by Lori Sjoberg
“One of many.” He pinned her with a level glare. “Answer the question.”
“If you must know,” she said, the words coming out in an exaggerated drawl, “I was born in a single-wide about twenty miles north of Brunswick, Georgia. My daddy kept a moonshine still in the shed and two hound dogs chained up in the front yard.” Her posture went rigid, her chin jutting forward. “Congratulations, you just spent the evening with backwoods trailer trash. Happy?”
Jack smiled in spite of himself. It was a token victory, this trivial slice of information. But it was a start, an intriguing corner piece of a complicated puzzle he had every intention of solving.
“Ecstatic.” He reached out, taking her hand before she had the chance to pull away. “I wouldn’t want to share dinner with anyone else on board.”
He brushed his lips across the backs of her knuckles, and a fresh wave of desire heated his blood. Her skin was soft and tasted sweet, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the rest of her tasted as good.
All in good time.
“Why?” Her brows knitted in obvious confusion.
“Why not?” His lips glided over the back of her hand, then up to her wrist. Nothing from tonight’s dinner compared to the rich decadence of her skin. His gaze drifted up, locking with hers. For the first time that evening, he saw beyond the carefully constructed façade and caught a glimpse of the real Ruby. Passionate and intelligent, with a trace of vulnerability that took him by surprise. “I enjoy your company.”
Her pulse quickened beneath his fingers. A light blush darkened her cheeks, a subtle hint of color that betrayed her true emotions. Already, he could sense her arousal, warm and alluring, an open invitation ripe for the taking.
“Bet you say that to all the girls.” Her voice turned low, husky.
“Just the ones I find appealing.” He took a deep breath, and her soft, feminine scent invaded his senses. The need to take her flashed through his veins, hot and insistent. “Ones I want to get to know better.”
And just like that, her features hardened. She jerked her hand away, all sense of desire evaporating in a cloud of indignation. “So that’s what this is all about? Satisfying your curiosity?”
“Whoa, wait a minute. That’s not what I meant.”
“I beg to differ. You’ve been hammering away with the questions all night. I don’t know what your problem is, but I came here for a good time, not an interrogation.” The look she gave him would have turned lesser men to stone. “I’m not looking for a soul mate, and I don’t feel inclined to bare the dirty details of my life to some …” Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Stranger.”
She turned on her heel and stomped to the stairwell, leaving Jack to wonder what the hell had just happened.
The ship docked at Nassau a little after eight the next morning. Ruby was among the first group of passengers to disembark, eager to escape the ship’s confines for a few hours before setting sail for the Dominican Republic.
She also wanted to put a little space between herself and Jack. She was still mad at him for grilling her the night before. Even madder because he’d managed to wheedle information out of her. As much as she disliked thinking about her past, she hated discussing it with someone she’d just met.
Actually, she hated discussing her past with anyone. She wasn’t exactly proud of her heritage, of the things she’d done while she drew mortal breath, or the sequence of events that resulted in the damnation of her soul. She saw no point in crying over spilled milk, and she’d rather not dwell on things she lacked the ability to change.
By the time she made her way to the center of downtown Nassau, the Straw Market was already packed. It was little more than a gigantic tent, sectioned off into three long aisles jammed with tourists. Vendors sold straw hats and mats, the usual assortment of touristy T-shirts and trinkets, and the very latest in bootleg merchandise.
Ruby stepped inside, immediately swamped by the heat of so many bodies crammed into such a concentrated area. The pulse of mortal vitality flowed all around her, some weak, some strong, each throwing off a distinct vibe yet blending together to form an incoherent white noise. If she concentrated, she could pick out the individual notes from the symphony, but since she was off the clock she saw no purpose in the exercise.
She scanned each table as she made her way down the aisle, ignoring the calls from at least a half dozen vendors vying for her attention. Veering to the right, she approached a table piled high with bootleg designer handbags and sunglasses. She spotted a cute little Gucci knockoff, a pale blue hobo bag with brown leather trim. Only the trim wasn’t made of real leather, and the Gucci charm curled a little around the edges, but otherwise it looked like the real deal.
