Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

FERN MICHAELS is the USA Today and New York Times bestselling author of the Sisterhood, Men of the Sisterhood, and Godmothers series, as well as dozens of other novels and novellas. There are over one-hundred ten million copies of her books in print. Fern Michaels has built and funded several large day-care centers in her hometown, and is a passionate animal lover who has outfitted police dogs across the country with special bulletproof vests. She shares her home in South Carolina with her four dogs and a resident ghost named Mary Margaret. Visit her website at www.fernmichaels.com.

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Game Over

ZEBRA BOOKS

Chapter One

"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 heart, neither one of us is capable of hiking up that mountain."

"Speak for yourself, Charles. I don't care if it takes me three days to climb to the top. I want to go home."

"Bloody hell, let's pack, and we're out of here. I'll call Snowden to arrange our departure."

Myra was off the chaise and running into the house before Charles could click on his phone. "Thank you, God. Thank you, God," she kept muttering over and over as she threw her suitcase on the bed and, willy-nilly, tossed their clothes in. She rushed to the bathroom and ran her arm across the vanity, and in one fell swoop, the contents went into a small leather satchel.

Done!

"We're good to go, Charles," Myra said breathlessly. "How soon can we leave?"

"Forty minutes!"

"Details, darling, details."

"I just called for a taxi to take us to the airport. We will have private transportation to the mainland, and from there, Annie's Gulfstream will take us home. We will have a two-hour wait once we hit the mainland, but I didn't think you'd care about that any more than I do. Does this work for you, old girl?"

"It does, Charles. It really does. Oh, I feel almost giddy. Dear, you aren't ... you know ... disappointed that our honeymoon was so ... boring, are you?"

"Myra, our honeymoon was deadly boring, but thank you for being so kind. By the way, I'm glad you pushed the envelope. Now, we have to come up with some believable story for our early return. A story the girls will believe."

"They won't believe anything we tell them. You know that. They're going to know, Charles. We'll be honeymoon duds!"

Tongue in cheek, Charles said, "And this bothers you, my dear?"

Myra thought about the question. "Annie will be relentless!"

"Well, we're going to have a good many hours to come up with a story that will work for Annie. And the others."

"Can we make it risqu, darling? Annie won't accept anything less."

"I'll put everything I have into it," Charles drawled.

Myra sighed happily. Her world was looking more wonderful by the minute.

Chapter Two

The women were lying in various positions on the floor, glaring and cursing at the evil-looking pole in the middle of the room, the only sign that possibly the pole was the source of exercise. The psychedelic lighting inside the pole added to the snarling that was going on.

Kathryn Lucas rolled over on the floor and groaned aloud. "I am going to take an ax to that damn thing. Then I'm going to kill you, Mom!"

Annie eyed the pole, which she and the others had not been able to conquer. "I hate a quitter," she mumbled.

"Quitter! Quitter!" Nikki shrieked. "Is that what you said? Look at us!" she continued to shriek. "We're black and blue from top to bottom. My butt is so sore, I'm not going to be able to sit down for a month! I am one giant cramp. You better say something, Annie, or I'm going to help Kathryn strangle you."

Annie sniffed. "Obviously, all of you are out of shape. Pole dancing is an art. You need to pay closer attention to the tutorial. I'm way older than any of you, and I've made the most progress. Your performance is pathetic! Now, we're going to get to work and conquer this goddamn pole or die trying. Up and on your feet! I want to see all of you on your feet, and this time turn the music up. We are not, I repeat, we are not going to allow this pole to conquer us. Shame on all of you! We're women. We're supposed to be able to do anything. Wusses!"

"I hate you, Annie," Yoko cried pitifully. "I cannot do it."

"You will do it. That's an order!" Annie said as she massaged her thighs, grimacing in pain. "Now, let's see some agility here! You're up, Alexis."

Alexis struggled to her feet, her expression mirroring Kathryn's as she stumbled to the stripper pole. She swiped her hands on her shorts, gritted her teeth, and reached out to the pole. The muscles in her upper arms bulged. The others held their breath as she leaped at the pole and got smacked right in the nose for her effort. She slid to the floor and started to cry. She rolled over to get out of the way as Isabelle, her face grim, shouted something obscene as she took a run at the pole, grabbed it, and swung around, her long legs wrapping around the pole. The beat of the frenzied music seemed to give her some impetus as she whirled around and around, then fell to the floor in a miserable heap.

"Bravo!" Annie shouted excitedly.

"Screw...