Murphy's Law (6 page)

“This way, Mrs. Murphy,” Mustafa said in fluent English.

She glanced quickly over her shoulder before she realized he was talking to her. She’d forgotten that she had to play the part of Jack’s wife.

“My husband?”
Lilly, who’d feared she might choke on the lies, found the words rolled off her tongue quite easily.

“He’ll be on in a few minutes.”

“And if he doesn’t?” she wondered aloud. The thought numbed her with fear. “Then I know what to do. Do not worry, Mrs. Murphy. You will be safe. Jack has been a good friend to my family, and I will see that nothing happens to his new wife.”

Apparently Jack hadn’t been completely honest with his good friend. Mustafa led Lilly through the narrow passageways to the sleeping quarters and left her inside. The room was surprisingly cheery despite its small size. A twin bed, covered in a brightly colored, geometric print quilt, took up half the floor space. Matching ruffled curtains bordered the porthole window and added a feminine touch to the tiny bedroom. She sat down on the edge of the mattress, praying that she wouldn’t be expected to share the room with Jack.

After her five-minute inspection, she felt the room close in on her. Where was Jack? Surely he must have tried to board. She worked herself into a state while her wild imagination left her fearing the worst. When he finally did walk in the door, she couldn’t decide if she wanted to throw her arms around him or smack the silly smirk off his face.

“You scared the life out of me. What took you so long?”

“Were you impatient for me, baby?” He kicked the door shut and sat down on the bed next to her.

“You conceited snake,” she grunted and turned her back to him. She must have been crazy to worry about him. If the man fell overboard, she should feel sorry for the sharks. “Give me my clothes and get out of here.”

He dropped the suitcase on the floor and grinned. “Out of here? This is my room too, darling wife.”

Chapter Four

Lilly gaped at Jack as if he were the devil himself. “You’re not sleeping here with me. There’s only one little bed.”

“How many beds does a honeymooning couple need? Mustafa insisted we use the room. I couldn’t insult his hospitality.”

She sucked in a deep breath, looking as if she were about to explode. Before she got a single word out, he pushed her onto the bed and covered her mouth with his hand. He slid on top of her and caught her wrists in his other hand. The length of his body kept her firmly in place as she tried to twist out from under him.

“Listen to me, you stubborn little brat. We have a charade to play out here. Do you understand?”

He tightened his grip and lowered his head so their faces were inches apart. He wanted to frighten her. By the startled look in her eyes, he’d accomplished his goal.

His patience had reached its limit. They couldn’t afford to draw attention to themselves. Screaming at her new husband was not his idea of keeping a low profile.

Lilly gasped for air. He lifted his hand long enough for her to catch a breath before covering her mouth again. “Are you going to keep quiet?” he asked.

She nodded slowly. He removed his hand from her mouth but kept her wrists pinned above her head on the bed.

“Get off me.” He heard the fury in her hushed voice.

“You are going to play the part of the happy bride or, I promise, I’ll make you look the part of a satisfied one. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear.”

“If I give you a playful pat to your bottom in front of those men, you will pretend you enjoy it. If I touch you, you will not push me away. Have you got that too?”

She fought back the tears that filled her eyes. A strange heaviness settled in his chest. Guilt was a useless emotion, so why did he feel the need to explain himself to her? And why was it so important that she understand?

She blinked, and a silvery drop of water streamed down her cheek. As he tried to brush it away, she jerked her head to one side. “Lilly.”

“I said I understand,” she choked out.

He shook his head. “No, you don’t. I don’t want to hurt you or scare you, but our survival depends on arousing no one’s suspicion. To those men, you are my wife. If you go around acting like you hate the sight of me, they’re going to wonder why I married such a shrew. That would only leave great sex as a motive. So make a decision. Did I marry you for your sweet charm or your seductive body?”

“Since neither one is a prize, it’s a moot point.”

He laughed and rolled off of her. He wished he could prove her wrong on both counts. When they got back to the States, he might do just that. For now, he’d settle for the fact that she understood the stakes and would play the game.

She sat up and straightened her clothing, staring at the floor.

“I know it’s difficult. But with the exception of tonight, which is for show, I’ll be working the night shift, and you’ll be alone in this room. Okay?”

She nodded and wiped a hand across her face. “How long are we going to be on this boat?”

“A few days.
We’ll get off when they make their return to Tangier.”

“Is it safe here?”

“Once we get out of port, we couldn’t be safer. You’d better get some sleep. You have to start breakfast at five o’clock.”

She pushed her hair over her shoulder and peered out through her lowered lashes. “I don’t know how to cook Moroccan food.”

“Cook what you know. They’ll eat anything. Just make sure there’s enough.”

“Okay. But if they mutiny, you’re going overboard with me.”

“You can count on it, baby. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

A soft laugh mingled with a hiccup. “Could I get rid of you for ten minutes while I change?”

He rolled his eyes and left her in the room.

Lilly opened the suitcase and picked through the clothing. She would not share a bed with Jack while wearing that silky number Chantal had given her. With his ego, he would assume she wanted to impress him. She found what she needed in a gray fleece sweat suit.

With Jack pacing in the hall, she dressed quickly. She reached for the door, but his deep voice stopped her. He was speaking to someone, and she thought she might learn something valuable by eavesdropping.

“Maksoofa?”
Mustafa asked.

“No. She said she had some kind of surprise for me.” Jack returned smoothly. The man was an accomplished liar. She deserved the dirty little laugh the men shared. Eavesdroppers never heard good things about themselves.

