Murder, Curlers, and Cruises

by Arlene McFarlane

  “Sorry. Don’t know the answers to your questions.”

  “Then where are you going in such a hurry?”

  “Can’t answer that either.”

  “Can’t? Or won’t?”

  The grin widened. “Why don’t you go back to playing Simon Says. Better still, let Max escort you back to your cabin. And don’t forget to lock your doors.”

  Without another word, he backed away from us, turned, and strode down the hall, slipping through the exit door.

  Max clapped his chest. “Boy, that was tense.”

  Tense. My heart was hammering, and my legs were shaking. Well, Jock de Marco wasn’t getting the better of me. I blew out a sigh and got a hold of myself, more determined to find out what he was up to.

  Max peered back in the carving room. “I thought they used molds to make those ice statues.”

  I sliced him a look. “I don’t know. You want to go ask?”

  He frowned, obviously trying to read my mind. “Didn’t you learn your lesson? Jock’s on to you.”

  I drew a thin line with my lips and crossed my arms.

  “Oh, no. I don’t like that look.”

  “Come on.” I readjusted my bag over my shoulder. “We keep following him. His unwillingness to answer my questions proves he knows something.”

  “You know what’s behind that exit sign?” His voice got high and quivery. “A dark, hollow stairwell. I don’t do well in dark, spooky places. I even sleep with my Barney nightlight on.”

  I rolled my eyes so hard I could almost see my brain—what was left of it. “It’s well lit,” I said, “and I’ll take off my heels so we don’t make any noise.”

  We tiptoed into the stairwell and waited until Jock exited two floors up. Then we crept up the staircase like mice. At the top of the landing, I squashed my nose to the glass door.

  Jock stepped onto the deck, the midnight sky and twinkling stars enhancing the muscular outline of his white uniform—undoubtedly one of the most beautiful sights I’d been privileged to view on this trip. I allowed myself a moment’s appreciation when Max elbowed me from behind.

  “You’re fogging up the glass. What’s he doing?” he wanted to know.

  I stopped swooning and wiped the door. “Looks like he’s going toward the bridge.”

  “Isn’t that where the captain mans the ship? I thought that was off-limits to passengers.”

  We faced each other, sharing a this-is-Jock-we’re-talking-about look. “Right,” we said in unison.

  Max pulled me back into the shadows. “Maybe he’s on some navy mission. Didn’t you say he was in special operations once upon a time?”

  “Firefighting,” I said.

  Max sighed. “He’s such a hero.”

  Oh boy. “You don’t do on-demand navy work. Once you’re out of the navy, you’re out.”

  He narrowed his eyes on me. “How do you know all this?”

  I acted nonchalant. “Searched it after I hired Jock.” I gestured toward the deck. “Anyway, look around. This is a cruise ship, not a navy vessel.”

  “True.” He stared out at the deck.

  “There’s no use speculating. Jock’s a master at keeping secrets. Sherlock Holmes couldn’t decipher the man.”

  “Then what do you suggest? I vote we ditch the manhunt and go back to the bar or go for a nighttime swim. Or maybe there’s still time to join the scavenger hunt.”

  I ignored his suggestions. “We need to get closer. We can’t see anything from here.”

  He threw his hands on his hips and leaned to one side. “Tiptoeing around like cat burglars might be a flashing sign. And you’ve already been caught once. I volunteer to wait here in case you need backup.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Boc boc boc.”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat, picked up my hem, and crept toward the bridge. I spied Jock in the brightly lit, glassed-in high-tech room, talking with the captain.

  “Do you see him?” Max whispered loudly from the door.

  “Shhh.” I swept my arm back at him. If I could inch closer, I might be able to hear what they were saying, or at least read their lips. I leaned over the side of the railing and craned my head toward the bridge to take a better look. I angled over too far and dropped one of my heels with a thunk into a lifeboat twenty feet below. Damn!

  Now what? I wasn’t going home without my four-inch Bottega Veneta heels. I could get two hundred bucks on eBay for these shoes. Easily.

  “Max,” I whispered hoarsely. I looked up and down the length of the deck. “Max!”

  Where could he have gone in the span of one minute? He was in my face 24/7, and when I needed him, he was playing hide-and-seek. Great.