It didn’t take long for the vendor to notice her interest. “You like the purse, pretty lady?” the young man asked, his Bahamian accent smoother than butter. He flashed her a toothy smile. “For you, I give a special price.”
She glanced down at the bag. No price tag. Figures. “How special?”
“Thirty dollars.”
Ruby slapped on her best poker face. She could just as easily insert a mental suggestion into the man’s mind and get any price she wanted, but where was the fun in that? “For this? Have you lost your mind? I’ll give you …” She paused, trying to remember how much she’d paid for her last bag. When she drew a complete blank, she pulled a number out of thin air. “Fifteen.”
The vendor shook his head. “No, too cheap. That bag would cost five times as much if you bought it on Bay Street.” His eyes glinted with the thrill of the haggle. “The lowest I can possibly go is twenty-five.”
“The bag on Bay Street would be real Gucci. Twenty.”
“You drive a hard bargain.” She waited for him to toss out another price, but instead he put his hand out and said, “Deal.”
Dang, he jumped at twenty way too quickly. She should have gone for eighteen. Still, it wasn’t a bad price, so she dug a twenty from her pocket and handed it to the vendor.
“How about some sunglasses?” the man asked, angling for an additional sale. “I just got a new shipment of Armani.” He motioned toward the end of the table, to two trays loaded with bootleg eyewear.
Ruby shook her head as she slipped the Gucci knockoff over her shoulder. “Thanks, but no thanks.”
“Remind me to bring you along the next time I shop for a new car,” a deep, masculine voice said from behind, and she nearly jumped out of her skin.
She turned and found Jack staring at her, smiling. His brown eyes gleamed with humor as his gaze traveled up and down her body. At first instinct she smiled in return, but then she remembered she was still mad at him, and the smile downshifted to a scowl.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he said, looking rather pleased with himself. He was casually dressed in a pair of charcoal gray shorts and a navy blue tee. A pair of sunglasses hung from the collar, dragging the fabric down just enough for her to catch a glimpse of dark chest hair.
“You didn’t frighten me. I just didn’t expect to see you here.”
His smile widened, clearly not buying her answer but wise enough not to press the issue. “Funny, I hoped to see you.”
Ruby arched a brow, a little thrill fluttering in her belly despite her residual annoyance. “Oh? And why is that?”
“Well, for starters, I want to apologize for being so …” He paused, as if searching for the right word.
“Pushy?” she offered.
“Insistent,” he replied, the smile slipping a few notches. “But I guess pushy would suffice.”
“Apology accepted. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” When she started to walk away, he stepped to the right, blocking her escape.
“I’d also like to make it up to you.”
Ruby cocked a hand on her hip. Whatever he had in mind, it better be good. “And how do you propose doing that?”
“Well, for starters, I’d like to buy you lunch.”
The flutter disappeared, replaced
by a heavy dose of skepticism. “Why, so you can try to pump me for more information?” Emphasis on the word try.
“No. So I can enjoy the pleasure of your company. No pumping or prying, I promise. Scout’s honor.” He raised his right hand and gave the Boy Scouts’ three-finger salute. “My cabin steward told me about this little place that makes the best conch fritters on the island. They practically melt in your mouth.”
Tempting. She hadn’t eaten lunch yet, and her stomach was beginning to rumble. “Where?”
“Walk with me and I’ll show you.”
She shot him a dubious look.
“Oh, come on, don’t you trust me?”
“Why should I?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. She had every intention of going with him; she just wanted to make him put a little extra effort into the seduction. After all, she was worth it. “For all I know, you could be some deranged lunatic sizing up your next victim.”
“Now that hurts. Do I look like a lunatic to you?”
“No, but from what I heard, Ted Bundy possessed a lot of charm too.” She should know. She’d reaped his soul after the execution. The job gave her nightmares for a month.
