Connie Cox - His Hidden American Beauty

He flashed a dimpled smile at her as he caught her staring.

She could feel a blush heating her face as she looked away.

She was no saint, but the man didn’t exist who could tempt her. Sadly, she wished there were.

Dr. Niko Christopoulos leaned over the counter past the plastic Closed sign, giving the middle-aged receptionist a big dimpled smile. He hoped she liked the rugged, unshaven look. It couldn’t be helped.

“I’m so sorry to be such a bother. I’ve been traveling for the last thirty-two hours straight to get here and my last flight landed late.”

The receptionist, who reminded him of his Aunt Phyllis with her polite but no-nonsense attitude, pulled up his information.

“You’re responsible for the party of twelve, right? The grandmother who thinks she’s won the family cruise?”

Niko gave a quick look around the deserted lobby, as if any of his family might overhear. “That’s right. Do you need to verify my credit card?”

“We’ve already done that. But I do need your passport, please.” She held out her hand.

He handed her the well-worn leather folder.

“The Congo, Doctor? And before that Haiti? You’re quite a world traveler.”

Niko didn’t talk about his charity work—ever. But if it got him on this blasted ship before it sailed … “Doctors Without Borders. An adventure every trip.”

Her eyes softened and she picked up the phone. “Hold the ship for Dr. Nikos Christopoulos. He was unavoidably delayed and will be heading your way in just a moment.”

“Thanks for waiting on me.”

She gave him a sly wink. “I’m sure you’re worth waiting for.”

He returned the wink. “That’s what they tell me.”

“Do you need help with your bags?”

“Got it all here.” He pointed to his military-sized backpack full of shorts and swim trunks and toiletries, his suit bag with his tuxedo and his one rolling bag, glad he’d packed for this trip and stuffed his clothes in his trunk before he’d even left for Haiti, for once planning ahead.

He was more of a go-with-the-flow kind of guy—which came in handy when making split-second decisions in the field. Life or death decisions were enough to worry about without adding the little things to the list. But this week he intended to surrender all decisions and worries and soak in the sunshine.

He needed these three weeks of enforced restful playtime. He had become soul-weary, the kind of tired a good nap couldn’t cure.

Physician, heal thyself . He self-prescribed a big dose of fun and he intended to follow doctor’s orders.

“Have a wonderful vacation, Dr. Christopoulos.”

“I’ll do my best.” It worked. The charm his grandmother loved him for and his brothers taunted him about had gotten him where he needed to be once again.

Use the gifts you’ve been given, his grandmother told all of them. His brothers could all cook meals that would please the gods of Olympus. Niko couldn’t boil an egg.

An easy way with words and a genetically pleasing appearance had been his gift—he just wondered if a woman would ever care enough to see past the exterior to the man underneath.

But then again, that would mean he would also need to look beneath her surface and that would mean getting up close and personal. A relationship was out of the question with the lifestyle he would soon be living full time. His ex-fiancée had made that perfectly clear to him. But that was yesterday’s problem.

He would embrace today. Too many years ago he’d learned the hard way that that’s all anyone could really expect to have.

As he headed up the gangplank, the calypso music put a kick in his step. This trip may have originally been planned for his family’s benefit, but it was exactly what he needed, too.

Niko breathed in the tangy air and prepared to enjoy himself, no holds barred. And maybe he’d start with that cute little honey-haired woman in the baseball cap with the legs that went on forever. She stood at the end of the line apart from everyone else, looking totally unattached, which meant totally available, right? While long-term relationships were out, shipboard flirtations were definitely in.

“Those are mighty big bags for such a little lady. Prepared to dress for dinner, are we?” Niko jiggled his suit bag for emphasis.

Big drops started to fall from the clouds above. He moved closer to squeeze under the canvas canopy sheltering the ship’s entrance.

The long-legged beauty tried to shift away but there was nowhere to go.

Just as Niko was considering stepping out into the rain to put her at ease, the line moved, giving her the space she obviously needed.

Then again, it seemed this woman claimed her own space. She looked down her nose at him as best she could, considering she was several inches shorter than him. “I’m on staff here. I don’t do dinner.”

Which wasn’t quite true. Annalise helped out by rounding out the captain’s table on occasion to even out the couples ratio. It was no hardship. Seated next to a partnerless passenger, usually an elderly gentleman or an awkward geek, she’d met some delightful people.

People like this stunning man next to her always had a date, or found one or two while shipboard. The ship’s relationship rules definitely didn’t apply to passengers like it did to crew.

Since she was a rule-abiding crew member, this man was not a threat. Even so, she found herself leaning away from him and his overpowering personality, even while she regretted the sharpness of her tone. She was definitely too much on edge today.

Brandy reached across her toward the guy with an open hand. “Hi, I’m—”

“Next,” the security checker interrupted. He slid Brandy’s ship’s ID through the scanner. “You know the drill.”

