The Trouble With Paradise

you understand?”

He was wearing the frown she’d rarely seen him without-until the kiss, that is. He definitely hadn’t been frowning when she’d kissed him.

Or when he’d kissed her.

Had he thought about it? How good it’d been? Make that amazing. Off-the-charts amazing.

“Damn it, Dorie. You’re not safe down here.”

He definitely wasn’t thinking about the kiss.

“What?” he asked in disbelief, making her realize she’d spoken out loud.

“Um, nothing.”

“You’re thinking about the kiss, now?”

“Yeah, and that I have the brain capacity left to do so baffles even me, trust me.”

He continued to look at her as if she’d lost her mind, and she had to admit, she clearly had. “It’s just that with you my tongue doesn’t swell.”

“You hit your head?”

“I wondered about that, too, but no. I know, it sounds crazy, but my tongue swells whenever I’m around a cute guy. Which is why it swelled with Andy, making it hard to talk to him-”

“But not with me, apparently, since you manage to talk, a lot.” He fought through the water to come closer.

“No. Not with you-”

That was all she got out before he hauled her up against him and covered her mouth with his, probably just to shut her up; as a quieting technique, it worked for her. He made the most of the next few seconds, kissing her so thoroughly that when he let go and stared into her face, she staggered back and might have fallen on her poor beleaguered butt if he hadn’t held her steady.

“So I’m guessing,” she whispered, “we’re both thinking about the kiss, and-”

“And we can both get over it.”

He needed to get over it? “Can you? Get over it?”

“Oui. Absolutely.”

“How?” she asked, wondering if there was some secret.

Before he could answer, the boat pitched and rolled. Just as she lost her grip and would have gone flying, he snagged her close again. She slid up against that warm body for longer than necessary, and she was able to ascertain that, oh boy, no matter what he said, he wasn’t yet over it.

“Working on it,” he said grimly, reading her mind.

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. Jesus. Now stop…” He waved a hand, searching for the right words. “Distracting me.”

She was distracting. She’d never been accused of that before, and it made her grin from ear to ear.

“No,” he said. “Don’t do that.” He pointed to the stairs. “Go. Get up there.”

“I’m helping you look for Bobby.”

“No.”

“But if we have to get into the raft”-please God, don’t let them have to get into the raft-“he’s going to get left behind. We can’t leave him behind.”

“No one’s getting left behind. Just go back up.”

“What if I saw him go overboard?”

“You said you saw two men hugging.”

“Or fighting,” she reminded him.

“And then they vanished,” he said. “You said they vanished.”

“Yes.”

“But two men aren’t missing.”

Only one. “What if one tossed the other over?”

His jaw tightened. “Go up.”

She shook her head and followed him down the hall, where he looked in every room. “I should have called my mom more often. I’m a bad daughter, Christian.”

He made a low, rough sound. “I don’t believe that.”

“I wish I’d told her I loved her before I came on this cruise. Instead I got annoyed because she told me to find a rich husband while I was here.”

He let out a short laugh that told her he understood, and checked another room.

“Do you have regrets? Do you get annoyed at your mother, too?”

“Used to.”

Used to. Didn’t tell her much. She yearned to know more about this enigmatic, charismatic man she couldn’t seem to stop thinking about. “Are you close?” she asked breathlessly, trying to keep up.

With a sigh, he slowed, and reached for her hand. They splashed through the water that was up to their calves as he towed her by the hand, his grip ruthless as if he was afraid to let go. She appreciated the diligence. She didn’t want him to let go.

“My mother’s been gone a long time,” he said.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”

“Like I said, a long time ago.”

“Did your father raise you? In… France?” she guessed.

“No. My mother was French. After she was gone, I left France to go live with my father, who was an Irish medic with an international charity organization. We stayed in Ireland, Africa, India… wherever his job took him.”

“Wow. So you’ve been helping people all your life.”

“You make it sound like a hero thing.”

“It is.”

“No.” He shook his head. “My father gave his life to it, at the cost of anything personal. That’s not heroic, that’s obsessive.”

“He had you. That was personal, right?”

“I was more a responsibility than a son.”

“And yet you became a doctor.”

“Because going away to college was my escape from poverty. Just like being here is paying off that debt.” He tried to open the door to the room Bobby shared with Ethan, but couldn’t.

“Debt?”

“Now who’s thinking out loud. Forget it, okay? Bobby?” He banged on the door.

“What debt are you paying off?”

He sighed again. “It’s expensive to become a doctor. My father helped me get the loans I needed. Now I’m helping him.”

“Which is why you’re here.”

“For one more year. Then I’m free to go back to France. Now that you have my entire life’s story, will you get your pretty ass back to the others?”

He thought her ass was pretty. Apparently she wasn’t suitably terrified because that warmed her more than it should. Although, in truth, his talking about his life warmed her more than his nice ass comment.

The man was human, and she’d just gotten proof. Looking into his chiseled, rigid features, she felt like she could finally begin to understand both his discipline and the walls he kept around himself. “What if you need help with Bobby?”

“He’d never risk his neck to do the same for you.”

“But if he’s hurt-”

“Then he’s the responsibility of the crew.”

The boat pitched suddenly, more violently than before, and they both hit the door. Dorie lost her footing and