by Natasha Boyd
“Really?” I asked skeptically.
“Really.” He tossed them to me. “They press on the Nei Kuan acupressure point on the inner wrist. My ex-wife swears by them. And she’s right about most things.”
I felt an odd smile cross my face.
He waved a hand. “Yep. I’m the sad sack who’s still in love with his ex-wife. Sue me. Anyway, I’d go for ginger tea and a bracelet over the anti-nausea meds because the meds will knock you right out. And from what I understand you have … a date, tonight?” He gave me a look with an eyebrow raised.
“Can’t keep a secret on a boat,” I mumbled. Clearly word had spread fast. Thanks, Andrea. “Is it weird? I mean is everyone okay with this … development?” What did I call it? A two-day booty call with their boss?
“It shouldn’t matter to you what we think.” He rummaged around in the vegetable basket, pulling out some ginger.
I lifted a shoulder. “But—”
“We’re happy for him. Trust me. Just … be careful.”
“Careful?” It was sweet of Chef to worry about me getting hurt. The boat leaned and my stomach complained. I pulled a bracelet off the card display backing and put it on. Better than nothing.
“He’s been hurt,” Chef went on. “He’s closed off. I know it because I … well, I recognize it. If he opens up to you, please take it for the gift it is and don’t take advantage.”
My eyebrows pressed together. “Of course.” I swallowed, feeling silly now I’d thought his concern was for me. And almost guilty, even though I’d done nothing wrong.
Chef sliced the ginger root. “You know that song ‘Graceland?’ By Paul Simon?”
“Vaguely.’’
He turned on the fancy coffee maker and set out a mug to fill with hot water.
He held up a bottle and inspected the label. “Honey?”
“Uh. Sure. Thank you.”
“Lavender honey.”
“Oh, I love that. I thought we were out.”
“I hid some. It’s from the farm next to Pascale’s estate. The place is famous for lavender. You should see it all in bloom. Bloody gorgeous. Anyway, you ever listened to the lyrics?” He dumped the chopped ginger and a generous spoonful of honey into a mug.
“To ‘Graceland’?”
“Yeah. It’s about this dad, a single dad, and his kid. On a road trip. And he says …” He looked up in thought. “Hmm. I’ll butcher it. Hot water’s ready.” He put the mug under the hot water spout and filled it. Then he gave it a stir, took out the spoon and put a saucer over the top. “Needs to steep. It says something like when you’ve lost love, it’s like everyone can see inside your heart and see that you’re blown apart.”
I swallowed, my throat thick.
“Anyway, it’s true,” Chef went on. “It feels like everyone can see your damage, so you brick that hole closed in whatever way you can, with whatever you can. And it’s not always a sound structure, if you know what I mean.”
“I—”
“Hey you,” Andrea said, hurrying up the stairs. “Just got the downstairs bedding out of the dryer and remade the beds.” Then she looked at me and back at Chef and back at me.
“He knows about Xavier,” I said. “You told him?”
“I had to, remember? You have a dinner date in Calvi tonight.”
“Oh yeah.” I grinned. “Sorry, my mind is a bit …”
“Mushy? I bet. That was some kiss.”
“It was, wasn’t it?” I tried to rein in my smile by biting down on my bottom lip. But there was a bubble of giddiness inside that wouldn’t be kept down.
Chef whistled and waved a hand as he tidied up his small work station.
“I have a few minutes,” Andrea said. “You want to go sit in the living room? Or we can go down to your old cabin. It’s actually better to be lower in the boat on days like this, the rocking isn’t so bad.”
Chef took the saucer off the top of the mug. Steam rose. “Have at it.”
‘Thank you so much,” I told him, accepting the mug gratefully.
“Just remember what I said, yeah? Be careful.”
“I will.”
I followed Andrea downstairs. My bags were back in my room. “You said my old cabin, and it gave me an odd feeling like it was assumed I’d be in Mr. Pascale’s room tonight.”
“Okay, two things,” Andrea said, flopping down on the edge of my bed. “One, yes, you probably will, oh my God. But I thought you might need your own space if you want it.”
