Shell Game Page 4

  “And…” Frenchy looked to the burned ceiling grate and back. “Thank you.”

  This time Luke let himself grin, just a bit. He still had little faith in the emergency training of the kitchen staff, but he had a feeling that not much got past the man in charge now. Though a small consolation on a one-hundred-thousand-ton ship, at least Luke wouldn’t feel the need to sleep with one eye open.

  Since lunch had been so rudely interrupted, and most of the crowd were funneling their way downstairs to the main dining rooms, he chose the lesser-traveled path to the soda shop across from the upper pool deck. Careful to avoid the captain en route, Luke slipped inside and instantly felt transported back in time. He wouldn’t have been surprised in the least to see Richie from the retro TV show Happy Days come out to greet him. Even Bill Haley’s “Rock Around the Clock” played in the background. A stark contrast to the calypso music on deck or the Latin rhythms at the atrium bar.

  Taking in his options, he ordered a chili dog with the works. Across from the cashier, a row of glass windows looked down on the poolside activities. Luke opted for sliding onto a stool and chowing down while observing the masses from on high.

  Blaring instructions through a speaker system that made a megaphone sound like high definition, the cruise director called the guests to order.

  At least for the guy’s sake, Luke hoped the sound system was to blame for the quality of his voice and that the announcer’s name wasn’t really Insk from Minsk.

  The people at the outer edges of the deck slowly rose from their seats and circled in closer to center stage.

  Pulling out his copy of the day’s activities, Luke scrolled down to the current time to find out what he was watching. “World’s Sexiest Man Contest.” Roaring laughter burst through from deep in his gut.

  “Just wait, mate. It gets worse.” A familiar voice came from behind. The trainer from the fitness center took a seat beside him.

  “How is that?”

  “Ya have to see.”

  Insk lined up four women in deck chairs along the back wall by the end of the pool. Then he called for the contestants.

  Luke wasn’t sure how the group had been gathered, but each man strutted like an arrogant peacock. Short and firm and about seventy with a thick head of white hair, the first guy strolled past the women. “Silver Fox,” Luke muttered, assigning the old codger a call sign.

  Apparently the band or DJ had a sense of humor because “I’m Too Sexy” played loudly while the old geezer flexed and posed for each of the women.

  Next was a younger guy who had spent way too many hours at the bierhaus. That or he was due to give birth any week now. Comfortable in a swimsuit that barely covered what Mother Nature had given him, he gyrated and bucked, pausing briefly in front of each lady to the tune of “Macho Man.”

  Luke thought “Having My Baby” might have been more appropriate. “I see what you mean.”

  “Keep an eye on the old broad. They’re the ones ya have to look out for.”

  “Thanks.” Luke stuck out his hand. “Brooklyn.”

  The Aussie raised a brow and shook his hand. “Kyle.”

  Luke focused on the four judges. The “old broad” Kyle had referred to was none other than the lady constantly in search of her missing grandchild and very likely the head honcho of his trivia team. “What exactly am I looking for?”

  No sooner had the words fallen from his lips than a young buck, with tattoos covering more skin than not, ground and spun his way to the beat of “It’s Raining Men.” When he got to Granny, who was practically out of her seat with enthusiasm, he paused and bucked and…

  Luke leaned in for a better view. “Did she just—”

  “Pinch his arse? Righto. Last cruise some old bag grabbed the guy’s balls and had no mind to let go. Don’t let their age fool ya. These sheilas have no fun filters.”

  “Fun filters?”

  “I’ve had many a bruised backside. But ya learn not to turn your back on ’em, and when ya do—move bloody fast.” Kyle gathered his empty drink and dirty napkin onto the paper plate. “Got to bolt. Stay safe.”

  Curious, Luke kept his gaze on the old lady but shot Kyle a thumbs-up. This woman was something else. She’d hold up both hands and, curling her forefingers, would call to the better-built candidates. And if Luke wasn’t completely mistaken, he got the impression that the old bird had slipped a folded piece of paper into one gyrator’s waistband. Granny was definitely a firecracker.

