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  So what was she thinking?

  "Ashley? Is that you? You sound a million miles away!"

  "Close.” Ashley bit her lip. “They told me I might have trouble hearing you or vice-versa. Who answered the phone?"

  "Oh. That was Lindsey. He had a little too much to drink last night, so he crashed here. I was just bringing him my hangover remedy when you called."

  Relief washed over her. She felt silly for her suspicious thoughts. Tom was not gay. Of course, he wasn't gay. She managed a laugh. “Poor Lindsey.” Whoever Lindsey was. “He won't know what hit him until it's too late."

  Unlike Rick's sweet concoction, Tom's ‘remedy’ was three-fourths vodka and one-fourth tomato juice.

  "Well, I'm glad to hear you're not pining away for me,” she said, only half-joking.

  "Oh, but I am, Ash. I miss you like hell. I can't wait until you get back."

  Ashley couldn't speak for a moment. She was imagining Michael saying those exact same words and how much more sincere they would sound coming from him.

  When Tom said them, they were devoid of passion. He could have been talking to any number of his friends. Stop it! Ashley pinched the bridge of her nose until tears sprang to her eyes. Damn, Michael! And damn Kim, too, if she was behind this as Michael suspected.

  "So, have you met the other lotto winner?” Tom asked, snagging her attention and reminding her of something she had totally forgotten.

  "Um, no. Not yet.” The only information she had about the other winner was that he or she was from her home state. The lottery commission wasn't allowed to give her any further information, so she was on her own. She would have to play sleuth and had actually been looking forward to it.

  Until Michael. Once Michael entered the picture, she'd forgotten a lot of important things. Like fiancés and lottery winners and self-respect and shame.

  Why are you here, Michael? Just to torment me?

  She and Tom said their goodbyes, and Ashley hung up the phone with a deep sense of impending doom. She had hoped the phone call to Tom would make her feel guilty, but it hadn't. Before she could change her mind, she quickly dialed Kim's number. If Kim truly was behind Michael's presence on the ship, then she would confirm it.

  "Hello?"

  "Kim?"

  "Ashley? Oh my God, Ash! How's the cruise? Is it fabulous? Have you spent all your money? Did you buy something for me?"

  Ashley didn't feel like exchanging idle chit-chat. She had a situation on her hands. “What's Michael doing on this ship?"

  "Who?"

  "Michael. Your brother. My ex-husband. The man I do my best to avoid.” The man who had rocked her world last night.

  "Oh. Him. What was the question?"

  "For heaven's sake—what is he doing on this cruise?"

  Kim was silent far too long for Ashley's peace of mind. What was she doing? Preparing her lie? Stalling?

  "Well, he, uh ... the truth is he made me swear not tell anyone."

  "Tell anyone what?” Ashley demanded.

  "I just told you, Ash, I can't tell you!” Kim sounded sincerely agitated. “I know we're best friends and all, but this time Michael made me swear on Mom's grave."

  "You have to tell me."

  "I can't."

  "Yes, you can. And you will.” If Ashley had to call her back a dozen times, she would find out the truth.

  "I can give you a tiny hint, but you have to swear not to tell him or let on that you know."

  A sharp thrill raced along Ashley's spine. Kim had never before sounded so cloak and dagger. “Okay, I swear."

  "On your mother's grave?"

  "Kim, my mother's still alive."

  "Oh. That's right.” Kim sighed. “He's going to kill me for this..."

  "He won't ever find out,” Ashley promised.

  "Just a hint. That's all I can give."

  "Can you give it today?” Ashley asked, exasperated. “As in, right now?"

  "It's about money, and that's all I can say."

  "Money?” Ashley was dumbfounded. “Money is the reason he's on this cruise? Come on, Kim! You can do better than that."

  "No, I can't. I've told you more than I should have already.” Kim's voice dropped low as she pleaded, “Please don't make me break a promise to my brother, Ash."

