“Someone has to do it.” Luke smiled but the usual sparkle didn’t appear in his eyes.
The elevator opened at her floor, and she wasn’t surprised to have Luke follow her out and down the hall to her cabin to wait while she shoved open the door.
Over her shoulder he did a quick visual, and this time his eyes twinkled brightly when he smiled at her. “See you at dinner.”
She was going to have to make up her mind. Even if Luke didn’t have a high-risk job, and regardless how he seemed—with every hour—to dig himself deeper under her skin, he wasn’t likely to be looking for a relationship anyhow.
The cabin steward had already left her a new folded-towel animal on the bed. A peacock. She almost laughed. Beautiful and captivating. Just like Luke Chapman. And the question still lingered: to fling or not to fling?
* * *
Seated at the head of the table, Herbie dropped his napkin and, leaning over, whispered to Luke. “Anything new?”
Luke gave a minimal shake of his head. There’d been no time to contact Kate. On land he’d kept his cell on Roam just in case she had some breaking news for him. But nothing. They’d have to wait for the music trivia contest tonight and try to get George talking after the game.
“Oh, look.” Sophia broke away from her conversation with Sharla and waved her fingers in the air.
His back to the door, Luke saw no need to turn and look. Gloria Bailey’s perfume smacked him upside the head twenty seconds before she reached the table.
“So glad you decided to join us.” Sophia smiled at Gloria and George, then glanced over to Herbie and Luke. “We bumped into each other in the ladies’ room a little while ago.”
“We have the most boring table.” Gloria took an empty seat. “One honeymoon couple who can’t stop making goo-goo eyes long enough to chew, never mind talk. And two sisters from Wyoming. I didn’t know people really lived there. All they talk about is sheep. Ack.”
“So naturally I said they should join us, since we have these two extra chairs.” Sophia beamed a little too brightly for a mere friendly gesture.
The same gut feeling Luke had when Conway had talked him into taking this cruise reared its head. Sophia’s grin shouted ulterior motive. But what in heaven’s name could the old bird want with George and Gloria?
Sophia and Herbie moved over a place so George could sit by his wife. In no time at all George and Herbie were already engrossed in sports talk, but Luke knew Herbie was just waiting for an opening. Gloria on the other hand seemed to have a mind only for food. For a thin woman, she ate like the proverbial horse. She’d ordered two appetizers, the salad, and the New York strip steak with grilled shrimp.
He couldn’t tell if Sharla’s eyes were wide from the amount of food Gloria had ordered or the size of the rock Gloria kept waving in front of Sharla’s face. An inch closer and she could take out an eye with the thing.
Sophia seemed to be the only one engrossed in the tiny menu, but he’d noticed her gaze shift from the specials to the hand Gloria kept waving about as her mouth prattled on about the secret to weight control being the right balance of protein, carbs and fat. He suspected a good plastic surgeon was probably her true secret weapon but thought it safer to refrain from commenting. He also debated if Sophia’s interest was in her granddaughter’s safety or the size of the ring that had almost smacked him in the face as well, on that first day on the ship.
Ordering only the salad and the Chilean bass, Sophia gave the waiter that sweet doting smile that made Luke think of lilacs and crocheted afghans and all things granny, then she looked up at George. “So, what are your and Gloria’s plans for when we dock in San Juan tomorrow?”
The way George puffed up before speaking, Luke already knew George was going to start bragging on his real estate ventures.
“Actually I’m going to hire a car and head out to the site of my next project.”
“Oh, Herbie mentioned you’re in real estate. Such an interesting business, but I have such a terrible head for numbers. I’d never be able to understand it.”
“Not what I do.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, we all know the real money to be made is in the resort land deals. There are so many small investors who can’t amass enough funds to buy into a large opportunity alone, but together…” He raised a forefinger at her and winked. “Together they can play with the big boys.”
“You make it sound more like fun than business. What part in this dealmaking do you have?” Sophia leaned back for the waiter to set her salad in front of her. The entire table remained quiet as the two servers set a dish before each of them.
