Summer Pirate Read online

  For this event, she had the impression a lot of the trappings had been removed. Everywhere were folks in costume, most, as she had suspected, looking more like Captain Feathersword than Johnny Depp. There were cameras, though they weren’t as intrusive as she’d thought.

  Fey, who had been pushing on her bottom to get her to move faster, suddenly froze. Lala bumped into her, pushing both of them into Laura.

  “Hey, kid, what’s up? Are you OK?” Lala asked Fey, rubbing her shoulder gently.

  Fey’s face started to crumple. She was staring at a particularly rough-edged pirate leaning arrogantly next to a podium, eyeing them with a look of disdain. “Mommy, I don’t want to go in there. They’re scary. They’ll hurt me.”

  Uh oh. “Fey, they can’t hurt you. They’re not real pirates. They’re just guys dressed up.”

  Fey’s eyes filled up. “No, they’re real. Timmy said. He said they’d steal me away and I’d never come home.”

  Laura drew Fey into her arms, her gaze meeting Lala’s over her sweet-scented head. Damn that Timmy Temple. Little twerp just loved telling her these things. He was the one who told her about the Boogyman, too. And his mother was one of those, ‘Oh, isn’t he expressive and creative…what an imagination. I certainly don’t want to suppress that‘ types. Laura would love to suppress the little snot.

  A balding man of medium height strolled over with the attitude of a man approaching a ticking bomb rather than a teary child. “Glad to meet you. My name is Joel Hammond, and I’m the director of this contest. We wanted to film your entrance. Is she going to be ok? We can do it over, no problem.”

  Laura shrugged. “I don’t know…she’s pretty upset.”

  Lala whispered, “Have one of these guys show her they’re fake.”

  Laura nodded. “Come on, sweetie, I’ll show you they’re not real.” She looked around for the one that had initially frightened her, but he had wandered off. Several more walked past without pausing.

  She reached out and snagged the full sleeve of the next one passing her, his head wrapped in a red bandanna and a patch over one eye. “Sir, can you help me?”

  He turned, bowing. “Milady, I will certainly try.”

  Now he was what Lala was talking about. This one was definitely a romance-style pirate. The uncovered eye was a deep amber color, and nice match to the dark brown shoulder-length hair caught in a queue at the nape of his neck. Could be a wig, but she doubted it. He had a goatee, and looked a lot like the most recent cartoon version of Sinbad, arched dark brows and all. Designed to raise a woman’s pulse rate, but not with fear. No way he could scare Fey.

  Wrong. Fey had moved on to outright tears, and was clinging to Laura’s legs in a death grip. ‘Sinbad’ eyed Fey. “I assume this is your problem, Madam?”

  “Yes. My daughter is afraid the pirates are going to take her away or hurt her. Can you please show her that you’re just some actor, so she’ll calm down?”

  His face tensed for a second, then smoothed. Very nice features, faint smile lines in the corners of the eyes. “Milady, your daughter has cause to fear. There are a many folk aboard who would do just that. But we will watch out for her.”

  Laura tensed. “Look, you’re really scaring her. Do you get off on upsetting little kids? What do you do, use it for motivation for auditions? Just pull that eye patch up and speak normally…that’s all it’ll take.”

  The tension drifted over his features again, settling in and upgrading to outright anger. He leaned closer. “I can’t break character while on the floor. It’s the rule, and in the contract. The cameras are on us all the time. I could lose my job, and I need this money. I don’t like seeing your daughter cry, but I can’t help it.” He then stepped back and guffawed in true pirate fashion.

  Laura thought briefly, then met his gaze. “Up for a little improv, Mr. Pirate?”

  His brow furrowed, but he nodded, his expression clearly displaying his lack of faith in her sanity.

  “Follow my lead,” she muttered, meeting his eyes. Pretty, indeed. Out loud, she said, “Oh, no, dear me… Feylen, we must run from the evil pirate…hurry, we’ll hide over there.”

  She bolted toward an alcove, then around the corner. Fey howled, racing after her. Mr. Pirate followed, growling menacingly.

