Well, by a psycho.
There were plenty of stories circulating about Blaine’s prior employment stints. Someone in the purser’s office claimed to have a detailed list of everyone Blaine had slept with to get to be head of beverage services. There were supposedly twenty-six men on the list. The woman worked fanatically, obsessed with making it to the very top, overseeing all beverage services for the entire cruise line. She had also announced a plan to marry one of the owners and then retire before she was thirty.
Directed therapy would help her more than getting married, Gina thought, dropping the last strawberry into place on a chocolate-strawberry mousse.
Not that she cared what Blaine did with her life, as long as the witch stayed far away from Gina’s kitchen.
High heels tapped hollowly behind Gina’s prep station, an unusual sound in the kitchen. Gina and her staff always wore athletic shoes. It was safer given the constant motion of physical work aboard a moving vessel.
“I need to talk to you.”
“Sorry, I’m busy.” Gina kept sliding cheesecakes out of the oven and into the flash refrigerator. She savored a brief but satisfying vision of shoving Blaine into the flash refrigerator right along with them. “Can’t talk right now. Try me in an hour.”
“Now. Someone has moved my best Merlot.”
Gina juggled another tray. “Which concerns me how?”
“Because it was one of your staff. Henry, my beverage assistant, saw their uniform.”
“Blaine, all of my staff have been here in this room helping me prepare for dinner for the last hour. Now if you’ll excuse me—”
“You’re trying to cover up for them.” Blaine pointed a red-tipped nail at Gina. “News flash to all of you. It won’t work, because I have documentation and a witness. Whoever did it will be tossed off at the next port. If you try to cover up for them, you’ll go with them.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Gina stepped around Blaine to reach another tray and felt an elbow dig into her ribs.
Blaine gave her a hard shove. “Listen to me when I’m talking.”
As her rib throbbed, Gina froze. Something unraveled inside her. She’d taken too much from the schemer. She wouldn’t take any more. Being a victim wasn’t in her life plan. She shoved back, sending Blaine against the polished steel wall of the refrigerator. “Do not bring your skinny size-two butt into my kitchen again without a written invitation. And do not give me orders. Understand?”
“You hit me.” There were two spots of color in Blaine’s cheeks, and something like triumph in her eyes. “You twisted my arm.”
Gina looked down. As if from a distance, she saw her fingers gripping tanned skin. She took a hard breath and then stepped back. “Leave.”
“I’ll have bruises on my arm.” Blaine smiled thinly. “You are as good as fired already. You know there’s a zero-tolerance policy for fighting.”
Gina’s eyes narrowed. “It’s always lovely to chat with you, Blaine, but some of us have actual work to do.” She nodded to her assistant, who was already headed their way. “Andreas, why don’t you show Blaine and her skinny butt out of my kitchen?”
“You can’t just—”
Gina’s Brazilian assistant moved in front of Blaine, looking stiff and protective and very angry. When Blaine tried to step around him, her heel slipped and she caught herself on one of the counters.
“Touch me and I’ll scream,” she said shrilly.
“Andreas didn’t touch you. I didn’t touch you until you attacked me. We’ve got cameras here that will back me up,” Gina said coldly. “Remember that when you plan to lie about what happened. Also it’s a stupid idea to wear high heels when you’re in a kitchen.”
“Some of us prefer to look like women. I guess you wouldn’t understand that.” Blaine’s voice rose, carrying through the whole room. “Who exactly did you sleep with to get those TV scouts here? We both know it can’t be because of your cooking or your looks. Maybe you’re just good with your mouth.”
Andreas moved directly in front of Blaine and closed his hands to fists. “You’re leaving.” Two of Gina’s other staff moved in to flank him. All three watched Blaine with palpable hostility.
“We’ll see who’s going to leave. And I mean permanently.” Blaine stalked out, her high heels echoing like gunfire.
