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Man Overboard
Karen Leabo
What Paige Did on Her Vacation… Prim and proper Paige Stovall knew that Harrison Powell was after something… and it certainly wasn't her body! After all, Paige was just a small-town gal on a big-time vacation, not the type that a debonair, carefree bachelor would find appealing. Still, she wouldn't kick Harrison out of her bedroom - if he ever decided to come in… .Harrison was after something, all right. The suave private investigator was searching for some stolen goods, and he was convinced Paige had the loot! The only way he could think of to get near her was to butter her up with loving words and longing glances. Then he made his biggest mistake - he fell for her… even though he was lying to her.
Man Overboard
Karen Leabo
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Contents
One (#uf11b370f-9141-570f-ae9a-0e16cafacf65)
Two (#u5b261221-d3b4-53cb-80d9-ea9d7ce1e495)
Three (#u6c130bd3-73ee-57c5-aa23-c3a8b6077278)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
One
Harrison Powell leaned against the railing of the Caribbean Mermaid’s Lido Deck, perusing the stream of passengers boarding below him. His gaze stopped on a tall, slender woman with a short cap of platinum blond hair. “There she is, in the red dress,” he told the man standing beside him.
The other man, James Blair, peered at the woman through binoculars. He issued a low whistle. “That’s her, looking sharp as ever. I can’t believe she’s fifty-eight years old. I thought she was more like forty-five.”
“A face lift never hurts,” Harrison said. His investigation into Aurora Cheevers’s background had uncovered numerous interesting facts about her in addition to the cosmetic surgery. She’d been married and divorced four times; she was addicted to playing the Florida Lottery; and she had a twenty-seven-year-old daughter, Paige, who was even prettier than her mother, though in a much more subtle way.
The most fascinating fact about Aurora, however, was that her extravagant life-style far exceeded her income. Which lent credence to his theory that she was the Caribbean Mermaid’s jewel thief, the one he’d been hired to catch before any adverse publicity could get out.
“Would you stop staring at Aurora through those binoculars?” Harrison said, scowling at James, the ship’s security director. A lot of pressure had been put on James to put an end to the daring thefts, which was why he’d hired Harrison.
“She’s worth staring at, even if she is old enough to be my mother,” James replied in a distracted tone. “Nice legs. You’ll have some competition, I guarantee.”
Harrison grimaced at the reminder of the plan he and James had agreed on. Aurora had a known penchant for younger men. Harrison intended to take advantage of that fact, playing the ardent suitor in order to stay close to her. If he couldn’t catch her in the act, he intended to get inside her cabin and find conclusive evidence that she was the thief he sought.
James had wanted to simply wait for a theft to occur, then search Aurora’s cabin. The ship’s captain could authorize it. But the captain was adamant about protecting his passengers’ privacy. He would not move against Aurora until he saw compelling evidence indicating she was the culprit. It was up to Harrison to provide that evidence.
The role of suitor wasn’t one he looked forward to. His work usually involved behind-the-scenes investigation for the large security firm he worked for, not undercover jobs. But sometimes he didn’t have a choice in which jobs he accepted. This was one of those times.
A younger woman standing next to Aurora caught Harrison’s attention. He couldn’t tell much from this distance, but...no, wait a minute. She did look familiar—petite and shapely, auburn hair that hung thick and rich past her shoulders, a generous mouth.
“Give me those binoculars,” he said, nearly jerking James’s head off as he made a grab for the glasses while the strap was still around the other man’s neck. The moment he observed the magnified image of the woman, his suspicions were confirmed. “That’s Aurora’s daughter, Paige Stovall. What’s she doing here? I thought Aurora always traveled alone.”
“She does. I didn’t know she had a daughter.”
“That’s why you hired me.”
“Are you sure that’s her?”
“I’m sure,” Harrison answered grimly. He’d only seen her once, from a distance, during the two weeks he’d had Aurora under surveillance. But he’d seen enough of Paige to know she was the sort of woman who made his knees go weak, not to mention any good intentions he might have.
Green eyes, freckles and old-fashioned curves. The combination was lethal to his libido.
James reclaimed his binoculars. “She doesn’t look much like her mother, but she’s not bad, either. Damn. Do you think this will foul things up? Aurora might not want to risk stealing jewelry with her daughter around.”
“I’ll just have to keep the daughter conveniently out of the way, somehow.”
“I could distract her.”
The suggestive note in James’s voice set Harrison’s teeth on edge. He appraised the man anew. James was the sort a lot of women went for. He wasn’t a large man, but he was blond and pretty-boy handsome, clean-cut without even the shadow of a beard. He might be able to turn Paige’s head.
“No, James, forget it. Acting a role is a lot trickier than it sounds. I don’t want either woman’s suspicions to be even mildly aroused.”
“Who says I’d be acting?” James countered, again peering toward the boarding passengers. “Blondes are more my style, but this chick is tolerable. And it’s not suspicions I’d like to arouse.”
