* * * *
In her search for the passenger list, Ashley discovered something that made her forget, for the moment, the missing list.
The diamond watch and cufflinks she'd bought were gone.
She stared at the empty drawer of her night stand, silently berating herself for putting the expensive jewelry in such a vulnerable place. Michael had always complained that she was too trusting.
Methodically, she went over every inch of the room again. The only place she hadn't looked was in the drawer where Michael kept his underclothes and personal items.
There would be no reason for the items to be in there, she told herself, sinking onto the edge of the bed. When? When had someone had the opportunity to come in and steal the items?
But then, there had been any number of times she and Michael had been gone from the cabin since returning to the ship with the jewelry.
And she had just gotten out of the shower.
Ashley shivered at the thought of a stranger prowling around the cabin while she took a shower. How would they have gotten in? Could Michael have been careless enough to leave the cabin door unlocked when he left this morning?
She got up and walked to the door, twisting the knob to see if it was locked.
At the same instant, the door knob was jerked out of her grasp. She gasped and jumped back, hugging the damp towel.
It was Michael. He looked startled to find her so close to the door. “Ashley?” Noting her pale face, he frowned and closed the door. “What is it?"
"I—I was looking for the passenger list—” Was that guilt she saw flare for an instant in his eyes? She stopped abruptly, considering, for the first time, that Michael might have taken the items. Why hadn't it occurred to her? It was just the kind of spiteful stunt he might pull. In fact, he'd probably thrown them overboard!
The possibility grew as Michael appeared to have a problem with looking her in the eye. “Michael,” she began slowly. “Did you do something with Tom's watch and cufflinks?” Michael's jaw dropped, forcing Ashley to reconsider her suspicions. He now looked genuinely shocked by her question ... when she was certain that only moments ago, he'd looked guilty!
"Are you out of your mind?” he asked angrily. “You think that I would steal from you?"
"Well, maybe not steal, per se. Maybe throw them overboard, so that I couldn't give them to Tom—"
"That would imply that I was jealous,” Michael cut in softly, in a tone she knew meant that he was furious. “Besides, why would I go to all that trouble when I know that there is no Tom?"
Ashley failed to stifle a gasp of surprise. She tried, desperately, to deny his accusation. He couldn't know, not unless Kim had told him. And Kim had promised! “What do you mean, there is no Tom? Of course there's a Tom! He's my fiancé—"
"And he's gay."
"He's not!” Ashley wished she wore more than a towel, because she could feel an all-over body blush coming on as she told the lie. “Why—why would you say that?” How could he know? Kim had promised, and Ashley couldn't believe that Kim would break that promise.
"The bartender told me."
For a moment, Ashley's mind went blank. “How—how would a bartender know?"
Michael's smile was grim. “His name is Rick, and he's a friend of Kim's.” Her shock must have shown, for he nodded. “Yeah, that's the guy. I see you've met him."
"Yes, but—” She sighed and shook her head. “I just can't see Kim breaking a promise.” Then, realizing what she'd revealed, she bit her lip, praying he hadn't noticed. No sense in arousing his curiosity about why she'd made Kim promise not to tell Michael about Tom.
"Kim has a sneaky way of getting around those promises she makes,” Michael said with a mixture of exasperation and affection. “She doesn't think she's breaking a promise if she elicits someone else to do the telling."
Ashley grimaced, thinking about the long talk she was going to have with Kim about splitting hairs—right after the talk she had with her about Michael. She hitched up her towel and returned to the real subject at hand. “If you didn't take them, then that means ... someone else did."
"Have you looked everywhere?"
She jerked her head in the direction of the chest of drawers where he kept his clothes and personal items. “Everywhere but there."
"I'll check. Maybe the maid moved them."
Ashley thought it highly unlikely, but she kept silent and hopeful as Michael carefully looked through all three drawers. He was frowning by the time he finished.
"Nope. Not in there.” His frown deepened as he added, “We've definitely been robbed."
