Page 26 of Love Overboard
And completely irrelevant.
Her heart was alive and well and pulsing away like a noisy, unwelcome alarm clock.
The cool breeze swirled, and a spicy scent wafted from the chili peppers hanging from the store’s doorjamb. Emily and Gerry stared out at the beach, watching Jon and Lacey from behind their open books. The couple scooted back and forth on the sand like a pair of lobsters doing a mating dance.
Emily slammed her novel on the table. “What do you suppose they’re saying?”
“Probably not much with words.” Gerry scribbled in her notebook. “But their body language is fascinating.”
“Are you plotting another book?” Emily propped her elbow on the table and rested her cheek against her palm. “You should finish the first one before you start something new.”
Gerry ignored her. The pen tip flew across the page. She scratched her nose, and a speck of ink smeared on her upper lip.
“Go ahead.” Emily flopped back on her chair and crossed her arms. “Keep writing. At least some kind of romance—albeit imaginary—will result from this failure.” The fingers of her right hand drummed against the tabletop. “What are we missing? Lacey likes him. I’m sure of it. Why is she fighting this so hard? I worry Jon will take no for an answer and stop trying.” She raised her gaze to the blue sky. “Lord, I’m stumped. I believe you brought Jon here for Lacey, and I’d like to help. But I don’t know how.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied the uncooperative couple on the beach. This called for an Alpha strike. She pulled out her phone and typed a list of things she wanted to tell the other two Shippers. The next operation required all hands on deck.
The sun dipped low in the sky as Fernando’s boat approached the shore. The water shimmered a pearly white in the early evening glow. He killed the motor, leaped over the side, and waded through the gentle waves toward the four waiting passengers.
Jon headed for the plastic table and squatted in front of Gerry. “Are you ready for another piggyback, Ms. Paroo?”
She pushed his shoulder. “I’m fully recovered. No sense in throwing your back out for an old woman. I can walk to the boat.”
Gerry gathered the gauzy fabric of her skirt and tied it in a knot above her knees. Emily rolled up her khaki pants legs. The two locked arms, and Lacey hovered behind them as they headed to the craft, her hands outstretched—prepared to catch anyone who stumbled.
She’d probably letmetake a nosedive and not lift a finger.
Jon’s feet sank lower in the wet sand as the crystal-clear water lapped around his toes. Fernando splashed to his side. He bent forward and swept his arm at the boat like a doorman at a fancy hotel.
“Was everything okay?” Jon asked.
“What?”
“Didn’t you have an emergency?”
“No.” The young man tilted his head. “Mrs. Emily asked me to leave and not come back for a few hours.”
Jon’s gaze swung to the older woman. She stood at the side of the boat, whispering with Gerry. It was a setup from the beginning, but with what intent? Even now, he didn’t buy Collins’s cockeyed theory they were involved in the drug smuggling. The matchmaking strings were so obvious. He hoped that’s all there was to it.
Better not tell Lacey about Fernando’s confession. No need to add more fuel to her paranoia fire. Of course, was it truly paranoia when she was 100 percent right? The Shippers were out to get them.
He should be upset. Their little scheme cost him valuable time away from the investigation. But the matchmakers’ interference got him something he’d lacked for two and a half years—answers. They weren’t the ones he wanted, but at least he knew where he stood.
Firmly in the friend zone.
That was fine. All the better. His brain listed the reasons this wasn’t the time for romance, but his eyes cut to the alluring blonde who stood facing away from him—a common sight these days. Jon kicked at the water surging around his feet.
He was tired of playing puppy. How many times did he have to taste rejection before he got the message? Still, every time he thought his feelings had ebbed, his heart washed right back to Lacey.
CHAPTER 11
FISH SKELETONS WITH PREHISTORIC-SIZEDteeth decorated the chalkboard ceiling of Hibachi Coast, the MSBuckingham’s Japanese restaurant. Multicolored glass ocean creatures hung on the walls. Their comedic pupils bulged at anyone who dared to look at them. Emily ignored the fanciful decorations as she and her fellow Shippers settled in at a booth for their once-a-week treat of the ship’s private dining options. She opened her binder and spread her notes on the table.
“Aw, baby.” Althea stared at the stacks of paper. “Can’t it wait till after dinner? I’m starving.”
“Just a short strategy meeting. Then we can order the food.”
“But the sushi’s calling my name.” Althea cast a longing glance at the bar, where a chef wrapped the fresh seaweed rolls in front of waiting diners.
