Read Online Jaine Austen 8 - Killer Cruise by Laura Levine - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Laura Levine
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peppers.”
“Good grief, Emily!” Ms. Nesbitt piped up, shaking her head. “You can’t have the Steak Mexicana. Much too spicy.”
“Oh, dear,” Emily sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t.”
And then Graham did the unthinkable. He contradicted Ms. Nesbitt.
“Oh, go ahead, Em,” he said. “Get what you want.”
“Do you really think so, Gray?”
“The steak’s not that spicy, is it?” he asked the waiter.
“Not at all,” the waiter replied.
“And besides,” Graham said, with a wink, “you only live once.”
“Yes,” Emily said, clearly under his spell, “I think I’ll have the steak.”
Nesbitt seethed as Graham shot her a smug smile. Another victory for Graham in the Emily Wars.
The waiter proceeded to take the rest of our orders. Once again, due to my second-class citizenship, I was saddled with the chicken. But the others were under no such restraints, and I listened with envy as one after the other opted for red meat. Only Ms. Nesbitt held back, sticking with her ghastly vegetable plate.
Finally, the waiter trotted off, leaving our jolly party to converse with each other. Which was about as easy as that Sisyphus guy trying to roll a boulder up a hill.
What can I say? Conversation did not sparkle. Not with Nesbitt and Kyle in full-tilt snit mode.
Emily, however, seemed oblivious to the tension crackling in the air and chattered gaily about the day’s activities.
“Graham and I won second prize in Scattegories! We had so much fun, didn’t we, Gray?”
“So what exactly is it that you do for a living?” Kyle asked, clearly not interested in their Scattegories victory.
“Graham’s a retired corporate executive!” Emily beamed.
“Fortunately,” Graham said, “I was lucky with a few investments so I was able to retire young and pursue my love of cruising.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Emily beamed. “Gray loves cruising just as much as I do!”
“How nice,” Maggie said, darting an anxious glance at her husband’s rapidly draining martini glass.
“Where exactly did you work?” Kyle asked, not to be deterred from his cross-examination.
“The British Petroleum Corporation,” Graham replied, with a cool smile. “For almost twenty years. I’ll be happy to fax you my resume if you like.”
“Touché, Graham,” Robbie said, a twinkle in his eye.
To which Kyle muttered what I was certain was a hearty curse.
Thank heavens the waiter showed up just then with our appetizers. But alas, he eventually abandoned us to our own company, and the rest of the dinner slogged by under a thundercloud of tension, with Kyle and Ms. Nesbitt radiating hostility and poor Maggie watching helplessly as her husband downed one martini after another.
I, meanwhile, was trying desperately not to reach over and cut myself a hunk of Emily’s Steak Mexicana. I was also busy trying to avoid eye contact with Robbie, who kept looking at me with that disconcerting grin of his.
But what bothered me the most, more than the tension, more than the lure of the forbidden Steak Mexicana and Robbie’s lopsided grin, was the way Graham was cozying up to Emily, gazing deeply into her eyes and brushing her hand with the tips of his fingers.
He sure wasn’t acting like a guy who had a fiancée waiting in the wings.
“Ready to take another spin on the dance floor?” Robbie whispered as we filed out of the dining room.
Just say no , I warned myself. Do not get involved with a bad-boy heartbreaker. He walked out on you last night. He’ll walk out on you again.
“Please say yes,” he said, sensing my hesitation. “If you don’t, I’ll have to dance with the battle-axe.” He glanced over at Ms. Nesbitt, who was discreetly popping a Tums into her mouth.
I steeled myself against temptation, but all it took was one sniff of his baby powder, and the next thing I knew I was in his arms on the dance floor.
Obviously I missed class the day they passed out backbones.
Graham and Emily were dancing
“Good grief, Emily!” Ms. Nesbitt piped up, shaking her head. “You can’t have the Steak Mexicana. Much too spicy.”
“Oh, dear,” Emily sighed. “I suppose I shouldn’t.”
And then Graham did the unthinkable. He contradicted Ms. Nesbitt.
“Oh, go ahead, Em,” he said. “Get what you want.”
“Do you really think so, Gray?”
“The steak’s not that spicy, is it?” he asked the waiter.
“Not at all,” the waiter replied.
“And besides,” Graham said, with a wink, “you only live once.”
“Yes,” Emily said, clearly under his spell, “I think I’ll have the steak.”
Nesbitt seethed as Graham shot her a smug smile. Another victory for Graham in the Emily Wars.
The waiter proceeded to take the rest of our orders. Once again, due to my second-class citizenship, I was saddled with the chicken. But the others were under no such restraints, and I listened with envy as one after the other opted for red meat. Only Ms. Nesbitt held back, sticking with her ghastly vegetable plate.
Finally, the waiter trotted off, leaving our jolly party to converse with each other. Which was about as easy as that Sisyphus guy trying to roll a boulder up a hill.
What can I say? Conversation did not sparkle. Not with Nesbitt and Kyle in full-tilt snit mode.
Emily, however, seemed oblivious to the tension crackling in the air and chattered gaily about the day’s activities.
“Graham and I won second prize in Scattegories! We had so much fun, didn’t we, Gray?”
“So what exactly is it that you do for a living?” Kyle asked, clearly not interested in their Scattegories victory.
“Graham’s a retired corporate executive!” Emily beamed.
“Fortunately,” Graham said, “I was lucky with a few investments so I was able to retire young and pursue my love of cruising.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” Emily beamed. “Gray loves cruising just as much as I do!”
“How nice,” Maggie said, darting an anxious glance at her husband’s rapidly draining martini glass.
“Where exactly did you work?” Kyle asked, not to be deterred from his cross-examination.
“The British Petroleum Corporation,” Graham replied, with a cool smile. “For almost twenty years. I’ll be happy to fax you my resume if you like.”
“Touché, Graham,” Robbie said, a twinkle in his eye.
To which Kyle muttered what I was certain was a hearty curse.
Thank heavens the waiter showed up just then with our appetizers. But alas, he eventually abandoned us to our own company, and the rest of the dinner slogged by under a thundercloud of tension, with Kyle and Ms. Nesbitt radiating hostility and poor Maggie watching helplessly as her husband downed one martini after another.
I, meanwhile, was trying desperately not to reach over and cut myself a hunk of Emily’s Steak Mexicana. I was also busy trying to avoid eye contact with Robbie, who kept looking at me with that disconcerting grin of his.
But what bothered me the most, more than the tension, more than the lure of the forbidden Steak Mexicana and Robbie’s lopsided grin, was the way Graham was cozying up to Emily, gazing deeply into her eyes and brushing her hand with the tips of his fingers.
He sure wasn’t acting like a guy who had a fiancée waiting in the wings.
“Ready to take another spin on the dance floor?” Robbie whispered as we filed out of the dining room.
Just say no , I warned myself. Do not get involved with a bad-boy heartbreaker. He walked out on you last night. He’ll walk out on you again.
“Please say yes,” he said, sensing my hesitation. “If you don’t, I’ll have to dance with the battle-axe.” He glanced over at Ms. Nesbitt, who was discreetly popping a Tums into her mouth.
I steeled myself against temptation, but all it took was one sniff of his baby powder, and the next thing I knew I was in his arms on the dance floor.
Obviously I missed class the day they passed out backbones.
Graham and Emily were dancing
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