by Fiona Harper
‘Zoe?’
She grimaced, her face turned away from him. Her big, fat mouth had got her into hot water again. When would she ever learn?
‘You know… Just plans… Things…’
‘What sort of things?’
He wasn’t going to let this go, was he? And her insides were starting to twitch, to tell her she shouldn’t be such a coward, not when he’d opened up to her.
She moved away from him a little, sat up straighter. ‘Like weddings…’
‘You had a wedding planned?’
His voice was soft and sympathetic, delicious in the anonymous darkness. Could she? Could she confide in this man—a man so like the one who’d broken her heart?
‘My love-rat groom phoned one of my bridesmaids from his stag do and confessed his undying love for her.’
There went that mouth of hers again. Really, she was going to have to get herself a muzzle one of these days.
Damien muttered his judgement on her errant fiancé in the form of a rude name.
‘Thank you,’ Zoe said. And she meant it. Suddenly she was very glad that Damien managed to say and do the right thing ninety-nine per cent of the time. The word had been perfect.
‘What about the bridesmaid?’ he asked.
Zoe sighed. ‘I have better taste in friends than I do in men, it seems. She told him to grow up, and then she did the gutsy thing by coming and telling all to me.’
She leaned back on her hands and stared up at the moonless sky.
‘It was a bit of a buzz kill, I can tell you. There was I at the karaoke bar, in full hen night regalia—net curtain veil on a headband, angel wings and L-plates—three verses into “Stand By Your Man”. I hogged the mike a bit after that, I’m afraid, Alanis Morrisette being my artiste of choice.’
She let out a little laugh but, instead of floating away on the night air, it seemed to hit the deck.
‘You don’t have to make a joke out of this, Zoe.’
She breathed in sharply through her nostrils, furiously ignoring the stinging on the backs of her eyes. ‘Actually, I do.’
Hold it in, Zoe. You can’t let it all out.
‘So, you can see why I’m not big on plans any more,’ she added.
Damien swivelled round so he was facing her. ‘You don’t ever plan to get married or have children? Don’t let one loser ruin it for you.’
One loser. Ah, if only there’d been just the one. No, Aiden had merely been the one she was stupid enough to let close enough to hurt her.
‘I’m not saying I won’t, just that I’m not setting my heart on it. I’ll just live my life and see what happens.’
Damien nodded, but his expression told her he couldn’t think of anything worse.
‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘this is supposed to be a holiday. It’s practically illegal to get maudlin.’ She stood up and rubbed the grab rail dent out of her backside. ‘I’ve found that the best way to cheer myself up is to do something new, something unexpected.’
One option was to lean into Damien and seek refuge against his shoulder again. But that would be truly pathetic, especially as he must think her a horribly sad case after her recent revelation.
The only other thing she could think of doing was to pull her cotton jersey sundress over her head, kick off her shoes and jump overboard. And that was exactly what she did.
She’d thought the water would be colder than it had been earlier in the day but, if anything, it felt warmer. Probably something to do with the ambient temperature of the air being closer to that of the water, she thought distantly as her head went under.
She opened her eyes just before she broke the surface again, kicking upwards, and at first nothing made sense. Tiny specks of bluish-green light danced around her. It was as if the stars had dropped out of the sky and had sprinkled themselves on the surface of the water like icing sugar on a cake. She laughed as soon as her mouth was above water, and then spun around, treading water arms outstretched.
‘It’s magic!’ she yelled, feeling like a kid on Christmas morning. What was this? Every time she moved the water sparkled around her, as if she were setting off miniature underwater fireworks. She stopped spinning and swam away from the boat and the lights followed, clinging to her, dancing with her. After a few strokes, she turned and trod water, looked back to the dark shadow sitting on the roof of Dream Weaver’s cabin.
‘What is this?’ she yelled, her voice musical with latent laughter.
The shadow stood up, moved to the edge of the deck. Zoe stopped laughing, closed her mouth and trod water silently. Suddenly she felt very, very serious and she didn’t know why.
