Swept away…

…to paradise!

This is a trip of a lifetime for social worker Chanelle Robinson—a chance to relax and embrace the luxury of the cruise liner Aquarius. However, when she encounters its dynamic owner, Vance Kingston, relaxation is the last thing her body craves. As Chanelle struggles to get over her past, Vance must juggle his family business with unexpected feelings for this enchanting beauty. Because if he’s not careful she’ll sail away with his heart…

ROSANNA BATTIGELLI loved Mills & Boon Romances as a teenager, and dreamed of being a romance writer. For a family trip to Italy when she was fifteen, she packed enough Mills & Boons to last the month! Rosanna’s passion for reading and her love of children resulted in a stellar teaching career, with four Best Practice Awards, and she also pursued another passion: writing. She has been published in over a dozen anthologies, and since retiring her dream of being a Mills & Boon writer has come true!

Also by Rosanna Battigelli

Swept Away by the Enigmatic Tycoon

Captivated by Her Italian Boss

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk.

Caribbean Escape with the Tycoon

Rosanna Battigelli

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ISBN: 978-0-008-90333-6

CARIBBEAN ESCAPE WITH THE TYCOON

© 2020 Rosanna Battigelli

Published in Great Britain 2020

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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For my beautiful daughter, Sarah, a strong, shining star.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

About the Author

Booklist

Title Page

Copyright

Note to Readers

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Extract

About the Publisher

CHAPTER ONE

“YOU SIT HERE and don’t move, Adrien,” Chanelle heard a deep voice say at the table across from hers. She had just been looking out at the coast from the deck of the luxury cruise liner Aquarius, a ship she’d never dreamed she’d be a guest on.

“I’ll be right back with something yummy for the both of us,” the man said with a laugh. “I’ll give you a hint: it rhymes with nice dream…”

Chanelle looked up, curious to see the face that matched the voice. But she only saw the back of the man’s head. And below the golden-brown hair that curled at the ends, a firm neck and muscled shoulders that were distractingly discernible under his turquoise shirt. His perfectly fitting black linen trousers emphasized his strong legs.

Before he turned toward the ice cream machine, a young lady passed by wearing a red bikini and a filmy white cover-up that barely covered anything, and gave the man a big smile. She said something to him, and Adrien’s father stopped to talk to her, giving Chanelle a glimpse of his chiseled profile and groomed shadow. And his quirky smile and narrowed eyes.

Chanelle’s stomach muscles contracted involuntarily, and her pulse quickened, followed immediately by a feeling of guilt for her physical reaction to a guy who was married and yet flirted with other women.

Despicable. And practically in front of his child…

Her attention was diverted by the vroom, vroom sounds of the man’s son as he moved his miniature racing car along the table. Adrien was a cute little boy, with bright blue eyes and short, golden brown hair, the same shade as his dad’s. At one point, he backed the car up and let it go. The car skidded off to the far end of the table, and the boy immediately jumped on his chair to reach across to get it. Chanelle turned in alarm toward his father, but he was now concentrating on filling two cones, the woman gone.

Chanelle’s heart skipped a beat. Adrien was so close to the ship railing… What if he took a tumble over the edge? Her heart leaped into her throat when she saw him begin to straighten, and without any further hesitation, she closed the distance between them in two strides and clasped his arm.

“You need to come down—”

“What exactly are you doing?”

Chanelle heard the deep voice directly behind her. Only this time it lacked the light, playful tone he had used with his son. Before she could react, the child had wrenched himself away and was scrambling off the chair and running to his father.

Chanelle turned to face them awkwardly, feeling a flush bloom across her cheeks. The man had set down the cones and was embracing Adrien with one arm while staring at Chanelle, his eyebrows furrowed above icy blue eyes. “Why were you grabbing him?”

Because you weren’t there, making sure your son didn’t end up losing his balance and tipping overboard, Chanelle wanted to retort.

She felt her jaw muscles tensing. “I wasn’t grabbing him.” She looked at the man steadily, willing herself to sound calm and not defensive. “He had jumped up to get his toy car, and I was worried that he’d lose his balance and fall.” She gazed at the boy, whose face was puckering as he looked at his shoes. “Or topple over.”

“He was in no danger. I had my eye on him.” The man’s eyes narrowed, and Chanelle felt as if she were staring at two brilliant blue laser beams.

Your eye was on a red bikini, she wanted to retort. She felt her cheeks fire up as the stormy blue of his eyes intensified.

“I was closer to him than you,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady, “and from where I stood, he looked perilously close to the edge.” Chanelle bit her lip. “Look, I was just trying to protect him. One wrong move and he could have—”

“I get the point,” he said, putting up a hand. His tone lacked its previous gruffness, and his eyes seemed to have softened. “Thank you for your valiant gesture.”

Chanelle’s eyebrows lifted as she stared at the man who was staring down at her. His eyes were a startling turquoise, matching his golf shirt. Gazing at his bronzed features, perfectly shaped lips and a jawline that reminded her of the sculpted perfection of Michelangelo’s David, Chanelle felt an inner jolt. A series of jolts. As her gaze slipped downward, she had the crazy thought that with his looks and build, he should be modeling for a living. The top buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing an inverted triangle of golden-brown hair. When her gaze returned to his face, she started at the piercing intensity of his eyes. She looked away, her cheeks feeling like molten lava. He stepped forward and took his son firmly by the hand. The child lowered his gaze again, aware that his actions had caused concern.

“What is going on here?” A thirty-something young woman with bouncy strawberry-blond hair, and clothes and shoes that screamed designer, approached them and took Adrien protectively by the hand. She threw a concerned look at her husband.

“Nothing to worry about,” he drawled. “I’ll take care of it.”

Chanelle couldn’t help glancing at his left hand. No ring. She almost snorted. No wonder. He obviously preferred to look single… Chanelle’s gaze flew to the petite woman. Did she have any idea that her husband was a playboy?

A rich playboy, from the look of her diamond of at least two carats.

“I’m going to our stateroom. Come on, Adrien,” she said brusquely. She lifted an eyebrow imperiously toward her husband. “Vance?”

“I’ll join you shortly, Mariah,” he said. He released Adrien’s hand.

Chanelle stood by awkwardly as the man’s wife strode past her stiffly, ignoring her completely. When she and her son had disappeared past the automatic glass doors, Chanelle glanced warily at the man. Vance. Nice name. Too bad it didn’t match his character.

