Sweet Promise

by Ginna Gray

  Unable to speak, Joanna nodded and fled.

  Magnificently naked, Sean stood in the middle of the floor for several seconds after the door closed behind her, a bemused smile tugging at his mouth. Feet apart, hands on his hip bones, he threw his head back and chuckled at the ceiling, a soft masculine rumble of amused self-derision. Joanna. Joanna Andrews. If anyone had told him, even a week ago, that she would become the center of his world he would have said they were crazy. Yet, that was exactly what she was. She had gotten under his skin, become as necessary to him as food and drink, as breathing. Even now he had to stifle the urge to stomp out after her and drag her back.

  God, Fleming. You've really got it bad if you can't bear to let her out of your sight for only a few minutes. Shaking his head, he turned and started for the shower.

  All the arguments he had given her for not getting involved were still valid, he reminded himself as he adjusted the water and stepped beneath the spray. He was too old for her. Too experienced. Their backgrounds were totally different. Though not exactly poor, he certainly wasn't in her financial bracket. And Claire and Matt would probably have a walleyed fit when they discovered that he and Joanna were lovers. Sean rubbed the bar of soap over his chest and shoulders, creating mounds of creamy lather. His face wore a pensive smile. Hell, Matt would probably get out his shotgun.

  It was a daunting list of negatives, but this morning they just didn't seem all that important. He squirted shampoo into his palm, closed his eyes and scrubbed his ebony curls until they squeaked. If he was going to have breakfast delivered before Joanna returned he would have to hurry. Sticking his head under the shower spray, he hummed happily as the bubbles streamed down over his face and sleek, wet body. Damn, I feel terrific!

  * * *

  Joanna felt wretched. Confused, sick at heart, she paced the floor of her sitting room. Though she tried to banish it, Sean's casual comment played over and over in her mind. "I came very close to falling in love with Claire myself."

  How close was close? A mild attraction? An infatuation? A burning passion? What?

  Joanna stopped by the window and stared out at the ocean gliding by. They were cruising leisurely toward Jamaica. This was a day at sea, a day she should be enjoying with Sean, not hiding out in her room harboring these nasty suspicions. But she couldn't help it. They gnawed at her unmercifully.

  Looking back, a lot of things were clearer now: the long, hard hours Sean had devoted to Claire's senatorial campaign four years ago—hours that had kept him in almost constant contact with her, the way he had been so protective of Claire when Matt had walked out on her, the fondness in his eyes whenever he looked at her mother. At the time Joanna had merely thought that he was an extremely good and conscientious press secretary, doing his job. Instead, it was unrequited love.

  Recalling the crush she'd had on Sean then, Joanna gave a bitter little laugh. She crossed her arms over her middle and gazed, unseeingly, at the sky. Lord! No wonder Sean hadn't even noticed that she was alive. He'd only had eyes for Claire.

  Not that she blamed him. Her mother was, then and now, a beautiful woman. She was also intelligent, articulate and very strong, yet she possessed that soft femininity that fascinated and charmed both men and women.

  Joanna knew perfectly well that there had never been anything between her mother and Sean, and that whatever Sean had felt, he had kept to himself. Claire was totally, passionately, irrevocably in love with Matt. Yet, every time Joanna thought of Sean loving her mother she felt a spurt of anger that terrified her.

  Making a harsh sound, Joanna turned away from the window and raked both hands through her silky hair, slicking it back away from her face and pressing her palms flat against her temples. Lord, she didn't want to feel this way. Especially not about her mother. It had taken a long time and a lot of growing up on Joanna's part for her to appreciate Claire. In the past few years they had developed a close and loving relationship, and Joanna didn't want anything to jeopardize that.

  She wanted very much to believe that Sean really cared for her, that what they had shared the night before had been special, but she couldn't help but wonder if she had just been a substitute for her mother. If the love that Matt felt for Claire could be extended to include her, then why couldn't Sean's?

  Tormented by the thought, Joanna paced faster. With every circuit of the room her movements grew more and more agitated. "I will not run the risk of being used," she muttered forcefully, fighting back tears of despair. "Nor will I allow myself to be eaten up with jealousy. I won't!"

