Part Three – Chocolate Cake

"Well? How did it go? What did ol' Rigid-Britches have to say?"

I nearly jumped out my skin as a raggedy-figure emerged from a doorway and grabbed me by the arm. Sparrow. In disguise as a beggar. "I thought we agreed to meet at that bar. What was it called? The Bearded Boar?"

"Aye, we did, but ye took longer than I expected." He pulled me close and kissed me lightly on the lips. "I was worried I might have to organize a rescue."

"We need to get you off the street," I said. "Norrington's got a real hard- on for you. What did you do? Boink his wife?"

"He's not married," Sparrow told me, with a smile as mysterious as the Mona Lisa's. "Poor chap was engaged, but it was short-lived."

"And you had something to do with it," I guessed.

"Me? Heaven's no. Would never entangle myself in such a tawdry turn of events." He tsk'ed at me and then steered me down another street. None of the businesses had names, but they did have pictures. We stopped in front of a place that advertised under a picture of a horseshoe. "Of course, I do know who broke up poor Norrie's engagement. He's right in here."

With that, Sparrow shoved me through the door. A smorgasbord of smells hit me at once. Molten metal. Farm animal. Hay.

The horseshoe guy's back was to me and he was so intent on hammering a horseshoe, he didn't hear us come in. Sparrow waltzed right up to the horseshoe guy and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hullo, whelp."

"Gyah!" Whelp dropped the red-hot horseshoe onto his foot. "Owwww! What the --? Jack!? What are you doing here?"

"Stephanie Plum, may I introduce Will Turner?"

Will Turner was hotter than the red-hot horseshoe singeing his boot. Dark wavy hair. Soulful brown eyes. A body to die for. Lula would have been humping his leg in a heartbeat. Me? I just gawked.

Turner took my hand and pressed it to his lips. "A pleasure, Miss Plum. Jack? I trust there's a good story to be told if you're here in Port Royal."

"Aye," Sparrow said, "There is. But I'm sure the little woman would love to hear it, too."

"Of course. You must have dinner with us," Turner agreed, flashing a smile that could melt Alaska. "Elizabeth will be pleased to see you again."

Married. It figured. The hot guys were always taken. Then again, my dance card was pretty full between Sparrow, Morelli and Ranger.

"No need to look so disappointed, love," Sparrow said, swatting me lightly on the butt. "Ye've got the biggest prize of all, Captain Jack Sparrow, savvy?"

I rolled my eyes skyward.

"Charming, isn't she," Sparrow crowed at Will.

As much as I was enjoying the scenery, I wanted to get back to the Black Pearl and talk to Diesel. "I'm going to have to take a rain check on dinner."

Sparrow raised an inquisitive eyebrow. "Norrington?"

"Diesel."

Sparrow groaned loudly. "Not again."

"He had news."

"Unlike the last ten times," Sparrow complained. "Bringin' ye doughnuts and those pills and just poppin' in to say hello."

Those pills were my birth control pills. When I thought Sparrow was just a hallucination, I didn't worry about birth control. Once Diesel told me I'd really been hurled through time, I sent him on a mission. I figured if he could bring doughnuts, he could make sure I didn't return home with any unexpected surprises. As for popping in to say hello, well, Diesel had been doing a pretty good impersonation of the Great Gazoo when he dropped in on Fred Flintstone, although I drew the line at him referring to Sparrow or me as 'Dum-Dum.'

I shifted from one foot to the other and shot Sparrow a look. "This is different."

"It can wait," he said, firmly.

"I don't think so. He showed up during my meet with Norrington. I had to pretend Norrington was having a hallucination. The poor guy probably ran straight for the liquor cabinet after I left."

Sparrow's stared at me. Finally, he sucked in a deep breath, exhaled and shook his head. The beads in his dreads clicked together softly. "I've said it before and I daresay I'll say it again. Ye scare me, woman. Ye scare me overmuch."

"I need to hear what Diesel has to say."

"I know ye do, pet," Sparrow said, gently. "But it can keep. Come meet Elizabeth. Have some dinner. Will, do ye know if there's cake?"

"Cake?" Turner, who'd been completely flabbergasted by our exchange, now looked hopelessly lost. "I believe there might be. Yes. Yes. Chocolate, I think."

"Chocolate cake, love," Sparrow wheedled. "Ye wouldn't want to pass up chocolate cake, would you?"

Damn him for knowing my weakness. Cake helps me think. My parents are Hungarian and Italian, which means I've got pale skin, blue eyes, curly brown hair and a metabolism that lets me eat cake and still button the top snap on my Levis. "All right. Dinner. But I can't guarantee that Diesel's not going to get impatient and drop by."

Turner smiled uncertainly. "I'm sure we can set another place if your friend arrives, Miss Plum."

"Then it's settled," Sparrow said, grabbing my hand and squeezing firmly. "Dinner. And you, love, will behave yourself. No setting the table on fire or shooting the main course."

I should never have told him about dinner at my parents' house.

A/N – A hearty thanks to Cinnamongrrl for "Rigid-Britches" - it was just too good to pass up.