He had taken a few steps closer, and his brows were furrowed again. Her nose picked up spicy notes of his cologne. A woodsy and exotic fragrance that reminded her of sandalwood and cedar. Chanelle wondered uneasily if, now that his wife and child were not present, he was about to give her a blast for interfering in their business.

Why hadn’t she minded her own business? The cruise hadn’t even begun, and already she was feeling a surge of anxiety. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for a verbal onslaught.

And then his brows unfurrowed. “Have you considered applying for a job on the ship, watching over the children?” he said with a quirk of a smile, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. “I don’t believe this cruise line comes equipped with a guardian angel.”

Chanelle blinked, distracted by the way the turquoise of his eyes had darkened to lapis and not knowing how or what she should reply. She patted her hair down self-consciously. It had been rather humid in Tampa, and in such conditions, her hair had a tendency to fluff out and get frizzy.

Her emotions at this moment felt just as frizzy, with the unnerving way that he was gazing at her…

“I—I was just trying to prevent a tragedy,” she said, unable to keep the defensiveness out of her voice. She straightened, trying to boost her confidence. She was not going to let this—this womanizer—try to appease her with his charm. How many other women had he referred to as an angel? “And I’m not sorry I interfered,” she added, jutting out her chin.

He stared at her wordlessly for a moment, his eyes narrowing, before shifting his gaze to her engagement ring. His jaw muscles flickered and he seemed lost in thought, and Chanelle had to resist the urge to whip her hand behind her back. Finally he looked up, and pinned her with a curious gaze. “Your fiancé is a helluva lucky guy to have such a caring wife-to-be. He won’t have to worry about your future children, with you protecting them like a lioness.” He gave a husky laugh and then stared at her intensely. “So tell me, since this is a Zodiac cruise, are you a Leo?”

Vance watched the extraordinarily long eyelashes of the woman opposite him flutter over green-hazel eyes that sparkled like gemstones. Her glossy lips parted briefly and then shut, drawing his eyes to their perfect dimensions—not too thin and not too wide. And from having observed her stature as he approached—or more specifically, the way she fit into her white jeans and fuchsia T-shirt—it was obvious she either worked out or was just born lucky. He watched as she ran her fingers through her lustrous auburn hair, the movement sending a hint of her perfume drifting toward him, a candy-like scent of raspberry and plum…

She blinked at him as if his question were the last thing she had expected to hear him say.

What the hell was he doing? He didn’t really want to know her sign, did he? No, of course not.

Vance wished he could take the question back. It was something he might have asked in a more flirtatious situation. And he had no intention of flirting with this lovely but rather overreactive—and engaged—passenger. He shifted as a couple strode past them. He should have followed Mariah back to the stateroom immediately. And now he had to think of an appropriate way to end this—

“Sagittarius.”

She said it defiantly, her green eyes flashing a silent warning.

He had no choice but to continue this now. “Ah…the Archer,” he murmured. “The healer whose intelligence forms a bridge between earth and heaven.” He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. You’re either a nurse or a teacher…or in some kind of caring profession.” He stroked his jaw. “Or I’m completely off the mark and you’re an astrophysicist,” he added with a chuckle.

She wrinkled up her face and rolled her eyes, an attempt—possibly?—to conceal her amusement. A tingling sensation spiraled through him. The dimples that had appeared briefly in her cheeks were charming. Whether he liked it or not, she was igniting feelings that he did not want ignited. He forced himself to come back to earth. “Well, are stars your thing, or what?” he said lightly.

Her lips parted, and she had that look of Why would you even want to know? She gave him a measured glance. “I don’t have time for stargazing,” she retorted, “and my job is much more down-to-earth. With no sparkle or glitter.”

She hesitated for a moment, and her eyes seemed to darken. He caught the slight crease of her forehead before it disappeared.

“I’m a social worker,” she said matter-of-factly. “In child protection.” She took a deep breath, and her eyes seemed to blaze in the late-afternoon sunshine. Her mouth opened slightly as if she were about to say something more but then promptly closed again.

Vance surveyed her flushed cheeks. No wonder she had been so quick to act with Adrien. And he had been too quick to jump to the wrong conclusion, asking her why she was grabbing him… “Protectiveness is in the nature of a Sagittarius,” he said gruffly, nodding.

She didn’t respond, but something flickered in her green eyes before she lowered her gaze.

Vance knew that Adrien hadn’t been in danger, but he could understand that from where she had been sitting, it had looked like Adrien was in a very vulnerable position. And she hadn’t hesitated in reacting…

Something in Vance’s gut told him that if Adrien had tumbled over, this vigilant Sagittarian would have plunged right in after him. He had seen that fierce protectiveness in her eyes as she had quickly reached out to stop him. Vance had no doubt that on the job or not, she saw herself as a champion of children, on constant alert to ensure their safety and well-being.

His gaze shifted again to her hands, where she was unconsciously twiddling her ring.

He felt his jaw tensing. “I should let you get back to your—”

Her head jerked up.

“Fiancé.”

Her eyes shot green sparks at him before dropping to her left hand. “Thank you,” she replied stiffly, her voice sounding far from grateful. She tossed her hair back and turned away.

It was quite the mane, he thought, watching the way the sun made her auburn hair look like copper gold. He had a sudden urge to run his fingers through it. And to talk to her longer, despite the voice in his head urging him not to.

“Hey, there,” he called. He waited until she turned around and then flashed her a smile. “I realize I must have sounded harsh initially,” he said. “I apologize. I’m protective, too, when it comes to family.”

Her eyes widened. For a moment she said nothing and then shook her head dismissively. “No need to apologize. I probably should have minded my own business.”

“Well, allow me to at least apologize for addressing you as ‘Hey, there,’” he said, smiling. “I’m Vance. And I’d like to make it up to you by buying you a drink. What do you say, Miss—?”

She blinked at him wordlessly. When a few seconds had passed and she still had not responded, he frowned. “Is something the matter?” Was he imagining it, or was she giving him a look of disdain?

“I don’t have drinks with married men,” she said coolly. “And I believe you told your wife you’d join her shortly…”

Vance blinked, momentarily confused, but before he could reply and tell her he wasn’t coming on to her, she had turned on her heels and disappeared.

