Jack & Jilted (8 page)

Before she could even think of what to say to that, he’d turned and was walking away.

I’m glad I met you, too, Jack, she threw back mentally. He was just what she’d needed, when she’d needed it. And he was a good man, besides.

A small part of her wanted to watch his broad-shouldered figured disappear down the walkway, back toward the ship, but she’d wasted enough time. She forced herself to get in her car, and with a small sigh she drove away.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN I’m overdrawn?” Jack barked into his cell phone. With his other hand, he rubbed at his temples.

He had hoped to find a way to distract himself from his haunting thoughts of Chloe. Thoughts a commitment-phobic, seagoing guy like himself had no business entertaining. And apparently, fate had taken him up on his request. At the moment, romantic thoughts of Chloe were the furthest thing from his mind. He was too intent on saving the first love of his life, the Rascal. And from the annoyed messages from his bank and some other creditors, he got the feeling that he was in over his head.

“Mr. McCullough,” the banker said in that well-cultured but irritated voice of his, “you’ve been overdrawn for the past week, and now your credit card is maxed out—which cancels out your overdraft protection. We have gotten several irate calls already from people expecting payment….”

“But how is this possible?” Jack said. “I deposited a check just the week before I left!”

There was a pause. “Would this be from a—” followed by a quick pause and the sound of rustling paper “—Gerald? Gerald Sutton?”

Gerald. Chloe’s ex. “Yeah, actually, it was.”

“There was a stop payment ordered,” the banker said.

“What?”

“He called and refused payment on the check,” the banker clarified, as if Jack didn’t know what a stop-payment order meant. “He insisted that it be canceled.”

“Son of a bitch.” The dull ache Jack was feeling just behind his eyes was starting to escalate to minor migraine. “Did he give a reason why?”

“Something about services not received or rendered.” And the snooty-sounding guy actually sounded accusatory toward Jack—Jack, who was his client, for God’s sake.

“So I offer a service, and you’re okay with the fact that I don’t get paid for it? And my business account gets overdrawn because of it!”

“You’ll have to take that up with him,” the banker said and he did sound a little apologetic—to a very minor degree.

“Oh, believe me, I will,” Jack spat out. Then, in his achy, fury-tinged brain, his logical side made an observation. “Wait a second. It was a local bank—it should’ve cleared almost immediately. When did he stop payment?”

More rustling of paper, and the banker gave him the date.

“Son of a bitch!” Jack did the mental math. For Gerald to stop payment before the check cleared, he would’ve had to have canceled it almost as soon as Jack had deposited it…which meant he’d canceled it almost a week before Jack took Chloe out on the Rascal.

Which meant the butt head had known that he wasn’t going on his own honeymoon cruise and that he could’ve given Chloe warning instead of standing her up at the altar.

“Really, Mr. McCullough,” the banker said in a disgusted tone. “This sort of language isn’t necessary. And this isn’t my fault.”

Jack bit back another oath and then sighed. “You’re right. This isn’t your fault. I’ll get in contact with the client.”

“Uh, Mr. McCullough, that still doesn’t resolve the situation,” the banker pointed out. “You’re overdrawn. When were you planning on rectifying that issue?”

“Well, I was planning on rectifying that issue with another check from Gerald Sutton,” Jack said with asperity, “but I guess we can count that out, huh?”

“Mr. McCullough, this is the sort of thing that ruins credit and certainly hurts your account status….”

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jack snapped. “Listen, I have to go shake this guy down, so I can pay you guys and then pay a half million other guys thirsting for my blood, okay? I’ll call back later.”

“But Mr. McCul—”

Jack hung up on the banker, feeling his blood boil. Gerald frickin’ Sutton. The name to his pain.

“Everything okay, boss?” Jose asked nervously.

“Yeah, fine,” Jack said. “You can go ahead on home. We’re not sailing out again until Thursday anyway. Another honeymoon couple.” And please, God, let their check clear.

“Uh…all right. Later, Jack.” With that, Jose left. Ace had already gone—something about a new girl or something. Ace wanted to show her a good time before they set sail again.

