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Sex-starved lunatic that she was, she actually moved her hand away to let him take over the task. For a nanosecond.
“Wait.” She slapped her hand back on the half-formed knot, dismayed to find his fingers already there. And she was already turned on. Her legs that had been shaking from the performance quivered a little more. Just from this man’s proximity. Amazing.
“What?” His voice was too close. He was too close.
Rita reminded herself she was not the impulsive sister. She was the rock. The stabilizer in her family since she’d pulled her first babysitting gig when she’d been eight and Jayne seven. Rita prided herself on being the only Frazer female not driven by her hormones.
Although in this man’s case that seemed hard to remember.
“I can get it. And I don’t even know you, so I have no intention of letting you dress me.”
He slid his hand out from under hers, although he didn’t remove it altogether. Instead, the warmth of his fingers drifted fleetingly along her shoulder underneath her hair for a moment as she finished tying her shirt into place. The touch was so light she could almost think she’d imagined it.
“I’m Harrison Masters and I run a resort called Masters Inn on the outskirts of Naples.”
“Rita Frazer.” She found herself extending her hand to shake his, even though she didn’t normally fraternize with passengers. But maybe just this once she deserved a little reward for her efforts since she’d gone above and beyond duty by dancing Jayne’s number. She hadn’t even been able to stick around to meet with the Roman Cruise Lines executives to ensure they were pleased with her costumes.
“Nice to meet you, Rita.” His smile created crinkles around his endlessly blue eyes. His hand engulfed hers, the warmth of his fingers stroking the heel of her palm, the sensitive inside of her wrist where her pulse throbbed with awareness. “I hope you don’t mind me following up on our connection during your show.”
“Umm.” She backed up against the rail as an older couple shuffled past them. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.”
“I think you know exactly what I mean.” He leaned against the rail while the ship cruised easily through open water, crossing his legs at the ankle as if he had all night. “I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the only one engaged in the long, hot looks out there.”
She hesitated, knowing she could hardly deny her unusual behavior. “Sorry about all the long, hot looks.”
“Don’t be sorry on my account. I’m a gentleman and all, and I’ll leave now if I misinterpreted the staring. But I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be disappointed.”
“I was staring at you. But not for the reason you probably thought.”
“Meaning you didn’t hope I’d come backstage to proposition you?” He shook his head, his broad shoulders slumping just a bit. “Damned if my dating skills aren’t getting rusty.”
She remembered him peeling the label off his beer bottle before she came out onstage and felt a twinge of empathy. If he’d given her a hard-sell pitch to have a drink with him, she could have blown him off in a heartbeat. But she hated to think she’d led him on.
“I didn’t mean to give you the wrong impression.”And God knows, she’d thought about jumping him the moment she laid eyes on him. “I just got into a bit of a pickle with the whole dancing thing and I needed a focus—”
“No need to explain.” He held up his hand to halt her, a flash of regret in those gorgeous blue eyes of his. “It’s not your fault and I’m just going to get out of your way so you can—”
“Wait.” Rita’s heart pounded with the need to explain. Or maybe she just didn’t want to let him go. After the day she’d had, Harrison Masters seemed like a lifeline, a rare opportunity to enjoy herself for a few stolen hours since she probably wouldn’t have any luck tracking down the partying newlyweds until dawn at the earliest. Maybe she could forget about being practical just this once. “On second thought, a man with rusty dating skills might be just my speed. You want to get a drink?”
* * *
TWO HOURS LATER, Harrison guided Rita toward the uppermost deck of the ship under a fat full moon and had to admit maybe his dating savvy wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. At the very least, he was right to follow the attraction to see where it led because he’d had more fun getting to know her over drinks tonight than he’d ever had in a crowded bar.
“I never date,” Rita blurted as they strolled side by side around the running track on the small, nearly vacant deck.
“Never?” Harrison had discovered speaking her mind was part of her unusual charm, a part he appreciated greatly since he’d never been much for decoding the complicated thought processes employed by women. “I’m positive that’s not because of a lack of offers. Your line of work must bring you a lot of attention.”