“Well, the Blaine show is over.” Gina took a deep breath and tried to shrug off the tension in the air. Blaine had nothing to base a complaint on. It was an empty threat.
Andreas crossed his arms, standing protectively near the door. “That woman is definitely going postal. A set of thermometers was missing from my station yesterday. Last week one of the mixers was broken,” he said quietly.
“You didn’t tell me that.”
“I thought it was a coincidence. Now I’m starting to think it was the Wicked Witch.”
Gina set down a tray of cheesecakes. “You think Blaine got in here without any of us seeing?”
“Either that or she had one of her staff slip in.” Andreas shook his head. “Did you see the look on her face? She would gladly have stuck a knife in your neck if she’d had one handy.”
“As long as she keeps her distance, we’ll be fine.” But Gina had an uncomfortable picture of Blaine sneaking around the pastry galley, snooping at her desk and accessing her computer files. She could have sabotaged Gina’s recipes and staff e-mails while she was at it.
As a matter of fact, several of Gina’s e-mails had gone missing the previous week. Nothing major, but odd just the same. Now it was starting to make sense.
Andreas’s eyes narrowed. “What did she do now?”
“I lost some e-mails. Tobias has been telling me to beef up the password security here in the galley, but I didn’t think it was important before…”
“Before the witch went postal. Tobias is right.” Andreas paced the narrow work area. “I’ve gotten some strange spam and newsletters from sites I’ve never visited.” His lips curled. “Very bad sites.”
Pornography? Gina knew all of her staff well. They were normal, healthy and curious, but she just didn’t see Andreas or any others involved in that behavior. Besides, the man was gorgeous. With his high-voltage smile and liquid Brazilian accent, he could have his pick of women on the ship’s staff.
“So Blaine is trying to set us up through the computers.” Things were more serious than she’d imagined. “Do you think she has that kind of digital skill?”
Andreas jammed a hand through his spiky dark hair. “That I cannot say. I’m no tech expert. But I think we need Tobias to put up those hot walls right away.”
“Firewalls,” Gina’s pastry assistant from St. Croix cut in. Imogen was almost six feet tall and as regal as any runway model. She could also belt out a mean reggae tune with complete moves to match. “I know a little about computer security. We had a course at my local college.”
“Great, Imogen. You be our tech liaison with Tobias. And until our security is beefed up, all of us use our own passcodes. No more generic codes, understood? I want to know exactly who is on the system, when and why.”
Andreas gave a rueful laugh. “Busted. I always forget my code.”
“Write it inside your underwear or on your foot, but don’t forget.” Gina bent over her computer terminal, accessing the pastry portal. “I’m deleting the general access code right now. Imogen, you and Tobias set up a serious defensive wall in here. If Blaine’s trying to cause problems in our department network, I want her stopped. I’d also like proof of this in case I need to document the tampering.”
“Count on it, Chief.” The tall woman flipped her apron in the general direction that Blaine had left. “Bad smell. That woman, she gives me one huge pain in my butt.”
“No kidding.” Gina studied each of her staff one by one. “From now on we all have to be careful. Report anything odd to me or to Tobias. Keep an eye on all your e-mails and be sure to log out when you leave the area. It would also be a good idea to
passcode-protect any important or personal files.” She turned away, sneezing. “Fine, my allergies are back. Count on Blaine to stir them up.” She scanned her desk and shifted some new paperwork. “Where did I put my time-release antihistamines?”
“No worries. You can use mine.” Imogen pulled a foil package from her apron. “These work for twelve hours and they don’t even make you sleepy. My brother is a pharmacist in St. Croix, and he tells me exactly which ones to buy.”
“Thanks, but I’m supposed to take a specific brand. All the others put me right to sleep. It’s a genetic thing.” Gina dug through her desk, muttering. “I know they were here. I saw them yesterday.”
“These?” Andreas crouched and pulled a small plastic bottle from beneath Gina’s desk. “You must have dropped this earlier.”
