Game Over. Fern Michaels

      ZEBRA BOOKS

       KENSINGTON PUBLISHING CORP.

       http://www.kensingtonbooks.com

      ZEBRA BOOKS are published by

      Kensington Publishing Corp.

       119 West 40^th Street New York, NY 10018

      Copyright © 2010 by MRK Productions

      Fern Michaels is a Registered Trademark of First Draft, Inc.

      All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

      Zebra and the Z logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.

      ISBN: 978-1-4201-1925-1

      Contents

      Chapter 1

      Chapter 2

      Chapter 3

      Chapter 4

      Chapter 5

      Chapter 6

      Chapter 7

      Chapter 8

      Chapter 9

      Chapter 10

      Chapter 11

      Chapter 12

      Chapter 13

      Chapter 14

      Chapter 15

      Chapter 16

      Chapter 17

      Chapter 18

      Chapter 19

      Chapter 20

      Chapter 21

      Chapter 22

      Chapter 23

      Epilogue

      Chapter 1

      The newlyweds looked at each other. Myra was the first to burst out laughing. Charles, looking sheepish, finally grinned and then laughed along with his wife.

      “Wearing these silly flowered clothes under all this glorious sunshine, sipping ridiculous drinks with little umbrellas in them, isn’t doing it for me, darling,” Myra said. There was now a smile on her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

      “We have to suck it up, old girl. This is a ten-day honeymoon, compliments of our chicks, so we cannot return to the mountain until our time here in the Cayman Islands is up. Having said that, what would you like to do when we finish these drinks that are as silly as the clothes we’re decked out in?”

      Myra adjusted her oversize sunglasses. “We’ve already walked five miles on the beach. We had our morning swim. We had breakfast and lunch. We gathered shells. Unless you want to build a sand castle, I suggest we meander back to Mr. Stu Franklin’s island paradise, where we can sit on the lanai and sip a scotch and soda. In four hours it will be time for dinner. Oh, goody, I can’t wait!”

      “Who knew a honeymoon could be so deadly?” Charles smiled.

      Myra giggled like a schoolgirl as she linked her arm with Charles’s for the trek back through the sand to their honeymoon cottage.

      Thirty minutes later Charles made a low, sweeping bow when he said, “Our honeymoon abode awaits us, Mrs. Martin.”

      Myra tilted her head to the side and looked at the thatched-roof cottage. It was quaint, the thatching covering a red-tiled roof. A Hansel and Gretel island house. It was more than comfortable, with wonderful cross ventilation, billowing curtains, humming ceiling fans, comfortable furniture, and state-of-the-art appliances in the kitchen. The bathroom was a modern wonder, with colored glass, beautiful tile, and a whirlpool tub, along with a double shower with eighteen showerheads. The only downside was there was no television, radio, or telephone.

      The lanai was filled with hibiscus and every other colorful island plant. A parrot came by from time to time and chatted them up with his seven-word vocabulary. As Charles had put it, “If we were twenty years old and on our first honeymoon, I’d vote never to leave this place.” Myra had seconded his assessment.

      “What shall we do now, old girl?” Charles asked his wife as he led her around to the lanai. He fluffed the cushions on the chaise lounge that was big enough for two people.

      A sour expression on her face, Myra said, “What we’ve been doing every day since we got here, take a nap. I’m napped out, Charles. I want to go home.”

      “Annie said they were going to turn the cable car off so we can’t go back. Dear