Jewel Hiest

by Keller, J. J.

  His lips parted, but he appeared to have lost his voice. He shook his head.

  Mary stood. The gentlemen at the table rose. She’d never been one to stand in the limelight and cursed her weak bladder for putting her there. Heat infiltrated her neck. She placed her napkin on the seat and grabbed her white glittery evening bag. A quick nod to Matthew and she hurried through the dining room, her cocktail dress swishing against her legs as she moved.

  Women waited outside the ladies room, indicating the few stalls were full. Mary took a right and headed port side. Earlier she’d noticed a small restroom near the library. She opened the door to find it vacant, quickly locked it and took care of business. Hands washed, she unclasped her bag. Though she’d sewn the jewels hastily by hand, the beading looked quite nice. Not one person had made a comment about her rock-encrusted purse.

  Reapplication of lipstick and a brush of mascara, and she was ready to finish dinner. Maybe Matthew would see her and John dancing and he’d interrupt. He’d take her into his arms and snuggle his tight body against hers. That sparkle in his eyes and bright smile got her heart to beat faster every time. Her nerve-endings would pulse and jump out of her skin if his cock pressed against her womanhood.

  John. She couldn’t ditch him. His touch created sparks. Maybe the electrical popping charged between them was a result of carpet static and not true emotion. Lust wasn’t a simple emotion, it had existed from the time they’d fallen onto the sofa and continued as they’d been together almost every minute so far on the cruise. The adorable man grew on her like a rash. Granted, a very pretty red rash instead of something ugly, but a rash none-the-less. Like all surface abrasions, given time and treatment it would slowly disappear.

  The corridor was quiet as she exited the restroom and trotted down the passage. She’d dance with John and then focus on Matthew. If he got called to work, she and John would hit the Tiki Station.

  “Mary?” a man said in a deep, growling voice from the shadows.

  Taken by surprise, she glanced down the passage. A dark figure moved closer to her, creeping like a ghoulish night animal. Long coiled hair sprung from under his knit hat. The safety lights mid-way down the hallway illuminated a glint of silver at the creature’s side.

  “Conrad,” she squeaked.

  Clutching her evening bag, Mary pivoted and ran. Heels clacking on the boardwalk, she rounded the edge. She grabbed hold of the wall to keep from sliding. In the next corridor, she could see a server carrying a large silver platter coming from an open door. Fortune prevailed, as she found the back entrance to the kitchen, behind the dining hall. A server had propped the portal ajar, while he took a smoking break. Yes, Lady Luck had smiled on her, and Mary took advantage, by slipping through the crack. As she followed a waiter carrying a laden tray of desserts, she regulated her breathing. The urge to glance around to see if Conrad remained on her heels was strong, but unadvisable. Her cover, a lost guest making her way to the dining room, wouldn’t be valid if she kept peeking over her shoulder.

  The double doors whooshed. At the sight of joyous partiers eating dessert, she’d made it to safety. Her tight neck muscles relaxed. She stuffed her purse under her arm and shook her fingers to bring life back into them as she wound her way to the Captain’s table. The gents stood. John gave her a strange look, a mix of curiosity and concern, as he removed her napkin and pulled out her seat. Her lips moved into a half-smile. Most of her dinner mates had eaten their dessert. PR guy talked to his captive audience, she hoped keeping attention away from her. She placed her purse and then the cloth on her lap. Grabbing the port, she lifted it in salute to John and ungraciously drank the contents.

  An alcohol rush zipped through her, making her slightly off-kilter. Throat burning, she sucked in air and placed the empty, small wine crystal on the table. She glanced at Matthew, who frowned and then directed his attention to ship-board Barbie.

  No doubt, if Conrad caught her she’d be going overboard in the dark of the night. Pain ripped through her. Tomorrow, she’d have to escape and there wouldn’t be a child for her. No one to have and to hold, to nurture, or provide a life filled with happiness. Childless, alone, and always running from the one who wanted to kill her had become her destiny. As she chased the wine with a deep drink of water, the Captain invited all of them to dance. The band strummed Somewhere in the Night.