“So you find me charming?” The smile returned, making him look so damn irresistible and, yes, charming that she wanted to thump him upside the head. “Come on, it’s not too far from here. My treat.”
“I’m impressed,” Ruby said a couple hours later as they stepped off the crowded jitney. Bay Street was still thick with tourists, but with the lunch rush over, the crowds were beginning to taper off. Another hour and their ship would be pulling out of port. “You made it through an entire meal without asking about my personal business.”
“I told you I knew how to behave myself.” He offered her a smile and then took a chance and reached for her hand. When she didn’t pull away he threaded his fingers with hers, relishing the press of skin against skin.
For lunch, he’d taken her to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant not too far from Arawak Cay. While the décor leaned toward the shabby side, the food had been delicious and the noise low enough for them to enjoy some casual conversation.
He’d learned his lesson and avoided any direct questions of an intimate nature. Instead, they’d talked about their dinner companions from the night before, current events, pop culture, and anything else that didn’t fit under the umbrella of personal privacy. After an appetizer and a cocktail, she’d relaxed, and every now and again she’d inadvertently divulged some tiny nuggets of personal trivia. A knowledge of firearms. An affinity for Dusty Springfield’s music. The fact that she never went anywhere without a choker around her neck. Nothing earth-shattering, but Jack noted every detail, more determined than ever to unlock the mystery.
All the while he studied her, taking in the sights, the sounds, the nuances that made up the essence of Ruby.
Indeed, she was a complicated woman, an intriguing patchwork of contradictions. Outwardly carefree, but with an underlying air of caution. Intelligence buried beneath layers of self-deprecation and Southern charm. And while she appeared to be in her early twenties, she had a small round smallpox vaccination scar near the top of her left arm.
“So what do you want to do now?” Ruby glanced down to check her watch. “We still have some time before we have to get back on board.” Her focus flickered toward the ship, and the confidence in her expression faltered.
Ah, yes. He’d almost forgotten about her distaste for boats. No wonder she wanted to delay the inevitable for as long as possible.
“Well, we could check out the shops along the pier,” Jack offered.
“Yeah, I hear there’s a great place for body shots.” She slanted a sideways glance in his direction as she hitched her purse on her shoulder. “Jessica’s going to be mighty disappointed if you don’t take her up on her offer.”
Jack shook his head. “No, thanks. Drunken sorority sisters aren’t quite my style. I prefer my women to have a little more substance.” He’d always had a soft spot for strong women, and Ruby certainly fit the bill. So what if she didn’t quite meet the standard definition of human? For the time being, he was willing to overlook that one minor detail.
She smiled at the compliment. “Why, Jack, if you keep this up you’re going to make me blush.”
“I seriously doubt anything could make you blush.” He turned to face her, saw the glint of humor in her expression. “Am I right?”
“You’re very intuitive, a rare quality to find in a man.” She let out a low chuckle as she peered up at him through lowered lashes. Her voice turned low, husky. “Are you intuitive enough to figure out what I want you to do now?”
Even if he hadn’t felt the hot blast of desire, it wouldn’t have taken a genius to figure out what she wanted. And he didn’t intend to disappoint. He moved closer, filling the gap between them.
“I’m going to kiss you,” he said, his fingers curling around the nape of her neck. His pulse quickened, anticipation firing his blood. “You got a problem with that?”
“Not at all.” She shook her head, a slice of wicked curving her mouth. “As long as you make it worth my while.”
And with that she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her mouth to his.
Jack’s mind fogged, swamped with the pleasures of taste and touch. Her kiss held the flavors of dark Caribbean rum, tangy pineapple, and something far more exotic and inherently Ruby. Those lush lips, sliding against his mouth with such heat and intensity he lost the ability to form coherent thought. He wrapped an arm around her waist, dragging her closer, savoring the warmth of her body leaning flush against his.
In an instant, the curse flared to life, soaking up Ruby’s sexual energy like a thirsty sponge. Jack ignored its demands for more, forcing it to settle for the token offering.