  Ashley wasn't convinced, and wasn't fooled by her pleading tone. “You're lying. You threw us together on purpose, and now you're trying to distract me—"

  "I did throw you two together,” Kim confessed hurriedly, but without apology. “I admit that. When I found out Tom wasn't going with you, the opportunity was too sweet to resist. But I'm not lying about the money."

  For the next several minutes, Ashley pleaded, threatened, and cajoled, but to no avail. Kim had buttoned her lips. Finally, Ashley gave up. “Okay, but after this cruise you and I are going to settle this Michael-thing once and for all. Michael and I are divorced. I'm going to marry Tom. He's going to marry Candy.” The name almost got stuck in her throat. Ashley swallowed gamely, trying not to imagine Candy performing a back bend on Michael's lap. “So get over it, Kim."

  "Yeah, sure."

  "Kim..."

  "Gotta go, Ash. Give Michael a kiss for me, would you?” With that cheeky remark, Kim hung up the phone.

  "She's impossible!” Ashley muttered, slamming down the phone. Just like her brother! Impossible and contrary and devious.

  Ashley spent the next two hours in the casino, recklessly feeding the slot machines ... determined that she would find something to take her mind off of Michael and the stark image of the tent-pole in his shorts.

  And the look of pure lust in his eyes when he realized she'd noticed.

  How could he be so quick to arouse after the night they'd spent? How could she be so quick to react to his arousal? How could either one of them have the energy left to think about it?

  And what the heck had Kim meant about Michael and money? Was he broke? It didn't make sense! Broke people didn't go on expensive cruises. They stayed home and counted their pennies and tried to figure out ways to get ahead.

  She was feeding a slot machine when she happened to glance up and catch sight of Michael across the room. He was seated at a blackjack table, and he'd already drawn a crowd around him.

  Like a magnet to steel, Ashley crossed the room and merged into the expectant crowd to watch him.

  "Hit me."

  "Are you sure you want to bet the entire two thousand, sir?"

  "I don't need a nurse maid, I need a card,” Michael growled. “Now hit me."

  Ashley held her breath as the dealer turned up a seven of diamonds to Michael's queen. As one, the crowd leaned forward.

  The dealer turned up his own card, a ten of spades to go with his king.

  Michael had just lost two thousand dollars on one hand of blackjack.

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  Chapter Seven

  Michael walked to the far end of the upper deck where he could have a little privacy. He flipped open his cell phone and dialed Kim's number, turning to face the vast blue sea. To his left, a school of dolphins leaped in the air as they raced to keep up with the ship.

  The phone rang twice before Kim picked up. Before he could announce himself, she said, “If you're calling to badger me into telling, you're wasting your time."

  "Kim?” Michael frowned. There was a small, telling silence on the other end. “Are you there? It's Michael."

  "I realize that now,” Kim said, sounding suspiciously guilty. “I forgot your phone has a certain ring on my end so I know you're calling."

  "So I gathered,” Michael said dryly. “I've got bad news."

  "Do I need to sit down?"

  "Probably.” He gave her enough time to do just that before he said, “I lost the entire two thousand."

  "Oh, that!"

  She was laughing in relief! Michael held out the phone and tapped it a few times. Maybe they had a bad connection. Just in case, he said, “Kim, I lost your money. I told you that I was
lousy a gambler."

  Kim remained suspiciously cheerful. “Did you play blackjack, like I asked you to?"

  "Yes."

  "And did you play the entire two thousand on one hand, like I asked you to?"

  "Yes."

  "And did you enjoy it?"

  "No.” Michael ran an exasperated hand through his salt-damp hair. “I'm going to win your money back for you, and then I'm finished with gambling."

  "You would think,” Kim drawled, heavy on the sarcasm, “that after winning the lottery you might be willing to take a risk now and then."

  "You could have used that money to expand your catering business,” Michael pointed out. “Which is why I'm going to win it back. I can afford to lose it. You can't."

  "Instead of using your money to win mine back, why don't you just buy Ashley something nice when the ship docks in St. Thomas or Barbados?"

  "You cheeky little brat.” Michael was amazed at her gall. “You're not even going to pretend that you didn't know she was going to be on this cruise."

