Man Overboard. Karen Leabo

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СКАЧАТЬ in the air to dry her recently polished nails. She hadn’t been able to think of any other way to kill time while nursing her supposed headache.

      “You know, that James is a very nice-looking man,” Aurora said, “and I think he’s rather intrigued with you. He asked a lot of questions about you.”

      “I hope you told him I have a boyfriend who plays linebacker for the Dolphins.”

      “Oh, Paige, I told him no such thing. In fact, I made it known that you were quite available. I hope that was all right. Don’t you like James?”

      “It wasn’t all right, and no, I don’t particularly like James—at least, not in that way. Please, Mother, stay out of my love life.”

      “I’m only trying to help,” Aurora said, undaunted. “What did you come on this cruise for, if not to meet men?”

      To keep you from meeting men. “To relax,” she answered as she abruptly stood and began pacing the tiny floor space.

      “It doesn’t seem to be working.”

      Paige sat down again. “Give it time,” she said, softening. “I’ve only been on board a few hours. I’ll get the hang of it soon.”

      By the time they headed for the nine-o’clock dinner seating in the elegant Seascape Dining Room, Paige’s mood had improved. She felt more like herself in an uncomplicated silk sheath and simple accessories, her unruly hair folded into a sophisticated twist atop her head. She wasn’t looking forward to eating shark, no matter who prepared it, but she figured the menu would also include steak or chicken.

      Her optimism took an abrupt nosedive when the steward showed them to their table and she saw who else was seated there.

      Harrison and James both stood as the ladies approached. “Good evening,” Harrison said as he took Aurora’s hand between his and gave her a peck on the cheek in an irritatingly debonair gesture.

      Who did he think he was, Cary Grant? Paige groused inwardly, although she had to admit he looked the part in his starched white shirt, conservative tie and a charcoal jacket that had obviously been tailored to fit his wide shoulders.

      “I hope you don’t mind that we arranged to share a table with you,” he said.

      “We’re delighted,” Aurora answered smoothly. She looked expectantly at Paige, who remained silent.

      The two men and Aurora carried the conversation through most of dinner, sometimes discussing serious topics, other times sharing silly jokes and laughing until their eyes were moist with tears.

      No one seemed to mind Paige’s pensiveness. Every so often James would lean over and offer an aside to Paige, speaking in a low voice much too near her ear. His warm breath against her cheek, far from provocative, made her want to flee to her cabin and wash her face.

      When the waiter set the shark steak in front of her, Paige questioned her impulsive decision to be brave and try something new. What was she trying to prove, anyway? But she ate it without complaint, hardly tasting it, washing it down with the less-than-palatable Chablis from her constantly filled glass.

      After dinner Paige considered calling it a night. It was almost eleven. But she had promised Bobby she would keep an eye on Aurora, so she found herself following the others to the Copacabana Lounge. A small orchestra was doing a creditable job on some big band numbers despite its size. Bobby had once sung with a similar band, and a wave of unexpected nostalgia hit her.

      “Would you like to dance?” James asked her.

      “Umm, no, actually...” she stammered.

      “C’mon, Paige,” he wheedled. “I’m a terrific ballroom dancer. I’ll teach you the steps in no time.”

      An amused look passed between mother and daughter. If there was one thing Paige didn’t need lessons on, it was dancing. Touring the country with her father’s band, she had practically grown up in nightclubs, learning everything from the tango to the twist to the Texas two-step.

      Harrison was watching her, too, seemingly interested in her response. She felt a sudden, illogical urge to show him that she wasn’t completely inept when it came to social skills.

      She smiled up at James. “All right, one dance.”

      The band had just launched into “In the Mood,” and she and James fell into an easy jitterbug. James was an adept partner, if not an inspired one, and Paige found that she was almost enjoying herself. They fit well together, James’s less-than-towering height complementing her petite size.

      “I think you’re the one who should be giving lessons,” he said when the song ended. “How did you learn to dance like that?”

      “My parents taught me,” she said, choosing not to elaborate.

      The band started a slower number, and James drew her into his arms for a waltz. She wasn’t as comfortable dancing so close, and she did her best to maintain some distance between their bodies while James did his best to maximize contact.

      She glanced wistfully at their table, wondering how she could end the dance without sounding horribly rude, when she saw Harrison watching them, his black gaze practically burning a hole through her.

      Rather than pleasing her, as it should have, the look on his face disturbed her.

      Fortunately a beeper in James’s coat pocket chose that moment to chirp. “Damn,” he said under his breath as he reluctantly released Paige. “Looks like I’ll have to go take care of some small emergency. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

      Paige murmured her insincere regrets over his leaving, breathed a quiet sigh of relief and went back to the table.

      “How about it, Aurora?” Harrison was saying, apparently oblivious to Paige’s return.

      “Oh, I don’t think so,” Aurora demurred. “I’m not much for dancing, not tonight, anyway. My feet hurt.”

      What? Paige thought. Since when did her mother not like to dance?

      “Besides, I need to go powder my nose,” Aurora continued. “If you’re set on dancing, why don’t you give Paige a try?”

      Paige gave a small gasp as they both looked expectantly at her. Dance with Harrison? The mere thought made her dizzy. Or maybe that was just the wine.

      “Would you like to dance, Paige?” Harrison asked politely. “If James doesn’t mind, that is.”

      That infuriated her. “James was called away on business,” she informed him icily. “But I’m sure he doesn’t give a fig whom I dance with, nor would I care if he did.”

      “Good.” Harrison stood and took her hand, urging her out of her chair.

      Aurora leaned over to Paige and whispered, “Don’t let him dance with anyone else, particularly not that stacked brunette who keeps making cow eyes at him from across the room. I’ll be back shortly.”

      It appeared Paige had no choice but to acquiesce. It irked her that her mother thought her to be far less of a threat than the silicone-implanted bimbo. It irked her again СКАЧАТЬ