“Wouldn’t let you get a word in edgewise?” Sigrid shook her head. “Yeah, men get so proud and cocky when we show the slightest hint of jealousy, but if we don’t trust them, they fly off the handle.”
“They do, don’t they?” She gritted her teeth. “They can be such…pigs.”
“Sharks,” Sigrid tagged on, making Sharona’s stomach twist like she was aboard the Mad Hatter in rough water.
As much as she was trying to forget about it or at least stay angry, a sad rawness squeezed her heart when she thought about Jeff. She’d tried to hold onto the anger as she’d written her report, but the more she wrote, the more she remembered what had really happened, the purpose of today’s expedition. She’d learned that Jeff Cruz was a good man, a brilliant scientist, and a tremendous humanitarian, willing to do the right thing by his beloved great white sharks—even if that meant slowing down his research.
After she’d emailed her report to Garry, she’d sat on the hotel bed and tried to ignore the fresh wave of disappointment. The anger was gone, leaving sadness and confusion in its place.
What had he meant about screwing unavailable women? She’d been completely available for six months…ever since she’d broken off her engagement to…
“Garry,” she growled aloud.
“That his name?” Sigrid asked. “What a bloody prick.”
“No. That’s the name of the lying sack of crap who’s been telling lies about our relationship.” She shook her head. “So typical of him to do something like this. Oh, I am so quitting that job. And then I’m siccing the FCC on his ass, not to mention slapping him with sexual harassment.” She dropped her arms on the bar, feeling a combination of anger and helplessness.
“The thing about Jeff,” she added a moment later.
“That’s the other one?” Sigrid asked.
She nodded. “One minute we were about to break a bunk and… Anyway, the next minute he was yelling at me like…like he didn’t trust me. But I don’t know why he’d feel that way.”
“It’s an insecurity thing,” Sigrid said, sagely, placing a drink before her.
“Maybe.” But Jeff had never once seemed insecure to her. In fact, he was the most put-together and driven guy she’d ever met. That was one of the things that was so dang appealing. “Anyway, thanks for listening.” She touched the glass but didn’t drink. “I’m Sharona, by the way.”
Sigrid slapped her hand on the bar. “No shit, really?”
Sharona rolled her eyes. “I know, just like the song.”
“Not what I mean.” Sigrid grabbed a folded-up slip of paper off the back of the bar. “A bloke was in here earlier. Left this.” She passed Sharona the note.
Sharona, you’ll never know how sorry I am, but I sincerely hope you’ll give me the chance to explain. It was a big misunderstanding—my fault! And I’m so sorry. ~J
She folded the paper, her mind in a whirl. “Jeff was here?” She glanced around the rooftop bar, dimly lit by twinkle lights and the full moon above.
“Never got his name,” Sigrid said. “As you can see, it’s pretty dark up here. Is he a tall guy, brown hair, amazingly good-looking?”
Sharona’s throat tightened unexpectedly as tears welled behind her eyes. “That’s him. Do you know where he went?”
“After he made all the barkeeps and waiters memorize your name and told them about the note here, he dropped a big tip and left. Seemed desperate to find you. Can you call him?”
“I don’t…know…”
She scanned the bar, feeling wretchedly out of place among the happy wedding guests. Just over Sigrid’s head were three flat-screen TVs, one showing a soccer game, one playing a montage of photos—probably of the newlyweds—and the third screen had the local news.
Sharona sighed and leaned on an elbow, but when a new news story flashed across the screen, she sat up straight. “Turn it up!” she called to Sigrid, pointing at the third screen.
The bartender grabbed a remote, increasing the volume.
Sharona still couldn’t hear it, but she could see Jeff on-screen perfectly. He wore a white polo shirt with a red-and-blue logo over the pocket. The visor he’d been wearing earlier today had sported the same logo.
She recognized the helm of the Mad Hatter. The sun was setting behind him, so this must’ve been shot a few hours ago—after they’d docked. Right after she’d left. Manny stood behind him, and was that…Leo with a mic in his hand? Jeff held something…something about the size of a magic marker…something hot pink.