The tension between the security checker and Brandy crackled, proof that shipboard break-ups made for an incredibly uncomfortable environment.

Brandy turned to Annalise. “You know, Doc, this ship is large enough that a person could sail for a month without running into everyone on board. But no matter how big it is, when you’re trying to avoid someone, no ship is big enough.”

Annalise felt trapped, literally being caught between a man and a woman and their conflict. A clammy sweat started down her back as the old terror threatened to overcome her.

“Relationships. Not my thing,” she managed to choke out as her throat tightened up on her. She tried to laugh but it sounded strained even to her own ears so she coughed to cover it up. From bad to worse.

Behind her, the late passenger took a step forward, concern in his eyes. “Are you okay?”

His voice was a low deep rumble. Masculinity personified.

She could feel the heat from his body as he crowded her.

Annalise took a deep breath as the unreasonable panic settled. It had been a few years, almost a decade, since she’d had a panic attack. But too many memories in too few hours had taken their toll on the solid, secure world she’d built for herself.

The sooner she put New Orleans behind her, the better off she would be.

“I’m fine. Thanks.” She gave a numb nod and thrust her card at the security checker, careful to keep her fingers from brushing his.

The security checker took Annalise’s card and slid it through. “Welcome back, Dr. Walcott. Need some help with that load?”

“Got it. Thanks.”

The man behind her held his card out for inspection.

“Could you remove the sunglasses, sir?” the security checker asked.

“Of course.”

Annalise had the strongest urge to turn around so she could look into his eyes but practicality took over. What she saw there would have no bearing upon her.

As she tugged her cart, it turned sideways, crashing into this man who made her feel things she didn’t want to feel.

If she were only as graceful as she was independent. “Sorry.” She meant for her gaze to skitter across his face but his eyes ensnared hers.

Tiger eyes. Amber golden with specks of brown, rimmed in a darker brown. Tiger eyes with a depth of … sorrow, perhaps, behind the brightness.

“No problem.” He blinked, breaking their gaze and allowing her to blink as well. When he raised an eyebrow at her, she realized she’d been staring.

Flustered, she yanked her cart, banging into the counter and almost taking out the passenger scanner. He must think her a total klutz.

What did it matter what he thought? Odds were they would never see each other again unless he had a medical emergency. And he certainly looked healthy to her. Well-worn jeans and a wrinkled T-shirt couldn’t hide his physical fitness.

She bumped into passengers all the time. None of them elicited a significant response from her.

Annalise overcame the impulse to check him out one more time.

What was it about him that made her feel … What? Aware? Self-conscious? Tingly? That made her feel anything at all?

As she fought the cart into submission, she heard the security checker say, “Welcome aboard, Mr. Christopoulos. Passenger stairway is to your left.”

Christopoulos? That was the name of her patient with juvenile diabetes. What were the odds?

Annalise headed toward the staff elevators, grateful for the privacy and breathing room that safe little metal box promised.

“Hold the door, please.” A large tanned hand inserted itself between the closing doors. If the man had seemed to tower over her before, he loomed now. “You don’t mind if I ride up with you, do you?”

“Passengers are encouraged to take the stairs if they’re able.” Inwardly, she winced at her brusqueness. She had wanted to establish distance, not convey rudeness. Where was her balance?

“I’m nursing a leg injury.” He gave her a lopsided grin, as if he were embarrassed to ask for special treatment.

Annalise wished a hole would open up and swallow her. “Of course, then.”

She stared at the floor numbers as the door closed, not trusting herself to engage in polite conversation.

She needn’t have worried about the man being chatty. He leaned against the back wall of the elevator, closed his eyes and slumped as if he would fall asleep right then and there. Except there was nothing relaxed in the tightness around his eyes or the brackets around his mouth or the squareness of his jaw.

Annalise took a moment to gather herself the way she’d learned in therapy so many years ago, rationalizing that her edginess had been provoked by too many triggers in quick succession, the worst one brought on by her own need to know that someone in the world cared.

When she’d knocked on her mother’s apartment door while she’d been on shore leave, Annalise had half expected, even hoped, to be told that her mother had moved and failed to leave a forwarding address.

But she’d been there. Bright pink lipstick had leaked into the pursed lines around her lips and coated the end of the cigarette stuck into her mouth. Age spots showed on her chest and arms, exposed by her cheap orange tank top.

“Anna?” her mother had smoothed down her over-processed hair. “I hadn’t expected …”

Scented candles perfumed the air. Annalise recognized the odor. Her mother had always thought men were turned on by heavy oriental scents. The smell made her stomach turn.

“I was in town and just thought I’d drop by.”

The furtive look her mother sent over her shoulder to whoever was waiting in the back bedroom was less than welcoming.

“I don’t really have the time to come in and visit,” Annalise assured her.

The relief was obvious in her mother’s eyes. “Maybe another time.”