  Chapter Five

  “My God, Nana.” Sharla tossed her e-reader onto the extra chair in the Leeward Lounge and waived a bartender over to their table. “I’ll have a piña colada, please.”

  “And I’ll have—”

  “She’ll have a cola.”

  Nana crossed her arms and glared at her granddaughter, but Sharla didn’t care. The last thing her grandmother needed now was liquid courage. Sharla, on the other hand, would probably have to drink a barrel of rum before she’d shake off the embarrassment. “Really, Nana. First you do a swan dive just to get a deck chair. Then you ignored the contest judges’ no touching rules and pinched Tattoo Man’s rear. But what were you thinking slipping a ten-dollar bill in the last contestant’s Speedo?” Maybe Sharla should have ordered a scotch.

  “Don’t forget my room number.”

  Sharla sucked in a breath and hoped her eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets. “You slipped him our cabin number?”

  Nana shrugged. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

  The waiter returned with their drinks, and Sharla took a long slurp from the straw. If she was lucky, she’d suffer permanent brain freeze.

  “Ready to play, ladies?” An older gentleman in plaid shorts, a flowered shirt, white socks and brown sandals sank into the nearest chair.

  Standard Florida-retiree uniform.

  Despite Nana’s earlier brazen antics, her cheeks flushed a pale pink, and her expression turned coy and bashful.

  Sharla blinked and gave the visitor a second look.

  “Sweetie, this is Herbie.” Nana gestured toward the man. “You remember I mentioned him.”

  Sharla forced a smile. Odds were he was a very nice man, but she still hadn’t recovered from the poolside escapades and moving on to a new beau for her grandmother wasn’t going to work until Sharla had had a stronger drink.

  “Your grandmother speaks of you with much love,” he said.

  A heartfelt smile overtook Sharla’s previous plastic grin. “The feeling is mutual.” And it was. She couldn’t imagine her world without her crazy grandmother. Well, maybe a slightly calmer world wasn’t too hard to picture.

  The empty chairs in the lounge slowly began to fill up. As the seats disappeared, newcomers joined forces with folks who had an extra chair or two. Four ladies—wearing red hats and purple bathing suit cover-ups on the other side of the grand piano—kept Sharla’s attention. She’d heard of the Red Hat Society but had never actually been anywhere among its members. Judging by the number of women running about donning red hats, they must be having a conference of some kind on board.

  Two of the ladies, laughing at nothing in particular, were likely close to Nana’s age. Another looked to be somewhere in the required age group to wear the signature millinery, but the last one didn’t look old enough to be a member, yet the floppy wide-brimmed red hat she wore said she was at least fifty. Tall, slim, with shapely legs and ample cleavage.

  Sharla should look so good now, never mind in another twenty years.

  “Excuse me.”

  A strong male voice dragged Sharla’s attention away from the table of laughing ladies.

  “You made it!” Nana sprang from her seat and nearly hopped over Herbie to sidle up next to the man.

  The voice may have caught Sharla’s attention, but seeing the Adonis from the gym stole her breath. Flat on his back, she’d had a general idea of his good-looking assets, but, on his feet, he was heart-stoppingly handsome. He looked to be close to six foot, with bro
ad shoulders, a stone wall of a chest and a Hollywood-trim waist. But the toned muscles on this man screamed Greek god, not movie star make-believe.

  “Herbie”—Nana linked an arm with the older man now standing at her side—“this is the young man I mentioned.”

  “Herbie Klein.” The older man stuck out his hand.

  “Luke Chapman. I’ll also answer to Brooklyn.”

  Herbie bit back a smile. “I understand you’re going to be our trivia secret weapon.”

  The corner of Luke’s lips curved up in a grin that lit up his face.

  Holy cow. Where was this man’s wife? And what was she doing letting him out loose on his own? Nana had been sticking ten-dollar bills down the wrong swim trunks.

  “I don’t know about that, sir.”

  “Herbie. Please.”

  “Herbie,” Luke repeated.

  “And this”—Nana elbowed Sharla in the rib cage—“is my granddaughter, Sharla.”

