Sweet Promise Page 4

  Her hazel eyes flashed fire at him. She started to say more, sputtered again, then clasped her jaws together and stomped off.

  Sean stared after her. Had he been wrong? He frowned and shook his head. It didn't seem likely. If she'd only wanted to enjoy the cruise, then why seek him out? Why choose this particular cruise?

  Stuffing his hands in his pockets, Sean began to stroll toward the bow of the ship, his expression pensive. A jerk? And egotistical? Is that how she really thinks of me? He didn't know whether to be angry, relieved or insulted. A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he realized that he felt a bit of all three.

  Or had her tirade just been a face-saving tactic? Then again, maybe Joanna had been right, Sean admitted with a self-deprecating chuckle. Maybe he was simply jumping to conclusions because he was an arrogant, egotistical, insufferable bastard. Maybe... but he didn't think so.

  What other possible reason could she have for following me?

  Sean wandered aimlessly around the ship, a jumble of thoughts running through his mind: Joanna, the uncertainty of his future, his wants, the decision he was going to have to make soon. They taunted him, bedeviled him, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't tune them out.

  When Sean had made a circuit of the deck he was on, he climbed the stairs to the one above. As he neared the bow, the heavy, pulsating rock music pouring from the Zodiac Lounge drew him, and he went in, pausing just inside the door to look around.

  The walls vibrated with the pounding explosion of sound produced by the band, and on the dance floor couples gyrated wildly. The floor looked "as though it were made of thick glass. Beneath it, colored lights flashed at random in time to the primitive beat, eerily illuminating the dancers.

  It could be an "in" spot anywhere, Sean thought with a touch of bored cynicism. Dimly lit. Frenetic. Crowded with people who were working hard at having a good time.

  Short-skirted waitresses bustled between the closely spaced tables. Laughter, raised voices, the clink of glassware, all blended into a dull roar that competed with the blaring musk.

  Across the room Sean spotted Gloria, sitting at a table with Tony Farrell and several other people. He considered joining them, but after only a few seconds turned and left. For some reason he just wasn't in the mood for partying.

  Pausing by the rail, Sean looked at the peaceful movements of the moon-drenched ocean and felt inexplicably sad. Inexplicably lonely. Which is stupid, he told himself, considering the hundreds of people on this ship. One in particular who'd be more than willing to keep you company.

  But the strange discontent that he'd felt for months settled around him like a lead cape, causing a queer ache in his chest, and Sean continued to stare out at the spill of liquid silver on the heaving water. Finally, he pushed away from the rail, went inside and loped down two flights of stairs.

  With his gaze fixed on the multicolored carpet, his hands stuffed in his pockets, he sauntered down the long companionway toward his cabin. "Helluva way to start a vacation," he muttered under his breath.

  * * *

  Joanna paced the floor of her sitting room with jerky, agitated steps.

  "I don't want to spend my time dodging love-struck young girl." Sean's words ran tauntingly through her mind. Her jaw clenched tighter and an angry sound, very much like a growl, vibrated in her throat.

  "I don't believe it. I just don't believe this is happening," she muttered to the ceiling, throwing her arms wide. "He actually thinks that I'm infatuated with him. That... that conceited, vain... Romeo!"

  But even as the words came out of her mouth, Joanna knew they weren't true. Though females were drawn to Sean like flies to honey, he was no womanizer. Sean admired and respected women, enjoyed them— some intimately, true—but he didn't use them. And if ever a man had a right to be conceited about his looks, it was Sean. Yet he seemed supremely unaware, or at least uncaring, that he was every woman's idea of a Greek god.

  Joanna stopped by one of the windows and gazed out at the moonlight dancing on the water. She took several slow, deep breaths, and after a moment began to calm, her anger draining away. In any case, she admitted reluctantly, it wasn't really Sean's masculine beauty that made feminine hearts flutter. It was that wicked grin and those damned bedroom eyes. That faintly reckless, devil-may-care aura about him. Joanna suspected that even if Sean were ugly as sin, he could still have his pick of women.