Way to go, Kingston. How obtuse to be offering to buy a guest a drink, given that she was engaged and that she had presumed he was married. From the look on her face, it was obvious that she considered him a creep. Shaking his head, Vance headed inside and pressed the elevator button for the ship’s upper level—Deck Thirteen. He glanced at the time on his phone. The cruise director would soon be announcing the emergency assembly drill. All the passengers would be called to make their way to their assigned deck to undergo the required safety routine in the event of an emergency. And soon after that, the ship would set sail.

He had enough time to have a quick talk with Mariah and Adrien and then relax with a glass of wine at the Mercury Bar on Deck Ten. No, he would head to the bar first. Mariah would probably be wondering what was taking him so long, but until she texted, he was just going to take advantage of having some time to himself.

As the elevator opened on Deck Eight, Vance caught a flash of auburn hair among a group of people walking down the hall. He felt his pulse jack up. And then another flash of fuchsia above snug-fitting white jeans. It was her. He smiled apologetically when he realized that several elderly women were waiting for him to move to the back of the elevator so they could enter.

Moments later, Vance leaned back in a lounging chair in the Mercury Bar, savoring one of the ship’s premium wines. It would kick off his week-long holiday after an intense nine months taking over Zodiac Cruises, his parents’ company. Even though he had initially balked when his mother had mentioned plans for a special cruise to formally hand over the reins of the company to him, Vance was looking forward to finally having some time to unwind.

Nine months ago, the life Vance had known and enjoyed had shattered. His father had had a heart attack after a family dinner. Before he had taken his last breaths, he had managed to tell his family that he loved them.

Vance swallowed hard. The man who had spent so much time away from home—and had relinquished parenting to build his business—had looked at him with piercing clarity for a few moments and rasped, “I’m sorry, son. For everything I said or didn’t say to you. For not being there for you as you were growing up. I… I wanted to build the company for my family. Now I leave it in your hands… Will you take it on, son?”

Vance had felt a sharp twinge in his own chest at his father’s words, and he had instinctively realized that he needed to forgive his father. The wall he had constructed around his heart over the years, brick by brick, had to give. But something had lodged in Vance’s throat, preventing him from expressing any feelings, and when his father passed seconds later, Vance was flooded by guilt that he had not given his father the satisfaction of knowing that he had forgiven him—or at least that he would try to forgive him—and that he would carry on with the company.

That was what his dad had always wanted, to have him working alongside him, learning the ropes and eventually taking over when he decided to retire. But Vance had balked from the beginning, always feeling a disconnect with the man who had barely been around in his youth.

And how could the concrete barrier around his heart even begin to give after decades of reinforcement? His father’s quickly uttered words to him as he approached the end of his life were too little and too late.

Getting involved in the company had been the furthest thing from Vance’s mind. In high school, when his father had urged him—on one of his rare home visits—to do his community service hours at Zodiac Cruises’ headquarters, Vance had declined, preferring to volunteer at a nearby art gallery. His time there had reinforced his interest in the art world, and the sketches he had shown his father to prove his intentions to pursue art at university had met with barely concealed scorn.

“You’ve got to be joking.” His father’s sharp laugh as he had tossed Vance’s scrapbook aside dismissively had struck him as if he had lunged a fist into his chest. Vance still remembered how he had wobbled backward a couple of steps, slack-jawed and speechless.

“Are you telling me you’d rather be a starving artist?” His father’s eyes, resembling gray storm clouds, had bored into Vance. “Don’t be a fool.” And then he had abruptly left, telling his wife that he had lost his appetite and wasn’t going to stay for dinner.

Vance winced at the memory. His father had been harsh with him, but Vance had refused to buckle and eventually graduated with a master of fine arts degree, receiving the highest honors and a substantial monetary prize from the department. His mother had been at his graduation ceremony, and the look of pride in her glistening eyes had moved him, but her effusive words of praise and congratulations could not make up for the fact that his father had not bothered to show up.

Within a few months, a prestigious art gallery in Toronto’s historic Distillery District had hired Vance as assistant curator, and his work there, along with his travels, had kept him quite occupied, with very little time to visit his mother save for the occasional Sunday dinner.

The dinner that had proven to be his father’s last had turned out to be the same as previous occasions—the atmosphere tinged with tension, stilted conversation and a formality that was never present when he was alone with his mother. Seeing his father—whom he had always categorized as tough and uncompromising—reduced to such a vulnerable and conciliatory state had been a shock. His father’s deathbed request had immobilized him, and Vance had barely had time to process the request before his father passed.

Vance took a gulp of wine. He had never wanted to get involved in the family business, but the irony was that after the funeral, Vance had spent every waking moment trying to prove himself worthy of following in his father’s footsteps. For his mother’s sake, he had tried to convince himself repeatedly. He was doing it for her, to keep the business running as smoothly as possible. And maybe to assuage the guilt that had surfaced knowing he hadn’t given his father the satisfaction of a positive response to his last request as he had taken his last breaths.

And to do the job properly, it meant that he had had to temporarily give up the lifestyle he had previously enjoyed, which his father had not approved of. And his job at the art gallery.

It had been too late to make a vow to his father, but not too late for Vance to carry out his promise to himself.

So for the last nine months, Vance had worked twelve-hour days at headquarters in Toronto and had undertaken several cruises, mentored by every department head of Zodiac Cruises. He had been surprised at how much he had enjoyed learning the workings of the business, and he had started to think of ways that he could put his art and history background to good use in the company…

His mother had planned this cruise to officially acknowledge Vance in his new position. “Your father wanted this, remember?” she had reminded him several times when he had claimed that he didn’t have time. “His dream was to pass the reins as president of Zodiac Cruises over to you himself one day…”

Vance felt a fresh stab of grief and the familiar swirl of guilt in his gut. What had he really known about his father’s dreams? His feelings toward his father were so convoluted. He was sure that he had felt every possible emotion when it came to his dad: bitterness, disappointment, abandonment, even hate in his adolescent years. He had never understood the man…a man who had chosen work over family.

What’s done is done, he told himself. He had another drink of his wine and willed the memory of his father’s last moments to vanish. As soon as that image had dissipated, green-hazel eyes flashed in Vance’s memory. Why did his thoughts keep returning to her? For nine months, he had stayed clear of women, focused entirely on the company. He hadn’t agreed to take a break and go on this cruise with the notion of resuming his past lifestyle…

And yet he had impulsively told her he’d like to buy her a drink. What the hell had he been thinking? And he had completely ignored the clear fact that she was engaged. Vance scowled. It was obvious that his playboy habits hadn’t been completely extinguished…

He couldn’t help wondering what her fiancé was like. Did he run his fingers through that blaze of hair? Did it get wild and tangled when they—?

