by Ally Blake
While her thoughts were vivid and sure and suddenly back in the familiar; push him away before he gets the chance to do the same.
Unfortunately for her plan, he lifted a hand to her cheek, held it a moment, then leaned in and kissed her. Barely a touch of his lips and yet the sweetness seeped into her very bones.
Wanting was hard for her, for the wanting was always so big, so unreachable. The carrot that kept her going. Getting a taste of what she wanted had often been enough. As close as she ever came to getting the prize.
Which was why, when he pulled away, while he looked tenser than she’d ever seen him, she grinned hazily up into his eyes, punch drunk on possibility. “Maybe you should leave first. I’ll follow in a minute. Wouldn’t want to get you into trouble.”
Muttering something along the lines of too late for that, Kane palmed the remains of what had been a mighty erection, then with a groan pushed away from the wall. Found his cap on the floor behind him. Ran two hands over his face. Gave her a hot glare.
Then whipped open the door, letting in a blast of sunshine.
But he wasn’t finished. In a second he was back. And therefore caught her leaning over, hands in her face, laughing herself silly.
“Juliana.”
She stood up so fast she got a head rush. “Yep.”
The flash of a smile and pure male understanding behind it made her blush all the more. “So you’re good for tomorrow night?” he asked.
“Hmm?”
“Bingo. The job. The favor.”
Nope, still not ringing any bells.
“You, Miss Jones, are hosting the bingo tournament tomorrow night in the main theatre. It’s one of the most anticipated and hotly contested events of the cruise with the grand prize being a free future cruise for two. The affair is ticketed. Only the first 200 guests to register got in. Tempers run high, accusations of cheating fly. I’ll be on security for the night. Putting out spot fires.”
Dammit. She’d been too busy mooning over Mr. Gorgeous to pay attention, too turned on to do anything but agree to whatever he’d asked. At least now she knew it had been worth it. Like the rush that came of jumping from a tire swing into an ice-cold waterhole . . . times a hundred. “Do I have to wear one of these god-awful polo shirts?”
“No.” Kane’s grin and the resulting tumbling in her belly made her afraid, very afraid.
“Something close? Something sparkly? Something bright enough I’d not get lost in a fog?”
“You, Miss Jones, can wear whatever the hell you like,” he said as his gaze trailed down one side and all the way up the other. “You in?”
Oh yeah. She was in.
Deep.
Chapter 14
After her morning run, JJ begged off the first island stopover of the cruise—which according to the brochures invited her to delight in the Franco-chic mecca of Noumea—so that she could spend the day cribbing the rules and lingo of bingo.
Stepping foot on some tropical island had been her idea of a perfect honeymoon all those years before, which made the decision not to go there real easy.
When her legs elevens and lucky sevens began to blur together, she stretched her limbs, slid her feet into a pair of ballet flats and went for a walk. Heading towards the Archipelago Theatre down on Deck 7, she half-hoped she might bang into Kane. And that he knew where all the storerooms on board were located.
Alas, most of the ship was quiet as the guests and a good portion of staff were off gallivanting around Noumea.
On the way she passed the casino, which for the middle of the morning seemed to be going great guns. She snuck through the smoky-glassed doors to find an elegant space with no windows to give any patrons a visual clue as to the time of day—or night. Lights slowly changed color across the ceiling, pokies pinged, and machines flashed the possibility of encouragingly big payouts.
But all the action was happening at the edge of the bar.
Hands in pockets JJ nudged through the rowdy crowd who were flapping cash and casino chips towards a head-high blackboard covered in smudged-chalk odds calculated against what looked like dates listed beside a whole range of acronyms. FK, FHH, CAB. The closest odds that day were FTCITBC.
At the center of it all was one of the staff, a young kid barely old enough to attempt to grow a moustache. And behind him . . . Samuel the quiet dinner companion. Though with a newsboy cap turned backward, sweat prickling his high forehead and a gleam in his eye, she wouldn’t have been sure if not for Carol jumping up and down beside him calling, “Go baby, go!”