“Not exactly.” She slowed down as they reached the forward curve of the rail where they could see six other larger decks sprawled out below them.
From their perch they could see conga dancing around the pool, a teen disco party on another deck and an Irish pub night around one of the other outdoor bars where revelers all wore shiny green plastic leprechaun hats.
Her hedging answer made him wary to press further. “I totally get it if you don’t want to talk about your love life. I’m just glad to be here with you, Rita, because I don’t take much time off to hang out and relax. I’ve had a great time tonight.”
Rita looked too good to contemplate with only a couple of inches separating them. She tossed her thick red curls over her shoulder, releasing the apple scent of her shampoo. She flicked her fingernail gently against her wineglass, creating a soft ringing sound.
“It’s not that. We just got to talking about so many other things downstairs, I forgot to explain to you—” She stopped herself. “I never even told you about the staring thing onstage, either, did I? I got a little nervous before I went out and I thought it would help calm me down if I had a focus point.”
“I was your focus point?” He settled at the rail next to her, enjoying the way their hideaway isolated them while giving them a view of so much of the ship. “And just what is a focus point, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“I think it’s a meditation aid or something. My mom told me she used one to help get her through childbirth after the doctor told her Valium wasn’t an option, so I guess I adopted it for other painful experiences. I’m not even really a showgirl. But I was covering for someone.” She shrugged, a flirtatious grin playing about her fuchsia painted lips. “Worked like a charm for me.”
Her brown eyes glided over him, the bold stare at odds with her light words. Only an idiot wouldn’t make a move after a night that couldn’t get much more romantic. Then again, why rush something great when he was enjoying every second in her company? He wasn’t twenty years old.
“It worked damn well for me, too. That costume you wore—” he’d be seeing rhinestones in his dreams for the rest of his life “—I’ve never seen anything like it. You’d never know you weren’t supposed to be onstage. From where I was sitting, you looked like you were born to do high kicks.”
“You liked the outfit?” For some reason, the notion seemed to really please her.
“I’m pretty sure I’ll never forget it.”
“I made it.” She finished off the last of her wine and set the glass at her feet. “I’m the ship seamstress but that kind of sewing doesn’t really scratch the creative itch, so I created a lot of the costumes for the show tonight.”
Intrigued by this newly exposed facet of Rita, Harrison figured there would be no time like the present to reveal he wasn’t a resort manager. But was it so much to ask to have one perfect night in his life? One date that wasn’t overshadowed by his work the way so many other dates had been?
“I’m no sewing expert, but I don’t think I need to be to guess you must be talented.” Reaching to skim her bare arm with his fingers he settled his hand on her shoulder and simply savored the feel of her.
“Thank you.” She shrugged, but somehow the movement seemed to bring her closer. Had he stepped nearer or had she? “For the compliment and for—” she waved her hand vaguely “—this. Tonight. It’s been fun.”
Even though he only touched a few square inches of her smooth flesh, Harrison could feel her heart pounding, could sense the hot rush of blood through her veins. He would have never guessed he could deduce a woman’s attraction so keenly, but he felt hers in every pore of his flesh.
Almost simultaneously he realized he hadn’t been this tuned in to his ex-girlfriend—Sonia. God, he had deserved to be given the boot. But he wouldn’t let past regrets rob him now.
In fact, he welcomed the chance to think about something other than the past few months. Not that any red-blooded man could do much thinking at the moment. Cupping Rita’s bare shoulder in his palm, he made up his mind to seize the moment.
“Trust me, the pleasure has been all mine.” Leaning close, he watched the way her tongue ran round the rim of her lips and his throat went dry.
Without a single thought to practicality, he slanted his mouth over hers and gave her the kiss he’d been thinking about all night.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_fbf29c31-35b5-5456-b8aa-fb128df5b149)
JAYNE MANSFIELD FRAZER HAD never believed in luck, preferring to think life handed out plenty of opportunities for those smart enough to make something of them.