  John draped an arm across the back of her chair, touching her shoulder. “Try the sweet. You’ll need the energy when I sweep you off your feet.”

  She snorted. Could she dance? Not having consumed alcohol for the past three months in preparation, the wine had gone straight to her head. The lights sparkled brighter and John looked dashing in his black suit and narrow necktie. The rust and cream swirls on the dark background came to vibrant life and drew attention to his strong, firm Matt Damon chin. Tie clutched in her hand, she dragged his handsome face close to hers. “I’ve lost my appetite for the concoction at the table.”

  His eyes widened, but that cute little grin appeared. He pried her fingers from his tie. “My place?”

  “Only if you promise to dance with me,” she whispered.

  “Music style?”

  “Current pop. Hard and fast and then slow, with a lot of rhythm.”

  He widened his grin, stood and held her chair. “Ladies first.”

  “That’s what I’m hoping for.”

  Chapter 7

  John held Mary tight to his side, and on occasion they swayed close to the railing. The slap-whoosh sound of the gentle waves hitting the side of the ship added a cadence during their walk. The ocean fragrance provided a romantic scent, while brown algae freed from the roots and clinging to driftwood, floated as ribbons on the calm surface. The pungent scent of sea spray as it sprinkled on their faces reminded him of how Mary had appeared cold and sweaty when she’d returned from the restroom. His heart jerked inside his chest at her suspicious behavior. Had she made contact with Peabody or Waterman, or a diamond buyer? She’d reentered the dining hall trailing a waiter, so her entrance had been through the kitchen. Why?

  The puzzle became more complicated when she’d intentionally drank the wine. She’d sipped the dinner wine before, keeping in etiquette, but the dessert drink, a more powerful alcohol, she downed as if it were life-saving water and she was a thirsty castaway. At the bar last night she’d pretended to drink rum, but the beverage was alcohol free. Obviously, the woman wanted to keep her senses about her, and not be influenced by the debilitating effects of alcohol. What had changed between the time she left for the ladies room and now?

  He’d had every intention of skipping out on dinner, but more than that he wanted to dance with her, to have an excuse to have their bodies aligned once again. His stomach tingled with need. Thankfully, she’d suggested leaving. He glanced at her, leaning her shoulder against the wall as he keyed the entrance to his room.

  Her dreamy gaze pierced him. “Want to go into Kingston tomorrow with me? I need to get souvenirs for my friends.”

  “Sure.” He rolled his fingers. “Come, my little pigeon.”

  “Sal Mineo or Charlie Chan?” She lifted an eyebrow.

  “Sal Mineo.”

  She slipped past him. “I’m not dancing to jukebox music from the sixties.”

  Laughing, he locked the door. “I’ll see what I can come up with.”

  Her purse clicked as it fell to the coffee table. She dropped her shoes where she stood.

  John clicked on the music folder on his laptop; uninterrupted music would flood the room for at least two hours. Screen saver in place, he wouldn’t worry about her discovering he’d bugged her room.

  The snap of a clasp shutting together brought him around. Her lips were kissable shiny.

  “Oh, I love this song, Tattoo by Jordan Sparks.” She placed her hands between his shirt and coat and whipped the jacket off. Holding it like a matador, she flung the material over her shoulder to land beside her sparkling bag.

  His hands automatically went to h
er waist, bringing her close. The hip to hip dance would begin. Her magic fingers undid the knot on his tie, and inch by inch she removed the silk from around his neck. It quickly followed the same path as the jacket. She’d flipped two buttons free from his shirt before he placed his palm on top of her hand.

  “What’s wrong?”

  She flattened her fingers on his chest and swayed in time with the music. “Just making you comfortable. Do you like to dance?”

  Stomach dropping, he inhaled, taking in her womanly scent which merged with the bouquet of her perfume. “Yes, my mother’s a professional.”

  “Where?” She played with the edge of his shorn hair.

  He turned her, so she wouldn’t bump into the edge of the bed. “Hawaii.”

  “Your heritage is?”

