Читать книгу Killer Cruise - Laura Levine - Страница 12

Talk about your demoralizing experiences.

I wanted nothing more than to trot over to the Tiki Lounge and bolster my sagging ego with a frosty margarita, but it was only 11 A.M. and I simply could not justify glugging down tequila at that hour of the morning.

Besides, I needed to keep my brain cells perky for their upcoming bout with Samoa’s masterpiece.

So I trudged back to my cabin, where I found Prozac clawing on a cashmere sweater she’d dragged from my closet. Several pieces of my underwear were also scattered gaily on the cabin floor.

“I’m glad you’ve been having fun,” I snapped, picking up the mess. “I’ve been through utter hell.”

She scampered to my side and sniffed my ankles, then looked up at me with big green eyes that could mean only one thing:

So where are my snacks?

“Oh, for crying out loud, Pro, you ate enough ham this morning to feed an NFL quarterback. I’ll bring you something later.”

After scribbling a note to Samoa, asking him to pretty please bring me another pillow, I grabbed his manuscript and headed up to the pool deck. I found a spot in a secluded nook far from the frolicking crowds at the pool and settled down to do battle with Do Not Distub.

The less said about Samoa’s opus the better. Let’s just put it this way: I’d read better plots in my DVD manual. I spent the next few hours gritting my teeth in frustration, trying to decipher his minuscule scrawl.

All the while I could hear the happy shrieks of vacationers splashing in the pool.

For a mad instant, I considered tossing the whole ghastly mess overboard. But sanity prevailed and I slogged on, breaking only for a late lunch at the buffet (a heavenly roast beef panini, with just the weensiest chocolate chip cookie or three for dessert).

When at last my eyeballs were begging for mercy, I packed it in.

I was heading past the pool en route to my cabin when I heard someone call my name.

I turned and saw Emily Pritchard surrounded by her entourage: Kyle and his wife, Maggie; the formidable Ms. Nesbitt; and, of course, Adorable Robbie, who was looking particularly adorable in cutoffs and a sleeveless T-shirt.

With a jaunty wave, Emily beckoned me to join them.

As I made my way across the deck, I became aware of someone else in the Pritchard party. Cookie’s boyfriend, Graham, dashing as ever in his nautical blazer, was standing at Emily’s side. I hadn’t seen him at first, so engrossed had I been in Robbie’s cutoffs. But there he was, his hand resting most chummily on Emily’s elbow.

How odd. I didn’t think the hired dancers were allowed to fraternize with the passengers off the dance floor.

“Jaine, how lovely to see you.” Emily beamed as I approached.

“Is that a manuscript you’re carrying?” Nesbitt asked, catching sight of Samoa’s masterwork in my arms.

I nodded wearily. I preferred to think of it as recyclable waste, but I suppose technically it was a manuscript.

“How marvelous!” Emily gushed. “We get to see your new book before anybody else.”

Clearly she hadn’t glommed on to the fact that I was not a famous author.

“Actually, this isn’t my book. I’m editing it for a friend.”

“How exciting! Isn’t that exciting, everybody?”

“Oh, yes!” Maggie said, as Kyle stifled a yawn.

“Do Not Distub?” Nesbitt sniffed at the cover page as if it were a dead rat.

“And what have you guys been up to?” I asked, eager to change the subject.

“We’ve had such a fun day,” Emily said. “We’ve been busy shopping.”

Indeed, I looked down and saw they were all carrying shopping bags from the Holiday gift shop.

“I always like to treat everybody to little souvenirs of our cruises.”

“Really, you shouldn’t, Aunt Emily,” Maggie said. “You’re much too generous.”

“I’ll say,” Kyle snapped, darting a none-too-subtle glance at the shopping bag dangling from Graham’s wrist.

“Yes, my dear,” Graham said in his velvety British accent. “It was much appreciated—but most unnecessary.”

“It was my pleasure, Graham,” Emily said, beaming up at him.

Up to this point, I’d been avoiding eye contact with Robbie. After the way he’d ditched me last night, I was determined to play it cool. But now I couldn’t resist taking a peek at his face. And the minute I did, he hit me with his bad-boy grin.

Oh, rats. Why did he have to be so darn cute?

I stiffened my resolve to be cool and distant and unattainable.

But before I got a chance to give him the snub he so richly deserved, our peppy social director, Paige, got on the mike and announced that an exciting ice sculpture demonstration was about to begin.

Sure enough, I turned to see Anton seated at a table not far from us, with some ice picks and a big block of ice.

“Ooh, let’s watch!” Emily said, with childlike enthusiasm.

“I’m afraid I can’t, my dear,” Graham said. “I’ve got some important business matters to attend to.”

“What a pity.” Emily’s face fell.

“But I hope to see more of you later, sweet Emily.”

Then he took her liver-spotted hand in his and kissed it. Wow, this guy was Cary Grant and Hugh Grant rolled into one.

Emily stared after him, dreamy-eyed, as he walked off.

Kyle was staring after him, too, with the wary, calculating look of a pit bull whose turf has just been threatened.

“C’mon,” Ms. Nesbitt said, grabbing Emily’s elbow. “Let’s go see that ice sculpture.”

“Yes, let’s!” Maggie seconded, hustling us over to get a better view.

I tried to stay in the background, off Anton’s radarscope, but unfortunately he saw me in the crowd and waved.

I smiled weakly and waved back.

I have to admit, Anton lived up to his own hype.

He wielded his ice picks with dramatic flair, picking and chipping away with the deftness of a neurosurgeon. Oohs and ahs erupted from the crowd as a bust of George Washington gradually emerged from the ice.

He finished with a flourish, and the crowd broke out in applause. He was so proud of himself, I was surprised he wasn’t joining in.

It was then that I heard Robbie’s voice in my ear.

“So how’s it going?”

I turned to face him, and in spite of myself, I felt my heart do a two-step.

“You all set for Formal Night tonight?” he asked.

Oh, rats. I’d forgotten all about that. I still hadn’t rented an outfit.

“Maybe afterward,” he was saying, “we can go—”

I never did hear where Robbie wanted to go, because just then Anton, ignoring the people who’d gathered to chat with him, came barging between us.

Before I knew it, he had me cornered, his bright orange face just inches from mine. I watched helplessly as Robbie shrugged in defeat and backed away.

“So, Jaine,” Anton said, “when am I going to get to do your bust?”

Some other lifetime, mister.

“Seriously, doll, I’d love for us to get better acquainted.” He smiled his version of a sexy smile, exposing a row of tobacco-stained teeth. “How about we rendezvous at my cabin tonight and I’ll show you my instruments?”

Oh, wow. This guy was about as subtle as the bubonic plague.

“Sorry, Anton, I’m not interested.”

“C’mon, baby. All the ship’s employees fool around with each other. It’s a nautical tradition.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to carry on that proud tradition without me.”

“Whattsa matter? You married? No problemo. I am too. What happens on board stays on board.”

This said with a most nauseating leer.

“So how about it, sweetheart? You ready for a ride in my love machine?”

Oh, puh-leese. The only thing I was ready for was a barf bag.

“Sorry, Anton. Still not interested.”

“That’s okay, babe,” he said, eyeing me like a sirloin in a butcher’s case. “I like a challenge.”

On that ominous note, he slithered away.

Alone at last, I looked around for Robbie, but once more, he was gone with the wind.