Jack & Jilted (13 page)

She looked at him…and suddenly there was a gleam in her eyes that he remembered. She leaned forward slowly, her face stopping just a few inches from his.

“There is one other complication.”

He swallowed hard. His hands gripped the edge of the bed, forcing him not to just lean in response and close the distance between them. “Yeah?” he croaked instead.

“We’d want to keep it strictly business,” she said. “And basically we’d be living together on the same ship. Close proximity…” she murmured, and there was one less inch separating them. “Constant contact.”

She brushed a hand over his. He could feel her breath tickling his chin, and his body went hard immediately.

“We’ve managed this long,” she said. “I don’t know about you, but sometimes it’s been challenging.”

Challenging. If that wasn’t the understatement of the year.

“I’m not trying to tease you here,” she said, pulling back. “I’m trying to point out a fact. I got involved with a man I was working with before. I got burned…badly.”

Lust warred with protectiveness as he took in her woebegone expression and the fact that her slight flush—and the way her breasts jutted out against her thin T-shirt—belied the fact that she was more than making a point. She was truly turned on.

He probably should have stopped himself, but by that point he didn’t care.

“You won’t get burned by me,” he said and reached out, kissing her neck and swimming in her shivers. “I’m not like him. I’m not like anybody you’ve ever been with, Chloe.”

She moaned and she gripped his arms, moving her head so her lips met his.

He kissed her, long and hard, his hands bunching at her waist until he pulled her into his lap. He couldn’t believe how incredible she felt. She twisted until she was straddling him, her breasts crushed against his chest, his erection nestled at the juncture of her thighs. He cursed the denim between them, especially when her hips rolled slowly, grinding against him.

He knew it was nuts. They had passengers coming in a few hours. He had a million details to think of, and so did Chloe. But in that moment the only thing that mattered was the fact that he’d been on fire for her for the better part of a month and a half. It was like trying to deny a starving man food. He wanted—no, he needed—Chloe, and now that the floodgates were open, there was no way he could stop it.

Her fingers twisted in his hair, and her tongue tangled with his as both their breathing sped up. He pulled away long enough to press hot kisses across her chest.

“Jack,” she breathed, her thighs clenching around his. “We shouldn’t….”

“I know,” he said, nipping at her neck. “But, Chloe, I’ve wanted to….”

“So have I…” she said, and he felt pleasure rip through him like a tornado. “But…but…”

He kissed away any further objections. She could be the most rational woman in the world right now. Hell, the ship could be sinking. He didn’t care. All that mattered was being with Chloe, now.

He was reaching for the hem of her T-shirt when the door swung open.

“Hey, Chloe, did you borrow my—” The words stopped abruptly.

Chloe twisted to see who was speaking, and Jack groaned as the motion brought even more friction against his hard-on. He glanced around her torso.

Inga stood in the doorway, looking shocked, her red mouth dropping open. “What the hell?” There was more surprise than anger in her voice.

“We’re a little busy right now,” Jack said, his voice sounding rough, but before he could stop her, Chloe clambered off of him, leaving him hard and wanting.

“I’m sorry, what did you need?” Chloe said quickly, her voice too breathy and high to be professional.

Inga dismissed Chloe’s inquiry with a look of scorn. She stalked back down the hallway, letting the door shut.

Chloe sighed, then looked at Jack. “See? These are the kind of problems that would come up.”

Jack sighed. She was right. He knew she was right.

He just didn’t care right now.

There has to be some way she can stay and we can get around that damned no-sex clause.

“Just think about it,” he said. “And maybe we can talk about it a little more tonight.”

“I don’t know….”

Ace knocked before opening the door. “The passengers have called,” he said. “They’re coming an hour early. Will we be okay?”

Jack could tell Chloe’s mind was back to business. “I’ve got to take care of these,” she said, swiping up the dishes and retreating to the galley.

Ace looked at Chloe’s retreating form, then looked at Jack. “Everything okay?”