  Fine lines deepened in the corners of his eyes, making the blue centers sparkle.

  If anyone had told her that one of her grandmother’s strays would make her weak in the knees with just a smile, she would have laughed in their face. Peeling her tongue from the roof of her very dry mouth, Sharla stuck out her hand. “Hello.”

  “Is everyone ready?” A pert young brunette with her dark hair in a ponytail smiled at the crowd. “I’m Becky on your cruise director’s staff.” She rattled off instructions for how to play the game as representatives from each team stepped forward to get paper and pencil to participate.

  Delighted to have been saved from opening mouth and inserting foot, Sharla settled back in her seat.

  As Becky asked the first question, a couple hurried into the lounge and stood dead center. The redhead circled the room with her gaze, while her husband’s search stopped at the bar. The guy was either bored, indifferent or not terribly sharp.

  Sharla was betting on door number two.

  Unlike the thirsty husband, both men at Sharla’s table kept their eyes glued to the endowed redhead now moving toward them.

  “Could we join your team?”

  Sharla was convinced had the woman tipped half an inch closer, her boobs would have spilled out onto Luke’s lap. But Sharla had to give him credit. His eyes remained fixed on the buxom redhead’s face. Apparently his self-control matched his superior physical conditioning, because even Danny would have taken at least a small peek at the goodies offered.

  For a split second Nana frowned, then a bright smile slipped into place. “Of course. The more the merrier.”

  Nana took her trivia seriously. And she had certain rules. A second sheet of paper and pencil were required for notes, since no one could actually speak a response that a nearby team might overhear. Another piece of paper was required to cover the answer sheet. Just in case the hundred-year-old woman ten feet away had bionic eyes. And of course, in control of the official pencil, Nana had the last word on the correct answers.

  The bored husband kept trying to strike up a conversation with Herbie. Nana, having none of it, tapped her pencil and dragged both men into the game.

  It didn’t take long to see why Nana had been so enthused about the guy from the gym joining them. So far he’d been the only one to know that an aircraft carrier is the largest ship in a naval fleet, that Floyd Mayweather is the highest paid athlete in the world and that 5:00 p.m. is the traditional hour for a bullfight to begin.

  Sharla finally had a chance to contribute when the next trivia question wanted to know what was the more recognizable name for the chemical compound sildenafil citrate. To her surprise neither of the older men at the table came up with Viagra.

  When it came time to trade papers for scoring, there was only one question their team truly pulled a guess out of a hat for. What was Ed Sullivan’s wife’s name? Once that shot in the dark was added to their official answer sheet, Nana then scribbled the words Guys and Dolls across the paper for her team’s name and handed it over to the folks at the nearest table.

  The game had proven to be a good distraction for Sharla. Her heart rate had returned to normal, and saliva had returned to her mouth. Of course the second piña colada might have helped. As did keeping her gaze anywhere but on Luke Chapman.

  Waiting for Becky, the staff person, to begin the answer round, Nana pulled out her schedule. She wore her room card around her neck clipped to a blinged-out necklace that could start a fire on a sunny day. Tucked in the back of the plastic case holding the keycard, she kept the daily schedule. Highlighted, circled and checked often, the data was her vacation bible. Having already looked at the paper a hundred times today, Nana consulted the page one more time. Sharla couldn’t imagine what Nana expected to find that she hadn’t already seen.

  Paper in hand, Nana leaned forward. “Tell me, Luke, do you have plans for this evening at eight?”

  One brow rose high on his forehead, and a wide grin took over his face. He leaned in as well. “What did you have in mind, Sophia?”

  Even Big Red turned at Luke’s husky voice that warmed a girl from the inside out like a smooth aged whiskey.

  “Tonight’s music trivia is the eighties. I’d be delighted if you graced us with your presence again.”

  “Absolutely, Sophia.”

  “Good.” Nana gave one brisk nod and looked to Becky, ready to move on. Everyone anxious to finish the game.

  Except Sharla was pretty sure she was going to need a lot more liquid strength to get through two weeks of games while sitting next to Nana’s new best friend.

