Jack & Jilted (4 page)

She got up, rummaging in the drawers for some clothes. Unfortunately she’d packed for a honeymoon. Sexy lingerie wasn’t going to help here, and she felt silly pulling on her “cruise wear” simply to wander toward the galley and see if she could grab a snack. She pulled open one of the drawers she hadn’t packed, out of curiosity, and found two robes—obviously for the honeymooning couple. She pulled on some underwear and one of the robes and slipped on her canvas tennis shoes.

Cautiously she opened her door. It was quiet and dark in the hallway. She knew there was a crew of some sort, but she had no idea what their hours were. She didn’t even know if Jack was sleeping or what and she felt stupid waking him up with the intercom to ask him if it was okay if she raided the kitchen. At the same time, she doubted that she could just wander into a hotel’s kitchen at eleven o’clock at night—and the boat was basically a floating hotel, right?

She stood in the doll-size hallway, torn by uncertainty, when she heard low voices coming from behind a closed door. Jack had mentioned that was the galley, so she knocked softly. When they didn’t seem to hear her, she repeated the knock a little louder.

The voices stopped abruptly and the door swung toward her, revealing Jack’s face. “Oh, you’re up,” he said, sounding surprised. “Is everything okay? Do you need anything?”

“I’m fine,” she said immediately and then was promptly embarrassed by the loud yowl her stomach emitted.

“You’re hungry,” he replied, grinning. “Come on in.”

He opened the door wider, and she walked past him into a small room. There were two men already at the table, and they automatically stood up when they saw her. She smiled at the gentlemanly action, feeling hideously underdressed.

“This is my crew. Jose works the night shift—keeps us running if we’re not anchored, checks on the yacht.” He gestured to a shorter, Hispanic-looking man, who smiled and bowed slightly. “Ace, over in the corner, is our onboard mechanic and my day shift crew.” The man in the corner, a blonde, surfer-looking guy, smiled broadly and winked at her. “Guys, this is Chloe Winton, our charter passenger.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Chloe said, nodding to both of them and smiling in return.

“So…er, what can I get you?” Jack said, turning to the fridge.

Chloe shrugged. “Anything would be fine,” she said. “I don’t want you to have to wake the chef up or anything. Although I don’t suppose that there’s anything left from the dinner menu? I’m more hungry than I thought.”

“The dinner menu?” Jack said blankly, and to Chloe’s surprise, Jose burst out in a fit of coughing.

“We’ll leave you guys to it,” Ace said, pounding Jose on the back before ushering the man out. “Good night, Chloe.”

“Good night,” she replied, mystified as they quickly disappeared, broad grins on their faces.

“Well, no. Nothing was prepared for dinner,” Jack said, his gold-green eyes looking troubled. After a second, he sighed, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Chloe, I have to come clean with you on something.”

She blinked at him. She’d already had enough nasty, surprising revelations for one day. She almost cringed, waiting for it.

He opened the fridge. It was filled to overflowing with lots of savory-looking ingredients, although nothing prepared except pastries. “My chef, Kenneth, is an absolute dynamo. He’s four-star all the way. If I showed you the menu he had planned for this week, you’d weep.”

She waited for the punch line.

“And, much to my surprise and horror, he quit today. Just before you called me, actually.”

She stared at him, seeing the embarrassment practically scrawled across his handsome face. And then she burst out laughing.

He grinned, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck. “Glad you can see the humor in it,” he said, his voice rueful.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “It’s just…wow. Guess there was something in the water today, huh?”

He looked puzzled for a moment, then slowly grinned. “You mean, to cause people to bail without warning? I hadn’t really thought of it that way.”

“Of course,” she said, sobering, “you can always get a replacement pretty easily.” She felt her chin drop a little and she stared reflectively at the floor.

To her surprise, Jack nudged her chin back up with one finger. “Trust me, sweetie, so can you.”

