Avery played with the straw using the tip on her tongue. “Yep. At least two for me and one for each of my friends.”
“That didn’t take you two long,” Shannon said as she joined them. Trina walked beside her with large sunglasses hiding her eyes. Those sunglasses had become a shield in the past month, whether to keep the media from recognizing her or to hide the pain in her eyes, Lori wasn’t sure. She made it a goal to see those glasses gone by the end of the week. Or at the very least, put away when the sun wasn’t shining on Trina’s face.
“The rooms are phenomenal,” Shannon told Lori.
“I can’t imagine we’ll spend much time in them,” Avery said.
Lori finally sipped her cocktail. Rum, she thought . . . and a bunch of other stuff. It went down way too smooth.
Avery did another round of introductions, keeping with the theme of Mr. Married and Mr. Engaged. Something told Lori that she’d never remember the men as anything other than that. More drinks were ordered, and before she knew it, her shoulders started to relax.
This might be a working vacation, but Lori was determined to enjoy herself.
When Mrs. Married and Miss Engaged found their men, the eye flirting ended and resulted in Avery looking around the deck in search of a fresh catch. The space slowly filled up as passengers made it from their rooms to the bar. Two kids, both boys, ran past them en route to the pool in the center of the deck.
“You look familiar,” Mrs. Married told Trina.
Both Lori and Shannon tensed.
“My first time in Barcelona, so I doubt we’ve met.”
“You’re American, right?”
The married and engaged party of four was from Sicily. All of them spoke English.
“Oh my God, Shannon, I almost forgot. We were supposed to meet those French guys on the main pool deck when we pulled out of port.”
Shannon caught on quickly. “Oh, that’s right.” She put her arm through Trina’s and turned her away from the Italians. “Lovely meeting you. I’m sure we’ll see you again.”
Lori held back to sign for the bar tab.
One of the Italians muttered something about the French before they took their drinks to another part of the lounge.
By now, the barkeep was elbow deep with orders. With tractor-beam eyes, she watched the man in hopes of gaining his attention.
“The death stare usually works faster.” Lori felt her lips peeling back in a smile before pivoting her head toward the amused male voice.
She took him in from the ground up. Slacks, not jeans or shorts like many of the men milling about on deck. Trim waist that bloomed into thick shoulders covered by a pullover, three-button shirt. Arms that spent some time holding something other than a pen flexed under the short sleeves and made her wish he was sunbathing by the pool instead of standing at the bar. Strong jaw, freshly shaven, could only be described as chiseled, or maybe that was the faded scar that slid along his left cheek, a little more than an inch long. His eyes were dark with thick lashes most women would pay to have. His chestnut hair was a little long, and not as well cut as the rest of him. She thought, briefly, that his hair didn’t fit. Then she shook off her odd thoughts and realized she was staring.
Lori forced herself to look away only to find the bartender on the other side helping out a gaggle of early twentysomethings wearing as little as possible.
“The key to the death stare is never letting your eyes wander away,” Lori said, and when it appeared the bartender was turning around, she lifted her hand in the air.
He didn’t see her.
“I messed you up, my apologies.” He pushed in closer, their shoulders brushed against the other’s.
“I can have him put your drink on my room.” The realization that he was hitting on her created a swirl of chaos inside her. Lori’s job was to acclimate the First Wives into their new single life, not trying to get lucky on her weeklong cruise.
Lori turned to find him watching from a good five inches above her head. She liked them tall. “That would be rude of me, seeing as I don’t even know your name.”
He extended his hand, his palm warmed hers with a spark. “Mr. Single.”
Lori hesitated and then laughed. “You were listening.”
“Three beautiful women show up at the bar, and men watch.”
Lori cocked her head. “There were four of us.”
“Three beautiful and one captivating.” He squeezed her palm before letting go.
Her cheeks warmed. “Are you a salesman, Mr. Single?”
“I can be.”
She looked him up and down, made sure he knew she was sizing him up this time. “Personal trainer?”
“Every day but Sunday.” He met her eyes with a full kilowatt of charm.
He was joking, but she liked the flirty banter. “What’s wrong with working out on Sunday?”
“Nothing. I prefer to take my workouts outside of the gym on Sunday.” He had a decent tan, so she assumed that meant the beach, or maybe a hiking trip. “What about you? Professional model?”
Lori rolled her eyes. “Really? Your lines were better a minute ago.”
“You’re right. You seem much too put together for such a flighty profession. Doctor?”
Lori played along, mainly to avoid him asking the next question and suggesting lawyer. Because for some strange reason, announcing she was a divorce attorney while on the cruise with three of her female clients didn’t feel right. Besides, the less this stranger knew about her, the better. “You guessed it. Doctor.”
“Of?” He didn’t believe her.
“Anthropology.”
He snickered.
“What, I could be. Especially in a bar on a cruise ship sailing the Mediterranean. Lots of great people to study here.”
“That would make me an anthropologist in training, since watching people is my greatest strength.”
