Hot Number

by Sheridon Smythe

  In college, it had been the same.

  When he finally noticed that she was no longer Kim's little friend, but a woman in her own right, she had been wary. Who wouldn't have been? It had taken him two months to convince her to go out with him. Six months to convince her to consider marrying him, and another six months to get her in front of a preacher.

  She'd never lost her reservations about Michael settling down with one woman, not completely. Always, the fear had been at the back of her mind, waiting for an opportunity to make her nuts.

  The constant reminders hadn't helped. The way his buddies always teased him and talked about his past as if he had been the stud of all studs and they couldn't get over how much he'd changed.

  The phone calls from old girlfriends just calling to wish him a happy birthday. Harmless ... but annoying. With an attractive man like Michael, her jealousy had never lacked for food, although she thought she had kept a fairly good lid on it. Sometimes it had showed, and when that happened, Michael had teased her until she felt foolish.

  Finally, there had come a time in their marriage when she had started feeling more secure and confident. Her flashes of doubt and jealousy became rare, almost non-existent.

  That's when Ashley had been the happiest.

  And that's when Michael had done the unforgivable, ending it all in a heartbeat of time. Their beautiful life together—their beautiful love—shattered in an instant of betrayal.

  Afterward, Ashley had had her moments when she thought, “What if he's telling the truth?” But then she would close her eyes and bring up the tortuous image of the blonde bimbo sitting on top of Michael, riding him and moaning with pleasure.

  The blonde had been blocking her view of Michael's face, and Ashley had been glad. She might have died right there on the spot if she had had to witness Michael's expression of pleasure at the hands of another woman.

  As it was, she had barely made it to the hotel restroom down the hall before she began to retch uncontrollably. Oh, the pain! The pain had been deep and wrenching. She thought it would never stop, that her heart would just give up and stop beating.

  It felt like grief, and Ashley supposed that in a sense it had been. If she had found Michael dead, she didn't think she could have hurt any worse.

  The disadvantage of loving someone as wildly as she had loved Michael became very clear to her over the next few weeks and months.

  To love someone that intensely, the pain of losing them had to be bad.

  And it was. She lost sleep. She lost weight. And for a while, she lost her will to give a damn about anything, because it could all be gone in a flash.

  But eventually her grief faded and numbness set in. After that ran its course, caution took its place. If she were cautious, she could avoid another man like Michael, another marriage like theirs, and another consuming love with the power to destroy.

  Tom would have fit the bill.

  Perhaps it was just as well, Ashley mused as her tears stopped and the mud dried on her face, most people aren't fortunate to meet their true soul mate in their lifetimes.

  They were the lucky ones. They wouldn't have to go through life feeling as if a part of them was missing.

  Ashley nearly shrieked as a shadow fell over her face.

  "Mrs. Kavanagh?"

  She squinted at the freckled-face man through one mud-caked eye. Briefly, she considered correcting him, then decided it wasn't worth the effort. “That's me."

  "Are you ready for your tatoo?"

  Swallowing hard, Ashley nodded. After her tatoo there was the sauna, then the hairdresser, then a leisurely shopping spree to the dozen or so boutiques on the ship, followed by a few drinks at the bar.

  Had she left anything out? Anything that would keep her away from the cabin and Michael until she absolutely had to go back?

  Maybe she'd get her belly-button pierced...

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Chapter Seventeen

  Standing in the doorway to the ship's gym, Michael surveyed the equipment with a critical eye. He was surprised to find everything state-of-the art.

  He wasn't surprised to find the room empty at this time of night. The casinos and lounges on the ship would be a far greater attraction for vacationers than working up a sweat on the Bowflex.

  But Michael couldn't think of a better way to work out his frustration than pumping iron or rowing as if his life depended on it. Even the stair master looked more appealing than any curvy blonde he could imagine.

  His rueful smile went unnoticed as he made his way to the complicated work-out machine in one corner of the room. Yes, he was a sorry sight, alright, mooning over his ex-wife while she fantasized about her fiancé.

