Big Easy Secrets, page 4
He’d always been that way. In their field, Joker was a legend. He’d built a reputation for turning down highly lucrative jobs. He was mysterious and unpredictable. Which was part of the reason he’d been so successful over the years.
“I hope chasing after my money won’t interfere with any other projects you have.” Kinley smiled through the words, although she really didn’t mean them.
Jameson’s answering smile was pure humor. “No worries, cucciola. I can multitask.”
Indignation bubbled through her chest. “I’m no puppy.”
The twinkle in his pale green eyes irritated the hell out of her. The bastard was laughing at her.
“You should fire your Italian instructor.”
“I taught myself Italian, thank you very much.” Because she’d landed in a country without knowing the language and had needed to learn fast. She’d been pretty proud of her language skills. Until the deep roll of his chuckle scraped along her nerves.
“Then you need to brush up on your terms of endearment.”
A hot flush suffused her body, followed by a cold rush. Nope, she was not going there right now. “When can I have access to a computer? I need to get to work tracking my money.”
Slowly, Jameson shook his head.
Kinley’s eyebrows pulled together in a deep frown. “What do you mean, no?” There was no way this man had stranded her in the Gulf of Mexico without access to a computer.
“I mean, there’s no way I’m letting you touch my system. And if you’re honest and the roles were reversed, you wouldn’t let me near your equipment, either.”
Kinley opened her mouth to argue but snapped her lips tightly together. Because damn him, he was right. He was too smart and her system wasn’t just a patchwork of hardware cobbled together for access to the internet. Letting him get his sticky fingers on her equipment would give him the opportunity to dig into things she didn’t want him to dig into.
“I brought my own computer.” It wasn’t nearly as powerful as his system, but it would do in a pinch. “Just give me internet access.”
A single eyebrow rose in silent question. Yeah, she wouldn’t do that either. With their skill set, network access would be just as deadly. Crap.
“I’m not just going to sit here and do nothing, Joker.”
Jameson snagged a wineglass from the bar beside him. Reaching down, he ran the rough pads of his fingers over the center of her palm as he opened her fist. Placing the cool glass in her hand, he gently folded her fingers around it. Her hand, caught between the icy glass and the heat of his palm, wanted to tremble. But she refused to let it.
Bending over, Jameson looked straight into her eyes. A flutter of something rolled through her chest. Apprehension. Doubt. Certainly not interest. “It’s just for a day or two. I’m sure you can find something to entertain yourself with.”
Innuendo and heat flashed through his eyes. Was he really suggesting what she thought he was?
Part of her wanted to be pissed off at his audacity. But it was difficult to dredge up the emotion when her belly was melting and tingles of awareness crackled across her skin.
Never one to shy away from an issue, Kinley decided to confront him head-on. Raising an eyebrow of her own, she lounged against the railing, pursed her lips and cocked her head sideways. “Are you offering to be my boy toy?”
His laughter was genuine and bright. It lit up his face and made the butterflies in her belly beat their wings even faster. Her mouth tingled and the rest of her body hummed with a yearning she hadn’t felt in a very long time.
Such a pain in the ass that this man would be the one her libido would decide to want.
“No. I don’t trust you with my equipment, either my computers or my sensitive body parts.”
“What? You think I’d go praying mantis on you?”
The corners of his eyes crinkled even as he held up his hands. “I hope not? But we don’t like each other, so something tells me sex between us would be more of a fight than enjoyment.”
She wanted to argue with him—her body knew exactly what kind of enjoyment they could share—but realized that wouldn’t exactly help her. In fact, it would prove his point.
“Fine, you’re not going to entertain me with that gorgeous body of yours.” And she had no doubt it was stellar. “I’m just supposed to what, swim laps, read a book, play solitaire?”
“If you enjoy those things.” Rachel appeared in the entry to the lounge. She didn’t say anything, but Jameson acknowledged her with a flick of a single finger. With a nod, she melted away. “But for now, let’s start with dinner. Rachel is a phenomenal chef.”
She’d just bet the other woman was. Something told her Jameson didn’t bother with anything that wasn’t phenomenal.
* * *
Dinner was a production. Normally, he didn’t bother with pomp and circumstance when he was aboard. The staff had learned quickly that when he was on the Queen what he wanted was peace and quiet. To relax and escape.
While he loved what he did, he often worked on high-pressure situations. Kidnappings, wrongful convictions, corporate espionage and national security. Some provided him money—excellent money—others gave him personal satisfaction. All were important, or he wouldn’t take on the cases and clients. But they often left him carrying stress that he needed to relieve.
The formal dining area was adjacent to the main salon, decorated in shades of gray, white and pops of bloodred. What else would the Queen of Hearts be wearing?
Bright white light glowed from the hidden fixtures along the wall and beneath the built-in cabinetry and furniture. He rarely used the space. It was simply too formal for him. On the rare occasion Jameson bothered to come in here he’d often thought about redecorating to something more...him. But so far, he hadn’t bothered. The ship was huge and there were plenty of spaces he did use.
