Finding Mr. Right (11 page)

An expression of alarm flashed across the man’s face. “Uh…no. I mean she resembles someone I…met once.”

“What was the name of that woman you met once?”

The man stared up at him, and the other five people at the table had stopped talking. “I…uh…don’t remember. It must have been at least twenty years ago.”

“Where?”

“Uh…San Francisco.”

“She’s never been to San Francisco in her life. Stop ogling her. You’re making her uncomfortable, and you’re getting on my nerves. I don’t want to have to speak to you about it again.”

“Sorry. No hard feelings, I hope.”

He looked the man in the eye. “Not this time.”

He wasn’t satisfied that the man got the message, but he hoped he’d put an end to the blatant leering. He went back to his seat praying that Tyra wouldn’t make him angry by telling him that he’d overstepped his authority. She surprised him.

“You promised me we’d dance after dinner.”

“I asked if you’d like to line dance. Jazz dancing is scheduled for tomorrow evening. Would you like to leave?”

“Yes. If the moon’s shining, can we walk along the deck for a few minutes?”

He stood, held out his hand, and she rose and took it. He put an arm around her as they strolled along the deck, but he only half listened to what she said, because he’d trained one ear to listen for footsteps or any unusual sound behind them.

“I didn’t realize it would be so cool out here,” she said. “Next time, I’ll bring my shawl.”

“Good idea. We’d better go in. I don’t want you to get a cold.” What he did want was a chance to check whether her admirer had left the table. He walked with her back to the dining room, looked toward their assigned table and saw that the man remained where they left him. So far so good. All he needed was to have a foolish man tailing them.

She surprised him again. “Don’t worry. He’s not foolish enough to take you on. The little runt is less than half your size. Besides, that kind of man is a coward.”

“I hope not. Cowards will attack you from behind. I think his money usually talks for him, and he wants to see if he can turn your head with it.”

“Poor fool. My heart’s taken.”

He nearly stumbled. “What? What did you say?”

“Honey, you have to keep your mind on where you’re going,” she said, showing her white teeth in a wide grin. “And if you don’t listen carefully to what I say, you’re subject to miss something important.”

“You little imp. I heard every word you said. And if you aren’t careful, I’ll get possessive right here in this corridor.”

She threw back her head and looked to the side. “Why would you want me to be careful? I thought you wanted me to let it all hang out.”

“You’re flirting with me. Keep it up. Remember I know exactly how to get you to let it hang out.”

She lowered her lashes and her voice. “I’m counting on that.”

E
xhausted from the long day that had begun at six o’clock in Frederick that morning and shifted to the world of cruise boats, slot machines and line dancing, Tyra leaned against Byron and stifled a yawn. Not that she was sending him a message, she wasn’t. She made it a habit not to play games with men or to mislead them. She loved to line dance, although she’d rarely done it, and line dancing with Byron was such fun, and a revelation, too. He seemed to have put every muscle and sinew of his body into it, and she danced long after she became tired, because she enjoyed seeing him move. She covered her mouth in hopes of hiding another yawn.

“Are you sleepy?” he asked her. “If you are, I’m not surprised, since it’s already eleven-thirty.”

At a beverage fountain, he stopped and asked what she would like to drink, but she wanted nothing more than to get out of her clothes, put her head on a pillow and go to sleep. “No thanks, Byron. I just want to fall into bed.”

With an arm firmly around her waist, he headed them to their staterooms. “What would you like for breakfast tomorrow morning? I’ll put our orders in tonight. Want to watch the sunrise?” She told him she would and that she’d like to eat grits, sage sausage, scrambled eggs, a buttermilk biscuit, honeydew melon and coffee at around eight. He stared at her and nodded his head.

“I’m a big breakfast eater, and I often don’t take lunch.”

At her door, he put both of his arms around her. “I’ll stand here until you’re inside. Lock your door, and I’m not moving until you do it.”

She reached up, put a hand behind his head and urged his mouth to hers. His kiss was light, without the explosive passion that she expected. She wanted so badly to go to sleep in his arms, but she knew that, exhausted as she was, that’s all she would do. Fall asleep.

“You’re so sweet,” she said in a half-asleep, seductive voice.

He kissed her cheek. “Get in there before I lose my halo. I’ll call you ten minutes before sunrise.” He opened the door, pushed her inside, and closed it behind her. His light knock reminded her to lock it, and she did.

Ten minutes later, snug in her bed, she vowed, “Tomorrow night, I am going to sleep in his arms or know the reason why not.” She buried herself between the covers, put the pillow on top of her head, closed her eyes and said a prayer. “Lord, please don’t let me make a mistake with this man, and please let me know if he’s the one.”

Byron stood on the deck in their private balcony-like area and listened to the waves as they hit the side of the huge boat. As much as he ached to bury himself in her to the hilt, he knew and appreciated her gentle way of telling him that tonight was not the time. But she had given him many signals that she’d had minimal experience as a lover, so he knew he had better
prepare her for it. He went into his stateroom, ordered their breakfast for eight o’clock and coffee for six-thirty, set his watch to alarm at six, showered and went to bed.

