Jewel Heist. JJ Keller

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      “I’m not.”

      “It’s because he’s short,” Jenn shouted.

      “No, if I wore flats he’d be taller than me.”

      “What are the problems then, bad DNA?” Kim asked.

      “Nooo. I guess I’m not attracted to him.” Mary sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the bedside clock. “Not to be rude, but I need to go. I promised John I’d buy him a drink.”

      “No alcohol, Mary,” Kim said.

      “Bye,” Mary disconnected and quickly hung up her limited wardrobe. The miniature dresser didn’t pose a problem, because when a girl anticipated a sudden exit, she packed light.

      The luggage wouldn’t fit in the bottom of the cabinet, and considering the cabin was the size of her closet at home, she didn’t want it to take up space. The bag wouldn’t wedge sideways, lengthwise or vertically into the cupboard. Nothing worked. By now her hair had fallen from the loose bun at the nape of her neck, irritating her. She tucked the strand behind her ear as a firm rap sounded on the entrance.

      Damn. She dragged the case to the connecting door and hung the strap over the handle, twisting the knob to make sure it was locked. Another rap, louder than the first, drew her attention. She ran and pulled the portal open. John stood outside.

      “Hi, sorry, trying to squeeze the luggage in the closet. Didn’t work.” She cocked her head toward the large red rectangle dangling from the door knob. His gaze moved across her forehead, along her neck and down to her heaving chest. She resisted the urge to pull the material of her vest closed, preventing his perusal. As his brown-eyed glance met hers, his gaze darted around her face. Maybe her makeup was running down her cheeks. She did feel sticky. Stomach fluttering, she tossed a long strand of hair over her shoulder.

      “I’ll get it to fit.” Instead of looking at the suitcase, his stare remained on her.

      Why did she get a strong idea he wasn’t referring to the baggage? At the titillating thought, a tingle started in her lower abdomen. Sexy verbal innuendo was her favorite type of sparring.

      “Okay, I need to freshen up a little.” Why the hell did her heart skip a beat? Watching him watch her, she missed the step up to the bathroom. Grabbing the handle, she awkwardly slipped inside. She’d tossed her cosmetic bag on the counter as she unpacked. If only she had music playing in the cabin to cover the noise. Instead, she flipped on the sink faucet, and then used the toilet. Upon flushing, the darn thing sounded like a noisy vacuum. She grimaced and dumped out the necessities to revive her face. No way would he not have heard that racket.

      Wash, tone, lotion were automatic, like setting an alarm for work. She shut off the water. A quick application of brown eyeshadow and black liner required precision to draw out the almond shape of her eyes. Blush was a random, slap-dash thing for her. The berry-blast lipstick, however, had to be perfect and applied with care because she had cupid lips. Little peaks, directly under the bridge of her nose, had to be outlined or she’d have big red clown lips instead of little rosebuds. In addition, her bottom lip was bruised, so her usual gnawing hurt. She bent in half and brushed her hair. Upright again, she added a cloth coated rubber band, loosely knotted the hair at her nape and added another fastener to keep the curls in place.

      Finished, she opened the door to find John sitting on the sofa, one leg braced on the other and an info flyer–apparently about the ship as Verbena Skylark was splashed across the first page–open on his lap.

      He lifted his head. His eyelids went half-mast.

      Her heart caught again. Maybe she was coming down with something. Lust came to mind. Could he be a potential donor after all?

      “I liked your hair down better.” His gaze was hot, heating her even more. With a single flip, the magazine closed and fell onto the tiny coffee table.

      She stepped off the platform and as graceful as a ballet dancer, swayed toward him. “Thanks.”

      She sat beside him on the tiny sofa, which put their thighs together. Hormones raged, jetting pulsations to her lower region. Her clit tingled. “My friends insisted I come on this cruise to get over a love affair gone wrong. They encouraged me to meet a load of hot, nice guys.”

      “I think that’s what single’s cruises are designed to do.” Poker face looked good on him.

      She couldn’t mention the donor project because a woman looking for a baby-daddy was a sensitive issue. Men got all quirky about legalities, financial responsibilities, and even if she had no interest in the man participating in the raising of the child, the guy, if he was high on the donor list of prospects, might feel a need to be involved. Which was why she’d jumped into treatment after Conrad said yes. He’d been okay with the prospect of being a detached father. Of course, she hadn’t known at the time he’d be buying a vacation home with stolen diamonds while she might be rotting in jail.

      “I thought maybe we could work together to filter out the people we don’t want to be with.”

      “Okay, I’m in research, so I understand your reason to sort information, evaluate your data, and select possible dating material.” He talked like a math person. Statistical analysis was her weak point for sure. “What do you have planned?”

      Hot cheeks, raging clit–she had to get cool. Pitch the idea and go get a drink. “Well, I thought we could help each other. More than likely there are twice as many females on this ship as males–”

      “Six thousand passengers and three thousand employees. Of the six K probably sixty-two point four percent are female.”

      She dropped her hands from pressing against her face. “Okay. So there are more women than men. What I propose is we cover for each other. If an undesirable approaches me, I’ll turn him away by claiming we’re together. You can do the same. At the end of the night, we’ll select our chosen guy or girl and be on our merry way.”

      His gaze roamed over her face and focused on her eyes. “What if you’re making a bad decision? Your data may be skewed by alcohol or slick magazine-cover good looks. Do I have the right to tell you?”

      “Ah.” She lifted an eyebrow. “How about we test the market and see what happens first?”

      His almond shaped eyes widened. “What about a safe word?”

      “Pardon?” She crossed her legs and flicked her fingernails.

      “Let’s say you’ve chosen your partner and later find out he’s not what you thought. You could give a shout-out…ah… ‘Bang Wang’ and I’ll come running.”

      “Bang Wang?” She held in the laughter and was very proud of herself for not even giving way to a smile.

      Red appeared on his neck and cheeks. She must not have hid her expression after all. “I’m sorry. I think it’s a perfect shout-out for help.” She nodded.

      “First thought that popped into my head,” he said and looked at his shoes.

      “We’ll see how tonight goes and then decide. Although, I think you’ll need one, if there is a significant difference in male and female guests. You’re going to be hit on more than me. Toss around a few suggestions for a good code word when the cougars СКАЧАТЬ