Suddenly, the boat rocked violently, again eliciting cries from the elegant ladies sitting around tables and making them clutch to their husbands.

Blaire’s head only lifted half an inch, and then she put her drink away.

Tray hadn’t moved at all.

After a small pause, Blaire spoke again, ignoring the thunder outside. “By your staring, can I safely judge that you like what you see?”

“That’s correct, Ms. Blaire,” Tray said, smiling widely.

“Well then, move yourself away – I’m in no position for a relationship right now,” Blaire told him wearily, the fire in her eyes dying away.

“What do you do for a living?”

“Huh?”

“Your job.”

“Oh, my job? Doctor without borders,” Blaire told him, and surveyed the room. “That’s why I don’t like these effing events.”

Tray nodded, and then did a double take at her language. “You certainly don’t speak like a doctor without borders.”

“You expected flowers to be pouring from my mouth? Dear, I deal with grisly infections every day. I don’t have time for banter.”