Last Chance at Love (16 page)

“I’m going in there and get some frozen yogurt,” she told him when they passed one of the restaurants. “Want some?”

“Thanks. And while you’re getting that, I’ll duck in here.” He pointed to the men’s room.

She got a cup of black cherry for Jake and raspberry for herself and walked back to meet him. She waited fifteen minutes, threw the yogurt into a refuse basket, went back to her stateroom, turned off the telephone, and tried with little success to work on her story.

If she could, she’d box his ears. Unless he was deathly ill, spending twenty minutes in a public bathroom made no sense. It occurred to her that Jake might have secrets that he didn’t want to share with her. Well, if he thought she was going to pout, he’d get a surprise. When she met him for dinner, she meant to smile if it killed her.

Chapter 7

O
nly the Lord knew what she’d think of him now, leaving her standing by the men’s room with two cups of frozen yogurt. But he had to move. That shifty little cook bumped into him, looked as if he’d seen a ghost, and slipped around the corner. Jake took out his government-issue cell phone, hoping to find an email from the chief. With unsteady fingers he opened it.

Ring may not be your man, but he served eighteen months in a Missouri prison for accessory to a crime. He didn’t have any drugs on him, but his partner did, and he was driving the car. Word is that when he’s lying low, he gets a job on a boat. We haven’t yet been able to get “Mr. Harasser” to talk, but he will. 312.

He followed the cook to the laundry room, where the man spoke at length with a passenger, but the cook neither gave the passenger anything nor received anything from him. That wasn’t grounds for indictment, only for suspicion. Jake started for the elevator and tripped over a couple making out in a corner.

“What the...” His gaze went immediately to the woman’s left hand; he saw the rings there and said nothing more, pitying her poor husband. A call to Allison in her room yielded no response, but he knew she was there. He also knew he was in trouble. He passed the florist shop and ordered a bouquet of lavender calla lilies and pink orchids.

“Deliver them to Ms. Wakefield, 303 Deck, please.”

“Yes, sir.” The man handed him a white card. “If you wish to include a message.”

I’d rather hurt myself than you,
he wrote.
It couldn’t be helped. Love, Jake.
He put the card in the envelope, addressed it, and hoped for the best. That cook was up to something, but what? If Jake encountered drug smuggling on the ship, he would of course report it, but his assignment was to identify smugglers of human beings, and he had to focus on that. He’d watch the shifty little man, but he didn’t believe that man was his quarry.

On the way back to his stateroom, he encountered the delivery boy who had obviously just delivered his flowers to Allison. He waited until he thought she’d had time to read the note, then, fearing that she wouldn’t answer the telephone, he knocked on her door.

To his amazement, she opened it and stood in the open door, looking up at him with watery eyes. Wordless. He waited for her reprimand or even for her to slam the door shut. She did neither. Only stood there looking at him.

“I’m more sorry than you can imagine,” he said. “May I...come in?”

She stepped back, giving him access. If only she’d say something. He looked first at the vase of flowers on the table beside her bed and then at her. Never had he seen her so fragile or so vulnerable, and as badly as he wanted to hold her, he didn’t dare touch her, for she still hadn’t said a word to him.

“It couldn’t be helped,” he said, unfamiliar with the desperation he felt. “Are you going to... Allison, can you forgive me?”

She held out the card that she had obviously been holding in her hand, but which he hadn’t noticed. “Did you write this?”

“Yes. I wrote it.”

Her lips quivered, and she seemed to battle with herself. “Did you mean what you wrote?”

He took a step closer to her, and when she didn’t move he shortened the distance between them until he stood inches from her. “I meant it. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t want it, and I tried to avoid it. Yes, I still have reservations. There’s a hot fire burning here, but we haven’t tended it properly, at least not to my satisfaction. And it may blow up in our faces, but it is what it is. I’ve never lied to you.”

Her eyes finally released the tears that had glistened there, shimmering through her smile, brilliant and forgiving. He didn’t know when she opened her arms or how he got into them, but he was there, and he was home. Yes, home.

Holding her away so that he could see into her eyes, with his heart in his mouth, he asked her, “Do you... How do you feel about me?”

“You’re right in here,” she whispered, pointing to her heart. “Deep in here. And I’m scared of what it might do to us both. First time I ever saw your face, I knew I would never forget you. I hope fate has collected all the pain it plans to get from me.”