“I can’t hear him,” Sharona said, about to scale the bar so she should stick her ear to the speaker. “Can you hear what Jeff’s saying?”
Sigrid stared at her, slack-jawed. “That’s him? You’re talking about Jeff Cruz? Jeff Cruz was in my bar and I didn’t recognize him? Son of a—”
“What’s he saying?” Sharona cut in, and then looked at Sigrid. “How do you know him?”
“Girl, that’s Great White Cruz. He used to be on the local news all the time—hometown bloke makes good with his dream team of shark men. He has a huge following around here, but about a year ago he went underground.” She turned back to the screen with new interest. “He’s…he’s saying that it’s time to reveal new technology.” She paused to listen. “He says he was afraid he’d lose what’s most important to him but someone close to him said it was time to share. Something about trust and taking a leap of faith. Wait…hold on.” Sigrid rose up on her toes as Sharona’s gaze flashed back and forth from her to the screen.
“What’s he saying now?”
“Something about…eh?”
Sharona’s eyes grew large. “What?” she begged.
“That George Clooney movie, Ocean’s Eleven.”
Sharona stared at the screen as Jeff smiled and looked directly into the camera lens, speaking words she couldn’t hear.
“He says he’s looking for a missing member of his crew, his—”
“Julia Roberts,” they said together.
Sigrid turned to her. “He’s talking about you?”
Without a thought, Sharona kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the slippery, polished bar, grabbing the screen with both hands. If she couldn’t get to the real Jeff Cruz, she sure as hell was going to hear every damn word TV Jeff was saying.
“Come down, sweetie,” said another bartender. “Sig, no more whiskey for this one.”
“Shut up,” Sharona hissed, pressing her ear against the speaker. But all she heard was the weather report. She stared at the screen. “Where’d he go?” she demanded, gazing down at Sigrid.
“It’s gone to commercial,” she replied. “Let’s get you another drink.”
A group of guys at a table started whistling and catcalling, requesting Sharona give them a table dance.
“I’m all about grand gestures in the name of love,” Sigrid called up to her over the noise, “but I reckon the manager’s gonna ring the cops if you don’t come down. Chicks like you will cause a riot.”
Sharona bit her lip, suddenly realizing where she was.
“Oh, shit,” she whispered, unable to move. She covered her face in her hands, like that would make her disappear.
“Jim, Curly,” she heard Sigrid say. “Help her down. Come on, luv. Give us your hand.”
“I’ve got her.”
The deep, familiar voice sounded like a dream in her head. Then a warm hand had her around her ankle. She opened her eyes to see Jeff gazing up.
“Baby. What are you doing up there?” he asked, lightness and curiosity in his voice.
All she could do is point at the screen. “You were…there…”
“Come down. I really need to talk to you.” He reached up a hand. Sharona was about to take it but then stopped.
“Talk?” She folded her arms. “About what?”
Just then, the band started playing “YMCA” and no one seemed to care about the crazy lady standing on the bar any more.
“Come down,” Jeff said, waving his hand.
>
She shook her head. “You said you need to talk…so talk.”
“I can’t hear you, babe,” he said over the growing volume of the music. “Come on.”
But she wasn’t budging. Jeff dropped his outstretched arm and she could see him exhale in frustration. He looked clean, shaven, and gorgeous by light of the moon. He wasn’t wearing the white polo shirt with the logo, but a blue T-shirt and dark jeans. It was hard to believe he was the same man who’d just been on TV, when all she could see was the guy hovering over her in a tiny bunk—when he’d been all hers.
“Fine!” he finally called, cupping his hands around his mouth. “I’m sorry, okay?”
“About what?”
He didn’t go on right away but lowered his hands to his hips. “I was…misinformed about your relationship status.” He glanced over his shoulders, probably feeling more than a little conspicuous. After a throat clear, he continued. “I was also misinformed as to why you’d been sent by SED. I’m sorry for those things I said. I was an ass.”
She widened her eyes.