  Kim snorted. “Give me a little credit for giving you a little credit for having some brains, bro. You would never have believed me."

  "You're right, I wouldn't.” Michael shook his head, knowing he should be furious. He'd always had trouble staying mad at Kim. “But you'd better hope she doesn't figure out that I came to be on this cruise for the very same reason she's here."

  "She won't. Think about it, Michael. Ashley knows you. She knows how you feel about gambling. She would never, ever, in a million years consider you won the lottery."

  Michael chuckled, knowing Kim was right. It would be the last thing Ashley would dream of.

  "I mean, the absolute irony of you buying a lottery ticket using the same sentimental numbers—"

  "I told you, I was mocking her. I never thought for a moment that she'd win—that I would win.” At least he was telling the truth about not believing their numbers would win. The rest he would take to his grave.

  "Right. So how's the fire?"

  "The fire?” Michael was lost. “I don't get you."

  "The fire. The big blaze. The inferno you two create when you're within a few feet of—"

  Michael slapped his phone together, disconnecting her. He held his arms out and squeezed his fingers together, imagining Kim's neck.

  From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a boy, about six or seven, watching him with wide, frightened eyes.

  With a sheepish smile, Michael dropped his arms and stuck his hands in his pockets, whistling nonchalantly as he walked away.

  * * * *

  Michael didn't show for lunch.

  It took every ounce of willpower Ashley possessed to remain at the table throughout the meal, listening to Birdie's constant chatter and trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

  When everything was wrong.

  She'd left the casino in a state of horrified shock. Watching Michael carelessly throw two thousand dollars away on a card hand, swift on the heels of her murky conversation with Kim about money and Michael, had left her shaken and imagining the worst.

  Michael never gambled. Just the shock of seeing him in a casino should have triggered an alarm, but she'd been so busy trying not to think naughty thoughts about him that she hadn't been thinking straight at all.

  Michael made fun of people who gambled. Not because he was trying to be righteous—that would be a laugh, because Michael had always been a risk-taker—but because he considered the odds laughable. One time he'd snatched her lottery ticket from her hand and pointed to the list of rules typed on the back in red ink. “See the odds, Ash? One in two million chances that you'll get these numbers. You're wasting your money, and the state of Missouri is getting rich."

  To her knowledge, he'd never bought a lottery ticket, and she doubted he ever would, not even after she'd managed to beat the odds herself. She could hear him now. “It was a fluke. It will never happen again to anyone we know."

  Yes, that sounded like something Michael would say, all right. And after saying it, nothing would persuade him to participate in the lottery ... or any other type of gambling.

  So what happened? And when did it happen, and why hadn't Kim mentioned it? She was, after all, his ex-wife. She still cared about him—oh, not that way anymore, of course—but as one human to another.

  How could Kim keep it from her? How dare she, when she took every opportunity to throw them together?

  "Penny for your thoughts? Or is it a dollar, these days?"

  Ashley gave a start and looked up to find Deckland watching her with a concerned smile. She forced herself to smile back. “I'm sorry. Did I miss something?"

  "We were all wondering where Michael was,” he said.

  Tanya caught the sleeve of a passing waiter pushing a dessert tray and snatched a couple of decadent-looking chocolate mousse dishes from the assortment. She set one in front of Ashley. “Yes, tell us where Michael is. He may be totally devoted to you, but he has a way of making all women feel pretty, and I could use a lift right about now. The most interesting guy I've met so far is Bart."

  "Thank you, my dear,” Bart said, sounding pleased.

  The chocolate mousse looked loaded with calories. Ashley gave a brief thought to the five pounds she'd lost before digging in. It was delicious and just what she needed. She swallowed her second bite before she said, “Truthfully, I don't know where he is at the moment.” She had her suspicions, but nothing she wanted to share with her dinner companions.

  "And you're not worried?” Tanya pointed her spoon at Ashley. “Honey, if I had a man like Michael, I would never let him out of my sight. The women are drooling all over him. Haven't you noticed?"