As soon as the waitstaff were gone, George continued his explanation. “I keep an eye out for underdeveloped property with resort potential. Many Caribbean islands have limited economies in the main cities and ports, but, with the right backing, private resorts in the outskirts become popular tourist destinations.”
“Especially the ones for honeymoons,” Gloria added between bites of her escargot.
“Then what?” Sophia pressed.
“A corporation is formed and investors put money into a pool in exchange for shares in the new company. Those funds are then used to buy small parcels of land at a good price. Once all the parcels are bought up, the corporation sells the land as a package to the developers for a nice profit.”
Luke saw the opening to get more info and pounced. “You’ve found a good site in San Juan?”
“Not San Juan proper of course. On the east side of the island.”
Not wanting to seem too interested, Luke paused, stabbing at a lettuce leaf. “Really? Why is this site a contender?”
“Pristine beaches. Off the beaten path, but not too far from the main highway. Building roads and bringing in infrastructure will be done at a minimal cost. Big companies put the local sugar cane growers out of business long ago. The nearby small village is dying, and the descendants are ready to move on to bigger and better things. The timing is right.”
Sophia cut into her fish. “Sounds perfect.”
“It really is. The locals call it Miracle Bend. Back in the late eighteen hundreds, an epidemic of what historians believe might have been typhoid fever hit that side of the island. There used to be a small catholic monastery nearby. They took in the sick, instructed the locals in the then-unheard-of practices of boiling for sterilization, and washing their hands before handling food and water. The spread of the disease slowed, the sick began to recover and, as far as the locals were concerned, the monks saved the people and the economy. Which at the time relied heavily on having enough people to work the sugar cane.”
“Great story.” Herbie pointed to George with his fork. “Tourists love local color. Too bad I didn’t bump into George here sooner. All the company shares have been sold.”
Sophia blew out a heavy sigh, her entire body deflating with the departed breath. “Well, that’s just a shame. I’ve had a little money tucked away looking for the right investment, and this seems like the perfect fit for me. I have the money, and you have the brains.”
Saint George blustered and grinned. “You are too kind.”
“I’ve had almost a hundred grand sitting in the bank earning pennies for so long, maybe you can keep me in mind for your next project?”
For a few seconds George’s complexion grew so pale, Luke wondered if Sophia had just given the man a heart attack, but, before anyone else noticed his reaction, George cleared his throat and leaned slightly forward over his empty plate. “If you two would like to tag along tomorrow and see for yourselves, I can have the accountant double-check all the files and confirm we’re sold out.”
“Ooh.” Sophia clapped her hands together excitedly. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful, Herbie, if there were a few more shares available?”
Herbie’s gaze bore into Sophia. “Yes. Yes it would.”
Chapter Fourteen
Something was going on, and, though Sharla didn’t have a clue what, she was positive she didn’t
like it. Since when did Nana have a hundred grand sitting in the bank collecting dust? The whole reason they shared a house was to cut back on expenses. And what was all this business about real estate? Why in heaven’s name would her grandmother want to buy into a resort? Of all the things… Oh, shit.
Surely after all these years her grandmother wasn’t coming out of retirement. To the best of Sharla’s knowledge, her grandmother hadn’t been involved in a real con since Grandpa had died. How Sharla wished she’d paid more attention to the stories. What were all the cons? The Shell Game, The Wire, The Pay Up…or was it Payoff? Blast.
And which the hell one involved buying into land development deals? Except…wasn’t it usually the crook who offered up the phony sale, not the other way around? But there were all sorts of cons where the grifter pretended to offer up a ton of cash to get what they wanted from the mark. Look at all the stupid Internet scams about inherited millions from a country no one ever heard of.
What she needed was a deep breath and a stiff drink. After all the games and entertainment tonight, when they got back to the cabin, she’d just ask Nana what was what. That’s all. Nice and simple.
“Sharla?”