At this rate, setting sail again was looking pretty damned grim.

Jack retreated to the desk in his cabin, digging up the check that Gerald had given him. He called the phone number. “Hello?” a male voice asked—deep but sort of tentative.

“Is this Gerald Sutton?”

“Yes, it is,” the bass voice responded. “Who is this?”

This is the guy you’re trying to screw over, you piece of crap.

Jack took a deep breath. “This is Jack McCullough, captain of the Rascal.”

A long pause. “I’m sorry?”

“That would be the ship you chartered for your honeymoon cruise,” Jack clarified. “That would’ve been last week?”

“Oh,” Gerald responded, then quickly sounded embarrassed as he put two and two together. “Oh.”

“Know why I’m calling?” Jack asked, trying hard to keep his voice even.

“If this is about the check, I was well within my rights,” Gerald said, his voice rising a couple of octaves. That must be his “mad” voice, Jack realized. “After all, I wasn’t using your honeymoon cruise. I didn’t even get married!”

“Yeah, I know about that,” Jack said. “Left the girl at the altar. With a note,” he added, unable to keep his disgust hidden. “In front of all her friends and family. Nice.”

“You don’t know what happened, and how dare you judge me,” Gerald squeaked. Yes, the man actually squeaked. “And how exactly are you the wronged party? Why should I pay you for a cruise nobody even took?”

“Oh, somebody took it all right,” Jack said.

“I certainly did not!”

“No, you didn’t,” Jack agreed. “Chloe did.”

Now another long pause. “Chloe went on the cruise?”

Jack let out a frustrated breath. “Didn’t you wonder what the hell happened to her after you pulled your vanishing trick? Wonder why she didn’t call you? Or why she didn’t stop by your house?”

“Well…no,” Gerald stammered. “I was away. In Santa Barbara.”

Taking a little getaway of your own, huh? “She needed time to think, get away from her family and her troubles,” Jack said between gritted teeth. “You stuck her with the wedding. The least you could do is pick up the tab on a vacation for her.”

“Is that what she told you?” Gerald sounded peeved but also a guilty. Scumbag.

“No, that’s what I put together,” Jack said, feeling guilty himself. Actually, that’s what you convinced her to do. “So are you going to be a punk or are you going to pay for the cruise and give the poor woman you abandoned a break?”

Gerald coughed nervously. “Well, but that’s not fair,” he tried.

“You canceled the check a week before the wedding, butt head,” Jack said, his patience finally worn out. “You could’ve spared her the public humiliation, but you didn’t. So how exactly is that fair?”

“Shut up!” Gerald snapped. “I don’t owe her—or you—a damned thing. If you want to get paid so badly, go get the money from your passenger—Chloe! And don’t bother me again!”

“I could sue you,” Jack said, even though what he really wanted to say was I could kick your ass from here to Madagascar, you useless rat.

“Try it,” Gerald said, laughing bitterly. “My family’s loaded. Our lawyers would eat you alive.”

“You son of a bitch.” There really wasn’t any other phrase for guys like Gerald, Jack realized.

Gerald hung up without an answer.

Jack stared at the cell phone for a second, contemplating throwing it at a wall, but it wasn’t the phone’s fault, and frankly he couldn’t afford another one right now. He carefully put it down in a drawer, out of harm’s way. Then he stared at the mountain of paperwork on his desk. Bills, with Past Due printed on them in red ink. His admittedly rough budget—and how much he would need to bring in to pay another chef and masseuse. At this rate, he had no idea how he was going to pay anybody, even if he could find replacements. And the passengers he was picking up on Thursday were expecting everything to be top-of-the-line…he remembered that the husband was a pain in the butt.

Just what I need—another problem.

Jack put his head down on the desk for a second, then straightened up and opened another drawer. This one contained the other Jack—his bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He took a swig straight out of the bottle, feeling the warmth of the whiskey hit him like a cannonball in his stomach.

As he’d once counseled Chloe, he was about to do something little and stupid…because he couldn’t think of anything else to do.