"You mean—"
"Yes, the engagement ring, necklace—all gone. Unless you took them thinking that I had taken yours."
She shook her head vehemently. “No, I didn't touch them. Why would I? I know that they're not for Candy."
It was Michael's turn to look surprised. “Rick?"
"No. She—Candy called you on your cell phone. Before I could think, I answered it. I'd been talking to Kim, so when it rang immediately afterward—"
"It doesn't matter. What did she want?"
"She wanted to know if you were still taking her to the Policeman's Ball."
Michael's chuckle was dry. “That sounds like her. Dump a guy, and then expect him to keep a date when it's convenient for her."
"She dumped you?” Although Candy had said as much, Ashley realized she hadn't truly believed her. She couldn't imagine anyone dumping Michael. Women loved him ... as she well knew.
"Don't look so surprised,” Michael drawled. “You dumped me, remember?"
"I—"
"Never mind. Why don't you get dressed and I'll tell you all about it over breakfast.” He paused, his gaze moving with increasing warmth over her towel-clad figure. “We'll eat in another dining room—away from our meddling friends."
Ashley ignored the excited leap of her heart at the prospect of dining with Michael. Alone. “What about the jewelry?"
"We'll report the theft after breakfast."
"Maybe that's why they took the passenger list,” Ashley said, mostly to herself. “They plan on robbing someone else and wanted to familiarize themselves with the passengers."
It was a long moment before Michael answered.
"Yeah, maybe."
* * * *
Michael watched as Ashley spread cream cheese on a toasted bagel and daintily sank her teeth into it. He was very glad for the concealment of the table, because just watching her eat turned him on.
Big time.
It also jarred his memory of a time when he'd served her breakfast in bed. A rainy Saturday, he recalled. But they hadn't cared about the weather, and breakfast had been forgotten until hours later when they realized they were ravenous. And was it any wonder after three hot, steamy bouts of lovemaking?
Every time with Ashley was like the first for him. He felt the same intense excitement, the same zing of anticipation.
"Do I have something on my teeth?” Ashley asked, pausing with the bagel inches from her luscious mouth.
Michael cleared his throat, casually dropping his napkin over the rise in his pants in case she happened to drop her knife or her napkin—again. He didn't think he would ever forget the way she'd lifted a taunting brow, asking, “Is that rogue itch bothering you again?"
"Um, no. I was just thinking.” Wrong answer. He knew it the moment it came out of his mouth.
"About what?"
"About Kim,” he lied. “I think it's time she concentrated on her own love life. Maybe then she'd keep her pert little nose out of ours."
Ashley smiled, and this time she did have something on her teeth. Michael suppressed a grin and said nothing.
"Too bad we don't have the connections she has,” Ashley said. “We'd ship her to a deserted island with about a dozen single men."
Her smile turned impish, causing Michael to squirm in his chair to ease the tightness of his pants. God, she was gorgeous, even with a piece of bage
l stuck between her teeth! And he still loved her.
"Hand selected, of course,” she added, dusting her hands together as she finished her bagel. “Now, let's get down to business. Is there anyone else on this ship under Kim's spell, other than Rick the bartender?"
After a slight hesitation, Michael shook his head. However unfair, warning her about Deckland was not an option, because Deckland had given her a clue to finding out something Michael definitely didn't want her to find out.
Discovering he still loved Ashley made him more determined than ever to hide his secret. Loving Ashley and trusting Ashley were two completely separate issues.
"Not that I'm aware of,” he said, keeping his expression carefully neutral. “But I do know that she arranged the cabin mixup, and I wouldn't be at all surprised if she dropped a bug in Candy's ear about the Policeman's Ball so she would call me—knowing you held my cell phone."
Ashley wiped her mouth and steepled her hands in front of her, looking pensive. “That's pretty calculating, Michael. I know Kim meddles sometimes—” She stopped abruptly when Michael lifted an incredulous brow. “Okay, so she meddles a lot."