“Not quite,” Jack said. “But it will be.”

Chloe wasn’t the only person who could plan things. And tonight he’d make her an offer she couldn’t say no to.

JUST THINK ABOUT IT.

Ha, Chloe thought. As if she’d done much of anything else since they’d cast off and headed for the ocean.

Well, she had thought about the charter passengers, the Newcombes. Unlike their last clients—the lovely Spencer couple—the Newcombes were slightly older and a lot less likable. For one thing, Mr. Newcombe was a flirt. Actually, more than a flirt—the man was a lech. He was very good-looking, and obviously that gave him the impression that he could do whatever he wanted with impunity. He’d winked at her and kept making comments when she’d served them lunch, and by dinner he’d already gone through a good chunk of their mini fridge, judging from the alcohol on his breath. She’d set up dinner on the front deck, to enjoy the sunset. But he didn’t seem to notice the sky at all, staring at her instead.

“So…you’re the cook, huh?”

She’d nodded pleasantly, trying her best to ignore him.

“Nothing hotter than a woman who cooks,” he said, leering at her, even though her crewneck T-shirt was nothing to leer at. Then he turned to his wife. “You should learn how to cook.”

The wife merely took a long sip of her iced tea, looking out on the waves. Chloe felt sorry for her, wondering how the woman could’ve hitched herself to this loser. “How is your seasickness doing?” Chloe commented, trying to be friendly and include her in the conversation.

“Much better,” Mrs. Newcombe replied in clipped tones. “I’ve got some pills later that really do the trick.”

Mr. Newcombe wasn’t pleased at that. “Isn’t that the stuff that knocks you out?” Chloe heard him say as she retreated toward the galley. “How the hell am I supposed to have a honeymoon with you passed out?”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you started hitting on the cook!” Mrs. Newcombe snapped back. “You’re lucky if you get any sex at all on this trip, you jerk! It wasn’t my idea to go on a cruise!”

Chloe fled. She didn’t know what they had, but whatever it was, it wasn’t love.

Chloe had been busy prepping for the week’s meals, and now it was ten o’clock at night. She was bone-tired. If Inga would assist with some of the cleaning, that would help enormously. Jose and Ace each gave a hand when they could, and so did Jack for that matter, but Inga seemed to be a walking cyclone, creating mess and clutter wherever she went. She also had made it quite clear that she wasn’t hired to be “menial labor.” She was going to mean problems, but Chloe hadn’t said anything to Jack because she didn’t want him thinking she was jealous of the girl. Although, after what Inga had witnessed between Chloe and Jack in the honeymoon cabin, Inga was furious and had done a million passive-aggressive things all day to show Chloe how ticked off she was. Chloe wasn’t going to be able to put up with that for another month, no way. Maybe tonight she’d talk to Jack about it.

The memory of her and Jack twined together on the honeymoon bed that morning seared through her. The taste of him, the feel of him hard beneath her.

She stopped herself. No, she wasn’t going to talk to him tonight.

She went back to her cabin, intent on getting a full night’s sleep before dealing with the evil Newcombes the next day—she felt sure after their dinner argument they would be grouchy and unpleasant tomorrow. To her surprise, the door was locked when she got there. “Inga,” she said in a low voice, trying not to disturb the honeymoon cabin, “open up.”

She wondered absently if Inga was trying to get back at her for stealing away Jack. She also wondered if Inga was going to pull any other tricks to prevent Chloe from getting any rest…like putting something nasty in her bed, or whatnot.

After a few minutes, Inga opened the door a crack. “Can’t you see the scarf on the door?” she said, her voice cross.

Chloe hadn’t noticed, but there was indeed a filmy scarf tied around the small doorknob. “So?”

“That means I’ve got company,” Inga snapped. “Get lost.”

“But I need to get sleep!” Chloe protested.

“So go sleep with Jack,” Inga replied. “You two being so close and all.”

