Burn

She pulled on the almost-knee-length coverup that made her bathing suit perfectly acceptable for lunch, and stepped into her sequined beach thongs. Cael put on his shirt and buttoned it up. Thank God. She could breathe easier now, even though a part of her wished he never put on a shirt. The important thing was to not let him see how he affected her.

Linda and Nyna were having lunch in The Club, one of the casual indoor restaurants. They were shown to a table for four near the center of the room. The two older women seemed to have made acquaintance with almost everyone in the restaurant, because their passage was slowed by people greeting them.

When they were seated, Nyna unfolded her napkin and said, "It’s so nice to see you two again. Of course, there’s so much to do, and the ship is so large, you might have been roaming the ship from stem to stern and we wouldn’t know it." Her smile made it clear that she thought exactly what Cael wanted everyone to think – that they were spending the cruise in her suite, and mostly in bed. That explained away all the hours he spent spying on their other neighbor.

"Have you been to the spa?" Linda asked, her question directed at Jenner.

"No, I’m afraid not. I’d planned to, but …" She shrugged, letting the sentence trail off. Let them draw their own conclusions. "Have you?"

"Twice." Linda grinned. "The masseur is very good. You should make an appointment."

"I don’t think so," Cael drawled, and both women laughed.

Nyna said, "I prefer the yoga classes. You should join me in the morning. It’s a wonderful way to start the day."

"I’d love that," said Jenner, who sincerely could use something, anything, to help ward off cabin fever. Before Cael could come up with a plausible reason why she couldn’t, she turned to him and put on her most innocent face. "You should come with me," she invited. "Yoga would be so good for your bad back."

He started to shake his head. "I don’t think – "

"You have a bad back?" asked Nyna. "Jenner’s right, you know. Yoga does wonders for that. What sort of problems do you have?"

"It’s a pain in my lower back," he said, looking at Jenner instead of her. "Very low. And dead center."

Jenner’s chin wobbled with the effort it took her not to laugh. She reached out and laid her hand on his arm. "C’mon, give it a try. If it hurts too much, you can always stop. No one will hold a gun on you and force you to do anything you don’t want to do." Take that, sport, she thought. He could scarcely forbid her to attend the yoga class, not without making it appear that they were in a weird, sick kind of relationship, which wasn’t what he wanted. She was giving him what he wanted: the illusion of a relationship. It was fake, but he needed to realize that any relationship, fake or not, came with concessions.

"We’ll see," he finally growled.

"Tomorrow, then," Jenner said, turning to smile at Nyna. "What time are the classes?"

"I prefer the six a.m. class, with the sun just coming up. It’s wonderful."

When Jenner attended her yoga classes she always took the early ones, too, for just that reason. Cael, however, looked horrified, and all three women laughed at him.

A uniformed waiter took their orders. The two older women ordered the ubiquitous grilled chicken salad with dressing on the side. Jenner chose a BLT and fries. Cael ordered a cheeseburger and fries, but Jenner uttered a quick, horrified, "What?" and once again placed a caring hand on his arm, which she gently patted. "No, he won’t have that," she said to the waiter. "He’ll have the salad, as well. No dressing, cheese, or croutons. Please bring lemon wedges." The waiter didn’t question her order, and Cael was evidently too stunned to countermand her. She smiled. "Lemon juice makes a wonderful substitute for fatty dressing. Really, Cael, with your cholesterol, you shouldn’t eat red meat or fries at all. I don’t know what you were thinking."

"Neither do I," he said, his meaning clear to her, if not to the others.

They passed the rest of the meal in relative peace, even if Cael did glance longingly at her BLT and fries – but only once. Linda and Nyna both thought it was hilarious, that love influenced a bruiser like Cael to let himself be bossed around. He ate his salad, and Jenner figured it wasn’t the worst sacrifice he’d ever made in the name of getting what he wanted. If she could be a prisoner, he could eat a salad. That didn’t even come close to evening the scale. But for the first time since stepping aboard the Silver Mist, she truly enjoyed a meal. She ate well, and didn’t once feel as if she was going to choke. She actually tasted the food on her plate, especially the fries, which she made a subtle production of enjoying.

The meal came to a close and conversation began to morph into comments about what they were about to do, which were meant as a gentle way of parting company. Cael’s beautiful manners were still holding up but Jenner could almost feel the tension rolling off him – he was so ready to escape before she did something else to him. Served him right.

As she was placing her napkin on the table, Frank Larkin walked in. She didn’t spot him immediately, but she was so attuned to Cael that she felt the abrupt focus of his attention shift and she automatically looked around to see what had gotten his attention.

Most people in the restaurant looked at Larkin, so she wasn’t doing anything unusual. If was the same as if they’d been in Hollywood and Spielberg had walked in. Larkin wasn’t a celebrity, but he was a mover and shaker, with access to incredible power over and above what his own monumental fortune gave him. He didn’t take a table, but strolled through the restaurant speaking to particular passengers. From what Jenner could tell, he gave his attention to the richest, most powerful men in the place. No women seemed to be worthy. Her radar pinged again as she picked up an almost indiscernible air of contempt about him.