"Even that's an understatement, darlin'. From the day our divorce became final, she's made it her life's work to mend the break between us."
Her gaze dropped. She picked at the corner of her napkin as she said, “I know. I've talked until I'm hoarse, but she just doesn't understand that some things can't be mended."
"Like us,” Michael murmured, watching her. Wondering why she wouldn't look at him. Did she hate him that much? He wondered with a sharp pang of despair.
"Yeah, like us.” Suddenly, she brightened. “Hey, maybe this cruise was her final attempt before she gave up. You have to admit, she went to a lot of trouble to get us together.” She grabbed her juice glass and took a drink. “And knowing Kim, she put her business on the line to finance this setup."
Michael had to drag his gaze from her moistened lips.
"You were going to tell me about Candy,” she prompted.
"Yes, as long as you are going to tell me about Tom."
She grimaced. “It's not a pretty story, but you've got a deal. You first."
"There's not really much to tell. We went out for six months, and I thought everything was going along fine. When I proposed to her the day Kim called to offer me this free cruise, Candy laughed at me.” He winced inwardly at the lie. Kim hadn't offered the cruise, of course. But he couldn't tell her the truth.
Ashley covered her mouth to stifle a horrified laugh. “Ooops. Sorry! It's just that I can't imagine a woman laughing at you ... for anything."
She was blushing, Michael observed. His own smile was rueful. “She said she thought I knew we were just friends."
"And you didn't have a clue? Not one?"
Michael frowned, thinking hard. Finally, he shrugged. “No, I didn't. We went out several times a week. Her friends thought we were a couple, I'm sure of it.” His lips twisted. “I guess it's true what they say about the man being the last to know."
"Sounds like my story. Tom and I were a couple to everyone and to each other ... only I turned out to be the wrong gender."
"Have you talked to him since you found out?"
"No.” She heaved a great sigh. “I've just got one question I want to ask him, and I'm waiting until I cool down before I ask it."
"What's that?"
"Why? I want to know what his plans were when he proposed to me. Was I supposed to be a smoke screen for his alternate lifestyle? Did the jerk actually think I would stay married to him once I found out?"
Michael felt his heart stop. “So you and he—you never—"
"No.” She was blushing again. “We never did. I guess that should have been a big clue for me. After all, Tom is a man."
A fierce, dangerous relief flooded him. Later, Michael would blame that relief on his next reckless question. “Have you slept with anyone at all since ... me?"
Her jaw dropped. She snapped it closed, anger darkening her eyes. “Of course I've slept with other men."
But Michael saw the lie in her eyes, and his heart started beating again. Pounding. Joyously. Foolishly. Instead of challenging her, he let it go. He knew first hand about pride, didn't he? Which made him extremely ready for her reckless question.
"How about you?"
He made a face, as if he couldn't believe she would ask such a question. “It's different for a man, Ashley."
She snorted and looked away, but not before he saw the pain in her eyes.
The sight of that pain locked his heart again—this time with shock. He believed that she hated him. So why would his careless lie hurt her? If he had told her the truth, chances are she wouldn't have believed him anyway.
When she turned back to him, she wore a bright smile very similar to the one she wore on the island, the same smile that had tickled his instincts.
"So,” she said with a false brightness that matched her false smile. “We're both aware of Kim's elaborate plan to mix oil and water. Now we can be on our guard against further plotting."
"Right."
"You've told me everything you know, and I've told you everything I know."
This time Michael's, “Right,” came out a little slower. Lies never came easy to him; this one was no exception.
"Now we can concentrate on finding out who stole our jewelry. Got any suspicions?"
Michael considered her question. Slowly, he said, “I would think it had to be someone who knew we'd bought the jewelry. If I were a thief, I wouldn't take a chance sneaking into someone's cabin unless I had a good idea of what I would find."
"Good thinking. Hm. That could be anyone from the ship, couldn't it? I mean, a lot of people went to shore that day."
