Her chin lifted. “Well, maybe you need to move on.”
Agony lanced through him. There was no plea to stay, no encouragement. “Like you did? Did that make you happy?”
“That’s not fair.” Her voice was hoarse with pain, her eyes clouded.
“This whole situation is not fair.” It was hell.
“And whose fault is that?” The question, softly spoken, blasted him in the confined space, and he folded his arms, trying to defend himself against the guilt, the pain; trying to warm his suddenly chilled body.
He nodded. “You’re right,” he said quietly, his voice feeling like it was rumbling over razor blades. “I’ve tried to make amends. We’ve come so far, shared so much.” There was nothing he wouldn’t do for her.
She shook her head. “So much, and no more.”
He let out a breath. “I need more.” It cost him so much to utter those words, to let her see his vulnerability.
“Then you need someone else.” She rubbed her hands on her arms, as though she too felt a chill in the warm confines of the salon.
“Maybe I do,” he whispered.
They stared at each other, less than a foot apart, but separated by a yawning crevasse of pain and past hurts.
Hope turned and left. Oliver gripped his arms tightly to prevent himself from reaching out to her, telling her to forget what he’d said, that he was just teasing.
Instead, he watched her leave.
*
Hope sat on her bunk and covered her face with her hands.
Oh, that was bad. That was—that was torture. As soon as the words fell from her mouth she knew he’d be hurt by them. She didn’t want to hurt Ollie—he was her friend. She’d known he still had a thing for her, but had tried not to encourage it.
What woman in her right mind would turn down Oliver Jones? Argh. Could she feel any more awkward than she did in this very moment?
She collapsed back on her bed, groaning with frustration. Why couldn’t he just keep things casual? Why did he have to go and ruin it by kissing her proverbial socks off and making her want more?
And what did that say about her? She’d left two guys fighting over her back in LA, and now she had rebuffed Oliver, too. She was behaving just like her mother.
She squeezed her eyes shut. Anything but that. She’d had to live down her mother’s many indiscretions, had tried to set a new standard, determined to break the mold. She wasn’t a femme fatale. She rolled her eyes. Not even close.
She shuddered. The feel of his lips against hers, his arms around her—it was as though she was seventeen again, feeling wild exuberance over a mere kiss. She shook her head. She couldn’t even begin to imagine what it might be like to make love with Oliver Jones. They had kissed many times, but had never made that final commitment.
She was still attracted to him. Images of Oliver, half-naked and wet, half-naked and aroused—by her—flooded her brain. Her nipples peaked in her bra, as though craving his touch, and she hugged herself.
This attraction to Oliver had to stop. She’d found him appealing from the moment they’d met, but had become supremely aware of him during this trip. This business trip. She had to remind herself of that. They were business associates and friends—although she wasn’t sure if the latter still applied. Fear and dismay flared within her. She hoped they were still friends. Oliver was—well, he was special. He’d been her first love. She remembered those lazy days when they’d hung out over summer, when her biggest problem was deciding which college to attend. She sighed as she rolled over and drew her knees up.
They were friends. Friends didn’t go around kissing each other like—well, like he’d kissed her. Sure, she’d enjoyed it—way too much, if she was honest with herself. But as she’d told him, there could never be anything more between them. He’d hurt her, deeply. The pain, the humiliation, the horror—her life had become a circus. She sighed. Okay, so being Brooke Logan’s daughter was a circus all on its own, but Oliver’s mistaken tryst with her mother was her first real experience of being at the center of a media storm. It had been hell.
And now he wanted to try and resuscitate that dead horse? She just wanted a contented life with a one-woman man—was that seriously too much to ask for? Oliver had been unfaithful, albeit unknowingly. And she’d had to share Liam with another woman for far too long, and Wyatt? Well, Wyatt definitely had a single-minded focus, but she wasn’t sure if his intense attention was because he wanted to be with her, or because he was trying to prove something to his father and half-brother.