  He settled on the seat of the Bowflex and pulled the weighted handles forward, touching his chest and holding the position to the count of ten.

  Did she dream of Tom when they made love? He wondered. It was the first time the possibility had occurred to Michael, and he silently cursed his conceit. It was obvious she was nuts about Tom, so why wouldn't she pretend he was Tom? If Tom had been on the ship, he and Ashley might never have exchanged more than a few stiff, polite words.

  Michael closed his eyes and tried to concentrate on his work out. It felt good to feel his muscles tighten and his heart beat increase to a rapid, healthy rate.

  Something Ashley could do with one smile, one flirty sweep of her lashes. A sassy crooking of her little finger.

  It was no use. As hard as he tried, he couldn't not think about Ashley. Three nights and four days in her company, and he was hopelessly hooked. Again.

  Thinking about the past was a waste of time, Michael knew, but he couldn't help doing just that. What if he'd never gone to that bachelor party? What if his friends had never convinced that stripper to climb into bed with him? What if they had, and Ashley hadn't walked in?

  He knew without a doubt that he wouldn't have taken advantage of what the stripper had offered. He knew, but Ashley hadn't believed him. She had gone back home, packed her things, and moved in with her parents until the divorce was final.

  She had refused to speak to him. Oh, she had listened to his buddies, but she hadn't believed them. In a fit of desperation, Michael had gone back to Aspen, found the stripper, and convinced her to return with him and explain to Ashley that the entire incident had been a joke.

  Ashley had refused to talk to the woman.

  It was at that point that Michael realized Ashley was sadly lacking a basic ingredient for maintaining a good marriage. He had given up, allowing anger to soothe his shattered heart. Never again, he had decided, would he allow a woman to have that kind of power over him.

  Yet here he was, pushing his body to the limit in the hopes of forgetting how wonderful Ashley had felt in his arms these last few nights. He'd forgotten what the sound of her laughter could do to his insides. He'd forgotten what a punch her smile carried.

  He'd forgotten, dammit, how much he had loved her.

  Loved her still.

  His cell phone rang. Michael let out an explosive breath and reached for the phone, flipping it open as he brought it to his ear. Breathlessly, he said, “Hello?"

  "Michael? It's Kim. How are things going? Are you having a good time? Did you buy me a souvenir?"

  Michael thought about the fortune in jewelry he'd hidden in his chest drawer. Souvenir? More like a few years worth of birthday and Christmas presents rolled into one glittering package. “Yeah, I bought you something very special. Not that you deserve it,” he added dourly. He could very easily picture Kim pouting at his tone.

  "Now, Michael. Can you honestly say you're having a terrible time?"

  "Hm. Let's see if this gives you a hint. I'm in the gym working out."

  "You're working out on a cruise ship?” Kim squeaked in disbelief. “Michael! You're supposed to be having fun! Go lie in the sun or take a dip in the pool. By the way, where's Ashley?"

  Before Michael could think, he said, “Probably back in the c
abin, admiring the five thousand dollar watch she bought for Tom."

  Kim was silent for several moments. “Oh, I doubt that,” she said rather smugly.

  "Come again?” What was his meddling little sister up to now? Michael wondered.

  "I promised not to tell."

  "Kim..."

  "But I can make a suggestion,” she said, ignoring his warning tone. “Why don't you go have a drink at the bar?"

  "Because I drank enough last night to drown a fish,” Michael snarled. “And I'm not in the mood for your games."

  Once again, Kim ignored him. “Ask for Rick's Remedy. He'll tell you what you need to know."

  This time Kim was the one hanging up. Michael let out a stream of curses that made him glad he was alone in the gym. “One of these days,” he muttered. He stood and wiped the sweat from his brow with a towel, then slipped his T-shirt over his head. He stomped from the gym and headed in the direction of the bar.

  How deep was he going to sink before the ship docked in Ft. Lauderdale? He couldn't believe he was actually seeking the company of a man who had flagrantly blackmailed him! If he had the slightest bit of sense, he would ignore Kim's pitiful—and totally useless—attempts to mend the fences between him and Ashley.