  “Fourth generation American.” He didn’t intend for the tone to be sharp, but sometimes discussing his heritage made him sensitive. Not that she’d shown any prejudices, but his name didn’t appear in her journal either.

  With a soft-callused finger, she stroked his right cheekbone. “Japanese?”

  “Yes.” They were in perfect sync. Her movement was sensuous, flowing with the rhythm of the song and igniting a fire inside him. Guilty of grand theft or not, he desired her and would have her.

  She kissed the side of his face. “Which is why you’re so beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” He caressed her cheek with his. “What’s wrong?”

  “Did you know Rihana’s song, Take a Bow,” she nodded to the laptop, “playing now. It’s about saying goodbye to a relationship? The couple gets along, but events go wrong and the romance doesn’t work out.”

  To shake her secret free might loosen the connection between them and that would have been physically impossible. “Mary, tell me what happened when you went to the restroom.”

  She exhaled and shifted so their mouths were mere inches apart. “Will you kiss me?”

  “Then will you answer my question?”

  She blinked and shrugged. That her crimson dress was precariously close to exhibiting the rosy area of her nipples made his heart race in time with the music’s beat.

  “I’ll take the chance.” Intending to give her a light kiss, he gripped her face. He needed to touch the heart-shaped upper lip he’d been fantasizing about for two days, without hurting the injured one.

  “I want one like you gave the cougar outside my room earlier today.” Her arm around his neck tugged.

  Mary was adorable–Debbie’s age equaled hers. “What happened when you went to the can?”

  “Saw a ghost.” She outlined the shape of his mouth with her tongue, moving him to act on his desires.

  He hesitated. What was her game? He took a step back.

  “If you’re not going to be serious.” Heart thumping, pounding on his ribcage, John knew what he had to do. He released her, picked up her purse and shoes. “Good night, Mary.”

  True fear tightened her face. Pain glazed her eyes. “No. Please, I don’t want to be alone tonight.”

  “Why?”

  Arms folded at her waist, chin lowered, she whispered, “I’m afraid.”

  He flung her items and tucked her close. She had every reason to be scared. Two men who’d robbed her jewelry store were still at large and at this time, she wasn’t clear from suspicion.

  Swaying in time to the music, he tried to relax her. “What about now?”

  Her cheek dropped against his shoulder. “I like Daughtry. He has a nice, raspy voice. We share the same taste in music.”

  “Do you believe in love? Quick, sharp, gut-wrenching love?” He kissed the soft skin of her shoulder.

  “I want to believe. Mostly I’ve been disappointed. I hope…”

  He lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders again, seeking that connection. “Yes, what do you hope?”

  “I hope to find love before it’s too late.” She shook her head. “Most of the guys I’ve been attracted to don’t stay. My last boyfriend was a scumbag.” Her breath caught in her throat, making it sound like a sob. “I thought I saw a guy who looked like him in the hallway. Terrified me.”

  Her words floated in the air with spurts and sputters. Fear, true fright came from each word.

  “If it was him, would he hurt you?” The slow removal of hairpins allowed the strands to flow down her back.

  “He stabbed me here.” Mary tapped John’s heart. “A little theatrical. Sorry. Physically? Yes, I can imagine him getting angry and assaulting me.” She shivered.

  Rubbing her arms, he put his cheek against hers. “I’ll protect you.”

  She kissed him, transforming that fear energy into passion. Her cupid lips hit the target, as if the love angel had shot his arrow. John Kajiyama confirmed he was in love with Mary Keefe.

  He held her face in his hands. “You don’t have to pretend an interest in me. I’ll protect you.” His words came out hard, but he didn’t move away. “Maybe I should go look for the guy now.”

  * * * *

  Mary whipped his hands away, but aligned her gaze with his. “No, I was wrong. That man couldn’t be my ex. He’s running from the law. I’m not faking romance with you in order to have safety. From the time I flattened you to the sofa, I’ve felt a spark. When you held me in the pool, embers flickered. I was hoping tonight I could see if a fire would ignite.”

