Strolling into the great room, I wondered if I’d see Nigel before I left. I figured if the happy faces around me were anything to go by, Nigel’s party was a smashing success. What I wanted to know, though, was why he’d invite me when he knew he’d be busy all night.
“He’s already bought the property,” a woman was saying to a group of six middle-aged men and women closest to the fireplace.
They were all casually dressed. Most of the men wore baggy khakis while the women had come in pretty print dresses. Unlike my wild and wavy, I’m about to go walk the street hairstyle, the women had opted for more appropriate, understated looks. I felt way overdone in my slinky dress and big hair, and only now was able to admit to myself that rather than dressing for the occasion, I’d dressed with the express purpose of attracting Nigel’s attention. Unfortunately, I’d seen little of Nigel all night.
“He signed the papers…” the woman, a brunette, glanced at her watch and frowned, “…about an hour ago.”
“So it’s a go,” a chestnut haired male said. “How soon till they break ground?”
The woman shrugged. “Clyde says they still have to work out the details.”
A tall, lanky figure in a floral sundress set her wineglass on the mantle then turned to face the group. “Important thing is that there’s no going back now.”
“I’m still amazed he was able to convince the town council to agree to this,” the man said, swiping at a lock of hair that had fallen over his brow.
“Money talks,” the lanky one said knowledgeably. “And from all the reports I hear, Nigel Browning has plenty of money. Besides, a small, tastefully done resort will bring a lot of money to town.”
Curiosity piqued, I edged closer. Just how much money did Nigel have?
“Where is he now?” another of the group wanted to know.
The brunette cast a glance around the room, her eyes darting from one cheery assemblage to another. “He’s not here.”
Tall and lanky waved her hand in dismissal. “He could be anywhere. You know those rich eccentric types. He’s not the most social person in the world, is he.”
This was a statement, not a question.
I was having a difficult time reconciling the creature they spoke of with the man I’d known this week. Rather than seeming a business-minded eccentric, Nigel seemed playful and easy going. Okay, so he could be a bit of a showoff at times, but what man wasn’t.
Having grown weary of the conversation, I retraced my steps out of the room, toward the forbidden kitchen where a tiny woman was busily moving around. Her head jerked up the moment I entered. She walked faster than I would have thought possible, her chubby legs moving with a quick efficiency that set her in my path before I could reach my destination—the deck.
“I told you.” She held up a hand to further bar me. “No guests! Mr. Browning—”
“It’s all right, Jane.”
Jane and I turned in unison.
Mr. Browning himself was ascending a set of stairs. His formal, double-breasted suit was unbuttoned. He’d rolled the jacket sleeves up to his elbows and loosened his tie. His hair was bound in a rubber band and I enjoyed seeing his face without any stray strands of hair blocking the view.
Nigel was a handsome man Devastatingly handsome.
“I was about to go looking for you,” he continued. “What mischief are you getting into tonight?”
I couldn’t help but smile at him. “Apparently nothing half as interesting as you. I thought this was a party, not a business gathering.”
He came to stand in front of me, a frown drawing his perfect lips down. “What do mean?”
“The contract signing, the purchased land…” figuring I’d said enough, I trailed off.
“Oh, that.” He waved it off. “It’s no big deal.”
“You’ve been here two months, sounds like a big deal to me.”
He leaned down and pecked my forehead. “You look exquisite tonight. Please, come celebrate with me.”
Saying this, he started out of the room. But to my vast astonishment, he didn’t go to the door that would take him in the direction of the great room, but out the back and onto the deck.
“Where are you going?” I demanded, close on his heels.
“It’s too nice to stay inside. And you haven’t seen my boat.”
“Your boat?”
He paused to look over his shoulder. “Come with me, Stella.”
“But you have guests. You just can’t go strolling—”
“My guests are fine. Jane can oversee things, can’t you Jane?” He didn’t wait for Jane to answer. “Come on, Stella. I want to celebrate.”
I glanced at Jane, who smiled and shooed me out the back door.
As soon as I was out in the cool night air, I couldn’t help but sigh my pleasure. Below the deck the sand seemed to glow in the moonlight; the crystalline particles were so small and fine. The water looked syrupy and black, save the point where ocean met shore and the crashing waves were a frothy, creamy white. The waves crested in the distance, sending jets of water rocketing violently into the air and falling in a mist back to the earth. The sound of the crashing waves filled the night air.
Nigel wrapped an arm around my waist and squeezed. “We won’t be going far. I only want to feel the water beneath me. I want to pretend to be out in the open seas. There’s nothing in the world like sailing.”
The back deck opened onto a two hundred foot dock. Nigel led me onto the sturdy wooden planks then down the length toward a bobbing object on the water. The wood creaked beneath us, writhed with every step but I barely noticed this. My attention was fixed on the boat.
“That’s your boat?” I asked, thinking boat didn’t seem an adequate word describe what I was looking at.
