“Monkey hanging from the ceiling.”
Her eyes did that rounded thing again. “How’d they do that?”
“With a coat hanger.”
“I hope I get one.”
“It’s a long cruise. I’m sure we’re going to see quite a menagerie.”
The elevator opened on the fifth floor. She stepped out and came to an abrupt stop when he followed her. “You really don’t have to do this.”
“I’m heading to the computer stations on the other end of the ship. You’re on my way.”
He recognized the moment she resigned herself to an escort. Her breath blew out heavily, and her shoulders relaxed. But the giveaway was the gentle shaking of her head. “You win.”
He didn’t even try to hold back the smile that took over his face. “I always do.”
* * *
Each step down the narrow hall made Sharla more intimately aware of the man at her heels. Ignoring him was becoming increasingly difficult. Especially since he seemed intent on inserting himself in her path at every turn. Which, considering they appeared to be one of the few single adults on the ship under the age of sixty, shouldn’t come as a surprise to her. She just wished he wasn’t so…much.
At her room, she slid in the keycard, dipped the handle and shoving open the heavy door, turned to glance at him over her shoulder. Determination to hurry inside and keep away from the temptation that was Luke Chapman waged a small war with the sappy girl who wanted to simply stand there and stare at him. Or worse, pull him into her arms and kiss him until they docked in the next port.
Luke bobbed his head and, to her chagrin, took a step back. “I don’t think I need to check under the bed for the bogeyman.”
Words wouldn’t come. The innocent mention of a bed in Luke’s deep hypnotic voice was enough to turn her mouth dry, and make other places wet and moist. The best she could do was shake her head, and even then she wanted very much to nod and have him come check under the bed, around the bed, on the bed. Dear heavens, what was she doing to herself?
“Good night.”
His voice had dropped an octave, and the raspy sound had her almost regretting her no-flings rule. But learning he’d been a navy man only confirmed her initial impressions and explained the determined-bachelor thing. A girl in every port and all that.
Swallowing hard, she croaked “Good night” and, closing the cabin door behind her, fell heavily against it. Her heart racing like an overeager thoroughbred. It was definitely time to make a change in her life. Someplace in South Florida there had to be a banker or an insurance salesman with piercing eyes, a voice that could melt butter and a body that screamed “take me for the ride of your life.” Right. And the Queen of England drank coffee not tea.
* * *
Too damn close for comfort. When Sharla had turned to face him, Luke swore he’d seen the same raw need reflected in her eyes that pumped through his veins. He also saw vulnerability and confusion and an emotion that had him taking a step back—fear.
His every nerve ending was still hyperaware of her. She might as well be standing next to him and not in her cabin down the hall. Even though it had been hours since the casual hug, there was no shaking the feel of her. Walking past one of the many cocktail lounges, he was tempted to grab a beer to take off some of the edge, but he knew he’d need a hell of a lot more than a few drinks to get Sharla out of his system.
Time to focus. Taking the stairs to the next deck up, Luke ran through the back of his mind what he’d observed today of Herbie and George, not allowing himself to think of Sharla. Finding an isolated cubicle in the far corner, and ignoring the grossly overpriced minutes, he logged onto the ship’s Internet. Five very long minutes later he was barely able to maneuver his way through the slow-moving cyberworld in search of a middle-aged George Bailey.
This was insane. Going a different route, he typed in a personal message address for Kate, the tech genius at his office, and wrote Hi, beautiful. Within seconds, a box popped up in the corner of his screen.
KATE: Back at ya, handsome. This is a surprise.
Any past interaction between him and Kate had always happened on The Company’s accounts. Since this was neither business, nor did he want his boss to discover he was not totally resting, he approached Kate on her personal account. Besides, if anything came of his inquiries, it would be best if none of this were traceable through official channels.
LUKE: On the high seas as ordered. I need a favor. Her lack of response lasted a bit too long, then the little stars that showed her typing finally appeared.