He’d better not question that statement. That and other things he didn’t know about her, not to speak of his own secrets, prevented his wholehearted acceptance of his feelings for her.

“Thanks for the flowers, Jake. They’re the most beautiful ones I’ve ever received or seen.”

“I’ve got good taste,” he teased. “After all, look who’s in my arms.”

She brushed the tips of her fingers over his cheek, stroking and caressing until he tipped up her chin to look into her face. Her dreamy, passion-filled eyes sent his blood racing, and he locked her to him and bent to her mouth.

“Open, baby, and let me in.”

She parted her lips, and when he thrust his tongue deep into her mouth, her moans sent desire plowing through him with stunning force. He wanted her at a gut-searing level, but he knew her well enough then to back off; if they made love, she would question his motives and perhaps destroy the progress he’d made with her. Besides, he hadn’t checked their rooms for hidden cameras.

As if she was second-guessing him, a rueful smile played around her lips when she said, “I guess we have to learn how to kiss without creating an explosion. Every time we’ve kissed, it’s like pouring gasoline on a fire.”

“Yeah, and one of these times... Sweetheart, it will beat landing on the moon. If I can, I’ll join you at Idlewild this weekend, but I won’t stay with you at your aunt’s house. Come to think of it, we ought to go someplace where we can have privacy.”

“We have privacy here.”

“I’m not so sure. I didn’t choose these staterooms.” Making a quick recovery from that faux pas, he said, “My publisher may not like paying for a tryst. I keep my personal life separate from business.”

He looked at his watch. “This is the only day on open sea; the ship docks tomorrow morning in Martinique. My last lecture and book signing is at four this afternoon. After that, I’ll be checking out the place, getting information for my book. The lecture’s in the theater. Can you be ready in half an hour?”

“Sure. But I would like a course in how to shift gears as fast as you do.”

* * *

At the end of the lecture, Allison stood, looked around, and gasped; the crowd filled the aisles and the hallway outside the door. “If I wait till you sign all these books,” she told Jake, “I won’t have time to dress for dinner. I’ll be ready at six-thirty. You were fantastic.”

“Thanks.” As he looked at her, his eyes sparkled with affection and a frank admission of his feelings for her. “I hope I’ve finished here by that time. This is some crowd.”

She had to save one gown for the gala—the last night on the ship—but for this night she wanted to look special. She inspected a pale yellow strapless chiffon gown and, satisfied, laid it on her bed. After showering, she refreshed her manicure and pedicure, donned a silk robe, and stretched out on the chaise lounge to read and correct her notes. A knock on the door awakened her.

Allison jumped up with a start. “Who... Oh, my goodness. Jake?” she called through the door. “What time is it?”

“Six-thirty. Why?”

“Give me fifteen minutes. I just woke up.”

“Need any help? I’m great with zippers.”

“Yeah, I’ll bet you are.”

“I can slip things on as well as off. Sure you don’t need me?”

“Not for this, I don’t. Now go away and come back in fifteen minutes.”

She twisted her hair into a French knot and secured it with a sequined comb, slipped on the gown that made her think of waltzing, put the diamond studs—her father’s gift on her twenty-first birthday—in her ears, dabbed Arpège perfume behind her ears, at her cleavage and wrists, grabbed her gold lamé evening bag that matched her shoes, and walked out of her room.

“Whew,” Jake said, leaning against the rail with his back to the water. “All this and one minute to spare. Beautiful. I wish I had a corsage for you.”

“You’ve already given me flowers today. Better not spoil me; I could get to liking it.” Her gaze swept over him. “What a figure you are in this white tux!” His wide grin told her that her comment pleased him.

“I knew you’d look great, so I had to live up to you. Let’s get a drink before dinner.”

At dinner, Allison looked around the table at their companions—three couples of differing ages. After determining that their mother tongues were not English, she attempted to guess their nationalities. The older woman, about sixty, Allison surmised, introduced herself as Marion Russell and said that she was Greek and her husband, English. The cruise was a part of their first trip to the United States. Ava Nagy and her husband were newlywed Hungarians on their honeymoon, and the third couple introduced themselves as Lena and Ned, though it amazed Allison that people with English first names spoke with such thick accents. She was about to whisper that to Jake, but didn’t when she noticed that he was busy scribbling something on a small notepad.