And he’d told the staff a long time ago that they should use the formal salon for their own purposes and meals.
Which could explain why Rachel had simply given him a smirk when he’d informed her that he and Kinley would be eating there tonight. She hadn’t said a word, but her expression spoke volumes.
Clearly, the staff assumed there was something between him and Kinley, which was fine. He didn’t really care what they thought. But it would make things easier if no one questioned why they were on board.
It also explained why Rachel had outdone herself with a seven-course meal, something he’d never asked for in his life. But he had to admit, the woman could cook. She was a classically trained chef and damn good at her job.
She’d just set dishes in front of them, perfectly piped cream between layers of flaky pastry, berry compote and topped with a glistening honey-and-raspberry glaze. Artful swirls decorated the plate and his mouth watered for the first bite.
“You’re looking at that dessert like a starving man. How is that possible? We’ve spent the past hour and a half eating delicious food.”
Kinley had been quiet for most of the meal. At first, he’d tried to pull her out into conversation, but her one-word answers had quickly clued him in that she wasn’t interested.
“Oh, now you want to talk and ask questions?”
Her grimace should have knocked some of the appeal off her gorgeous face. It didn’t. It simply made her look cute...and more approachable. She’d come on board with whatever was stuffed inside the single suitcase she’d carried with her. And yet somehow, she sat beside him, the picture of poise and elegance.
It wasn’t difficult to believe that Kinley belonged on the expensive yacht.
“No, really. You’re about to devour that thing in one bite, aren’t you?”
With a shrug, Jameson picked up his fork. “What can I say? I have a sweet tooth,” he said, as he shoveled in a huge bite. His eyes closed in absolute adoration. The flaky pastry crumbled in his mouth, giving a balance to the texture of the silky cream. The tartness of the berries cut the sweetness and he could swear there was a hint of citrus somewhere.
Opening his eyes, the first thing he saw was Kinley, staring at him. Her own gorgeous blue eyes devoured him, a mixture of stunned and fascinated. Her own fork, laden with a more modest bite of dessert, hung suspended in the air, tragically forgotten and ignored.
There was a part of him that was proud at leaving her speechless. Leaning forward, he took the opportunity to snag the treat right off her fork.
“Hey,” she exclaimed, yanking it out of his reach.
“Too slow.”
Shaking her head, she tucked her hand around her plate and inched farther down the table. “Mine.”
Tension and annoyance had been drifting off Kinley since she’d sat. The longer the meal, the more it became clear that she wasn’t thrilled to be sitting there with him.
His move, completely selfish and with no forethought, had cracked through the layers of those emotions. Her lips, delectable as they were, now curved with the tiniest hint of a smile.
Glaring over at him, she said, “I’m sure Rachel has more in the kitchen if your greed and gluttony are too much to ignore.”
“Galley.”
“What?”
“On board the ship it isn’t a kitchen. It’s a galley.”
That hint of a grin grew as she rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
God, that grin was...rare and tempting. It took everything he had not to lean forward to kiss her and claim a piece of it for himself.
Nope, not the move he should make. There was no doubt in his mind the minute he tried she’d ram a fist into his face.
Oh, there were sparks between them. Undeniably. He’d been intrigued by her for months. But they lived in different worlds. She was a nomad and he’d spent a long time developing the roots that had been jerked out from under him when he was a kid.
Not to mention her estranged brother was one of his good friends.
Oh, and she didn’t exactly like him.
So, those sparks...inconvenient. And unactionable.
Reaching behind him, Jameson snagged the bottle of wine tucked into a bucket of ice. Kinley had been nursing a single glass since they’d sat. Topping it off, he indicated she should drink.
The rest of the meal finished in silence, but it was no longer filled with tension. The air between them was...almost comfortable.
Until Eric appeared in the doorway to the salon. Crossing the plush carpet, he paused at Jameson’s shoulder and leaned over to whisper in his ear.
Frowning up at the other man, he responded. “Are you sure?”
With a nod, Eric stared at him with grave eyes. “Yes, sir.”
Just as he’d expected, Kinley couldn’t help herself but ask, “What’s going on?”
“Nothing for you to worry about.”
From the corner of his eye, he watched as pure anger rushed across Kinley’s face.
“I am not some weak girl you can dismiss, Jameson Neally. If there’s a problem I want to know about it. Has someone followed us?”
For a brief moment, he felt bad at the realization of her fear. “No, nothing like that.”
Stepping back, Eric clasped his hands behind him and waited until Jameson nodded his approval. “The ship has experienced an engine malfunction.”
Kinley’s eyes narrowed. “What does that mean? Were we sabotaged?”
“No. Normal wear and tear a ship like this occasionally experiences, despite our best efforts at routine maintenance. Our engineer has diagnosed the problem and ordered a part, but it will take several days to arrive and be brought out to us.”
“Several days?” Kinley stood up from her chair, half in and half out of it like she wanted to run. But there was nowhere to go.
Reaching over, Jameson laid a hand over hers. “We’re fine. We were planning to be out to sea for a day or two anyway.”