Samuel’s eye caught hers and he silenced the crowd with a flourish of his hand.
“JJ,” he said, and to the soundtrack of a wave of crinkling parachute tracksuits rubbing against one another the entire crowd turned to face her.
“Hey Samuel,” said JJ carefully. “What going on?”
“Just keeping things interesting.”
JJ nodded, even while she had no clue what he was talking about. Though that didn’t stop the prickle of apprehension scampering down her spine. “So what does FTCITBC mean? And should I put a dollar on it?”
The staffer kid glanced at Samuel who gave him a short sharp nod.
Kid said, “It stands for first-time-caught-in-the-broom-closet.”
The people turned her way seemed to hold their collective breaths, as if she was some kind of divining rod as to the answer to—
Oh my heavenly dog.
“Me?” she asked, rocking side to side with a finger pressed hard into her sternum. “You’re taking bets on me getting caught in the—”
Oh. No, no, no. The whole ship was taking bets on her relationship with Kane.
“Still want to put a dollar on it?” a tiny woman in head-to-toe purple velour asked, thumb ready to swipe a note from the thick roll of fifty-dollar bills clutched in her hot little hand. Yowsa.
“No, I . . . Thanks, but no. I’m going to leave now and pretend that I never saw what was going on here. Which probably shouldn’t be going on here. Legally and all.” She waggled a stern finger as she backed away. “I suggest you all go do something else.”
JJ whirled on the spot. Only to find herself eye to eye with Carol.
“Sweet heavenly!” JJ cried, near leaping out of her skin.
Carol took her by the elbow and led her out to the hall. “You okay, dear?”
Carol’s lipstick was smudged, her hairpiece a little skewed, and JJ wondered if she was the one who ought to be asking.
“Is that what I think it was?” JJ asked.
“Possibly. If you think we’re taking bets on you and your young man, then yes. It might seem a tad . . . irregular, but it comes from a good place, truly. We met on a cruise, you know,” said Carol as she hustled JJ away. “I was with my family, Samuel with a few friends. We managed to sneak away and find one another. And fell madly in love.”
The idea of quiet Carol and somber Samuel doing anything madly seemed counterintuitive, until she remembered the glee on their faces as they hosted what was no doubt an illicit betting ring.
“Please don’t out a stop to it, dear,” said Carol. “It’s all just a little fun.”
“Is it legal?”
Carol fluffed a hand over her face. “International waters. Rules are smudgy. They turn a blind eye so long as there aren’t any fights, no property damage—”
“Carol—”
“My Samuel was a bookie,” Carol said, gripping JJ’s hands between hers. “A great one. Until I begged him to retire. He’s struggling with letting go. This is our first holiday since. Keeping his hand in has given him such a lift.”
Please don’t take it away from him, the older woman begged with nothing but the white of her knuckles as her hands gripped JJ’s ’til they began to numb.
“Fine,” JJ said on a sigh, as Samuel wasn’t the only one searching for the one thing that made him feel most alive. “But if you think I’m not all that keen on the idea, how do you think Kane’s going to take it? He’s staff, Carol. T
he conventions there might not be quite so smudgy. He’s also bigger than both of us put together and might not take kindly to being the subject of a betting ring. Convincing him to let it go? That’s on you.”
None of which had occurred to her as she’d held him tight in the storeroom the day before, she realized as on shaky legs she then hotfooted it back to her room. The fact that she was in danger of bruising her pride had pushed aside the fact that he was on the job. And she had no idea what the rules were there.
Then again, as she’d said to Carol, he was a big boy. Bigger than expected, if all the bits pressed up against her in that storeroom were anything go by. A man like that could surely take care of himself.
