Baby, It's Cold Outside by Jennifer Greene, Merline Lovelace, Cindi Myers Page A

Juan’s real identity. As he’d so callously explained, he hadn’t posted her name or any other identifying personal data. There were lots of women out there with coal-black hair, green eyes and a dimple in one rear cheek.
    Yeah, right! That stupid dimple had made her the recipient of so many sly winks and waggling brows at work that Mia had jumped at Beth’s travel suggestion. Why not take advantage of midwinter cruise sales to get out of town for a few weeks and let the sniggering die down?
    She’d driven in from snowy Newport, Rhode Island, and met Beth at the airport in Boston. Together they’d flown down to Rio to soak up the sun for three glorious days. Then, to Mia’s profound regret, they’d boarded the ultra-luxurious Adventurer II for a twelve-day cruise that included stops in Argentina, Uruguay, the Falkland Islands and Chile. And several days cruising the Antarctic Peninsula.
    Looking back, Mia was forced to admit their first day in Antarctica hadn’t been so bad. Daytime temperatures had hovered around fifty degrees. She and Beth had dressed in light layers—cotton turtlenecks, wool sweaters, waterproof windbreakers—and hung over the rails with the other passengers to ooh and ahh at spouting whales and penguins cavorting on the ice floes that drifted by.
    This morning had started off sunny, too. Then a gray cloud rolled over the top of the glacier-skirted mountains off the port side of the ship. With it came plummeting temperatures and knifing winds. The next thing the more than three hundred passengers knew, visibility had dropped to near zero, the wind was screeching along the decks and the Adventurer was wallowing like a drunken sailor.
    Some extremely nauseous hours later, the ship hit a submerged ice shelf. Everyone was looking extremely scared and replaying Titanic ’s last moments in their headswhen an announcement came over the intercom instructing all personnel to dress in their warmest clothes and report to their muster stations.
    Now here they were, plowing through vicious seas while the storm still raged outside their covered lifeboat. Ice pellets pinged against the roof and windows. The wind howled like a mortally wounded dragon. Waves smashed against the hull. All that kept Mia from giving in to a healthy bout of hysteria was the fact that they were about to dock at a U.S. research station. Or so the white-lipped ship’s officer commanding the lifeboat had assured his moaning, miserable passengers just moments ago.
    When a sudden thump set the boat shuddering, terror speared through Mia’s heart. She reached over to clutch her sister’s hands but the elderly woman on Beth’s other side preempted her.
    “We hit a floe!” the woman cried, ashen-faced. “We’re going to drown!”
    Beth, bless her sensible, substitute-teacher’s heart, had plenty of experience dealing with incipient panic.
    “No, we’re not. Didn’t you feel the engine slowing? We must be at the research station.”
    Mia clutched that straw with the same desperate eagerness as the other woman. Still, her heart stayed in the middle of her throat while the crewman at the helm reversed thrust and backed off, then nudged the throttle forward again.
    “Prepare to disembark,” the officer in charge shouted over the shrieking wind.
    The passengers waited anxiously until another crew member put his shoulder to the hatch. Wind and sleet instantly poured in. Eyes watered. Smiles froze in place. Yet nothing could dampen their ecstatic relief as they inched toward the steps.
    “Careful,” the ship’s officer cautioned. “Wait for the next swell!”
    Ski-masked and goggled faces loomed above the open hatch. Gloved hands reached down. One by one, rescuers grabbed the passengers’ upraised arms and hauled them bodily from the wildly heaving lifeboat.
    Beth and Mia helped the other passengers to the hatch. They were younger than most of their fellow travelers by several decades. When they’d booked the cruise, they