  Once they were around the corner, she dashed into a door marked ‘Cleaning Staff‘, yanking Fey behind her when she balked. Mr. Pirate slipped in, closing the door behind him, and pulled a dangling chain. Light filled the tiny room.

  “There, no cameras. Now tell my daughter the truth.” Laura shifted uneasily in the cramped quarters. He smelled good, too. The tiny room barely held them all, and she could practically feel his breath on her cheek.

  He grinned. “Nicely done. Hey…Fey, is that your name?”

  Fey sniffled.

  “Fey, I’m not a real pirate. I just dress up like one. See?”

  He kneeled and lifted the eye patch so Fey could see. She stepped out of her mother’s arms enough to peek, then huddled back against her.

  “Fey, really. I’m telling you the truth. In fact, you wanna know what I really do for a living?”

  Laura shuddered. “Please don’t scare her further.”

  He looked up briefly, eyebrow raised. With him kneeling in front of her like that, parts of her imagination previously utilized only by her keyboard started to wander. “Sarcasm is not appreciated. Or required. I am not an actor, out of work or otherwise.” The intensity in his gaze strengthened the prickles working through her nerves. He really was adorable.

  He lowered his gaze to Fey again. “Honey, I’m a teacher. I teach sixth grade. I wouldn’t hurt kids, ever.”

  Fey raised her head from Laura’s now decidedly damp—with tears—jeans. “Really?”

  “Really. I just do this for fun.” He glanced up at Laura again. She couldn’t seem to turn off this sudden hormone crisis, and his presence was starting to bring sweat to her brow. Or was that claustrophobia? “And to supplement a teacher’s income.”

  Laura flushed. Oops.

  Fey turned to face him completely, reaching out tentatively to touch his eye patch. He tugged it off and put it on her, sparking a flurry of snuffly giggles. “You all right now, kid?” he asked, ruffling her hair.

  Fey nodded and pulling off the eye patch handed it to him, giving him a blast of her big baby blues. What a flirt. He put it on, and nodded to Laura. “Milady.”

  She started, “I’m so so—“

  Before she could finish, he turned, whipped the door open, and left.

  Apparently she stood there for a long moment, because Fey began to fidget impatiently. “Mommy, can we go already? I’m okay now.”

  Laura mentally shook herself and opened the door, tugging the chain to turn out the light, and headed out to redo her entrance, now with a non-howling daughter, but a sensation in her belly that was almost as unnerving.

  * * * *

  Entrance completed, they entered their quarters. Laura and Feylen were sharing a double, while Lala had a single. Both were quite spacious, and after admiring both, they settled into Laura’s room to chat.

  “Aren’t you going to unpack?” Laura asked.

  Lala grinned. “Why? Anyone who sees my room, except for you, will hopefully not mind.”

  Laura sighed. “Must you?”

  Feylen broke in. “Mommy, I’m thirsty.”

  “In that little fridge there,” Lala pointed.

  “Lala! The minibar? You know what that costs?”

  “What part of all-expenses-paid are you not getting, girl?” Lala knelt next to Fey and dug out a single-serving bottle of orange juice, helping herself to a small bottle of vodka as well. Pouring a bit of the juice into a glass, she handed the rest to Fey. She then settled on the floor, back against the foot of the bed, and added a dash of vodka to her glass. “So what’s the deal? I assume there’s appearances and such.”

  “Not really. They left a list of things they’d like to see Fey and I do, but they�
�re suggestions. Most of them are things we’d do anyway, so no big there. I have a feeling they have some sort of deal going with Carnival to show off the boat during this.”

  “That makes sense. What say we hit it? I’ll go change, we’ll grab a bite, and go see what’s on the list. Fey, you wanna go play with some other kids?”

  Fey perked up. “Sure, that sounds good. Can I have ice cream, too? And go swimming? And go shopping?”

  Lala laughed. “All in good time, dear.”

  Chapter Three

  After a leisurely lunch at one of the restaurants on their suggestions list, they dropped Fey off at the playroom. Laura was concerned about leaving her, after the reaction earlier, but Fey left her side unconcerned. The attendant gave her a beeper, and told her if anything went wrong, they would beep her, and she could go to any phone and dial 10 to check in. Laura’s mind relieved, they decided to hit the pool. After another clothes change, they were on the move again.