The thought instantly brought back Chloe’s chosen “little and stupid” solution. His eyes went to his bed, remembering the last time he’d had her in it…and near it, against the wall. And on the floor, come to think of it.

What you really need is a little more of that kind of solution.

He shook his head. No, he had enough problems. The last thing he needed was a woman like Chloe Winton, who would probably be the best thing that ever happened to him—right up to the point where he broke her heart by leaving.

CHLOE DROVE BACK TO her parents’ house feeling strangely calm. She already knew that they’d be greeting her with questions: where were her checklists, what was her action plan, things like that. And she wasn’t quite sure how to tell them that after a week away, she still didn’t have any clear idea of what she was going to do next. Ordinarily, that out-of-control sensation would be enough to cause her to break out in a cold sweat of anxiety, but not today. Today she just felt…loose.

She shook her head, smiling at the thought. Loose as in flexible, she corrected, not as in the loose woman sort of way. Although technically she might qualify there, as well. Now that she was physically away from Jack, the whole thing seemed too unreal to be credible. It was as if she’d just had a weeklong daydream.

She was still smiling when she walked through the front door. “Mom! Dad! I’m home!” She left her roller bag in the entryway, at the foot of the stairs. She was somewhat surprised that they weren’t waiting for her in the living room. She hunted around, finally finding them in the home office, by the garage.

“Hey, guys,” she said, surprised by the somberness of their expressions. “Are you all right?”

“Oh, honey,” her mother said, coming over and hugging her. Her voice sounded near tears.

Chloe instantly felt alarm shoot through her. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“We’ve had a terrible week,” her mother answered, turning to her father. “You just wouldn’t believe it. We certainly couldn’t believe it.”

“What happened?” Chloe insisted.

“The wedding,” her father said, and his voice was deadly cold. “All the bills we paid on the understanding that the Suttons would be paying for half. All the deposits we paid. Everything.” He let out a deep exhalation. “We got a call from Mrs. Sutton, Gerald’s mother. She says that since the marriage was canceled, she can’t see how Gerald should be financially responsible for any of it.”

“What?”

“I know!” Her mother dabbed at her eyes. “We figured it was in good faith—we’d all agreed, and you made so many concessions for that evil woman, added so many expenses. For her to say now that they’re not going to be financially responsible!” Her tone was beyond incredulous. “And he was in the wrong, after all. He left you! He stranded you in front of all those people! He humiliated you!”

“Yeah, I know,” Chloe said, the sting coming back twice as strong. “I can’t believe this. I had no idea they’d stoop this low.”

“I’m going to sue those bastards,” her father said. “For every last cent. And I’ll win, damn it. I don’t care what kind of flesh-eating lawyers those Suttons have!”

Chloe winced. Actually, she did know the kind of lawyers the Suttons had. Even though it seemed clear that Chloe and her family were the wronged parties, by the time those pin-striped sharks were finished, they’d probably convince a judge that Chloe pay Gerald for mental cruelty or something. They were that good and that vicious.

“We’re on a fixed income, Chloe,” her mother pleaded. “We were so happy to be able to retire two years ago, and I was so sorry we couldn’t help more with the wedding, but there’s no way we can pay for this.”

“I have some savings,” Chloe said, mentally flashing through her bankbook. “And I can probably break into my retirement fund. I can pay for most of what I need to.”

“But that will wipe you out completely!” her mother said, aghast.

“It’s fine. I’ll just live here until I can get back up on my feet,” Chloe said staunchly. “It was what I was planning to do anyway. Besides, we’re going to need to divide up the house now, as well. I might be able to wring some concessions out of him on that one.”

“Good luck with that,” her father commented. “If his mother has anything to say about it, you’re not getting nearly the market value for that thing. Hell, she may try to get you to buy him out.”

“She’s a demon,” her mother added. “I try not to talk badly about anyone, but I have never met anyone as evil as that woman!”

“You’re right on that one,” Chloe agreed. “Let me call Gerald, see what’s going on. There has to be a solution to this.”

“Oh, I hope you’re right.” Her mother sounded like a fluttering, wounded bird.