* * *

“Want to dance?” Jake asked her after dinner.

“Sure I do. After that meal, I need some exercise.” When his eyebrow shot up, she said, “I don’t mean
that
kind, so don’t even go there.”

She loved the grin that played around his mouth, signaling a playful mood. “Guilty as charged, but I don’t like seeming so transparent that you can read my mind.”

“When it comes to food and sex, your mind is an open book.”

A saxophone began a haunting melody, and she moved into Jake’s open arms, catching his rhythm and swaying with him as if they had always danced. His hand rested lightly on her back, made almost completely bare by her low-cut gown.

“If you think my mind is an open book,” he said, “I must have been doing one hell of a piece of acting. I always let you see the truth, Allison, but only as much of it as I want you to see. I’m just careful not to lie.”

“But I was right, wasn’t I?” she asked.

For an answer, he pulled her close, so close that air couldn’t get between them, and slowed down his movement. “I’m not in the mood for a serious discussion, and I’m hurt that you want to talk serious when I’m holding you like this in such a romantic setting, with that sax wailing out the most seductive blues I ever heard. You’ve wounded me.”

She resisted resting her head on his chest. “Poor baby. I’ll make up for it. I promise.”

He missed a step. “You want to clarify that right now?”

“Uh-uh. I can’t think straight when I’m with you like this.”

“You devil. You’ll clarify it. If not now, definitely later. Want to walk through the gaming room?” he asked when the music stopped. “I don’t play games of chance, but it’s enlightening to watch others do it. What about you?”

“I have played the slot machines, but five dollars of my own money is as much as I allow myself to lose. I’m not much of a gambler.”

As they strolled through the room, she watched in awe at the singular expression that characterized the face of nearly every slot machine player. The intensity, the hope, and then the disappointment and, for many, despair.
I’ve played my last slot machine,
she told herself.
I hate to think I was ever like this.

“Making notes for your novel?” she asked Jake when she realized he was writing.

“What better opportunity to get information than when people don’t know they’re being observed?”

“Sometimes, Jake, you speak in cryptograms, but not to worry; I like to exercise my mind.”

He stared down at her. “Good, because you certainly keep
my
mind busy.” Taking her hand, he said, “Let’s go out on deck.”

They walked with their arms around each other until he stopped. “This setting is making a romantic out of me.”

The moon shone brightly, seeming to hang low over the sea, and his arm encircled her, shielding her from the suddenly brisk breeze. “You’re a natural romantic,” she said, trying to shake her sudden sense of disquiet. “I didn’t realize the Caribbean Sea could get rough, but—”

“Depends on the weather. Are you cool?” He had been leaning against the rail, but he stood upright then and opened his arms. “You’d be surprised how good it feels just holding you.”

“I used to dream of idyllic moments like this with someone I cared for. It’s almost unreal, Jake.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s so perfect, and I’m...I’m not used to...to this. I’m used to problems and...and turmoil.”

“I told you that my shoulders are broad, and that I’m here for you. Do you understand that I’m willing to pick up your burdens if you give me a chance?”

“Yes, I do. And if that times comes, I’ll be a happy woman.”

“If? Did you say
if?
This isn’t the first time you’ve alluded to your uncertainty about yourself and about us. And yet, you can’t tell me what it’s about.”

“After I finish the story, we’ll talk, Jake—that is, if you’re still interested.”

He looked across the sea at the steadily darkening sky. “I don’t think I want to examine that too closely. For now, I have to take it on face value.” He paused as if in deep thought. “Let’s go in. This water is getting a little rough.”

As they reentered the lounge, she heard a voice speaking over the public address system say, “If you’re on deck, please come inside. We’re expecting strong winds for the next few hours.” She clutched the hand that held hers.

“I’d better go to the room and get my wristband. I’ve never been seasick, but you never can tell.”

“How do you feel now?”

“Fine.”

As they walked to their quarters, only their hands communicated. Every woman they passed looked at Jake with appreciation, some with blatant lust. She glanced up at him. The man was oblivious to it, glancing neither left nor right, as if the two of them were alone.

“We’d better not sit on the deck,” he said when they reached their quarters. His right hand went to the back of his head, and his fingers crawled through his hair. “But it seems a shame to end this evening so early. Back there when we were dancing, I really connected with you.”

“Me too, Jake. Come in, and I’ll order us some drinks and some snacks or something.”