Page 27 of Revenge Honeymoon

Who knew her bestie would be so thrilled for a go at the prize wheel?

Sylvia took a deep breath, made eye contact with everyone in the room, and shouted into the mic, “Ruby and Emily!”

The trivia player couples burst into applause. Max jumped up and whooped. Ruby clapped her hands together with glee.

Emily shoved the lump of embarrassment in her throat as far down as possible with multiple swallows, deep breaths, and a self-affirming internal mantra that everything would be okay.

Because it would be. Everyone in the room probably had already forgotten the answer to question eleven. The visual of Emily in the throes of loud passion probably disappeared from their cruise-relaxed brains the minute the glorious, colorful, prize-filled wheel rolled center stage with its fake gold accents glinting under the lights. Prizes of every size and value whirring by with the flick of a wrist surely supplanted sex fantasies about lesbians in bed, right? Or maybe only zaftig Emily in bed. Naked. And...well...and...

She maybe hyperventilated a wee bit at that moment.

“Let’s hope Emily can keep her—uh—excitement to herself, right audience?” Sylvia gave a big exaggerated wink and then smiled broadly as the two women stepped forward to claim their spin.

The audience guffawed.

Emily cringed and wished she had a paper bag to slow her breathing. What if she went down right here in the casino? Did they have gurneys on cruise ships? Doctors? How did they handle a woman who had a panic attack because of her answer to a trivia question?

Ruby yanked her friend toward the wheel.

If only Emily could run away and hide in their balcony cabin on the starboard side, grab the box of exotic chocolates that had come as part of their Honeymoon Package, and watch Sylvia the Cruise Director ramble on about the features of the cruise ship on their in-room tv screen. Instead, she had to give a wan smile in response to Sylvia’s joke at her expense and pretend it didn’t mortify her. She had to slow her breathing to stop the dizziness that crept up on her. She had to stop being so damned self-conscious about her sex life. Why did it bother her so much? Some women might love for the world to know they’re a screamer—a hypersonic, minutes-long screamer, heard through the walls of apartments and townhouses alike.

“Who wants to spin?” Sylvia hovered over the two women and widened her eyes to saucer-like size.

“Go ahead, Rubes.” Emily nudged the former bride toward the wheel.

Her beautiful bestie approached the wheel as if she’d finally made it to the top of Everest after weeks of effort and the help of accommodating Sherpas. “Oh, can I?”

“It’s all yours.” Emily’s heart swelled with sisterly sympathy for her friend. If she could give Ruby these kinds of moments on the cruise, it was all worth it. Who cared about personal embarrassments? Really, didn’t Ruby experience the worst embarrassment of her life being left at the altar? A beautiful, sweet, kind hottie like Ruby did not deserve that. She deserved repeated spins on the prize wheel.

Ruby reached up as high as she could and spun it like they’d seen the contestants do onThe Price is Rightover summer breaks when they were girls.

The crowd cheered.

Max smiled broadly and clapped louder than anyone else.

“What will it land on?” Sylvia speculated. “We have so many good prizes on there.”

The wheel clicked and clicked and clicked.

After a minute of spinning, it finally began to slow.

Click. Pause. Click. Pause. Click.

“Ruby and Emily, you have won—”

The audience gasped as one voice.

Chapter8

Hallway Encounter

“AFree Boudoir Photo Session!” Sylvia clapped her hands. “Congratulations, ladies. You can collect your prize at the Guest Services counter on Deck Three. Just hand them this card.” The cruise director produced a bright orange business card with ‘Prize’ printed on one side and ‘Sexy Boudoir Photos’ on the back.

Emily gave Max a stunned look. Was he aware his services were part of the prize wheel? What kind of photos had Max taken that would equal boudoir? Was he really the artistic photographer with a gallery showing or was that made up to impress them?

Max blinked rapidly and ran a hand through that glorious, thick, wavy hair.

Like a camera flash, her mind lit up at the possibilities: Emily, scantily clad in some kind of lacy ruffly confection, draped over a red velvet chaise lounge making goo-goo eyes at Max while he got up close and personal with her cleavage. Pose. Pose. Pose. Flash. Flash. Flash.

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