Jinxed!

by Jacquie D’Alessandro

  Accountant, accountant…

  “Oh,” Erin said, gesturing toward the fourth floor. “You must mean Chloe Cooper-”

  Madame Karma was on a roll. “Let me tell you something, just so you can avoid the trouble they’ll be having…” Here, the fortune-teller leaned forward. “If you don’t go with what’s supposed to be, each and every one of you will jinx your own fate. You reject what love has in store for you, and you twist karma around until it comes right back at you with negative energy.”

  Cheryl, always up for a lively discussion, had raised a finger to offer her own point of view on the matter, but Madame Karma left in a rush of patchouli before Miss Debate Team could say anything.

  That hadn’t stopped Erin, though. “But Wes is just a transition man,” she’d repeated to no one in particular, staring at the fountain burbling in the courtyard, yet not really seeing it.

  Now, as Erin watched the harbor come into focus outside the car’s window, she knew she really shouldn’t tell Wes any of this. Truthfully, there was no reason to bring it up since their future was limited anyway. Those were the established parameters of this fling; she’d been absolutely honest about it with him. Sure, they laughed a lot and even enjoyed a few heated makeout sessions in which she’d always needed to put on the brakes. Yet it was all good: he was giving her the confidence to build up to a relationship again someday and, in return, she provided him with…well, she guessed companionship. She didn’t think he minded though, because he wasn’t built for the long-term.

  As he guided the car into a parking structure, easing it along the curb where porters waited to collect luggage, Erin told herself that all she knew about him were superficial details anyway: at thirty, he was a successful day trader who’d branched out into real estate these past few years. That made him a slightly older man with the kind of experienced joie de vivre she craved. And he’d proven it with surprises like a picnic at the Hollywood Bowl one night-not your average date. He lived well and played hard, and she lapped that up, enthralled by this new way of experiencing life. This wonderfully carefree way.

  After Wes cut the engine, they got out of the car and unloaded. He handed their baggage over to a porter. As Erin watched him move-boy, she really liked to do that-she shivered, and it wasn’t just because the weather was sullen.

  No, not at all. It was because the porter had piled their bags on top of each other, just as if they belonged together. That luggage would be going to the same room, where Erin and Wes would finally be sleeping in the same bed.

  She closed her cashmere sweater around her. What was she doing here again? To her, sex had always been entwined with what she thought was love. Sex was revealing yourself to someone else, lying next to them with your skin bare. Vulnerable. Open and offered to them. But she was working on changing that, too-serious philosophy. It only led to heartbreak, and she didn’t need any more of that.

  As Wes parked the car nearby, Erin waited, the wind chuffing at her.

  But, minutes later, when she saw him sauntering toward her-all tall, muscled, athletic grace-that ache between her legs swelled, twisted, throbbed.

  She wanted him, period. And, really, there was nothing wrong with giving in to what her body needed, just as long as it didn’t include anything like a commitment. She’d save all that serious stuff for “the one” when he actually came along.

  Wes grinned, and she held out her hand to take his.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  No.

  Erin wanted to smack herself. Fun. Enjoy. Come on.

  “Yup, let’s get on board,” she said instead, brushing against his leather jacket and taking in the musky, rugged scent.

  As they left to embark, the wind seemed to carry the fortune-teller’s words of warning: You reject what love has in store for you, and you twist karma around until it comes right back at you with negative energy…

  2

  DURING WHAT SEEMED LIKE AN endless check-in process, Wes had tried to think of everything but what would happen once they finally did get to their cabin.

  First case in point: as his and Erin’s ID cards were issued, he wondered where he’d be able to access the Internet just as soon as they disembarked back in Long Beach Monday morning. There was a certain blue-chip stock he wanted to jump on, and business waited for no man-not even on the tail of a pleasure cruise.

  That got his attention off of Erin for about, oh, fifteen seconds.

  Try again.

  As they waited to board, organized into schoolyard lines under the huge terminal dome, he decided to focus on the frat boys in their see-how-wacky-I-am hats and Hawaiian shirts, ready for a booze cruise.

