“Fruit juices, rum, apricot brandy, and a cherry,” Ryan said.
“I’ll take a Zombie,” John answered and clicked on his Blackberry to read a text, but watched Mary.
Mary leaned farther on the counter and whispered into Ryan’s ear. He grinned as if her closeness was an extreme tip. John had to agree. Her lips touching his ear would be well worth more than any cash reward.
“Orgeat syrup?”
She nodded.
“Okay then, one Zombie and one Mai Tai.” Ryan set a tall glass and a coconut cup on the counter. Mary quizzed the guy about his family and life style. Was this job his living, as in life’s goal, or just a break from existence?
Ryan didn’t pause in his drink preparations as he answered her laundry list of questions. He was clearly interested in her as a woman, not just for the tips. John didn’t listen to all of her questions, but what he did overhear made him curious about her odd interrogation. Maybe small talk wasn’t part of her nature, as she told Ryan her aunt had provided the cruise and then passed away from a massive heart attack. As far as John knew, she’d told a lie. If she was trying find a method to sell the diamonds, her technique was weird and off course.
Ryan went into his family’s history as he plopped the ugly brown mug, complete with a yellow umbrella, beside John. With a half-smile, he set a highball glass with an orchid and pineapple slice on the lip in front of Mary.
She took a sip. “Umm, this is good. I can taste the almonds and orange flower water. What did you call it?”
“Orgeat syrup, but it’s not nearly as sweet as you, Mary.” The beverage aficionado’s voice was as sweet as the syrupy drink.
Her thirty-carat smile came into play, and despite the pleasant buzz from the Zombie, John wanted to barf. He swiveled around to evaluate the other passengers and the staff, hoping to spot Waterman or Peabody and get this gig over with before he made more of a fool of himself. Some couples danced in the taped-off area near the pool, but many women simply stood, swaying to the music. A few glanced his way, so he nodded in acknowledgment.
Mary dug through her large handbag and drew out her phone. A moment later, she lined up a shot. John glanced at Ryan, who had no problem posing, and then rolled his eyes.
What Goes Around Comes Around jived from the three member band as a tall gangly blond man approached Mary from the back.
The thin guy swallowed and his Adam’s apple, the size of a small Washington, moved up and down in his throat. “May I have this dance?”
Mary glanced at John. He shrugged. Her gaze shifted to the bartender, but he’d moved to the other end. “Sure, I’d like to dance.”
She let him take her arm and lead her to the other side of the pool. Her movements were like her personality, varied, expressive and interesting. A slow version of Have Mercy by The Mighty Diamonds started and Adam’s apple guy took her loosely into his arms. A gentle sway of her hips, although not touching his, drew many glances from the men at the bar. The rhythm of the music in conjunction with the ship’s movement showcased her in a lazy, seductive mode. Man was made to suffer as the lyrics indicated, and without exception, John’s jeans tightened at his crotch. He felt like a teen with his first Playboy. He had to get control over his physiological impulses.
Her wrists and arms were exceptionally well defined. As a jewelry designer, she used her muscles: arms, wrists and fingers, but John wouldn’t have noticed until she raised her beautiful limbs into the air, tracing graceful movements with her hands.
“Christ,” he muttered, and without looking reached to the side and clutched his drink. A sip proved the beverage was Mary’s, surprising him. The rum was missing–she was drinking a virgin Mai Tai. Why would she go to a bar, pretend to be drinking, but chose not to imbibe? Maybe she wanted to be in control, minimize the chance she could let information slip about the heist to anyone. The lady was a mystery, and he would thoroughly enjoy unfolding her secrets and making all of the amalgams come together.
“Hi, my name’s Wanda,” a woman said, titillating his ear drums with her sultry voice.
He glanced at her bleached-blond, piled high hair, tan circa 1980 and spandex top that barely covered her solid breasts. Yeah, right. Not in a million years, even if he were desperate.
“John.” He nodded and turned his focus to Mary. The band ended the song.
Wanda’s skirt slid noisily together as she leaned. Her gaudy red mouth touched his ear. “I’m very wicked, if you know what I mean.”
John wasn’t taking his gaze from Mary as her hips swayed in time to the music. She strode toward him. Her eyes sparkled as she drew closer and reached around his back to snag her liquor free drink.
“I see you’ve a new friend.” She held out her free hand. “Mary.”
“Wanda,” she stage whispered into John’s ear and resituated on the stool. Her skirt rode up her thighs to a nearly obscene level as she crossed her legs. Her smile matched the monkey face on the tiki bar pole. She held aloft a shot glass filled with brown liquid.
Mary dropped her arm and placed her drink on a cocktail napkin on the bamboo bar.
“Diamonds,” John hissed.
“What’d you say?” Wanda shouted.
A snort, loud enough to be heard over the drums, came from Mary before she wrapped her arm around his shoulder. Her purse bumped against his back. She kissed the side of his lips and slipped her hand under his polo. “Wanda, sorry, but John’s my guy, and I don’t share.”
In the moment, John closed his eyes to readjust and get his control back. His heart snapped against his rib cage, adding to his lust misery.
Adam’s apple said, “Mary, here you go, Zombie, just for you.”
“Oh, Kyle, I’m sorry, but I’m exhausted so I’m heading out. Here, Wanda, a fresh Zombie, and I’d like you to meet Kyle. He’s a self-made merchandizing millionaire. His story is sooo fascinating.”
John jumped off the stool and swiveled it around for Kyle to sit. Two seconds later, John had Mary’s wrist, tugging her toward the exit. A glance proved Wanda’s hands were testing the merchandise. The musicians sang Marley’s No Woman, No Cry.
“Don’t worry, John, everything’s going to be all right,” Mary sang in a Jamaican accent.
His pulse pounded as hard as the waves beating the side of the ship, and arousal spiraled through him, flushing his skin with heat.
Arms entwined, they strolled into the hallway. A group waited at the elevator for the doors to open. His throat dried, he couldn’t swallow. Was she planning on going to another bar? Age had caught up with him; almost forty was too old to chase after a twenty-nine-year-old bombshell. Not for the first time in the past hour, he wished for his sweet unobtrusive data-gathering desk job.
“How old are you, John?”
Could she read his thoughts? “Thirty-nine.”
“So you got hit on by your first cougar.” The corridor was blessedly quiet the farther away from the pool they got. “I didn’t think they’d migrate down from the Forever Lounge on the bow of the twelfth deck this early in the cruise.” The ding of the elevator arriving disrupted the silence.
“Hardly hit on by a cougar, since I’m not a teen. Do you know where all of the bars are located?”
“Yes, thanks to my friend, Jenn.” Mary stood in front of the elevators, but got her key card out of her bag and slid a glance at her watch.
“She designed the ship?” He shifted to her other side, as if to continue down the hallway.
“No, but she wanted me to know where all the hot spots were. You’ll need