  The vow had barely left her lips when the telephone rang, making Joanna jump. She swung around and stared at it as though it were a coiled snake about to strike. It shrilled repeatedly, but Joanna made no move to answer it. She knew who was calling.

  When the insistent ringing finally stopped, Joanna walked to the sofa and sat down. As she had known he would, within seconds Sean knocked on the door.

  "Joanna? Joanna are you in there?" She didn't reply, and after a few seconds he knocked again, harder this time. "Joanna?"

  He tried several more times and though she could detect the growing note of concern in his voice, she remained still and quiet. When at last the pounding stopped Joanna leaned her head back against the leather sofa and closed her eyes. Tears squeezed from between her lids and her chin quivered. Her heart felt like a lead weight in her chest.

  Joanna stayed in her room for the remainder of the day. Hiding. Hurting. Sean knocked on her door and called several more times, but she gritted her teeth and ignored him. She paced and cried. She lay on her bed and cried. She stared out at the sea and thought and cried. Over and over she told herself she was doing the right thing, but it didn't help.

  Lunch time came and went and Joanna didn't notice, but by evening her empty stomach was beginning to protest. Briefly, she considered ordering dinner in her suite, but quickly dismissed the idea. They would be cruising for another week yet. Sooner or later she was going to have to face Sean.

  Deciding that there was no point in prolonging the inevitable, she bathed her puffy eyes in cold water, applied her makeup carefully, donned a confidence-building strapless yellow voile dress and headed for the dining room.

  Hoping that Sean would not make a scene in front of the others, she deliberately arrived late. It was a futile hope, for he bounded up out of his chair the moment he saw her. His expression held not even a trace of his usual nonchalance.

  "Where the hell have you been?"

  "In my room."

  "In your room!" She couldn't have shocked him more if she had said she'd been on the moon.

  "Yes." Joanna gave him a cool look and slipped into her chair, leaving him standing there simmering impotently. As she calmly shook out her napkin and draped it across her lap she could feel his incredulous gaze raking over her.

  "I knocked on your door several times, and I called your room every half hour. Why the hell didn't you answer?"

  "Sean, please, don't stand there shouting. People are beginning to stare."

  "I don't give a good—" He bit off the profane curse he was about to utter and glanced around at the avid expressions on the faces of their table companions. A muscle rippled along his clenched jaw. With barely controlled violence, Sean flung himself back into his chair and leaned close to Joanna. "If you're worried about me making a scene, then you'd damn well better give me some answers, and fast. Why didn't you answer your door or your phone? For that matter, why the hell didn't you come back to my cabin like you were supposed to?"

  "Sean!" Joanna turned a deep pink and cast an anxious glance at the others.

  "Answer me."

  "I had a headache. I didn't feel like talking."

  "And you couldn't have picked up the phone and told me that? Dammit, Joanna, I spent the whole day searching this ship for you. I've been frantic. I was beginning to think you'd fallen overboard."

  "I'm sorry, but I really don't feel that I have to explain myself to you or anyone. Now, if yo
u don't mind, I'd like to order dinner. I'm starving. I haven't eaten all day."

  Sean seethed. Joanna could feel the fury radiating off him in waves, and she held her breath, sure that he was going to explode at any moment. Apparently so did the others, for no one moved or spoke.

  After what seemed like a small eternity, Sean said tightly between clenched teeth, "All right. We'll have dinner. But afterward you and I are going to have a talk."

  The silence around the table was so tense it fairly hummed. At first Mary tried to make small talk but everyone was so ill at ease, after a while she gave up. Despite a day without food, Joanna's appetite was nonexistent, and she did little more than move her food around on her plate. Sean didn't even pretend to be interested in eating. Throughout the meal he merely watched Joanna through narrowed eyes and sipped from the glass of bourbon beside his plate. The close scrutiny twanged her nerves like a plucked string.

  The others finished quickly and began to excuse themselves. When Mary announced that she and Charles were going to the show in the Caribbean Lounge, Joanna made a last-ditch attempt to avoid the confrontation that was brewing between her and Sean.

