Romancing the Seas

by Cait O'Sullivan

  “Oh, and something else she wants … ” George paused, and turned away from Jonathon to lean over the balcony rail. “Fire Pippa Renshaw. I don’t know why but she seems to have taken a disliking toward her.”

  Shock jolted through him. Had he heard right or had he just thought George had voiced aloud the ever present name in his head? Mad though it sounded, he had a sneaking suspicion that his ears hadn’t failed him.

  “Let’s clarify, George.” Waiting until he got the nod from Stevenson, he continued. “You and I will sign the deal, and we send out a PR statement saying that Stevensons Hotels and Queen Cruises are going into partnership. In return, I fire one of my best chefs — no, make that my best chef — and also take Juliet onto the board of executives?”

  George looked at him, the lines on his face becoming more prominent. “I’m afraid so, only the deal will be co-signed by both Juliet and myself.”

  Deep breath. He would find a compromise.

  “May I ask you something, George?”

  The older man nodded.

  “What experience does Juliet have?”

  George shrugged. “Not much, as you know. But the kid has to start somewhere, and although her name will be on the deal, she won’t be able to do much without my say so. We can make sure of that in the fine print, if that will put your mind at rest.”

  Jonathon’s adrenaline started pumping. There had to be an answer here somewhere. He didn’t know which was worse, holding his best chef — Pippa — to ransom, or having to put up with Juliet ad infinitum. Dammit, he was counting the days already until he could get away from her.

  “Any PR experience at all?”

  “Juliet is exceptionally good at courting the paparazzi and, Jonathon, to be honest, I think that she will be extremely good in a PR role. I know Queen Cruises is without a PR executive, as she left with Mulberry.”

  “Yes, but Juliet as an executive?”

  “Like I say, she won’t be able to do much on her own. On the plus side, she already has her own PR machine in place, and they really are all exemplary. I don’t see this as a bad thing for either my corporation or Queen Cruises. We would be putting a lot of money into this deal, and I wouldn’t jeopardise that.”

  Jonathon said nothing. Let George keep talking and see what’s on offer.

  “In fact, were we to sign the deal, she would ensure an explosion of publicity. She has been working on it already, and I like most of her ideas. I wouldn’t demand you put her on the board unless I thought she was up to the challenge.”

  Jonathon took a beef Wellington canapé and chewed on it. So it was a demand, was it?

  “Obviously, even though she is a Stevenson, I would expect her not to be treated any differently. She would, as I’ve told her, submit to your decisions as final.”

  But she’s pulled the wool over your eyes. Of course, you think she’s capable of making it a success, she’s your daughter.

  George fell silent, but there was a tick in his jaw as he watched Jonathon.

  “So talk to me about Pippa. That’s the chef you want me to fire.”

  George now swung to face him, leaning his back against the railing. “Heck if I know, Jonathon. Do they know each other well?”

  “No, of course they don’t. How would they?” A thought struck him.

  “When did Juliet tell you she wanted Pippa fired?”

  “Quite early on in the cruise, after the dinner she cooked for us.”

  So she had been planning this ever since that first night. No wonder she had looked so smug when Pippa told her she was moving out. She was probably thinking that the suite wasn’t the only place she’d leave.

  “So give me her reasons to sack Pippa.”

  George held his hands out to him. “I’m not convinced she has any.”

  Jonathon raised an eyebrow. Go easy, this is his daughter you’re talking about. The daughter of the man of the moment.

  “That’s the deal on the table? Either I fire Pippa and take Juliet on board, or we have no deal?”

  George nodded, his eyes watching Jonathon carefully.

  “Then it’s no deal. Sorry, George, but I refuse to fire my best chef. Even if there was a good reason, I won’t be told what to do.”

  • • •

  Warmth spilled out from the pub where Jean-Pierre’s leaving do was in full swing, lifting his mood. Only at the last minute had he decided to attend, and then simply because he wanted to see Pippa. Perhaps she may silence the ever-present conversation between him and George in his head. He had been none too pleased when Jonathon had turned down the deal.