The bartender walked by and Lori shouted out the need for her check.
“Body language is important when selling used cars.”
His smile slid, but his eyes did that twinkle thing. He sized her up slowly. “I bet you’re into yoga?”
“Only on Sunday,” she said with a laugh.
“Why only Sunday?”
“Because the rest of the week I’m shimmying up a pole and collecting one-dollar bills all night.”
If she had to guess, the way he shifted his hips meant her comment made his mind go there.
“Now that I’d like to see.”
The bartender handed her the bill and walked away. She wrote her room number and scribbled a signature.
“Next time you’re in Vegas, let me know. I’ll hook you up.”
Mr. Single leaned back as their flirting came to a close. “A pole dancing stripper needs to work a lot of hours to afford a cruise like this.”
“Nawh, she just needs a sugar daddy, now if you’ll excuse me, my friends are waiting.”
He turned as she walked away. “Until next time, Miss Single.”
She lifted her hands. “I’m here all week.”
“Lucky me.”
Lori laughed as she walked away, ignoring the heat of his stare on her ass.
Chapter Four
Sugar daddy. Reed couldn’t help but wonder if Miss Single had one of those, past or present. He enjoyed the view as she sashayed away. Honey blonde hair, a sparkle in her blue eyes that wasn’t flighty like her overly animated friend’s. There had been a smirk behind her serious expression, and when she had started on the pole dancing line. She had curves, and that ass . . . yeah, a week on the open sea pursuing that one was a challenge he happily accepted. His eyes landed on the bill, which had her room number on it. One of the penthouse suites. He wasn’t surprised. This woman, and those she surrounded herself with, dripped with sophistication and money.
He took a pull on his longneck beer and opened the daily itinerary the ship provided. He reached for the pen left behind by Miss Single and circled a singles mixer dance party for late
r that night. None of the women Miss Single was with wore wedding rings, so it was safe to say he’d find them among the unattached on the ship.
His phone buzzed. A number from the States displayed without a name.
“Reed,” he answered, 99 percent sure who the caller was.
“How is Spain?” the female voice asked.
“Balmy.”
“I trust your accommodations are satisfactory.”
He glanced around the deck. “They’ll work,” he said without humor.
“Anything to report?”
“I’ve located my target.”
“Well, I hope so. That suite didn’t come cheap.”
Reed looked around the Haven’s private accommodations and was glad he wasn’t paying the bill.
“She’s traveling with friends.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know yet, I’ve been on board less than an hour.”
She muttered something crass. “I will call you in Rome.”
“Until Rome.” He hung up and signaled the bartender for his bill.
“Don’t look.”
Funny how when someone tells you not to look, that’s exactly what you want to do. Lori found her eyes drifting from the spinning ball on the roulette table.
Shannon elbowed her gently.
Lori snapped her attention away from the table.
“He cannot take his eyes off you.”
“Who?”
The croupier called out the number, placed his marker on the board, and paid out the winners. Sadly, Lori wasn’t one of them.
She took the moment to pick up her drink and briefly scan the room.
Sure enough, Mr. Single stood on the opposing side of the craps table, watching her.
Instead of pretending she didn’t notice him, she lifted her glass in salute and smiled. It felt good to flirt, even though it was against her better judgment.
His answering grin was mixed with mischief.
“That’s the guy you were telling us about, isn’t it?” Shannon asked.
“Sure is.”
“Wow, he is something to look at.”
Lori hummed.
“Needs a haircut, though.”
Lori broke eye contact with him and turned to Shannon. “I know, right?” She set her chips on the table and stood back.
“Place your bets,” the croupier told them. Shannon leaned across Lori to reach the higher numbers.
When Lori looked back up, Mr. Single was gone. A hair of disappointment wiggled up her spine.
“Thirty-one black.”
Shannon high-fived Lori. “Whoop, whoop!”
Her five-dollar chip sat on the line between thirty-one and twenty-eight.
“Next round is on you,” Lori teased.
Shannon collected her money and generously placed her bets. She glanced up. “Where did he go?”
“Who knows?” Lori looked at her hand of dwindling chips, promising to walk away if she didn’t win on the next turn of the wheel. Just then her skin prickled and her palms started to itch.
“Red.” His voice came from behind her, his lips close to her ear.
She forced herself not to smile. “You’re sure?” she asked.
The croupier spun the wheel and released the ball.
“Forty-eight percent sure.”
She looked up and down the table, remembered the green zero and double zeros. She put twenty on red and scattered another twenty bucks on various red numbers.
“No more bets.”
The ball started to bounce.
Lori held her breath.
“Fourteen, red.”
“Okay, then. I guess I owe you a drink,” Lori said as she peeked over her shoulder to find Mr. Single staring.
“Hello.” Shannon peered from Lori’s other side.
“Hello,” he replied, then narrowed his eyes. “Aren’t you—”
Lori panicked and lifted a finger to his lips as if she had a right.
His amused eyes widened as he reached to touch her hand.