  "That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I join you?" she asked ingenuously, rising to her feet as they did.

  Mary and Charles exchanged dubious looks, but they were spared the necessity of a reply when Sean said succinctly, "I mind."

  Joanna sputtered, but before she could voice an objection he rose and clamped his hand firmly around her arm. With a nod and a terse, "Excuse us" for the Wrights, he turned and all but frog marched Joanna from the dining room.

  Without a word, he led her down the stairs to their deck. She shot him a cool glare when he stopped outside the door to her suite. "You surely don't expect me to invite you in?"

  "We need someplace private to talk. It's either this or my cabin. The choice is yours."

  Joanna gritted her teeth in silent frustration, but after a moment, dug into her purse for her key.

  "All right, now I want to know just what you think you're doing," Sean demanded the moment they stepped into the room, and the door clicked shut behind them.

  "I don't know what you're talking about," Joanna replied haughtily.

  "I'm talking about this little game of hide-and-seek we've been playing all day. What the hell was that all about?"

  "I'm not playing a game."

  "Then what do you call it?"

  "I told you, I had a headache."

  Sean's one word reply was blunt, to the point and crude.

  Joanna sucked in her breath. "All right! That's it!" she huffed. "Just get out. This discussion is over."

  Spinning around on her heel, she started to march toward the bedroom, but Sean grabbed her wrist and whirled her back. Momentum sent her stumbling forward until she collided with his chest. Sean's arms encircled her, and he thrust his furious face so close to hers their noses were almost touching.

  "That's what you think," he growled. "You're not going anywhere, Joanna, until I have some answers. Last night we became lovers, and this morning you pull a disappearing act and now you're giving me the deep freeze treatment. I want to know why!"

  Joanna braced her forearms against his chest and strained to break his hold, but she only succeeded in bringing their lower bodies into even closer contact. Though Sean's face remained stern the glint in his eye told her he was aware of the intimacy and enjoying it. After the miserable day she'd had, that was the final straw. Joanna's temper shot up like a Roman candle on July Fourth.

  "All right! I'll tell you why," she all but shouted. "I decided that I don't want to be a substitute for another woman, that's why!"

  "Another... Substi... What the hell are you ranting about? What other woman?"

  "My mother, that's who."

  Sean's arms fell away from her, and he took a couple of staggering steps backward. Mouth agape, he stared at her in blank shock. Then, to Joanna's utter astonishment, he threw back his head and roared with laughter.

  Chapter Eleven

  "Don't you dare laugh at me, Sean Fleming!"

  "I ca... I ca-can't... help it," Sean choked out between the deep, rumbling guffaws.

  Joanna was torn between anger and hurt, but anger soon won out. She blinked furiously to keep the tears at bay, and stuck her chin out at a,pugnacious angle, though it still quivered uncontrollably. "There's nothing funny about this situation."

  Finally, either her irate tone or the wounded look on her face got through to Sean. With a struggle, he managed to control his mirth, but remnants, of it were still visible in his twinkling eyes and twitching mouth. " You are what's funny, sweetheart. Good grief, Joanna, where on earth did you get the idea that I'm in love with Claire?"

  "From you."

  "Me!"

  "Yes. You admitted as much this morning. When we were talking about how strange it was that Matt and Mother fell in love, after knowing each other for years, you said that you had come very close to falling in love with her yourself."

  "So, because of that innocent comment, you think that I've been carrying a torch for Claire all this time?" The amusement faded from Sean's face, and a tiny frown tugged between his brows. A hint of sadness touched his expression. "And because I couldn't have her, I settled for you, is that it? You actually think I'm the type of man who would do that?"

  Joanna wilted and heaved a dispirited little sigh as some of the fight went out of her. "Oh, not consciously," she said, with a forlorn twitch of her mouth. "But unrequited love can drive us to do strange things. I ought to know. I followed you on this cruise on the flimsiest of excuses."