  She was shocked the words had left her mouth. What had she been thinking, disclosing her past and then freely sharing her desire to be with him? She shouldn’t consider a relationship with him. Love wasn’t in the future for her. But a fling, one night to make the magic happen. Should she?

  One night to feel the joy of being with this stunning man who looked at her as if she were the only female on a ship which appeared to have two women for every man.

  One night to experience the enchantment of love.

  “Can’t Fight This Feeling,” she whispered.

  “Classic song for a classy woman,” he replied and shifted, moving them into a dance again.

  Face tucked near his neck, she breathed in his cinnamon spicy scent. He stroked her back, seeking and finding every crevice, exciting her and reigniting that spark.

  “John,” she drew his name out on a sigh.

  His grip tightened as he pulled her closer, letting her feel what the spark activated. “Yes.”

  Hands low on his shoulders, she gazed into his eyes. “Could you kiss me now?”

  His legs froze.

  Any guy could get a boner after a fine meal, even better wine, and a ship filled with single hot women, so one of two things would occur: he’d pick up her shoes and purse and escort her into her room because he wasn’t that into her, or he’d kiss her with passion.

  A flick of her tongue wet her lips, but the action didn’t relax her. She wished her heart wouldn’t beat quite so hard. His glance went to her collar bone and then focused on her mouth again. Please kiss me!

  His lips connected with hers. Slow and detailed, making her bottom lip plump with the attention and then he found the groove in her upper lip with his tongue and nothing, absolutely nothing would ever compare to his kiss. He quickly progressed from slow and searching to hard, fast, and breathtaking. His teeth clicked against hers and tongue parried with hers, and then he withdrew and sucked her mouth, pulling the tips of her lips she’d caught him staring at on several occasions. Arms wrapped around his neck, she tugged him so close their clothes were the only barrier to total satisfaction. She’d expected a flaming of embers. Instead, she’d gotten a raging inferno. A fire she didn’t want to extinguish. Ever.

  As she wove her fingers through his brown hair, the slide of zipper teeth separating the cloth of her dress sounded loud in the fraction of a second between songs. She sighed, knowing her fate was here, tonight with this man.

  Chapter 8

  Mary tugged John’s white shirt, snapping the tails from his belted pants. Her dress had loosened when he’d unfastened the hidden zipper. A flap had fallen, doubling over and exposing
one of her breasts. His soft insistent lips migrated from her neck to the crest of her nipple and in conjunction to her rioting hormones, her panties quickly grew moist.

  He slid a hand between the dress sleeve and her skin, scooting the material farther down to rest at her waist.

  Waves bashed against the outside of the ship, slam, whoosh, slam, whoosh, creating an equal rhythm in her lower body, pushing, pulling, imitating the wind pounding against the porthole. The threat of an impending storm didn’t matter; the only thing that did mean something to her was connecting with this lovely man who made her feel wanted and desirable. Her clit quivered in anticipation. No sex for the past two months had deprived her, made her yearn for intimacy. She had his buttons undone and the sleeves shoved down to his elbows. “Yes, hard and fast.”

  He sucked air.

  The dress rested at her waist. Had the garment caught on her hips? They were at a standstill, tethered in their own clothing. Together they gripped the silky material until it fell to her ankles. He unfastened the cuffs on his shirt and removed it and the tee underneath. She got busy. A snap and zip later, his trousers fell from his hips. A quick visual proved his size to be exceptional, rock hard and pulsating with life. Slipping her fingers under the band of his tight fitting boxers, she shoved them down his muscular thighs. His hands caressed her arms as she knelt, drawing her closer to his fully erect penis.

  Her skin touched his, and the inferno boiled. His mouth latched onto hers. Thighs connected, they moved in sync until the backs of her knees bumped into the bed. A quick jerk to the covers exposed pristine white sheets. In her head, she lowered herself gracefully to the mattress and then posed in a sexy manner. Unfortunately the subliminal vision didn’t play out. Having lost her balance, she plopped backward, bouncing slightly. Caught off guard, or because his foot stuck on any of the various pieces of slick clothing littering the floor, he fell on top of her.