Jack & Jilted (10 page)

“No, I intend to pay you,” she insisted. “But I wanted to discuss something with you first.”

He shrugged. He wondered if she wanted to talk about their week together. It had been amazing—and confusing. And he was in no state, honestly, to deal with it right now. Not with all the rest of his life crashing down around his ears.

“Gerald refused to pay for his half of the wedding, as well,” she said instead.

Considering he’d steeled himself for an entirely different sort of conversation, her casual comment jolted him. “That bastard!”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much what I said.” She smiled that wry smile of hers. “Not only that, but he’s sort of holding our house hostage. I’m going to need to wade through the whole mess with his family’s lawyers, and believe me, those guys are no joke.”

“So I’ve heard,” Jack said, remembering Gerald’s high-pitched threat.

“I had to raid my savings to pay for all the wedding stuff. Even wiped out my retirement,” she said. She wasn’t dramatic, she wasn’t even near tears. She just sounded strong and determined. “So I’m going to need to make mortgage payments to keep my credit clear and I’m going to have to find a job—but that’s going to be kind of tight for the short term. And I’m going to need to hire a lawyer.”

“Wow,” he murmured. “And I thought I was in a jam.”

“The thing is, I need to make a mint in a relative hurry,” she said.

Then she stared at him. He didn’t mind—he was enjoying the view of her himself—but he wasn’t tracking where she was going with this.

“I want to make you a proposition.”

His body tightened at her words. The last time she’d propositioned him…the warmth hit him in a rush. “What kind of proposition?” he barely got out, suddenly forgetting all of his financial woes in the face of a wave of desire.

She cleared her throat. “A business proposition,” she said.

He blinked. Why was he having so much trouble following her? Okay, so he wasn’t thinking with his head, but still. “What sort of business proposition?”

“I think you could be making a lot more money on your cruises and booking a lot more,” she said. “And I’ll bet you could save a lot with your bookkeeping and consolidating your banking.”

His eyes widened. “I’m listening.”

“I may not be much of a sailor, but, well, I am a kick-butt manager,” she said, blushing a little. “I think I could help you a lot. I think we might be able to help each other.”

He sighed. “That sounds great, Chloe, but there’s one problem. I’m broke, remember? I couldn’t afford to hire you, much as I’d love to help.”

“I’m not asking you to hire me,” she corrected gently. “I’m asking you to let me help you in exchange for a share of the profits.” She paused, then smiled shyly. “Sort of as a partner.”

A partner. He took a physical step back, he was so surprised. The Rascal was his ship and his alone. He’d never in a million years considered sharing it with anybody else.

“We’d need to talk about it more,” she said, her voice soothing and persuasive. “Obviously, we don’t want to jump into anything. But at the same time, we both are in a crunch and we don’t have a lot of time to waste. So…are you up for discussing it?”

He thought about it. She was cool, no question—but that was as a passenger. And what she was proposing was a long shot, at best. Even more confusing, they’d be working together, in close proximity more than likely. After the week they’d spent together, full of fun, sun and rebound sex, what would that do to their working relationship?

It had disaster written all over it.

“I don’t…”

“I’ll also act as your cook,” she offered. “And I can do housekeeping, too.”

He swallowed hard. “When can you start?”

UNTIL RECENTLY, CHLOE had never propositioned a man in her life. Now she’d done it twice, to the same man, in a two-week time span. And, amazingly enough, he’d said yes. Both times.

She had no idea if she was making the biggest mistake of her life or what, but whatever she was doing, she was doing it quickly.

She looked again at the menu plan the charter passengers had ordered. Jack should have charged them extra, considering the ingredients they were requiring. He was charging too low as it was, considering the amenities he was offering. At the same time, she wasn’t sure that he was offering the right amenities. She was shocked to find out he didn’t have a business plan. She might’ve been “just a secretary” with Gerald, but she’d learned all about business from the architectural firm. She’d apparently picked up more than she’d thought. She’d certainly picked up enough to know that Jack could be doing a lot better. With any luck, they would be making more money in less time, and she’d make enough to not only cover her share of the mortgage until she could sell the dumb thing but pay a lawyer to get the rest of what she was owed from Gerald. It was a tall order, but she would persevere.

Of course, there were a few other problems to tackle along with her new partnership.

Jack walked into the galley, looking harried. “How’s lunch coming?”

“Don’t tell me—they’re asking for it,” Chloe joked.

“Demanding, actually,” Jack said. “Man, if I didn’t need the money…”

“We’re all doing stuff we wouldn’t ordinarily be doing,” she said, finishing the last decorative touches on the lunch plates. “Don’t worry, they’re taken care of.”

“Thanks,” he said. “They’re all set up on the bow deck—that’s up front. I’ll carry it out if you could just clean up afterward.”

“No problem,” she agreed easily. “And let them know I’ll be cleaning their cabin while they’re enjoying lunch. That ought to chill them out.”