Knowing that she slept alone next to him should have kept him awake all night, but he awakened a few minutes before his watch alarm triggered the end of sleep. Feeling refreshed, he threw on a pair of shorts and went out on deck to let the fresh, salty air caress his body. He saw a gray streak edge above the horizon, went back inside and dialed Tyra’s room number.

“Hmm?”

“Tyra, this is Byron. Do you still want to see the sun rise over the ocean?”

“Uh huh. In a minute.”

“Try not to go back to sleep. It won’t wait for you.”

“Be there in a minute, hon.”

Five minutes later, she came out wearing a pair of white shorts and a yellow tank top that didn’t leave much to his imagination. He told himself to get it under control.

“Hi. How many times did you ring?”

“Once. You look as if you’re still asleep.”

“That’s because I am. Where’s the sun?”

He brought her into his arms and hugged her. “It seems to be a little sleepy, too, but it’s getting there.”

A waiter arrived with a container of hot coffee and a service for two. “Good morning, sir, madam. It’s due to rise in seven minutes.” He poured a cup for each of them. “Your breakfast will be here at eight.” Byron thanked the man, put a five-dollar bill on the tray, looked at the red, blue, orange and gray streaks in the sky and turned to Tyra.

“For the remainder of my life, I’ll think of you whenever I see a sunrise.”

“Funny. I was thinking something similar, that whenever I see a setting like this, I hope I’m with you.”

He sipped his coffee, eager to know if she loved him, but
unwilling to ask, for he wasn’t ready to show his
own
hand. The weight of her hand tugging at his arm almost startled him. “What is it, sweetheart?”

“It’s so…so awesome,” she gasped. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

He concurred as they gazed at the great kaleidoscope of colors bursting on to the sky. “I’ll bet every painter on this boat is out here with his canvas, paints and brushes. Or they should be. It’s a phenomenal sight.”

“I’m never going to forget this. In fact, I’m never going to forget this trip or you.”

He shook her gently. “I hope the hell not, and I intend to do what I can to make sure that you don’t.”

Her soft hand eased into the palm of his left one. “With both of us working on it, I don’t see much chance of that. Look! There it is, a big red ball. Oh, Byron. I wouldn’t have missed this for anything.”

He refilled their coffee cups. “Neither would I. Seeing it with you makes it special.” He thought for a minute. “I want you to enjoy a weekend with Andy, Aunt Jonie and me at my house on the Chesapeake Bay. We spend a lot of time there in July and August. Andy and my father love to fish, though the fishing isn’t as good as it used to be, and we catch crabs, too. We could have gone there this weekend, but I was in no mood to keep house and cook, and I certainly wouldn’t have let you do it.”

“We could eat lunch and dinner at a restaurant, couldn’t we?”

“I suppose, but we enjoy that house so much that we almost never leave it. Maybe we can get there before mid-October.”

“I’d like to see it,” she said. “Thanks for the coffee and the show. I’m going inside to get dressed. My tummy is telling me it’s about time to eat.”

“All right. I’ll see you back here in half an hour?” She nodded, blew him a kiss and disappeared into her stateroom.

He sat there gazing at the vast ocean. Could he possibly love her as much as he believed he did? He shook his head from side to side. Puzzled. He’d never met a woman so down to earth, unpretentious and candid, traits that he hadn’t often seen in a female acquaintance. Good. But she was also beautiful with eyes that lured him like a magnet pulls in a nail. And her body…tall and shapely with those breasts that fit perfectly in his big hands. Add that to the fact that she was educated, intelligent and very moral. And she cared for him. He wasn’t going to fool himself. Tyra Cunningham was perfect for him. But he had to give it more time. He had to be sure that she and Andy accepted each other without reservations and that she was his soul mate as a lover. He didn’t doubt the latter, so that left Andy.

He went inside, shaved, did his ablutions, dressed in white shorts and a yellow T-shirt and got outside simultaneously with the arrival of their breakfast. Tyra joined him almost immediately.

“I could really get used to this life. Not all the time, mind you, but often enough to feel queenly.”

“You’re my queen,” he told her, “so you can feel like one all the time, no matter where you are.” He’d thought she’d smile at that, but instead, she stopped eating, put her fork down and looked at him.

“You’ve got me on a high, Byron. If you take the props out from under me, I’ll never forgive you. Give a woman a taste of pure heaven, and then—”

“Hey, wait till I bomb. Then you can come at me swinging.”

“I’m sorry. You know I’m not much of a gambler, and this time, I’m wagering all that I have.”

“Ah, sweetheart.” He stood, picked her up and held her close to his body. “I’ll hurt myself long before I’d hurt you. I told you that you’re precious to me, and each minute, you become more so. Come on, let’s finish eating and see what’s on this boat.”