Gina didn’t move, staring at the floor. Was she seeing a new pattern here? Had Blaine been tampering with her medicine and going through her desk, as well as hacking her computer?
Or was that total paranoia?
Gina stared at the bottle.
“What’s the matter?” Imogen leaned over her shoulder. “You think something’s wrong with these?” She poured out two gel tabs onto her palm. “They look like the ones you always take. And they have the green letters C-R on one side. If they’re counterfeit, then someone went to a whole lot of trouble to make them look good.” Imogen frowned. “You don’t think that Blaine—”
“Trust me, she’s not smart enough or quick enough,” Gina said flatly, even though she wasn’t convinced. Meanwhile her staff moved uneasily, circling the bottle. If something didn’t restore morale fast, they’d be spooked and work would suffer. When you were moving fast in tight quarters with hot dishes, the last thing you needed was distractions like this.
“We need to be careful, but not let Blaine make us crazy. She’s not Superwoman, after all.” Gina checked the pills, saw the C-R imprint and grabbed a bottle of water from her desk. “I’m sure these are fine.” She downed one as proof.
Then she fell against the wall, grabbing her neck with a gurgling sound.
“Help her!” Andreas and Imogen were at her side in a second. “Go get the doctor.”
“Gotcha!” Gina stood up, grinning. “Sorry, but I couldn’t resist. All of you looked like we were dead already. Don’t let Blaine spook you like that.”
Andreas blew out a little breath. “This is good idea. We’ll watch the kitchen and our computers. She won’t have the way to touch us now.”
As Gina finished cooling the last cheesecakes, she prayed that her assistant was right. But she remembered too clearly the hate on Blaine’s face.
Watch your back, Tobias had warned her.
Apparently, she was going to have a war on her hands. As insurance, she decided to send Tobias a written report of all the incidents noted by her staff.
The timer pinged on her desk.
“Hey, Chief, aren’t you supposed to meet your friend? It’s almost five-fifteen.”
Gina spun around and chewed on her lip. Where had the afternoon gone? She still had the day’s food usage to tally and a new set of pastry tools to order through the executive head of catering.
“I’ll finish the decorating tool order,” Andreas said quietly.
“And I’ve got the food usage tally started anyway,” Imogen announced. “Go meet your friend.”
“I can’t let you—”
“Why? Last week you worked my station twice while I had the flu,” Imogen said. “Are you Superwoman now? Take the night off for once.”
“As your next in command, I agree.” Andreas pointed to the door. “Get going, Chief.”
“Ganging up isn’t fair.” Gina rubbed floury hands on her jacket. “There’s still time for me to do the food tally.”
“That’s why you have smart, efficient, brilliant and gorgeous staff like us.” Imogen waved a notebook in the air. “See? Nearly done. You go have a nice time with your friend. Everything will be fine here. Blaine’s probably forgotten all about us by now.”
THE CABIN WAS DARK. Low, sultry jazz drifted from a small but very expensive stereo unit.
Blaine crossed her legs, letting her skirt ride higher up her tanned thighs. “I’ve only got fifteen minutes.”
The man opposite her watched every move, his eyes unreadable. “This shouldn’t take long. I brought what you wanted.”
“You brought the first item on my list. What about the other things?” Blaine tried not to stare at the long, fairly recent scar below his right eye.
The man shook his head. “These files go back ten years. Digging any further will take some time.”
Blaine stretched, slipping her skirt higher, pulling her silk camisole tight across her breasts. Her nipples were already hard. She liked how they felt against the sheer silk. “They told me digging was your specialty, that no one was better.” She stood up and crossed her arms. “I guess they were wrong. That means this meeting is over.”
The man sitting across from her reached into a leather portfolio. “I’ll get the earlier information you want. Meanwhile, these aren’t what you expected.” He held up a manila envelope tied with string. “They’re very detailed. And they’re going to cost you more.”
Blaine leaned over and ran her fingers along his arm. “What did you find?”