So she could hardly blame a run of bad luck now, when her fiancé for all of twelve hours failed to show for their appointed rendezvous outside St. Kitts’ “Island Dreams” gift shop, which just so happened to double as a wedding chapel for eager—or stupidly impulsive—couples.
No, Jayne couldn’t blame anything or anyone but herself for the farce of her plan to elope with Horatio. Even when it started to rain—big, fat earnest drops that meant a serious tropical downpour was on the way—she refused to whine and curse her fate. She tucked deeper under the overhang of the store’s sheltered front porch, her shoulder scraping a blinking neon swordfish mounted on one wall, thinking there wasn’t anyone around to whine to anyway. The whole tiny tourist town shut down once the Venus pulled out of the harbor, taking all of its spendthrift passengers with it and leaving Jayne no place to go tonight.
Nope. She was certain she’d figure out something. Find some hint of opportunity to turn this watery night from hell around and help her get back to the boat before it hit Barbados. Or before her sister hunted her down and kicked Jayne’s tail from one end of the island to the other.
But as she stepped off the protected wooden porch of Island Dreams to get a better look at the small assortment of St. Kitts storefronts for any sign of life, two things happened which convinced Jayne to rethink her stance on bad luck.
Turning on her heel to size up her situation, she snapped off her four-inch stiletto on a brand-new pair of shoes Rita had simultaneously declared divinely gorgeous and a colossal waste of cash. Rain streamed down Jayne’s skin, plastering her silk sundress to a body which—she now recalled—was completely commando since she’d thought she’d be engaging in nonstop monkey sex right after the ceremony. And she slowly realized the only place of business still open and within walking distance housed the one man she never wanted to see again.
Unfortunately, she wasn’t thinking of Horatio. Because while some women might never want to lay eyes on the creep who ditched her in front of a gift shop that doubled as a wedding chapel, Jayne would be all too glad to find Horatio Aldo Garcia and wring his worthless neck with her own—wet—hands.
The man Jayne Frazer didn’t ever want to see again was the proprietor of a dive bar at the far end of this stretch of tourist traps, and he also happened to be the only living man Jayne had ever wasted tears over. A man who had provided her with the hottest sex ever to melt a woman’s knees before proposing three months after they first met on the Venus, planning out their lives together before she’d even caught her breath.
She’d tried to stall him, but the man in question—a big-deal New York corporate type before purchasing the bar and retiring at thirty-five—drove a hard bargain with an all-or-nothing price tag. So, because Jayne had no plans to settle down, the sex god of her dreams had sailed back into the sunset nine months ago.
Now, limping through the warm February downpour into Emmett MacNeil’s bar after all this time seemed to be her only hope of finding shelter before she either caught pneumonia, or washed out to sea. Instead of Emmett hearing rumors through the St. Kitts grapevine that his former lover had gotten married on a romantic whim—and she couldn’t deny the appealing scenario had occurred to her when she agreed to marry Horatio here—now Emmett would see his former lover looking like a drowned rat, complete with the stage makeup she’d nervously applied under Rita’s watchful eye ten minutes before escaping the cruise ship dripping down her cheeks. So much for her grand plan to flaunt her happy bliss under Emmett’s nose to prove his high-handed ultimatums and heart-stomping exit from her life hadn’t fazed her one damn bit.
If ever there had been an argument for the existence of bad luck, this would be it.
Cursing the lack of cabs or buses—hell, she’d settle for a rickshaw—Jayne hobbled through the haze of sheeting rain and steam rising off the ground toward the Last Chance Bar, her existing heel sinking into the muck of the washed-out street with every step. Although even if there had been cabs to take her to a hotel on the island, Jayne would bet her last ten dollars that Horatio hadn’t bothered to make reservations any more than he’d bothered to follow through on the wedding date.