  Abandoning the view, Joanna sank down on the sofa, slipped out of her shoes and propped her feet on the marble-topped coffee table. The soft leather crackled as she leaned her head back and gazed up at the ceiling. How ironic that four years ago when she'd fancied herself madly in love with Sean he hadn't even guessed, and now that she was over all that foolishness, he was accusing her of falling for him. The ridiculousness of it made her chuckle.

  When she had made her plans it had never once occurred to her that he would think she was interested in him. But in all fairness, she admitted reluctantly, looking at it from Sean's point of view, she could understand how he could have misconstrued her actions.

  Somehow she was going to have to convince him otherwise. Not only was it embarrassing, it was a sure bet that as long as he thought she was chasing him she'd never convince him to run for office.

  As she had done countless times in the past few weeks, Joanna wondered at Sean's reluctance to commit himself. It wasn't like him at all. In his easygoing way, he was a decisive, determined man, and according to Matt, ever since coming to D.C. ten years ago, Sean had set his sights on eventually attaining a political office. Everything he'd done, everything he'd worked for, had been with that goal in mind.

  The time was ripe. Sean knew as well as she that you didn't just blithely say one day, "I think I'll run for office." You had to have backers with influence who could drop a few words in the right ears, do a little civilized arm-twisting, who had enough clout in both the public and private sectors to sway opinions and drum up the enormous amount of financial support it took to run a campaign. Newcomb and his group were offering that backing.

  So why was Sean hesitating?

  Impatiently, Joanna pushed aside the fruitless speculation. Unless she could convince Sean that she wasn't attracted to him romantically she didn't have a hope of finding out the answer to that question.

  Joanna searched for an explanation to give Sean for being on the trip, but after wrestling with the problem for several minutes she jerked to her feet and headed for the bedroom. The devil with subtlety. The first thing tomorrow morning I'm going to tell him the truth. Then maybe we can talk seriously about his political future.

  But to Joanna's disappointment, Sean did not put in an appearance in the dining room the next morning. The only company she had at the table for most of the meal was Mary and Charles Wright. The entire time she was eating Joanna kept one eye on the entrance and at the same time pretended to listen to Mary's friendly chatter. But there was no sign of Sean.

  As she sipped her after breakfast coffee, Tony Farrell slid into the chair next to Joanna, looking the worse for wear. Behind his fashionable glasses his eyes were bleary and bloodshot, and there was a decidedly sickly cast to his skin. Even his carefully styled hair was mussed at the sides, as though he'd been massaging his temples.

  "Sorry I'm late," he murmured, reaching eagerly for the cup of coffee the instant the waiter had filled it. "Gloria and I stayed at the Zodiac until almost two this morning and it was a bit difficult to get the old bod in motion."

  A curious feeling of relief flickered through Joanna. She had halfway suspected that after they had parted the night before Sean might have sought out Gloria. The chance that the woman might still be with him had been the only thing that prevented Joanna from knocking on his cabin door that morning.

  When Tony had drained his cup of coffee he noted the vacant chairs at their table and glanced around the elegant empty dining room. "It looks like I'm not the only one who slept late. Either that, or everyone else chose the breakf
ast buffet on deck."

  Joanna immediately gave herself a swift mental kick. She had forgotten all about the buffet.

  As quickly as good manners would allow, she finished her coffee, excused herself and headed outside.

  Stepping out into a brilliant world of blinding sunshine and vivid colors, Joanna squinted and shaded her eyes with her hand. The sky was a canopy of blue: perfect, flawless, so bright you could barely stand to look at it. The undulating ocean was several shades darker, touched here and there with frothy whitecaps. At the horizon, sea and sky blended together in a softly smudged line that made it difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. The white ship plowed sedately through the blue waters, creating more foaming waves at its bow and a wake that trailed behind like the lacy train on a bridal gown. Only the polished brass and wooden deck and the gay garb of the passengers added a dash of contrast to the great expanse of blue and white.

  Smiling, Joanna breathed deeply of sun and salt air and fished in the deep pocket on her wraparound skirt for her sunglasses. There was still a line of people at the buffet table, but Sean wasn't among them. Most of the tables scattered along the deck were filled with people enjoying their alfresco breakfast, and as she strolled toward the stern of the ship Joanna discreetly glanced at each of them.

