From Kiss to Queen by Janet Chapman Page B

can’t,” she told his toes. It was either look at his toes or at his face, and she wasn’t up to seeing the pity in his eyes. “I don’t know how my ankle got crushed.”
    â€œHow can you not know something like that?” he asked, genuine amazement in his voice. “If you were a child, then your parents would know.”
    â€œI have to go to the bathroom. Now,” she added when his feet didn’t move.
    He sighed, then bent down and picked up his clothes. “We will also leave this discussion for later,” he murmured as he slipped into his clothes. “Get dressed, Jane, and meet me in the galley. We’ll have some breakfast before we leave.”
    â€œThat’s the cafeteria, right? How do I find it?” she asked, thankful he was leaving.
    â€œAsk any crewman you meet. They all speak passable English. It’s required.”
    â€œReally? Why?”
    â€œThey must know French, Spanish, Japanese, and Chinese, also. This carrier travels the world, and everyone aboard must be capable to some extent.”
    â€œWow. Was that your father’s idea?”
    He straightened from tying his boots and eyed her for several seconds, then suddenly smiled. “Yes, it was my father’s idea.”
    â€œI can’t wait to meet him. I hope he’s okay.”
    â€œI can’t wait until you meet him, either,” he agreed dryly. “And yes, he’s going to be fine. I’ve already spoken with him. He is resting at home after having a minor stroke, apparently, and must now take it easy.”
    â€œHe’s home so soon?”
    â€œVery minor. He is also looking forward to meeting you.”
    â€œYou told him about me?”
    â€œBut of course. He wouldn’t be seeing me if not for you.”
    â€œOh. Yeah. That’s right. Ah . . . Are you going to leave anytime soon?”
    Mark strode back to the bed, leaned down, and kissed her on the lips. “Take a hot shower if you’re sore this morning,” he whispered. “And don’t feel compelled to rush to breakfast. I have things to see to before I can meet you there. And don’t be afraid of any of the crewmen. They will take good care of you.”
    Blushing at his suggestion she take a long hot shower, and why, Jane nodded and gave him a push to get him moving. He straightened with a chuckle and finally made it out the door.
    And Jane finally made it to the bathroom.
    *   *   *
    M ark walked back into the cabin as soon as he knew Jane was in the shower. He went to the bed and stripped off the bottom sheet, which carried the telltalesign of her lost innocence. He folded the sheet, remade the bed so Jane wouldn’t realize it was missing, then took it with him when he re-exited the room.
    *   *   *
    J ane had spent the last fifteen years of her life in a mostly male environment—the first twelve years at Saint Xavier’s having been exclusively female—but the journey to the galley had proved a trying affair. All the men she met had kept bowing to her, treating her like some sort of celebrity. They’d stuttered and stammered trying to give her directions, and Jane had stammered and blushed and actually sneezed on two of them. Finally, one daring, frustrated soul had simply given up and led her to the galley—puffing up his chest like a drumming partridge whenever they met other crewmen in the corridors.
    Jane had been embarrassed. Now she was perturbed. She was sitting alone off to the side at a table large enough for thirty people, being stared at by at least a hundred men. The cook had come out of the kitchen bearing a monstrous tray laden with every conceivable breakfast food, followed by another man carrying fancy china, polished silver, linens, and crystal glassware—into which he’d poured what she suspected was fresh squeezed orange juice. Looking at the tables full of crewmen, Jane had seen