In fact, thinking back, he’d probably only proposed yesterday in a last-ditch effort to get in her pants, and when she hadn’t fallen into his arms then and there, he’d promptly forgotten about all their plans. Horatio hadn’t taken her pledge of celibacy seriously when they first met six months ago, but Jayne meant it when she told him she wanted to be a born-again virgin. She’d given herself away too cheaply the first time when she’d lost it at sixteen in a semimutual romp with one of her mother’s boyfriends.
Definitely not the best way for a girl to lose her innocence, especially since the experience had been all tangled up with guilt at going behind her mother’s back because she’d been mad at Margie that day for—But she wasn’t going to think about that anymore, was she?
Anyway, after ten years of taking sex way too lightly, Jayne had decided to make a change. Hence, her vow of celibacy six months ago.
Number one probable cause for Horatio’s bogus proposal.
She’d worked herself into a full-blown hissy fit by the time she arrived at the little establishment Emmett was rumored to have bought from the island family who had built it. Jayne hadn’t even gone out of her way to find out gossip about Emmett after their breakup, but the crew members who took shore leave here came back from island layovers full of news and word traveled fast when a bar changed hands at one of the boat’s primary stops.
Jayne never told anyone—not even Rita—about the incredible night she and Emmett had shared on the beach in St. Kitts during his cruise. She’d told herself she wasn’t the marrying kind and hadn’t looked back.
Which, of course, called to mind her thwarted attempt to elope with Horatio. What made her say yes to a man with as much live-for-the-moment attitude as her, when she’d turned down a heartfelt offer from a sex god who took his responsibilities as seriously as a woman’s pleasure? Funny how the answer bitch-slapped her in the face now that she’d been stood up. Maybe deep down she’d known all along that “forever” with Horatio wouldn’t be a super-binding agreement.
And wasn’t this a fine time for an epiphany? Apparently a tropical downpour could wash away even the most persistent of self-delusions.
Swallowing old wounds, Jayne refused to let them stand in the way of getting off this godforsaken island and back to the Venus. If Rita had taught her anything in the past twenty-six years, it was that you made your own luck.
She straightened her sodden dress, noticing with a wince her outfit had turned completely transparent, and teetered up the stairs to the aptly named Last Chance Bar. Facing her old lover today would take industrial-strength chutzpah. But never let it be said that Jayne Frazer couldn’t pull off a hell of a good show.
Yanking off her shoes, she tossed them both in a trash can outside the front entrance before tugging open the door.
The scent of cigars and polished wood wafted over her as she stepped into an establishment gone utterly quiet now that the rush of cruise ship patrons had vacated the island for the day. Huge brass ceiling fans whirred quietly overhead in the dim interior, stirring the breeze drifting in from a wall of windows left slightly open on the far side of the bar. A bit of water dripped on the hardwood floor, but no one seemed to notice since the place was completely empty.
Maybe her luck was turning?
Jayne scanned the bar for signs of a pay phone so she could call for a car to take her to the nearest hotel, wondering if she could be in and out of the Last Chance without anyone being the wiser. She peered down a darkened corridor off of one wall but found only a couple of restrooms.
“Can I help you?” A brusque feminine voice from behind caused her to jump.
Turning, she came face-to-face with a lean brunette dressed in a tank top and shorts, a yellow bandanna wrapped around the back half of her head, a burning cigar still perched in her fingers.
Definitely not Emmett MacNeil. Thank God for small favors. Maybe this gorgeous woman with the great legs and golden skin was his bartender, treating herself to a smoke after fending off advances from drunken revelers half the day.
“I missed the cruise ship earlier. Do you have a phone I could use to make some arrangements?” In the silence that followed, the woman eyed Jayne with a wary gaze while her dress dripped audibly on the floor. “Sorry about the outfit. I’ll mop up behind myself, I promise.”
“You’re a passenger on the Venus?” The woman took a drag on her cigar and tipped her head to the side to exhale. Clearly she didn’t believe for a minute that Jayne had booked passage on one of the Caribbean’s pricy luxury liners.