“That was your plan, but not mine. I need to find my money. The money you stole from me and lost. I can’t do that stranded on a boat in the middle of the ocean when you won’t let me near a computer or network.”
“Ship and gulf.”
“I’m sorry?”
“We’re on a ship, not a boat, and we’re in the Gulf of Mexico, not the ocean.”
Her eyes widened and beneath his own hand hers trembled. Jameson realized it wasn’t fear, but fury when fire and heat flashed across her expression.
“I want off this ship,” she emphasized the word, “now.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but that’s not possible. We’ve dropped our anchor and won’t be able to move until the part arrives and the engine is repaired.”
“Can’t someone come out to pick us up?”
Jameson looked over at Eric. “They could, but there’s no reason to.”
Her voice dipped low. “The reason is I want off.”
Jameson squeezed her hand in the hopes it might dispel the worry that lurked beneath the screen of her anger. “Kinley, this changes nothing.”
Her eyes narrowed even more as she yanked her hand away. “Let me understand, you’re trapping me here?”
If he was honest, he’d trapped her on the Queen the moment she stepped on board, but he wasn’t about to admit that to her.
“Hardly...we’re just delayed.”
Standing, she pressed her fists to the gleaming surface of the table and leaned in, inches from his face. Her anger burned. The evidence of it clear in her gleaming eyes.
Which made her quiet statement all the more concerning. “A gilded cage is still a cage, Jameson. You more than most should understand that.”
Four
There was something fishy about the exchange between Joker and the captain.
How does a twenty-five-million-dollar yacht break? Didn’t they have regular maintenance or something? The whole situation felt highly convenient.
Her mind had been working the problem since she’d walked away from dinner. Staring up at the ceiling of her stateroom, she’d expected that the unhappy circumstances and unfamiliar setting would keep her awake half the night. But apparently the gentle rocking of the ship had lulled her to sleep.
But her eyes had popped open this morning and her brain had started spinning again.
Her gut was telling her things weren’t right, but she had no proof. Nothing to substantiate the sensation, except instinct. The same instincts that had kept her safe for the past twelve years.
Really, longer than that. Kinley had grown up surrounded by liars and criminals. Self-preservation had developed a sixth sense for when someone was lying to her...and Jameson had been ringing all the warning bells.
What really pissed her off was how Jameson kept trying to control her life. He’d manipulated her by stealing her money, under the guise of protecting her. She didn’t need protection—she’d been taking care of herself for a long time—but definitely not his brand of protection.
If she’d wanted to be under someone’s thumb, always manipulated, ignored and lied to, she would have stayed with her parents.
The more she learned about Jameson, the more she saw him as a replica of them. Clearly, he was manipulative. He lived this clandestine, mysterious life, hiding who he truly was. Everything was a facade. Take the yacht for instance... The man had money, but until Kinley stepped foot on the ship, she wouldn’t have guessed it from the way he lived.
Good guys didn’t have to hide who they were.
Unfortunately, her body reacted in inconvenient ways whenever Jameson was close. Which irritated the hell out of her. For God’s sake, she should be able to control her reaction.
But maybe she could use it to her advantage.
Yes, there was chemistry between them. They were stuck on this yacht—which in and of itself pissed her off—and made it very difficult to avoid him. So she’d use the only advantage she had.
Kinley stared at the wardrobe, fully stocked with clothing that no doubt would perfectly fit her. How he’d managed to get all this on board amazed her. And, if forced to admit it, scared her a little.
For some perverse reason, her gaze was drawn to a tiny, bright blue bikini. Maybe it was the color; it reminded her of the Aegean Sea and a little island in the Cyclades. The thing was barely more than strings and triangles of cloth held together with bubble gum and dreams. Never in her life would she think to wear something like this in public. But they weren’t in public, were they? The gentle sway of the ship beneath her feet reminded her that she wasn’t surrounded by people who might gawk.
Sure, the staff was there, but she already knew they were too polite to comment or care what she wore. Or didn’t wear.
Contemplating last night, their dinner and the tense chemistry between them, Kinley thought, what the hell, and snatched the bikini from the hanger.
She almost changed her mind when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. So much of her olive skin was on display that she had to fight the urge to cover herself with her hands. Nope, she wasn’t going to do that.
Steeling her spine, Kinley hid the flash drive pendant she religiously wore, grabbed a towel from the stack in the closet and wound her way up the narrow staircase to the sundeck. The highest level of the ship, she could see the open water spread out in front of her. A pleasant breeze stirred the air and kept the sun from overheating the deck.
Dropping her towel on a lounge chair, Kinley didn’t even bother testing the water before jumping into the plunge pool. Cool waves lapped against her exposed skin, sending goose bumps erupting across her body.
The length wasn’t long enough to really swim or exercise, but it was deep enough to cover her head and cool off. Holding her breath, she stayed under until her lungs felt tight with the need for air. Bursting through the surface, she took in a huge gulp of oxygen, her eyes closed to the bright light. Sweeping her hair back, she tilted her face up.