She felt the warmth of Luke’s hand on her arm before she heard her name. That was twice today that the slightest of his touches had her full attention. “Hmm?”
“I’m skipping dessert. Have a couple of things to see to before trivia tonight.” His hand remained in place, and, when she hesitated while her mind struggled to process his words, his thumb moved back and forth with the barest of caresses. “You okay?”
Dropping her gaze to watch his finger graze across her wrist, she realized she didn’t want him to stop. Didn’t want him to get up and leave. Forcing herself to raise her gaze to meet his, the depth of concern she found in his eyes slammed into her like a middle linebacker. She nodded, afraid to speak. Afraid of the words that might slip through the filters in her brain.
His thumb stopped moving, but his hand didn’t move. “You sure?”
“Yes,” she mumbled softly.
Hesitantly he pulled away, and she stopped herself from snatching his hand back. Made herself look toward the others. Wondered how everyone else could be chatting so completely unaware of the energy sparking between her and Luke. And stumped by what to do about it.
* * *
During the entire walk from the dining room to the computer stations, Luke failed to push Sharla from his thoughts. Something had been bothering her. He didn’t have to be a damn mind reader to know that much. What he did know was that he didn’t like seeing her worried or upset. And that got him thinking about what had caused the little dip in her brow which told him that she wasn’t lost in happy thoughts.
Seated at the computer, he typed a message to Kate.
LUKE: Got more info. Possible previous deals in Fiji and Barbados. Current deal east of San Juan.
Kate’s dialogue box popped up. Hi, there.
LUKE: Hi. How goes it?
KATE: Fine. Some muckety-muck is up Conway’s butt. He doesn’t have time to notice a little side work.
LUKE: Good. This new place, the locals call it Miracle Bend. Something about monks and typhoid fever. Used to be sugar cane fields.
KATE: Okay…got it!
LUKE: Knew you would, babe.
KATE: Officially it’s Puerto de Nueva Granada, the harbor for the abandoned village Nueva Granada.
LUKE: So I heard. Who owns the land?
KATE: Let’s see.
He stared at the blank screen willing the right words to flash before him.
KATE: Hmm. I’m going to need some time to dig a little deeper.
LUKE: What is it? As if he expected the guy to be legit.
KATE: Unless your guy is the department of agriculture…
LUKE: Definitely not.
KATE: Let me dig. There’s some weird shit here about surfers.
Surfers?
LUKE: OK. I’ll check back later.
KATE: See ya!
LUKE: Thanks again.
KATE: Anything for that smile!
And before he could type Back at you, she was gone.
By the time he made it to the lounge for trivia, his five tablemates were ready to play and had saved him a seat. Next to Sharla.
With a smile, Sophia handed him a spare pencil. “Thought you were going to miss the start. Hope you’re a Michael Jackson fan.”
“Never miss a date with you.” He grinned back. Truth was, he was enjoying the games just as much as Sophia. Even if they weren’t a matter of life or death. “We’ll have to see about Michael.”
The first tune had most people in the room under forty scratching their heads.
Sophia immediately wrote “Rocking Robin.”
When a few of the younger folks were stumped, they protested that wasn’t a Michael Jackson song. Becky, the brunette from the cruise staff, explained tonight’s contest included hits from the Jackson Five. The frowns abounding in the crowd indicated they were not pleased with the prospect.
Luke had to laugh. All this fuss over winning a key chain or highlighter. Now if they were giving free drinks…
Between the four of them—Sophia, Sharla, Gloria and him—they should have nailed them all. That is if Gloria knew her Michael Jackson as well as she had claimed.
Herbie and George were doing their best to carry on a conversation without annoying Sophia.
Though Luke tried to keep one ear on the two men’s talk, he was having more fun dissecting the first five notes of some of the biggest hits of the nineties.
Fifteen minutes later Sophia was doing her winning shimmies, and the six of them had cruise line money belts.