  Laura nervously tightened the knot on her sarong. She had gone Atkins after all, and lost ten pounds, but was still not comfortable in a bathing suit. She was only about 5’ 3”, so 130 did not a supermodel make. Especially next to Lala, who felt no need to cover her bikini—or body—with a sarong, and was turning heads.

  Settled in a chaise, she watched Lala chat up a handsome specimen as they stood hip-deep in the shallows. Lala laughed at something he said, throwing her head back, and almost had a boob pop out of her suit top. Not that it would have bothered her. Lala brushed back a strand of damp, flaming red hair, and placed a hand on his shoulder, moving up to the bristles of his marine-style hair. They kissed, lightly, then spoke for a moment. Together, they moved to the ladder and got out. Lala blew a kiss to Laura, and they wandered toward the entrance to the staterooms.

  Gee, wonder what they’re doing? Laura sighed and lowered her head to her paperback. Lala was her best friend, but sometimes her cavalier attitude toward sex was a bit confusing. Laura often wondered why she herself couldn’t be that free with it. Even before she had Fey, she was never the pickup type. Even Fey’s father had to wait a few dates to get anywhere. She secretly envied people who could just cut loose like that.

  Her mind drifted to her little interaction with ‘Sinbad’. She had at times felt attraction to men, so that was standard. She wasn’t a nun. It was something one just had to deal with. This was different, though. Before, she would idly daydream about kissing the man in question, get a bit of warmth between her legs, maybe, then go home and ponder it a bit until she had a bit of privacy to take care of the niggling urge.

  But her pirate boy…she had been caught by a sudden tension that struck her entire body with the force of a slap. She had not merely thought about kissing him, she could feel a thirst to taste him, feel the pressure of his firmness, the humid power. The sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach when he’d turned and left. Silly. How can you lose what you never had?

  Shh. Use the usual method of the unremittingly celibate. Fantasy…

  He wrapped her hair around his hand. “I must kiss you…”

  His lips met hers, and she pressed against his hard frame, grinding against him as her fingers found the sleek ponytail and yanked the ribbon binding it, freeing the wind-scented strands. Their kiss deepened, his hardness attesting to his increased arousal. Her nails dug into his back, enjoying the flex and strain of hard muscle against her fingertips.

  His hands moved to her rounded ass. Well, maybe a bit too rounded, but he was into big butts. Really.

  Christ, she even fantasized in romance prose. And she needed an editor for that, as well. She could picture that…her editor, Melissa, whispering in her ear that she needed more description…and why not add a threesome? Readers like that. Maybe a paranormal aspect, too. An elf couldn't hurt.

  “Milady, might a wayward sailor join you?”

  Laura twitched out of the half-doze the warmth of the sun—and her thoughts—had induced and attempted to focus. Good Lord. Time to snatch some semblance of wit. At least half.

  “Do ye mean me harm, sir?”

  He perched on the end of her lounge and grinned. Great smile. Still in his pirate garb. Something about that was quite appealing. She tried very hard not to squirm. Much. Damn.

  “Depends on the definition, I assume, Milady. How’s the kid?”

  “You’re the teacher, you define it. And she’s fine. Thanks for asking. By the way…”

  The grin widened, and he flicked his wrists, straightening the pleats of his full sleeves. “Yes, I know. You’re sorry you thought I was an out-of-work actor instead of an educated man with a rewarding but low-paying job?”

  She relaxed. “Something like that.”

  “Now, the definition…” He ran a hand over his hair. “Is talking ok?”

  “Well, it appears I can’t stop you from doing that without causing a scene. So, agreed. Talking is acceptable.”

  “Good, then I can ask at least two questions that have been running through my head.”

  She eyed him warily. “Like?”

  “Why Feylen for a name?”

  Easy answer. “I saw the name in a book and liked it. It was a last name in the book, but…” she shrugged. “Next question?”

