Right, left, up, swing left leg around, climb, fall backward, pause. The steps for my doubles routine went through my head on repeat while I stood in line at security, waiting to go through the inspection point and board the Oceanic Aphrodite. For the first time, I'd be dancing the Talent Show finale at the end of the cruise, which needed to go flawlessly. My future depended on this event, so I practiced every possible second.

My toes tapped in time with my thoughts, probably making me look quite odd. Fortunately, I'd been sailing this cruise for months as part of the onboard entertainment. The officers working the line knew me, and they were used to watching me dance in line. Once I made it to the metal detectors, it should be smooth sailing. Pun intended.

Normally, staff boarded the ship the night before or early in the morning before any guests arrived. My cabin mate Penny and I had gotten special permission to spend the night off—ship, a privilege that likely wouldn't be repeated now that her guy problems made us two hours late. At least they'd agreed to let us on right after the VIPs so we could beat most of the regular passengers.

Beside me, Penny tapped away on her phone, her long dark hair forming a curtain over the device. "Why hasn't Robbie texted me back?"

"I'm sure you'll hear from him soon." I struggled to keep from revealing my true feelings on the subject. "Especially since he'll be on the ship. It's not like he can avoid you forever."

Her head shot up, brown eyes flashing. "You think he's avoiding me?"

In truth, yes, I did. But if I hadn't been distracted thinking about our upcoming performance, I would have found a nicer way to say so. Well, probably. I'd been trying to politely tell her what a creep Robbie was for weeks, and she hadn't listened. Maybe it was time to be more direct. "I think he enjoys the rich passengers who might further his career once he graduates. Rob's pretty clear on his priorities, and you're not one of them."

"Ouch." Her face twisted into a grimace. A pang hit me. "I hope you're wrong."

"So do I, Pen. So do I." Not knowing what else to say, I changed the subject. "I'm excited that Max is letting us do the finale this week."

"Oh, I know! It's going to be amazing! The guests won't know what hit ‘em. Especially the stuffy old farts who think pole dancing is only for strippers."

Despite myself, I blanched.

A look of horror crossed her face. "Oh, no. I'm sorry, Janey."

She hadn't meant to insult me, but I'd learned pole while working strip clubs. The patrons loved blue—eyed blondes, so owners always wanted someone with my look.

"It's fine," I said, breaking the awkward silence.

If things went well this week, the two of us would be cemented as dancing partners for the next year of cruises or more. Each additional performance meant cash in our pockets. I could ignore one thoughtless comment in the interests of continuing to pay for my father's assisted living every month. Dad had nowhere else to go, especially since his disability left him unable to care for himself.

Needing to look at anything else, I turned to face the metal detectors separating us from the ship's boarding area. The line of people might as well be a wall. I shifted from one six—inch heel to the other, wondering what this week's hold—up was. Last week, a bride didn't understand why her father couldn't bring his actual guns to her "shotgun" wedding. The week before, a groom tried to bring a case of whiskey, which is against ship policy. Maybe we had a celebrity up ahead. They always slowed down security. Rumor had it that some famous baseball player was getting married onboard this week. I didn't follow sports, though, so unless he wore his uniform, I'd never know.

Craning my neck to see the inevitable shenanigans at the front of the line, I almost didn't hear the commotion behind me. A woman gasped, then a child cried out. I turned to see what was happening, a fraction of a second too late.

A man's voice yelled, "Look out!"

Seconds later, something shoved me from behind, hard. Stumbling, I wheeled my arms for balance. The heel cracked off my shoe. I tumbled to the ground, landing hard on my hip. Ouch. As a dancer, I'm no stranger to injuries, but that was going to leave a bruise. It stung, almost as much as the realization that I was going to have to replace my two hundred dollar Pleasers–and with no time to go shopping before we set sail, I'd have to do it at one of the ship's outrageously overpriced boutiques. Entertainment staff got a discount, but not nearly enough. Silently, I kissed this week's earnings good—bye. At least I didn't have to pay for my room, utilities, or food.

"Are you okay?" The same voice asked.

Blinking several times to clear the pain clouding my vision, I looked up to see such a delicious—looking man bending over me, I wondered if I imagined him. Curly brown hair falling across his forehead, light brown eyes the color of a latte, high cheekbones, a strong nose, and perfect lips. This face belonged in a museum.

"Gorgeous," I said without thinking. Then I flushed. "I mean, yes. I'm okay. What happened?"

His lips twitched at my slip of the tongue. "Runaway baggage cart. You were nearly murdered by a wedding dress. What an unfortunate end for such a talented fidgeter."

"You saw me dancing?"

"I may have noticed you before the cart rolled away."

The admission made me smile. "Well, thanks. If you hadn't been here, I might have been flattened."