Taking a deep breath, Vance forced the image out of his mind. He should have never agreed to this cruise. It was frivolous, considering the projects that needed his attention back at Zodiac headquarters…

Vance rolled his neck to one side and then the other. Maybe after the emergency drill, he’d relax in his private whirlpool. He felt tense around his shoulders, and the warm jets would be a welcome relief… A bit later on, he’d either order room service for dinner or they could dine at one of the specialty restaurants if Mariah preferred.

And then they would proceed to the Milky Way Theater, where the ship’s troupe of dancers and singers would be performing a medley of songs from the ’60s to the ’80s. Classic hits from iconic singers. It was a great first-night show, and he would be giving a brief welcome to the audience before it started.

And maybe the Sagittarian might not be there to distract him…

CHAPTER TWO

CHANELLE STOOD BY the railing on Deck Eleven, her gaze shifting from the lapping waters of the bay to the magenta-and-gold sunset as the Tampa Bay skyline receded in the distance. She had decided against joining the cruise director and other staff and the probable swarm of guests at the Sail Away party on Deck Twelve after the emergency drill. She wasn’t in the mood to mingle just yet…

Chanelle closed her eyes, letting the repetitive sound of the waves soothe her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft giggle in a far-off corner. Two darkened forms exchanged a kiss and wandered off hand in hand. She sighed. Could she not have picked a holiday where she wouldn’t be reminded at every turn of her failed relationship?

She bit her lip. Much as she had wanted to blame Parker for not being sensitive enough to her work commitments, she had had to face the truth: that she had invested more time and energy in her job and not enough with him.

“I’ve met somebody at the gym…” He had dropped the bombshell seven months ago. And he’d told her he would be back the next day to get his things. Everything but the engagement ring he had given her.

If all had worked out with Parker, she might have been planning her wedding now, or even enjoying her honeymoon…instead of cruising alone, Chanelle mused, taking a deep breath.

But it hadn’t worked out, and she had to admit—if she were to be totally honest—that she was relieved.

Not that she had felt that way at first.

Hurt and feeling betrayed, she had wanted to analyze what had gone wrong with their relationship and had checked out the self-help section of a local bookstore. One title had immediately caught her eye, as Parker had often accused her of being overly sensitive. And soon after delving into the book, Chanelle had discovered that she had many of the traits that the book identified…some that she had been aware of and some—she had realized in wonder—that she had exhibited even in childhood.

She’d also learned things she hadn’t known: that highly sensitive people had nervous systems that were more easily activated by sensory stimuli. Which had explained why certain smells were unbearable, or why intense sunlight or loud music or people could be so jarring…and why her skin couldn’t tolerate certain fabrics. No lace or wool for her! Or most synthetic materials. All this had illuminated her as to why she’d ended up with a skin rash or migraine at times…

Chanelle had learned that highly sensitive people—or HSPs—processed their experiences and feelings with greater depth and emotional intensity.

Given such sensitivities—not only physical, but emotional also—was it any wonder that her line of work had pushed her coping mechanisms to the max? And that Parker hadn’t been able to cope? The book had outlined how challenging it could be for others to understand and empathize with an HSP. It was challenging enough for an HSP to deal with their sensitivities, and relationships could present even greater testing grounds…

Her relationship with Parker hadn’t passed the test. Neither one of them had been solely to blame, though. She had been too focused on her work—there was no denying that—but Parker could have at least been honest with her and broken things off before getting involved with someone else. That would have been the decent thing to do.

And it had been this last thought that had finally convinced Chanelle that Parker hadn’t been the right man for her. After the initial shock and sting of betrayal, Chanelle had accepted the fact that Parker was not the guy she was meant to have a happy-ever-after with.

He had betrayed her trust. She deserved better.

This realization had come before the acknowledgment that she had burned out on her job. And her parents, who were on the other side of the globe on an extended trip to visit relatives in Australia, hadn’t been there to comfort her for either her breakup with Parker or her lingering emotional distress after a traumatic case involving two siblings and their neglectful parents. Meredith, Chanelle’s employer, had kindly advised her to consider a leave even months before this particular case, having observed the classic signs of burnout becoming more prevalent in Chanelle. But Chanelle had insisted she was fine, telling herself that she needed her work more than ever after Parker had left…

She had been wrong, of course. She should have heeded Meredith’s advice from the beginning. Chanelle sighed. After consulting with her doctor, Chanelle had taken a leave, “to be assessed on a regular basis.” This was not a sign of weakness, her doctor had asserted gently, but a step toward ensuring her emotional well-being. Having a job that dealt with the trauma of others required particular diligence in maintaining physical and emotional health and balance in one’s own life.

Enough! Chanelle was tired of thinking of the circumstances that had brought her here. And she needed to keep Parker out of her thoughts. She didn’t want him on this cruise with her. She was over him.

She had tucked the engagement ring he had left her in her purse months ago and had slipped it on her finger momentarily, wondering what she was going to do with it. And then, before she could put it back in her purse, she had become distracted by the incident with the child and his distracted father.

Perhaps what she really hadn’t gotten over was the fact that another man had dumped her. The first one had been her biological father. Her mother had revealed the story to her when she had felt Chanelle was ready. His name was Trevor, and upon hearing that his girlfriend Katie—Chanelle’s mother—was pregnant, he had promptly broken up with her, claiming the baby wasn’t his. He had accepted a job out of town right after college graduation and never returned, leaving Katie heartbroken. Fortunately, Chanelle’s grandparents hadn’t abandoned Katie, and Chanelle had grown up missing a father in her formative years, but living with a set of grandparents who cherished her.

She had just turned twelve when her mother married a furniture dealer called Martin, and although Chanelle had initially been reluctant to trust him—there had been a couple of men Katie had dated before him who had caused Chanelle some anxiety—Martin’s easy and joking manner and obvious devotion to her mother eventually won her over. Chanelle’s faith in men had been temporarily restored, but now she had to admit to herself that Parker’s decision to break up had stirred up a flurry of latent feelings that could be associated with her father’s rejection of her. Her social work and psychology studies had not been for nothing, she thought, her mood darkening as she watched the swirling waters from the deck.