  About halfway down the deck she spotted Susan and Bill Adamson, and to Joanna's surprise, Susan was holding in her lap a baby who looked to be about six months old.

  "Well, good morning, you two," Joanna greeted, stopping beside their table. "When you didn't show up in the dining room I thought maybe you had made the rounds with Tony and Gloria last night."

  At the sound of Joanna's voice the baby looked up and stared at her, her big blue eyes wide and unblinking. Her intent gaze did not waver even when Susan stuffed another spoonful of what looked like mashed banana into her mouth. Smiling, Joanna reached out and touched the wispy blond curl above the baby's ear. "And who is this little charmer?"

  "This is our daughter, Lori," Susan said distractedly, using the side of the spoon to rake the globs of food from around the rosebud mouth and stuff it back in. "Bill's mother was going to keep her while we took this cruise, but just a few hours before we were supposed to leave, she slipped on the stairs and broke her leg, so we had to bring Lori along."

  "It was either that, or miss it. It was too late to get a refund on our tickets," Bill added dejectedly.

  Susan looked up at Joanna with a wan smile. "Don't misunderstand. We love Lori dearly. It's just that this was supposed to be sort of a second honeymoon. Now we'll have to take turns sitting with her in the evening while the other one eats and sees the shows. We're going to try to take her with us when we go on the island tours, but if she gets too fussy one of us will have to stay on board and keep her."

  "Some honeymoon," Bill muttered morosely.

  "Couldn't you hire one of the crew to baby-sit for you?"

  "Oh, yes. That's what we did last night." Susan wiped the baby's mouth with a napkin and handed her a bottle of milk. Lori lay back in her mother's arms and sucked greedily, her unblinking stare still fixed on Joanna. "The trouble is, we can't afford to do that very often. We had to save for this trip for years, and I'm afraid we're on a very tight budget that just doesn't allow for baby-sitting."

  "That's too bad," Joanna said with genuine sympathy. "If there's anything I can do—"

  "No, no," Susan cut in quickly. "We wouldn't want to impose on anyone. And don't let us spoil your trip with our problems," she added with a bright smile. "We'll work something out."

  They talked desultorily for a few minutes more, but when Joanna spotted Sean leaving a table a few yards away, she excused herself and hurried after him.

  "Sean! Sean, may I speak with you a moment?"

  Sean turned, then groaned and looked disgusted when he saw who was calling him. "For Pete's sake, Joanna! Do we have to go through this again?"

  "But you don't understand. I didn't come on this cruise to try to attract you. I—"

  "Oh, Joanna, please," Sean pleaded wearily. "You aren't going to try again to make me believe that you're here just to enjoy yourself, are you? People in your set don't take cruises. They own their own yachts. Or if they don't, they have friends who do. We both know that if you got a sudden yen to cruise the Caribbean, all you would have to do is pick up the phone and call one of your jet-setting pals.''

  "Oh, but—"

  "Joanna, I don't want to hear it. Okay? Just back off and leave me alone."

  "Sean, if you'll only listen for a minute—" Joanna began again, but before she could utter another word Gloria glided up to Sean and linked her arm through his.

  "There, you are. I've been searching all over for you. The calypso band is setting up by the forward pool, and one of the cruise directors is going to give lessons in island dancing. I thought maybe I could talk you into joining me." Smiling persuasively, the redhead leaned against him, pressing the side of her breast against his arm, her eyes flashing an invitation of another sort. Sean responded with a lazy grin.

  "Lead the way, sweetheart," he drawled. "It sounds like fun." He turned his head and gave Joanna a pointed look. "Joanna and I were through talking anyway. I'm sure she'll excuse us."

  Numbly, Joanna watched them walk away, arm in arm. Without warning a strange, aching tightness gripped her chest, and to her horror, she felt tears sting her eyes. She turned away quickly and walked to the rail. Resting her forearms along the top, she leaned against it and lifted her face to the wind, blinking rapidly. She pressed her lips together and drew a deep breath, struggling to control the wayward wobble of her chin.