Chapter 15
JJ stood in the small AV room at the rear of the Archipelago Theatre, once again going over the notes Danny—the Gaming Director—had given her that afternoon as it was an inch thick with rules, nicknames, and shout outs to special guests.
Having three staff of his own down with seasickness, Danny said more than once that he could have kissed her for helping out, especially once he’d figured out that she was the solitary-single-girl the entire ship was talking about. He clearly didn’t know about the betting ring, or he’d have figured that kissing her would probably start a riot since those same guests would lose a boatload of money on it.
As the noise of the crowd gathering in the theater outside her open door increased, so did her adrenalin levels. Which was odd, because she’d had so many temp jobs and had been thrown into new situations at a moment’s notice—including manning the nibbles table at meat-packers’ union meetings, cold-calling for an ambulance chasing law firm, admin at a private high school—this kind of thing shouldn’t have bothered her at all.
It was only when she looked through the crack in the door and saw Kane standing outside, resplendent in a dark suit and white shirt—security uniform—chatting to a table of bingo contestants that the nerves made sense.
She hadn’t seen him all day. Not since the kiss. And it was clearly playing havoc with her nerves. That and the betting thing and the fact that he was staff . . .
When his eyes moved up and away, seeking her out, stopping when they found her watching him, her heart skipped several beats. Then made up for it by kicking into gear at double pace. He hadn’t moved, but everything about him seemed to contract as his cool eyes locked onto hers before sliding down, down, down . . .
She’d gone for chic in the end rather than purple polo or you-can-see-me-from-outer-space sparkles. A fitted black dress with a cinched waist and a hem that stopped just shy of her knees. It was simple, chic. Something she’d paired with jackets at her more secretarial type temp jobs. But paired with tousled waves, smoky eyes, and red high heels, she hoped she looked ready to play.
She held her arms out, took a twirl.
He shook his head, let out a long stream of air that might even have been a whistle. And as he said excuse me and headed her way, JJ wished she’d gone for a lower heel as her knees lost functionality for a beat or two.
“You look edible,” he murmured as he pushed through the door, nodding briefly at Danny who was in the corner talking to the sound tech.
“I wear this dress to work.”
“You should wear it to do everything. Half the people in that room out there have bad hearts; you’re putting the medical staff on notice.”
She slipped a finger into the neckline. “Should I . . . take it off?” A perfectly timed beat slunk by, then, “And find something more demure?”
The dimple made a quick appearance before he dragged his eyes from her neck to her mouth. “Trouble,” he rumbled, before cricking his neck and walking away.
“Wait,” she said, her heart jittering against her ribs as he turned back to her with a small smile. She crooked her finger until he came closer. And closer.
Close enough she could see flecks of silver in his eyes. He had his hands tucked casually in the pockets of his suit pants, but looked about as relaxed as a swarm of bees who’d lost their hive.
The urge to hook a finger through a shirt button and slide it open so she could lay a hand on the bare chest she’d only felt through the cotton of his uniform spiked and slammed into the adrenalin already soaking her through.
Instead she said, “Has Carol spoken to you?”
“About?”
“So that would be a no. Did you know the passengers are taking bets on us? There’s a rogue casino operating inside the real one. Big money flying about.”
“Yeah,” he said, a frown creasing his brow as he ran a hand up the back of his neck before it fell to his shirt and gave his chest a scratch. JJ had never been so jealous of a hand. “I’d heard something about it. It’s Carol?”
“And Samuel. He’s a retired bookie with an itch. Shouldn’t you shut it down?”
He breathed out hard and looked her in the eye. Breathless didn’t even begin to describe how it made her feel.
Then he said, “Now she decides she’s a good girl. Right when I have big money riding on today being the day for our FN.”
Coming over all swoony, JJ still had enough sense not to ask what the N stood for. First Night? First Nookie? Frickin’ Never-Had-Better?