  He had tried to assure him it wasn’t personal but he knew he had failed. For he did think it was personal, Juliet had made it so. How dare she flaunt her status as daughter of the man with one of the greatest hotel empires in the world and demand she fire Pippa? George had said he would do his darnedest to change her mind, or at least uncover a good reason as to why she’d made her demand. Jonathon knew no such answer would be forthcoming, for Juliet was unlikely to show how mean-spirited she was by admitting to her jealousy.

  Jonathon’s main worry lay in the fact that he knew the Juliet always got what she wanted. Well, not this time.

  Jean-Pierre was holding court to a group of avid listeners as he described the vineyard he had bought and the Michelin starred restaurant that complemented it. Soon there were cries of “take us with you!”

  Jonathon smiled over their heads at Jean-Pierre, miming the action for a drink, and when Jean-Pierre shook his head, went to the bar himself. He was leaning against it, sipping his Milford whisky, when the door opened to admit Pippa and Rob.

  At first glance, his initial thought was that they made a handsome couple. Pippa’s dark green woolen coat was turned up at the collar against the cold, and her hair glowed rusty red against the green. He caught a glimpse of a slim thigh leading into a knee high brown suede boot. She was a refreshing sight for his tired eyes, and he smiled over at her.

  Then his mind did a double take and dismay obliterated his previous — delusional, he could see that now — image of an evening spent talking to Pippa. What was she doing with him? He hadn’t realised how much he’d been looking forward to seeing her tonight. Now here she was, on another man’s arm and looking pretty enamoured at that, clutching Rob’s arm and gazing up into his face with adoration. Perhaps he should tell her that he was exchanging a successful future for Queen Cruises, along with his good name, all for her job. See what she thought about him then. Although, Jonathon knew inside that she’d just walk from the job. He could almost hear her saying, “Don’t do me any favours!”

  It was too late for Jonathon to escape the small bar, so he tightened his jaw and raised a hand to them. “Pippa, Rob. What can I get you to drink?”

  Pippa flicked her gaze quickly into his face, not reaching his eyes. “Hello, Mr. Eagleton. We’re fine, thanks.”

  “I insist.” Jonathon nodded at the bartender for service. “Rob?”

  “Milford Whisky, please. Pippa has been telling me what a wonderful drink it is.”

  “Really? So one for you, Pippa, as well?” Jonathon kept his face from smiling when he heard that Pippa had been saying “wonderful” in conjunction to a night with him.

  Pippa’s gaze met his, and the look in her eyes brought to mind a wintry day. “Not for me. The problem with Milford Whisky is that over exposure can leave you feeling quite ill.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. It only makes me feel very good, and leaves me wanting more.” Jonathon curled his hand around his tumbler, holding it warm.

  “As long as there’s more available, then I guess I’d have to say lucky you. It’s when you run out and you have no choice but to sober up that the real trouble starts.”

  Rob looked from one to the other with a confused expression on
his face. “Have I got this wrong, are you both whisky aficionados or something?”

  “Something,” agreed Pippa and she leant in to the bartender who was patiently waiting for her order. “Diet Coke for me please — surprise me with the amount of ice and lemon. I like an exciting life, me.”

  Whilst Rob looked even more confused, Jonathon raised his glass to his lips to hide the smile that was threatening. How could it be that even when she was mad at him, she still made him smile? Hot on the heels of this was a thought that struck him in the pit of his stomach like a hot brick, he couldn’t let her get away.

  • • •

  Pippa was crying. Grief wracked through her insides, and her outward appearance struggled not to show the tremendous emotions coursing through her. Glancing through the window of the bar as they arrived, she had seen Jonathon looking very handsome in an open-necked white shirt as he sat there sipping his drink, deep in thought.

  Senses she had shoved to one side now fizzed alive, sending prickles of excitement through her blood and streaming to every inch of her body. She hadn’t allowed herself to wonder whether he’d be there or not tonight. Happiness flooded through her, only to be followed by a sensation of her heart being plunged into ice-cold water. Breathless, she acknowledged that, pragmatically, it would be better if he weren’t here. The quickest way to get over him was by avoiding him.

