“Aiden came back?” A smile tickles my cheeks, and I clap my hand over my mouth. “Jade must be on top of the moon.”
I can’t be angry at her for the ditch and switch. After all, I ditched her first when she went on her Caribbean getaway where she ended up meeting Aiden Lin.
“Everything okay then?” Jordan places a hand on my shoulder. “Want to have a drink with me? Or do you want to hit the duty-free shops? How about the casino?”
“You’re really trying to help, aren’t you?” My heart softens somewhat at the man who appears overeager to do his job. “Guess Jade didn’t want me alone on this cruise, because I might never step out of my cabin.”
“Exactly.” He jiggles my shoulder. “Think of me as your personal Christmas elf. Let’s dress up in green and red and hit the casino. Maybe we’ll get lucky this Christmas.”
He wiggles his eyebrows, and I return him a discouraging scowl. I still don’t know what’s in it for him, but if he pulls any pranks, then I’m going for a preemptive strike.
“First, we need to lay down rules,” I say, putting on my sternest expression. “You’re not to call me your wife, especially in front of the other passengers. You’re to stay on your bunk, and I’ll stay on mine. You have to turn around whenever I tell you, because I’m not squeezing myself into the head every time I have to change. You’re to leave the toilet seat down, and you must deodorize the head every time you use the toilet. I don’t want to smell your crap. You have to keep your side of the cabin neat and clean. Throw out your own trash and use deodorant at night. If you snore, you have to wear nose vents.”
“Whoa there.” He holds up his hand in a “stop” gesture. “I’ll respect all your rules except for the nose vents. I don’t snore, and even if I did, you can wear earplugs.”
“I’m not wearing earplugs.”
He knocks on the wall to the adjoining cabin. “These walls are paper thin. You might want to reconsider if the neighbors start getting it on.”
I push my hands over my ears and shudder. “I don’t want to think about people getting it on. So gross.”
He raises an eyebrow and doesn’t comment, so I continue, “As for overnighters, if you want to hook up with someone, you’re to go to her cabin. I don’t want to walk in on anything.”
“Neither do I,” he says. “No sneaking in a vibrator or waking me up with heavy duty buzzing and moaning.”
My mind immediately twists to the hot, self-love scene I finished narrating yesterday before packing my bags. And yes, I did include a buzzing sound effect between my moans.
Speaking of vibrators. If it wasn’t Jade…
I narrow my eyes and make a cocking motion with my hand. “I’d rather shoot you first.”
“That pistol-grip hunka-hunka thing is pretty loud.”
“Did you sneak it into my carry-on?” My eyes are mere papercuts by now. “You did, didn’t you?”
He whistles as if he’s entirely innocent. “The lady’s going for plausible deniability. No pain. No shame. You enjoy sex toys. I’ll keep your secret.”
“That piece of junk isn’t my vibrator!” I shout to cover up my wayward thoughts.
“My junk is better.” He makes a motion with his hand and all I can do is picture him grabbing his crotch. “Any other rules?”
I want to wipe that knowing smirk off his face, so I go on the accusation trail. “No long showers, even if you have to, um, take care of yourself.”
Oops, bad move. I definitely don’t want to imagine him naked, wet, and glistening…
“Don’t worry, I’ll set a timer,” he says. “I’m usually very quick. Anything else?”
I cross my arms, trying not to think about a quickie in the shower. Why are my hormones so overactive?
This. Is. A. Kid. From. My. Third. Grade. Class.
I set my face in granite stone and pronounce, “Whatever Jade told you, this thing between us has to stay platonic. I’ve been burned by the entire Stephen Sommers fiasco. No hanky-panky.”
As if in a million years I’d ever find Jerky Jordan Reed attractive. I desperately try to superimpose the boyish curls, the mischievous gap-toothed mouth, the smudge on his nose, his ripped-at-the-knee jeans, and the grubby fingers stuffing a toad into his pocket.
Instead, Mr. Tall Dark and Devilish slides a suave grin my way.
“My condolences and full agreement.” His voice is honeyed and deep, the kind that melts bones, incinerates panties, and degenerates brain cells. Occupational hazard of a voice-over artist. I’m very sensitive to sound, timbre, and tone. “I’m only here to cheer you up, not get set up with you.”
