprise, which confused him. His adversity to gambling shouldn't have surprised her.
"What? Kim made you bet her money on one hand? The two thousand?"
It was Michael's turn to be surprised. “She told you about the two thousand? She made me promise not to say anything to anyone. She didn't want anyone else thinking she was crazy, like granddad."
"Michael!” Ashley protested. “She's your sister and my best friend."
"Exactly. And that's why I can call her crazy."
"She's not crazy. Eccentric, maybe. But not crazy."
Suddenly, she squealed like a school girl and began to drag him to a booth.
"Look at these paintings, Michael! Aren't they gorgeous? And they're by a local artist, which makes them even more priceless."
Michael eyed the oil painting depicting a nut-brown child chasing a giant sea turtle crawling along a white sandy beach. Beyond the beach stretched a blue lagoon lined with palm trees so authentic-looking he could almost see them swaying in the tropical breeze.
His brows rose as he caught sight of the price tag. “Priceless isn't the word for it. Highway robbery, maybe. They probably bought them from the artist for peanuts."
"Oh, who cares? Tom would love to have one. Or two."
"Why not make it a dozen?” Michael asked with thinly veiled sarcasm.
Ashley gave his arm a playful slap. “We don't have that much room in our cabin, silly."
The rest of the day continued in the same bizarre manner. By the time they returned to the ship, Michael could barely see over the armful of packages he carried.
Presents for Tom and Candy. After all, his pride had taken a beating. He couldn't very well stand by and let Ashley shower Tom with expensive presents without doing the same for Candy, could he?
No, he couldn't.
He just hoped Kim liked everything he'd bought for Candy.
* * * *
Ashley's mud pack couldn't disguise her steady flow of tears. In fact, the muddy rivulets running down her cheeks were so noticeable, the tiny Asian man applying a clear coat to her toes tried to get her to talk about it.
"Jon good listener,” he volunteered.
She couldn't see him, but she could hear the pity in his voice. She sniffed and shook her head, and a chunk of mud went flying from her chin. There was a splat, then a surprised grunt.
Mortified, Ashley cautiously turned her head until the unfortunate woman filing her nails came into view. Her name tag read, Blair. “I'm sorry, Blair,” she whispered. “I just can't seem to stop crying."
The manicurist gave her a pitying smile and patted her arm. “Dat's okay, honey. You just go ahead and cry, mon. If you feel you want to talk about it, Jon and I are listening."
Jon indicated his willingness again by squeezing her toes.
Blair was Cajun, Ashley realized belatedly. Maybe she knew a few voodoo spells. At the moment, she would have used them on Michael to make a blistering boil rise on his—
"Men,” Blair said in a disgusted voice. “Dey sometimes need to be smacked around."
Despite her bleak mood, Ashley nearly laughed at Blair's statement. Broad-shouldered and around six foot, Ashley could easily imagine Blair smacking her husband around.
Blair thrust Ashley's finger tips into a warm liquid and slapped her hands against her knees. “Let dat soak, I would. Relax."
Ashley cracked one eye just in time to see Blair haul Jon to his feet and literally yank him out of the room.
She was left alone with her thoughts, and they weren't pretty.
Oh, how foolish she f
elt! Michael didn't have a gambling problem at all. Not that he deserved her concern if he did. And instead of coming forward with the truth about last night, he had been relieved when she had acted as if she hadn't known he'd been gone.
Nothing about him had changed; he still couldn't be trusted. The one time she had given him the benefit of the doubt, he had made a fool out of her.
Served her right for forgetting, even for an instant, that Michael was bad news.
Another chunk of mud slipped from her face and plopped to the floor. Ashley couldn't bring herself to care. How was she going to get through the rest of the cruise without letting Michael know how much he'd hurt her—again? Could she continue the farce?
She didn't see how. The first time he touched her and she resisted, he would know something was wrong, and it wouldn't take him long to figure out the truth. After that, he would also figure out that he'd hurt her, and for him to hurt her, he would have to realize that she cared a lot more than she should.
Then he would gloat.
Oh, it was all a big mess! She wished she had never gotten on the damned ship. As for Kim ... maybe Kim would finally see, once and for all, that she and Michael were all wrong for each other, and stop trying to throw them together.
The only light in the tunnel, as far as Ashley could see, was the fact that she no longer felt compelled to spend every waking moment with Michael.
He didn't have a gambling problem.
So what had Kim meant about the money? Michael had spent a lot of money buying presents for a non-existent girlfriend. Not the actions of a man heading for bankruptcy. And why was Michael lying to her about Candy, anyway? Was it for the very same reason she lied to him about Tom?
Despite the fact that she was doing it to keep Michael at an emotional distance, the possibility that Michael was using Candy for the same reason actually hurt. Was the thought of loving her that abhorrent to Michael? And why the hell would she care anyway?
Nothing in this world could convince her that Michael was capable of loving her unconditionally, and most importantly, faithfully.
In high school, already half in-love with him, she had watched him go through the entire senior class of girls, one by one. Amazingly, the girls seemed to remain fond of him after he moved on to the next one.
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