KATE: If I lose my job, you get to supplement my unemployment.
LUKE: Absolutely! He didn’t need to worry about that. Techno geeks with the skill set of Kate—and honest to boot—were not that easy to find. The Company would turn many a blind eye before letting her go.
KATE: Liar. Whatcha need?
Steadily he gave her all the info, what little there was, on George.
KATE: I may be good, Bigboy, but I’m not that good. I need something else. A birth date, hometown, high school. Even narrowing it down to men over forty and under seventy with wives named Gloria, and assuming he was born somewhere in New England because he’s a Red Sox and Bruins fan, I’ve still got triple-digit possibilities.
LUKE: What about Herbert Klein? Former Philadelphia policeman, retired. Former Marine, probably around—Before he could finish typing, a new pop-up box sprang open.
KATE: Wow. Two silver stars, a Purple Heart, commendations for valor. The list goes on. He should have his own TV show.
That made Luke laugh. He could picture it now, Herbie and a couple of old war cronies in plaid shorts, white socks and sandals, setting up shop as PIs, chasing bad guys for sixty minutes every Thursday night at eight o’clock.
LUKE: I’m looking for something out of the ordinary and recent.
KATE: Nada. This guy makes squeaky clean look dirty. Wife Marjorie passed away thirty years ago. No children. Never remarried. Shares a condo with his brother-in-law, also a widower. Volunteers for Habitat for Humanity and a local soup kitchen.
So why the hell is he following George?
LUKE: Keep poking around, please. I’ll check in tomorrow night to see if you found anything.
KATE: Will do, and don’t break too many hearts.
He knew she was grinning at him. Kate had worked IT at The Company for eons before he’d arrived. She was over forty and dressed like a college coed on the make. He had no idea if she was married or single, had kids of the two or four-legged variety or how the heck she managed to find obscure data in the blink of an eye, but she always came through.
KATE: Got something. May not mean anything but, around six months ago, his brother-in-law moved some serious change around and then nada.
LUKE: How serious?
KATE: Almost all he had. Fifty thousand.
Luke whistled. Still had no idea how she accessed information like that so fast, but, if she were here, he’d get down on bended knee and kiss her feet.
LUKE: You’re still my only girl. Keep working on Bailey.
KATE: Slave driver.
Cringing at the amount of time he’d spent logged on to the ship’s computer, he signed off and decided to see if Mr. Bailey was still out and about. Keeping an eye on the guy would be easier on Luke than going back to his cabin to crawl into bed alone, stare at the ceiling and think of Sharla. Nope. R & R was overrated. Time to track down one George and Gloria Bailey.
Chapter Ten
When the hell had he grown so much older? Luke rolled over and climbed out of bed at…9:00 a.m. It was a SEAL’s standard to be fit, to be at the ready anytime, anywhere. The last two years under deep cover had kept him from partying all night, but who knew at only thirty-four that a bunch of ladies in red-hats could wear him out?
Especially the one in the wide-brim hat with an hourglass figure. The woman laughed from deep down in her gut, and her smiles always shone in her eyes. Cougar or not, any other time o
r place, and he would have been slipping and buttering a whole other kind of nipple. Instead they’d done one nipple shot after another, sang along with the piano man—who could most likely outplay Billy Joel—and, when the group of partying females finally called it a night at four in the morning, his sides hurt from laughing; his head hummed from too much booze; and Sharla was still the only woman on his mind.
Splashing cool water on his face now, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes and then dared to look into the mirror. His hair sticking out every which way, and his eyes bloodshot with dark circles underneath, he’d scare his own mother. He had a little less than an hour before meeting Sharla and the gang for morning trivia. If he could manage a fast shower and shave without his head rolling off his shoulders, he could slip in a couple of cups of java before having to face the world.
Three cups of coffee and a plate of scrambled eggs with bacon later, Luke felt almost human. If he wanted to keep going with an early morning fitness routine—so he could return to work when his thirty days were up—there would have to be no more partying with the red-hat ladies. Just to further clear his head, he’d make sure to hit the gym after trivia and make up for the morning workout he’d skipped.