“I use it to get back and forth to the marina where my yacht is docked.”
I looked up at him, curious. “Why not dock the other one here too?”
“Too big.”
Too big? The boat I was looking at was pretty big. It was a sleek, white liner that seemed to have been designed with speed in mind. It looked about forty feet long, had tinted windows and enough seating to accommodate five people comfortably. From where I was standing I could see there was a lower level. If this was the commuter boat, just how big was this other boat?
We walked to the edge of the dock where the water lapped at the planks. Nigel stepped onto the rear landing of the sleek cruiser and offered me his hand.
I glanced down at the boat, unsure if I should do this. At the beginning of the week I hadn’t wanted to be in the same house as this man, yet there I was a few days later going on a night cruise with him. A night cruise to his yacht, no less. And we both knew what would happen once we reached our destination.
“It’s absolutely safe, Stella. I promise. You’ll love it.”
“How far is this marina?”
“A few miles. I’ve called my crew and they’re waiting for us so you can’t back out.”
“When did you do that? I never said I’d go sailing with you.”
“Hope burns eternal.”
I groped for another excuse. “Ann and Gerard, they’ll be looking for me.”
His brow arched and he shook his head. “No they won’t. I told them I was taking you out on my boat.”
“And they didn’t want to come?”
“They did. But I told them it was a private cruise…for two.”
I glanced down at the water splashing between the boat and the dock and grimaced. “What if I fall in the water?”
Nigel threw his head back and laughed. “Are you really that clumsy? I’ll give you a life preserver. Believe me, it’s perfectly safe.”
“Well…maybe.”
“If you fall in the water I’ll jump in and get you. Come on, Stella. Live a little.”
I supposed he was right. It wasn’t as if taking a boat ride was the most dangerous thing in the world. After all, I rode the water taxis in Baltimore frequently when I was at th
e harbor and didn’t feel like walking to Fells Point. This had to be practically the same thing.
I reached for Nigel’s hand and let him guide me onto the boat.
It wasn’t the same thing. Not by a long shot. The water taxis were not equipped to go so fast.
Nevertheless, once we’d been racing over the water for a few minutes and I was settled on a seat beyond the wheel where Nigel was steering, I felt it was safe enough to loosen my grip on the chair and unclench my teeth.
“You all right?” Nigel called over his shoulder.
The water was choppy, making the boat bounce wildly, which I wasn’t too crazy about. Still, I figured if Nigel wasn’t worried there was no reason I should be. He seemed to know what he was doing. Plus, if the boat flipped the life jacket would keep me from drowning. I wished it wasn’t fluorescent orange, but beggars couldn’t be choosy. “Yeah, I’m all right.”
“This is an Ocean Cruiser 360…a motor yacht. She runs like a dream. Saw her and knew I had to have her. She’s small enough for me to take on long trips but large enough for me to sleep comfortably for days on end if I get myself in a sticky situation and have to hideout.”
Briefly I wondered what exactly a real estate developer could do to get himself in a situation where he’d need to hide out on a motorboat.
“There’s a small sitting area downstairs and a bed. It’s very comfortable. Why don’t you have a look?”
The boat bounced and jounced around some more. “No thank you,” I yelled over the humming motor. “I’m fine.”
He glanced back and gave me his signature flash of teeth. “Don’t worry, Stella. We’re just about there.”
“Good. I hope your other boat runs smoother on the water than this one.”
I could hear him laughing, but chose not to respond. I was too nervous to be offended.
9:27 p.m.
I stood in what he called his saloon, gaping like a fish out of water. Even before I’d stepped onto the massive vessel, I knew Nigel’s “boat” wouldn’t be like anything the average person could have afforded, and I was right. For all intents and purposes, his “boat” was a floating palace.
The “boat” had a seven-man crew, which included Nigel’s personal chef. Mind you, this wasn’t the chef who’d been at the beach house all day preparing the meal for his little get together. He’d hired a local caterer to do that.
The crew had hung around long enough for introductions to be made, then they seemed to spontaneously evaporate on Nigel’s command. In a matter of seconds only Nigel and I were standing in the saloon. He proceeded to show me around, taking me up to the sky lounge first, then on to the very top of the boat to the sundeck where two circular tables sat nakedly under the stars. There were also two enormous, chaise lounges positioned at either side of the deck. They looked incredibly comfortable with their velvety cushions and fat pillows.
We breezed through the upper aft deck where another, larger table had been set up. There was an interior dining area as well, but Nigel didn’t waste much time in there.
“Where do you sleep?” I’d asked once we were back in the saloon.
He pointed toward the floor. “Below.”
I met his gaze and for the first time saw the repressed desire glinting in his eyes. After being with him on the sundeck under the stars, his eyes seemed luminescent in the artificial light, and bright with expectation. If I had any doubt that we both knew how this evening would end, one look in Nigel’s eyes would have shown me the truth.