Not now. Later.
Ruby pulled back on a contented sigh. Eyes heavy-lidded, she tilted her head a little to the left and dove right back in for round two, giving his bottom lip a gentle nip that sent all of the blood in his brain south.
He groaned, his body flooded with arousal. It had been a while since he’d been so turned on by a woman, so desperate for the exquisite pleasures of flesh against flesh. He wanted to taste every inch of her body, to discover all the spots that made her whimper and moan, to watch her eyes glaze over when she climaxed beneath him.
Too bad they were standing on a dock full of people.
“Hey!” Ruby jerked back, her eyes fixed on the guy running down the pier toward Bay Street, a pale blue bundle tucked under his arm.
And too bad someone had just snatched Ruby’s purse.
“Jack, wait!”
Too late. He was already gone, tearing down the pier in hot pursuit of the punk who’d stolen her fake Gucci handbag.
If he’d waited, she could have told him not to bother. She kept everything of value stashed in the side pockets of her Capri pants. Cash, passport, room key, cell phone, lip balm—with her job, she made a habit of traveling light. The only time she actually carried a purse was when she wore clothing that lacked adequate pockets to store the necessities. And while losing the handbag ticked her off, she found satisfaction in knowing the thief would be twice as mad once he realized he’d pinched an empty purse.
She took off after Jack and the thief, but by the time she turned the corner she saw no trace of either one.
“Crap.”
Ruby huffed out a breath as she debated what to do next. No sense chasing after Jack and the thief when she had no clue which direction they went. She considered buying another purse—if she hurried, she’d have enough time for a return trip to the Straw Market—but quickly abandoned the idea. For all she knew, Jack might be successful in his efforts to retrieve her handbag, and then she’d be stuck with two.
In the end, she settled on a cool Bahama Mama at the nearby bar. From her vantage point on the outside patio, she had a clear view of the pier so she could enjoy the ocean breeze while she watched for Jack. About twenty minutes later he
finally reappeared, shirt scuffed, dark hair mussed, and an angry red mark along the left side of his jaw.
Purse in hand.
“Jack!” Ruby popped up from her chair, waving her arms until Jack turned his head in her direction.
The scowl on his face vanished, his full lips curving into the smuggest of smiles. Eyes never leaving hers, he cut a path across the crowded pier.
“That guy could’ve won gold as an Olympic sprinter,” he said as he handed over the pale blue Gucci knockoff. There was a small tear on one side near the strap, but otherwise it looked okay. “He would have gotten away if he hadn’t made a wrong turn into a dead-end alley.”
“Looks like he could also take bronze as a boxer. He did this to you?” She touched two fingers to the welt on his jaw and he sucked the air through his teeth.
“Ouch! Don’t do that.” He wrapped his hand around her fingers, pulling them away from his face. His brow creased when he frowned. “The guy got in a lucky shot.”
She immediately recognized the early stages of bruised male ego, a debilitating condition marked by intermittent sulking and the need to reaffirm masculinity. God knows she’d seen it enough times and knew exactly how to treat the ailment.
“Aw, you poor baby.” She brushed her lips against the side of his jaw. No hiss or flinch this time. “So brave of you, chasing down a thief like that. What if he’d had a knife? Or a gun? You could have gotten yourself killed!”
“It really wasn’t that big a deal,” Jack said with a shrug, the frown softening a couple degrees. “I was just doing what any other guy would’ve done in the same situation.”
“That’s not true and you know it.” The ship’s horn bellowed, and when Jack turned his head toward the sound she slipped her passport and room key into the bag. She pressed a kiss against his cheek, her lips lingering a little longer than before. “Thank you for getting my bag back. I don’t know how I could have gotten on board without my room key.”
His gaze slanted down, and she knew what was coming next.
“So, do I get a reward?” His voice rumbled deep and rough. Eyes darkened, he reached up, trailed the backs of his fingers down her neck and over her collarbone, stopping a few inches from the beginning swell of her breasts.
