Joanne Rock - The Pleasure Trip

She may be on a cruise liner, but lately, Rita Frazer’s life looks more like a shabby dinghy. Working as a seamstress on a ship called the Venus, Rita hasn’t been feeling very goddess like. More like a Swamp-Thing with red hair and a mouthful of pins. When the ship hosts a fashion show, Rita figures she finally has a chance at being a designer—until she finds herself on the runway, instead of her designs.

But Rita’s found her muse. And he’s watching the fashion show. Harrison Masters is capable of making any woman drop sails, anchor and most of her clothes. And he might be successful with Rita, but she panics when her sister disappears. Now Rita’s little dinghy—which was ready for an upgrade to full-on Love Boat only moments ago—is starting to leak. Bail water…or bail out?

Previously Published.

The Pleasure Trip

Joanne Rock

www.millsandboon.co.uk

“Joanne Rock’s heroes capture and conquer in just one glance, one word, one touch. Irresistible!”

—USA TODAY bestselling author Julie Leto

“Sizzling chemistry with a splash of seductively intense suspense—fabulous Joanne Rock always delivers a page-turning read!”

—RITA ®Award winner Catherine Mann

“The storyline is action-packed…and never slows down.”

—The Best Reviews on His Wicked Ways

This book is dedicated to my big sister, Linda, whose love and friendship mean the world to me. Her generous spirit is great inspiration for what sisterhood should be all about. And while our relationship bears little resemblance to Rita and Jayne’s except in the best of ways, Linda’s wizardry with needle and thread (and possibly a glue gun) did provide me with the idea for the sisterly gifts contained in this story. My glitter sneakers are on my list of top ten presents I’ve ever received. Thank you, big sister!

I’d like to thank the staff and crew members of the Carnival Inspiration for their enthusiasm about my book and their help to ensure my questions were answered. My fictional cruise line is not in any way modeled on the commitment to excellence that I saw around me every day on a Carnival ship, but I appreciated the insights about life on board so that I could create a believable world for The Pleasure Trip . Thank you especially to Cruise Director Lenny Halliday and the Carnival promotion department. Thanks also to our dining companions Al and Debbie Moy, who kindly shared their experiences from multiple cruises with a couple of first-timers. Not only did I learn a lot for my book, but I had a great time in the process and can’t wait for another trip!

Cover

Back Cover Text

Title Page

Praise

Dedication

Acknowledgments

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

EPILOGUE

Bonus Features Inside

Copyright

EVEN FOR A WOMAN with two left feet, pounding down eight flights of stairs in cheap flip-flops didn’t present a challenge when fueled by anger and the desire to give a well-deserved butt kicking.

Silently fuming, Rita Frazer shoved open the stairwell door on the basement level of Roman Cruise Lines’ flagship, the Venus , where she and her sister had worked for over a year. She glanced down at her insubstantial footwear with blue plastic flowers between the toes. No doubt about it, her flip-flops were a sorry excuse for butt-kicking shoes. But where there was a will, desperate women found a way.

“Jayne!” Rita shouted down the narrow corridor reserved for the ship’s employees, steam hissing from her ears like the boiler beside her cabin. Everyone but her younger sister the showgirl was at work this afternoon, prepping for an influx of passengers after a day docked in St. Kitts, the second island stop on a ten-day Caribbean cruise.

Rita had done the same trip plenty of times as official seamstress for the Venus . But this wasn’t just any cruise, and Jayne knew it. This particular excursion could be Rita’s big financial break since she’d gone out on a limb to create new outfits for the show—outfits five times as good as what they’d bought from manufacturers in the past. She just hoped the cruise management company would agree and pony up an appropriate payout.

And of course, she hoped Jayne—one of the show’s featured performers—didn’t mess up Rita’s big night.

When no answer was forthcoming, Rita stomped her way to the end of the hall, following the scent of the Chanel No. 5 Jayne preferred even though none of the dancers were supposed to wear perfume out of deference to the costumes. The familiar fragrance wafted from the same interior stateroom from which a warbling rendition of “Stand By Your Man” currently emanated.

Rita let herself into the compact room they shared in the bowels of the ship, a room Jayne never bothered to bolt no matter how many times they discussed the potential dangers with an ever-changing crew of nine hundred. The drone of shower water mingled with god-awful singing.

“You are so dead.” Rita figured it would be okay to strangle her sister today since Jayne hadn’t bothered to show for dress rehearsal this afternoon when she knew damn well this was Rita’s one chance to shine in her peon job as a seamstress.

The singing stopped as Jayne popped her head out of the shower, all smiles amid a cloud of steam. “Rita? What time is it?”

“Past time for rehearsal and Danielle already wants your head on a platter for not checking in with her. Star status doesn’t buy you exemption from attending show preliminaries.” She torpedoed a towel against the shower curtain, nailing Jayne in the hip through the white waffle weave. “Besides that, do you know how many corporate managers I corralled into seeing the show tonight to see the new outfits? The boat pulls out in twenty minutes.”

“Crap.” The reference to the timeline at least got Jayne moving as she ducked back into the shower spray to rinse. “I’ve got to hurry.”

Mildly disappointed no butt kicking had been needed, Rita gave her flip-flops the rest of the day off. She stalked out of the closet-size bathroom, noting the unholy mess scattered about their cramped cabin now that she wasn’t focused solely on her beef with Jayne. Clothes were strewn everywhere, the twin beds both covered in discarded silk tops, scarves and skinny hot pants.

“I’m not even going to ask what happened in here.” Rita flung her plastic thongs into the closet and reached for a more forgiving pair of sneakers to wear with her jean shorts. “I’ve got too much on my mind to wade through your wardrobe crisis.”