Harrison closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. “James, this might be our only chance to catch Aurora Cheevers. Do not, I repeat, do not, screw this up.”
He studied Paige once more. The wind molded her pistachio green skirt to her shapely legs and teased her auburn curls. Holding her hair away from her face with one hand, she laughed at something her mother said.
Harrison’s mouth went dry. Tolerable? Paige was undeniably gorgeous, yet she carried an air of innocence about her that was endlessly appealing to Harrison. Too bad his job was to entrap her mother and send her to jail.
* * *
Paige Stovall hated every square inch of the Caribbean Mermaid before the ship had even cleared the Miami dock. She couldn’t tolerate a lot of sun, she wasn’t much good at shuffleboard, and the idea of Las Vegas-style shows made her long for her own bed and a good book.
And then there was the seasickness.
“Did you take your motion sickness pills?” Aurora asked.
“Yes, Mother.”
“Paige,” Aurora huffed, “don’t call me that. I don’t want anyone to know I’m old enough to have a twenty-seven-year-old daughter. For this week I’m not a day over forty-five, and you’re my niece.”
Paige could only shake her head as she hung her new clothes in the surprisingly roomy closet of their first-class suite. She had to admit their quarters were more luxurious than she would have guessed possible aboard a ship. They even had a small veranda.
Her mother’s room was on the other side of a connecting door. She’d tried to get Aurora to share a single cabin, but Aurora had ruled that out immediately. What if one of them had a guest? she’d discreetly pointed out.
That’s just what Paige was worried about. Aurora was definitely on the prowl—husband hunting again. Every time she went on a cruise, she came home married, or nearly so. Paige was determined her mother was not going to hook up with another loser.
Aurora eyed her daughter’s simple green skirt and cotton print blouse, then pursed her lips disapprovingly. “You’re not going to the cocktail party like that, are you?”
“What’s wrong with this?” Paige asked defensively.
“Well, nothing, if you’re teaching school. But this is a cruise. Liven up, girl! Put on one of those cute outfits I bought for you. First impressions are essential. You want to make an impact during the first official cruise function, start carving out your territory.” As she spoke, she pawed through Paige’s closet.
Paige wondered what Aurora meant by carving out territory.
“Now this—this is perfect,” Aurora said, pulling from the closet a crisp, white shorts outfit trimmed in navy blue piping. “I have a little navy straw hat that’ll go perfectly. Wait right here.” She thrust the outfit at Paige and disappeared through the connecting door.
With a sigh, Paige began undressing. This was a familiar scene. Aurora was always trying to turn her daughter into a clothes horse, and it never worked out. With her short stature and curvy figure, Paige simply wasn’t the high-fashion type. Whenever she took Aurora’s advice, she ended up looking like an overdressed doll instead of a sophisticated woman. But Aurora simply refused to understand that Paige’s personal style was quite different from her mother’s.
Well, what did it matter? Maybe if Aurora spent the next seven days dressing Paige and telling her how to behave on a cruise, she would be too busy to meet and fall in love with some freeloading bum.
Aurora had a real talent for picking the most inappropriate men to marry. The only exception to that rule was Aurora’s first husband, Paige’s father. He was the one who’d convinced Paige to brave the hated cruise ship in order to keep her mother out of matrimonial trouble. Bobby Stovall had bailed Aurora out of more than one disastrous marriage and continued to support her financially, although his legal obligation to do so had ended long ago. He was still genuinely fond of her—but he’d made it clear that if she married again, he would cut her off for good.
Paige didn’t want that. Aurora needed Bobby, although she would never admit it.
Fifteen minutes later, feeling rather foolish in the hat Aurora had insisted she wear, Paige walked with her mother onto the Lido Deck, where a lavish buffet of fresh fruit, cheese and crackers awaited them. A smiling waiter thrust a glass of champagne into Paige’s hand. Since champagne always gave her a headache, she set the full glass on the first empty tray she saw.
“Come on, let’s get in line for the food,” Aurora said as she surveyed the milling crowd with a practiced eye. Then, under her breath, she added, “Gawd, is there anyone here under seventy?”
There did seem to be a preponderance of silver hair and canes among the Caribbean Mermaid’s passengers, but no shortage of male hormones, if the stares Aurora drew were any indication. Even in her clever new outfit, Paige felt like a plain brown duck next to her mother.
It had always been like that.
The two women found a table and sat down with their plates of fresh fruit. Aurora nibbled at a melon wedge disinterestedly as she continued to eye the crowd. “Where are all the good-looking men?”
“What about that one over there?” Paige said, nodding toward a distinguished, sixtyish-looking man with a head of thick, silver hair and a healthy tan. He looked pretty respectable.