“My friend is on vacation.” Lori hoped her words kept him from bringing unwanted attention to Shannon. “Far away from home.”
His eyes told her he understood. With a tiny squeeze of her hand, he let her go.
Shannon tilted her head. “Thank you. Do you have a name other than Mr. Single?”
“You’ve been talking about me.”
Lori felt like she was sixteen years old, caught talking about the new kid in school. She tried to hide her embarrassment.
He reached across Lori. “I’m Reed.”
“Nice to meet you, Reed. This is my friend Lori.”
“Lori.” It sounded as if he was testing her name with the weight of the sigh he used when saying it.
The heat on her neck felt unnatural.
“Now that we have the names straight, what should I bet on now?”
The ball was already rolling.
“Let it ride on red.”
“I never let it ride.”
He stopped her hand from pulling her chips away. His lips moved close to her ear again. “What are you worried about, losing Sugar Daddy’s money?”
Before she could pull the chips away, the croupier waved a hand over the table, indicating she’d lost her opportunity to back out.
“Twenty-seven, red.”
She sighed, and once she’d been paid out, she removed her chips. Not that she worried about losing forty dollars. Hell, she was down two hundred and she’d only been in the casino for forty minutes. Gambling in general was outside her control spectrum. A little bit was fine, exciting even . . . but if any real money was involved, she’d probably break out in hives before the ball settled on a number.
“No guts to do it again?” Reed asked.
She pointed to the table. “Where’s your bet?”
“Touché.” He removed his wallet, placed a hundred-dollar bill on red.
The croupier made quick work of removing the cash and replacing it with several green chips.
Less than a minute later, twenty-one, red was called.
Lori stood back to watch, her hands tightening in on themselves with each rotation of the ball.
All she noticed was the color when the ball dropped.
Red.
Reed let it ride.
“You’re nuts,” she whispered.
Lori wasn’t sure if his reckless gambling was because of his cocky self-assuredness or if he was just a man using his money to flirt with her. Either one was slightly flattering.
Four spins later, Reed was up sixteen hundred dollars. Only then did he pull off the hundred dollars he started with.
“You’re going to leave it there?”
He shrugged with a grin.
The other players at the table were watching. Others were putting their money on black, muttering his luck was about to run out.
Lori held her breath, the ball bounced. “Twelve, red.”
Even Shannon was speechless.
Lori was sweating, and it wasn’t her money.
“You’re not a gambler,” he observed.
She looked up to find his eyes laughing at her. “Apparently not.”
“Sir?” the croupier caught Reed’s attention.
He smirked like it was a natural thing for him to leave three grand on the table riding on a color. “Leave it,” Reed told him.
By now a small crowd had gathered to watch.
Lori leaned in. “You’re crazy.”
He leaned closer. “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone, Lori. You should try it.”
None of the other players placed bets on the table as the ball rolled.
“Three, red.”
“Dude is lucky.”
“Holy crap,” a man behind them said.
The noise grew around them as spectators took in Reed’s pile of chips, chips equaling six thousand dollars that looked like a pot of gold to Lori.
“Sir?”
“Well, Lori, should I walk aw
ay?”
Walk, hell, she’d be running.
Her heart sped and she found herself shaking her head. “Let it ride.” She couldn’t believe the words came from her lips. She wanted to retract them but heard an opposing counsel in her head shouting “objection.”
He winked. “You’re learning.”
Shannon leaned close. “Crazy.”
The croupier signaled his manager.
The delay in spinning the wheel had Lori looking around. She glanced at the plaque on the table indicating a five-thousand-dollar limit.
The manager spoke with the croupier and glanced at the previous winning red numbers on the digital board above the table. A single nod and the ball spun.
Lori gripped the edge of the table, her eyes following the ball, with suspended breath.
Just when the ball bounced onto twenty-one, red, it flipped out and settled on four.
“Four, black.” The deep tone of the croupier sounded as disappointed as Lori felt.
A collective sigh from those watching hummed in the air, and the six thousand dollars in chips were taken away.
Lori hung her head, her hands still buzzed with excitement.
Reed reached across the table, leaving the hundred dollars he started with at the croupier’s side as a tip.
“Well, that was fun,” Shannon said with a lift in her voice.
“How about that drink?” Reed asked Lori.
The music from the singles mixer was blaring through the doors of the ship’s nightclub.
Lori was keenly aware of the proximity of the man moving beside her. She hadn’t felt this high on a man’s attention in so long that she had forgotten how warm and fuzzies felt.
“There’s Avery and Trina,” Shannon said over the noise of the music and people.
The three of them weaved through the crowd until they reached the high-top table their friends were standing around.
Avery sized Reed up before saying hello. “Are you Mr. Single?”
Lori felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment.
He reached out a hand. “I’m Reed.”
Avery made a little growling noise and winked at Lori before introducing herself and Trina.
“You need one of these.” Avery took a pen and self-sticking nametags from the table and started to write down their names.
“What’s this for?” Shannon asked.
Fool Me Once (First Wives Series Book 1) Page 6