“Old e-mails. Newspaper files. She got a lot of media attention back in Seattle, only she had a different name then.”
Blaine’s eyes glittered with excitement. “What kind of media attention? Something I can use against her?”
He laughed shortly. “You’re a real bitch, aren’t you?”
“It never seemed to bother you before.”
“It doesn’t bother me now. I’m just surprised at how much you hate her. Is it because she’s more talented, or is it just that other people like her and hate you?”
Blaine cursed, shoving his hand off her leg, but he moved faster than she’d expected, twisting her arm and yanking her against his chest. “That just made my price double. If you want this file, it’s going to cost you twenty thousand.”
She stopped fighting and relaxed, tracing his mouth with a long red fingernail. “Maybe I can throw in something besides money,” she whispered.
He seemed to hesitate. When her hand slid slowly down his chest, he shook his head. “You really are one hell of a bitch, aren’t you?”
She smiled coldly. “And you love it. Let’s see how much.” She found his zipper and jerked it down.
The man with the scar held the file out of reach, watching her fight to reach it. “I hear you’re good at what you do.”
“Oh, I’m very good.” Blaine unbuttoned her blouse slowly. “Believe it.” She stared hungrily at the thick file as her fingers moved, searching past his zipper, finding hot skin.
Her sheets hit the floor. In seconds the last of her clothes followed. She gasped as their bodies strained, then slammed together.
Soon his panting was drowned out by the slap of their sweating bodies. When the precious file toppled from the bed, she caught it with her free hand.
Her smile was icy and very satisfied.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
GINA KICKED OFF her comfortable cooking clogs and tossed her chef’s jacket over a chair. Her bedside clock read 5:22. She was barely going to make dinner on time.
Skimming off clothes right and left, she ran a brush through her hair and tugged on black pants and a white cotton top. She prayed that Carly was just the same, still unconcerned with fashion and everything except f-stops and light angles. Now that her college friend had three little girls, the photography would have serious competition.
They’d been roommates all through college, had laughed over freshman orientation rituals and bonded over basic physics. Both had hated it, but they’d struggled through economics, grilling each other before tests. They’d passed physics with solid marks and gone out to celebrate in the dead of a Chicago winter.
Singly they were strong. Together they had been
invincible.
After that they’d seen each other when they could, sharing job woes, boyfriend complaints. Then had come Carly’s marriage and the birth of her triplets.
After leaving Seattle, Gina had fallen out of touch with her friend. Before she knew it, years had raced past. Carly’s babies were almost ten now.
Maybe they had both changed beyond recognition.
Staring into the mirror, Gina pulled on the shrug she’d knitted. The design was simple, but the knitted lace panels hugged her shoulders, and the misty blue flattered her complexion. She frowned into the mirror above her simple oak dresser. Why was she so freaked out about meeting an old friend? Was it because Carly had always seen through her excuses and read her mind? Would Carly see the anxiety she needed to hide now?
Not likely. She hadn’t seen her friend in years. They wouldn’t have the wordless communication they’d shared in college.
Times changed. People changed.
On her desk was a photo of a tall man, a radiant woman and three grinning little girls running over a beach in the Caribbean. Carly had taken the shot using a timer. Only someone with her skill could have caught the palpable sense of love and energy in the scene.
Gina had knitted careful gifts for all of them. She had used lavender cotton in a sweater for Olivia. For Sunny she had knitted a shimmery poncho in recycled Indian silk, bright with crimson and pink and lime green. Cleo, the third girl, was more formal, according to Carly, so Gina had made her a small tank top with lace at the hem. For Carly she had made a lace shawl in alpaca fine enough to pull through a key ring. Ford had been the most difficult of all. Gina had decided on socks of brown and tan and forest green in camo colors.
She studied the wrapped gifts nervously. Maybe she should have scrapped the whole idea and bought gifts from one of the shops in Mazatlán or Cabo.
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