“Oh, that’s Doc Waller,” Aurora said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “He’s a widower. I’ve met him on several cruises. He’s quite a nice gentleman, but...too old for me. They’re all too old. I hope this cruise doesn’t turn out to be a total waste of—wait a minute!” She grew very still, and her sharp blue eyes stared intently at some point in the distance. “Would you look at that?” she whispered.
“What?” Paige asked, squinting in the same direction. Then she saw him, and she wondered how they’d missed him before. Standing a good head taller than most of the people around him, he possessed the sort of lean, hard good looks one might expect to see on a man driving a race car or climbing a mountain. His hair, a rich, dark brown with slight silvering at the temples, was longer than conservative fashion dictated, and the wind rippled it like a woman’s fingers would. His impossibly wide shoulders stretched the confines of the cotton print shirt he wore, and his legs appeared too muscular, too powerful, for his tame, white twill shorts.
He was easily the best-looking man Paige had seen in months. Years, maybe. Unfortunately, there was a comely dark-haired woman clinging to his arm.
He was talking to another man, one of comparable age—late thirties, Paige guessed—and nice looking, but not in the same league as the tall, dark-haired one.
“Not bad, eh?” Aurora commented from the side of her mouth. “And there are two of them.”
“Mother! Aside from the fact that they’re both young enough to be your—”
“Bite your tongue,” Aurora whispered. “And stop calling me Mother.”
“All right, Aurora. But you talk like those two men are a couple of ripe plums we can just pick from a tree. What makes you think either of them will have the slightest interest in us?”
“Instinct, my dear,” Aurora purred. “And besides, I don’t see much competition.”
“You don’t see the large-breasted brunette in the halter top, breathing into the taller man’s ear?” Paige asked dryly.
“Oh, her. She’s too young to hold his interest for long. Now, a man like that, he no doubt appreciates a woman with a little sophistication, one who’s been around the block.”
“How about one who’s been around the world a couple of times?” Paige murmured.
“What?”
“Nothing. Oh, Lord, they’re coming this way.” Paige quickly pretended interest in her strawberries.
“Well, of course they’re coming this way. I gave them my look.”
“What look?”
“The one that says, ‘You interest me.’ Not too bold. Just a brief holding of eye contact, between one and two seconds. Oh, nuts, that bosomy brunette waylaid them again.”
Paige looked up. Her gaze immediately caught and held with the dark-haired man’s—one second, two seconds, three, four...
“Psst! Paige, that’s long enough,” Aurora hissed.
Paige reluctantly broke eye contact. “What?” she asked, feeling a little dazed. His eyes were dark brown, just like his hair. Even from this distance she could easily lose herself in those velvety brown depths.
“The look you’re giving him is saying a lot more than you want it to, I’m afraid. Watch it.”
“Watch what?”
Aurora threw up her hands. “How in the hell did I raise such an innocent daughter?”
“Just because I don’t play games with my eyes doesn’t mean I’m innocent,” Paige pointed out. “Anyway, what’s wrong with a little innocence?”
“It’s no fun, that’s what’s wrong.”
“Well, I may not be the most worldly woman, but at least I don’t get married at the drop of a hat.” The unfortunate words were out of Paige’s mouth before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted her pettiness. For all her seeming worldly sophistication, Aurora really was the naive one. Despite her checkered past filled with less-than-honorable men, she still would believe anything a handsome man told her. She had never developed that hard edge of cynicism so common among women of her age and circumstances.
“I may be divorced four times, but I’ve fallen in love and married four times, too,” Aurora said quietly. “And I wouldn’t trade those experiences for anything. There is nothing more glorious than falling in love, even if you know it’s not going to last. And you, my dear, are going to be a dried-up prune by the time you’re thirty if you don’t find yourself a man.” She downed the last of her champagne in one gulp and banged her glass on the table so hard that Paige jumped.
“I’m sorry, Moth—I mean, Aurora. That was an ugly and hurtful thing I said, and I didn’t mean it.”
Aurora wiped her mouth delicately with her napkin. “And you’re a long way from being a prune,” she conceded gracefully. “If only you’d loosen up a little...”
“I’ll try. I promise.” And maybe she really would. That man with the brown eyes could certainly inspire her to try. Of course, that was probably just her neglected hormones talking. Her love life could definitely use some shoring up. It wasn’t that she didn’t want a man in her life. She just didn’t seem to communicate well with the opposite sex, at least not on a romantic wavelength. Most men tended to treat her like someone’s kid sister.
“Mind if we sit down?” a voice beside her asked.
Paige almost swallowed whole the strawberry she’d just popped into her mouth. He was here, Mr. Gorgeous, sans the brunette. He stared at her with those warm brown eyes, his gaze checking her out in a most unbrotherly way, roaming from the top of her head to her waist and back up, lingering on her full breasts. Her nipples tightened reflexively, and she could only hope they didn’t show.
Her face grew warm as she struggled for something clever and sophisticated to say.