  And that ate up about ten seconds.

  The rest of the time, his mind and body were all Erin’s.

  Hell, he’d been a goner ever since laying eyes on her at Caleb’s party. Caleb Dougherty, Esq. was Wes’s lawyer and friend, and the party had been the first time the Esquire and his new girlfriend had gotten all their pals together in one place.

  Erin had been talking near the food table with a couple of other women, and the minute she’d thrown back her head to laugh at a joke, Wes’s gut had clutched into itself, his veins fizzing from a blast of lust and energy. There was something about the way she smiled, something he couldn’t get a grip on, something that urged him to look away before it was too late. But he couldn’t look away-not for the life of him.

  From that point on, he knew he wasn’t ever going to take no as an answer from her. So, as usual, he’d set his sights on what he wanted, then had charmed her-because that’s what guys like him did best-and had made her laugh and glow the rest of the night. Afterward, no other woman had existed for him, because he’d become just short of obsessed with having her.

  When she’d finally said yes to a date, she’d made it clear that he’d be just some sort of rebound fling, and he’d accepted that. Yet, afterward, her casual definition of what they were to each other started to eat away at him. But why did it bother him? Hadn’t he earned his reputation? Hadn’t he even reveled in it for years?

  Gradually, he realized that, this time, it wasn’t just about sex. There was…What? He didn’t know. Hell, maybe he did, but he wasn’t ready to face the niggling “something” that’d been hovering at the edges of his conscience for a while now. “Something” about the way he’d been wasting his life away night after night, never moving ahead while the world evolved around him.

  “Something” that made Wes want to convince Erin that everyone was wrong about him.

  After Erin ran up to the spa to make a massage appointment for later that day, they arrived at their stateroom. He used his ID card to unlock it, opening the door for her and closing his eyes as he caught a whiff of her scent.

  Sweet, he thought. Like raspberries, but with a little bit of something kicky, like lime. She smelled like a sorbet of mixed flavors.

  “Wow,” she said, moving around the bed to peek out the long porthole window. It offered a view of the dock, the gray of the afternoon. “This room’s bigger than I thought it would be.”

  “You expected a cell?”

  “Sort of. I had these visions of bunkbeds chained to the walls and a blue Porta Potti.”

  “That shows zero trust in my taste.”

  “And I should definitely know better.”

  There it was-that glowing smile. It lit up her skin with a blush, gave her gray eyes sparkle. But that was just the beginning of her appeal, really. She had blond hair chopped into layers that came to just below her chin; brown streaks made the style hip and sultry. Then came the cuteness: a button nose and a heart-shaped face that reminded him she wasn’t like a lot of the women he usually dated. His type was supposed to be sleeker, like a sports car that took curves instead of created them. But maybe that was part of Erin’s draw: her insistence on taking things slowly made him want her that much more with every ticking, shuddering second.

  Unable to help himself, Wes allowed his gaze to travel down her p
etite body-breasts that were a little too large for her stature, a tiny waist, slim hips. Even dressed in jeans and a T-shirt with a fifties-style sweater, she brought out every carnal instinct.

  But wasn’t he supposed to be showing her that he was above this? That he could be more than just the go-to guy for amusement?

  Damn, it was hard to be a gentleman sometimes, especially now, with her standing next to a bed that dominated the room.

  She seemed to realize it, too, her gaze falling to the mattress, then lifting to him. She really blushed this time, and his groin tightened.

  He needed her. In so many ways.

  Their luggage had already been dropped off by the porter, and it was waiting on the bed for them to unpack. Hesitating, Erin’s hands hovered over her red faux alligator bag, as if she hadn’t fully committed to being here with him yet. But hadn’t he sensed this a few times before? Reluctance?

  His heart sank. Was she hesitant about jumping into bed with a man she’d only known two weeks-or jumping into bed with him?