* * *
Damien watched her from the deck. He hadn’t planned to stand up; he’d just been drawn to her, had moved closer without even thinking. He couldn’t take his eyes off her.
Sara would never have done this—jumped into the sea at night on a whim, relished in the natural phenomenon so totally and completely—and for once he was one hundred per cent glad that this wasn’t Sara. This moment was Zoe’s, hers and hers alone.
She’d gone still and, even though he couldn’t see her face, Damien realised she was watching him, waiting for him to speak. He gave her something better. Something unexpected.
He slipped off the T-shirt he’d thrown on over his long swimming shorts, prised his feet from his deck shoes and joined her.
She screamed as he jumped in, and then she laughed. Not the same kind of sound as a few moments earlier—this one was part shock, part nervousness—but he couldn’t help but join her in that also. He didn’t think he’d ever swum while laughing before, and he discovered it involved drinking more salt water than he’d wanted to. For some reason, that just made him laugh harder.
The water lit up around him too, linking them long before he reached her.
‘It’s phosphorescence,’ he said between deep breaths when he started to tread water beside her. ‘Tiny little bioluminescent marine life forms that react to movement.’
Zoe’s eyes grew wide. ‘All this? From plankton?’
‘Pretty much.’ He moved his arm through the water again, just to see them sparkle almost neon green. He’d seen it before, of course, tiny specs of light trailing behind a ship on a dark night sailing, but he’d never got down into the water and swum in it before—and he wouldn’t have done, if not for Zoe’s mad impulse to jump overboard.
She’d called it magic, and while his very logical and practical brain refused such definitions, part of him was starting to agree. Maybe it was the setting: the quiet, secluded bay, the stately home in the distance. Maybe it was the water, so flat that every reflection was perfect.
He stopped watching the bright flecks dancing round his fingers as he used his hands to keep himself afloat and looked at Zoe, totally absorbed in doing the same thing.
Maybe it was this woman.
Maybe she’d brought the magic with her, because he’d seen this phenomenon before but had never felt this sense of wonder.
He turned the next arm movement into a splash, dousing her with water.
She screamed. Loudly. But there was no one here to shush them, so he did it again.
‘Right!’ she spluttered. ‘You’ve asked for it.’
He discovered Zoe was a worthy opponent. She held nothing back in trying to dunk him under. But his arms were longer, always able to keep her at bay, and without the weight advantage—which she didn’t have, no matter how much she moaned about her curves—she had no hope of success.
At least, that was what he thought until she disappeared under the water and didn’t emerge again. He searched for her, backing away from the spot where they’d been splashing, hoping the telltale creatures would give her away, but…nothing.
Now Zoe wasn’t with him, the night air around him was horribly quiet. He started to get worried. Where on earth was—?
The next thing he knew, his head was under water and a four-limbed female limpet had clamped herself to his back, dragging him
down, their combined body weight doing the job that she’d hadn’t been able to achieve on her own.
He kicked hard and made some headway. She must have been holding her breath for quite some time, because suddenly she stopped fighting him and they both floated upwards.
When they broke the surface, she slid round to his side, hands locked behind his neck, ankles crossed over his opposite hip, and let him do the job of keeping them afloat. Once she’d gulped in enough air, she laughed triumphantly, letting the sound echo all the way to St Mawes.
And then there was silence again and they were staring at each other, bodies locked together, both breathing hard.
He shifted a little, brought her round so they were chest to chest, face to face. Her eyes widened and he felt her heart start to thump beneath the hand he had splayed on her ribcage.
She didn’t say anything. No quick retort to make light of the situation, to ease awkwardness. She just looked back at him, breath held now, lips parted.
This time he didn’t kiss Zoe St James because she pushed him to the end of his rope, or because an unwanted attraction had raged out of control. He didn’t even have to kiss her to shut her up.
