ROMANCE: CLEAN ROMANCE: Summer Splash! (Sweet Inspirational Contemporary Romance) (New Adult Clean Fantasy Short Stories) by Michelle Woodward
Authors: Michelle Woodward
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been. Besides, it was her time to cut loose, wasn’t it? Why not cut loose with a gorgeous man who seemed enthralled by her? The dress she had chosen for the night, dark blue velvet, molded itself to her body more than could possibly be decent. Thin straps formed the extreme V of her neckline, and the velvet clung to her small breasts. Too often, Mackie had noticed all the flaws of her body—the thickness of the muscles of her thighs, her insubstantial breasts, all the qualities that were so appropriate in the dance world that she never thought could be appreciated by men. But yesterday, Adam had looked at her in a way that made her fairly certain he was undressing her, and quickly, in his mind. So why not tease him just a little bit more? Mackie swelled with the power of her own sexuality.
She glanced down at her gold watch. Damn, she was early. She decided to explore the ship a little bit, wandering in and out of the small boutiques that featured pearls, mascaras, and sweatshirts that were all ridiculously overpriced and glittering with the kind of newness that made them seductive. She liked the feeling of anonymity the wandering gave her, even though from time to time, she could hear someone whisper about her, about the ballerina , as she walked by.
Somehow, miraculously, of the forty plus bars that King Royal boasted, Mackie managed to find the same one as from her first night. The bartender handed her the same dirty martini that she had enjoyed so thoroughly then; Mackie took it with surprise, amazed he remembered without her even having to say a word. As she tilted the martini glass back against her lips, the faint strains of ‘ol Blue Eyes came drifting, curling gradually against her ears. On impulse, she decided to follow it; if she was going to be on this ship for so many more weeks, she should know who on the ship enjoyed the classics as much as she did. Grabbing her glass and purse, Mackie set out to adventure.
Only to find that her adventure wound her around the grand staircase to the fairly non-exciting main lobby. She didn’t localize the sound of the music, however, until she rounded the edge of the staircase to find what had to be the ship’s most unassuming lounge. Off to the left, a photographer had set up a tropical backdrop for the photos most of the passengers seemed unbelievably willing to purchase, and he was surrounded by a plethora of white leather couches that were scattered amongst large potted plants. It was from behind one of these plants that a man was playing a creamy baby Grand.
Settling down into one of the white couches and sipping her drink to have something to do with her hands, Mackie watched the man play. Was he Spanish or Greek, she wondered, trying to discreetly catch a better look at his face. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, muscled through the shoulders, which she found unusual for a musician, and playing the steady ease of someone for who such a song is child’s play. He did not even glance at the keys, but would look beyond the edge of the piano from time to time, a clearly fashioned smile touching his face gently as he connected eyes with one of the crew. Mackie liked that he was a people watcher, and quite suddenly, she knew that she wanted him to notice her, as well.
Downing the rest of the drink, she moved to a couch that was directly to the man’s right. It took all her courage, but she willed herself to sit there and not order another drink as pretense that that was her aim. Her aim was to get to know the man with the soft brown hair standing up from his head as if shocked by electricity, so why pretend otherwise? She was a grown woman, for fuck’s sake.
She was a grown woman, Mackie realized slowly, and when the musician’s eye finally
She glanced down at her gold watch. Damn, she was early. She decided to explore the ship a little bit, wandering in and out of the small boutiques that featured pearls, mascaras, and sweatshirts that were all ridiculously overpriced and glittering with the kind of newness that made them seductive. She liked the feeling of anonymity the wandering gave her, even though from time to time, she could hear someone whisper about her, about the ballerina , as she walked by.
Somehow, miraculously, of the forty plus bars that King Royal boasted, Mackie managed to find the same one as from her first night. The bartender handed her the same dirty martini that she had enjoyed so thoroughly then; Mackie took it with surprise, amazed he remembered without her even having to say a word. As she tilted the martini glass back against her lips, the faint strains of ‘ol Blue Eyes came drifting, curling gradually against her ears. On impulse, she decided to follow it; if she was going to be on this ship for so many more weeks, she should know who on the ship enjoyed the classics as much as she did. Grabbing her glass and purse, Mackie set out to adventure.
Only to find that her adventure wound her around the grand staircase to the fairly non-exciting main lobby. She didn’t localize the sound of the music, however, until she rounded the edge of the staircase to find what had to be the ship’s most unassuming lounge. Off to the left, a photographer had set up a tropical backdrop for the photos most of the passengers seemed unbelievably willing to purchase, and he was surrounded by a plethora of white leather couches that were scattered amongst large potted plants. It was from behind one of these plants that a man was playing a creamy baby Grand.
Settling down into one of the white couches and sipping her drink to have something to do with her hands, Mackie watched the man play. Was he Spanish or Greek, she wondered, trying to discreetly catch a better look at his face. He was in his late twenties or early thirties, muscled through the shoulders, which she found unusual for a musician, and playing the steady ease of someone for who such a song is child’s play. He did not even glance at the keys, but would look beyond the edge of the piano from time to time, a clearly fashioned smile touching his face gently as he connected eyes with one of the crew. Mackie liked that he was a people watcher, and quite suddenly, she knew that she wanted him to notice her, as well.
Downing the rest of the drink, she moved to a couch that was directly to the man’s right. It took all her courage, but she willed herself to sit there and not order another drink as pretense that that was her aim. Her aim was to get to know the man with the soft brown hair standing up from his head as if shocked by electricity, so why pretend otherwise? She was a grown woman, for fuck’s sake.
She was a grown woman, Mackie realized slowly, and when the musician’s eye finally
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