“Do you want to be the one to tell that lot out there they can’t have fun their way?” Glancing around, he leaned in a fraction. “Besides, here’s our chance to make a packet. Weight the odds in our favor. What else did they have? First kiss. First handhold. First—”
“—time getting caught in a broom closet.”
“They missed the boat there.”
That they did. “They also have the gym. Cinema. And hot tub as options.”
“Do they now?” Kane’s gaze dropped back to her lips. His voice dropped to the bottom of the ocean.
And JJ’s blood pressure spiked so high her vision began to blur.
The house lights flashed, encouraging the players to take their seats. She needed to pull herself together, fast.
“I don’t care either way,” she lied. “I’m thinking of you. Would your bosses have something to say about—?” Nothing in the world would make her say us.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, easy as you please, easing away a good portion of the tension, making her realize how worried she’d been. For him. “Now chin up, wriggle your toes to keep the blood flowing. You’re about to enter the lion’s den; don’t let ’em see you sweat.”
A hand at her waist, he leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, and only the fact that it lingered a moment as he breathed her in would have made it appear a mite beyond friendly.
Yet it didn’t feel merely friendly.
It felt wonderful.
Chapter 16
Two and a half of the most exhausting, fabulous hours of JJ’s life later, the all-round bingo winner brought the house down. The grand prize—with her final number a tickety-boo (sixty-two)—went to one of the Merry Widows; a group of four women who’d lost their husband in the months between booking and the cruise, who’d all been given free holidays by the cruise line and introductions to one another.
They’d taken to the stage and nearly carried JJ off in their excitement. At the very least they’d made her an honorary member of their clan. Especially since—beyond an outwardly chaste cheek kiss in the AV room that had apparently not been missed by the betting pool—she’d made no further headway with their favorite hottie ex-athlete, who at that point was nowhere to be seen.
As such she had no choice but to accompany them to the Starry Night Ballroom, an open air space at the rear of the top deck where the party had just begun.
“Alone it’s hard,” said one, patting JJ on the hand with her paper-soft palm. “But together we are indestructible.”
“We’ll protect you from the ass-grabbers, too,” said another.
“Married or not they are out there,” warned a third.
Amen sisters.
A big band already played Burt Bacharach and Dean Martin for those who’d not enter
ed the tournament. The theme of the evening was Rat Pack so the men looked debonair, the ladies sparkled and the night reeked of Brylcreem. Martinis were the order of the evening and under the canopy of stars, a hundred happy couples danced and danced and danced.
JJ figured Kane was looking after the stragglers, helping those less-sportsmanlike souls back to their rooms. One guy had even been taken to the brig—the ship had a brig!—after taking a swing at a tablemate who’d accused him of cheating. Oddly sure he’d come find her when he could, she happily sat back and watched.
Which was fun for a while. But sitting on the sidelines nursing her dirty martini, she began to feel the return of her old companion, the clawing scrape of loneliness. Nice as these people were, once again she was an outsider looking in. She’d felt that way her entire childhood, itching to be somewhere more exciting, anywhere but where she was. Not fitting in, or at the very least not happy. Moving to Sydney hadn’t really changed that feeling at all—she was a small town girl on the wrong side of the window to where the real fun was. And in the late of the night, surrounded by the blur of white noise, she wondered if she was destined to feel that way the rest of her life.
“You look like you could do with a foxtrot,” a croaky voice said as a hand snuck in front of her face.
She looked up to see Samuel smiling down at her, looking like a new man.
“No, no, no. I’m literally the most ungraceful person on the planet.”
“Rubbish.”
“I’m all knees and elbows. More likely to stand on your foot than not.”
Samuel snapped his fingers and with a sigh she put down her drink and rose.
“So, get up to anything exciting today?” he asked as he swung her out onto the dance floor.
“Subtle, Samuel.”
He gave her a smile that would have made Mona Lisa proud. Then he kindly let her be and together they simply danced. She only stood on his toes twice.
The song ended, and Samuel received a tap on the shoulder.