Two men had abandoned her. One, her father, who hadn’t even wanted to acknowledge that he’d had anything to do with her conception. Who had chosen to run away from his responsibilities to her and her mother. And Parker, who had left her for another woman. Both had run away from the promise of what was to come—the birth of a baby and the birth of a marriage, respectively. Neither the baby nor the marriage had been given a chance…

Chanelle’s work had helped take her mind off the latter. She had pushed herself to the limit, convincing herself that the children she was protecting, or rescuing from a parent or parents who were unfit, depended on her. And she had no intention of abandoning them.

She had tried to be a superwoman, she realized, and had driven herself into a state of burnout. And she was having a hard time coming to terms with not being able to do her job.

Who am I? She shook her head and gripped the deck railing. Her job had been everything to her. What do I do now?

Chanelle squeezed her eyes tightly at the prickly sensation behind her lids but wasn’t able to stop a few tears from slipping down her cheeks.

“Hey, there…”

Chanelle didn’t need to make the quarter turn to see who the approaching footsteps belonged to.

The distracted father/playboy.

“I can’t have anyone on my ship looking so sad.” He stopped a couple of feet away from her.

Had she heard correctly? My ship? No, it couldn’t be…

Chanelle quickly wiped her eyes. How embarrassing that he had seen her in such a state. She looked beyond him, expecting to see his wife.

“Has something happened on board to upset you?”

Why did he care? And what could she possibly tell him?

“I—I’m okay,” she managed, her voice wavering.

His eyes swooped down on her and narrowed. “No, you’re not.”

She stared at him, startled by his directness. Something thudded in her chest. “It’s not something I feel comfortable discussing with—”

“A total stranger?” He raised an eyebrow. “Look, you don’t need to discuss anything with me. But now that I’m here, I’d like to set the record straight.” He took a step closer. “I wasn’t trying to come on to you earlier…and seeing someone in tears on a cruise concerns me.”

Chanelle looked beyond him again, the butterflies in her stomach rising in a swirl. What would his wife think if she suddenly showed up? She took a step back. “I appreciate your concern, but you don’t need to worry about me.” Actually, she didn’t appreciate his concern, but the words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

“The expression on your face worried me.” He rested an arm on the railing and glanced at the water before meeting her gaze again. “It was more than sad—it was almost a look of desperation.”

Chanelle’s eyes widened as his words hit her. Hard. “You thought I was going to…” She glanced at the black depths of the bay. She had been momentarily sad, yes, but desperate, no. No.

“I would have stopped you,” he said huskily. “Or dived in after you, new suit and all.”

“You wouldn’t have had to.” She held up her chin defiantly, trying to prevent herself from gazing at him from the neck down.

His piercing blue eyes had a hawklike intensity, as if he were trying to determine if she was lying. “Good to know.” His brow smoothed out. And then his eyes narrowed again. “I don’t mean to pry, but if there is a problem between you and your…” He glanced at her ring finger.

It suddenly hit her. He had noticed her engagement ring during their first encounter…

His words struck a nerve. Chanelle bristled. Was this…this Romeo…actually implying that she was having issues with her fiancé? What business did he have to butt into her life? She felt an inner heat surge through her veins and upward into her cheeks.

“Look, I hate to be blunt, but I don’t appreciate you trying to find out if there is a problem in my relationship. It’s really none of your business.” She felt her cheeks tingle. Usually the precursor to their becoming flaming red. “And if you don’t mean to pry, then don’t.”

“Touché. I apologize, Miss…or Ms….”

She threw him an incredulous glance. Did he not realize that she didn’t want to keep talking to him? He just raised his eyebrows and looked as unruffled as she was ruffled. It didn’t help that a portion of her brain was registering how good-looking he was in his charcoal-gray suit and salmon-colored shirt and black tie. She heard herself sigh in frustration.

“Chanelle.” There! Now maybe he’d go away and leave her alone.

He opened his mouth to respond but closed it when his cell phone buzzed. He retrieved it from his pocket to glance at it. He messaged back and then looked at Chanelle again. She moved away from the railing, and he did the same. Surely he didn’t intend to follow her? She was planning to head over to the Ristorante Mezza Luna for dinner, having made reservations at this specialty restaurant when she had booked her cruise, deciding that she deserved to pamper herself.

And after this double encounter with this playboy, Chanelle was anxious to start relaxing. She nodded dismissively and walked toward the glass doors, deciding to freshen up in her stateroom before heading to the restaurant. She saw his reflection and felt her stomach muscles tighten. Inside, the lights of the chandeliers made her blink.

She headed to the elevator, and when she turned, her heart jolted. Vance was striding toward her, but his phone buzzed again and he slowed down to glance at it. Chanelle hurried into the elevator, but before the door closed, she saw him glance up and across at her, his eyes glittering like the chandelier crystals above his head.

Mariah had texted Vance the first time to say that she was almost ready. He had laughed inwardly. His sister’s sense of time was faulty at best. “Almost ready” could mean “I need another half hour.” But she had surprised him with her second text that she was in the restaurant and had already ordered them drinks.

Vance had messaged her that he needed a few extra minutes.

He glanced at the closed elevator doors before striding over to a recliner near a lounging nook and thought about what had just happened with Chanelle.

Chanelle… What a soft, feminine name. A name fit for an angel, except that there had been nothing angelic about the look she had flung at him.

Why had she appeared so dejected when he had first spotted her? His heart had begun to thump against his rib cage when he had seen her gripping the railing in that isolated corner of the deck… And at the sight of the tears glistening on her cheeks, the thump had turned into a hammer. He had been ready to leap toward her, and then she had turned to look at him…

Relief had swirled through him like an electric current. He had wanted to wrap his arms around her—an irrational impulse, considering he didn’t know her, but he couldn’t deny that he had felt a surge of protectiveness that had stunned him.

He had immediately noticed that she wasn’t wearing her ring, which was why he had presumed that she and her fiancé had had some kind of disagreement, or maybe even a fight. No wonder she was sad, especially if she was having problems in her relationship. Had she ended the engagement? Had he? Vance’s jaw tensed at the thought that Chanelle’s ex-fiancé might have cheated on her. Maybe that was why she seemed so irritated with him. Maybe she was projecting her anger and hurt on him or any other male who crossed her path or even looked at her the wrong way…

But why was this Chanelle taking up so much space in his thoughts? He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then relaxed them. Tensed his shoulders, then let go. He did this a few times, and after a few deep breaths, he opened his eyes.

