Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  'I’ll pile these papers up and we can eat on the table tonight,' he told her, gathering up the scattered sheets and stacking them into neat piles near the bulkhead.

  'Fine. Where do we eat when you are full into writing?'

  'Usually topside, if the weather’s good. In the past we anchored near a small island and it's cooler on the deck after cooking and the general heat of the day. We’ll lose the breeze through the portholes when we anchor.

  He finished clearing the table and sat on the bench, watching her as she cooked. Lexy's brown legs were shapely, coming beneath the light blue T-shirt. She held her head high, as if trying to gain inches. Dominic smiled as he watched her, relaxed, content. She was a small thing, but with a huge determination. He was curious about her. What made her choose this kind of life?

  'Lexy, do you worry about your reputation, traveling alone with me?' he asked suddenly. The thought had occurred to him before but it was one she may not have considered, the consequences of sailing for an extended period with an unmarried male. Standards and life-styles were rather casual in the West Indies, but even so, he was concerned lest she be hurt by any senseless chatter that might result from their sailing together.

  She went still for a moment, shoulders oddly hunched as if fighting a sharp jab. Remain calm, she told herself; take a deep breath. Slowly she relaxed, answering in an odd voice, 'No, I don't worry about my reputation.'

  'You needn't,' he continued. 'I loved my wife very much.' As if that explained everything.

  Lexy sighed softly, a second dart of pain in her chest. Yes, that explained everything. He loved his dead wife and had found no one to take her place, to interest him, to tempt him. She would be very safe with him, unlike...

  Not that it mattered; her sailing alone with him would do her reputation no harm, if he only knew.

  The days passed quickly, almost too quickly. Lexy dipped again into the pile of books Dominic had on board, finding them light reading, a pleasant way to pass the hours while he worked. They split the night watch; during the day she kept an eye on the sails, the wind and their direction. The steady trade winds that plied the West Indies kept their daily speed constant, their adjustment of the sails to a minimum. Occasionally she sighted another boat on the horizon, and one morning one came within hailing distance and she exchanged waves with the several people on board. For the most part, however, the sea was theirs.

  Lexy gazed longingly each hot afternoon at the inviting water, wishing she could dive beneath its surface, cool her hot body in the velvet warmth of the Caribbean. Maybe one day soon, if she stayed on, if she was hired for the whole cruise, then she would be able to take advantage of their anchorage and swim every day.

  She let the book she was reading drop down, her eyes on the far horizon, her thoughts miles away. They’d sight Barbados tomorrow night or the following morning.

  She knew already, on her part, she’d like to continue the association; she hesitated to term it a job, and the duties required were so few and far between. Imagining how they would deal at the anchorage, she felt she would have even less to do in the way of work; meals would be about all, and she had to fix herself something to eat anyway. Where was the work? Paid vacation more like it.

  Lexy wondered how Dominic felt. She was surprised, when reviewing the last few days, at the little actual contact they’d had. Meals were the only times, really, and although they were pleasant encounters, they were not of long duration. Splitting the night watch as they did caused Lexy to retire early to get enough sleep before her shift. Dominic then slept, awakening in the morning ready to work. He continued to use the port bunk while Lexy had the wheel and she wondered if their docking in Bridgetown would necessitate his converting the sofa, or if he’d stay in town with his brother.

  But maybe it wouldn't matter to her; maybe she would be looking for a new job.

  While she’d learned little about Dominic Frazer's private life, she’d been told a great deal about his much-loved younger brother, Robin, and his recent marriage in Bridgetown. His leaving the Marybeth had been a blow to Dominic, but working for his new father-in-law in his marine insurance firm assured Robin of continued interaction with the ships and sea. Dominic had seen him only briefly since his marriage and was looking forward to visiting him while in Bridgetown.

  Finishing the breakfast dishes the next morning, leaving them to drain on the small galley counter, Lexy went topside. She picked up another book--one she’d read several years ago–to reread today. If she stayed she’d buy several dozen new books in Bridgetown to bring with her. She wondered briefly where she would put them all, then remembered the port bunk wouldn’t be in use then. She’d use that as a bookcase.

