A Perilous Eden by Heather Graham Page A

an elegant pink lace dress, with socks to match. Despite their appearance, the brother was chasing the sister mercilessly down the hall, and the sister charged right into Amber. The girl backed away, horrified, and looked around quickly to see if her parents had noticed the offense, but they were nowhere to be seen. She stared at Amber with her mouth very round. “I—I’m sorry!” she stuttered.
    Amber smiled and shook her head. “It’s all right.” She looked over the girl’s head to her brother. “But you should be careful, you know. There may be some real grouches on board this ship.”
    The girl nodded, smiling. Then she tried to don a very serious expression. “We’ll be careful, I promise.” She kept staring at Amber, and she smiled again. “You’re pretty.”
    Amber laughed. “Thank you. So are you.”
    The little boy was behind his sister then, taking her arm. “Thanks, miss. Come on, Arabella.” They hurried past her. Amused, Amber watched them go. When she turned again, her heart slammed hard against her chest. Michael Adams was there, ahead of her, standing by the case where the boarding pictures were being displayed. He had changed for dinner, too. He wasn’t as elegant as he had been in his tuxedo, but he was every bit as striking. He was in black again, and he was watching her with a curious light in his eyes.
    Amber squared her shoulders and started past him. “Good evening, Mr. Adams,” she said, brushing by.
    â€œMiss Larkspur.”
    He said nothing more as she passed him, and a curious feeling of disappointment fell over her.
    She entered the casino and watched the handsomely dressed men and women at the blackjack tables for a while, then bought herself a handful of quarters for the slot machines. She idly tossed in coins and watched as watermelons and little black lines refused to line up. Frustrated, she turned.
    Michael Adams was leaning against the next machine. She wondered uncomfortably just how long he had been there, and she instinctively knew that he had been watching her for quite a while. Instantly, her temper flared, and she was on the defensive. “I am old enough to gamble, Mr. Adams.”
    â€œSo I imagine,” he said.
    When she started to turn away, he stepped closer. “Giving up so easily?”
    She paused. His voice was light. There was an almost teasing quality to it.
    â€œI’ve fed that machine quite enough, I think.”
    â€œOh, I don’t know. Loyalty seems to pay off most of the time.” He slipped a quarter into the machine. It whizzed and whined, and to Amber’s complete annoyance, the bars with the little money signs in the middle all lined up neatly. The machine began to clang and chirp, and quarters seemed to spill out by the dozens.
    She looked from the quarters to Michael Adams. He was smiling at her, ignoring his winnings.
    â€œCongratulations,” she said.
    â€œI just put that quarter in for you.”
    She shook her head. “I don’t want your money.”
    â€œWell, I don’t want yours.”
    â€œHey, lady!” said a fat man with a cigar. “I’ll take your quarters!”
    â€œThere’s about fifty dollars there. What say we hand it over to a charity, then?” Michael suggested.
    The tension left her. She suddenly found herself smiling, too. “All right.” She named her favorite charity.
    â€œSounds good,” Michael said.
    Amber looked at the fat man. “Could I borrow one of your cups, please?”
    â€œSure, lady. Sure.”
    Once she had cashed in the coins, she turned around to find that the changeable Michael Adams was waiting for her. “I think it’s time for dinner,” he told her.
    â€œOh? Are we dining together?”
    â€œVery together.” She looked up at him. He was staring straight ahead as they walked down the hall, his hand on her elbow. “Myra managed