Perilous Waters. Sandra Orchard

probably want to hunt down someone more her type—not a man tied down by a child but someone wild and daring...a playboy. Definitely not the kind of guy Jen wanted to spend ten days around. And if Cass spent all her time flirting, Jen would never get the chance to broach the subject of selling the gallery.

      “Can we eat now?” Tommy squealed.

      “Sounds like a plan,” Sam and Jake said in unison.

      As they made their way down the hall, Jen admired the view through the ship’s windows—clear blue skies, sunlight dancing on the choppy water, the odd sailboat gliding by. She misstepped, feeling as if the ship had dipped over a wave, but the ship wasn’t moving yet.

      Sam caught her elbow. “You okay?”

      “Yes. I—” She swayed, and not just from the tingle skittering up her arm at Sam’s touch. “Whoa. Um, I guess I got a little dizzy looking at the water.”

      He held her steady. “Do you get seasick?”

      “I don’t know. I’ve never been on a ship. I put on a patch, just to be on the safe side.” She tucked her hair behind her ear and pointed to the seasickness patch she’d put on last night—twenty-four hours before setting sail, like the directions had said.

      Sam moved to her other side, between her and the window. “Maybe just focus on the hall for now, until you get your sea legs.”

      “Good idea.” She tried not to think about how sweet Sam was being. Her sole mission this trip was to convince Cass to agree to sell her half of the gallery. Maybe one day, after their names stopped being synonymous with wealthy heiresses, she could trust a man’s attention again.

      They soon reached a bank of elevators and Cass hit the up button. The numbers above each door all hovered around fourteen. “Looks like everyone has the same idea about hitting the buffet,” Jake said.

      A group jostled past them, glanced up at the numbers and then climbed the spacious stairs. Jen hoped the men wouldn’t suggest they do the same. She suddenly didn’t feel so good.

      They stepped on the first elevator that opened. It stopped one deck up, where a waiter stepped on—the waiter who’d served her the drink. He nodded then turned to the front. The elevator’s movement made her brain feel like Jell-O jiggling in a bowl. She pressed her palm to her temple.

      “You getting a migraine?” Cass’s face swam in front of Jen’s eyes.

      “I don’t know.” Jen’s muscles turned as jiggly as her brain. “I suddenly feel weird.” Her head seemed to be floating. She felt her legs give way in a kind of detached, surreal way. As she was sinking, the lights went out. Strong arms came around her—solid, unwavering.

      Cass called her name as if she were far away. A male voice, too. Sam’s. But she kept sinking until she couldn’t hear anymore.

      THREE

      “What’s wrong with her?” Cass screamed.

      Sam eased Jen gently to the elevator floor so he could check her airway, breathing and circulation. The ABCs of his first responder course spiraled through his mind like a CD on replay. “Jake, help me.” He was the firefighter. He knew what to do. Jake knelt beside him, Tommy clinging to his neck.

      The elevator doors opened.

      “Gran—” Tommy squealed and lunged for his grandparents, who were standing at the door waiting to board.

      Sam’s mom quickly overcame her surprise at the sight of the slumped woman and wrapped Tommy in her arms.

      “We’ve got to get this woman to sick bay,” Jake said. “We’ll meet you at the buffet when we can or back at the room.”

      “What deck is sick bay?” Sam asked the ship employee standing in front of the elevator panel.

      “Oh, uh, Deck Five, Plaza,” he said in a thick Eastern European accent.

      “Well, hit it, will you?”

      The man did as he was told, but the elevator stopped at the next deck down. “Excuse me. I get off here.”

      Cass lunged at the control panel and slapped the five again. “Is she going to be okay?”

      “Her respiration is good. Pulse is rapid,” Jake said. “Does she have any medical conditions or allergies?”

      “No, not that I know of.”

      The elevator doors opened on the fifth floor and Sam swept Jen into his arms. She was impossibly light, as if a strong nor’easter could sweep her off the deck. His chest crunched at the unwelcome image.

      “Which way to sick bay?” he asked the startled passengers waiting to board the elevator.

      “Deck Four—Gala, one down—turn left,” a woman spoke up.

      Cass slapped the 4 button. “How could a ship employee not know where sick bay is? He told us five.”

      A few seconds later the doors pulled open again, and Sam charged left with Jen in his arms, Cassandra and Jake following.

      A middle-aged woman in green scrubs directed him to lay her down on a bed, then she immediately checked Jen’s vitals as they relayed what they knew.

      The nurse pulled on reading glasses and jotted down Jen’s blood pressure reading. “What has she had to eat or drink in the past three hours?”

      Cassandra perched on a chair beside the bed and clutched Jen’s hand. “Nothing that I know of.” Black tears streamed down her cheeks. “We were on our way to supper.”

      “She had a glass of something a bit ago,” Sam interjected. “I didn’t see what.”

      The nurse eyed him suspiciously as she felt Jen’s glands. Not that he blamed her. He was kicking himself for not intervening when he saw that waiter press a drink on Jen that she didn’t seem to want.

      The nurse’s expression changed. She swept back Jen’s hair and pulled off the seasickness patch. “Not sure if this is a contributing factor to her blacking out. But we’ve seen a number of negative reactions to these.”

      Cass gasped. “Is she going to be okay?”

      The nurse patted Cass’s shoulder. “Her respiration is a bit slow, but her vitals are good. We’ll continue to monitor her until she comes to, unless you’d prefer we evacuate her to a hospital immediately.”

      “Do you think we should?”

      “The doctor will be here shortly. Let’s wait to see what he thinks.”

      “But that’s what you think it is?” Sam asked. “Just the seasickness patch?”

      “Did she take any recreational drugs? Alcohol?” The nurse’s gaze narrowed in on Cass. “It’s important you tell me everything so we can provide the best care to... This is your sister, right?”

      “Yes. She doesn’t do drugs.” Fresh tears streamed down Cass’s cheeks. “Or drink.” Cass swiped at her damp face. “This is all my fault. She didn’t even want to come on the cruise.”

      Jake rubbed Cass’s back. “It’s not your fault. She’s going to be okay.”

      The nurse turned her attention to Sam. “You said she had a drink. What was it? Did she leave it unattended?”

      “Can we speak outside a minute?” He cupped her elbow and steered her firmly out of the room. Once the door was closed he asked, “You think someone put a roofie in her drink?”

      The nurse looked at him over the rim of her glasses. “And how do you know about Rohypnol?”

      “C’mon, you just went through the list of what every woman shouldn’t do if she doesn’t want her drink spiked with a date rape drug.”

      Jake appeared at the doorway,