  'Ready to take over, sir,' she threw Dominic a saucy salute and sank down near the wheel. 'Oh, you've lowered the jib,' she noticed, looking up.

  'Yes. I want to slow us up a little. The winds have been good these last few days we've made excellent time. I don't want to arrive in Bridgetown after dark. This should slow us down enough to sight land tomorrow morning.'

  'Aren't you going to work?' she asked, surprised to find him comfortably ensconced and looking as if he were set for the morning.

  'Not today, Miss Slavedriver. I’m pretty well set now. I'm taking today off.'

  'I see,' she teased. 'And tomorrow, too, shocking waste of time.'

  He smiled back. 'Not at all, I'm thinking.'

  She laughed at this, her dimple coming and going in her cheek. They sat in companionable silence for a while, enjoying the early morning warmth, the pleasant balmy air that hadn't yet heated up to the humid torpor of the afternoon. The early morning hours were the best in the West Indies.

  'Tell me about yourself, Lexy,' Dominic invited lazily.

  She looked around, startled at the question.

  'What's to tell?' Her gaze swung out to sea. Darn, she had hoped this would not come up. It hadn't before, why now?

  'You tell me. I know you’re quiet and self-sufficient. Most women talk incessantly, or so it seems.' He mimicked in a high falsetto, 'I adore sailing, I absolutely love the weather here, you know I find your company fascinating, imagine little old me in company with a famous author.'

  She chuckled appreciatively. 'That last one hit home, Dominic. I was thinking that very thing the other day, when you first told me. But I do hope I'm not a gusher.'

  'No, you certainly aren't that, or much of a talker at all, come to think of it. I know by your accent that you’re from England, not around here. I know your age because you told me, and you’re an orphan. What else? Sisters or brothers?'

  She was silent a long minute, staring out to sea. Now was her opportunity. He’d only know what she chose to tell him.

  'No brothers or sisters. No one, just me, now. I was raised, as you suspected, in the West Country. Left England at eighteen for adventure.' She laughed mirthlessly. 'Some adventure. Oh, well, I've knocked around and here I am.'

  'That's all? No husband, no boyfriend?'

  She flushed again, slightly, avoiding Dominic's eyes. Shutting her mind down on the memories.

  'Once, a long time ago, I thought I was in love,' she said very gently, so gently Dominic almost missed the words, but not the bitter voice. 'Never again,' she bit out.

  Smiling wryly at this, he shook his head, she was still young. Plenty of time for some other man to catch her fancy. His curiosity was aroused, though. There was a story in those few words. Who had the man been and what had he done to make Lexy so bitter? At least the experience hadn’t seemed to have warped her personality. She was open, friendly, candid.

  Lexy was still staring at the distant horizon. She hated being reminded of the past. She hated it all. Her happy childhood only a cruel mockery of the promise her future had once held, bright and unending. She’d destroyed it, of course, and caused the change. She alone. Circumstances thereafter continued her on her new track, however much she tried to get off, to change back. It was impossible, she could never go back—
and never change people's minds. It was the one unarguable fact she found over and over; people believed what they wanted. Explaining, excusing, nothing mattered—people believed the worst. And there was no escape. She’d tried, even thought she’d been successful once or twice, but in vain. The past always caught up with her.

  She sighed; unaware of Dominic's watchful eye, unaware he had been studying her for the last few minutes, wondering at the bitter expression, at the sad look on her usually serene face.

  'I'll go forward and lie in the sun a while,' she said, rising and holding out the book. 'I want to reread this, a competitor of yours.' It was an early Alistair MacLean adventure.

  Dominic watched her as she went to the bow, then settled himself more comfortably to enjoy the breeze and balmy air. He wasn’t through finding out more about his new crew woman, but for now he’d let it go. But he wondered.

  'Lexy, time for lunch. I’m hungry even if you aren’t,' he called several hours later.

  She looked up from her absorption in her book, the earlier discussion forgotten. 'Okay, I'll get it.' She rose lithely and went below.

