Breathless. Sharron McClellan

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СКАЧАТЬ Successful men knew when to play. Knew when to work. And knew the line between good fun and excessive stupidity.

      It would serve her well to remember the steel beneath the surface, she realized as she caught herself smiling back, and once again, staring into his emerald-green eyes. She turned her attention to her drink.

      “They’re like emeralds,” Liz whispered in her ear.

      Jess found herself flushing. “What is?” she asked, playing dumb.

      “His eyes.” She giggled.

      Jess flushed deeper and was grateful for the dim lighting of the bar. She realized there was something else she could learn while she was here—how these people related on a more personal level. “Um, are you and Zach…”

      Liz’s nose wrinkled. “What?”

      “You know?” She nodded toward Zach and wiggled her eyebrows. “You? Him? Involved?”

      “Oh,” Liz said with a start, realizing what Jess was getting at. “Oh, God no. That’s just icky.”

      Icky wasn’t how Jess would describe sleeping with a man like Zach. Not at all. Sensuous. Fun. Erotic.

      But not icky.

      Liz nodded toward Nate. “I’m married.”

      “To Nate?” He was probably twenty years the girl’s senior. At least. She glanced at Liz’s bare left hand.

      “I kept losing it,” Liz said, following Jess’s line of sight. “It was simply getting too expensive.” She leaned in. “I know. He’s older. But he knows things, if you know what I mean.”

      “I get it,” Jess said with a knowing nod, praying the young woman didn’t elaborate.

      “Besides,” Liz said, “He’s as smart as Zach, and I love smart men, don’t you? You seem like you’d need a challenge. Like Zach.”

      “Um, yeah,” Jess replied, not sure she wanted to go where this conversation was heading.

      Nate’s muscled arm pulled Liz away, saving Jess. “No more girl talk. It’s time!”

      At the announcement, a cheer rumbled through the bar and the chant of, “Jess. Jess. Jess!”

      Heat flamed Jess’s cheeks as she realized that getting her drunk wasn’t the objective. There was more, much more, and it seemed to involve not just the crew but everyone.

      “Sorry!” Liz called out over the chanting. Reaching into her pocket, she pulled out a rolled-up piece of paper. “Here.” She handed it to Jess.

      “What’s this?” Jess asked, opening it. The original paper was stained but covered with something shiny and smooth. Jess ran her hand over it. Laminated.

      She brought it closer to the light. There was a poem printed on it. A badly written poem, both in content and penmanship. “What am I suppose to do with this?” Jess asked, waving the paper, fairly sure she was going to hate the answer.

      Zach leaned in so she could hear him. “It’s a song. We want you to sing it.”

      Jess’s smile faded. “Sing this?” She’d rather do rum shots.

      “Yes. It goes to the tune of ‘Row Row Row Your Boat.’”

      For a moment, Jess stared at the crowd, her mouth open. “Of course it does,” she finally managed to say.

      Zach grinned at her, daring her to back down.

      Oh, hell no. She was not going to give him the satisfaction. She gave a curt nod, and he motioned for the bar to be quiet. The chanting died back. She glared at him. He was a dead man. Later. Taking a deep breath, she sang, “Sail, sail—”

      “Wait,” Liz cut her off.

      Jess stopped. “What? Was it that bad? I never said I could sing.”

      “It’s not that,” Liz said, looking to Zach.

      Zach took Jess’s hand. “You have to stand up on the seat. The bar needs to hear it.”

      Horrified, Jess shook her head. “No. I draw the line at standing on chairs.”

      The bar started clapping and Zach shrugged. “Okay. It’s a bench. Not a chair. And you’ll disappoint everyone.”

      She shook her head. “I’m not doing it,” she said through clenched teeth.

      “It’s tradition,” Zach countered, his hand tightening around hers.

      Tradition. The one phrase he knew she’d give in to. She glared at him. He’d better have steel beneath all that charm, because after this, she was going to beat the hell out of him, given half a chance.

      “You’re a dead man, Holiday.”

      The threat only made him smile wider.

      She pulled her hand away. “I can get up by myself.”

      Liz shoved another shot in her hand. “This helps.”

      Jess downed it and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Wobbly with the second shot, she managed to stand on the rickety bench. She waved to the room, and they grew silent.

      “I’ll get food,” Liz said. “When you’re finished, we’ll eat.” She scooted out but not before kissing her husband.

      Nate held up a globe candle, spotlighting her. “So you can see,” he explained.

      “If that’s your story.” She turned her attention back to the sheet of laminated paper. There were six stanzas. It was signed Diego.

      She glanced down at him. The quiet ones. They were the worst.

      Diego grinned and gave her a thumbs-up.

      “Sing!” an unknown voice called out.

      God, she hated this. “Sail, Sail, Sail a boat, above the briny deep. Watch out for land, watch out for crabs, and never fall asleep.”

      She stopped. “Crabs? This is stupid. I mean, really, really, stupid.”

      “Louder!” someone shouted.

      “Fine.” She rolled her eyes. “Catch, catch, catch a fish from the ocean green. Make it fresh, make it large, with scales like aquamarine.”

      God help her, Diego couldn’t write to save his life.

      She began the next stanza, and the crowd joined in, their loud, enthusiastic voices overriding her. Despite the fact that her face still burned from embarrassment, Jess smiled.

      The room was hers, and she loved it. And apparently, they were pleased with her, as well.

      On the fifth stanza, with the crowd still drowning her out, a sudden movement at the bar caught Jess’s attention.

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