  This is silly, she told herself severely. For Pete's sake, there's no reason to get all teary and bent out of shape just because Sean won't talk to you? And so what if he's making time with that redhead? There's nothing new in that. Joanna stared at the smudged horizon and swallowed against the painful constriction in her throat. The stiff ocean breeze threaded through her hair, lifting and waving it like streamers of brown silk, and plastered her skirt against the front of her body. The thin cotton suggestively outlined the slender curves of hips and long shapely legs and flapped wildly behind her, snapping and cracking like a flag in the gusting wind.

  Joanna held herself stiffly, her chin tilted at a proud angle, but after a moment her shoulders sagged. It was pointless to deny it: Sean's attitude did bother her. But more than his refusal to speak to her, more than his obvious preference for Gloria, what really disturbed her were his remarks about her background.

  Not because they were unfair, but because at one time they would have Been right on target. As recently as four years ago, Joanna admitted with lingering self-disgust, she would have looked upon this cruise as entirely too plebeian, beneath even her consideration.

  Summers in the south of France or in Greece with her friend Irena or sailing the Mediterranean. Winters skiing in the Alps, and in between, flying trips to London or Rome or Madrid. That had been the pattern of her life. Her father had spoiled her outrageously. She had grown up so accustomed to having her own way she had not given a thought to the wants and needs of anyone else.

  Looking back on that time, Joanna was appalled. Her selfishness had nearly cost her mother the only love and true happiness she had ever known and had driven a wedge between them. Even so, it had taken a series of shocks and disillusionments before she'd finally accepted the truth: about her father, about her parents' marriage, but most of all, about herself.

  Joanna shook her head disbelievingly, her eyes full of regret. It all seemed so long ago. Sean, of course, really couldn't be faulted for his remarks. He had no way of knowing that she had turned her back on that life, that she had worked hard in school and now worked hard at a job, not because she had to but because she wanted to, that die rarely saw anyone from her old crowd.

  But Joanna wanted desperately for him to know. For some reason she didn't fully understand, Sean's good opinion was important to her. If she could just talk to h
im, convince him to accept Newcomb's offer and then give her a job, he'd see for himself that she had changed. Somehow, she had to make him listen.

  The ringing sounds of steel drums filled the air suddenly, their lilting rhythm at once soothing and stimulating. Joanna turned her head and looked toward the bow. As though drawn by a magnet, she began to stroll in that direction.

  Many people were swimming or just lounging around the pool, but an equal number were standing in a semicircle around the cruise director, who was moving to the calypso beat demonstrating the steps and body movements of the dance. There was a good deal of laughter and joking as the audience tried to mimic her.

  Joanna started to join the group, but thought better of it. Instead, she walked to one of the poolside lounges, stepped out of her sandals and removed her skirt. But as Joanna turned from hanging it over the back of the lounge, she found that Sean was watching her, and her stomach tightened into a knot.

  It wasn't the look of annoyance on his face that disturbed her. She had expected that. It was the way his dark gaze roamed slowly over her body, taking in the brief strapless playsuit. A feathery tingle raced over Joanna's skin as his eyes narrowed and lingered on her breasts, which were clearly outlined by the elasticized top, then slid downward over her narrow waist, the gentle flare of her hips and the long, curving length of her bare legs.

  Feigning indifference, Joanna stretched out on the lounge, oblivious to the admiring looks she was receiving from several other men around the pool. For the next half hour she sunbathed and pretended to doze, while watching Sean covertly through slitted eyes.

  It was her intention to corner Sean when the class broke up, but she never had a chance. The moment the band stopped playing he marched over to her. Before Joanna could even struggle to a sitting position Sean bent over, braced his arms on either side of the webbed lounge and brought his face down to within an inch of hers. His beautiful mouth was stretched into a dazzling smile, but his black eyes were snapping with anger as he said in a strained but soft voice, "Knock it off, Joanna. Because I'm warning you, if you don't, I just may turn you over my knee and give you the spanking you should have had years ago. Now be a good girl and stay out of my hair."