She felt her skin heat under the intensity of his gaze. She looked away first, making a big show of being interested in the contents of the refrigerator. “You said he left a menu?” she asked and marveled at the breathless quality in her voice.

“Sure,” Jack said, rummaging around in one of the drawers. “Here we go.”

She glanced over the paper. Seared ahi tuna on a bed of field greens with a lime-cilantro dressing was supposed to have been the evening’s meal, she saw, served with chilled gazpacho soup. She quickly scanned the rest of the proposed menu. Raspberry-chipotle marinated ribs. Cannelloni. The menu was eclectic and mouthwatering, and in her current hungry state, it was like waving a red flag in front of a bull.

“I can cook for you,” Jack said. “Simpler stuff than what’s on that menu.”

She thought the offer was sweet and smiled at him gratefully. “There’s no need. I would cook, unless you’d rather I not use your kitchen?”

“Galley,” Jack corrected, the dimple back in full effect. She wondered if he realized how lethal those suckers were—and then realized abruptly that of course he knew. “And I’ll help you with the stove, since you need to pump the gas first. But otherwise, if you feel like cooking, by all means. Feel free, make yourself at home.”

“I was a short-order cook in college for a while at an Italian café and restaurant,” she said, smiling at the memory of it. “Hard work but a lot of fun. I haven’t thought of that in years.”

She then instructed him to turn on the gas range and she gathered the makings of the salad and ahi tuna. She quickly seared the tuna, which smelled very fresh and heavenly, and then quickly pulled together the salad.

Suddenly she heard another stomach-growling noise, only this time it wasn’t coming from her. She glanced at Jack in surprise.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “But that looks a hell of a lot better than my dinner.”

“What did you have?”

“Bowl of cereal,” he muttered, causing her to laugh again. “I got spoiled having Kenneth around. I’ll admit it. The guy wasn’t much of a sailor, but he loved being out on the ocean…and he could make meat loaf taste like a slice of heaven.”

“You know, he planned the meals for at least two people,” she said. “Why don’t you join me?”

Jack shifted his weight from one foot to another, crossing his arms. “I’m supposed to be your host,” he said. “I feel like a twerp, not only not having a gourmet chef for you but having you wait on me.”

“I love cooking,” she said as she quickly threw another tuna steak in the pan and seared it. “No problem whatsoever.” She then shot a quick, wicked grin over her shoulder. “Besides, I owe you for the massage—you knocked me out before I could tip you.”

She spread the salad greens, fixings and dressing over two white plates that she’d found and put the tuna steaks on top. She put the plates on the table.

“Wine?” Jack asked, reaching for glasses.

“I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” she said, and he poured two glasses of water instead. She sat down at the table, across from Jack. On a whim, she picked up her glass. “A toast. To getting away from it all.”

“Hear, hear,” he said, clinking her glass with his own. Absurdly, she felt better.

She dug into the meal as if she hadn’t eaten in days. After all that food at the reception, she wasn’t quite sure why she was so hungry. Maybe because she hadn’t really tasted the food then—she’d eaten mechanically, under duress.

“I take it you’re not having any seasickness issues,” Jack said. “Thank you, by the way. This is delicious.”

“No problem,” she replied. “And no seasickness. I think I’ve pretty much got my sea legs, too.”

“You’re a natural,” he said, smiling at her kindly. “You’ll have a great time this week. I know it.”

She smiled back, a little more unsteadily. “Well, it’s not exactly a vacation,” she corrected.

His smile slid. “Of course not. I didn’t mean that.”

“I know,” she said, feeling badly for even bringing it up. “It’s just…you were right—I need a place to get my head together. So I’m going to take the time and the peace and quiet and figure out what I need to do next.”

“That seems like a good idea,” he said, and she got the strange feeling he was just humoring her.

“What would you do?” she asked, curious.

“If what happened to you happened to me, you mean?” he said, after finishing off his tuna and greens. “Well, I’d be sailing away for a hell of a lot longer than a week, that’s for sure.”

She smirked, shaking her head. “Not if you couldn’t afford it.”