  I examined the area to see if there was anything that might help retrieve my shoe. Like a fishing pole. Hmm. No fishing poles. Lots of life preservers, though. And while my shoe needed saving, I didn’t think a life preserver was the way to go.

  I rummaged around in my bag. Surely I had something that would help. Brush. Nail polish remover. Curling iron. Scissors. A few dozen other useless aids. Swell. Unless I wanted to give the lifeboat a makeover, nothing in my bag was going to do the trick.

  I gave up and glanced from my bare feet to my shoe below. Was twenty feet such a long drop? I just had to climb over the railing, latch onto the ledge, hang onto the rope, and lower myself down. Rock-climbing in reverse. And if I didn’t pay attention to the danger signs or the long descent to the ocean, I’d be good.

  I peered up one last time at the bridge. Jock held up his cell phone. The captain looked at it, nodded, and pointed to something on the screen. Then he shrugged at Jock. Jock tucked the phone back in his pocket and turned toward the window in my direction. Oh, no!

  Afraid of being seen, I slung my bag over my shoulder, said a prayer, and climbed over the railing. In my haste, I tripped over the ledge, snagged my dress, let go of the rope, and tumbled ass-backward into the lifeboat, landing with a whump on top of my shoe.

  I bit my tongue so hard to keep from screaming I tasted blood. The lifeboat creaked and swayed under me, my stomach lurching from the motion. Scared of dropping into the sea, I grasped the edge of the boat and held my breath.

  Suddenly, I heard footsteps and voices above. Panic swelled in my throat. What if it was Jock? I could shout for help, but I didn’t want to look like a fool again, especially after he’d caught me spying several minutes ago. Pride goeth before a fall, Valentine. Too late. I rubbed my rear end. Now I’d probably have two bruises—one from toppling on the blow dryer during the contest, and now this. I didn’t have time to baby a sore bottom. I had one option. Hide, and hope to get myself out of this.

  I searched my surroundings. Not even a tarp to pull over me. I was about as concealed as a brunette in a sea of blonds. Thankfully, my white dress blended in with the boat.

  I sucked in the pain, shrank into a ball, and slanted close to the ship. Please, no one look down. The voices became louder as if they were right on top of me. Then there was silence. Uncomfortable silence. Except for my heart. It was storming fiercely in my chest.

  I held still. Even my hair didn’t dare move a strand. Let them pass, let them pass. I stayed crouched and, what seemed like hours later, the voices started up again, and the footsteps faded into the distance.

  Whew! That was close. I uncurled my body, dusted off my clothes, and took stock of the situation. How was I going to get out of here? I glared up at the railing. Maybe going up wouldn’t be as difficult as coming down.

  I dug through my bag again and this time yanked out my curling iron. The cord would act as a rope and help in the climb back up, considering the one I’d let go of was too high to grab. I needed to loop my cord on one of those hooks, and I’d be all set. I teetered in the narrow boat, bending to put on my heels. I wouldn’t be able to hold onto them while scaling the side of the ship, and my bag was already heavy enough. Plus, my spikes would give me leverage in the climb.

  “Another fine mess you’v
e gotten into,” I scolded myself. “And this time you’ve got no one else to blame.”

  “Oh, I don’t know about that,” a deep voice said from above. “I’d put a word in to the captain about raising those lifeboats.”

  Afraid to look up into that cocksure face I knew so well, I clung to the craft and froze, goose bumps covering my arms. How did I explain why I was swinging in a lifeboat, hanging from a cruise ship, alone, at night, after Lucy had been murdered? I swallowed my pride and vehemently raised my lashes to Jock.

  “Don’t you dare talk to me about the captain!” I shouted, glad for the dark night so he couldn’t see my skin turn beet-red or witness the steam whooshing out my ears.

  He leaned clasped hands on the railing, trying his damnedest to keep from laughing. “May I ask what you’re doing down there?” He blinked, totally captivated. “Or would that sound like a stupid question?”

  Now wasn’t the time to get into an argument. I gulped, worrying at any minute I’d drop into the deep blue sea. Meanwhile, he looked breathtaking in his naval uniform, gazing down at me while a soft breeze blew his hair. I could imagine what I resembled, stranded in this…this raft, like Gilligan.

