Just stepping outside was enough to make a man want a shower, but bathing was a luxury. Even then, Everest hadn’t truly felt clean until he’d been home for a while. Weeks after his return he’d still been sloughing off grains of sand, little reminders of his tour. Of course, it hadn’t helped he’d spent so much time in a hospital bed. Sponge baths were no match for all the layers of desert funk he’d accrued during his tour.
That first real shower, though? Heaven. He could still feel the warm rivulets of water cascading over his shoulders, down his chest and back. It had been so damn amazing to feel clean again, it was almost enough to make him forget about his leg. Or rather, the missing parts of his leg. The strangest part of all was that he had felt the water on the soles of his feet—both of them. In fact, if he’d kept his eyes closed, he’d been able to feel the shower spray on both legs, not just the one he still had. He mentioned it to the doctor, and the man had nodded knowingly, a small, sad smile on his face.
“It’s a phantom sensation,” he’d explained. “We don’t know why it happens, but it’s not uncommon for amputees to still feel their missing limb.”
The pain had come later, a wrenching, bone-crushing sensation that nearly took his breath away. Even now, he still wasn’t used to the intensity of the sensation, or the incongruity of it. How could the ghost of a limb cause so much agony? More important, why did his brain insist on betraying him like that?
Fortunately, the attacks of phantom pain had grown less frequent over the years. Physical therapy had helped, as had the prosthetic legs he’d used. His limb felt somewhat whole again when he wore the prosthesis, and apparently that was enough to convince his brain that things were working as they should. It had been a long, hard road to reclaim his mobility, but he wasn’t going to dwell on the past. He’d left the desert behind, and he had no desire to go back. He much preferred the beach sand he encountered now while working on a cruise ship.
The glass door of the gym swung wide, and a curvy redhead walked in, pulling up short when she saw him. She clearly hadn’t expected to find anyone here, and he noticed the brief flicker of alarm that passed over her face, there and gone in an instant. Interesting, he mused. What was she afraid of?
Everest nodded at her and tried for a friendly smile. She gave him a guarded wave and headed for the treadmill at the far end of the row. He watched from the corner of his eye as she hopped on and began to warm up, her stride graceful as she moved.
Who was she? As head of security, he made it a point to know all the staff on the ship, even if only on a superficial level. Since this was the Abigail Adams’s maiden voyage, most of the crew was new to him, which meant he had a lot of catching up to do. He would meet everyone, though. He always did.
He slowed his pace as the woman ramped up hers, her footsteps beating out a steady cadence on the tread of the machine. After a few moments of cooldown, he stepped off the elliptical and fought the urge to bend down and rub his leg. He didn’t like people to know about his injury or prosthesis.
Especially not beautiful women.
Even though she was at the opposite end of the row of equipment, Everest could feel her eyes on him as he wiped his face and gathered his water bottle and keys. She reminded him of a cat his family had owned when he’d been a kid. Mittens had spent hours lying in the windowsill, his eyes trained on the birds and squirrels that frequented the backyard feeder. He’d never once lunged or swiped at any of the critters, but he’d known where every visitor was located. Everest got the sense now that this woman was taking his measure in much the same way. He stood a little straighter, his ego demanding he put his best foot forward.
Or his real foot, as it were.
She didn’t try to hide the fact she was watching him. In his experience most women played it coy, glancing away when he met their eyes. Not this one. She kept staring at him, her expression open but with a hint of wariness, like she was trying to assess what he might do. Her eyes widened when he started walking toward her, but she didn’t miss a step.
He stopped in front of her treadmill and placed his right shoe on the engine cover, easing his weight onto his left leg. He glanced down to see if his prosthesis was exposed, but the fabric of his pants kept it hidden. Good.
“Hello.” He raised his voice, hoping it was audible above the noise of her workout.
“Hi.” She didn’t sound thrilled at his interruption, which was an understandable reaction. He’d just have to make it quick, and perhaps he’d get a chance to have a longer conversation with her another time.
“My name is Everest LeBeau. I’m the head of security on the ship, and I wanted to introduce myself, as I don’t remember meeting you.”
She relaxed as he spoke, the fine lines of strain around her eyes and mouth softening as she realized he wasn’t there to bother her. “I’m Mallory Watkins,” she offered. “Ship’s doctor.”
“Nice to meet you,” he replied. He studied her face for a moment, committing her features to memory. It wasn’t a hardship—she was a beautiful woman. Pale skin, auburn hair, dark brown eyes. Not to mention killer cheekbones, accented by the ponytail she wore now. It bounced playfully with every step she took, at odds with her serious expression. She had a kind of girl-next-door quality about her that he found appealing. In another time, she was just the kind of woman he would have wanted to date.
Now? Not a chance. Not only was he still finding his way back to himself again after the injury, but he wasn’t about to mix business with pleasure.
“I won’t bother you any longer,” he said, stepping back. “Enjoy your workout.”
“Thanks,” she replied.
He started to walk away but stopped and turned back after a few steps. “If you don’t mind, I’d like to drop by the sick bay later today. Will you be there?”
“Yes,” she said, a little breathless from her run. He could see the questions in her eyes, but she didn’t say anything else.
“Great. I’ll see you then.”
What are you doing? he chided himself as he headed for the door. He didn’t need to see her again—now that he’d met her, he’d recognize her. It wasn’t like he had any business with her.
But there was something about the way she watched him that piqued his curiosity. Even now, he felt the weight of her gaze as she tracked his movement toward the exit. It wasn’t lust that kept her eyes glued to him; there was no heat in her gaze. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was afraid. But why? Was she trying to hide something?
Mallory Watkins was a woman who had secrets, that much was clear. And despite his better judgment, Everest wanted to know more.
Mallory sat at the bar, her eyes glued to the entrance in the hopes of catching sight of Avery and Olivia. They were supposed to meet here at noon, but she was so excited to see them she’d arrived a little early.
“Can I get you anything?”
She smiled absently at the offer from the bartender. Technically, she was on the clock, which meant she couldn’t drink anything stronger than tea. “Coke, please.”
He nodded, and she turned her focus to watching him select a glass and prepare her drink. Ever since the attack in college, she’d been vigilant about keeping her drinks in sight at all times, lest someone try to slip her something again. The logical part of her knew the odds of her being drugged twice were infinitesimally low, but it was a chance she didn’t want to take. Fool me once, shame on you, she thought. Fool me twice...
The bartender slid her drink across the polished wood surface with a smile. She dug in her pocket for some cash, but he held up his hand. “No charge,” he said, nodding at her ID badge.
“Thanks,” Mallory replied. She slipped a bill into his tip jar and turned back to the door,