  His expression changed swiftly, as if a stack of photos were rearranged. “Where is her father?”

  Ouch. Her eyes dropped. “He’s dead.”

  He paled. “Oh. My turn to apologize.”

  Laura shook her head. “No, really, it’s fine. It’s a long story, but really, it’s fine. We’re fine.” She jerked her head suddenly, catching those amber eyes in a perusal. “Why do you ask?”

  Mr. Pirate’s eyes clouded. “Why else would I ask? I think you’re someone I wish to get to know, and it’s always good to know these things in a situation like that.”

  Laura frowned. “Get to know? Meaning, talk about our dreams and aspirations, then…well…”

  He eyed her warily. “Well, yes, that’d be nice to know a bit about you. Was it not made clear I’m not really a pirate? Really, you have nothing to fear. I do find you very attractive, but I also know you can’t exactly be swept off your feet and trotted off into the sunset. Reality sucks, but I do understand. So, yes, let’s talk.”

  “You find me attractive?” Now that would literally be a dream come true. If I’d written that, I’d have gotten my literary butt kicked.

  “You are attractive. Statement of fact. Plus you have a quick mind and a sense of humor, and you’re very good with an obviously bright and creative, yet highly sensitive child. You can learn a lot about someone by watching how they act around kids. This I can say from experience. And those are the factors that rate above all else on my scale. But if you want physical specifics…”

  You bet your inordinately cute ass I do, sweetie. In detail, and in order of preference, so I know what needs work. Or surgically removed.

  He reached out. “May I?”

  “Depends on what you’re asking to touch.”

  The rakish grin returned. He really did look like a pirate when he did that. “I swear, G only.”

  She nodded.

  Wait a minute. G-rated, or…Damn, you have a dirty mind all of a sudden.

  Moving his hand toward her, his fingertip gently pressed under her chin, tilting her head up. “You have beautiful eyes, crystal-blue. I’ve never seen something of such a cool color that could look so warm. And you have very nice lips…not too full, not too thin. Sleek.”

  The fingertip moved to her throat, moving downward to tap a bare shoulder lightly. “Gorgeous shoulders. Smooth. You have great skin.”

  She inhaled, closing her eyes. Wow. That simple little touch was doing more that all her books combined, as far as direct stimulation. She could sense a humming under her skin, an undercurrent of the physical and emotional that could oh so easily be intensified. If he would kiss her, touch her in any intimate fashion…his presence alone aroused her to this point of actually feeling heat rise in her body, a need,
an unconscious straining toward him. A want of such strength that it could heal. He was close enough, she could move closer, smile, choose some signal from her huge repertoire of such themes that her heroines always knew. She could be like Lala, and take what she wanted. She could do it right now, just move closer, touch him. Kiss him. Take him and all the release and wonder he represented.

  Or she could sit there like a condemned prisoner waiting for execution. Which was exactly what she did.

  He sat back, placing his hand on his knee.

  She opened her eyes. “Run out of things?”

  “Well, things I can touch in public without getting my face slapped. I have to go anyway. The director is giving me the evil eye, which means they’re ready to take their shot. Can we meet for dinner in one of the ship restaurants? The Four Winds? Around seven?”

  Sure. After a very long cold shower, I may be able to think and talk again.

  “Yes, but I may have to bring Fey. I think Lala will be otherwise occupied.”

  Raised eyebrow. “I noticed. A chaperone is no problem. I’ll see you at seven.”

  “At seven. Four Winds. Got it.

  What the hell are you thinking? She berated herself. They have child minding until midnight. You’re just hiding behind your daughter again.

  * * * *

  Lala grinned, tugging Chad to her room. They had to pause occasionally to kiss, and when the elevator doors closed, she couldn’t keep a grin from inching across her already warmed lips.

  Chad caught her expression and shook his head. “Sorry. Fun though it may be, we can’t. Not with this event going on.”

  Lala was disappointed. “You work for them?”

  He nodded. “But I promise to make it up to you.”

  “Oh, I love to hear those words from a man.” She cuddled close to him, running a hand over his taut, ridged thighs.