Pirateless in the Caribbean

By Jill Jaynes

Stephanie will do anything to make partner at her law firm, even if it means going on the totally unnecessary Caribbean vacation her boss sends her on, and returning with all the items on his stupid scavenger hunt list.

Little does she know that magic is hitching a ride on this vacation from hell, courtesy of her friend Nichole who has knit a little pirate-y magic into the sexy monokini bathing suit Stephanie has tucked away in her suitcase.

She may find all the items on her list, but what is she supposed to do about the pirate who sails away with her heart?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Uncial Press
• Release date: May 15, 2016
• ISBN: 9781601742162

Book preview

silently.

Chapter 1

Stephanie

Stephanie Birch sipped her complimentary champagne and scowled out the tiny airplane window at the ocean of fluffy clouds below. Damn! She was only one hour into this trip and it already felt like an eternity.

She knew a lot of people would give their right arms to be sitting where she was at the moment—in a first-class seat on her way to a first-class Caribbean vacation. She wished she could give it to one of them.

Absently, she plucked a fresh blueberry from the white ceramic bowl of fruit the perky stewardess had brought in a misguided attempt to cheer her up, and popped it in her mouth. She sighed. Damn, it was perfect. Not mushy, not sour, just firm and juicy and sweet as it burst in her mouth.

She didn't want to enjoy this. She wanted to hate it all.

She did hate it all, she reminded herself, and focused on fuming all over again at her boss's high-handed maneuvering that put her in this seat.

She should be in a very different place, the seat in front of her orderly desk in her orderly office, doing what she did best. What they paid her a lot of money to do. Five years of focus, hard work and long hours had earned her a reputation as a killer contracts attorney. She was one of the best in Seattle, maybe even in the Pacific Northwest. No matter what my brothers think. She was poised to become one of the youngest partners in the firm's twenty-five year history.

One little incident, just one little slip up, and her boss shipped her off to the nearest Caribbean island.

Okay, so she shouldn't have lost it and screamed at the client's secretary on the phone. She should have screamed at the woman's boss. He was the one who deserved it. But she had somehow managed to refrain from telling the General Manager of Gentel Corporation exactly how big of an idiot he was. Which, she had to admit, was likely why she was on a plane to St. John's with orders to decompress, instead of applying for unemployment.

Stephanie rolled her head back against the headrest, and pressed her fingers against the dull throb in her temples. She wasn't stressed. She wasn't. She'd done fine without a vacation for the last five years and she didn't need one now. She just had a bad case of technology withdrawal.

Her boss had made her relinquish her smart phone, her iPad and her laptop into his keeping before she left on the trip, ensuring she had no way of connecting to work on the sly. He had even taken her e-reader, insisting it was for her own good.

All she had to entertain herself with was a John Grisham paperback he had plucked from his office shelf and tossed to her when she had asked what she was supposed to do for all those hours stuck on a plane. The whole situation gave her a new sympathy for substance abusers.

She dug frantically in her purse for the novel, anything to give her fingers something to do. Pulling out the piece of paper she'd stuck between the pages, she smoothed the wrinkles left from her wadding the offensive thing into a ball after she'd first read it.

If you want that partnership, this is the only way, her boss, Brett Bainbridge, of Bainbridge, Smith and Lowry, had warned as he'd held the paper out to her. You're going to go on this vacation and you're going to do every single thing on this list. His expression had softened. You need this Stephanie, as much as we need you. I'm asking you to trust me.

She had snatched the list from his hand. You can lead a horse to the Caribbean, but you can't make it party, she'd retorted, images of ducking out of the airport security line at SEATAC dancing through her head. How would he ever know, once his driver dropped her off at the airport, where she actually went or what she did?

That was before she'd known he was going to personally take her to the airport.

His lips had curled in a diabolical smile. Try me.

The list consisted of only a few lines. Five lines that guaranteed this was going to be the vacation from hell.

You must perform, participate in, or otherwise do each of the following:

ߦ Read a book for one hour at the pool or on the beach

ߦ Get a massage

ߦ Have a drink on the beach at sunset

ߦ Go to a party

ߦ Take the day tour to Paradise Island

Unbelievable.

She shook her head, her stomach clenching at the injustice of being required to comply with the unreasonable list of demands. But apparently she was going to have to. He was demanding evidence. Solid, concrete, no-two-ways-about-it evidence. She grimaced as she drew from her purse the antique-looking disposable camera Brett had forced into her hand along with the note. The last time she'd seen one of these was ten years ago, a tacky party favor at her cousin Tiffany's wedding reception.

ߦ You will take a picture of yourself performing each of these activities, and bring back some item visible in the picture

But the last line was the kicker.

P.S. The owner of the resort I'm sending you to is a friend of mine. I've asked him to make sure you have an enjoyable stay.

Brett was having her watched. Damn, he was good. Which was why she was, in fact, on this plane going to St. John's.

Stephanie imagined that most other people wouldn't have a problem with anything on this list. If she were honest with herself, there was some small part of her that wouldn't mind getting that massage. Sitting for an hour by the pool doing basically nothing sounded like pure torture though, and she wasn't much of a drinker. Not since her college days, at least. Parties were something she avoided as much as possible, since they almost always involved fending off uninvited male attention.

She really hadn't had time to think about men for the last several years. She'd had a one-track mind and that track was all about succeeding in her career. She had three older, already successful, brothers to catch up with and, more importantly, to pass. Getting distracted with dating and sex and all the drama that came with it was at the bottom of her to-do list.

What about love? A little voice whispered at the back of her mind.

Stephanie shuddered. God, she hated that voice. It came from the weakest part of her, the part that dreamed about love and weddings and happily ever after. She kept it locked away along with other childhood fantasies like fairies and unicorns. She usually managed to squelch it before it could get through. Maybe stress was getting to her.

Slamming that door in her mind, she firmly took the reins of her destiny into her hands. That partnership belonged to her. All she had to do was get through the next five days and four nights.

* * * *

Okay, I am Officially in Hell.

It was certainly hot enough out here in the Caribbean sun to qualify. She pulled the brim of her floppy straw hat further over her face and squirmed on the padded lounge beside one of the resort's picture-perfect pools.

Everything about this resort was picture perfect, and she hated it. She did. Right from the moment she'd arrived in the surprisingly comfortable Jeep that had shuttled her from the airport. How could she enjoy this jewel of a resort,