Vance checked the time and sprang to his feet. He had kept Mariah waiting far too long. At the entrance of the Ristorante Mezza Luna, the maître d’ greeted him and led him to a far table, where Mariah was already enjoying a glass of white wine and a plate of cheeses and spiced olives. “Sorry I’m late, sis,” he said with a rueful smile. He sat down, and after the waiter had filled his glass, he explained what had happened earlier with Chanelle, reassuring Mariah that Adrien had never been in danger. “How is the little munchkin?”

“Adrien’s having room service with Mom, then they’re going to watch a movie and go to bed early,” Mariah said.

Vance nodded and took a drink of his wine.

“Don’t look now, Vance!” Mariah lowered her voice to a whisper. “There’s the lady who couldn’t mind her own business.”

Vance set down his wineglass and tried to ignore the skip of his heart beat. “Mariah, I told you, she was just worried—”

“Okay, okay. I can’t fault her for that, Sir Vancelot.” She chuckled as he rolled his eyes at her childhood nickname for him.

Vance turned casually. Chanelle hadn’t spotted him. She was smiling brightly at the maître d’ and nodding. She had changed from casual wear to a long magenta skirt with a shimmer of sequins along its flaring hem and a body-hugging black top that accentuated her slender neck and feminine curves. The maître d’ led her directly toward the table next to his and Mariah’s.

Mariah’s phone rang, and Vance could hear that it was his mother’s voice on the other end.

Chanelle suddenly stopped walking. Vance met her incredulous gaze. He held up his glass and nodded with a polite smile. It was obvious from the rosy hue of her cheeks that she was flustered to be seated so close to him. And Mariah.

Chanelle gave a brief nod and looked away, focusing on what the maître d’ was telling her about the wine selections. She murmured her choice, and he nodded. “Certainly, Miss Robinson.”

Vance didn’t know if it was the wine or the discovery of Chanelle’s last name that ignited a shiver of heat inside him. He said it under his breath. Chanelle Robinson. He liked the way it sounded. Soft. Silky. Just like that mane of hair tumbling over her shoulders.

The next time his glance coincided with Chanelle’s, he flashed a smile and nodded. Her eyes fluttered briefly, and she responded with a nod that made him think of a robin giving a tentative peck at the grass. Her cheeks were now almost as red as a robin’s breast, and the way her arms lifted and then dropped helplessly made it clear to him that if she could fly away, she would.

“Mom says Adrien feels a little warm. Probably too much excitement today,” she murmured, arching her eyebrows in Chanelle’s direction. “I’m going to check on him. If he’s okay, I’ll meet you in the theater.”

Vance stood up and met Chanelle’s eyes. Even in the dimmed lighting of the restaurant, they were stunning, their green-hazel depths looking like a mystical pool from an enchanted land.

“I hope you’re enjoying Mezza Luna’s fine offerings, Miss—Chanelle,” he said as they approached her table. He gave her a casual smile. “Oh, and please allow me to introduce you. Chanelle Robinson, this is Mariah Kingston…my sister.”

CHAPTER THREE

CHANELLE STRUGGLED TO keep her surprise in check. His sister? And how did he know her last name? Oh, yes, the maître d’ had said it…

Feeling awkward at the realization that she was just blinking back at him, Chanelle turned and offered a tentative smile to his sister.

Mariah held out her elegantly manicured hand. “Nice to meet you. Again.” She blew her brother a kiss. “I’m going to go and check on Mom and Adrien and then head to the Milky Way Theater. See you in a bit, Sir Vancelot.”

Chanelle watched her leave, a petite swirl of pink silk and ivory linen above shapely legs and stiletto heels that Chanelle wouldn’t hazard to wear. When she had walked into the restaurant and had caught sight of Mariah sitting across from Vance, something in Chanelle’s chest had deflated, and she had considered making an excuse to the maître d’ and filing out of the restaurant. The last thing Chanelle had counted on was bumping into the both of them so soon after the earlier incident…

Discovering that the lady he was with was his sister and not his wife had caused a thumping against her rib cage that almost made her look down at her chest self-consciously.

Vance put his hand on the chair opposite her. “May I?” he said, his blue eyes appearing more like indigo in the muted light of the restaurant.

“Um…” She glanced from him to the waiter. “Okay,” she replied slowly, irritated both by his question and by the way her pulse had spiked.

How could she tell him, with the waiter standing right there, that she had been looking forward to a quiet dinner?

Despite feeling flustered, Chanelle couldn’t help thinking how drop-dead gorgeous he looked in his gray suit with the salmon-colored shirt making a striking contrast with the extraordinary purple-blue of his eyes. They reminded her of the rich hue of the delphiniums in her summer garden.

“Will you be joining Miss Robinson for a glass of white wine, sir?” the waiter asked Vance, naming the vintage she had selected.

Vance nodded his approval. “I could tell you were a woman of good taste,” he said, flashing Chanelle a smile. “May I join you?”

Chanelle hesitated before giving a curt nod.

Vance turned his gaze back to the waiter. “Put it on my tab, Luciano.”

Chanelle gazed from one to the other and opened her mouth to protest, but Vance put up his hand firmly. “That wasn’t necessary, Mr….Vance,” she said when the waiter had left.

“No it wasn’t, Miss Chanelle.” He leaned forward. “It’s just my way of thanking you for looking out for Adrien.”

Chanelle frowned. “You weren’t too pleased about me getting involved earlier.”

He clasped his hands under his chin and gazed at her squarely. “I admit I may have overreacted.” His eyes glinted. “I’m sorry. Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?”

Chanelle was at a loss for words. From the slightly amused tone of his voice, she didn’t know whether he was being genuine or mocking her. And at the same time, she was trying to process the fact that he wasn’t married after all, that Adrien was his nephew, and that his earlier offer of buying her a drink wasn’t the act of an unfaithful womanizer.

Which meant that she had overreacted as well.

So maybe you should apologize, too, her inner voice suggested. And if this hunk wants to treat you, let him! You have a choice—you can tell him to take a flying leap, or let him spend his money on you… Live a little! And if he flirts with you, give it back to him. You’ve forgotten how to have fun, girl!

