railing. Unfortunately, her laptop bag had gotten wedged between the rungs of the railing and toppled her back. She unhooked the bag and launched herself from the banister. No, she certainly couldn’t pull off what Safire could.
Had he seen her fumble? Embarrassed, she looked toward the warm brown eyes, but the face that held them was directed elsewhere. Well, she was no Safire. She didn’t know what had gotten into her in the first place.
She walked to the elevator, pulled out her key and went to find her cabin.
Angelina’s stateroom had everything she would have expected and more, including a balcony on the water. And luckily, she wasn’t sharing; she had an oasis all to herself. The first thing on her list was unpacking before dinner, and her suitcase had been delivered so she had only to plop it on the footrest to begin.
The pieces she’d added were on top, so she pulled out a couple of capris, a couple of skirts, a few blouses, a dress and some light tops to go over whatever nonsense Safire had packed for herself. And thank goodness. Safire’s clothes were much as she expected.
There were several cocktail dresses, all low-cut and thigh-high. Angelina couldn’t imagine herself strutting around in them. The shorts were okay, but Safire had packed skimpy tank tops and racerback T-shirts to go with them. The skirts were all mini and the tops were off-the-shoulder blouses or camisoles. Even the nightclothes she’d packed were sheer, midthigh numbers.
No wonder the case was only half-full when Safire brought it. Everything in it was tiny—just as she’d expected. The last piece of clothing she pulled out was Safire’s swimsuit. Such a pity she hadn’t remembered her own. She could ball up Safire’s bikini and make it disappear inside her fist.
Angelina stood in front of the closet taking inventory. She didn’t have enough of her own stuff, so she would have to make do with Safire’s pieces. She might have to get another swimsuit on the ship and perhaps a couple of oversize T-shirts to sleep in.
She hadn’t budgeted for extra clothes—at least not at what they would cost in floating boutiques. The light cover-ups she’d brought would supplement the dresses and tank tops, and she didn’t plan to go to many events, so she should be okay. After all, it was a cruise. She could be a little like her sister for a little while. She probably wouldn’t see anyone here again in life.
This made her think again of those warm brown eyes. What had she been thinking trying to send a signal from across the deck? He probably thought she was a loon. No, he probably wasn’t giving her a second thought at all. He could have been looking at the horizon the whole time. In any case, there were several thousand people on the ship. Chances of running into him again didn’t seem great, a fact that made her feel both disappointed and relieved.
Angelina turned to the rest of the suitcase and her carry-on—her work. She set up her laptop on the table and piled around it the books and papers she’d brought. She also pulled out all the cruise information: the docking schedule, the brochure for singles, coupons for the tours and a spa day, a separate booklet describing the ship’s amenities, pamphlets for events and movies.
The next thing to do was to find a place for dinner; she didn’t want to change, so nothing fancy. She found a café-style restaurant and had a sandwich. Then she went back to her room and called to check in at home. Safire was there, and all was well. She started to tell her sister a thing or two about packing such outrageous clothing, but she gave it a second thought. Safire wasn’t actually packing for her when she’d made those selections, so it didn’t make sense to accuse her of anything willful.
The rest of the evening she was going to lounge on the balcony and read. That, however, didn’t last long. She started Ellory Patterman’s history of the involvement of Black women in the World War I effort, and enjoying the book as she was, she drifted into sleep. Angelina woke up a couple of hours later to find her book on the floor and her neck stretched precariously to one side.
She got up and went into her room to change for bed but had only Safire’s short, silky nightgowns. There was nothing to be done about it right then, so she put one on and crawled into bed. For a few minutes, she watched the cruise ship’s information station on television, but before long, she clicked the television off. It was a little early, but she was tired; she’d been tired for some time, and the luxury of the space let her give in to what she needed most—rest.
If nothing else, she would get to relax a bit over the next nine days. She might even be able to take her sister’s advice and let loose a little. There could be a little Safire in her yet.
She curled up in bed, letting herself sink into the cool, crisp sheets. Perhaps it was the enchantment of being aboard a ship on the way to the Caribbean, or perhaps it was the sumptuous feel of the gown she had on, but she drifted off thinking of a warm pair of brown eyes.
Chapter 2
Jeremy Bell had noticed her before she’d even stepped onto the gangway. She was behind his group in the line to board the ship, and she was gorgeous. He could hardly keep from staring at her and hoped that she was one of the members of the singles cruise. She seemed to be. She didn’t seem to be with any of the people around her.
She had on a casual yellow sundress and strappy sandals with low wooden heels. The dress was simple enough, but it didn’t fully hide the voluptuous curves of her body. When the ocean breeze caught it, he could see the succulent shape of her buttock and the heavy sway of her ripe breasts.
There was something hesitant about her stance, an ongoing inquiry in her expression. She had probably never been on a cruise before. The uncertainty gave her a vulnerable quality that drew his gaze to her even more.
He lost her around a bend, but he was delighted to find that they’d been guided to the same deck for the departure. While he chatted with his friends across the deck, he got a look at her as she hung over the railing, delight and excitement written over her expression.
That, and the way her garment fluttered around her, made his own body react. And he hadn’t even met her yet. He was getting ahead of himself, so he settled against the railing to cool down and enjoy the departure with his friends.
They might tease him for trying to talk to a woman on the first day, but he still intended to go over and introduce himself once they were underway. If he didn’t, he might lose her in the multitude of people aboard the Palace of the Seas.
When he found her looking back at him, he was pleased, but not surprised. He was in his early thirties, and he still had it going on. For a while she looked away, and he was a little concerned. That wasn’t usually the reaction he got from women. He actually sighed in relief when she turned back to him, smiling at him from the banister. That was more like it.
Of course, that was when he lost her. He’d turned to Alistair, who was joking about being the odd man out, and when he turned back she was gone.
He went to three singles functions that night to see if she’d come out to any of them. He took time out to have dinner with his boys—Alistair, Myron and Rudy—at the singles reception in the Senator’s Quarters. Then he ditched them to check out a couple of the smaller singles mixers—the one in the Luau Bar and the one in the Messenger Lounge. He didn’t see her and had no way of knowing if he’d missed her.
If she wasn’t there on the singles cruise, he had no real way to find her again. There were thousands of people on the ship. That’s when he remembered the brochure. He pulled it out and rummaged through the pages. Each of them had had to submit a bio and picture for it, and it had come a couple of days before they were set to depart.
Unfortunately, there were dozens of pages of singles listings, and not everyone had sent in a picture. But there weren’t that many African-American women in the lineup, either. He found one that seemed to be her. The picture was small, so he couldn’t be sure. She was wearing a bikini and waving toward shore from the back of a motorboat. Her name was Safire Lewis, and she was twenty-three, hailing from North Miami. The woman he saw seemed to be older than twenty-three, but then women never told the truth on these things anyway. Right?
Safire