He shrugged. “I think I’d probably be drinking myself incoherent for the full week, then. Time enough to sort out details on the mainland. I’d probably feel hideously sorry for myself most of the time and I’d probably…I don’t know…do something stupid. Yell at the waves, scare the dolphins, stuff like that.”

“Would that help?” she asked.

“Of course not,” he scoffed. “But that’s me. I’m not really what anyone would call levelheaded.”

She laughed, and his responding grin was like sunlight. “I am levelheaded,” she admitted.

“Yeah. I got that.” He winked at her. “But I like you anyway.”

“I like you, too,” she said, then felt the heat of embarrassment flush her cheeks. You were going to be married today! What the hell are you doing? Are you flirting with this guy? “You’re very kind,” she explained.

He winced. “Kind. Well. That’s…nice.”

She obviously wasn’t going to win this one, no matter what she said. She quickly got up and started clearing the table—and froze when his hand closed around her wrist.

“I’m kidding,” he said, and his voice was soft and, she had to admit, kind. “You’re easy to be kind to, and with everything you’ve gone through…I think you’re amazing.”

She held her breath, inexplicably.

“Amazing enough that I’m not going to have you cook for me and do the dishes,” he said, taking the plates she was holding. “My mama raised me better than that.”

He surprised yet another laugh out of her.

“Why don’t you go on back to your cabin?” he asked. “I’ve got it from here, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

She nodded, heading for the hallway. She paused in the doorway. “Thanks, Jack,” she said.

He shrugged. “My pleasure.”

When he turned back to the sink, starting to scrub, she smiled to herself. A nice guy and a getaway. This was just what she needed. Everything was going to be fine.

She made it back to her own cabin before she started to cry.

AT NINE O’CLOCK THE next morning, Jack prepped the breakfast tray and slowly made his way to Chloe’s cabin. At least the pastries were already taken care of, he thought, again mentally wishing Kenneth hadn’t chosen this particular charter voyage to quit. Still, it was easy, and he didn’t want Chloe to whip up breakfast, as well as dinner.

She was turning into a really nice lady and a great charter passenger. If he could only get over the niggling guilt—and his growing infatuation—this could be a pleasant cruise.

He knocked on the door, hoping that it wasn’t too early. They’d had dinner at eleven o’clock at night, but he got the feeling she was a morning person. “Chloe?”

He didn’t hear anything for a long minute and was about to turn around and head for the galley when he finally heard her respond, “Yes?” in a muffled voice.

“It’s Jack,” he said. “I brought continental breakfast, if you’re interested.”

Another long pause, and he was starting to feel more and more badly about this idea, when finally she opened her door. “Thanks,” she said, reaching for the tray.

He noticed immediately that her eyes were red and slightly puffy. She’d been crying. “Oh, man,” he said. “Are you all right?”

He followed her, watching as she set the tray down on the bed. “No. I’m not all right,” she said, and tears crawled down her pale cheeks.

Okay, Einstein…how did you want to handle this one? You’re the one that got her here.

“Want to talk about it?”

“No. Yes.” She shook her head, then rubbed at her temples with her fingers. “I don’t know.”

He took the carafe of coffee and poured her a cup, which she took, sending him a smile of gratitude. She sighed as she took a nice long sip.

“There you go. That’ll clear your head a bit,” he said, rubbing at the back of his neck absently with one hand. He had problems of his own that he had enough trouble with—and he’d certainly never been in the kind of trouble she was facing. He’d only lived with one woman, and that had been a consummate disaster. He certainly hadn’t gotten anywhere near the old ball-and-chain act.

“Thanks,” she said.

She was wearing the robe, and he realized she looked as she had the night before—only more rumpled, her hair tumbled in sexy, crazy waves all over the place. She also wasn’t wearing makeup, which made her look less guarded and far more vulnerable. It made him want to smooth the tears off her cheeks with his fingertips, maybe pull her onto his lap and hug her, assure her that everything would be all right.