“Okay, a huge ass.”
“You should’ve asked me about it,” she called.
“I know. I know.” He nodded up and down. “I have a problem with trust and…with putting my heart on the line and going all in for what I really want and…” He paused to shake his head, running a hand through his hair with a sexy, self-deprecating smile. “I reacted before I thought, figured it out too late.” He touched her bare foot, then circled his hand around her calf. The gentle contact was in complete opposition to the forcefulness of his voice as he called, “Sharona, I’m sorry. Do you believe me?”
She couldn’t help pressing her lips together and smiling. After such a delicious display, the answer was too easy. “Yes,” she said, her heart tripping over the single word.
He balked back, looking surprised. “Yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Then will you please come here?” He reached up. She took his hand and bent forward so he could take her by the waist and hoist her down. He did so, a bit more roughly than she’d expected after his heroic, chivalrous exhibition.
“You’re insane,” he muttered, dropping onto a bar stool. He was so adorably embarrassed, it was an actual struggle to not fall in love with him on the spot. “So, you saw the news, I gather?”
She nodded. “But the volume was too low and I couldn’t hear… I saw Old Faithful.”
“Sit.” He pointed at the seat beside him and she sat. “You were right. I needed to talk about our research and some other things. I’m glad I did, and I’m really glad you saw it.” He paused and shifted closer to her. “I was afraid you’d go straight to the airport, but I still had to look for you, I had to try.” He sighed. “The front desk wouldn’t tell me if you had a reservation, but I hoped you were here. Never imagined I’d find you on top of a bar.”
“Yeah, well.” She bit her lip. “I was trying, too.”
He took her hand and pulled her so her knees were between his. “This can work,” he said, staring into her eyes. “I know it can.”
“After your little broadcast,” she gestured at the TV, “you know you’re going to be on the Discovery Channel again—and you should be. You’ve got such an important job.” She pulled back her hand. “What if being with me—because of my job…what if that messes it up and—”
“See.” Jeff cut her off. “This is what I like about you. You think of others first. You almost got swallowed by a shark, yet your first words to me were about losing the bloody tracker.” He took her hand again, sandwiching it between his so she couldn’t pull away. “You were thinking of me, and I love you for that.”
Sharona felt her heart grow light, wanting so much to believe his words. Maybe she needed to take her own leap of faith. And it wasn’t just physical. She was drawn to Jeff for so many reasons that she hadn’t known existed when they’d first met at that very hotel.
“Sharona Blaire.” Scooting closer, Jeff touched her cheek and ran a thumb along her skin, making every cell tingle. “Please forgive me. Don’t say my idiotic mistake ruined the greatest love story since Jonah and the whale.”
“Jeff…” She felt tears behind her eyes. “Of course I forgive—”
The sensation of his lips on hers was just as stunning as the first time. She felt the buzz down to her toes. With their mouth attached, he put his hands on the sides of her neck and she wound her arms around him, feeling safe and protected, like she did each time they were together.
His breath was sweet and welcoming against her skin when he whispered her name. From over his shoulder, she caught Sigrid’s eye. She gave her a tiny nod, then went back to her other customers.
Remembering something, Sharona pulled back. “Jonah and the whale?” she whispered, staring into his eyes.
Jeff laughed. “Marine biology humor.”
“That’s so hot.” She grinned. As the band played another hit from the seventies, Jeff’s hands found their way inside her shirt. Before they explored too far, a group of wedding guests bellied up to the bar.
“I think they want our spot,” Jeff said, his mouth against her neck.
“They can have it,” she whispered. “Hey, are you up for one more game?”
“Sharona…” he warned.
“Not even role-playing?”
Jeff pulled back and eyed her. “Oh, baby.”
She ran a hand up his thigh. “We should pretend like we just met.”
“Like we’re total strangers and I pick you up at a bar?”
“Or I pick you up.”
Jeff’s hands glided along the skin of her back, one finger skimming across where her bra strap should have been. He pulled away to look her in the eyes. “You’re not wearing a…” Slowly, she shook her head and he cocked one of his crooked Han Solo grins. “Sweet mother of…”
“Back to our game,” she prompted.
