Love Lost and Found Read Free Page B

more despondent. “Crap. It’s the wind and
     the desalinated water in the showers and the lack of conditioner.”
    “McCashypants isn’t going to be looking at your hair.” George took her by the hands.
     “He’ll take one look at your smile and your other”—George flicked his eyes up and
     down her body—“assets, and you’ll have him eating out of your hand. Maybe feed him
     grapes rather than mango though, darling. Much less messy.”
    The laugh bubbled out of her as though she’d released the cork of a champagne bottle
     and, at the same moment, a shaft of sunlight reflected through the glass and filled
     the world with gold. “What on earth do I care about my hair? Look where we are,” she
     said and George smiled.
    “That’s my girl. Although when you’re done with Cashypants we’ll make you up a hot
     oil treatment. It’s only olive oil, but with a dash of argan goodness. It’ll make
     your locks lush, my love. Don’t tell anyone else, or they’ll all want a go.” He patted
     her on the shoulder and sashayed out the door.
    At least a hot oil treatment would make her feel as though she was being pampered,
     sort of. The quieter pace of the cruise ship job was supposed to be relaxing, invigorating,
     and memory-enhancing, but with Captain A-hole on the warpath, she was finding it anything
     but. Closing her eyes, she searched, as she did every day, for something that might
     have walked quietly into her memory overnight. Nothing. The last five years were still
     locked in the white-walled, soundproof box.
    “You’d better be a stress-free win, Cashypants,” she muttered. “I’m not sure I have
     the patience for anyone too pushy today.” Maybe he’d be an easy touch, some nice old
     bloke who just needed a quick flutter of the eyelashes to whip out his wallet and
     support Adventurer Cruises, buy a couple hundred shares or whatever Captain A-hole
     was hoping for. George was right—if she could woo this guy, life was going to get
     a whole lot better. “We better make sure you look presentable, then,” she told herself
     and trot-ran back to her stateroom.
    “Nooo.” Standing in front of the mirror, she took in the mess—no, George was right,
     the nest that was her hair. Not to mention the red flush that made her freckles look more
     spotty than sun-kissed. With the entire contents of her cosmetics bag strewn on the
     bed, she almost gave up, then caught sight of the picture of her parents she had beside
     her bed and straightened. She could do this. Today was just one day in the rest of
     her life. “Moisturizer is almost the same as conditioner,” she told herself hopefully
     and grabbed the bottle.
    “Not perfect, but better,” she admitted ten minutes later. The facial moisturizer
     she’d combed through her hair wasn’t exactly meant for the job, but it’d done the
     trick and her hair now sat in a calmer topknot, the ends only curling out around the
     edges rather than threatening to conduct electricity for the whole ship. The same
     moisturizer smoothed her face, too, and she no longer looked as flustered as a teenage
     prom virgin. In fact, she didn’t look half bad. The dark navy of her uniform shirt
     accentuated the primrose blue of her eyes, and with her hair all pulled back her cheekbones
     stood out as they were supposed to. “As long as he doesn’t make me laugh, we’re sorted,”
     she told her reflection, trying not to let the sight of her wonky eyetooth dismay
     her. “He might be into vamp chicks anyway.”
    Tucking her shirt tighter into her uniform slacks, she burst out the door and trot-ran
     up the three flights of stairs and two corridors back toward the upper decks.

    “In trouble again?” Jeremy, the head of security who shared Felicity’s love of smart
     retorts, leaned on the railing just next to the doors to the bridge. She looked into
     his smoky gray eyes and wondered whether today might be the day she followed up on
     his