“You’re a good friend.”
“I know we’re new friends, but yeah, I feel the same way.”
“I miss Tabitha and Meredith. But having you here totally makes up for it. Except that you are bearing witness to my ex-boss’ booty call. Which is not ideal.”
“Nah. I already chatted with the crew. Paco will stay on, but the rest of us, if it’s okay with Mr. P, are going to take two nights off in Calvi.”
My belly flipped, and I was filled with gratitude. “That’s nice of everyone.”
“It’s gorgeous there. And a bit different from the usual hoity-toity Riviera scene. And a break is welcome, trust me.”
“You said two things when we got down here? One I should have my own cabin. And two?” I took a careful sip of the hot ginger tea I was carrying and set it down on the dresser on a leather mat designed to stop things sliding off the varnished surface.
“Ah right. Two, you’re not going to call him Mister Pascale now that, you know, you’re …?” She waggled an eyebrow.
I chuckled. “Right. I guess I’m supposed to call him Xavier. I mean he’s asked me to before. It feels weird.”
“Not weirder than,” she lowered her voice to a sultry moan, “‘oh, yes, Mister Pascale—”’
“Stop!” I hissed and snorted a shocked laugh. “Shhh, oh my God.” I gave Andrea a playful slap on her arm, my cheeks burning. “Gross. Makes it sound like he’s my teacher or something.” I shuddered, still laughing but also feeling more than seasick. An image of Tabitha’s disapproving expression floated through my brain.
“Sorry.” She bit her lip in an exaggerated grimace. “Out of line.”
“A bit. I know, it’s weird. Look.” I sobered and took another careful sip of tea. “This feels … scary. And real. Nothing has even happened yet. Nothing irreversible, anyway. Apart from that kiss, which was, phew. But the chances of someone being hurt are high. Me. I’ll just say it. The chances of me being hurt are high.” I blew out a measured breath. “I’m in over my head. So I’m probably going to play things close to my chest. I feel as if sharing it will make it more real, you know? Please don’t … please don’t be offended.”
She reached out and squeezed my hand. “I understand. You can trust me. I’m fond of you both. And to be honest, I’ve wondered how I’d feel if this happened. My allegiance is to him because of history and circumstance. But I’m rooting for you. I’m rooting for you both.”
“It’s only two days.”
“It’s more.”
“Please.” My stomach clenched. Seasickness or panic? “Please don’t say that. I can’t … I can’t afford to think that.” Xavier’s warning to protect my heart came back to me. “I’ll be disappointed. And I shouldn’t be. I have a life to go back to. This can’t be more.”
She reached out and took my hand again. “Keep an open mind, yeah? And maybe an open heart?”
“It’s too open already. This relationship feels like juggling with newly sharpened knives.”
“And I take it you’re not a good juggler.”
“No shit.” I took another larger drink of ginger tea. My stomach was feeling better already.
“All right. Well, I’ll leave you to relax. I’m going to pack a few things up and call ahead to get a hotel room. A whole day off tomorrow where I know no one and have nothing to do? I’m salivating.”
“Do you all go and stay in the same hotel when you have time off the boat?”
“Not if I can help it. Besides, Rod and Chef
both know people in Calvi I think, so I’m sure they’ll get themselves sorted. We should be there in a couple of hours.”
We stood and I gave her a hug. “Thank you,” I said. “Enjoy your time off. And be safe.”
“Always.”
After Andrea left, I partially unpacked and finished my cup. I didn’t want to assume I’d be spending the whole night with Xavier. And even if I did, I wasn’t planning on hanging out amongst his dead wife’s things. Just the thought that her memories surrounded him up there was enough to make me wonder for the millionth time what the hell I was doing. Despite the rocking, I decided to take a quick a shower, shaved everywhere that needed it, debated my bikini area and decided the risk of messing up, cutting myself, or ingrown hairs in the wrong place was guidance enough to simply neaten things up.