  “Actually, it is a stupid question.” Evidently, I didn’t know when to shut up. “I was admiring the stars when you happened along.”

  He raised his head, inhaling deeply as he looked out into the clear black night. “Kind of a strange place to stargaze.” He tilted his head down at me again. “But I’ll leave you to it.”

  What? I panicked. Think fast, Valentine. In about two seconds, the only hope you have of being rescued will disappear. “Wait!” I waved the curling iron above my head like a flag. “I…I need to talk to you.”

  He raised an eyebrow at the iron. “We can talk later. I don’t want to intrude.”

  Intrude. Any other time, he was breathing his sexy, hot breath down my neck, seducing me like he knew it’d been ages since I’d been with a man. Now he decided he was intruding. Of all the arrogant, sneaky…

  Well, I wasn’t one to beg. He could go to hell for all I cared. I got myself into this mess. I’d get myself out.

  We stared at each other for a long moment, the water below the only sound as it seductively lapped against the ship. He knew the ball was in my court, and his grin said as much. If I’d been twenty feet closer, I’d have slapped him or plastered myself against his hard body and sucked on his full Argentinean lips.

  What was I thinking? I was acting like I’d been marooned on a desert island, and Jock was the first sign of life. And if there was one thing I knew about Jock, he was throbbing with life.

  Before I could say anything, a large woman, whom I’d seen playing the slots in the casino, propped her wide bosom on the railing ten feet from Jock and screamed, “Man overboard!” She flailed a flabby arm over her head, holding down her wide-brimmed hat with her other hand. “Help! Man overboard!”

  Where? I dropped the curling iron in my bag and looked along the row of lifeboats hanging like mine. I didn’t see anybody fall overboard. My nest rocked as I leaned and looked over the edge. I didn’t see anyone jump.

  The woman screamed again. She wouldn’t let up, and now she had me scared. It was at least a hundred-foot drop to the water, and the night was so dark, a rescue would be hopeless. Fear filled my eyes. One passenger had already died tonight. Wasn’t that enough?

  The woman shrieked up and down the length of the deck. “Help! She’s going to jump! Helllllp!”

  The ship’s horn blared, and about forty people congregated along the railing, gaping down at me in horror. “Don’t jump! Don’t jump!” they shouted.

  Don’t jump! They thought I was the man overboard? That I was trying to end my life? How did I go from snooping on Jock to being rescued by half the ship? Perfect. I was on a cruise with my family, my mother was doing her utmost to marry me off, I had the world’s worst roommate, Romero was God-knows-where with another woman, I just lost the biggest contest of my life, a murder had just been committed, and because I accidentally dropped a shoe in this wretched lifeboat, everyone thought I was suicidal.

  Jock looked like he was about to burst. A moment later, the captain pressed through the throng, debonair as always. He spoke through a megaphone as if I were in a raft, floating to Brazil. “Let us help you!” he called in a slow, calm voice.

  Jock left his post at the railing and consulted with the captain. The two men shared a smile, and the captain ordered a couple of the crew to help me up.

  Jock was having his fun, and I was mortified. I’d give him fun if I ever caught him.

  One of the crew crawled down the rope and wrapped an ugly white safety harness around my middle like I was a harpooned whale. I boiled with embarrassment. Sadder yet, the harness was void of glitter or frills. I mean, sheesh. Could they not add a few rhinestones or lace to pretty things up in a desperate rescue?

  The men hoisted me back up to the platform by a pulley, reeled me too quickly over to the deck, and banged my legs against the top of the railing.

  “Yeow!” I kicked my legs in midair, glaring at the guy manning this contraption.

  My heels finally hit the deck, and a crew member unhooked me. Everyone cheered. I wanted to die. No, what I really wanted was to come face-to-face with Jock and give him a piece of my mind. I looked up and down the deck, swallowing my humiliation. No Jock. Why didn’t that surprise me?

  Suddenly, someone yelled, “Watch out!”

  I turned my head toward the voice just as the pulley came at me and cracked me over the ear.

