Sweet Promise (3 page)

The smile that wreathed Matt's features was warm and loving and heartstoppingly tender, transforming his rugged face into gentleness. "Come in, sweetheart," he said in that soft voice that was reserved just for Claire, holding out his hand to her.

An indulgent smile curved Joanna's mouth as she watched Claire give her husband a kiss, then perch rather precariously on the arm of his chair. She looped one arm across his broad shoulders. The other she placed on the turgid roundness of her protruding belly, in an unconscious protective gesture.

"So, what's going on?"

Matt reached up and tweaked one of Claire's short blond curls. "Joanna thinks I ought to persuade Sean to run for Congress. I was just about to explain to her I can't do that. I've already pointed out to Sean all the reasons why he should seriously consider running. I'm afraid that's all I can do. It's his decision to make."

"Oh, but—"

"Matt's right, Joanna," Claire said quickly, cutting off her daughter's protest. "It's his life and his future. And Sean wouldn't appreciate our interference."

Disappointment poured through Joanna. She had been hoping to get her mother's support. She knew that it was almost impossible for Matt to deny Claire anything, especially now. But it was obvious from their expressions that she was wasting her time.

Still, she wasn't going to give up. Rising to her feet, Joanna squared her shoulders determinedly. "Maybe. But someone has to talk some sense into that hard-headed Irishman. I can't just let him throw away a chance like this."

Without another word, she walked out, and Claire looked at Matt, her expression a mixture of bemusement and worry.

Matt grinned. "She wants a job on Sean's staff," he explained. "And you know Joanna. Once she's got the bit between her teeth there's no stopping her."

"Yes, I know," Claire murmured, nibbling worriedly on her lower lip. "Oh, Matt, maybe we should try. Joanna can be so headstrong. She has a tendency to just rush into things without thinking. If she angers Sean—"

"I know, I know. But, darling, you can't have it both ways. You've been wanting her to show some of her old spunk and enthusiasm. Well, now she has." A speculative gleam entered Matt's eyes as he stared at the doorway through which Joanna had just sailed, and slowly an amused smile curved his mouth. "It should be interesting, though. I've always wondered what happened when an irresistible force met an immovable object."

Chapter Two

T
he moment Joanna stepped on board someone called out "Smile," and a flashbulb went off. She stiffened and glared at the photographer, but in the next instant realized that they were taking pictures of everyone as they came on the ship.

Feeling foolish, Joanna handed the purser her boarding pass. Good grief, you're getting paranoid, she chastised silently. But she knew her reaction was a conditioned reflex, the result of a lifetime of having flashbulbs go off in her face. It was part of the price she had paid for having a famous mother whom the public idolized... the part that Joanna hated.

"Ah, Miss Andrews. We're honored to have you with us," the purser said as he checked the slip she'd handed him against the list on his clipboard. Glancing back over his shoulder, he motioned for the young man just behind him to step forward. "This is Riley, Miss Andrews. He'll see you to your suite. Please let us know if there is anything you need."

With a smile and a quick thank-you, Joanna turned to follow the white^jacketed young man.

They passed through what seemed like miles of carpeted passageways with literally hundreds of doors opening off them and climbed several flights of stairs. Within minutes Joanna was thoroughly lost... and thoroughly intrigued. There was an air of excitement and anticipation among the other passengers and crew members that was infectious, and with every step she felt a growing eagerness, a sense of adventure. Joanna had come on this trip for a purpose, but now, for the first time, it occurred to her that there was no reason why she couldn't enjoy herself while she was about it.

Her guide kept up a steady chatter, pointing out the main dining room and the shopping arcade, the gym and the various clubs. They passed dozens of people, all anxiously peering at the numbers on the cabin doors and checking them against the keys they held in their hands. A wry grimace curled Joanna's mouth as she noticed that she seemed to be the only one with a personal escort. She couldn't help but wonder if she was receiving this preferential treatment because she had been recognized.

Her mother had grown up in the spotlight, the daughter of one of the country's most powerful senators, and later, the wife of another. Joanna had always detested the lack of privacy that went with her mother's fame, and knowing that, Claire had done her best to shield her from the constant publicity. Still, there had been enough over the years that Joanna was often recognized. And the result was nearly always gaping stares or fawning attention.

"Here we are," her guide announced when he finally stopped before a cabin door and opened it with a flourish.

The moment Joanna stepped inside and looked around at her plush accommodations, her uneasy suspicion faded, and she chided herself for her conceit. No doubt anyone who booked one of these luxury suites received the royal treatment.

It was gorgeous. And huge. She hadn't expected that, even knowing that there were only two of these deluxe suites on board.

She had expected round portholes. Instead, there were two large rectangular windows. Between them a tufted brown leather sofa sat along the outer wall. Flanking h were Queen Anne end tables, which held exquisite lamps made of brass and polished walnut. At right angles to the sofa were two matching brown leather easy chairs and in the center of the grouping stood an oval, marble-topped coffee table. A copper bowl in the center of the table contained an arrangement of dried flowers in autumn colors that blended with the rust carpet and draperies and the soft rust, green-and-yellow stripes in the wall covering.

Through the large windows, Joanna could see the sunlight sparkling on the waters of Miami harbor. As the steward bustled, pointing out the small refrigerator and bar and rattling off information about the temperature controls, Joanna walked to one of the windows and watched another cruise ship glide gracefully by, heading out to sea.

"And through here is your bedroom," the young man announced.

Joanna turned in time to see him throw open the double doors set in one of the side walls. Bemused, she wandered over and peeked in, her eyes widening at the sight of the king-size bed and the long vanity console. The color scheme was ivory and pale green, but this room, too, was flooded with light from two large windows.

