I smiled and nodded. “I’m Maggie.”
“The prettiest Maggie I’ve ever met.” He winked, and I could tell he had a lot of experience sweeping young women off their feet.
By the time the song ended, I was in desperate need of a break. I had to refuse seven gentlemen who approached me for the next dance, claiming that my feet were going to fall off if I didn’t rest.
With promises to dance with them later, I left the ballroom and stepped out onto the promenade deck to get a breath of fresh air. The wind was exactly what my hot face needed, and I closed my eyes, inhaling the salty smell of the ocean.
“You need to report to the operating room at first light. Should you be out dancing so late?”
I opened my eyes and spun on my heels.
Dr. Philips was sitting on a deck chair, his hat perched on his knee. His voice did not hold censure—and his gaze was full of something else entirely.
“You didn’t say hello to me.” It was the first thing that came to mind.
He slowly rose to his feet and joined me near the railing. We were the only ones on the promenade deck. It was just us, the sound of “Hands Across the Sea” played by the band, and the Atlantic Ocean spread out before us.
I faced him, the wind blowing against my face, carrying with it a soft cologne he wore.
“Hello, Nurse Hollingsworth,” he said, his voice quiet.
“My name is Maggie,” I said just as quietly.
“I know your name.”
The same tension reverberated between us. It was an indefinable feeling, and I wasn’t sure if I enjoyed it or not. It felt as if it could either pull us together or snap suddenly, sending me reeling through time and space.
“Did you know I was joining the crew?” I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his.
“I saw your name on the roster this morning.” His eyes moved to my hair, as if caressing it in the moonlight, though he kept his hands to himself.
I tried to remember to breathe. “I wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to come.”
He didn’t respond right away but inhaled and let out a breath before turning to lean on the railing. The moon cut a swathacross the sparkling water, trailing to the edges of the ship. “I wasn’t sure either. You’re a brilliant nurse, but you’re a distraction I’ve never had to deal with before.”
Surprised—and a little riled—I leaned on the railing next to him. Was that an insult or a compliment? “You’ve never worked with a brilliant nurse before?”
He turned to me, his gaze intense. “I’ve worked with several brilliant nurses, but none who try to pull down my defenses and demand my vulnerability.”
I stared at him.Idid that? “I have never thought of you as vulnerable.”
“I fight it every time I’m with you.” He looked back at the water, scoffing. “I fight every feeling you elicit in me.”
I was stunned—not only at his admission, but because he was opening up to me. Hewasmaking himself vulnerable, and it put me in a position of power. Zechariah Philips didn’t open up with just anyone, and if he revealed parts of himself to me, the parts he kept hidden behind his defenses, I could wound him easily.
I wasn’t sure if I wanted that power.
“What are you trying to protect?” I asked.
When he looked at me, the tenderness in his eyes slayed me. “My heart.”
“Hands Across the Sea” came to an end and was followed by “Moonlight Serenade,” a gentle, haunting song from the Glenn Miller Orchestra.
Dr. Philips looked toward the ballroom. “You should probably go back to the dance. You seem popular with the officers.”
“You were watching?”
“How could I not?”