  But then, he'd never claimed to have much sense where Ashley was concerned. It was one of the reasons he found himself in his current situation; that of mooning over his ex-wife again.

  How foolish could a man get?

  Rick looked up as Michael slid onto a bar stool and slapped his hand onto the bar. He glowered at the grinning bartender, “Give me your remedy or whatever the hell it is I'm supposed to say."

  With his customary shrug, Rick began mixing various liquids at a speed Michael could scarcely follow. Grudgingly, Michael admitted that the man was good at his job. Too bad he had a nasty habit of blackmailing people.

  Rich set the drink before Michael with a flourish. Michael eyed it with suspicion before taking a drink.

  "Oh, and I'm supposed to tell you that Tom is gay,” Rick announced just as Michael filled his mouth with the too-sweet concoction.

  Michael blew the liquid onto the bar, gasping for air. Rick leaned over and pounded him on the back until tears ran down Michael's cheeks.

  Finally, when he could breathe again, he demanded, “Come again?” He wanted to be absolutely certain he'd heard Rick correctly.

  "Tom's gay. Like's men. Goes with the same sex. Get's turned on—"

  "I get the picture,” Michael inserted hastily. “How do you know? I mean, how does Kim know?"

  "Believe me, she knows. She would never tell you something that important without proof.” He began mopping up the mess Michael had made.

  "It isn't important,” Michael said, knowing he was lying through his teeth. If it wasn't important, then why did he feel this ridiculous elation? “Does Ashley know?"

  Rick nodded. “Indeed she does.” He glanced around, and then leaned across the bar. “Kim says she wasn't that beat up about it, either."

  Michael's mouth went dry at the implications. He gave his head a slight shake, warning himself not to get too excited. “When did Ashley find out?"

  "Yesterday evening."

  Before they docked. Before Ashley bought those outrageous wedding gifts for Tom. What was she trying to prove? Why did she want him to believe she was happily engaged? Was she using Tom for the same reason he was using Candy—as a safeguard?

  The possibility intrigued Michael more than he cared to admit.

  * * * *

  Hiding in her cabin wasn't an option, not as long as she shared it with Michael. Besides, if she didn't show for dinner, then someone might get careless and let Michael know that she knew where he had spent the night.

  And she wasn't ready for him to know.

  So Ashley arrived at the table dressed to kill and wearing a painted-on smile that hurt her mouth.

  To her relief, she saw that Michael had yet to join them. She slipped into her chair and pretended not to notice the sudden silence. Smiling brightly at one and all, she clasped her hands in front of her and said, “So, what's new?"

  "I've got a nice surprise for you,” Deckland announced. He handed her a thin stack of papers stapled together in the left hand corner. “See if that doesn't cheer you."

  Ashley stared at the list of names in growing excitement. “It's—it's the passenger list! How did you get this?"

  Deckland smiled mysteriously. “I can't reveal my sources, I'm afraid. Just don't go flashing it around, okay?"

  Not about to look a gift-horse in the mouth, Ashley tucked the list beside her plate, anticipating the moment when she was alone in the cabin and could look over the list at her leisure. Deckland had no idea what a life-saver he was, she thought, flashing him a grateful smile. She needed all the distraction she could get to keep her mind off Michael.

  "Hey, gorgeous!” a deep voice murmured in her ear, sending a shiver down her back. “You look good enough to eat."

  Speak of the devil and here he was, looking mouth-watering in jeans and a pull-over white polo shirt that emphasized his golden tan. There wasn't a man alive that could top Michael in a pair of butt-hugging jeans, Ashley admitted, dragging her gaze back to her salad. And why did he sound so cheerful? No doubt because he believed he had gotten away with his despicable attempt to hit on poor Tanya.

  Ashley shot a glance at Tanya, not surprised to find the woman looking everywhere but at Michael. When her gaze met Ashley's, Ashley winked to show that there were no hard feelings as far as she was concerned. Tanya visibly relaxed, but continued to avoid Michael's gaze.