Luke still didn’t get why the cruise line didn’t just give out vouchers for a free drink. The company had to know most of these prizes were going to wind up in a trash can between here and the passengers’ kitchens back home.
“Now where to?” Gloria seemed more excited tonight than any other night.
And she deserved it. She’d been right on the six songs that had the rest of them stumped. The woman knew her Michael Jackson. She’d turned out to be smarter than Luke had expected about a lot of the trivia. Tonight they’d been the only team to get all twenty tunes correct.
“I vote for craps.” Sophia raised her fists and shook her shoulders. “I’m feeling lucky.”
Herbie glanced over, and Luke was pretty sure he saw the guy salivating. Herbie clearly had it bad for the feisty old bird. And Luke couldn’t blame Herbie. If Luke had been fifteen years older, and Sophia fifteen years younger, he’d have fallen for her himself. Though it gave him a good picture of what to expect with Sharla in thirty or forty years.
Thirty or forty years? Was that what he wanted?
Shaking her head at her grandmother, Sharla had undone the plastic wrapping, extended the strap, and hung the versatile pouch from her neck. “I vote for the show. We haven’t seen one yet.”
“Tonight’s the comedian. I heard he’s pretty good.” Herbie said this more to Sophia than the group.
“Nope,” Sophia responded. “I don’t want to sit in a chair and watch. I want to participate.” She whipped out her trusty daily report. “I suppose we could do poolside bingo after dark.”
“I love bingo.” Gloria rubbed her hands together. “Besides, I’m with Sophia. I’m feeling lucky.”
“Then I guess bingo it is.” Herbie held his arm out to Sophia, George followed suit, and Luke stared at Sharla.
The next thirty years of his life were running through his mind in fast forward, and, try as he might, none of it seemed right without Sharla. He slowly extended his elbow to her. “Shall we join them?”
Sliding her hand into the crook of his arm, she flashed that smile that felt like warm sunshine. “At least it’s not craps.”
He wasn’t so sure about that. Something told him that, if he tossed the dice and went after Sharla tonight with the life he had now, he’d roll snake eyes.
The lounge emptied quickly. Many of the trivia players hurried to the late-night dinner seating. Others left in search of who-knew-what. Only a few settled in for another drink and the soft sounds of the famous crooners from the fifties flowing from the sound system.
Having led the way, George and Gloria were already out of sight. Herbie and Sophia were at the top of the three steps exiting the lounge when Sharla’s grip on his arm tightened, her eyes widening.
Before Luke could see what had stopped Sharla, a hard thud sounded across the room followed by a loud smack.
“Oh, no.” Sharla’s gaze settled on a stunned man standing over a puddle of a woman at his feet. “Did you hear her head hit?”
Everyone should have heard the sound. A nearby waiter stopped to look in the couple’s direction, but Becky, the staff member, was surrounded by a small group of chatty passengers oblivious to the accident.
Sharla had already changed trajectory when the man leaned over, arms outstretched, obviously about to move his wife away from the bottom of the stairs.
“No!” Sharla screamed loud enough for the man to hear and to pierce a few eardrums as well. Letting go of Luke’s arm, she bolted over a stool and around the meandering passengers, landing at the older woman’s side before her husband could touch her. “You don’t want to move her.”
Luke’s instincts had been the same as Sharla’s. He’d practically sailed across the room after her, when the guy had tried to move his wife. Luke might not be a medic or trauma nurse, but even he knew the risks of moving an injured person.
Bending down, Sharla did a quick assessment and hollered across to Becky, “She’s out cold. Call the doctor.” Then she placed one hand on the woman’s chest while she checked for a pulse with the other.
The woman’s husband stood paralyzed, watching Sharla examine his wife.
“She’s breathing fine and the pulse, although weak and thready, is palpable.” Glancing up at the woman’s husband, she asked, ““Does your wife have a history of falling?”
He shook his head.
“Dizzy spells?”
Another head shake. “No. Nothing. Her doctor says she’s as healthy as a woman ten years younger.”
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