Page 47 of The CEO

Her disbelieving glare could’ve created an iceberg. “Why do you think?”

Her clipped response didn’t alter his guarded expression. This was a waste of time and the sooner she made it to the sanctity of her cabin, ripped of this dress, and slipped into her comfy cotton PJs, the happier she’d be.

He dragged a hand through his hair, and muttered an expletive. “I’ve made a mess of this.”

Also-freaking-lutely. And while every self-preservation mechanism insisted she make a run for it, she couldn’t help but wonder why he’d reacted that way.

“What’s going on? I knew there was something wrong the second you saw me.”

His remorseful grimace didn’t quell the rolling, rollicking waves swilling in her belly, making her nauseous while the three metre swells buffeting the ship didn’t.

“I over-reacted. Your transformation took me by surprise.”

Glancing down at her dress, remembering the shock of seeing her expertly made up face in the mirror after Mavis had worked her magic, she shook her head. “There has to be more to it.”

“There isn’t.” He shrugged, his shoulders impossibly broad in the tux he wore as well as his uniform. “Don’t you get it? I like the fact you don’t go for all the artificial stuff most women do.”

“You mean I’m plain?”

Ironic, she’d never felt so beautiful, so transformed, and he preferred simple old Lana.

Tipping up her chin, he searched her face for…what? Proof his opinion mattered to her? A telltale sign what he said had cut deep?Whatever he was looking for, he wouldn’t find it. She’d become an expert at hiding her feelings from a young age, had fooled her dad into believing she didn’t care about his string of women, had convinced Beth she was happy being a frumpy nerd when in fact she longed to be as gorgeous and confident and outgoing as her cousin.

“I mean I prefer the real you, the woman who captured my attention the first second she fell at my feet.”

“You wish.” Her mouth twitched at the memory of their first meeting. “Though I guess you’re right, technically.”

He trailed a finger down her cheek, soft, sensitive. “So what’s with the war paint?”

“Don’t you know?”

Surely her dramatic eyes, her contoured cheeks, and her pearly pink lips along with the sexy dress were enough of a sign?

Confusion creased his brow. “Know what?”

“I did all this for you.” She gestured at her dress, her hair, her face. “To show you there’s more to me than just a brain and a smart mouth.”

His frown deepened. “But I already know there’s more to you. You’re a gym instructor for starters.”

She had to tell him, all of it. Now that she’d fallen for him, hoped for a future with him, he had to know.

Besides, it wasn’t like she’d deliberately lied to him, she’d just let him assume she was a trendy fitness freak rather than a boring, conservative curator.

“Actually, I’m not an aerobics instructor.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t work at a gym, I’m just a member.”

His jaw clenched. “Then where do you work?”

“At a leading museum in Sydney. I’m head curator there.”

His muttered expletive had her repressing a smile, considering she’d probably just landed herself in a big steaming pile of the stuff.

“Tell me you’re a qualified aerobics instructor and I haven’t hired someone liable to send my insurance premiums to the bottom of the ocean?”

“Don’t worry, I’m qualified. It’s a hobby.”

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