  For the first time since the trivia contest had started, Luke’s and Sharla’s gazes caught, and he smiled at her.

  Oh, yeah. Lots of liquid strength.

  Chapter Six

  Something wasn’t right. Luke felt it in his bones. The minute the redhead with the Double Ds had walked in, Herbie had grown stiff and serious. He’d made every effort to shake it off, to be cordial, but Luke could smell a rat.

  And he didn’t have to be a guru of observation to know Mr. Double D was no banker. Not the legal kind. Totally unconcerned with the trivia game, the man only showed a hint of social skills when the chance of any conversation with Herbie had flared. From what Luke could decipher, the man seemed quite charming. Reminded Luke of the snake oil salesmen of old.

  The pert brunette with the East London accent read the first correct response, and Sophia squealed with delight, marking a big X in front of the neighboring team’s answer. Sophia had been the one to insist that From Here to Eternity was the movie to win Frank Sinatra the coveted Academy Award.

  Luke had known the answer as well. But his information came more from a love of all trivia associated with The Godfather movies than to any interest in Frank Sinatra. Though the crooner did produce awfully good mood music.

  Sophia squealed again, rubbing her hands together. Her smile was so big and bright, she could put the Cheshire cat out of business.

  And Luke loved it. It had been a long time since the urge to smile had overtaken him. The last two and a half years had been deep and dark and dirty.

  By now Mrs. Double D and the granddaughter were building enthusiasm as well. The two women provided a great deal of contrast. The one as plastic as a credit card, the other as natural as a summer breeze. From his encounters with Sophia, he’d expected her granddaughter to be a geeky teen who loved ice cream and studied advanced-placement biology, but a fully grown brown-eyed woman had never crossed his mind.

  Mr. Double D was back to conversing with Herbie.

  While the two men had their heads drawn closer together, Sophia ignored their conversation, her eyes and ears only for the crew staff.

  A word here or there reached Luke. Resort. Yield. Profit. He waited for the last of the trivia answers to be shared, the corrected answer sheets to be traded back, Sophia to do a little hip jig in her seat and Sharla to do the same before sharing a hearty high-five with her grandmother. She had the same spunk as Sophia. His grin grew wider.

/>   Drawn out of their tête-à-tête by the hand slapping and laughter, Mr. Double D, whose name Luke had yet to learn, and Herbie joined in the celebration. Though Luke suspected the snake oil salesman was more enthused about his progress with Herbie than the key chain prizes Sophia had just happily collected.

  Giddy with winning, despite not having known Ed Sullivan’s wife was Sylvie, Sophia hugged each of the team members. Sharla hung on extra long to her grandmother before turning to the redhead, Herbie and then…him.

  For all of five seconds Sharla molded into him like a comfortable feather pillow. He’d barely gotten his arms around her waist when the redhead slid against him for her turn. An unexpected sense of loss overtook him as Sharla pulled away. Their gazes had locked a moment longer than they should have, and, for just a second, he thought she seemed equally stunned. In the brief time she’d held on to him, he’d felt he’d known her forever. Had come home. Not even the press of Mrs. Double D’s bought-and-paid-for superboobs against his chest could steal his thoughts away from Sharla.

  Earlier he’d automatically scanned her left hand, pleased to see it remained bare. Only slightly disappointed to now notice the understated set of wedding rings on her right hand. Once again he wondered what was this woman’s story. The feel of her—now seared in his memory—spiked his curiosity. What was it about this woman that had him wanting to learn all about her? And not just the things that would make her scream his name at night. Her favorite color. Her first kiss.

  “I’m going to try my luck in the casino before dinner.” Sophia latched the plastic cruise line key chain onto the sparkly lanyard hanging around her neck and, still sporting a broad smile, pushed to her feet. “Anyone else interested?”

  The redhead shook her head, and spreading her fingers wide, announced she had an appointment at the spa.

  No surprise there.

  “I’m going to find a nice quiet chair on the promenade and do a little reading.” Sharla scooped up a small colorful cloth pouch with a long strap and slung it over her shoulder. “Just don’t spend too much money on the slots, Nana.”