As she framed some words of apology in her mind, the waiter reappeared with the wine. Vance tasted and approved a sample and nodded for the waiter to fill their two glasses. He held his glass up and waited for Chanelle to clink hers with his, but she ignored his cue and went ahead and took a sip.

“Mmm…” Chanelle closed her eyes momentarily, unable to control a little shiver. She was entering into unknown waters, she warned herself. She felt her nerve endings tingle and realized she could either take this opportunity to enjoy the cruise, or leave it…

The excitement stirring in her stomach gave her the answer. She wasn’t going to mope around anymore. She was going to loosen up a little. She had always been too serious growing up and had proceeded with caution in every aspect of her life, even when she had left home. Chanelle breathed in deeply, her chest expanding, and she felt like a Sagittarian warrior, ready to rise up to anything or anyone. Especially one like the Dionysus sitting across from her, twirling his wineglass with a gleam in his bewitching blue eyes.

Vance looked at Chanelle as the waiter asked her if she had decided on her entrée. She chose a seafood risotto, and Vance decided to order the same for himself. “Excellent choice, Chanelle. It’s one of my favorites,” he said after the waiter had left. Chanelle paused, her eyes widening as if she had just realized that he was not going to be leaving after he finished his wine. And the slight flutter of those long lashes made him wonder how she was feeling about that…

“This is even better than the wine I had in my room.” Chanelle’s words came out in a rush. “And I thought that one was superb. I must say I’m impressed with the perks on this cruise. The complimentary gift basket was such a lovely surprise, with the scrumptious chocolates and all those other goodies.” She flashed him a smile before taking another generous sip of wine, her eyes a combination of amber and emerald as they blinked at him above the rim of her glass.

Vance certainly hadn’t expected this…this about-face. But then maybe Chanelle was trying to drown her sorrows, the sorrows of a broken relationship…

“Cheers, Sir Vancelot,” she said with a tinkling laugh as she raised her glass and cocked her head at him, her hair cascading down like a shimmering curtain. His heart did a flip, and he had to stop himself from extending his hand to let her rest her head against it.

Vance gazed at Chanelle’s flushed cheeks and long eyelashes. He had no illusions that they were fluttering for his benefit, yet he couldn’t help being mesmerized by their languorous movements, allowing him glimpses of the heady hazel depths of her eyes.

He coughed, and feigned a frown. “Now don’t you go calling me by that silly name, Chanelle. My sister likes to torment me occasionally with it, with maybe just a little less frequency than when we were kids and playing with my medieval castle.” His eyes narrowed. “I’m neither a sir nor a chivalrous knight.”

Chanelle gave him a shy smile that made his stomach muscles contract. “You were ready to rescue me earlier… That proves you’re chivalrous.” She averted her gaze to help herself to an olive and immediately exclaimed at its spiciness. She ran her tongue over her lips and fanned them with her hand.

As Vance watched her mouth, a spiral of heat flicked throughout his body. The waiter set down their plates, and after thanking him, Chanelle gave a self-conscious shrug and dug into her risotto. Vance suppressed a smile. It was refreshing to see a woman enjoy food, unlike a couple of the willowy high-fashion models he had dated who had pretended to be happy with a few pieces of lettuce and a couple of carrot sticks.

“Are you a pescatarian?” he wondered aloud.

“No. I just stay away from red meat.”

“So no bacon for you.”

“I’m into baking, not bacon.” She laughed, lifting her wineglass to her lips.

He grinned. “Since you’ve ventured into the world of puns, perhaps you should consider a job in comedy…”

The humor suddenly disappeared from Chanelle’s face. Her eyelids fluttered briefly, and she stared down at her plate. He saw her jaw muscles flexing. When she looked back up, her eyes were glistening.

Vance set down his glass. “I’m sorry, Chanelle. Did I say something wrong?”

She put her fork down. “No, I’m… I’m…” She shook her head. “I’m just a little down about my job.” She cocked her head at him as if she were trying to ascertain whether she could trust him to tell him more.

“It’s a tough job,” he said gently. “Dealing with vulnerable children and harsh situations day in and day out. I can only imagine—”

“I thought I would last longer than this…”

“You left?”

“I’m on a leave. Burnout.” She sighed. “I love kids, I love seeing bad situations turn out for the better, but it hasn’t always worked out that way…and it has affected me off the job as well.”

“You’re only human.” He controlled his impulse to reach out and tap her reassuringly on her arm. “It’s obvious you care, and with your background, it’s no wonder you were alarmed when you saw Adrien on that chair. Your devotion to children is admirable,” he added softly.

“I’m too devoted, according to my fiancé.” She bit her lower lip and leaned back. “I mean my ex-fiancé. He broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he murmured. “You’ve been through a lot.”

“I have to take some of the responsibility,” she said, her mouth twisting. “I spent too much time working.”

And her fiancé hadn’t liked it.

Vance watched as Chanelle slumped forward, her chin resting in one hand. Her earlier levity was gone, and he suspected the wine might have had something to do with her shift in emotions. He couldn’t imagine her spilling all this personal stuff to him otherwise.

He glanced at his watch and sprang out of his seat. “I’m sorry to cut this short, Chanelle, but I have to be somewhere else. Five minutes ago, actually,” he added ruefully. “I’ll let you enjoy your dessert in peace. By the way, will you be catching the opening night’s performance in the Milky Way Theater?”

“I—I…maybe,” she said cautiously before picking up her fork again to dig into her risotto.

“Okay then,” he said slowly, nodding. “Maybe I’ll see you there. Arrivederci.”

Vance glanced at her left hand. He was about to add something and then decided against it. Feeling a strange tug in his stomach muscles, he rose and left.

Vance sprinted toward the theater. He had been totally absorbed—distracted—with Chanelle Robinson. Thank goodness he had looked at his watch or he would have been inexcusably late, missing his cue to address the guests on this special cruise.

In five minutes, the cruise director would be welcoming the crowd, then he’d be introducing him, and Vance would share the reason he and his family were on board the Aquarius. They had decided to keep it from the media and had simply wanted to have a relatively small celebration of Vance’s official position as president. They had decided on a five-day cruise just to relax, mingle with their invited guests—who had promised to keep the event under wraps—and have a gala evening midweek, when Vance’s mother would announce her retirement and formally pass over the business to Vance.