Jack smiled, the first really relaxed smile she’d seen him wear all day. “How did I get lucky enough to find you?” he said, giving her a teasing tug on her ponytail.

She turned and winked at him, enjoying the relaxed, joking atmosphere. It reminded her of her own week on the Rascal.

He reached for the plates in front of her, accidentally brushing a forearm against her breasts and causing a bolt of heat to disperse from the pit of her stomach. She drew in a breath in surprise—and, she hated to admit, pleasure.

He paused, his hands on the plates, staring at her, his gold-green eyes practically luminescent in the dim fluorescent lights of the galley. For a second, it was as if the guests—hell, the whole boat—disappeared.

She remembered that sensation, too. In fact, she remembered it all too well.

She forced herself to clear her throat. “They’re probably complaining about how late lunch is,” she said, her voice a touch too husky.

It seemed to take him a second to register what she said. He gave her a wobbly smile. “Right. Right. I’ll just get these out to them, then.”

He took the tray, balancing the heft of it with ease, and then headed out into the hallway.

When the door closed behind him, Chloe let out a deep breath, feeling more heat flush through her. That was a close one.

She hadn’t brought up their previous arrangement, and neither had he. She hadn’t done anything remotely physical with him—not even shaking his hand, she realized. It was as if they were knife fighters, circling each other warily in a pit somewhere. Not that they were adversarial. They were just…cautious. And considering how explosive their brief physical encounters had been, she didn’t think they were going overboard. If anything, she wondered if maybe they could be more careful.

If I react this way when we’re in the same room for a day, she thought, her heart rate starting to pick up in speed, what am I going to do when we’re out at sea for a week at a time, on one small ship?

They were going to have to deal with it, she thought. She would probably have to say something. Put everything in black-and-white. Make everything crystal clear. She’d made too many assumptions and rushed blindly ahead when she’d been with Gerald, and look where that had gotten her.

The thought of Gerald was the dash of cold water she needed. She straightened her shoulders and headed for the door, ready to talk to Jack immediately.

She almost got knocked out by the door swinging in. It was Jack, without a tray.

“They seem happy,” he said, sounding relieved. “Thank God you’re a good cook.”

“Yes. Well.” Okay, here’s your shot, she told herself. “You know, Jack…”

He sighed, nudging her chin to look at her. “You are amazing and you are wickedly competent.”

She paused, thrown off course by his compliment. “Uh, thanks.”

“And I get the feeling that if anybody could help bring the Rascal around, it’d be you.”

She smiled, squirming a little on the inside. “Well, I’m certainly going to try.”

“I have to admit, I was uneasy with the idea of a partnership, though,” he said, moving past her and leaning against the galley’s counter, crossing his arms. “And if I weren’t in such a jam…hell, I like you, Chloe, but I never would’ve said yes.”

She nodded, frowning slightly at the turn of the conversation. Of course, this would make her decision that they shouldn’t have sex again somewhat easier to say.

“But as long as we’re in this, I think we ought to have a few ground rules.”

“I think so, too,” she agreed.

“Let me finish,” he countered, putting up a hand. “We both need this too much to get…distracted. And after, well, the last time we were together…”

He let the sentence peter out.

She swallowed hard. “You know, I was about to say we should probably agree not to sleep together again.”

Now he looked more than relieved—he looked as if he’d gotten a stay of execution. “Exactly.”

She couldn’t help but feel a little insulted at the depth of his tone. Sure, she’d been about to propose the same thing—but did he have to sound so happy about it? She knew she was probably being unreasonable, but the past few weeks had been hell on her ego as it was. She had to scrape together what dignity she could find.

“Not that our time together wasn’t great,” he hastily amended. “It was. You know it was. I mean, it was…great,” he finished lamely.

“Don’t help,” she murmured.

He sighed heavily, frowning in return. “I can’t afford to screw this up,” he said in his brusque business voice. “And neither can you.”

She nodded. He definitely had a point there.

“So no matter what else, this has got to be the most important thing between us. Agreed?” He put a hand out.

She nodded. “Agreed.”

She took his hand. It was broad, calloused, strong…hot. She instantly flashed to the feel of his hand on her shoulder. On her breast.

As if she’d touched a hot stove, she jerked her hand away.

“Okay, then,” he said. Was it her imagination or did his voice sound strained? “Just business.”

“Just business,” she echoed weakly.

They stared at each other for a long minute. Then the door swung open again.

“Morning.”

It was Inga, the new masseuse that Jack had hired for this cruise. She was young, about twenty-four years old. She had long blond hair that Chloe suspected wasn’t really blond. Chloe also suspected the girl hadn’t been born with the name Inga. She was tall, closer to Jack’s height than Chloe’s, and she had the impossibly perfect body of a model, thin and willowy. The only counterpoint to that was her larger-than-life-chest. Again, not a factory original. Chloe knew she was probably being unkind, but the woman somehow rubbed her the wrong way.

“What’s for breakfast?”

“It’s noon,” Chloe pointed out.