She was jinxed when it came to relationships. She’d proven that over and over again. She didn’t trust her heart, or her head, when it came to men.
But she didn’t want to lose Oliver.
She bit her lip as she glanced at the wall of her cabin. She’d pretty much told him to move on. Oh, gosh. What if he did? She squeezed her eyes shut as an unfamiliar feeling of dread gripped her gut. He was an attractive guy. Smart, with a great sense of humor. Despite their past, she really did want him to be happy. She couldn’t deny, though, that on some level she still wanted his attention, his affection. His desire. But he needed more than she was prepared to give.
If he did find happiness with another woman, what then? After tonight, she wasn’t sure what she wanted. He could still arouse her with one kiss, one heated look.
But he could still hurt her, too.
She hoped, prayed, that tomorrow everything would be back to normal. Oliver would joke around with her, make her laugh, be that strong shoulder to cry on when she needed it. Be the man she wanted, just without the emotional entanglement. She took a deep breath. Tomorrow they’d act like nothing had happened.
*
Something had definitely happened. Hope glanced up from her bowl of yoghurt as Oliver shoveled another forkful of scrambled eggs into his mouth. He’d nodded politely in Hope’s general direction earlier, and had barely made eye contact since. He conversed casually with Caroline and Rick, and anyone looking at him would think everything was fine.
He still couldn’t seem to locate a shirt, Hope noticed. She returned her attention to her breakfast. As soon as they were finished eating, Captain Marshall was going to take them to another beach site, with a nice rain forest not too far inland, for another shoot. Then they would sail farther south and stop for one last night before heading back to Hamilton Island.
So she was stuck on a boat with Oliver for at least another twenty-four hours. She flicked a glance his way. His brown hair was picking up some golden highlights, and there was a light dusting of stubble over his jawline, making him look like a relaxed, sexy surfer—with a wild edge that was distracting. Appealing. His skin was tanned light gold, his shoulders were broad and muscular, and his torso showed a core strength that any red-blooded woman would want to run her hands over.
Hope’s grip tightened on her spoon. She’d closed that door pretty emphatically the night before. Had she seriously thought he’d be all happy and perky this morning? She certainly wasn’t.
Caroline cleared her throat. “So, how did we do last night?”
Oliver’s steel-blue gaze met Hope’s for just a moment. He smiled briefly, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. “We did what we had to do,” he responded quietly. “We can go over all the images this evening, after we’ve completed the last shoot. You should have a selection for the marketing department in Sydney by the time we get back to Hamilton Island.” He rose from the table. “Uh, if it’s all right with you guys, I might swim across to the other boat and travel with them. I want to chat with Thomas about what kind of images he wants for the website and e-store, and also talk with some of the models about today’s shoot.”
Rick nodded and Oliver turned to leave. Hope couldn’t help but notice the low-slung fit of his shorts, the way the muscles in his arms and shoulders corded and bunched as he hauled himself up the stairs to the deck. Moments later she heard a splash as he entered the water.
Hope blinked furiously as she
carefully placed her spoon back in her bowl. Why did she want to cry? He wasn’t being cold, or aloof. He’d been polite, professional. But distant. He just wasn’t … Ollie. She pushed the bowl aside, her appetite deserting her.
“You’re going to need more than that to get you through the day, love,” Sandy said kindly from her position at the galley sink.
Hope forced a smile. “I’m not that hungry,” she replied, and touched her stomach. “I’m not used to eating on a boat.”
Sandy nodded, smiling. “It can take some getting used to. I have some motion sickness medication, if you need it?”
Hope held up a hand. “I think I’ll be okay, but thanks.”
Sandy gave her a thumbs-up and turned back to the dishes.
She needed air. She needed space. Everything felt like it was closing in on her. “I’m just going up on deck,” she said to Rick, who was watching her shrewdly. He eyed the deck stairs, slowly nodding.
“Sure. I’ll call you when we get anywhere near making a decision on the images,” he said.