"I was thinking of someone a little closer,” Michael suggested.
Ashley's eyes went wide. “Michael! You're not thinking it could be Deckland or Tanya, or the Scotts?"
He didn't like to think it, no, but he had to admit they would be his first suspects if he were heading an impartial investigation. Grimly, he explained his reasoning. “They know a lot about us, and their cabins are close to ours. They can see us come and go."
She put her hands over her face and shook her head, as if the idea were too awful to contemplate. Finally, she pulled her hands away. “Michael, if it's okay with you, I'd rather we kept this to ourselves for a little while longer. If one of our dinner companions—friends—stole the jewelry, I would like to know their reasons before we turn them in."
"You want to play detective?” Michael asked, surprised and yes, pleased at the prospect. If it meant spending more time with Ashley ... precious little time, considering the fact that they only had two days to go before the cruise ended, then he was definitely agreeable. “Okay, as long as you're ready and open to the possibility that it could be one of them."
"Good. Have any ideas as to how to begin?"
"As a matter of fact...” Michael lowered his voice and leaned closer. Ashley did the same. As he explained his plan to her, he realized that for the first time since they bumped into one another in the cabin, they were having a civilized conversation that didn't include sex or the past.
He wasn't certain if he should feel relief or trepidation.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Twenty
"Are you sure you won't join us?” Birdie pressed.
The elderly woman had been pestering Ashley for the past fifteen minutes, and Ashley was beginning to think she'd never leave. She had asked the same question at least five times.
Ashley sniffled and brought another tissue to her streaming eyes. Amazing, she thought, what a little pepper sauce could accomplish! “I'm sure, Birdie. After the fight I had with Michael, I just couldn't stand all that revelry. You're such a sweetheart for offering to let me stay in your cabin."
Birdie picked up a list from a small table by the porthole. She squinted as she looked at it. “But the hotel's serving an authentic Mexican bu
ffet, and Marvin the Magician's doing a show—"
"I couldn't."
"Well,” Birdie sighed. “I guess there's no changing your mind for now. I gotta tell you, though, after two nights on this ship, I'm looking forward to sleeping in a bed that doesn't move."
"You mean four nights.” With another miserable-sounding sniff, Ashley added perversely, “I hadn't noticed.” Maybe because she and Michael had been doing a lot of moving the bed on their own.
Birdie, wearing a black satin teddy and nothing more, planted her hands on her hips, her expression one of deep concern. “Honey, I hate leaving you here all alone."
Ashley swallowed a frustrated sigh. The woman was impossibly stubborn. “I'll be fine, I promise. Maybe—maybe I'll join you later at the hotel.” To her great relief, Birdie gave up and finished dressing. After she was dressed, she chatted as she consulted the list in her hand, and then tossed items haphazardly into a small suitcase.
With a jangle, a pair of gold-plated handcuffs landed on top of the bag. Ashley prudently pretended not to notice as Birdie indifferently shoved them inside the bag.
"Tomorrow Tanya and I plan to spend the day shopping while the men go fishing,” Birdie said. “We don't have to be back on the ship until six o'clock tomorrow evening, you know. Plenty of time for you to change your mind and join us."
At few moments later, Birdie planted a moist kiss on Ashley's cheek and left her alone in the cabin.
Ashley stretched out on the bed and counted slowly to one hundred. If Birdie had forgotten something, she wanted to give the unsuspecting woman plenty of time to come back.
Finally, Ashley rolled from the bed and began her search of the cabin. As she methodically looked through every drawer and closet, she wondered how Michael was faring. Did he feel as much like a snoop, as she did?
She pulled open a drawer, glanced inside, started to shut it, and then did a double-take. Although she was alone, she felt herself blush.
Big time.
Inside the drawer was an assortment of sex toys, some she didn't even recognize, and a few that made her brows shoot upward.
No doubt about it—if there had ever been any doubt—the Scotts were as kinky as they come.
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