Before I can finish with “like me,” he interrupts.
“We get the passenger manifest two days before every cruise,” he says, his eyes meeting mine, a slight flush of pink coloring his tan cheeks. “I recognized your name at the hotel bar. I knew who you were. I knew you’d be on this cruise.”
I nod slowly, understanding him a little better. “You could have told me.”
He shrugs. “I was enjoying you.”
“Until you weren’t.”
“You don’t know me, Yara Marino,” he says, his eyes flashing.
He’s beautiful and sexy and one of the only people close to my age on this ship. Generally speaking, I would have pursued him for a fling. Why not spice up my exotic getaway with a hot tryst, right? And with the right amount of pressure and temptation, I’m sure Rio would have eventually given in. But my father’s face flashes before my eyes, and it reminds me that I’m not in Brazil to play games with gorgeous strangers. I’m here in honor of my father—to say goodbye to him in the place he called home before anywhere else—and I don’t need the distraction of a certain Mr. Gabriel while I do that.
“That’s probably for the best,” I tell him honestly, my tone gentle. “It would have been an awkward cruise if we’d...” I chuckle softly, my shoulders hugging my ears for a moment before relaxing. “So... thank you—for saving us both from an embarrassing week.”
His face straightens, and I think maybe, for a split second, I see therealRio without his impressively perfected mask of charm and flirting. “No problem.”
“You make a very good drink,” I tell him, taking a sip, then slipping down from the barstool.
“Just doing my job,” he tells me, searching my face as though I’ve surprised him, as though I’m new to him.
And maybe I am a little.
And maybe a little to me, too.
CHAPTER 4
As fate would haveit, I’m seated at dinner with the Schlemmers and their traveling companions, the Markmans, who are also from Athens, Ohio.
The Schlemmers work as professors at Ohio University, while the Markmans own a bed and breakfast near the school. They’ve been friends for years and communicate with a shorthand mostly lost on me, though Harvey Schlemmer eventually seems to remember I’m seated beside him.
“I’m ignoring you,” he says sheepishly. “Forgive me.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I say.
“We live nearby the Markmans, but we don’t get together that often. These trips are how we catch up. We’ve traveled together for years.”