Hope smiled her thanks and left, sucking in a deep breath as she emerged on deck. Bright sunlight glimmered on the water, and she squinted. Her sunglasses were back in her cabin. Maybe she should go in and get them …
Oliver had just reached the other boat and was hauling himself up the deck ladder. Water streamed off his shoulders and back, and as he reached the deck he straightened, running his hands through his wet hair and sluicing water down his body. He stood against the backdrop of the horizon, bathed in a golden light. He looked like some god from the deep, perfectly formed.
Hope frowned. Maybe she had sunstroke. Maybe all this time in the sun was sending her mad. A god? No, he was … Ollie. Another figure stepped out from the cabin, unmistakably feminine. She watched as Jasmine held out a towel to Oliver, even heard her squeal when he shook his head and sprayed droplets of water over her, like a dog. He eventually slung the towel around his neck, and Jasmine grabbed his hand. Together, they disappeared into the cabin.
Hope turned her back on the other boat. At breakfast he’d given the impression of being relaxed. Now he seemed quite energized.
She, on the other hand, had barely slept. She hoped the makeup artist had a good supply of concealer. The bags under her eyes were going to be hard to hide.
She took a seat on one of the cushioned daybeds on deck. It was so clear, so tranquil, here. Quite a contrast to the storm raging in her head.
She rested her elbow on the backrest and touched her chin to her arm, gazing out toward the horizon. He was on that boat, with that woman. She pressed her forehead to her arm, closing her eyes. No. She wasn’t going there. She’d focus on the day ahead. She wanted this campaign to succeed. She wanted the HFTF brand to be successful—and not just so that her brother could keep his job, although that was important.
HFTF was a line designed to promote self-respect and self-esteem in young women. Hope had gone through a time where she’d questioned her own self-worth, and had learned to defend her traditional values in an environment where she was the exception, rather than the norm. She wanted other young women to have the confidence to stand up to peer pressure. This brand was important.
So, yes, she had to focus on the job at hand. She hoped the next location had some shade, some way of keeping cool. It was going to be another long day, and she knew at some point she’d have to talk with Oliver.
The motor launch’s engines revved, and she turned to watch it pull away from the hidden cove they’d anchored in overnight. Hope folded her arms. Oliver was on that boat. With that woman. She frowned. It sure hadn’t taken him long to move on. She imagined them talking, laughing. Probably kissing. Well, Oliver was gorgeous, of course they were kissing. She ignored the fact that someone had to be steering the boat. Jasmine had crew who could manage that.
Hope blinked, and pursed her lips. I sound like some jealous shrew. She couldn’t stand this distance, this cool remoteness. She’d lasted what? An hour in his company? She wanted her friend back. Whatever it took, they would manage. They’d done it before. He was too important to her for things to just end like this.
She had been eager to put some space between herself and Liam—and Wyatt. With Oliver, though, she had to fight the urge to go to him. She exhaled gustily. What would it take to fix their relationship?
“That’s a deep sigh,” came a gruff voice behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. Captain Marshall was pulling on a rope, and she heard the metallic ring as a sail climbed the mast.
“Just getting myself into the right mindset for today,” she told the older man as he pressed a button on his console. She assumed the next sound she heard was the anchor being pulled in.
Captain Marshall grinned. “Well, this is the best place to do that,” he told her. He gestured to the horizon. “Looking in all directions can have a grounding effect—makes it easy to figure out the important things in life. You know, don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s insignificant out here.”
Hope smiled in response. She felt like she was poised on the edge of a cliff. One wrong move could mean the difference between finding safe ground or plummeting to her death.
She gazed out across the water as the yacht dipped and rose with the waves and the wind. Her mouth turned down at the corners. Usually she could talk her problems over with her good friend. But today her problem was her good friend.
