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“Oh, God…” She latched her hand over her mouth and bent over the railing.
“Sterling?” he called.
But she didn’t have time to acknowledge him.
She braced both hands on the railing and lurched forward. What had been designated as the most hideous night of her life had just been upgraded to the most humiliating. She heaved—and heaved again—fully aware of the man who stalked closer to where she stood puking her guts out into the glistening water.
So much for luring a sexy man. Served her right for thinking she could have fun. She just proved that even her attempt at spontaneity had to be well thought out.
Rough hands caressed her shoulders, then gripped her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck. Jack held her hair with one hand while the other circled her back. His fingers, soothing against her exposed skin, rubbed tenderly. A wave of warmth surged through her body. She was unsure of its origin—the sickness that now eased inside her stomach or the simple touch of this stranger.
“Feel better?” He was so close, the heat of his body turning up her temperature from hot to stifling. “Take this.”
He offered her a Kleenex, one he must have found in the travel package inside her purse. What was a little fishing expedition inside her purse when he’d seen the inner contents of her stomach fly over the metal railing of a boat? She wiped the tissue across her mouth.
“You’re good at this,” she whispered, then swallowed hard around the soreness in her throat.
He cocked his head, his eyes questioning.
“Taking care of people,” she clarified.
He shrugged. “Let’s just say I have experience with women skilled in stomach pyrotechnics.”
No doubt he’d held many a drunk girl’s hair in a hotel bathroom during his wild antics. But then he smiled, a casual grin that tingled all the way down to her toes. As their eyes met, time seemed to stand still.
“Chef Jack?”
Sterling shook off the dazed feeling as George crept toward them, biting his lip between his teeth. When Jack turned to face him, he immediately straightened. “Chef Neil said you need to get upstairs. He’s going to make his speech.”
Jack shot Sterling a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry.”
“Go.” She waved him off. “This is your party. Please, don’t let me keep you.”
“But—”
“I’ll be fine.” She reached forward and touched his forearm, which rested along the rail.
Sure she would. As soon as the boat docked.
Jack looked between the two of them. That same heat wasn’t reflected in his gaze. He looked on with kindness, concern. Not with the fire he had five minutes earlier, before she’d retched up the contents of her stomach.
“It was nice to meet you, Sterling Andrews.”
She frowned and her shoulders slumped forward when he backed away. “Thanks for…everything.”
He winked. “Glad I could be here.”
Gone was the nausea. Gone was the urge to heave. In its place was the realization that she was most definitely not getting honey licked off of anything tonight.
She rested her body against the rail, the metal bar snug against her armpit, and sighed. What an epic humiliation. But on the bright side, at least only one person was witness to her embarrassment and not a yacht full.
“Why didn’t you tell me you got sick on boats?”
Sterling turned and smiled. Penn sidled up to her, brushing her hair away from her forehead.
“I didn’t know. I’ve never been on a big boat before.”
Penn was the most beautiful woman Sterling knew, and stylish in that glam-goth way. Her porcelain skin was luminescent any day of the week, and her black hair hung just past her shoulders, styled with a roll to the side, and secured away from her face with a white barrette. Tonight, she wore a black dress with white polka dots, the bodice a V-neck with thin straps, and a black belt around her trim waist. And as always, her outfit was not complete without four-inch stilettos. She didn’t go anywhere without high heels.