  She stared at her luggage, took a breath, then unzipped her bag with a verve that seemed a little too emphatic. Her smile seemed determined, and it threw him off balance.

  Not knowing what to think, Wes closed the door. “You pack pretty light. For a girl, I mean.”

  “How would you know?” She playfully narrowed her eyes. “Just how many women have you traveled with?”

  Enough. And they’d always gone with him on short trips that he was now regretting weren’t longer. Somehow, Wes thought that Erin had guessed this already. She had a way of seeing right into him that was uncanny. In fact, he’d never met a woman who made him feel like maybe he didn’t have to put on an act because it wouldn’t work anyway. And the thing of it was, she still wanted to be around him.

  He didn’t understand any of it.

  “How about we don’t talk about other women right now?” Wes said, coming closer to the bed.

  She caught her breath. Knowing he had that kind of effect on her turned him on.

  “How’d you fit your formal wear into one bag?” he asked.

  In answer, she casually pulled out a teeny-tiny baby doll piece of fluff. Lingerie, sheer and seductive.

  Imagination kicking into overdrive, Wes’s cock nudged against his fly. His throat closed up.

  “Formal wear,” she said, as if musing over the very idea. “Where is my formal wear…?”

  Then, she tugged a long wispy dress out of her bag-a bohemian print that was meant to retain a few wrinkles. He could tell that she’d chosen to pull out the more demure evening garb to taunt him.

  Then, slowly, devilishly, she slid out another length of sinuous material.

  Back to the lingerie.

  Wes blew out some oxygen. It was almost like she was performing a striptease, but she was taking things out instead of off. In essence, every movement whispered, “This is what I brought for you. Are you ready for some of it?”

  When she pulled out a heart-shaped red lollipop-a treat from her shop, no doubt-she gave him a wicked smile and rested the candy against her lips.

  He didn’t dare ask what she had in mind. In spite of all his best intentions, he got closer, reaching for the sucker.

  “Hey,” she teased, raising the candy over her head. “Not so fast.”

  When he didn’t say anything-couldn’t say anything-she cocked an eyebrow.

  “And if you don’t like lollipops, I’ve got more for you. What do you want? Taffy, chocolate…? I have it all.”

  Yeah, she did. By now, his penis was pounding with the blood rushing to it. He wanted to feel himself inside her, surrounded by her slick heat. He didn’t want to taste sugar as much as her skin, her breasts, her sex.

  Uninhibited, he reached out to run a thumb over her lower lip. Soft, warm. She closed her eyes, taking him into her mouth as she dropped her sucker-clasping hand to her side.

  “Erin,” he whispered, weaving the fingers of his other hand into her hair.

  She took his thumb further inside, sucking, biting. He moved his finger with her motions, entranced. His veins enlarged to accommodate the blood pumping through them, until it felt like he’d explode from the pressure.

  Unable to stand it, he bent to her, removing his thumb and taking its place with his tongue, sliding her a long kiss that stretched time into slow, erotic pulses. He explored her heat, pressing her body against his so she could feel his erection, feel what she did to him.

  She responded with a vicious eagerness, engaging his tongue with hers, rubbing her hips against his groin until he moaned with pleasured pain. When she slid her hand between them, testing his hard-on, he clutched at her.

  It seemed like he’d been waiting months for this, not weeks. He was ready to rip off their clothes and enter her, but he didn’t want that. It couldn’t be that fast and anonymous, not this time.

  “Hey,” he said against her mouth, thinking that she was different now that they were on this trip alone. Less inhibited?

  She drew away, laughed, her breath warming his lips. “I’m trying to beat a curse here, ’kay? Play along, please.”

  A curse. Again, he wondered exactly what that old fortune-teller had told her-what Erin had left out earlier when she’d related her story. What did a curse have to do with what was happening right now?

  “You’re not cursed with me,” he said, smoothing his hands below her jaw to frame her face. Such a beautiful face.

  Something within her eyes shifted, white flecks among the gray clicking into a different position, like lenses changing focus.

