Jack & Jilted (14 page)

“So…” He turned to her, his green eyes more intense in the low light. “How do we fix this?”

Her mouth went dry. “I don’t know.”

“But…would you want to fix it?”

She closed her eyes. The thought of working on the Rascal, the thought of being out on the ocean, of having a part of her own business…

The thought of having Jack in her bed, making mind-blowing love to her every night.

“Yes,” she heard herself whisper. “I want to fix it.”

“Then that’s a start,” he said and he rolled toward her, his hand reaching out and stroking a lock of hair from her face. “Why don’t we take it slow and see how it goes? We don’t have to sleep together,” he said softly. “Not right away. We can see if the business side would actually work out. We already know how hot we are together,” he said, and she felt a shiver rock through her. “We can see if it lasts when we add business stuff to it.”

“What if it doesn’t?” she said, as his fingers threaded into her hair, stroking her scalp. It felt right.

“Everything’s a risk, Chloe,” he murmured. “I think we’re worth it, don’t you?”

How could she say no to that?

He leaned toward her for a kiss, and she was just about to when they heard a screech in the hallway.

“What was that?” Chloe said, sitting up immediately, her heart racing with fear. More yelling. Jack was out in the hallway in a flash, Chloe right behind him.

Mrs. Newcombe was standing in the hallway in a robe and a nightgown, screaming at her husband, who was standing, naked except for boxers, looking sweaty. And, to Chloe’s surprise, there was one more participant in the fracas.

Inga, naked except for the sheet wrapped around her.

“Slut!” Mrs. Newcombe shrieked, flying at Inga, slapping at her.

Jack dived in, separating the women. Jose and Ace quickly arrived, drawn by the noise. “What the hell is going on here?” Jack demanded, holding Mrs. Newcombe.

“That bitch,” Mrs. Newcombe said, obviously meaning Inga, “was screwing my husband!”

Chloe looked at Inga, who barely even blushed. Chloe rolled her eyes. Oh, for Pete’s sake…

“You were passed out!” Mr. Newcombe retorted. “On my damned honeymoon! What did you expect?”

Now Chloe was truly shocked. Was this guy for real?

“We’re married,” Mrs. Newcombe shouted back. “You’re my husband!”

“You knew what this was!” Mr. Newcombe’s eyes bulged unattractively, and Chloe could smell the gin on his breath. “It’s a goddamned business arrangement, Felicia, and you knew that when you made me sign the prenup! Let’s not pretend this is something other than what it is! You wanted a business partner and a good time, arm candy that you could show off to your rich friends. And I wanted money. So what the hell are you complaining about?”

Mrs. Newcombe went ghost-pale. “You’re going to be sorry for this,” she promised, the venom in her voice tangible.

“I’m already sorry,” he slurred.

Mrs. Newcombe turned her attention to Jack. “Let go of me,” she ordered. He did. “And I want you to turn this boat around. We’re leaving.”

“All right,” Jack said, obviously relieved.

She went back to the honeymoon cabin, slamming it shut. Mr. Newcombe looked as though he was going to pursue the argument, banging on the door. “You can’t lock me out!”

Jack grabbed his fist before he could pound again. “Take it easy tonight,” he said. “Sleep it off.”

Mr. Newcombe lifted his chin pugnaciously. “Why don’t you mind your own damned business?”

“While you’re on my boat,” Jack said, his voice lowering dangerously, “you are my damned business. And before you think about taking me on, I’ve got two crew members. You’ll want to think again.”

Mr. Newcombe glanced at Ace and Jose, who both looked grim…and ready for action.

“Fine,” he said. “But where the hell am I going to sleep tonight?”

Inga made a little snort. “Well, it’s not going to be with me,” she said. “These cots are way too tiny.”

“Should’ve thought of that before you screwed him,” Jack said, his voice cold as a glacier. She made a face, ready to protest, but he held up a hand. “I’m dealing with you tomorrow. Mr. Newcombe, you can stay in one of the cabins. Ace, if you could set him up on one of the spare cots…”

Ace nodded, leading Mr. Newcombe to the room he stayed in. “I’ll bunk in Jose’s room on his spare cot,” he said, obviously not wanting to spend much time with their troublesome charter.