“Actually, I work on the boat.” No need for subterfuge. Jayne took a page from Rita’s book and decided to be as direct as possible so she could get out of here before Emmett put in an appearance. “I’m Rita, a seamstress with the ship’s costume department.”
Okay, so maybe she still needed a little subterfuge. She didn’t want Emmett to get wind of who’d really been in his place today.
The brunette balanced her cigar in a dish on the shiny surface of the wooden bar before thrusting out her hand. “Claudia MacNeil, proprietor of the Last Chance. Pleased to meet you.”
Shock froze Jayne’s hands to her side.
Who knows how much time passed while she stared dumbly at this gorgeous creature who was…probably not Emmett’s sister since he’d once told her he didn’t have any siblings.
“Claudia MacNeil?” If she was going to have a brain malfunction over the idea of Emmett possibly being married, she might as well be sure she’d heard properly.
Belatedly, she remembered to shake the woman’s hand, surprised by how warm and alive Claudia’s skin seemed, while Jayne suddenly felt very cold.
“That’s right, sugar.” The woman retrieved her cigar and took another puff as she pulled out a bar stool. “You just have a seat while I get you a phone. Do you think maybe you spent too much time outside today? You seem like you might have a touch of sunstroke.”
“I’ve got it, Claudia.” A masculine voice rolled through the bar, low and authoritative.
A voice Jayne hadn’t forgotten.
She cast a sideways glance toward an open arch in the back that seemed to lead to an outdoor patio. Emmett MacNeil, the only man ever to come within spitting distance of breaking her heart, stood framed in the door. His gaze remained fixed on the woman who shared his name.
“Thanks. You’ll close up for me, won’t you, love?” The brunette swept past Jayne to meet Emmett in the breezeway, her long fingers patting his face with definite familiarity, her body invading his personal space so far there could only be intimacy between them. “I’ve got to go help my dad move some boxes.”
The impact of seeing Emmett now—with a woman who couldn’t possibly be a blood relation—threatened to level her. She hadn’t wanted him or his ring, hadn’t wanted this life he’d offered that sounded ordinary and boring compared to the glamorous dreams she’d had for herself just a year ago. So why did she feel like a very big bubble had burst?
Leaving her very soggy and more than a little sad.
She took in Emmett’s rough-hewn features, thick dark eyebrows and coal-black hair as he nodded at Claudia and received her kiss on the cheek.
“Bye, Rita.” Claudia gave a jaunty little wave over her shoulder, her yellow bandanna fluttering in the breeze stirred by the ceiling fans. “Nice meeting you, doll, and good luck getting back to your ship!”
Jayne forced a smile that probably only amounted to a fractional lift of one corner of her lips. This was sooo much worse than bad. She’d mark this day on her calendar as the one performance she’d ever flopped.
“Rita?” Emmett’s eyebrows lifted in curious amusement as Claudia disappeared outside, and any semblance of feeling sorry for herself vanished like money on payday.
Summoning her best showgirl posture, Jayne lifted her chin and flounced her way to the bar.
“It’s an alias in my new undercover work, doll. And as long as you’re here, I’ll take a gin and tonic on the rocks with lime. And could you make it quick?” She glanced at her watch gone cloudy from moisture under the glass. Peering back at him, she narrowed her eyes to convey precisely the right amount of hauteur. “I’m in a hurry.”
* * *
HARRISON’S KISS MADE Rita dizzy in the best possible way. She wanted to lose herself in that kiss, to cling to this sexy, gorgeous man for dear life and simply revel in the pure pleasure of the moment. Arching up on her toes, she allowed herself a more firm hold—just for a little longer.
She’d never been an impulsive person before, but then she’d never had to literally step into her sister’s shoes. What if she was turning into Jayne in some sort of Freaky Friday switcheroo? On the plus side, if that were the case, she wouldn’t have to sweat this whole moonlight encounter. She’d simply do whatever felt good, the way Jayne had her whole life.
And Rita had to admit, Harrison’s fingers drifting up her shoulder to the crook of her neck was feeling incredibly good right now.