  Michael, on the other hand, talked and joked with everyone at the table as if everything in his life was just peachy. The rat.

  The dinner seemed to go on forever. Finally, Ashley excused herself and rose from the table, muttering something about a headache and needing to lie down. She hoped Michael got the hint and stayed away from the cabin. If she had to spend much more time with him, she might be too tempted to blast him with her contempt.

  "Don't forget your passenger list,” Deckland said, nodding at the folded paper beside her plate.

  Ashley grabbed it, smiling at Deckland. “I wasn't about to forget it, but thanks.” She froze as Michael's fingers curled around her wrist.

  "Passenger list?” he echoed.

  "Yes, the passenger list.” She couldn't help sounding a little smug as she added, “Deckland was sweet enough to get it for me."

  "Oh, he was, was he?” Michael asked softly, his narrowed gaze flickering between Deckland and Ashley. “That was enterprising of him, wasn't it?"

  Exasperated by his absurd show of jealousy, Ashley pulled her wrist free. “You can drop the act, Michael. I told them we were divorced.” She forced herself to laugh at his startled expression as if everything in her life was just peachy. “Now we're free to do as we please."

  * * * *

  The moment Ashley was out of ear shot, Michael folded his arms and glared at his dinner companions.

  Each and every one of them looked as guilty as hell.

  "She knows,” he stated, daring them to deny it. “And she's furious."

  Birdie sighed and nodded.

  Bart cleared his throat. “I'm afraid you're right, Michael."

  A dinner roll bounced off his right shoulder, drawing his attention to Tanya's flushed expression. Ashley wasn't the only one that was furious, he realized.

  "I told her that you loved her, but she didn't believe me,” Tanya said.

  Michael stiffened. “You what?"

  "Yes, she told her,” Birdie said. “And that girl just kept on walking."

  "Let's get something straight,” Michael growled. “I don't love Ashley. We were married once, and I might have loved her then, but that's in the past. I care about her, of course—"

  "Hogwash,” Bart said with a dismissive wave.

  "It isn't hogwash.” Michael wanted to smash something. He kept his arms firmly folded so he wouldn't be te
mpted. “How could I love her? As you can see, she lives to believe the worst about me."

  Tanya lifted a sarcastic brow, making him flush. “I wonder why, Michael. You've certainly done nothing to deserve her mistrust, have you?"

  "You know why I hit on you. I explained all of that."

  "To Tanya,” Birdie inserted gently. “But you didn't explain it to Ashley."

  "And I'm not going to.” They had no idea what they were asking, Michael fumed. To try and explain to Ashley why he had hit on Tanya would be opening himself up to ridicule and outright disbelief.

  She hadn't believed him then, and she wouldn't believe him now. He knew it. They just didn't know it. No, he wouldn't go there again. Ha! He'd be crazy to even think of putting himself through that kind of hell. Besides, he couldn't explain without admitting that he still loved her.

  "Well, I think you should,” Deckland said. “And I'm giving you my professional advice. You two obviously have something rare and wonderful. It would be a shame to waste it."

  Michael had had enough. “With all due respect to everyone, you don't really know Ashley. When she sets her mind to believe something, nothing or nobody will change it."

  "Nobody is that narrow-minded,” Birdie said.

  Rising, Michael looked grimly at Birdie. He hated to disillusion her, but he didn't see any other choice. “You're wrong about that, Birdie. Unfortunately, you're dead wrong."

  "You could at least try!” Tanya called after his retreating back. “You coward!"

  And that was something Michael couldn't deny. As far as Ashley was concerned, he was a coward, and he didn't care who knew it. Better a coward than a fool, he decided as he made his way to the upper deck for a quick work-out in the swimming pool.

  Thank God those busy-bodies didn't know the one thing he was determined to keep from Ashley! But if he didn't get that list from her, she would find out for herself, and that was a possibility Michael refused to contemplate.

  He stepped into a changing room and stripped down to the swimming trunks he wore beneath his clothes. Tonight, after Ashley had gone to sleep, he would hide the list from her. She would never suspect him of taking it. Why would she?