“I should hope you are,” she said. “Can’t have you disappointing all those legions of female fans you’ve accumulated already.”
“Doing my best, ma’am,” Dylan growled, and Michaela felt the deep rumble of his voice in the pit of her stomach. Be still, she scolded her nerves.
“It’s good for the passengers to have something to look at,” she said caustically. “It keeps them occupied.”
Dylan raised an eyebrow. “When should we start the dancing for the party?”
“I’ll just check with the band. If they’re ready, then we should probably get going.”
The band was ready, and Michaela headed back to her spot by the bar as the drummer’s sticks kicked in one-two-three-four and a jazzy number filled the outdoor area. She’d only just made it through the crowd when she heard “Come on then” muttered in her ear and Dylan grabbed her hand, whirling her into his arms exactly as she had imagined.
To start with, her feet refused to obey her, and she stood on Dylan’s toes. He just grimaced. “Stand up here, then,” he said. She almost squealed as he lifted her up and set her feet down on top of his. “There we go.” Smirking, he whisked her around the floor. She had to work hard not to let on how ragged her breath was. If he knew the effect he had on her—no, it didn’t even bear thinking about. Letting him lead, she put on her best smile.
Well, I can’t cause a scene in front of the passengers.
Still, she wouldn’t let him think she was enjoying herself. “Shouldn’t you be toying with your fan club?” she yelled in his ear, over the sound of the band.
“I don’t like to play with my toys in public.”
Huh. How did he make her despise and desire him all in one breath? As they spun, she breathed in his soapy scent, amused by the hint of floral bouquet from his roommate’s shampoo. “You really should get your own shampoo,” she said unconsciously.
“Bit bloody flowery, isn’t it?” He looked down into her eyes, and she was startled again by just how brilliant his gaze was. The heat from his hands on the small of her back sent warm shivers up her spine, so she arched it just a little further. The movement brought her closer to his chest, and he grinned at her, far too triumphant for her liking, before spinning the two of them again. Michaela felt the looks she was getting from the female guests but shrugged them off.
Just for this dance.
“You move well,” Dylan growled in her ear.
“You mean you move well,” she replied, anxious at the effect his mouth was having so close to her ear and acutely aware of what he’d said yesterday about her dancing.
“No, really. I can feel the rhythm in you.” She smelled something else then, a base note. Something musky and earthy—his personal scent.
All too soon, the song finished. “Now you have to face them,” she said. “To your fans! Go.” She gave him a little push, hoping the frustration in his face reflected at least a tiny bit of regret at having to be parted from her, despite what he’d said to Jake.
“Madam?”
Michaela didn’t have long to gaze at Dylan’s departing buttocks, because another man had his hand out, ready for her. Although she usually managed to shy away from dancing with the passengers—always able to rely on her very busy and important job to take her elsewhere—she could hardly turn this offer down when she’d been dancing with Dylan only seconds ago.
The man whirled her around with ample ability, but Michaela couldn’t help but compare his style to Dylan’s, and his face had none of the dancer’s immediate appeal. He could lead adequately, though. Michaela found she didn’t stumble or step on his toes at all. But his skill didn’t stop her from promptly and charmingly bowing out of the next dance when the song finished. She hurried to the bar to get an overview of the whole dance floor.
“Everyone seems to be having a great time.” Felicity liked to perch on a particular stool during the poolside parties. Usually Michaela liked nothing better than to perch with her, watching over things and listening to Felicity’s running commentary.
Tonight Michaela merely nodded, looking out in the crowd for Dylan. “Helps having a new entertainment crew. They’ve got boundless energy when they’re so new. Look at the lot of them.”
“It helps having an Adonis to keep all the ladies happy,” Felicity drawled. “Poor guy.”
Michaela spotted Dylan. “He’s hardly suffering. Look at him playing the crowd. I don’t think we need to worry about him.” He was dancing with an elderly woman, her face flushed and her hair a frizz, but the smile on her face said she was having the time of her life. The two of them were surrounded, a circle of women looking on eagerly. “Jesus, they look like they want to eat him.”
“They probably do. It’s the same downstairs. Mr. Chocolate has his very own fan club crushing the purser desk. It’s causing a bottleneck, ‘cause no one wants to be served by anyone else. We might have to throw some acid at his face or something.”
Michaela snorted. “Maybe you need to take him off the desk and put him on backroom duty.”
“Now you’re talking. He could be my paperwork slave.”
Michaela laughed again. Ah, Felicity was good for her sanity. Her insinuations about Mr. Chocolate were part of her charm, and anyway, it relieved the tension.
Tension. Was that what this was? Just a buildup of tension from being alone for so long? Michaela examined her body, which was still thrumming from the contact with Dylan. Maybe the advice he’d given her came from personal experience, and she should give him enough rope to hang himself.
Stop it, she told her body firmly.
She sat with Felicity for the rest of the band’s set, sipping at the chilled lemon water she drank when she was on duty. It was difficult to see any stars in the open sky above them, as the lights flickering over the pool broke a hole in the night’s darkness. But the sense of being outside at sea was still very apparent, and the warm breeze was delicious. The band started to wind down. “Well, that’s it for tonight, at least.”
“That’s it for you, maybe. This lot are going to keep the bar staff going until the wee small hours,” Felicity said. And it was true. There was no sign of the crowd dispersing. “It looks like our favorite dancer has no plans on slowing down, either.”
Dylan approached them and held out his hand. “Michaela, I promised the ladies I’d demonstrate a rumba for them.”