“Good morning, sunshine.” Sophia patted the seat next to her.
Sharla looked up from her electronic reader, raised her lips in a quick smile before returning her attention to her book, and Luke felt his breath clog. She had no right to be so damn sexy in a baggy cover-up, a ponytail and no makeup. He had it bad. And somehow he was going to have to get over it. He was not a permanent kind of guy, and Sharla had commitment required oozing from every pore.
Besides, even if he were looking for that special someone to come home to after a mission, Sharla had already determined his career path was not acceptable. All he had to do was remind himself of that whenever the urge crept up to pull her into his arms. Of course the smarter thing to do would be to simply walk away before he got to know her any better and before she worked her way deeper under his skin. But today he wasn’t in the mood to be smart.
“All ready for the trivia this morning?” he asked.
“Always.” Sophia flashed a sly smile that suddenly shifted wide and bright.
Luke didn’t have to turn around to know that Herbie had to be approaching.
Rather than sit across from Sophia in the vacant seat, Herbie pulled over a stool and sat beside her. “Morning, ladies.”
Sophia’s eyes sparked at the gesture, and Luke bit back a smile of his own. It was nice to know someday, when he was ready, there would still be a nice old gal willing to take on his dowdy old self. Plaid shorts and all. Luke cleared his throat to remind Herbie of his presence.
“And gentleman,” Herbie added.
“Done.” Sharla slid her e-reader into the fabric pouch beside her. “Sorry about that. I only had the epilogue left, and I really didn’t want to wait to finish.”
“My late wife always had her nose in a book. The stack of paperbacks by the bed often multiplied into two or three piles.” His gaze dropped, and, when he glanced back up, sadness lingered. “She read through almost every last one in the end.”
Sophia’s small hand slipped over his and squeezed.
When the moment passed, Luke noticed Sophia hadn’t let go. By the time the trivia game was ready to start, Herbie had woven his fingers with hers.
When Sharla returned with the multiple pencils and sheets of papers, the older couple’s hands were still linked together. The frown that dipped to the bridge of her nose was brief, but he’d caught it. From everything Kate had said last night about Herbie Klein, Sharla didn’t have a thing to worry about. The guy was as stand-up as they came.
This morning’s trivia went much like yesterday afternoon’s. There was only one question which nobody had any idea about. What is the traditional five-year-anniversary gift?
Answer sheets had already been exchanged among the teams with one answer left to check, when Gloria came sauntering into the lounge area and practically slithered into the empty chair. “Am I very late?”
Sharla coughed. Sophia blinked. Herbie scowled, and Luke wondered if Gloria’s grasp of time was any better for her masseuse and stylist appointments.
“Last answer to the last question,” Jose, on the crew staff, announced. “What is the traditional fifth anniversary present?”
“Wood,” Gloria answered in chorus with Jose, oblivious to the daggers Sophia’s glare cast in her direction.
Luke was surprised the time challenged woman knew anything aside from the diamond and platinum anniversaries.
As the pages were returned to the rightful teams, George strode over and pulled up a stool beside Herbie.
“Glad you could join us.” The sarcasm in Gloria’s voice belied the sweet expression, though Luke was more intrigued at the implication that she’d been waiting for more than thirty seconds.
“Business is business, dear.”
Herbie stiffened in his seat, and Luke wished Kate had been able to provide more information on Mr. George Bailey.
As Sophia sprang up to collect her prize for seventeen correct responses, Luke turned to George. “What business are you in?”
“Real estate.” George leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Smartest move I ever made. Glory and I are set for life.” With that, George sat back and waited.
But not for long, as Sophia stood over them, handing out the game-winning prizes: highlighters.
Herbie propped his ankle across his knee and, with a tsking noise, added, “Must be nice. My portfolio barely trickles in.”