“Fine. Jose, you’re on night shift—change course and bring us back to Coronado,” he said. “Everybody else, get some rest. We’ll clear this up in the morning.”

He took Chloe’s hand and led her back to the cabin. Chloe’s stomach felt sick at what she’d just witnessed.

“Jesus. If it’s not one thing it’s another,” Jack said, closing the door behind them. “I’m firing Inga tomorrow, that’s for sure.”

“That was just ugly,” Chloe said. Understatement of the year.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “Ruined the mood, huh?”

“I just want to sleep,” she said, her muscles all of a sudden aching.

Jack sighed, then nodded. “Don’t worry, I won’t try anything.”

Still, he crawled into bed next to her after putting out all the lights, and she could just…feel him, his presence, his heat. She still wanted him. But after seeing what she’d seen…

You knew what this was…Just a business arrangement…

No, she thought. She’d have to think this through. No matter what good intentions she had, how logical she thought she could be about all this, it had disaster written all over it. As much as she wanted to find a solution, maybe there just wasn’t one.

THE NEXT MORNING, Jack felt exhausted. He hadn’t slept with Chloe, or anything—he’d be feeling a lot better if he had. He remembered that from their week together, that even when he’d only managed an hour of sleep he’d still wound up feeling unbelievably energized. Instead, last night he’d slept next to Chloe, and let’s face it, that wasn’t remotely close to the same thing. He’d breathed in the perfumed scent of her, felt every twitch and turn of her body. And he hadn’t touched her.

He had never met anyone who was able to tie him in knots quite the way Chloe could, that was for sure.

He sat in his now-empty cabin. Chloe was fixing breakfast for the feuding newlyweds—or at least trying, since Mrs. Newcombe still hadn’t emerged from the honeymoon cabin and Mr. Newcombe was still sleeping it off in Ace’s cabin. They were close to Coronado, and with the cruise cut short, they’d have the rest of the week off. He wondered if Chloe was going to go onshore or stay on the boat with him. He wondered if there was any way to convince her to stay so they could talk it out together. He got the feeling that she was more the type that needed to be alone to think. The only problem was, the more she was alone, the worse he felt his odds were.

If he was going to cobble any sort of future with this woman, business or personal, then he needed a fighting chance, and that meant face-to-face or nothing.

There was a small rap on his door. “Come in,” he said.

The door opened, and it was Mrs. Newcombe, fully dressed in a linen pantsuit and silk tank top, looking like an upper-crust socialite…except for the puffiness of her eyes, still red-rimmed from crying, that even the most expensive cosmetics couldn’t quite conceal. “Mr. McCullough, if I might have a word?”

“Of course,” he said, then realized he really needed to get another chair in here if people were going to keep discussing business. He gestured to the bed. “Sorry, it’s the only other seat in the house.”

She nodded and sat on the very edge, her hands clenched together. “I wanted to apologize for the scene last night,” she said, her words so sharp they could’ve cut glass.

“I’m just sorry the whole thing happened in the first place,” he said sincerely.

“That…woman…” She clenched her hands tighter together, if possible.

“Will no longer be in our crew,” Jack assured her. “She’s an independent contractor anyway, but she should have known better. Frankly, the whole thing was a mess.”

Mrs. Newcombe took that with a tight-lipped nod. “I just couldn’t believe he’d do something like that,” she said instead. “I mean…yes, I could believe it. But on our honeymoon cruise. It’s beyond me. Who could be so vicious? Who could just ignore how important a wedding is?”

Jack sighed. “I know. One of our earliest fares was a woman who got stood up at the altar by her groom. She just came by herself.”

“I wish I had done that,” Mrs. Newcombe said wistfully. “I should never have gotten married in the first place.”

This was getting into personal territory. “I’m so sorry,” Jack repeated.

