Fearless - Fern Michaels Page 0,6

a clean bill of health and were told to stop thinking about getting pregnant, and most likely they would easily have a second child.

On the fifth anniversary of their daughter’s birth, Anna decided she would not have another child. It wasn’t happening, and after many tears, anger at her own body, numerous crazy how-to-conceive concoctions, she told Wade she wasn’t going to think about having another child. One was enough. Both were content with this decision. Secretly, though, Anna hoped that after having made the decision, she would get pregnant.

During Christina’s first semester of second grade, her life, their lives changed forever. Anna couldn’t forget that horrible day. She would never get over the loss though she’d learned to live with it.

She’d just put her daughter down for the night and settled on the sofa to read an article Wade had recently been featured in. Wade had a big job he’d had to finish, so she knew he wouldn’t be in until late. Around midnight she’d gone to bed, knowing she’d see her husband in the morning.

Around four in the morning, she’d been woken from a sound sleep by the shrill sound of the telephone ringing. Thinking it was Wade, she answered with a sleepy-sounding hello.

“Mrs. Campbell?” a stern, businesslike voice asked.

She remembered sitting up, switching the bedside light on. “Yes, this is she.”

From there, she always drew a blank. Her memory had completely blocked out the events of that early-morning tragedy. He’d been in a fatal motorcycle accident. All she needed to remember was that Wade was dead.

Her life would never be the same. The darkness overwhelmed her.

Chapter 2

“This is unbelievable,” Anna said to the cabin steward.

“Yes, ma’am. This is the largest cabin on the ship,” he said. “Your suite is the best we have to offer. No other compares.”

She nodded. “It’s more than I expected.” It was like a luxurious apartment. There were two bedrooms, two and a half baths, and two private balconies.

“You’ll have the entire fourteen hundred square feet of space all to yourself,” the steward continued. “Unless . . . well, this is a singles cruise, ma’am.” He added the last sentence with a wink.

“Call me Anna.” She knew from the brochure she’d read on the plane that she was assigned a personal steward /butler. She didn’t want to be called “ma’am” for seven days. Might as well get that out of the way.

“My pleasure. And you may call me George,” he said in a lovely Jamaican accent.

Extending her hand, she said, “We could be besties at the end of this cruise.”

He laughed and shook her hand. “Besties?”

George appeared to be in his mid- to late-twenties. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was a good-looking guy. With his coffee-colored eyes, dark, closely clipped hair, and warm brown skin, he probably had women falling at his feet. “It’s what my daughter calls her best friend, Tiffany. Besties.”

“Of course. Then we will be ‘besties,’ Anna,” he said, his smile friendly and a bit flirty in a teasing sort of way.

Some women might’ve been offended. She wasn’t at all. Having the ability to read people, she suspected George was just as friendly to everyone he met.

Spying a silver bucket on the kitchen counter, she removed a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne. “Nice,” she said.

“Allow me,” George said, taking the chilled bottle of champagne from her.

“Thank you,” she said, heading out to the balcony. Excited to have such a luxurious space all to herself, she settled onto a lounge chair. The summer air was thick with humidity, but there was just enough breeze from the Gulf for it to be tolerable. Glad she’d packed shorts and several sleeveless sundresses, she decided then and there she was going to do just as Mandy suggested. Rest, relax, and allow herself to be waited on. According to the brochure, that was the main point of cruising on the Splendor of the Sea.

George stepped onto the balcony, a glass of the Veuve Clicquot on a tray. “I’ll leave the bottle to chill,” he said. “If you need anything, Anna, please push the button labeled STEWARD. I’m available around the clock.”

They really did wait on one hand and foot, she thought. “Thank you, George. I’m going to enjoy this”—she held up the crystal flute of champagne—“then I plan to unpack and get settled in.”

George held up his free hand. “No, no you may not! I will unpack for you now.”

“That’s okay. I can do it myself.”

“Anna, this is what I’m here for. Please allow me to