  Dominic rechecked the compass, the sails, adjusted and lashed the wheel and followed. He settled in his bench, his cut-offs baring long brown legs, his chest and shoulders tanned almost as dark as his face.

  Lexy glanced over and met his eyes. Flushing slightly she turned back to her work, unexpectedly aware of his presence, his maleness. She swallowed hard, willing her heart rate to slow down. 'I'm surprised at your dark tan,' she said into the suddenly tense silence. 'I thought blue- eyed people didn't tan so darkly.' She placed their plates on the cleared patch on the table and sat opposite him, very conscious of his nearness.

  'Been in the sun most of my life. I think my skin has just been baked too long.' He smiled and began eating.

  During lunch he broached the subject of her remaining, saying bluntly and without small talk, 'So far things have gone well. I want you to stay on, how do you feel about it?' His expression was serious, his bright blue eyes awaiting her answer.

  She considered it for a moment. If he’d asked her yesterday, she’d have jumped at a yes. Now, after this morning, she wasn’t as sure. Would he ask more disturbing questions, bring up the past she wanted buried? They had gotten along so well, except for the awkward time this morning and when she’d found out about his wife. She weighed it up and gave him a slow nod.

  'Thank you for the offer. I'd like to stay on.'

  'You're not going to get bored, now, are you?' he asked sharply. 'I might go days on end without stopping except for meals and sleep.'

  'I won't if I can pick up some more books in Bridgetown. If I get a few dozen I can stow them on the port bunk, and read and swim while you're busy. I can amuse myself.' She was quietly confident on that score. ‘We will anchor some times, won’t we. I’d really love a swim.’

  He nodded. 'I usually stay out a month or so at a time, can't carry enough food and water for much beyond that. I don't always come in to Bridgetown to restock, however— any island with the supplies that's close will do. It’ll take three or four months at best; I write it out, then polish and trim the draft. It depends, sometimes it goes fast.' He shrugged.

  She nodded. 'Can I use your snorkeling equipment when we're at anchor?'

  'I assume you know how?'

  'Yes, I did a lot with Miles, scuba diving too, but you don't have scuba equipment.'

  'No, but if we go to my aunt's place when I surface for a break, we can do some diving. There's equipment at her place.'

  'Where's that?'

  'A little island in the Grenadines. I often combine re-stocking with a duty visit. She's my father's eldest sister, a bit of a character, but worth visiting briefly several times a year. Any more and I'd be driven to murder, I think. She has what's called a mind of her own, and doesn't mind telling everyone around her exactly what she thinks on any subject, and in a voice loud enough to wake the dead.'

  'Sounds delightful,' Lexy smiled, trying to envision an old lady trying to get the best of this nephew of hers. He seemed too confident, too assured.

  'We'll see what you think after you meet her,' he smiled back, his tone teasing.

  'How long will we be in Barbados?' Lexy asked, still conscious a salary hadn't been mentioned, and wondering how to introduce the subject.

  Two or three days. I'm staying at Robin's, and you’d better come too. I don’t want you staying at the marina alone.'

  'Oh, no,' she exclaimed involuntarily. He looked up at this, puzzled. 'I'd rather be on my own, if it is just the same to you,' she tried to explain.

  'I don't think it's wise for you to be alone on the boat in harbor,' he repeated.

  'I'll be fine, really.'

  'I'd like you to meet Robin and Sarah.'

  'Maybe,' she temporized. 'But all I have to wear are jeans and shorts. I don't have any dresses or anything, so will probably give it a miss this time.' There, that excuse should be good enough.

  'Buy a dress,' he threw back at her.

  Lexy faced him squarely, her eyes grave and serious, seemingly too large for her face. 'Dominic, everything I own is in the box and duffel bag I brought on board. I have nothing in them I don't need, nor any extra room for something like a dress that I might wear one time to meet your brother, then find superfluous. I don't want to buy something so unnecessary to me.'

  'But surely when you go out or something. . .'

  She shook her head. 'I don't go out,' she stated flatly. 'Please don’t pursue the subject, it's embarrassing for me.' She fiddled with her napkin, her head down bent.

