Page 29 of Hearts Aweigh

His nose almost touched hers. From this close, Abby noticed his irises weren’t actually black but a really, really deep brown. Like hot fudge. Resting on a six-foot-plus sundae of gorgeousness.

She shook her head. Professional. Keep it professional. And make him put her down. Even if she kind of liked the view.

“I can—”

“Hush,” he murmured. “It would take you thirty minutes to limp to the infirmary.”

Should she take offense? A grown woman shouldn’t be hushed, but the man did have a point. She shouldn’t inconvenience the group. Her injury had already brought an abrupt halt to their family recreation. Next time, she’d be more careful.

Wait—next time? There wouldn’t be a next time. The cruise ended in three days. Spencer and Maddie would return home to Louisiana, and she’d never see them again.

The idea dampened the novelty of being princess-carried for the first time in her life.

Abby slumped. As first a teacher and then a childcare worker, she was used to growing attached to the little ones and then having to say goodbye.

But this felt different somehow. Was it because of Maddie?

Or her attractive father? Or maybe both?

A soft hand squeezed her leg. Emily Windsor contemplated her from below. “Are you all right, dear?”

“Oh”—Abby shook off her melancholy—“don’t worry about me. My ankle will be good as new in a few hours.”

Emily studied her with eyes that held a lifetime’s worth of wisdom. “I wasn’t talking about your ankle.” Her glance cut to Spencer. “If you need to talk to someone, I suggest the Lord first and me second.”

Embarrassment sucker punched Abby. Were her emotions that easy to read? Had Spencer also guessed her thoughts? She sneaked a peek at him, but he was focused on Daisy, suggesting she take Madeleine by the hand.

Abby looked back at Emily. “Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Twenty minutes later, she left the exam room with an elastic bandage around her ankle and a bottle of ibuprofen. Her crowd of well-wishers sat in the waiting room.

Abby tottered to the group. “Good news. I’ll live.

Dr. Grant said to wear this lovely bandage a few days and not to walk too fast.” She wobbled over to where Spencer sat with Madeleine between him and Daisy.

“Mr. Masterson, I understand if you’d prefer to have the ship assign you a different nanny. ”

He stood. “I don’t want to overtax you. Will you be staying in your cabin until your ankle heals?”

“Oh my word, no.” Abby laughed. “They’ll put me on desk duty at the childcare center, but I’ll still report to work.”

“If that’s the case, then I’d prefer you continue as Madeleine’s nanny. You can sit in our suite as easily as you can at a desk.”

Althea clicked her tongue. “I guess this means no moonlight walk on the beach with Cedric the sous chef. Such a pity. He was raring to go.”

“Oh.” Abby’s mouth drooped. “Bummer.”

“Don’t you worry.” Emily patted her arm. “I’ve already worked out a plan B.”

“Plan B?” Spencer’s tone matched his sardonic expression.

“Yes. The best operations always have a backup.” Emily dug her phone from her handbag. “I’ll text Cedric and have him meet you at Cloud Nine.”

“Cloud Nine?” Abby’s jaw swung open. “That’s the most expensive private venue on the ship. Exclusive VIPs use it.”

“I know, dear.” Emily winked. “This is when it pays to be friends with the owner’s son. After we helped Jon win the woman of his dreams, he said he owed us for life. Borrowing Cloud Nine for a midnight picnic is hardly too much to ask.”

“Midnight?” Spencer moved his body halfway between Abby and the Shippers. “She’s suffered an injury. Should she be up so late?”

“The man has a point,” Gerry said. “Why not make it an afternoon picnic? Cedric’s evening shift doesn’t start until six.”

“Just a minute.” Spencer held up a hand. “Ms. O’Brien still needs to care for Madeleine.”

Daisy spoke. “I don’t mind filling in. We can go for pedicures and eat supper together. Would you like that, Madeleine?”

“Yes, Grandma,” Maddie said. “What’s a pet-a-gure?”

Daisy laughed and began to explain the enchanted world of foot baths and toenail polish.

“I can hardly believe it.” Abby bounced on her good heel. “Cloud Nine! Thank you, thank you!”

Emily lifted her gray eyebrows at Spencer. “Any other objections?”

He shifted to Abby. “Are you sure your ankle can take it?”

“You betcha.” She made a muscle. “I’m as strong as an ox. Mooooo .”

Madeleine giggled. Abby wrapped an arm around her and squeezed.

He cleared his throat. “Very well. As per our agreement, you have forty-five minutes.”

Abby grimaced at the ugly bandage on her leg. “I hope I can find a skirt long enough to cover this thing.”

Dr. Timothy Grant exited the exam room. Streaks of premature gray adorned his mahogany-brown hair. He halted when he spotted their group. “I didn’t realize how popular our waiting room was. Hello, Emily. Are you getting enough exercise?”

“Yes, of course.” Emily batted a hand. “How long will Abby be out of commission?”

His white lab coat lent him a distinguished air, which was counteracted by his mischievous grin. “Don’t worry. As long as she doesn’t sign up for any samba lessons, her ankle should be right as rain in a few days.”

Emily rubbed Abby’s arm. “Sorry, dear. No dancing dates in your near future.”

Dr. Grant’s smile teased. “I haven’t heard about this, Abby. Are you dating someone?”

“Anyone who will have me,” Abby joked.

An irritated huff sounded from Spencer.

“If my workaholic boss will give me the time off,” she added.

“Is there a sign-up sheet?” Dr. Grant’s grin widened. “I might want to get in on this.”

“A date with a doctor? Be still, my heart.” Abby laughed. “But talk to the Shippers. They’re representing me.”

“I might—”

“It’s time for Madeleine’s lunch,” Spencer took his daughter by the hand and led her over. “Ms. O’Brien, if you’ll accompany her to the room, I have some business.”

“Yes, sir.” Abby straightened and saluted. “On the double, sir.” She laced her fingers with Maddie’s and smiled at the doctor. “Hopefully the next time we cross paths won’t be for medical reasons.”

“Count on it,” he said.

Spencer disregarded the man and herded Abby and Madeleine to the chair where they’d left their things.

Was it Abby’s imagination, or had she heard Spencer mutter, “Don’t count on it”?