  Failing that, let Jonathon think she was totally over him, and onto a new man. Coquetry? Ha, Madonna could learn something from her tonight.

  But why had she been so bloody minded as to order a darn Diet Coke? She needed a drink to calm her nerves. Turning to Rob, she gestured in a head movement toward the party. After he placed a proprietary hand under her elbow, she raised her glass in mocking thanks to Jonathon, and let Rob shepherd her over to the party. Why couldn’t she fall for Rob? Life would be much easier if she could.

  The reason sat cold within her.

  Because you’ve fallen for your boss again, you fool.

  “Peepa, Rob, welcome.” Jean-Pierre waved them over to him, and pushed a glass of wine under her nose. Great, alcohol. Hopefully, her stomach would start to unknot now. “As you are at my party now, you must start trying of the wine that we shall make. And please, I want you to meet Darrel, my partner in business.” Darrel was a kiwi of around fifty, a very handsome man, with a craggy face and grey-flecked thick dark hair, dressed very smartly in a dark suit.

  “It is my pleasure.” He took Pippa’s hand and bent over it, giving it a kiss. “Jean-Pierre has been telling me all about your wonderful abilities.”

  “Aw, I’m sure he has been exaggerating.”

  “Of course he wasn’t, Pippa is a fantastic chef. Please to meet you, Darrel.” Rob shook his hand and looked proudly at Pippa.

  Pippa’s toes squirmed in her boots, and she risked a glance at Jonathon, to see a deep frown overshadowing his eyes. God help her, it was him she wanted to make proud — it didn’t matter what anyone else thought.

  “Jean-Pierre does not exaggerate. I hope we will see you soon at our little vineyard, you would be more than welcome.”

  “Thanks, Darrel. Who knows … ” Pippa took a big drink of her chilled Sauvignon. “This is excellent!”

  “Thank you, my dear.” Darrel smiled at her. “Now, Jean-Pierre, you must introduce me to Jonathon Eagleton. He could be a very important contact. If we set it up right, we could get the customers from the ships coming to the vineyard. If you’ll excuse us, Pippa, Rob.”

  “Pippa! Hooray, you’re here.” Fiona came over to them, dragging a laughing David by the arm. “And Rob too!” Turning her shoulder to Rob, she put her head on one side and raised her eyes dramatically at him, then back to Pippa, her question clear. Pippa rolled her eyes back.

  “Great, the party’s just begun.” Fiona started jigging on the spot to the beat coming from the band warming up and wiggled her bottom against Pippa. “Come on, shake that booty!”

  Oh what the hell! She was sick of moping anyway, and it certainly wasn’t helping her to put Jonathon from her mind. Perhaps dancing would.

  Chapter Eleven

  Pippa’s nerves melted away in favour of the thrill she felt at working her own kitchen. For the next couple of days, she was everywhere, talking to all the staff, and each time she was greeted with “chef” her heart threatened to double its size in pride. Her professional life was well on track, and for that, she was glad.

  When she woke up on the second morning of being head chef, the sweet feeling of happiness surrounded her. I am happy here, finally. Her mind still slumbered until, with a jolt ricocheting through her, she realised her dreams had been full of Jonathon. In vivid detail, images of her as mother to two pretty girls and wife to a happy, relaxed Jonathon cycled through her head. Groaning, she sat up to swing her legs over the side of her bed and put her head in her hands, massaging her forehead as though to delete her dreams.

  Fiona came in after her shower. “Headache?”

  “No, just bad dreams,” Pippa muttered. “Very bad dreams.”

  “Well, I’d be quick to wash them away if I were you, there’s no queue for the shower.”

  “Great, thanks, Fiona.”

  As she stood under the steaming water, of its own accord her mind went back to her one and only night with Jonathon. How could she have gotten it so wrong? She had been so sure of their mutual attraction.

  She blew hard into the jet, seeing if she could blow the water off course. It ignored her to continue on its way. Yeah, I could no more switch off my feelings for Jonathon than I could divert the flow of water back up the pipe.

