J.J. didn’t know what to make of Diana Clay.

At breakfast that morning, she sat by herself at one of the many tables in the dining room with a writing tablet and pen. If she was writing a letter, someone was about to get a good scolding, the way her hand flew briskly across the page. She seemed to alternate between a state of agitation in a frenzy of writing and looking confused, biting on the end of the pen as she contemplated the page. Her facial expressions changed just as quickly.

The hour he spent hiding behind various food stations, ducking behind planters of flowers and walls, and blending in among the crowds as he followed Diana from afar, did nothing for him except to make him hungrier. He kept waiting for Manda to join Diana at any moment. The wait left him starving as the smell of food enveloped him. He was ready to get in line for the buffet table and join her. But that would ruin his plans for the evening.

He was mildly surprised when Diana finally ordered her breakfast then proceeded to send it back twice before she was satisfied.

She was kind about it, but watching her in action gave him pause.

As he continued to focus on the woman that intrigued him so much, he realized she was something of a train wreck, and he couldn’t look away.

J.J. followed Diana as she picked Manda up outside her room, then to the spa, asking one of the specialists about the various treatments while listening to the conversation between Diana and Manda.

Diana’s friend had bailed, and so had Manda’s. The two decided to make the best of it. And while Diana gave the appearance of being smart, strong, and a bit of a power diva, it felt like a mask she hid behind. Whereas Manda was exactly as she appeared—bashful, quiet, and pleasant to be around.

When the girls finished their spa treatments, they giggled their way to the wardrobe room like a couple of silly teenagers. They were downright adorable. Where had they been when he was in college?

He was even more bewildered as he continued tailing Diana during the day. She kept the woman at the excursions desk busy, asking a hundred and one questions, booking excursions, then ultimately canceling them.

He’d never have pegged her for high maintenance, but by all appearances she was.

Then just when he was ready to cancel his date for the ball, she decided to observe the formal high tea and gave her compliments to the chef.

If he continued to scratch his head over her, he’d no doubt end up with a bald spot on top by the end of the day.

She was up to something, but what?

He had no intention of meeting up with her until the ball. He wanted to see the reaction on Diana’s face when he showed up dressed as the Phantom. Was Manda right? Did she have a thing for the masked man? Curiosity won out, and he had to find out what it was about the character that caused the appeal.

J.J. had plans of his own. Romantic fantasies he wanted to share with the woman who had stolen his breath away the second he first spied her. Except now he was flummoxed.

Was this why she wasn’t Hunter’s type? Was Diana a prima donna?

Finally, he had to steal away from the woman so he could put his own costume together. He went back to his room and keenly watched the Phantom movie so he might pull off the mannerisms and characteristics to give Diana what she wanted. If only he’d had more time to pump Manda for details.

That’s when he got the idea of asking Hunter. Surely he’d give him an idea of how to appeal to Diana. But when he went to Hunter’s room, he was nowhere to be found.

J.J. covered every inch of the ship and couldn’t track his friend anywhere, so he went back to his room and did a Google search for Diana Clay. He found nothing. It was as if she didn’t exist.

Fingers of anxiety crept up his spine. It was time to do some serious searching. He made his way to the purser’s desk with his story down. He was interested in asking a particular woman out and didn’t know her last name. Yes, it was a lie, but he had to start somewhere. He would appeal to the romantic side of the purser and hope to locate the information.

As he rounded the corner to the desk, he spied Diana on the ship-to-shore phone.

A scowl marred her beautiful face. Her hand clutched the receiver tightly. She swore under her breath. “Fine. Anything else?” Sarcasm dripped from her words as Diana tapped her foot impatiently.

He half expected her to kick the desk.

Whoever was on the other end of the line had set her off, big time. Was it the mysterious friend who had bailed on her or someone else?

He turned away, feeling like a louse for eavesdropping; but he needed information about the elusive Diana Clay, especially since he was no closer to coming to a conclusion about the woman.

When he turned back, she casually swiped a finger under her eyes and sniffed, blinking as she looked skyward.

Who was hurting her? What had they said or done to cause such a reaction?

His ire was up, wanting to put a smile back on her face. What could he possibly do to fix things and make her feel better? He didn’t know squat about the woman.

What tripped J.J. up was that his opinion of Diana changed moment-by-moment. He disliked the diva he saw in action that morning, but now all he wanted to do was protect her.

By the time she hung up and rushed to the elevator, presumably to her room, J.J. decided to put every effort into his character and give Diana a magical night.

He took a long, hot shower using his time in the steamy spray to get psyched up for the evening. J.J. had managed to find a perfect jet black cutaway suit, with a burgundy satin and flocked vest. The jacket itself was trimmed with black velvet lapels. J.J. hung it in the steamy bathroom then brushed it meticulously.

Needing a moment of quiet contemplation, he wrapped a towel around his waist then went out on the balcony to listen to the waves, taking the time to just be in the moment.

The spell was broken the instant he spied his watch. It was time to meet Hunter and the band in the auditorium for practice. Dinner was being catered so the band would have all the time they needed for last minute practice.

When rehearsal was over, both J.J. and Hunter raced from the auditorium to change for the ball.

As J.J. stood before the mirror in his room, he fastened the cape in place before adding the partial face mask. Even he had to admit he looked terrific.

Before he left his room, he sprayed a breath freshener into his mouth and tucked a couple foil packets into his pockets for later.

He had one last stop to make at the florist. The Phantom of the Opera couldn’t meet his ideal woman without a fresh, ruby red, long stem rose.