“Sorry, haven’t had a chance to go through all your things and be nosy yet,” he says with a painted-on straight face.
My cheeks burn red-hot, and I glare at him, wondering if he was the jerk who stuffed the pistol vibrator into my carry-on.
“I have to go to lost and found.” I fan myself as if Jordan farted and scrunch my nose. “You can’t stay here with me.”
“Why? Do you stink or something? I don’t mind.” He lays back onto my bunk and arranges the pillow under his gelled hair.
“I mind.” I grab his arm and drag him from the tiny cabin. “You’re the last person I need to pretend to be my husband and make Stephen jealous.”
“That’s not the goal,” he says smugly. “I know you don’t give a rat’s patootie about Stephen Sommers, future senator. Jade told me to give you a good time.”
I narrow my eyes. “Even worse for you. Jade betrayed me big time, and she’s no longer my best friend. I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to go.”
He struggles and yanks free of my grasp. “Oh, no. I’m not some stuffy gentleman who’s going to back down. If you want me off this boat, you’re going to have to fight me.”
“You’re getting sent to the brig.” I huff, wheeling around in the narrow passageway. “I’m reporting you to security.”
“We’ll see about that. They might not take your side of the story,” Jordan says. “After all, I am a ‘J Reed,’ and you’re just ‘Guest.’”
“No way.” My mouth drops open, and I punch my hands to my hips.
Jordan whips his access pass from his pocket and waves it in front of my face. “Nyah, nyah, nyah, it’s my room. Not yours. Go ahead and report me.”
I narrow my eyes as much as I can to sharpen my gaze to pencil points and glare at him. I’m sure it isn’t working, because his smirk widens and he winks, amused.
“Then I’m getting off this ship.” I stride through the passageway and alight onto the main deck. I report my missing phone with the concierge and ask if there’s any way I can get off the cruise ship.
“You’ll have to take the safety class first. Go to your muster station where they’re having the life boat orientation,” the bored-looking man says, pointing in the direction where folks are milling around and trying on life jackets.
A crew member shoves a jacket at me. “You’re late for the drill. Pay attention while we direct you to the nearest life boat.”
“Actually, I want off this ship,” I say with a pointed glare at Jordan who dared to follow me. “Is there a way I can take one of those life boats back to the harbor?”
“Safety isn’t a joke,” the crew member says. “Those life boats have an important function.”
“I understand. But I want to go back. Can you call a tugboat or the Coast Guard or a helicopter for me?”
The man’s lips turn down in a frown. “Unless you’re having a medical emergency, you’re staying on this ship until we reach Hawaii. Now, simmer down and put on your life jacket.”
I gape back at him. How dare he treat me like a five-year-old? I’m a paying customer—well, guest of a paying customer who happens to be a Reed, the family who owns this ship.
“There has to be a way. I’ve changed my mind and want to go back.” I point over the rail at the land behind us. “We’re not that far out to sea.”
“I can certainly send a security officer to escort you to the brig,” the crew member says. He hands a life jacket to someone behind me, which turns out to be Jordan.
“Sorry about my wife being difficult,” Jordan says. “We’re newlyweds, and she has cold feet, if you know what I mean.”
The crew member’s expression barely changes, but we catch the attention of the fortieth-reunion crowd who wants to ban pilots.
“Oh, how sweet,” a woman with streaked gray hair says. “First night jitters. It’ll all be over fast enough.”
“It’ll only hurt like a pinprick,” her friend says. “You won’t notice it a bit.”
“He might be just as nervous as you,” the first woman with the streaked hair says. “Don’t worry if it’s on the soft side.”
The two of them cover their mouths and giggle.
I level a smirk at Jordan at all of the small, fast, and soft references. “Do they know something about you I don’t know?”