If Jack wanted her to play a part, she would give a performance worthy of an academy award. “Oh, Jack. I’m ready, honey,” she called out. She switched off the light and jumped on the bed.

The door clicked open. “Good night,” he said to Mustafa and walked in the room. As the door closed behind him, he reached for the light.

“Are you surprised, honey?”

She doubted she could have looked less appealing. The shapeless sweat suit made even her body look sexless. She wore no makeup. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and she had slipped on a pair of tortoiseshell sunglasses. “Welcome to the honeymoon in hell.”

“You’re going to get very hot dressed like that,” he commented on her attempt to put him off.

She lifted her shoulders, unconcerned.
“Perhaps.
But you won’t.”

He stood in front of her, pulled off the glasses and placed them on the dresser. When he turned back, he put his hand below her chin and tipped her head back. Instead of taking her jibe as a putdown, he seemed to view it as a direct challenge. His ebony eyes twinkled with wry amusement. “Didn’t I tell you, baby? Grey sweats really make me hot.”

“
Me
too, honey. But not for sex.”

He chuckled. “All right, my devoted wife. You win this round. But I’ll give you two hours before you’re tearing them off your body. We’re right above the engine room.”

Jack pulled his sweater over his head and tossed it on top of the table. With no shame at all, he began to remove his pants, laughing when she buried her head in her knees. “I think you are ‘maksoofa’ after all.”

“What does that mean?” she mumbled.

“Shy. This, by the way, is the Arabic word for tea. So if someone says shy to you, try not to blush. They only want a cup of tea.”

“I don’t blush.”

“No?” he said, pushing the hair away from her face to expose her cheek. “You’re as red as a beet right now, and I’m still in my underwear.”

“Well, hurry up and put on your pajamas.”

He laughed again and switched off the light. “This is more than I usually sleep in. Move over.”

Jack slipped in the bed next to her and brushed away her offer of the blanket. He didn’t appear uncomfortable about the sleeping arrangements, and that made her determined to show the same indifference. She remained perfectly still, pinned against the wall. The steady ticking of the clock echoed in her ears, and she tried counting to relax herself.

Ninety eight, ninety nine, one hundred
…. Exhaustion wracked her body, but sleep eluded her. His body, so close to hers, gave off heat and made the warm room seem even hotter.

Beads of perspiration rolled down the small of her back. She longed to pull off the clothes, but she refused to listen to Jack gloat. As the boat engine started up, the temperature rose even higher. She tossed and turned several times in the futile hope of finding a cooler position.

“Do you want to change?” he finally asked.

“No,” she said stubbornly. “But, could I sleep on the other side of the bed?”

“Sure.” He turned towards her and lifted her right across his body.

She felt every muscle of his hard body and one in particular she didn’t want to notice. He didn’t even have the decency to act embarrassed. She couldn’t be responsible for that reaction. He had to be thinking about someone else. She prayed that Jack couldn’t tell that she noticed.

Apparently he couldn’t resist the opportunity to taunt her again. “I told you gray sweats got me hot. Now go to sleep before I decide not to suppress the urge to act on it.”

His mocking comments didn’t bother her nearly as much as the excitement she felt from his reaction to her. She carried that disturbing thought into her dreams.

* * * *

A loud knock on the door woke Jack from a sound sleep. He glanced at the illuminated clock in the darkness. Two o’clock? As his eyes adjusted to the limited moonlight, he noted that Lilly was not in the room. She must have gone for the bathroom and locked herself out.

He smiled and pulled the door open for her. The corners of his mouth dropped when he saw Mustafa standing there, grinning.

“What happened?” he groaned.

“I hope, for the sake of your ego, my friend, that your wife is only experiencing sea sickness.”

Jack cursed his stupidity. He forgot to pick up something for motion sickness. The storms of the past few days made the water more choppy than normal. To someone not used to that, it could be torture.

He grabbed a pair of pants and a tee shirt and hopped out the door, dressing and walking at the same time. “Where is she?”

“Up on deck.
Sharif was afraid to help her without your permission so he called me.”

“I’ll get her.”

He ran down the narrow passageways and up the stairs to the deck. He found her hanging over the side, coughing and gasping. In an instant, he came up behind her.

Her hands gripped the railing so tightly that he had to pry them loose. “Come on, baby. Move away from the rail.”

“I’m not a baby, Jack,” she barely managed to get out before another coughing spasm began.

He pulled her in his arms and held her close, gently stroking her trembling body. “Close your mouth and breathe through your nose, slowly.”

For once, she followed his instruction without argument, and the coughing stopped. She tilted her head back and gazed up at him, her face pale and clammy. “I still feel sick.”

“Swallow hard and fight it. There’s nothing left in you to throw up, so it will hurt if you don’t stop yourself.”

Sweat drenched her entire body. The heavy clothing on the hot summer night added to her condition. He led her to the stairs and grasped the back of her shirt as she stumbled down. The galley was the first door at the bottom, and he guided her inside.

“Sit,” he ordered, pulling out a chair from under the counter. She flopped down and hunched over. “Up,” he said, gently urging her hands above her head. He knew how sick she felt when she didn’t raise the slightest objection as he pulled off her sweatshirt.

He took a very fleeting moment to note that she had a penchant for black lingerie, which she filled out perfectly. The room began to feel hot to him too. Reminding himself of the poor timing, he pulled off his tee shirt and slipped it over her head.

She mumbled something that could have passed for thank you. At least, he chose to believe that was what she had tried to say.