No, this time he kissed Zoe because he wanted to.
She was hesitant at first, letting him lead, but gradually she relaxed, softened and pulled him closer by sliding her arms around his neck. It was still there, the chemistry, crackling between them, even though he made sure this time was different, that he slowed things down so the kiss was soft and achingly light. He was surprised they hadn’t lit the whole bay up with the sparks they must be generating.
Keeping both of them afloat got harder and harder, and eventually he had to break away. She instantly unhooked her legs, slid out of his arms and kicked away, going into retreat, but he caught her hand, tugged, as he started to propel himself towards the beach.
At first she resisted slightly, but no sound left her lips, no complaints arose, and then she swam with him, kicking with her legs and flapping with her free hand as he did. It wasn’t long before he found sand beneath his toes and he dug his feet in to anchor himself. Zoe floated into him and he kissed her again as soon as she was close enough, and he enjoyed the fact that, because he was a good six inches taller than her, she couldn’t reach the bottom and she had to cling on to him for support.
In fact, he decided he liked kissing Zoe St James very much. Not just because of the undeniable chemistry between them, but because, when she stopped talking and let all her barriers down like this, there was an intoxicating sweetness to her.
She kissed him slowly, almost innocently, savouring every sensation as if she couldn’t quite believe it was happening and that he was part of a delicious dream she might wake from at any second. He defied any man not to be rendered helpless by a kiss like that.
She was a surprise, this one, that was for sure. A mix of intriguing contradictions. But hadn’t she said ‘new and unexpected’ was good for the soul? And when she kissed a trail down his neck and tasted the salt on his collarbone, he decided she might have a point. He could easily get lost in this, forget about everything that had plagued him in the run-up to that torture of a wedding just a week ago.
Zoe’s lips left his shoulder and she leaned in close to his ear. ‘This isn’t part of the plan, is it? Separate holidays, remember?’ she whispered.
He moved his head so he could look at her. Her mouth was set in that familiar quirky smile, but her eyes were large and questioning. Vulnerable.
He ran the hand that had been pressed against her back, holding her to him, round to her waist, delighting in the soft curves. ‘Do you want me to stop?’ he whispered back.
She shuddered underneath his hands and, while her eyes grew even larger, she shook her head.
‘I don’t want separate holidays any more,’ he said before kissing her just below her ear. ‘That was a stupid plan.’
Her voice was breathy and barely audible when she answered. ‘Then what do you want?’
‘I want you.’ He pulled her close again, dragged his lips across hers. ‘I want a holiday with you.’
CHAPTER TEN
DAMIEN lay awake on his bunk, staring into the darkness, hardly able to see anything in the cabin on this moonless night, even though the portholes weren’t obscured. He checked his watch—three in the morning.
But he wasn’t tossing and turning on the long berth in the main cabin, taking his frustration out on his pillow or tangling himself in his sleeping bag. He was perfectly calm and relaxed. In fact, he couldn’t remember feeling this relaxed in a long time. He’d sunk straight into this serene state after the adrenalin rush brought on by kissing Zoe had worn off.
They’d eventually swum back to the boat, kissed some more, and then she’d said goodnight and retreated into her cabin, almost shyly. He got it. She was blindsided and a little scared. He supposed he should be too, but he couldn’t seem to summon up the energy.
His gaze wandered over the interior of the cabin. He was starting to be able to make out a shape here, a line there. Dream Weaver might not be the most state-of-the-art yacht on the high seas, but she was welcoming and comfortable and he’d really enjoyed sailing her for the last week. So much that he’d started to wonder if borrowing her for a couple of weekends a year was enough.
Zoe had a point. Perhaps he didn’t have to wait for his dream yacht. Perhaps he should get a ‘good enough for now’ boat, one he could moor closer to London and sail when he liked.
