Shell Game

Chapter Two

"Stop!"

Luke froze as a three-foot-high whirlwind whizzed by, an exasperated mother trotting along behind the little boy. Though she might have made better progress apprehending the wayward kid if she'd put a little more speed into her stride.

Not far behind her, two older people—a man with a waistline broad enough to hide the whole family and a short gray-haired woman with glasses that ate up half her face—strolled after the mother and child. Their prideful grins could only mean they'd begotten the woman incapable of keeping up with her charge.

Glancing around the promenade level, Luke finally got Conway's joke. Luke had stumbled over and around enough pre-baby boomers since boarding the ship to populate a metropolitan city. As far as he could tell, the only single unattached female passengers to be found on this ship had yet to attend kindergarten.

When the hell had The Love Boat become Everyone Loves Raymond?

At least Conway had good taste and had booked a cabin with a balcony. And, from the looks of it, the sound of the ocean at night through the open sliding door might be the only comfort Luke would get on this cruise.

"Excuse me." A short, slight woman—old enough to be his grandmother, or at least his mom's big sister—stood holding a soft ice cream cone in each hand. "Have you seen my granddaughter? She was here just a moment ago."

"What does she look like?"

"Pretty thing. Has on a blue sundress. I told her I'd be right back. I don't want to miss the launch party poolside. Will you be going?"

That was the plan. He'd been checking out the facilities—and the women, or lack thereof—on his way to the upper deck.

"Oh, excuse me." A tall redhead with boobs up to her neck almost tripped over the old lady dripping ice cream at his side. "So sorry."

It took Luke all of two seconds to assess the boob job and a rock the size of Gibraltar on her left-hand ring finger before she took off. Some slightly over-the-hill banker had probably paid for the ring—and the boobs.

"You're good." The silver-haired woman smiled up at him. "I'm impressed."

"Beg your pardon?"

"Your eyes barely moved. How long did it take you? Three seconds? Maybe two?"

The old bird was on the ball. He wouldn't have expected a woman of her age to be so observant. "Two," he answered.

"Any idea how many carats she was flashing?"

"No, ma'am."

The woman's eyes twinkled with amusement.

He had a feeling she wasn't looking for information so much as testing him. If she needed advice on a jewelry purchase, she was asking the wrong guy. Now, the boob job? Definitely a double D. Thirty-six.

* * *

Less than one hour on the boat and already Sharla had lost her grandmother. When Sharla had envisioned the inside of a cruise ship, she'd drawn upon images from reruns of The Love Boat. Five smiling crew members greeting a handful of passengers strolling through a pretty lobby. Nowhere had she imagined four thousand people on a floating city. Since only two of the ten interior decks crossed the ship, like a freeway in rush hour, they were the paths most of those four thousand people used to get back and forth. She might have to put her grandmother on a damn leash to keep track of her.

According to the daily program they'd found in their cabin, the band would be playing poolside at 5:00 p.m. this afternoon while the ship set sail. Nana had mentioned wanting to be there, so Sharla jabbed the Up button for the elevator. If she couldn't find her grandmother on this deck, maybe she would find her poolside. Waiting for one of four elevators, she glanced at the heavyset man in a motorized wheelchair with his smiling chubby wife—and turned toward the stairs. Use it or lose it.