Page 30 of Revenge Honeymoon

A cabin door opened three doors down.

Max!

A ripple of excitement rolled through her.

"Is this really your cabin?" Emily asked as the luscious photographer turned at her words. "I can't believe we didn't figure it out last night."

How was she going to sleep tonight, knowing she was separated from Max by only a few walls?

His dark hair, still damp from the shower, glistened under the hallway lighting. "Emily, good morning." He flashed his perfect teeth and pointed down the hall. "Since my room is closer to that stairwell, I came from that direction last night."

Emily pointed in the opposite direction. "We came from that way. That's hilarious."

"Where's Ruby?" His brows knit together.

Of course he'd ask about her lovely friend.

"She's sleeping in."

"Guess those umbrella drinks caught up to her."

Emily nodded. "Yeah, she was celebrating a little too much."

Max held out an elbow, "Join me for breakfast?"

Butterflies filled her stomach. "Definitely." She linked arms with him and sashayed down the hall to the stairwell on Cloud Nine.

She could pretend she was Mrs. Max Keeling for an hour, couldn't she?

"And then we could talk about that boudoir photo shoot. Seemed as if Ruby wasn't interested...?"

Emily's knees grew weak. Her heart pounded. Every nerve fiber in her body sang like a church choir on Easter morning. With the usual awkwardness that Emily Small could not escape she asked, "Do I need to bring my own, you know, sexy outfits?"

“Oh, you were serious?” Max’s face reddened, and he slowed his steps. “Because I...well, how do I say this?”

Emily swallowed and grimaced.

No surprise. Why would Max the Marvelous want to see mini-rhino, Emily, decked out in some godawful silk confection that emphasized her worst features? Chunky thighs. Massive cleavage. Maybe a back or side roll.

Yes, who would want to see that sprawled across a couch or bed?

She laughed it off. “You thought I wanted to do it? Really?” Would he notice the fake quality of her ha-ha-ha? It sounded wooden and forced to her own ears. “Boudoir, schmoudoir. What dumb-dumb would want to do something so...sleazy?”

“Sexy,” Max filled in at the same time.

Wait, what? Sexy?

Did he say ‘sexy’?

“You think boudoir photos are sleazy?” His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. “I mean, I think some women find them empowering. But I see what you mean. Sort of like soft porn, or whatever. Male fantasy crap.” He pulled at the collar of his T-shirt.

Was there a sheen of sweat on his brow? Was handsome should-be-more-confident-than-Harry-Styles nervous? What to make of this?

She patted his arm with her free hand. “I only meant, sometimes it can be so revealing, and I don’t want you to be embarrassed. We hardly know each other.” Okay, she saved it, right? They were strangers. Even if she had a crazy idea in her mind that somehow Max would be so overcome with passion for her, the photo shoot would turn into something more, she wasn’t his type. No way. Not in a million years. Cuckoo thinking.

As they reached the buffet restaurant, he let out a massive sigh. “Exactly. I wouldn’t want you to be...uncomfortable.”

In front of them, a stream of cruisers entered the massive buffet area on the main deck of the ship. After breakfast, Emily could head straight to the shops in the ‘mall’ on the same deck and find that bathing suit. Oh, and the underwear. Better than washing out the few pairs she had in the micro sink in their cabin.

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