  Then, with even more determination, she undid the top button of his fly.

  He stopped her, confused not only by her, but by his own refusal to accept the sex and move on.

  “You don’t want this?” she asked.

  “Hell, yeah, but…” He sucked in a breath.

  She’d cupped him in her hand again, her fingers brushing over his balls. His cock strained to burst out of the denims.

  “I’ve wanted this, too, Wes. And now’s finally the time for it.”

  He couldn’t get any air into his lungs, yet he tried to talk, anyway. Why was she acting like this was some sort of mission? This wasn’t like the Erin he knew-not that he was complaining. He just hadn’t expected this strong of a come-on.

  But it was working all the same. Was it ever.

  She was moving one finger back and forth, as if experimenting with how much he could take. On the fringe of losing it, he pulled her back against him, kissing her roughly.

  Then, outside of his kidnapped brain, he heard something like a voice amplifying around him, a physical thing pressing in and trying to force him apart from Erin. Something on the loudspeaker? Hell, it wasn’t registering…

  Abruptly, Erin pulled away. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  Dizzy, he tried to haul her back against him, but she shook her head, pointing to the ceiling. Eventually, the loudspeaker voice filtered through the haze of his animal need.

  “…mandatory emergency drill. Please secure your life jackets-”

  “Shit,” Wes said, his erection at full rev now. “I don’t suppose we can ignore that.”

  “Mandatory.”

  Flushed, Erin laughed in frustration, but he sensed something else in the gesture. Relief?

  What the hell?

  Backing away from him, she straightened her sweater, her smile shaky. “Cursed. Didn’t I tell you the negative stuff was on its way? You’re onboard with a cursed being, Wes. You’d better bail now.”

  His nethers were killing him, but cool as rain, Erin went to a corner table and lifted off the top to find the life jackets.

  Using a wall for balance, one hand holding himself up while the other pressed against his crotch, he attempted to contain the ache.

  And she thought she was cursed?

  3

  AFTER THE DRILL, THEY decided to grab something to eat since Erin’s massage appointment was in only a half hour. Fortifying thems
elves had been her suggestion because, based on what’d happened before their playus interuptus, she had the sneaking suspicion they would need to store up on energy for when she returned to the cabin.

  She’d surprised herself with her attempt at seducing Wes. Heh, yeah, attempt. That was an understatement. She’d gone at him with all guns blazing, and he’d been just as open to the attack as she’d hoped. But then they’d been forced to do that drill and…bye-bye bedroom Babylon. Hello, fortune-teller curse.

  Of course, it could’ve just been a coincidence that their intimate activities had been thwarted at a most awkward time. In the heat of the moment, after she’d disengaged from Wes, she’d forgotten herself and actually joked about a damned jinx being the reason for the interruption. She’d only been letting off steam, but she couldn’t help wondering if Madame Karma was on to something…

  Nah. She and Wes had the whole cruise to get it on and, in effect, allow her to get on with life as she wanted it. The farther she inched away from the disappointment of William, the better. One setback was no biggie. Sure, Wes had been forced to carry his life jacket in front of his jeans en route to their drill-meeting station on the ninth deck, and Erin herself had been flushed with such lingering desire that the color was like a scarlet letter on her skin, but they had hours, days to make up for the temporary inconvenience.

  They walked to the Lido restaurant after having dropped off their jackets in the cabin, Erin linking onto Wes’s muscle-corded arm.

  A curse. Ri-ight. Nothing to fret about.

  It was just the sense of supreme relief she’d felt when the purser had called them for the drill that was worrying her more…

  Dismissing the thought, she climbed the stairs with her date, mahogany wood surrounding them. The ship, Lady Oriana, which would sail from Long Beach to Ensenada then back before Monday morning, was a study in Victorian romanticism. With its stained glass, brass railings and an atrium in the entry parlor, the vessel offered many amusements: the spa, a disco, a coffee nook, upscale shops, a casino and even a library. Of course, the upper deck had the requisite pool with water slides and a hot tub.