  Leaning back against one of the leather easy chairs, Sean crossed his arms over his chest and smiled crookedly. "So, you admit to that now, do you? And do you realize that you've as much as admitted that you're in love with me, and have been for a while?" Sean tipped his head to the side and cocked one brow. "Did you have a crush on me four years ago, Joanna? Was I too blind to notice?"

  "Sean, please, don't tease me," Joanna pleaded, giving him a desperate look and blinking against a fresh rush of tears. "Not now."

  "Ah, sweetheart, don't cry." Sean crossed the space between them and took her hands. As he searched her unhappy face his expression was a mixture of tenderness and exasperation. "Joanna listen to me. I am not in love with Claire. Almost falling in love is one heck of a long way from actually falling in love."

  "But you were attracted to her, weren't you?" Joanna wanted to kick herself for asking. It was like probing a sore tooth with your tongue: you knew it was going to hurt but you couldn't resist doing it.

  Sean sighed heavily. "Yes, I was. Claire is one heck of a woman. And yes, I'll admit that things had been different, if there hadn't been Matt, and your mother had been attracted to me, it might have happened. But, darling, those are all very big if's. I haven't been pining away from unrequited love for the past four years. It never went that far. The truth is, I'm glad things turned out as they did. Matt is my best friend, and your mother runs a close second. I'm happy for them."

  Catching her bottom lip between her teeth, Joanna looked at him worriedly: A lingering trace of doubt mingled with the hope and longing in her hazel eyes. "Are you sure?"

  "Positive."

  Sean raised his hand and traced the elegant line of her cheek and jaw. Then he threaded his fingertips through the silky hair at her temple. His thumb skated lightly back and forth over the tiny mole at the corner of her mouth. "Oh, Joanna, you goose. I can't believe you've put us through this miserable day over that one offhand remark. After what we shared last night, how could you possibly think that I was in love with another woman?"

  Covering his hand with hers, Joanna pressed her cheek against his palm and closed her eyes wearily. "I don't know. I... I guess I still can't quite believe that this is happening. Us, I mean. I suppose, deep down, it seems too good to be true, and I keep expecting something to go wrong."

  Sean felt his heart constrict. An overwhelming tenderness gripped him
as he studied the fragile beauty of her face, the delicate sweep of dark lashes against pale skin. Lord, she was so sweet, so guileless. He couldn't remember ever feeling such a strong desire to protect a woman, to cherish, to claim her for his own.

  Sean slipped his thumb beneath her chin and tipped her head up. "Joanna, look at me," he commanded, and Joanna's lids drifted open. She gazed up at him with soft, luminous eyes filled with love, and he felt as though his insides were melting. "There is only you," he said in a soft, rough whisper. "There will be only you. Here, on this ship, and when we return home to Washington. You're the only woman I need. The only one I want."

  It was more of a commitment than he had ever made before, but strangely, with this woman, it just wasn't enough. He wanted more. Wanted to give more. "Joanna, I..." He hesitated, his chest aching with a yearning pressure as he stared down at her. She was waiting, watching him with her heart in her eyes, and suddenly his own widened. "I love you." He said the words slowly, as though stunned by the discovery, his face blank with amazement.

  And then, softer, surer, in a voice deepened by awe, "I love you."

  Joanna sucked in her breath. For a timeless moment she stared up at him, her eyes slowly filling with tears. "Oh, Sean," she choked out unsteadily through quivering lips. "Do you mean that? Please don't say it unless it's true. I—"

  "Shhh. Shhh, sweetheart." He placed his fingers over her mouth to stop the anguished flow of words and looked at her tenderly. "I mean it. It took me by surprise, but I do love you, Joanna. Very much."

  "Oh, Sean." She struggled valiantly to contain the tumultuous storm of emotion that buffeted her, but it was impossible. Her mouth and chin wobbled as tears spilled over and trickled down her cheeks, and with a joyous little cry she flung herself against him, burying her face against his chest and wrapping her arms tightly around his lean middle.

  Sean held her close and rocked her gently. With a tender smile, he rubbed his chin against the top of her head as she laughed and cried at the same time. "I'm going to assume that you*re crying for joy. Otherwise my ego is going to take a hell of a beating."