“Okay. I’ll come to your place this time.” He smiled. Not going into the field very often made him happy. He was a tech guy and former police detective. He’d done his time on the street. However, his knowledge of gems made him lead investigator for his case. If not for the ice, John Kajiyama, aka John Wang, would be sitting at a desk at Atlantic Coast Investigations in Florida right now. Instead, here he was, salivating over a stunning possible criminal.
He rose and followed her like a panting dog, waiting as she maneuvered the key card into the lock next door and flung the entrance open.
“See you in a few, John,” she said and slipped into the room. Her shiny taut calves highlighted by the sleek black heels disappeared from sight.
His cock pressed against his jockeys. Any more stimulation and he’d crest. Christ, if he was this turned on by the mere sight of boobs and ankles, how could he lead an investigation? How long since he’d been with a woman? Clearly, too long.
* * * *
Mary leaned against the door and took a deep breath. His rock-hard penis had bumped nicely against her hips. Was he attracted to her, or was it a coincidence? Of course, any straight guy probably got a hard on when a woman was plunked right on his lap. He could have taken the angry approach. Instead he’d been nice, let her get her bearings, and saved the chain of her purse when it would have been easier to snap it apart. Perhaps she should have a buddy for the cruise? A plan formed. To keep on track, she’d repulse the undesirables by claiming she was with John. He could do the same with her, and they’d go their separate ways at the end of the night.
The next day would be spent entirely at sea. She could gather a lot of intel for a variety of candidates. Late afternoon the following day, they’d dock at Kingston. Either she’d need to escape–shivers coursed over her at the thought that Conrad could be onboard or at the port–or she’d invite one of the lucky men to sight-see with her. A little romp among the banana plants sounded like a pleasant time. She dragged her luggage forward and placed the canvas and plastic on a twin mattress. About a foot of space was between the two beds. Small size–she bounced on the mattress of the other–but comfortable.
The square port window was dark. Stars splattered the night sky, giving wondrous illumination to all who glanced upon their glory. Love happened under the stars, didn’t it? She so wanted to have some connection to her baby’s father, instead of a wham, bam, thank you, sir. Well, fate had stepped right up and shattered that dream. Imitation love had taken several months to develop with Conrad and that relationship had bombed. Injected with a total stranger’s fluid by artificial insemination seemed cold and scientific. Phoenix had two students in her class who were brother and sister because the moms had used the same sperm donor. The teens hadn’t known that when they were making out in the parking lot of the Lyon’s Food Mart. It would be horrible to have one child who unknowingly fell in love with their brother or sister. Maybe the donor plan was the best alternative.
Somewhere in her bag, her cellphone rang. She unhooked the magnetic latch and dragged the tiny device into her palm.
Phoenix, the worrier. “Hi, just wanted to make sure you made it on board and wondering if you’ve run into anyone exciting yet.”
“Funny you should ask. I was looking for my cabin, a door opened and I steamrolled a guy in the room next to mine.” Mary unzipped her suitcase and began disassembling the contents.
“Way to go, girlfriend. Is he a viable candidate?”
“What? I want to know, too,” Jenn said, her voice coming from a distance.
“Just a second.” Phoenix repeated the story. “I’m going to put you on speaker phone in order for our addicted friend to hear.”
“I don’t think he meets the donor classification. Black hair, my height or an inch taller maybe, okay body. He’s a nice guy.” Her undies and sexy night garments went in the top drawer for easy access.
“I thought we weren’t going to rule out browns or blacks in hair color?” Kim asked.
“I’m not.”
“It’s because he’s short,” Jenn shouted.
“No, if I wore flats he’d be taller than me.”
“What are the problems then, bad DNA?” Kim asked.
“Nooo. I guess I’m not attracted to him.” Mary sat on the edge of the bed and glanced at the bedside clock. “Not to be rude, but I need to go. I promised John I’d buy him a drink.”
“No alcohol, Mary,” Kim said.
“Bye,” Mary disconnected and quickly hung up her limited wardrobe. The miniature dresser didn’t pose a problem, because when a girl anticipated a sudden exit, she packed light.
The luggage wouldn’t fit in the bottom of the cabinet, and considering the cabin was the size of her closet at home, she didn’t want it to take up space. The bag wouldn’t wedge sideways, lengthwise or vertically into the cupboard. Nothing worked. By now her hair had fallen from the loose bun at the nape of her neck, irritating her. She tucked the strand behind her ear as a firm rap sounded on the entrance.
Damn. She dragged the case to the connecting door and hung the strap over the handle, twisting the knob to make sure it was locked. Another rap, louder than the first, drew her attention. She ran and pulled the portal open. John stood outside.
“Hi, sorry, trying to squeeze the luggage in the closet. Didn’t work.” She cocked her head toward the large red rectangle dangling from the door knob. His gaze moved across her forehead, along her neck and down to her heaving chest. She resisted the urge to pull the material of her vest closed, preventing his perusal. As his brown-eyed glance met hers, his gaze darted around her face. Maybe her makeup was running down her cheeks. She did feel sticky. Stomach fluttering, she tossed a long strand of hair over her shoulder.
“I’ll get it to fit.” Instead of looking at the suitcase, his stare remained on her.
Why did she get a strong idea he wasn’t referring to the baggage? At the titillating thought, a tingle started in her lower abdomen. Sexy verbal innuendo was her favorite type of sparring.
“Okay, I need to freshen up a little.” Why the hell did her heart skip a beat? Watching him watch her, she missed the step up to the bathroom. Grabbing the handle, she awkwardly slipped inside. She’d tossed her cosmetic bag on the counter as she unpacked. If only she had music playing in the cabin to cover the noise. Instead, she flipped on the sink faucet, and then used the toilet. Upon flushing, the darn thing sounded like a noisy vacuum. She grimaced and dumped out the necessities to revive her face. No way would he not have heard that racket.
Wash, tone, lotion were automatic, like setting an alarm for work. She shut off the water. A quick application of brown eyeshadow and black liner required precision to draw out the almond shape of her eyes. Blush was a random, slap-dash thing for her. The berry-blast lipstick, however, had to be perfect and applied with care because she had cupid lips. Little peaks, directly under the bridge of her nose, had to be outlined or she’d have big red clown lips instead of little rosebuds. In addition, her bottom lip was bruised, so her usual gnawing hurt. She bent in half and brushed her hair. Upright again, she added a cloth coated rubber band, loosely knotted the hair at her nape and added another fastener to keep the curls in place.
Finished, she opened the door to find John sitting on the sofa, one leg braced on the other and an info flyer–apparently about the ship as Verbena Skylark was splashed across the first page–open on his lap.
He lifted his head. His eyelids went half-mast.
Her heart caught again. Maybe she was coming down with something. Lust came to mind. Could he be a potential donor after all?
“I liked your hair down better.” His gaze was hot, heating her even more. With a single flip, the magazine closed and fell onto the tiny coffee table.
She