The boat lurched suddenly, then fell, my stomach hollowing to zero gravity. I crashed against the shower wall and slipped across the fiber glass. I caught myself on the sink, but not before I left a razor cut on my thigh. The plastic razor clattered to the floor, along with everything on the counter. I belatedly registered the sound of things in the room falling, my suitcase I’d left on the edge of the bed. Probably the tea cup. Just how big of a wave had we encountered and would there be another? My stomach tightened in fear and then rebelled. Shit.
I heaved, just making it to the toilet bowl before retching up my insides.
Naked, wet, and shivering, my stomach emptied, my eyes watering and throat burning. Reaching up, I grabbed a white fluffy towel, pulling it down to cover myself as I sat back, trying to catch my breath. My heart pounded. My toiletries bag had fallen beside me. I weakly squirted some toothpaste on my brush and reached behind me for water from the still running shower. I cleaned my mouth as best I could to get rid of the taste and spat in the toilet again and flushed it.
Ah shit. This was no good. I’d taken the nausea bracelet off to shower, and it now lay beside me on the floor. I pathetically worked it back on. I’d vomited up my strength it seemed. I leaned my head back on the shower stall and closed my eyes, my body feeling weak. The boat rocked again and my equilibrium went with it. I groaned, willing myself not to vomit again. There was nothing left.
“Josephine?”
I cracked an eye just as Xavier came barreling around the corner of the bathroom. “Merde!” he yelled. Then he was on me, trying to pick me up.
“I’m okay,” I protested weakly.
He babbled in French, turning the shower off, and in a display of super human strength managed to pick me up off the bathroom floor, slippery and wet and tangled in a towel. And underneath naked. Very naked.
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Embarrassment crawled over my skin as he lay me down against the pillows on the bed with jerky panicked movements.
His hands raced over me. Then indicated the blood on the towel. “You’re bleeding. Where are you hurt?”
I grabbed at the towel and tried to keep myself covered. The cut was high on my thigh. It was a graze really, now that the blood had been wiped clean.
“I’m fine. It’s nothing. The razor slipped.” I gestured to the area of the cut.
His hand shoved the towel aside and revealed the tiny wound for a second, before he then covered his face with his other hand. “Pardon. I’m sorry. I panicked. I thought you were hurt.”
“I slipped. Then I got sick. But I’m okay.”
“You are seasick?”
I nodded and took a moment to take stock of my body. “I think so. But I feel better now.” Nothing like being rescued by a hunky Frenchman to sort your body’s priorities out. Seasick? What? Short memory.
“You feel better?” he asked.
I nodded.
He squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders slumping. “I thought—”
My fingers reached out and curved around his upper arm and squeezed. I wanted to sit up and hold him to me—to offer him comfort from whatever nightmare had just surfaced in his memories.
I became aware of his hand on my thigh and of my towel, which was in danger of baring all. I couldn’t see how much of me below the waist was revealed. My attention fell to the air cooling the damp skin between my legs and realized it was probably a lot. He was being a gentleman not to look, and I forced myself not to try and cover up lest I draw more attention. Nonetheless, heat pooled, my skin prickling.
Then his eyes trailed downward. A dark lock of hair fell across is forehead. His lips parted as a soft puff of air escaped, then closed as he gave a heavy swallow.
He looked up at me and caught my gaze, his denim eyes burning, pupils large, worry ebbing. His expression—so desperate, so vulnerable, so hungry—made my breath falter. Then he glanced at the open door.
He got up, his hand sliding off my skin, and went to the door. He closed it.
It shut with a soft snick. And he slowly turned the catch, locking us in.
“Is this okay?” he rasped.
I didn’t think he was asking about the closed door this time.
Chapter Thirty-Three
XAVIER
I turned the latch, heart pounding. My skin was too tight for the energy and want pounding through my body. I counted to five, waiting for the sensation to pass, with no luck. I’d been on a call when the boat tipped forty-five degrees with no warning and plummeted into the space left by a fast rolling wave. There were crashes and thumps as everything that wasn’t secured went flying in every room of the boat, including my laptop. Then I’d heard Rod shouting and cold fear clutched me. I’d left Josie at the railing.