"It's lovely," Joanna said, and the young man beamed proudly.

They heard a noise in the passageway, and he turned and headed for the door. "That's the porter with your luggage. I'll get it for you."

When he had carried her bags into the bedroom he told her there would be a lifeboat drill shortly before they got under way. "Just follow the instructions here on the back of the door," he said as he turned to leave. "They tell where your lifeboat station is and how to reach it. When you hear the announcement over the intercom just grab a life jacket out of the closet and take the forward stairs to the deck above."

As the door closed behind him Joanna stood in the middle of the sitting room, her eyes growing wide with panic. A lifeboat drill? Oh, Lord. She hadn't counted on that. She had planned to remain in her suite until they were well out at sea.

Joanna chewed worriedly at her lower lip. It was entirely possible that she might run into Sean. With a bit of discreet probing, she had discovered when she booked the cruise that his cabin was just down the passageway from hers. It stood to reason that his lifeboat station would be close by also.

Maybe I could just ignore the announcement and stay here.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous, Joanna," she muttered impatiently the moment the thought flickered through her mind. "They would just come looking for you if you didn't show up." She walked into the bedroom and snapped open the case that lay on the luggage rack. Scooping up a stack of frothy lingerie, she began to move methodically back and forth between the open case and the built-in dresser. "Besides," she said stoutly as her normal self-confidence reasserted itself. "With hundreds of passengers on board, surely you can lose yourself in the crowd for a few minutes."

As she hung her clothes in the roomy closet behind the mirror-covered sliding doors, Joanna glanced around at her opulent surroundings and grimaced. She hadn't planned on booking the most expensive suite on the ship, but it had been the only thing available when she'd made her reservation.

Joanna stopped in the act of hanging up a cotton sundress and giggled as she recalled her conversation with Senator Hartwell five days ago. He'd been enthusiastic about her plan, so much so that in a fit of generosity he had offered to pay for her cruise.

"It's a good thing I didn't take him up on his offer," Joanna thought, chuckling. "He'd have had a fit when he found out how much this suite costs."

She wasn't too thrilled about it herself. She could afford it easily, of course, thanks to the generous trust funds both her father and grandfather had set up for her, but under normal circumstances, she, would not have booked anything so grand just for herself.

Fifteen minutes later a repetitive gong signal came over the ship's intercom followed by a calm voice instructing everyone to go to their lifeboat stations. Joanna's heart skipped a beat and she hesitated for an instant. Then, abandoning her half-empty suitcase, she snatched the garish orange vest from the closet and hurried out the door.

By the time she reached the stairwell the companion-way was filled with people, all wearing the bulky Mae West life preservers. Most were laughing and joking as they trouped up to the next deck. Joanna joined the throng, confident that her presence would go undetected in the crush.

That confidence slipped a notch, however, when she reached her lifeboat station. For there at the next station, not ten yards away, stood Sean.

With a start, Joanna ducked behind a large man whose girth almost equaled his height. She stood very still, her heart pounding wildly against her chest. After a moment, she very cautiously leaned to one side and peeked around him.

Surprise, a flicker of annoyance, then wry amusement chased one after the other across Joanna's face as she stared at Sean. She had been frightened for nothing. He wasn't even aware of her. In fact, she told herself with a twisted, self-mocking smile, she could probably strip naked and run up and down the deck screaming, and he still wouldn't notice her.

Dressed in navy slacks and a short sleeved pale blue shirt, Sean stood leaning over a voluptuous redhead, one arm braced against the bulkhead above her shoulder. A rakish smile curved his mouth. His handsome face wore a look of undisguised male interest: predatory, and sensual, his drowsy black eyes hot and sexy.

Joanna looked at the redhead and sighed. Typically, the woman was gazing up at him with a besotted look on her face, hanging on his every word.

A surge of irritation rippled through Joanna as she watched Sean throw his head back and roar with laughter over something the woman had said, but she quickly squashed it. It wasn't the redhead's fault, she reminded herself. Sean always had that effect on women. It was those cleanly chiseled features, that lazy, heart-stopping smile. And, of course, that devastating aura of sheer maleness.

Plus, Sean had a secret weapon: he liked women. Genuinely liked them. And he made no secret of it. Old, young, short, tall, silly, serious. He found them all delightful and utterly fascinating. What woman could resist that? Certainly none that she knew of, Joanna admitted grudgingly. Sean managed to make every woman he met feel special, and they adored him for it.

And, as astonishing as it was, if what Joanna had heard was true, he even managed to remain friends with his former lovers.

Ship personnel at each lifeboat station began to call off the names on their rosters, and when her own was called Joanna jumped and darted another apprehensive glance at Sean before answering. But she needn't have worried. He was oblivious to everything but the curvaceous redhead.

Throughout the entire spiel on safety and emergency procedures Joanna kept her gaze trained on Sean and listened with only half an ear, torn between disgust and amusement as she watched him flirt.

At last the drill was over, and the groups around the lifeboats began to break up. Sean raised his head and glanced distractedly in her direction. Joanna doubted that he could pick her out in the crowd, but when his gaze rested briefly on her, she smiled and turned back* toward the stairs.

No sense tempting fate, she told herself as she melted into the throng. A blast from the ship's whistle and a slight movement underfoot told her that they were about to get under way. Joanna was tempted to stay topside and watch, but immediately dismissed the idea. Not that it really mattered now if Sean did spot her, except that she preferred to pick the time and place of their first meeting.

* * *

Joanna? Is that Joanna Andrews?
Sean stared at the brown-haired woman's retreating form and frowned.
No. No, it can't be. I must be seeing things.