“Right.” Jeff removed his hands from her back. “So we just met. What comes first? Your call.”
“First…” She placed her hands on his chest, then slid them around his neck. “I kiss you.” She pressed her lips to his, hard, until her head went beautifully fuzzy.
“I like that,” Jeff whispered, hovering over her mouth. “Then I kiss you and do this.” New sparks shot behind her closed eyes as Jeff’s hands cupped her butt and deftly pulled her onto his lap, her legs straddling him. “What’s next?”
“Next”—she managed to breathe out—“I notice your sexy accent and ask if you’re from these parts.”
He repositioned her on his lap, then kissed her nose. “And I say I live in Miami but grew up an hour from here. Then I ask if you’d like to come home with me tomorrow.”
Sharona pulled back. “Meet your family?”
“Too fast for having met five minutes ago?” He rubbed his nose against her cheek. “They’ll absolutely love you, Sharona. Do you have to fly home tomorrow?”
“I’m supposed to, but I already turned in my report and…” She grinned, feeling butterflies in her stomach and a coiling tension in her core. “I’m allowed a little vacation. And thank you for the invitation. It means so much to me.” She kissed him slowly, forgetting how to think, how to breathe.
“I’m anxious to see what happens next,” Jeff said, moving his warm hands to her hips and sliding her off his lap she could stand. “I’ve only been picked up at a pub once before.”
Sharona smiled, while trying to stay upright. “Well, since you’re also visiting, the polite thing would be for you to invite me to your room…show me your shark bite.” She tugged at the front of his shirt, then slid in a hand, touching the slick band of scars on his stomach, feeling his muscles contract. “I have no words, Jeff Cruz”—she paused and touched her forehead to his—“to explain how sexy you are. But I can’t wait to show you.”
“Ditto,” he said with a grin, cupping a hand over her hip then gliding down. “Just to warn you, I don’t give my love bites on the neck.”
Ho
t damn. With her eyes locked on his, she fisted the front of his shirt, pressed her mouth against his and stepped back, forcing him to stand. Lips still connected, she walked him backward through the crowd. Not until they were in the elevator bay did she break the kiss.
“Which floor?” she asked, fighting to catch her breath.
“Floor?” he panted, moving to her neck.
“Which floor is your room?”
He pulled back. “I don’t have a room. I planned on going straight to my family tonight. Then something much more important”—he cocked an eyebrow—“came up.”
“Oh. Well then, I suppose I’ll be inviting you to my room. It’s only polite.” She stepped out of his arms and pressed the call button. “Wait right here?” she asked. “I’ll be back to get you.”
Jeff narrowed his eyes. “No bloody way in hell, gorgeous,” he whispered, drawing out the words. “Don’t think I’m letting you out of my sight this time. Or ever.”
Sharona bit her lip and thought about her cluttered hotel room, the unmade bed, her notes and computer and unpacked clothes. Then she looked at Jeff.
As the doors slid open, she stepped into the empty elevator, reached out a hand, and pulled him inside.
“Going down…”
* * *
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Acknowledgments
Thank you to the usual suspects…
My Entangled Dream Team: Stacy, Alycia, Heather and Debbie. Writerly friends and non-writerly friends: Sue, Ginger, Nancy, Lisa, Cindi and Rachel. Sara, for lending me both SED Independent Auditors of Miami-Dade County and vile Garry. My family for being cool and excited and supportive. Readers, bloggers, reviewers and all my amazzzzzing social media peeps. Each of you makes me a better writer! Last but not least, The Discovery Channel’s “Shark Week,” Jaws (in all its reincarnated, franchise glory), the supersexy “Shark Men” of National Geographic (including the late Paul Walker…the original inspiration for Jeff Cruz) and all the other killer fish stories that continue to fuel my obsession, love, terror, nightmares and captivation.
Love Bites: A Sugar City Novella (Entangled Bliss) Page 11