didn’t usually share with a complete stranger. The back of her neck, the narrow cave between her breasts, that space where her shoulder blades met.
“I’d hoped to catch a mermaid on this cruise, but I didn’t expect it to happen so quickly.”
“What?”
“A mermaid,” he said. “Actually, to be more specific, a seawitch.”
She hadn’t meant for her fist to land on her cocked hip, but there it was. “Excuse me?”
He chuckled and placed both hands in front of his body. “No offense. A seawitch isn’t . . . well, it’s not what you’re thinking . . . at least, what I assume you’re thinking if the scowl on your face is any indication.”
Megan narrowed her gaze, but more out of intrigue than anger.
Handsome talked on. “Surely you’ve heard about Aquanna, the seawitch. Half human, half mermaid. Beauty of the depths?”
She tilted her head, curious as a cat, and wondered if tall, hunky guys like this were stationed at various spots on the ship to rescue damsels in distress then call them names. This would make some story back home. Yeah, I met a cute guy. He rescued me from my own hair and called me a witch . Of course, she intended to go home with a much more brilliant story than that. And then she realized maybe . . . just maybe . . . this was the beginning of that story. “Aqua who?”
He chuckled, sliding his hands into his khaki shorts. “Aquanna. The seawitch some people claim to have seen while aboard the ship.”
“Oooooh.” One thing Megan loved was a good story, and fairy tales were the best. She took a moment to examine the tall stranger. Smooth, no doubt. But also with a Midwestern ruggedness about him. A tiny scar—barely visible—marred his chin, and was there a faint hint of a Southern accent in his tone? “And you hoped to see her?”
He looked out over the water. “I’m keeping my eyes peeled.”
Her heart beat a little faster. “Can you tell me the story?”
His gaze pinned her, and the lightness of the moment faded to something deeper, something stronger. She was a ship being tossed at sea, her equilibrium lost in those eyes that had been bright one moment and were filled with depth and mystery the next. The tiny flecks in his irises flashed like a promise. Or perhaps a warning.
“I’ll tell you at dinner,” he whispered.
Megan drew her bottom lip into her mouth and bit down. The motion wasn’t lost on him and her flesh prickled at the way his eyes dropped to her lips at her movement. Her mind rushed forward to a newspaper announcement she was already writing . . . the couple met aboard Emerald Princess while cruising to the Caribbean. A minor mishap and a dashing rescue and the two spent the entire cruise toge ther. Megan Cooper and Richar d—insert last name here— will be wed at—insert such and such a time at such and such a place. Oh yes, it was perfect. As long as Handsome’s name was Richard.
“Dinner?” she echoed, not knowing what else to say.
He nodded. “At Sabatini’s. Do you like Italian?”
But what if his name wasn ’ t Richard? “I’m pretty fond of any and all kinds of food. Except Brussels sprouts. Just can’t go there.”
“So, we’ll meet at Sabatini’s at seven? You have my word as a gentleman there will be no Brussels sprouts.”
Megan pulled a hand to her mouth, chewed her index fingernail. “What’s your name?”
His eyes narrowed playfully. “If I tell you, it will ruin the mystique.”
“If I don’t show up, that will ruin the mystique.”
He chuckled. “True. My name is Alexander.”
Her heart dropped. “Alexander . . .” she drew the word out so he could fill in the rest.
“I’ll tell you at dinner.”
She cocked her hip again. “Alexander Richards?”
His brow quirked a frown. “Dinner. Seven o’clock. Sabatini’s.” He started to walk away.
She called after him. “Don’t you want to know my name?”
He half turned and glanced back like a male model on a photo shoot.
She