Dylan took her elbow and led her into the seating. Choosing a plush couch, he sat. With him still holding her elbow, she was forced to sit, too.

Michaela watched him wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. Her hand almost reached for his towel to do it for him. The masculine face, neatly framed as it was now by his dark hair, just begged to be touched. Stroked. And those lips—a straight line on top but a full, cushiony pillow on the bottom—just begged to be kissed. Again.

Stop it.

Dylan pulled her out of her reverie. “I’m being run ragged, as George puts it. My full schedule, two shows a night, and all those women trying to get my attention…”

She rolled her eyes at his robust ego, but he continued with apparent sincerity, “I don’t want to burn out on this first cruise. Wouldn’t help anyone.”

Michaela bit her lip. His exhaustion was her fault. She shouldn’t be trying to punish him for getting in her head or for being so good-looking. If she was honest, her prickles at his breach of procedure came from the same source, too. While it wasn’t really done to page a superior officer to come to where you were, people did it all the time, and she didn’t mind when she wasn’t busy. “I can probably shift a couple of your activities onto someone else.”

That was the professional thing to do. She was not doing it, she reassured herself, because she wanted him to like her.

“Just like that?”

“I’ll take you out of the children’s club.”

“Oh.” His face fell, confusing Michaela. Wasn’t she doing exactly what he’d just asked?

“It’s just that I really like the kids. There are a couple who look just like my nephews. They always remind me how to play properly.”

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Michaela fought hard to keep her surprise from showing. When she’d first started on the cruise ships, she’d loved being assigned to help out with the kids’ club for that very same reason. She’d forgotten about the feeling, putting that part of herself away as she’d risen through the ranks and started needing to appear more official.

From under her eyelashes, she saw Dylan gaze down at her.

“Knowing how to play is very important, wouldn’t you say?” Something dark and dirty rumbled in his voice. How could one man be so open one minute and then so…so filthy sexy? Could she…could she maybe practice the making babies part with him?

Dear God, had she just thought that? Imagine what Felicity would say. What was wrong with her resolve?

Her pause must have convinced him to retreat to safer waters. “You have kids?” he asked.

She steeled herself to be professional, but she found she wanted to reply honestly, as she always seemed to with him. “I haven’t had the time to think about a relationship that might include children yet. It’s been a pretty hard slog to get here.”

“I know. Women have a hard job getting to the top and staying there. It’s still pretty rare to find a woman at the head of a big multinational—or—” He seemed to stutter. “—or so I hear.”

There he went again with his empathetic comments. There had to be a catch. Apart, of course, from the obvious fact that he was part of her staff, was completely inappropriate with his kisses, and would probably never earn enough money to keep his children in diapers.

But he wasn’t strictly a member of her staff. He didn’t work in her office—he was really on George’s team.

And George works for you. Stop it.

Oblivious to her internal dialogue, he continued, “So no man has ever tried to convince you to leave all this and have kids?”

“No one has even got close. My career is my priority, but…I don’t know. The biological reality is starting to close in. Even after I have kids, though, I want to keep my career going. I just don’t know what my next step would be after this.”

Shut up. He doesn’t need to know all this.

“You can’t be that old? Sorry, I guess I’ve asked you a couple of times, I’m just curious. How old are you?”

He was definitely turning the charm on, and she couldn’t help feeling flattered. Michaela suppressed a smile. No way did he really think she was in her early twenties, but it was nice to be flirted with for a change. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like.

“I’m older than you,” she said.

His eyebrows shot up. “Get out.”

“Thirty-four.”

“Really? Man, you don’t look it, even with all the stress of this job. You must have good genes.”

“Must do,” she said in a dry tone.

“It’s strange how it’s so acceptable for women to be with older men, but society is less easy when it’s the other way round. I guess it’s got something to do with women maturing faster than men. An older man is on a more equal footing with a younger woman.” He said it smoothly, and instead of being annoyed at him spinning her a line, she was once again flattered that his attention brought with it more than just the superficial chatter she’d come to expect from her staff.

As he spoke, Dylan seemed to slide closer along the theater couch toward her. Michaela tried to move away to keep a professional distance, but she was already at the edge of the couch, and the armrest blocked her escape.

“I don’t think it’s really about who matures faster,” she said quickly. “I’ve met plenty of older men who are completely immature and some younger ones who seem to have more of a complete grasp on life than I do. I guess it’s just about life experience.”

She wondered about Dylan’s life experiences. Being a dancer for years must have been interesting, if nothing else. All those beautiful women, their bodies finely tuned, their lives just one performance after another. They danced in front of her, and Dylan lifted them up one at a time, treating each of them to a passionate kiss. They spun around Dylan in her mind, taunting him, pleasuring him.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it, she chanted to herself, hoping to make the disturbing picture evaporate.

“Life experience.” Dylan looked her full in the face, eyes smoldering. “So, do you consider yourself experienced?”

That last line almost melted Michaela. She sensed a secret in him, something dark, perhaps a hurt that maybe, just maybe, needed healing.

This must be the source of the attraction. It’s just my maternal instinct kicking into overdrive.

She put a hand to her neck, wondering if she could heal this man.




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