“Oh.” Inga yawned, stretching her arms overhead and causing her chest to stick out even more. “So what’s for lunch, then?”

Chloe looked at Jack, who shrugged apologetically. “There are sandwiches in the fridge,” she said. “Help yourself.”

“Is that all?”

Chloe gritted her teeth. “They’re good. Try one,” she said. “I have to clean out the Whitneys’ cabin.”

As Chloe headed to the door, she saw Inga walk up to Jack. “Maybe I could make us something,” she said, her tone deliberately provocative.

Chloe felt a jolt of jealousy sting through her and she let the door close.

Of course, Chloe’s relationship with Jack was strictly business. That didn’t mean he had to keep all his work relationships that way, she realized.

Ignoring the angry burn in her chest, she went to clean the cabin and think of other ways of ignoring Jack, Inga and the whole situation.

“HOW COOL IS IT THAT we got Chloe?” Ace asked Jack two weeks after she’d joined the crew.

Jack made a noncommittal grunt, keeping his attention riveted on his desk. “She’s booked three more cruises for us,” he said, marveling at the fact that she’d managed to get even more money for them. He wasn’t sure about the brochure redesign she wanted—that would cost money, and he didn’t see the point in fixing what he had—but some of the other stuff she’d wanted to institute seemed smart.

“She’s a godsend,” Ace said in reverent tones.

“Yeah, well, that godsend just took away your free weekend,” Jack countered mildly. “We’ve got another cruise tomorrow, so get your R R tonight.”

“Oh,” Ace said, a little less enthused. “Well, that’s okay. I don’t want this girl I’m seeing to get too committed too quickly anyway.”

Ace walked out, leaving Jack to ponder that statement. He used to feel that way, he remembered with some fondness. Back when he actually, you know, had time to have a fun social life. The kind that involved sex with hot women that had no future entanglements.

Now he had a hot woman, no sex and all the perils of potential future entanglements. True, he also had the beginnings of what looked like a beautiful business relationship.

He wasn’t sure how he felt about the trade-off.

Chloe walked into his cabin, her hair tumbling around her shoulders. She was wearing her reading glasses, something he found cute in a librarian-sexy way. If only she was wearing a plaid skirt and some saddle shoes.

He shook his head, dismissing the prurient picture his mind conjured. “What’s up?”

“Sorry. I just wanted to see if you’d gone over the brochure stuff,” she said. She was biting her lip. “And I know I booked those three cruises kind of close together, but, well, you know.”

“I know. We need the money,” he said, sighing. “Well, I didn’t have a life anyway.”

“Yeah, me neither,” she chimed in with a little sigh.

He instantly felt badly. It had been two weeks since their agreement and a full month since her disastrous near-wedding. That meant it had been three weeks since the last time he’d seen her naked.

Not that he was counting.

“So, anyway, the brochure,” he said, forcing himself to focus. “I still don’t know why we can’t use the ones we’ve got.”

He was sitting at his desk and he didn’t have another chair—space was at a premium in the ship, and he didn’t really have palatial quarters. Chloe sat at the edge of his bed, pulling out the notebook she always seemed to have on her. She put the end of the pen between her lips, nibbling thoughtfully.

It wasn’t supposed to be erotic, he knew that. Still, Chloe, on his bed, with something in her mouth.

Man, you have got to get laid or something. You’re losing it.

“Jack, you’re offering a four-star service, but these brochures look…well, two-star at best,” she said.

He winced. “Please, don’t spare my feelings. Just tell me what’s really on your mind.”

“I’m sorry, I know you worked hard on them,” she said. “But if I learned anything at the architectural firm, it’s appearances matter. Especially with big-money clients. That’s why the food I serve has all those ‘frilly touches’ you think are so girlie. It’s all about presentation,” she finished, her tone firm.

He sighed. “Yeah, well, that’s going to cost me some money, Chloe. And we sort of need the money right now, remember?”

She smiled. “I’ve got a friend from when I worked at the firm. She’s a designer, and she’s going to give us a discount. And if I can sweet-talk the printer who did my wedding invitations…”

He grimaced. The invitations she’d spent tons of money on for the wedding that never happened. How that fiancé of hers could sleep at night baffled him. “You’re probably right…hell, I trust your judgment more than my own most days. Why don’t you get me some pricing, and we’ll see how it goes,” he prevaricated.

She smiled at him, and suddenly he felt warm. Not sexy-warm, although he always had a low-grade fire burning whenever the woman was around. It was a different kind of warmth. A sort of glow. She looked at him as if he were a superhero. Which was stupid, considering he hadn’t really done anything but say he’d think about it. Still, it wasn’t as though he was going to ask her to stop looking at him that way.

She got up, then rubbed her lower back.

“You okay?” he asked, concerned.

“Just out of shape,” she said, although from what he could see, her shape was fine. From what he remembered, her shape was more than fine. Hell, her stamina more than matched his. “I’m not used to being on my feet this much, and between the cooking and the cleaning…”