The uninvited guests were in for a surprise, for the gala would be open to them also, in appreciation for their patronage and, for some, their loyalty in returning to Zodiac Cruises for a holiday. In fact, what seemed to be trending was for Zodiac faithfuls to book a different Zodiac ship each time they cruised. Vance had already met a group of nine forty-something women who had already cruised on four of the ships in the fleet. They had been friends since high school, and although they didn’t all live in the same town, they reunited every year for their one-week cruise.

Vance had smiled at them earlier in the lobby of the art gallery. As he had strolled by, he had heard one of them whisper, “He doesn’t have a ring. He must be unattached…” And one of her friends had chortled. “Lucky gal who gets to attach themselves to that. I’ll be having sweet dreams tonight…and of course, I’ll be the lucky gal.” And at the resounding laughter, he had stifled a chuckle and had gone to chat with the art rep.

Now, entering the slightly dimmed theater, Vance looked around. Spotting Mariah, he made his way to the third row in the orchestra section. Mariah smiled at him and continued checking her messages on her cell phone. Vance sat back and thought about what the ladies had said.

“He must be unattached.”

Well, they were right. For the most part. At the moment he was not seeing anyone. His last relationship had fizzled out after his father had died. Brianna was a wealthy socialite his mother had invited over one night, someone she had thought might be a good match for Vance. They had seen each other for several months, but Vance hadn’t been ready for a serious commitment, and Brianna had.

If she had been the right one, wouldn’t he have wanted to settle down?

His mother had hinted more than once—and not too subtly—that perhaps he should start trying to find someone who could become more permanent in his life. He was thirty-four, after all, and didn’t he get tired of dating one beautiful woman after another? Vance smirked at the memory of the comment she had made once—that he changed women as often as he changed cars.

“You’re not getting any younger, son, and neither am I. I don’t expect to have grandchildren when I’m too old to be able to lift them. Or play with them.”

Occasionally she had taken a sterner approach, pinning him with her steel-blue eyes.

“You can’t be a playboy all your life, Vance. It’s time to get serious…serious about settling down.”

Vance had instinctively known that his mother had felt responsible for indulging him and his sister in all ways. They had grown up spoiled and entitled, he had heard her complain to his father, and now they expected that lifestyle to continue.

Especially Vance. At least Mariah had married and blessed her with a grandson. She could be high-maintenance at times, but being a parent had tamed her somewhat. Now Vance, on the other hand…

A week after his mother had voiced her concerns, his father had died. And the lifestyle Vance had known had come abruptly to a halt. There were matters to take care of, both personal and business, and his mother had been too distraught to deal with any of them. It had been left to Vance to make the funeral arrangements and to be the strong shoulder for both his mother and sister.

Brianna had expressed sympathy, but she was used to a certain pace in her life, and she had expected Vance to keep up with her high-profile social events and private parties a few weeks after the funeral.

But the passing of his father had taken the desire for partying right out of Vance. The immensity of his father’s responsibilities and the esteem in which his business associates had held him had made Vance acutely aware that his involvement in the company had been peripheral at best. And when it had been time for the last goodbyes, and his mother, sister, brother-in-law and nephew had walked away, Vance had stayed behind to quietly reiterate the vow he had failed to make to his father before he died.

Soon after, when he had told Brianna about his intentions and that he couldn’t make a firm commitment, Brianna had skipped out of his life.

Vance checked the time on his phone. One minute before the show… He glanced at Mariah and saw that she was texting her husband, who hadn’t been able to join them on the cruise, as he was tending to business in Europe.

Vance glanced around and was pleased to see that the theater was filling quickly. His eyes narrowed as he searched the moving groups for a sign of Chanelle. And then he checked himself.

Why did he even care if she attended the opening or not?

The orchestra started up, and a minute later, cruise director Jake Ross walked out on stage. At his cue, Vance strode to the side door that led to the stage and waited for Jake’s intro. Jake warmed up the audience with his jokes and stories about funny experiences onboard, and when the laughter had subsided, his tone became more serious.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming you to the Aquarius and to our opening night show here in the beautiful Milky Way Theater. You are in for a few surprises this week, starting with the man you are going to meet shortly. He is someone who has taken on the monumental task of leadership of Zodiac Cruises these past nine months since the passing of Mr. Bruce Kingston—Zodiac’s founder and president—proving with his unreserved determination, razor-sharp focus and relentless efforts and inexhaustible energy that he has everything it takes not only to continue in his father’s fine footsteps, but to leap beyond. He will reveal his vision for the company during this cruise, and I am sure that you will be as excited as the staff of the Aquarius and of the entire fleet of Zodiac Cruise ships to hear about his initiatives and to celebrate during this special cruise.” He turned toward his right and extended a hand. “And now, please join me in welcoming Mr. Vance Kingston, acting president and co-owner of Zodiac Cruises!”

Vance stepped out to a resounding applause. He was moved by Jake’s words and the crowd’s enthusiasm, and after thanking them for their presence and participation in a Zodiac cruise, he explained why he was there, and what they would be in for.

At the loud cheers of approval and whistles, he gave a bow, and when he raised his head, his gaze landed on a guest who was just sitting down on the far end of a middle row in the right-hand section of the theater.

Chanelle…

Had she arrived in time to hear him from the beginning? He pulled his gaze away from her. Ordinarily, he had no problem addressing a large crowd, but somehow, knowing she was there, he suddenly felt awkward. He hadn’t told her anything about himself, and he couldn’t help wondering if she’d be feeling awkward as well when she realized who he was.

He finished up his address and thanked the audience again. His gaze swept casually over the crowd, and for a few seconds, Chanelle seemed to be looking straight at him. As the orchestra started up with a musical number that would take the audience through decades of Broadway theater productions, Vance strode off the stage, the cue for the Aquarius dancers to appear.

He and Mariah had chosen seats near the front on the left-hand section of the theater. Vance was too far away from where Chanelle was sitting to even get a glimpse of her. As he sat down, he exchanged smiles with Mariah, who squeezed his arm in approval. The chandeliers were dimmed, and the dancers burst onto the stage in a swirl of sequins, lights and music. Vance sat back in the plush seat to take in the spectacular opening, but as the dancers spun past, it was a pair of hazel-green eyes that danced before him…

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