Page 52 of Revenge Honeymoon

He headed toward the door. “I never should’ve taken photos of you guys.”

Wait, he took photos of Rubyandher?

Gulp.

Emily eyed her discarded bikini for a second time.

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Ruby said in an expressionless voice.

As Emily watched Max head out the door and possibly out of her life, she panicked. “Wait!” Oh, God, where did she put it? Was it in the closet? Under the bed? “Your jacket.”

His figure disappeared from view. The door drifted closed.

On the back of the door it hung.

“Oh.” Emily lifted a limp hand and touched the sleeve. “He forgot it.”

Ruby let out a sigh. “We can leave it at the Guest Services desk.” She scooped up damp pool towels, dumped them in a pile in the bathroom, and then carried the tray of empty plates and set it on top of the dresser. “He seemed like such a nice guy, too.”

But he was!

It was all a mistake.

He’d been trying to explain, but Ruby wouldn’t let him.

The ship jolted sideways. Emily stumbled. Her stomach fluttered uncomfortably. “Whoa.”

Ruby steadied herself by grabbing the door frame of the bathroom. “I thought big cruise ships were smoother than this.”

The ship rolled to the other side.

“You think I can shower while this is going on?” The cream was starting to itch. Or was it the sunburn? It was easier to think about mundane things rather than reflect on what just happened with Max.

* * *

“Idiot.” Max banged his hand against the wall by the elevator buttons. He’d screwed up royally with Ruby—and by extension Emily.

A couple walking hand-in-hand came around the corner, saw Max’s hand slam the wall a second time, and then chose the stairs instead.

He’d better watch out or his behavior would get back to Sylvia. The last thing he needed was another surprise assignment from the ambitious cruise director. Next she’d have him photographing diners during dinner service in a monkey suit.

Earlier, he’d noticed another photographer walking the floor while he ate alone. A younger, nerdier version of himself in uniform.

Would he be reduced to that kind of work after he returned to Florida? His failed show was supposed to pay his car payment next month.

Penelope had probably moved on to one of her New York hedge fund friends. He’d been introduced to them a half a dozen times over the last nine months. Men who were wealthier, more confident, and more successful than he could ever be.

The elevator door opened. The ship rolled to one side, and he stumbled inside.

Where was he even going? His cabin was right down the hall from Emily and Ruby.

He pressed Deck One. The lowest accessible deck for the guests. Maybe he belonged in the crew area. Below decks. Clearly, he didn’t fit in with the regular guests.

If only he had the words to explain to Ruby. The twins he’d photographed turned out to be the MacPherson twins—members of the family who owned MacPherson Cruises. The photo the twin sisters liked wasn’t raunchy or revealing. It was Ruby in her bikini top and board shorts, holding a margarita and smiling. He’d captured a moment of pure joy. Maybe she hadn’t even been aware of it at the time. The incredible lighting due to the cloudy sky had made her outfit pop against the white-and-blue background of the pool deck.

The twins, who knew about Sylvia’s marketing proposal, had been entranced by the photo and had asked him all about the girl in it. Who was she? Had she modeled before? Was this a candid shot or something he’d arranged? Did he think she’d say yes to their request? Could he convince her to sign a release form?

Maybe they even mentioned something about a longer-term contract.

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