Jack & Jilted by Cathy Yardley Page A

a solution here, she thought as she took out a pad of paper amidst the piles strewed on her parents’ kitchen table. She just had to find it.
    Then, out of nowhere, one part of her conversation with Gerald hit her.
    So I’ll pay for the cruise….
    Which meant that Gerald had stiffed Jack, as well. And she got the feeling Jack was in no position to lose a couple thousand dollars.
    She felt immediately guilty, even though Jack had persuaded her to go ahead with the trip. Of course, Jack had a lot better chance of breaking even than she did. If he did some things differently…advertised differently, made a few changes, he would probably not only break even, but do very well financially.
    And then, the smallest ribbon of hope started to curl through her. He could do well if he had the right partner. And she had an idea of just who that partner could be.
    JACK WINCED, EVEN though the chef he was interviewing over the phone couldn’t see it. “Wow. That much, huh?”
    “I think you’ll find my services well worth it,” the applicant said haughtily.
    For that damned much money, the guy had better be serving the food on gold platters, Jack thought. “Well, I’m afraid that’s out of the price range I was hoping to offer.”
    The chef gave a considering sniff. “What range did you have in mind?”
    Jack said it and then winced again when the guy laughed. “Hey, you get to cook on a private yacht,” Jack added defensively. “A lot of people find that to be a perk.”
    “Well, I think I’ll keep looking,” the chef said dismissively, and then hung up.
    Jack crossed the name off his list. Most of the calls he’d dealt with this week had been more polite, at least, even if the outcome had always been the same. He’d gotten lucky when he’d found Kenneth—a young guy fresh out of culinary school and a cooking genius. He would try the school again, but they were midsemester, and he needed a warm body ASAP to cook for his next charter clients. They were already being difficult, right up to writing specifically what menu they wanted and what sort of sheets. If he tried to pass off grilled cheese sandwiches on them, he got the feeling they would not only not pay him, they’d probably bring him to court for false advertising or something.
    Why couldn’t they all be like Chloe? he thought with a note of anxiety. She had been the perfect passenger, the perfect client…just great to have around.
    Then the mere thought of her brought up a whole stew of emotions that he’d been trying to keep buried, so he quickly switched gears. At least he’d found a masseuse, also a recently graduated type who was willing to take a lower rate in exchange for “experience.” He hadn’t met her, but he hoped she’d work out. He’d been lucky with Helen, too. The new masseuse had made it quite clear that she didn’t clean things—and since he wasn’t quite sure how he was going to pay for the chef at this point, he figured he’d be cleaning cabins by himself until his financial situation improved.
    Well, idiot, you’re the one who wanted his own boat.
    He sighed, ignoring his conscience’s mental castigation. Yes, he had dreamed of having his own private charter yacht. He loved his life…most of the time. But he had to admit the life of a sea captain was a lot less sexy and free than he’d originally thought back when he was a teenager in military school. Then, the thought of having his own ship and doing what he wanted when he wanted had seemed like heaven on earth.
    Little did he know that heaven apparently required a lot of money and a butt load of paperwork.
    Stay focused, he counseled himself. He could bitch and moan later. The important thing now was making sure this cruise went off without a hitch so he could get paid, so he could get the bank off his back and quiet some of his more wily creditors. The worst being the loan holder for the Rascal.
    As much as he might complain about the problems and hassles of ownership,