Gloria asked Sharla about the book she had just finished.
Another surprise since Luke hadn’t expected Gloria to be the sort to have a hobby other than shopping. While Sophia interjected a comment here or there, Luke could tell her attention weighed more heavily on the conversation between Herbie and George.
“So your current investment isn’t your first resort to buy into?” Herbie asked.
George puffed up and shook his head. “No. First time I invested in a start-up resort was about five years ago. Turks and Caicos. Beautiful spot. Glory and I were staying at the same hotel as the land developer. I barely got in on the bottom floor of that one.”
“Very fortuitous.” Luke studied George. If the guy was blowing smoke, he’d had a lot of practice. Didn’t flinch at the potentially double-edged comment. Could probably pass a lie detector if Luke had one handy.
“So you’ve invested in more than one?” Herbie signaled for the waiter. “What’ll you have?” he asked George, clearly planning to keep him talking.
“Thanks, scotch.”
Herbie looked to Luke.
“Make mine a Bud.” No way was he touching the hard stuff at this hour of the day. And didn’t that make him feel old. Damn, what was happening to him? Couldn’t keep up with a bunch of old ladies, couldn’t crawl out of bed bright and early, couldn’t get one blonde beauty out of his mind and now couldn’t handle a real drink at eleven in the morning.
Herbie leaned back again. “You were saying.”
“Next time around,” George continued, “we got in earlier and had a bigger piece of the deal. So much undeveloped land in Fiji. More and more people are wanting that exclusive escape vacation, and Fiji has everything to offer.”
That was one thing George had right. A few years back, after his first mission with Nick Harper’s EOD team, Luke and the boys had a chance for some R & R in French Polynesia.
“You been?” George asked Luke. “You’ve got an awfully big grin on your face.”
Herbie dropped his feet to the floor. “He’s probably thinking of a woman.”
“Probably,” Luke added softly, casting a quick glimpse at Sharla to see if she was listening.
She and Gloria were deep in a discussion on the merits of romantic comedy in fiction versus on-screen.
Sophia was still only half listening to the ladies.
He simply didn’t know what to make of
her.
“Hey, handsome.”
A familiar feminine voice came from behind Luke that caught Sharla’s notice.
Luke pushed to his feet and turned to last night’s singing group. “Morning, ladies.”
Ms. Wide-Brimmed Red Hat stopped in front of him. “Did you get enough sleep?”
He could feel everyone’s gazes burning into his back. There was no need to turn around. The sudden pause in the book discussion told him that he and Red Hat Lady had Sharla’s full attention.
“Yes, thanks. And you?”
“For sure. But I’m the one who should be thanking you. You were such a good sport taking up with an old woman like me.”
Silence lingered like an awkward waiter.
“Me too,” a shorter woman with gray hair chimed in. “The old goats on this boat are no fun, and they sure as heck couldn’t have kept up with the three of us the way you did.”
Someone at the table gasped, and he realized he needed to clarify the conversation for their audience. “I’m sorry to admit my vocal skills are seriously lacking, but anytime you ladies want to close down the piano bar again, just let me know.”
And, with that bit of explanation, the conversations behind him resumed. One bullet dodged.
“I don’t suppose you play whist?” Red Hat Lady asked.
“Sorry, ma’am.” He shook his head. “My mama never got past teaching me poker.”
“Now there’s an idea.”
Her eyes twinkled with mischief, and, not for the first time, Luke gave the woman a mental pat on the back. Way to grow older with grace and fun.
“We’d better sit before the rest of the girls get here and take the good seats.”
For just a second Luke wondered if older women ever stopped thinking of themselves as girls. He certainly hoped not.
* * *
Why did Sharla want to show her claws and scratch out the red-hat woman’s eyes? Sharla had no claim on Luke, and, by the end of the conversation, she realized neither did the woman who had to be at least fifteen years older than she looked. But that didn’t change the way Sharla felt.
Shell Game Page 7