Laptop forgotten and phone abandoned, I’d bolted to the deck. No Josie. Rod was clipped on, trying to rescue a chair that had flipped from the upper deck and caught by a leg on the lower railing. I should help, but— “Josie?” I yelled. Rod’s eyes widened and he shook his head. Logical thought reasoned with panic as I went through the galley and was directed by Chef who was on hands and knees in a mess of plates down to Josie’s cabin. Thank fuck.
But then I swear, my fucking heart stopped. Reason was overtaken, and all I saw was Arriette in a crumpled heap, unconscious. Bleeding where she’d hit her head. Evening dress covered in vomit.
I screamed a curse, my throat tight with remembered fear.
No. This was Josie. Mon dieu. She was hurt but she blinked up at me. And God, I hoped I hadn’t scared her.
But now, minutes later, my heart was still thumping and adrenaline was ebbing, being replaced by something else. I was at the door, locking us in. I squeezed my fists tight. I wanted her so bad. I turned from the door just as she whispered my name. “Xavier.”
It was foreign from her lips.
She reached a hand up. “Come here.”
I stalked to the end of the bed. She was as I’d left her, towel barely covering anything. Smooth, long legs, the skin like silk where I’d touched her inner thigh. Her hair was a damp mess, cascading over the pillow.
She shifted her legs apart a fraction and the towel rose. A noise broke free from my throat.
“Did you just growl at me?” she asked, her voice breathy. “You sound like a wolf.”
I pressed a knee on the bed. “I was going to take you to dinner first,” I said.
“Except it looks like I’ll be your dinner.” The corner of her luscious mouth tilted up as I chuckled in response, grateful for the tension valve release. Her expression grew serious again. “This is just sex, right? Two days. So let’s throw the rules out the window.”
Swallowing down an unexpected denial in my throat and leaving her just sex question unanswered, my fingers began unbuttoning the cuffs of my linen shirt. One wrist, then the other. She was right. Just sex. Two days. It was what I wanted. What I needed. After that things could return to the way they were before. The buttons worked loose down my front, and then I peeled the shirt off.
Josie licked her lips, her cheeks flushing pink as her gaze trailed downward.
Guided by the want in her eyes, I flicked the buttons on my shorts open and peeled them dow
n my legs.
There was no hiding what I wanted from her now. I was hard and aching, my briefs no match against the strain.
She sat up and the towel fell to her waist, revealing her milky white tan-lined breasts tipped with mouthwatering tan nipples that puckered and hardened under my gaze. Jesus.
“I have to warn you,” I choked out as burning need dragged down my spine, and then held me in its steel grip. I was lightheaded. “It’s been a while. And I’ve been fantasizing about those.” Among other things.
Grinning and leaning forward, she tucked her legs behind her and took a hands-and-knees move toward me.
My gaze raced down her pale lower back to the curve of her ass where the suntan line ended in lily white soft globes. “Ton cul …” I breathed.
“My ass?” she asked, amused, reaching for my cock. Her eyes glowed luminous in the soft glow of afternoon light that flooded through the tiny window. God, she was beautiful.
I nodded just as she palmed me through the fabric, and my head fell back on a groan of unsatisfying relief. Grabbing her hand as she dipped inside the band of my underwear, I stopped her. “I wasn’t joking. It’s been a while.” As much as I wanted that mouth of hers on me, my hands sifted into her hair and I leaned down to kiss her. She tasted like mint toothpaste and need. Her hands clasped my wrists where I held her head. She rose up, still kissing me and wrapped her arms around me, holding me close. Her tits mashed up against my bare chest, the sensation of being skin to skin setting off goosebumps.
“You feel so good,” she whispered against my mouth.
“Oui,” I agreed.
Wrapping my hand around her waist, I picked her up and moved her back up the bed. Then I stood and took off my last remaining piece of clothing. My eyes feasted on her naked form. Her breasts glowed soft and pale against the rest of her tanned skin. “I don’t know where to begin.” I crawled over her, dipping down to lick around the stiff peak of her nipple before drawing it into my mouth.
She arched and whimpered, fingers scraping through my hair to hold me to her breast. “There’s good.”