Ah, Zoe…
She blew him away. But she wouldn’t fit in his life long-term. Probably wouldn’t want to, but maybe that was okay too. He’d spent—no, wasted—over a year pining for a woman who’d never be his. That was where his ‘stick to the plan’ mentality had got him. He’d got so fixated on the idea of Sara he hadn’t been able to shake her loose from his head, even when he’d desperately wanted to.
Where had that plan got him romantically? Nowhere. So why had it taken him so long to work that out and decide to move on? It didn’t make sense, even to himself.
But he had decided to put the past behind him now, thankfully, and maybe this borrowed honeymoon had given him the perfect opportunity. He genuinely liked Zoe, and not just because of the strange, unexpected and rather explosive chemistry they seemed to have. She was good company, and she shook things up wherever she went.
Damien had an idea that maybe he needed a little shaking up, that maybe he’d got too entrenched in his ways in recent years, and he suspected his crewmate might just be good for him in that respect. In small doses.
So, while Zoe St James definitely wasn’t the missing jigsaw piece in his future, maybe, if she was open to the idea, she could be his ‘just for now’ girl.
* * *
Oh, heck, thought Zoe, as she got dressed the following morning, sliding a sundress on over her swimming costume. But she was smiling, and she touched a fingertip to her bottom lip, then let the hand fall away again.
What are you doing? This is insanity.
You can’t seriously be considering getting involved with this guy. He’s too… And he’s too… And you’re definitely not.
Aw, phooey. He was hot. Seriously hot. And a fabulous kisser. She might be mad not to follow this attraction wherever it may lead.
Wherever it did lead, one thing was sure: the end destination would never be an altar. And that was fine by Zoe. Thinking of Damien standing there, waiting for her, it gave her the heebie-jeebies. Too much like déjà vu. And she wasn’t making that mistake again.
No, when she finally was ready to take that step she’d choose someone like her. Someone in her own league. Someone who wouldn’t realise suddenly that he was punching way below his weight and do a flit. No. Lesson learned on that front.
But that didn’t mean she couldn’t have a little fun…
Be careful, a little voice in her head said as she opened her cabin door, pulse racing, a shoal of quicksilver fish darting around in her stomach. Put some limits on it. Set so
me ground rules for yourself.
Have a plan.
She opened her cabin door and went looking for Damien, still not quite sure how she was going to navigate the tricky line between fun and heartbreak. He was up already, his sleeping bag and pillow stowed away and the seating bench put back to normal, but there was no sign of him in the cabin. Her heart was thumping wildly now. She pulled in a breath and let it out slowly through pursed lips, and then she climbed the stairs into the cockpit.
Damien was leaning over the back of the boat, messing with the rope for the dinghy. He must have heard her coming because he turned round and gave her the most wonderful smile.
She felt herself blush furiously. What was up with that? She thought she’d given it up long ago, had decided one required a sense of shame to do such things. Even Damien had told her she had none.
‘Hi,’ she said, and found she had an almost irresistible urge to look down at her toes. She managed not to. Which was just as well because Damien’s face crinkled even further.
‘Hi.’
She felt all awkward. Didn’t know what to do… Should she go and kiss him? Shake his hand? What?
Damien saved her from further dithering by crossing the space between them, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her soundly. Zoe didn’t mind a bit. Top result as far as she was concerned. And it proved it hadn’t been some elaborate dream brought on by dodgy pub grub—that a man like him could find a girl like her desirable.
But they couldn’t stay like that all day, more’s the pity, and eventually they came up for air, made some breakfast, got ready to set sail for the day.
It hovered in the air around them all day, though, as if there was some intoxicating chemical in the sunshine. She found herself smiling doing the most mundane things, and every time he caught her eye she thought her heart had stopped, but it always kicked back into life double strong, and then tap-danced for a few minutes inside her chest.
She’d forgotten what it was like, this heady sensation of being totally caught up in an attraction. For the last two years she’d avoided it. Not that she hadn’t gone out, but she’d always seemed to pick men who were pleasant but not heart-stopping. She was so bored with nice now.