  Suddenly, the chocolate tasted bitter. Ashley shoved her uneaten dessert aside and reached for her water. She hadn't noticed, because she'd been too busy drooling over him herself.

  Deckland saved her from having to answer the unanswerable. “Does she look worried? I don't think she does. Anyone with a scrap of intuition can plainly see Ashley and Michael are soul mates."

  Tanya turned her wide-eyed gaze to Deckland. “You believe in soul mates, Dr. Jennings?"

  "Call me Deckland, please. I'm officially off duty.” He shot Ashley an odd, knowing look that froze her on the spot. “Unless I'm needed, of course. And yes, Tanya, I do believe in soul mates. Michael and Ashley are perfect examples."

  "Bart and I are another perfect example,” Birdie inserted. “And though we no longer get it on the way Ashley and Michael do, we've had our day.” She exchanged a heated look with Bart before locking in on Ashley's mousse. “If you're not going to finish that luscious-looking dessert, may I?"

  Absently, Ashley handed the dish to Birdie, no longer shocked by anything the elderly couple did or said. She was still thinking about what Deckland had said, and the funny look he'd given her. Almost as if he knew she and Michael were not the happily married couple everyone thought them to be.

  Could the man be that astute? She supposed he could be. He was, after all, a psychologist. A certain amount of perception was probably a necessary attribute in his profession.

  Maybe she could talk to him about Michael and his gambling problem, see what he suggested she do. And maybe while she was at it, she could find out what Deckland knew about the mystery of body chemistry, since he was writing a book about it. What Ashley wanted to know was how two people who were so obviously wrong for each other could be so insanely attracted to one another.

  And if there was a cure for that attraction.

  Suddenly, the air was shattered by the sound of a loud foghorn. Birdie let out an excited cry and leaped to her feet, knocking the scraped clean dessert dish from the table. Bart caught her wayward chair before it hit the floor, casting them a sheepish smile.

  "Come! Come!” Birdie shouted, waving her arms. “They've spotted whales! Let's go see the whales!"

  Tanya immediately rose to follow the charge of people heading for the lookout deck. Ashley rose too, but Deckland st
opped her with a hand to her wrist before she could take a step away from the table. Surprised, she turned to look at him.

  "Won't you stay and talk? We'll have another chance to see the whales. I promise.” When she hesitated, he tugged on her wrist. “I know you've got something on your mind."

  "Is it that obvious?” she asked with a rueful twist of her lips. He nodded then patted the chair Tanya had vacated. The dining room was deserted.

  More than a little embarrassed, Ashley allowed him to pull her down. “You're on vacation. I'm sure the last thing you want is to deal with someone else's problems."

  Deckland smiled. “Believe it or not, I didn't enter into this profession for the money. I did it because I care about people, and I want to help them."

  "How did you know that I—that I—"

  "Had something on your mind?” he finished. “Let me see. You might have tipped me off when you glanced at Michael's empty chair for the hundredth time. Or it might have been that frown between your brows. Then there was the fact that you ate your garnish, which happened to be made of wax."

  Ashley dropped her face into her hands. “Tell me you're joking,” she mumbled between her fingers. Her face was on fire.

  "Sorry. You really did eat your garnish, and it really was made of wax. But don't worry it won't hurt you. I asked one of the waiters."

  She lifted her head to peek at him. “Did anyone—"

  "No. Nobody else saw you eat the wax seashell. In fact, if it makes you feel better, Birdie ate hers, too.” Ashley couldn't resist a smile. “That's better. Now. Would you like to visit here, or would you rather go somewhere more private?"

  Ashley didn't hesitate. She didn't want to take a chance that someone else might hear what she had to say. “Let's go to your cabin."

  * * * *

  Michael emerged from their cabin just in time to catch the flash of Ashley's yellow dress disappearing into Deckland's cabin down the hall. He jaw dropped and a wave of jealously swept over him, causing him to stagger back into the cabin and shut the door. What the hell was she doing in Deckland's cabin? While he'd been attempting to drown his relentless erection in cold water, she, apparently, had had no trouble at all putting him from her mind—replacing him.