Chapter Six
“Just lift your chin a little higher,” Oliver instructed. He waited for Hope to comply. She tilted her face. “And just a little more,” he said, his eye pressed against the camera. The lens he was using for this range of shots clearly showed the line in the middle of her forehead, the tightening of her lips. She was disconcerted. This photo shoot was as apparently as awkward for her as it was for him.
“Okay, I think I’ve got enough,” he said, straightening.
The other models made various noises of relief as they relaxed their poses. He had worked them hard. He slipped the lens cap on.
They stood in a sheltered gully, surrounded by lush vegetation. Vines created a living curtain, and it was against this curtain that today’s shoot took place. Even as the models shook out their muscles, strained from holding challenging poses, the group was quiet, as though observing a reverent hush in the green cathedral.
“Is everything okay?” Rick asked quietly.
Oliver slid his camera into its protective case. He nodded. “Yeah, it’s all good. I think we’ve got a good collection.”
Rick’s eyebrows rose briefly as he watched his sister pick her way carefully along the trail toward the beach. “Oh, really? Because it looked to me like things were a little stilted today.”
Oliver grimaced. He prided himself on being a professional, and had taken great pains to conduct himself accordingly. That was the way Hope wanted it, after all.
“Yeah, well, maybe we’re all tired. It’s been a big few days,” he murmured, slinging the strap of his camera bag over his shoulder.
“I’ll second that,” Thomas said from behind them. “I’m glad we’re having afternoon tea now. I’m famished.”
Rick gestured to the rain forest surrounding them. “You think everyone needs a break from this?” His voice was incredulous, and Oliver chuckled.
Thomas held his arms out in protest. “Hey, all work and no play makes Thomas a dull and starving boy.”
“Puh-leeze. You haven’t left those models alone for a minute.”
“Ah, I’m a consummate professional,” Thomas said. “They’re gorgeous, but we’re working.” He waggled his finger. “No hanky panky.”
“Yeah, and that’s why you changed boats. Professionalism.”
“Someone’s got to look after our staff.” Thomas looked past them. “Speaking of which, it looks like Lacey needs a hand getting down the trail in those shoes.”
“Lacey?” Rick enquired, folding his arms.
Thomas gaped in mock-horror. “Yes, Lacey. Don’t tell me
you don’t know their names?”
“I bet you know a lot more than just their names.”
“Yep. Did you know Lacey likes Japanese food and surfing?” Thomas threw over his shoulder as he jogged after her.
“Pity she doesn’t like long walks on the beach,” Rick commented.
“This area is great,” Oliver conceded. The day was mildly overcast, the kind of lighting that brought out the deeper greens in the rain forest. “I can see the montage now: desert, to rain forest, to beach.” He shook his head. “Just shows how complex a place can be.”
Rick looked over at Hope and Caroline. “A lot like relationships,” he observed.
Oliver raised his eyebrows. “You and Caroline seem to be doing well,” he said.
Rick broke into an easy grin. “Yeah. I don’t know how, she drives me crazy sometimes, but we seem to have a greater appreciation for each other.”
Oliver glanced at his boss. “Crazy seems to agree with you.”
“What about you? Are you happy, Oliver?”
He shrugged. “I’m working on it.” After his conversation with Hope last night, he had to face the hard facts. Their issues, their past, would always come between them. He didn’t know how he could get her past that one regrettable indiscretion. He’d been biding his time, hoping she’d give him another chance, give them another chance, but that simply wasn’t going to happen. Maybe she was right. Maybe it was time for him to move on. He didn’t think he could torture himself for much longer, standing by and watching her form relationships with men he could see were totally wrong for her.
Of course, his opinion might be a little biased.
“If you feel like you need to … broaden your experience,” Rick said, falling into step with him on the trail, “I want you to come to me first.”
Oliver shot him a curious look.
“I know you’ve received job offers,” Rick said bluntly. “We appreciate your work, Oliver. You’ve been with us long enough that you’ve become part of the family.”
Stormswept: The Bold and the Beautiful Page 5