"Glad I could help." He held out a hand to pull me to my feet. Our eyes locked, and suddenly, I couldn't breathe. "I'm Frank."

"Janey. Nice to meet you." As perfected over the years, I kept my face and tone pleasant but not overly friendly. As hot as this guy was, passengers were strictly forbidden. I didn't want to spend the entire cruise wishing he wasn't. Dropping his hand, I moved away from him, back toward the line.

A wince of pain sent me looking for the nearest chair. The fall must've twisted my ankle, and I'd been too distracted by this man to notice. Frank had shifted away, following my lead, but now he returned to my side. "Are you okay?"

"It's nothing. I'll walk it off."

"Let me see."

"It's no big deal," I insisted. "I'm a dancer. Happens far more often than it should."

"That's unfortunate, but please let me see it. It's my fault you're hurt, and I'm a doctor."

"Don't worry about me. Penny, are you okay?"

My friend stood nearby, her face unreadable. "It missed me by a mile. But I'm a little dizzy. I've got to go. I'll see you onboard."

Before I could tell her not to go call deadbeat Robbie again, she vanished in the direction of the women's restroom, one hand resting on her stomach. Poor thing. My friend needed me, and I wanted to go with her, but my throbbing ankle stopped me. I didn't want to spent more time falling under Dr. Frank's spell, but the line to get onto the ship–and to the infirmary–hadn't budged. Better to sit and let him check me out than stand in pain, balancing on a broken shoe.

Together, we hobbled to a bench near the entrance to the security line. It wasn't nearly as far away as it should have been after twenty minutes of waiting. I collapsed with a sigh. Then my eyes landed on something and I groaned. "Oh, no."

"What's wrong?" Frank asked.

"My carry—on is still in the line. I need to grab it before someone reports it to security as an unattended bag."

"Is it that green one?" He pointed at my battered duffel, now sitting a bit outside the line, probably pushed by an overeager passenger. "That's all you need for a week?"

The bag only contained a few things I'd taken to spend the night at my sister's apartment, playing dress—up with my five—year—old niece. Easily the best thing about having a home port in Miami. Everything else remained in the cabin Penny and I shared. This passenger didn't need to know that.

"Yeah."

"Don't move." He touched my shoulder as he walked away, sending an unexpected jolt of desire through me. Oh, no. The last thing I needed was to get involved with a passenger, and this one could be trouble.

As my savior walked away, I marveled at his straight back, the way he held his head erect. The man moved with confidence, but also an innate grace, like a cat. Or a dancer. He didn't walk, he glided across the floor. I also took in the lines of his windbreaker, the creases of his pants, the leather of the shoes molding to his feet perfectly. Dr. Frank was off—limits for more reasons than one. Rich men only ever wanted one thing from girls like me, and I wasn't in a position to give it.

A moment later, he returned, my bag slung over his shoulder. I thanked him, then lifted my injured leg to rest on top once he set it in front of me. The pain subsided, so I scooted down to rest my head on top of the bench. Perfect. Except for being late to work and the throbbing ankle.

"I'm going to check you out now, okay?"

It was on the tip of my tongue to mention that I'd been checking him out for the last five minutes, but flirting with passengers needed to remain subtler, more innocent. I nodded. His touch was firm, yet soft. He poked and prodded for a moment while I did my best not to wince.

Finally, he said, "It's not broken."

Relief washed over me. If I broke my ankle, I'd be out of a job. While I loved my sister and niece, I didn't want to move in with them after becoming unemployed and homeless. "Thank goodness."

"Wrap it up for a couple of days, try to stay off it, and you should be fine. The infirmary will have elastic bandages."

"I've got one in my bag, actually," I said, opening a zipper on the side. "Part of the job."

"Excellent! Please, allow me."

I should say no, do it myself. After all, I'd wrapped various body parts a thousand times. But the smallest innocent touch couldn't hurt anything. His firm hands warmed my ankle, making it feel better already. Once we got on the ship, I'd never see him again. "Thanks."

He took the bandage and expertly wrapped my ankle in a matter of seconds. His hand lingered, just enough for me to notice. This magnetic pull between us wasn't one—sided. "There you go."

For the first time, I noticed how close he stood. The heat of his breath washed over my cheek. My skin burned where he'd examined my ankle. I refused to let myself wonder what these fingers would feel like moving over the rest of my body. He licked his lips, and my eyes darted involuntarily to follow the movement. I became helpless to look away.

It had been a long time since I'd been with anyone. Too long. I made a mental note to find a suitable hookup at the first port. Suitable meaning not a passenger, and not while on the ship. Not if I wanted to keep my job, which I very much enjoyed.

"Are you part of the Sassy Singles?" I asked, naming a group that booked multiple activities for passengers interested in meeting someone.