  “Yee-ouch!” I gave my head a shake and rubbed my ear. They really needed to fire that guy.

  A man from dinner ran up to me with a large glass of water. “Here! Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

  I chugged back the water, and a second later my throat burned. What the…? Not again. I coughed at the familiar taste of ouzo and felt like I’d been socked between the eyes. I gave myself a moment to get my bearings straight and thought I was doing okay until I took a shaky step forward. The combination of booze and my sore head had me woozy, and I was losing my grip. I went down in a spiral, but before I hit the deck, a strong pair of arms swept me up.

  Then I blacked out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  I pried my eyes open to bright sunlight slanting in through the half-opened drapes. I couldn’t hear the boat’s constant hum. What’s more, everything seemed still. Probably because all the activity was taking place in my brain while a jackhammer drilled my skull. Most likely the champagne and ouzo I’d consumed at dinner last night punishing every inch of cerebral cortex under my scalp.

  Wait. Drapes? I didn’t have drapes in my cabin. I didn’t even have a porthole, much less a window. I looked around. This was a suite with two windows. It even had a sliding door.

  Jock’s left arm was wrapped around me, his navy tattoo in licking distance. The life preserver-shaped clock read 7:01, the sheets were a sky blue, and—whoa! Jock’s arm? Around me? Aaaaah! Panic climbed my throat.

  Get control, Valentine. It could be worse. I could be in Kashi’s bed, or Clive’s—or whatever his name was.

  I searched my memory, trying to recall how I ended up here. Captain’s Gala. Lucy’s murder. Piano bar. Trailing Jock. Falling into a lifeboat. Struck by a pulley. More ouzo—oh boy. No wonder it felt like my skull was being drilled. That was a large glass of liquor I’d gulped on the deck. Way to go, Valentine. Still didn’t explain how I ended up in this suite with Jock.

  The top of my ear was still tender, and between that and my headache, I was in great shape. I looked over my shoulder at Jock snuggled behind me in bed. Then I took two fingers and peeked at myself under the blue silk sheet.

  “Yes, you’re butt-naked,” Jock said in a low voice, pulling me against him, his stubble tickling my shoulder.

  “Stop screaming.” I pressed my ears and tried to wriggle away from him.

  Jock moved against me, and fresh panic set in. Big hard panic!

&nb
sp; I tucked the sheet between us to create some distance, but that proved futile. He draped a leg over mine and slid my hair up on the pillowcase. Then he started kissing my neck. I froze in alarm because when Jock’s mouth touched my skin, the sensation sent electrifying jolts of pleasure from my head to my toes.

  He smelled delicious, and his warm, hard body was turning me on. But my aching head was reminding me, No! He works for you! How did I wind up in bed with Jock? The question was almost out of my mouth when his hand slipped under the covers. His fingers feathered across my stomach, inching up until I didn’t trust myself to breathe. He rolled me onto my back, took my hand, and traced my finger across his moist lips. He slid my finger inside his mouth and sucked gently, his tongue teasing, whetting my desire for him.

  I was nearing an orgasmic state when he withdrew my finger and caressed my hand, massaging his thumb inside my palm. He stroked my finger up and down, smoothing the ring on my index finger. “Is this a slave ring?”

  I could barely breathe, let alone respond.

  He purred against my ear. “You want to be my slave?”

  Suddenly, there was a knock at the door. I ripped my hand away and tumbled to the floor, taking the sheet with me. Nothing covered Jock but a smile. A HUGE smile. A smile that didn’t look like it’d disappear anytime soon. A smile that suggested he wasn’t in any hurry to see who was knocking.

  I could now safely say I’d seen every inch of Jock’s glorious body. And if he ever came at me with a smile like that again, I’d fight my traitorous physique. I wasn’t afraid of Jock de Marco, but a smile like that could damn near kill a person.

  The knock again.

  “Aren’t you answering that?” I asked from the floor, trying to keep the pink out of my cheeks.

  “Room service,” someone called from the other side of the door.

  “Room service?” I wrapped the sheet around me tighter.

  Jock winked. “Saves me from going to the buffet table and making a hundred bad choices.”

  Only he would see that as a bad thing. I rolled my eyes, and even that hurt.