Jack & Jilted Read Online Free Page B

into the small drawers and stowed the bag under the bed. Then she grabbed a book—the romance that she’d purchased to while away the hours in the sun while Gerald fished or whatever. She realized within ten pages that she didn’t want to read someone else’s love story. A murder mystery might’ve been more the thing.
    Restless, she wanted to pace, but there wasn’t enough room, and she wasn’t sure enough of her “sea legs” to brave the deck. She didn’t feel queasy, which was good. But she did feel tense. No, tense was too mild a word. She felt compressed, as if she’d been vacuum-sealed into a body two sizes too small for her.
    By the CDs, there was a brochure, just like the one Gerald had shown her when he’d described the cruise to her. She opened it, reading the copy:
    “Welcome to the Rascal. Our honeymoon cruises are created with the happy couple in mind.”
    Not this time, she thought bitterly.
    “While on board, feel free to make our ship your home. Wander the decks, ask questions of the crew. Our private chef prepares your meals. Our onboard masseuse is happy to provide for your relaxation. And our maid service will ensure that you have nothing to do during this time except focus on your enjoyment and each other.”
    She frowned. It wasn’t very well written. She’d have done it differently, she thought. And for something advertised as four-star, the brochure itself could use jazzing up.
    She bit her lip. She was morphing into “business mode” as Gerald called it, although he usually said it admiringly. He loved her practicality. At least, he’d said he did.
    The tension increased a little. If this kept up, she’d be a foot shorter by morning and probably as dense as lead. She needed to relax.
    Tentatively she hit the intercom button.
    “Captain here, Chloe. What can I do for you?”
    She swallowed hard. “I know it’s a bit late—”
    “Nonsense. It’s only—what—almost eight o’clock. Are you, er, hungry?”
    “No, no,” she said. After eating out of guilt at the reception, she doubted she’d be hungry again for hours, possibly days. “But I am really stressed.”
    “A walk on deck maybe?” he suggested. “Nothing like moonlight and the sea to soothe a troubled mind.”
    “It’s my body that’s causing more of the problem right now,” she said, rubbing at her neck, which felt as if it were trapped in a vise. “I was wondering, do you think you could send the masseuse to my room?”
    There was a pause. “Er…”
    “I don’t mean to be a bother,” she said, “but in the brochure…”
    “No, no, of course,” he said. “I’ll, er, have the masseuse there in a minute.”
    “Thank you,” she said and released the intercom button.
    There, she thought. She was on an adventure. She was coping.
    She was regrouping.

2
    IT FIGURED. THE first thing she’d ask for would be one of the four-star amenities that he could no longer provide. Jack grimaced as he rummaged through what was once Helen’s cabin, the tiny berth that was next to where Kenneth used to stay—and no doubt part of the reason they got together, Jack realized. The yacht really wasn’t that big. He found some almond massage oil and two clean towels.
    He’d promised Chloe a good time, a relaxing time. And he was going to do exactly that—even if it wasn’t quite what she was expecting.
    He took a deep breath, armed with his massage accoutrements, and knocked on her cabin door.
    “Come on in,” she called.
    He opened the door and then stood in the doorway, stunned.
    She was lying on the bed facedown, wearing nothing but a sheet.
    “Uh,” he said slowly, feeling most of the blood drain out of every part of his body—except one part, and frankly that part did not need to be part of the massage-giving experience. “I guess you’ve had massages before,” he finally added inanely.
    Her eyes went wide and her face went pale. She started to sit up, revealing a lot of her breasts before she realized