Tyra told herself not to dwell on the fact that he hadn’t said he loved her. Some men had a hard time uttering that word. She put some money and a credit card in the pocket of her shorts, locked her valuables in the safe provided in her stateroom and joined Byron on the deck. They spent the morning at a lecture on international travel, played a game of tennis—their first with each other—ate double scoops of frozen yogurt instead of lunch and, at one o’clock in the afternoon, went to their respective rooms for a nap.

She awakened at two-thirty, resisted using the key that connected her room to his and set her mind to planning his surrender. She phoned his room.

“Hi. Feel like checking out the gift shop?” He said he did. “Promise not to buy anything for me, and we can go.” She hung up and dialed his number again. “Hi. And oh, yes. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes. That suit you?”

“Woman, what are you up to?” When she replied, “Nothing,” he said, “I’m telling myself to believe you. I’ll be out in the five minutes you’ve given me.”

In the gift shop, she went directly to the perfume counter. “Those are for men,” a saleswoman said.

“I know.” She watched Byron from her peripheral vision as she pretended to look at perfumes for women. He fingered a bottle of YSL cologne, ran his hands in his pocket, evidently discovered that he didn’t have with him the means to buy it and put it back.

“Would you wrap a bottle of YSL for me?” she whispered to the clerk. “But I’d prefer he didn’t see you do it. It’s a gift.”

The woman selected a bottle from beneath the counter, gift-wrapped it and handed it to her. She paid, took the tiny shopping bag and tapped him on the shoulder. “What do you think I can buy for Maggie?”

“One of those nice totes with the ship’s logo on it. What did you buy just now?”

“Perfume,” she said truthfully.

“I hope you bought the kind you were wearing last night. I loved that.”

“Thank you. I feel good wearing that.” She looked up at him, aware that her countenance showed her alarm. “Why is this boat rocking?”

Holding her close to him, he steadied her. “A big wave can cause that. The Atlantic is known for its unfriendly waves. Some of them can wash up on deck, but the captain will usually give plenty of advance warning for that. Want to see a movie?”

After the movie, they sprawled out beside each other in two deck lounge chairs. Oh, oh, she thought. Here comes trouble. Unfortunately, she didn’t have a book or newspaper with which to obscure her face. She thought for a moment that the overly attentive stranger from the night before would pass without noticing her, but when he paused, she knew he had seen her.

Like a rocket-propelled mannequin, Byron sat up straight. But the man had moved on after only a half-second pause. “I don’t trust that guy,” she heard him murmur, but she said nothing, merely reached over and brushed her hand slowly over his warm and hard washboard middle. Nobody and nothing was going to interfere with her plans.

“I think I’ll get in the pool,” she said, “and since I’m not much of a swimmer, you have to come in with me. Will you?”

“Of course, but we have to change, don’t we? I mean, you brought a bathing suit, didn’t you?”

“Uh huh. Come on.”

He jumped up, reached for her hand, and they strolled hand-in-hand to their staterooms. She supposed he wondered if she ever planned to use that key. Well, let him wonder. A surprise would be good for him.

“I only need fifteen minutes,” she said as he unlocked her door.

“Considering what you’ll probably put on, it shouldn’t take you half that long,” he said without the semblance of a smile.

“Not really,” she said, airily. “The smaller they are the more careful you have to be putting them on.” His eyes nearly doubled in size, but she pretended not to notice. He didn’t have to know that she’d never worn a bikini swimsuit, and that she was embarrassed to wear the one in her drawer.

“All right. I’ll be out in fifteen minutes.”

She looked at herself in the red string bikini, which amounted to four patches, two covering her nipples, one covering her mound and the other at her hips, all held together with strings.
Lord, I can’t walk out there looking like this
.

But it’s a part of your plan, her conscience prodded. She put on the red, fishnet tunic designed to wear with the bathing suit. And though it covered nothing, she felt more modestly clad. She stuck her feet in a pair of red flip flops, got her bathing cap and rushed out. She had expected to see him pacing the floor or looking anxiously at his watch, but he leaned casually against the railing as if he didn’t have a care.

“Sorry if I took longer that fifteen minutes. I had to—”

“You’re going to wear
that?
You can’t wear
that
.”

“Why not? It’s a standard swimsuit. Ninety-nine percent of the women lounging in those deck chairs had on skimpier ones than this.”

“I don’t like it.” He grumbled. “What about those men? I know exactly what they’ll be thinking.”

She took his hand. “But you didn’t think er…anything bad about those women, did you. Tell me you didn’t.”

“I don’t remember what they looked like.”

“You see? And those men aren’t going to remember what I look like, either.”

“You must be out of your mind.”

At the pool, he pulled off his linen shorts and prepared to take off his shoes. Her lower lip dropped, and she had to talk herself out of rubbing her hands over his perfect body. Thinking that she may have bitten off more than she could chew, she kicked off her flip flops, removed the fishnet top and started toward the pool, but he grabbed her. “Baby, these guys are having a field day.”

She winked at him. “What do you think the women sitting around here are looking at? Get the beam out of your own eye before you go after the one in mine. You’re practically nude.”

He winked back at her. “Like what you see?”