With that, she shut the door with a click of the latch, leaving Chloe in the hallway, stunned and furious. She stood there for several minutes, as if expecting Inga to say the whole thing was a joke, so that she could get some rest. But after a few long moments, Chloe heard the distinct and telltale sounds of bed creaking and moaning, with Inga sounding a little more vocal than was probably necessary, saying things like “Come on, big boy” and “Ooh, yeah, right there.” Chloe felt quite sure it was for her benefit—just one more way to both get even and to get her to go away.

Chloe blushed. Then she stormed down to Jack’s cabin, knocking carefully.

“Come on in.”

She walked in, letting the door shut behind her. “She’s kicked me out of my…”

Before she continued her angry tirade, she glanced around. If she thought she’d been stunned before, it was nothing compared to now.

He’d cleaned his cabin, which normally looked like a disaster area. The bed had fresh sheets and was neatly made up. The desk was organized, the way Chloe liked it—she’d worked there enough recently to know it never stayed neat for more than an hour after she left it. There was the omnipresent scent of the ocean, but more than that, there was a scent of clean woods, cedar and pine. The final touch: there were little lights everywhere, small Lucite blocks that glowed in turquoise and midnight-blue and sea-foam-green, making the whole room seem soft and ethereal, like an aquatic paradise.

“I wanted to run these by you,” he said, his voice businesslike and completely at odds with the romantic tableau he’d obviously created. “So many couples ask about candles, and I just don’t want the fire risk, so I found these little guys. They’re battery-powered and they sort of add to the mood. What do you think?”

“They’re wonderful,” Chloe said. Then she shook her head. “Listen, Jack…”

“Shhh,” he said. He’d showered, she realized, his almost-black hair still damp and curling slightly against the collar of his shirt. “I thought we could talk tonight.”

The way he said it…she knew he didn’t mean talk. Her body started to respond automatically, and she closed her eyes.

“This isn’t a good idea, Jack,” she said, even as she felt his arms close around her.

“You’re the one that always tells me there’s a solution for everything,” he murmured against the skin below her right earlobe. “I’m sure if we think about it hard enough, we can come up with something.”

She forced herself to focus. “Inga kicked me out of our cabin,” she said, hoping that would jar him off course. “She’s having sex.”

To her surprise, he shrugged. “Probably with Ace. That guy has a penchant for high-drama blondes. I’ll talk to them both tomorrow.” He took her hands, gently tugging her toward the bed. “But let’s not waste time talking about them tonight.”

“I’ve got nowhere to sleep!”

He nudged her until she sat, his comforter plush beneath her. “Sure you do,” he said with a smile, sitting next to her.

She sighed, a mixture of irritation and—she hated to admit it—anticipation. “You know, sex doesn’t fix things.”

“’Course it doesn’t,” he admitted readily. “But it does make waiting for the solution a hell of a lot more fun.”

She giggled, knowing he was conning her. “Okay, let’s talk,” she said.

He sighed this time. “You’re right. I should’ve known you wouldn’t simply fall into bed, no matter how charming I tried to be.”

“I give you points for trying,” she said. “The whole thing’s really lovely. But it doesn’t really change our situation.”

“I know. I want you,” he said. “And I want you to work with me. With us.”

“And that, in a nutshell, is our problem,” she said, leaning back. The bed felt blessedly comfortable against her muscles. She propped herself up on one elbow, looking at him, her tone serious. “If we have sex, then we’re just having sex. If we have a relationship, I don’t think we should be involved with business. And if we’re in business…” She let the sentence trail off. “We’ve had that discussion. You seemed all in favor of keeping work and sex separate.”

“I’m not stupid,” he said, lying on his back, putting his hands behind his head. “I know this is all fast. And you’re coming off a serious relationship. I know the facts, Chloe.”

Traitorously, the sight of him stretched out made her body tingle. She inched ever so slightly closer, staring at the strong planes of his face as he stared at the ceiling.