  Dominic's lips tightened, but he kept his peace. If he wondered why she carried everything she owned with her, and why she didn't go out, he wouldn’t let his curiosity show. He let the subject drop. But it was another frustrating fact that he couldn’t understand about her.

  Lexy turned her beer bottle around and around, worried about her salary, wondering again how to bring up the subject. Especially after snubbing him. She didn't know how, but if she lost courage now she might never ask, might go along for nothing but her room and board, which was payment of a sort, of course. Maybe even sufficient payment for her services. Darn, she didn't know what to do.

  'If you don't go, you don't go,' he said. She looked up almost forgetting what they had been discussing. 'However, I’d like you to do the food shopping while we’re in port. I'll give you the money tomorrow. If you want to make a list, or whatever, plan on at least four weeks at sea. I don't like a lot of sweets, but suit yourself, too, in planning the supplies. I usually shop at a couple of places near the pier that deliver. I'll get you their addresses in the morning. Pay you then as well,' he finished coolly.

  'Pay me?' she squeaked, she didn't have to bring it up after all.

  'Your salary,' he explained with exaggerated patience.

  'But you never mentioned salary in Santa Inez. I did wonder,' she admitted.

  'You should’ve said something,' he sounded impatient. ‘Of course I pay a salary.’

  'I was afraid to bring it up.'

  'Afraid to? Why?' he thundered, astonished.

  'Well, in Santa Inez because I didn't want to jeopardize my transportation to Barbados if room and board was all the pay. Then, just a minute ago, I thought you might be annoyed with me and ...' she trailed off, shrugging her shoulders expressively.

  'Not annoyed, disappointed perhaps that you won't be meeting Robin and Sarah, but that has nothing to do with the job at hand.'

  'You must admit that I don't do a lot for a salary. Fix the meals, and you've done most of the lunches.'

  'Ah, but I'm paying for your expertise.'

  'My expertise? In cooking?'

  'No, in your knowledge of sailing. In a storm or other difficult situation, I need someone to back me up, someone who knows what they are about, who has a fair knowledge of sailing. I also require someone who’s pleasant and available for conversation when I want them but who can keep quiet and out of my w
ay when I don't want company. So, you fit the bill, and with a bonus.'

  'A bonus?'

  He smiled at her, a twinkle in his eye, 'You’re pretty, too.'

  Lexy's heart leaped at his words, as a warm glow filled her. He wanted her to stay. They would sail together for a time, getting to know each other better, exploring a new friendship, and maybe. . . She shook her head faintly, one thing at a time. She had the job!

  'Thank you, kind sir,' she inclined her head at his compliment, then said cheekily, 'is that the best you can do, a writer, a person who has a way with words, just pretty?'

  He laughed at her: 'Yep, that's all, so don't go fishing for more.'

  CHAPTER THREE

  They tied up at a pier at a private marina near the Bridgetown harbor early the following afternoon. From early dawn they’d seen signs that they were approaching civilization. A few boats scattered here and there on the horizon were the first indications, their number swelling as Lexy and Dominic drew closer to the island. Trash and bottles and cans floated by, marring the pristine beauty of the turquoise sea—a sure sign of modern man. By noon the dark shape of Barbados appeared on the horizon, growing larger each minute as the sails took as much wind as Dominic could coax and sent the boat along at a spanking clip.

  Lexy stayed on deck after lunch, dressed decorously in shorts and a sleeveless top. She’d been to Bridgetown before, but was not immune to the excitement of a return trip. She kept an eye out for the towers and buildings she would recognize.

  They skimmed by the commercial harbor where pleasure boats, fishing crafts and cruise ships filled the waters, giving a confused, chaotic appearance. Lexy watched anxiously, certain one ship would collide with another. None did, however, to her relief.

  'Drop the jib.' Dominic called. 'Furl it then drop the mainsail.'

  She glanced over her shoulder as she moved to obey the order. The throb of the auxiliary engine giving the answer of why he no longer wanted the sails. She complied swiftly, having only a little difficulty with the mainsail. When both were furled, covered and snapped into place she joined him at the helm, still eagerly watching the movement and antics in the harbor.