She shrugged and dabbed at her eyes with her fingers, even though he couldn’t see any tears forming. Not quite yet, anyway. “It’s over and done with. However, there is the matter of the cruise being cut short.”

Jack sighed. Of course, money would come into play now. As if his morning didn’t suck enough. “Yes, but…well, it’s regrettable, but you’re canceling the cruise of your own accord. It’s not our fault.”

“Technically, it was your masseuse’s fault,” she said.

“Technically, she’s an independent contractor,” Jack replied. “You could always refuse to pay her for any, er, services rendered.” He winced. That had come out badly. “But we acted in good faith and we would’ve continued with the cruise. It’s not being cut short by bad weather or mechanical failure or anything in our control.”

“So you’re expecting me to pay for the whole thing?” Her voice cracked. “Just…just because my husband is a slime?”

Jack closed his eyes. God, he felt like a slime himself. “We ordered supplies—food, gas, stuff like that—in good faith, for a full cruise, Mrs. Newcombe.”

“I see.” She sighed.

He opened his eyes and looked at her. She looked…wilted, squashed, like a cabbage someone had sat down on.

“It’s just so damned unfair,” she said.

He blinked. He was trying to be reasonable.

“I didn’t even want to go on this cruise. He did. Said it’d be romantic. Said it’d be nice for us to get away.” Her tone was mocking, laced in acidic bitterness. “I don’t know what he was thinking, but I was used to doing things that, you know, made him happy. I thought we were both getting something out of the marriage.”

“Uh, Mrs. Newcombe…”

“But it was all what I could do for him,” she said fiercely. “Did he ever once think about how I might be feeling? How he could do something to help me, for a change? No! He didn’t! Not once!”

Uh-oh. She was mercurial, and man, did this lady have a temper. Jack stood up. “Okay, you’re getting all worked up again. We’ll be back onshore soon, and then you can divorce him or kick the crap out of him or both. But for right now, you’re still on my ship,” he said, making full use of his authoritative-captain voice. “And while I feel badly about your situation, I didn’t cause it. You did.”

Her eyes flared. “How dare you!”

“Nobody held a gun to your head to marry that yahoo,” he said. “And you ordered the cruise. So it turned out badly. It happens. Now you can make the best of it or not, but I’m not going to refuse to get paid just because you married a jerk-off.”

Her mouth opened and shut a couple of times in shock, making her look like a fish wriggling on deck. Jack suddenly felt like a complete and utter bastard.

“I am sorry….”

“No, no,” she said, standing up. “I should’ve known better. It’s just business to you men.” And with that, she left his cabin.

Jack sighed, rubbing his hands over his face. He was just stepping in it left and right these days.

He decided to go to the galley to get a cup of coffee. Ace was steering, and Jose was sitting there, talking to Chloe. Inga was still in her room, not surprisingly, and that was good—he wasn’t up for dealing with one more emotional basket case without caffeine.

“Morning,” he grunted, reaching for a mug and the coffeepot. “I’d say good morning, but it hasn’t been.”

“Already?” Jose said. Chloe, Jack noticed, was making scrambled eggs with ham and peppers and was assiduously avoiding looking at him. “What else happened? Did the lady and Inga get into a knife fight or something?”

“No, no,” Jack said, sitting down. “But Mrs. Newcombe doesn’t want to pay for the full cruise. I had to tell her it wasn’t our fault that…well, you know.”

Now Chloe did turn around. “So you’re going to charge her the full fare?”

He nodded, wary at her tone of voice. “It wasn’t our fault,” he repeated.

“Well, no,” she said. “But there were some contributing factors.”

“Don’t bring up Inga,” Jack groaned. “She’s out of here as soon as we dock, I swear to God. I think we’re going to take massages out of the package altogether, anyway. It’s not worth the aggravation.”

“Still, it’s not like they’re taking the full cruise.”

He watched as she filled three plates with the egg concoction, putting out some for Jose, him and then herself. She sat down next to the two of them, eating daintily. “I thought you were the one that didn’t want to get screwed over,” he pointed out. “She can afford it, and besides, she knew what she was getting into.”