  Déjà vu moved smugly into her veins. She hadn’t listened to herself, right at the very start when she had realised that Jonathon Eagleton heralded nothing but trouble. But had she had a choice? She yearned to see him, yet ran when she did. Since Jean-Pierre’s leaving do, she only caught glimpses of him, striding from one meeting to the next looking very stressed. Her heart ached when she saw him like that and she wanted nothing more than to be able to bake him up a batch of cookies, or give him a face massage to work away those lines.

  She washed her hair vigorously. It was thoughts like these that would get her into trouble. He was an arse, he had treated her appallingly. Hang on to those thoughts and lose the soft ones, you daft bint!

  • • •

  “Rob?” Jonathon called out as he walked through the kitchen on his way to the Doubtful.

  “Yes, sir?” Rob found him and walked with him.

  “I have a meeting in the suite with the Stevensons in an hour, and I need refreshments. All the refreshments we can throw at them. Freshly percolated coffee, tea, both decaf and fully caffeinated, water, both sparkling and still, some room temperature, some chilled, lemon slices, ice, and a selection of the best pastries you can find. Plus, some fresh fruit salad and a selection of fruit as well. Oh and make sure the bar is fully stocked. I think that should cover it, unless you can think of anything else?”

  Rob ran down the list with a pen, frowning as he thought. “That’s it, I think, except for post coffee mints.”

  “Great. I’ll see you there in just under an hour. I’ll want to have the meeting in the dining room too, so will you make sure room service lays it out in boardroom style? Thanks, Rob.”

  Rob hastened off, and Jonathon let himself into the Doubtful. It still didn’t feel right to him. It hadn’t ever since Pippa had moved out. Pull yourself together, man! They had only stayed seven nights on the boat and one night up in the hut. That was not long enough to induce such nostalgia. Perhaps, instead, his negative feelings were the direct result of the heavy feeling of guilt in his heart.

  But whatever happened with the Stevensons, Pippa would remain head chef. They could go to hell before he would agree to firing her. There was absolutely no way on earth he would ruin her professional life. Hopef
ully this time, Stevenson would be on his own again this time.

  His hope soon turned sour when Juliet arrived, alone. Okay — he could deal with her better on her own without her adoring father.

  “Hi, Jonathon, sweetie.” Juliet drawled out the endearment, and planted a lipsticked kiss on both his cheeks. Struggling not to wipe the marks away, Jonathon nodded coolly at her.

  “What can Rob get you to drink?”

  “Well, to start with, can I have a skinny cappuccino, please? I assume you’ve got champagne on ice to celebrate with later.”

  Assume all you want, love. You know what they say about assumptions.

  Jonathon looked to Rob, unsure they could make cappuccinos, but Rob was busy working to bring about what she had requested. Good man, Rob. Except for when the girl of Jonathon’s dreams was on his arm. Tightening his jaw, Jonathon went over to get the drink for Juliet.

  “Black coffee for me, Rob, thanks.”

  Sitting down on the sofa, crossing one slim leg gracefully over the other, Juliet curved her lips at him. With a start, Jonathon realised she was nervous. Good, I can use that to my benefit. “Let’s move into the dining room, we’ll be more comfortable there. When can we expect your dad?” He knew he had put Juliet at a disadvantage, and he put a hand out to help her up.

  “Well, let’s see. He wanted us to talk, you know, business like, and then he’ll come in to see what has been agreed upon.”

  “So we are going to agree on something?”

  “Honey-pie, I sure hope so.” Her Texan drawl was more obvious now, making it clear that she was ill at ease.

  He took his time settling himself at the head of the table, and waited until she had tripped around in her silly little heels to sit herself down before giving Rob the nod to serve the coffee and pastries.

  “Pastries, ew, how fattening. Now, if I were on the board, I’d ensure there was a supply of non-fat goodies to eat.”

  Jonathon said nothing, but looked at Rob in time to see the look of askance cross his face. “Rob, I believe we have some fruit? Could you bring some in please?” Rob nodded at him and left the room.