Instead of coming forward and taking me in his arms, though, he stepped away from me. “Make yourself at home,” he offered. “I’ll be back shortly.”
I glanced around the room as he retreated, unsure of how to entertain myself until he returned. There was a chess table set up in a corner, but the marble and crystal board seemed too fragile to risk touching. Neither did the sofas seem very inviting. Everything was so pristine I had to wonder how often Nigel used this room. It was like walking into one of those housing development sales models, decorated with the sole purpose of selling a home. Various hued throw pillows were plumped and positioned at perfect angles in an even line across the sofas. Two armchairs sat beneath a wall of windows, and they too had perfectly plumped pillows set atop them.
The room was very nice, but too formal for me to feel comfortable enough to make myself at home in. So instead of sitting, I crossed to the windows and gazed out at the night sky.
I wondered how things were going with Meagan and Peter. Had she already confessed her feelings for him, or was she waiting for just the thing moment? Had Katarina gone through with her plan to have anal sex? If she had I hoped Jim had been gentle with her.
Then just like that, I’d had an epiphany, the epiphany being that I hadn’t thought about Jake or Dev in hours. I had to laugh at myself. On Sunday I’d been stricken with the thought of spending a week at the beach without them. Here it was, my last night, and I was wishing I could stay longer. Hell, I could even admit that I was glad they hadn’t come. If they had, I would never have met Nigel.
And I didn’t want to wonder where things would lead with Nigel. This was a vacation thing for us and we both knew it. I could accept that. I’d cast my cares aside and enjoy the hell out of this, my last night with him.
“Ms. Rice?”
I turned and saw a copper-haired crewmember was standing just inside the entrance. His uniform was crisply pressed. When he motioned me forward, I thought I could hear the starched material crunch.
“Mr. Browning is waiting for you on the sundeck.”
“I think he told me to wait for him here.”
The man stood stiff, his close-cropped hair shinning brilliantly under the light. He gave me one shake of his head and motioned me forward with a wave of his hand. “He waits on the sundeck. Please come with me.”
I shrugged and followed.
The moment I ascended the stairs and saw the tableau before me, I knew this would be a night to remember.
Numerous candles had been positioned around the deck. The candlelight flickered and seemed somehow even more beautiful under the starry sky. A bucket of chilling wine sat beside the table, and Nigel sat, legs crossed, waiting for me. When he saw me mount the stairs he got to his feet, a wide grin on his face.
“Stella!” he announced, as though he hadn’t been sure I’d come.
“Nigel,” I said, crossing to him. Even as I walked I could hear the retreating footsteps of my temporary guide. In mere seconds, I knew Nigel and I were alone.
I past the lounging chairs and made my way to the table, my heels clicking loudly against the floor. “This is nice,” I said, spinning in place so I could take in everything. Not only had candles been lit and wine brought up, but also the beautiful music of Faure was rising from hidden speakers. I thought the composer too somber for a romantic evening, but I wasn’t about to complain.
“Have a seat,” he said and motioned toward the semi-circular sofa where he’d been reclining.
I settled onto a fat cushion and positioned my dress so the gaping slit didn’t show quite so much leg. The weather was balmy tonight, so I’d ventured out without pantyhose. Now, sitting alone with Nigel on his yacht as we drifted away from the marina, I felt half-naked.
Nigel sat at the opposite end of the table, his eyes trained on my face. “Wine?”
I nodded.
As he poured, I took in my surroundings, completely thunderstruck at how I’d managed to get myself on a yacht drinking wine with a wealthy playboy.
“So tell me about yourself, Stella,” he said, drawing me from my private thoughts.
“What do you want to know?”
His eyes were steady on mine as he spoke, making me feel exposed and laid open for him.
“Tell me how you started your business.”
“You don’t want to know about that. Compared with what you do, my little business is boring.”
“I want to know why a Near Eastern Studies scholar who has been out on
digs would give up her dream.”
I took the glass he handed me but didn’t drink immediately. “How do you know it was a dream?”
He lifted his glass and carefully pressed the rim to his mouth. His eyes fluttered shut once the pale liquid touched his lips. “Because I graduated with a degree in anthropology…Sigma Cum Laude of course,” he added. “I know how it feels.”
“So you tell me why you’re not an anthropologist.”
He lifted his hands, a gesture meant to take in everything around us. “Do you really need to ask?”
“Yeah. So you make a lot of money. Money isn’t everything.”
“But it’s damn close. I’m fortunate though. I make enough money to sponsor a dig every few years. When time permits I can go out to the dig sites and take part…as a lowly volunteer, but it’s better than nothing. I couldn’t stand to be completely away from it. I love it too much. But I couldn’t exist on the pauper’s salary anthropologists make.”
“I guess I can relate to that. Though I didn’t go into history with any great desire to take part in digs, teach, or even work in a museum.” I shrugged. “I like history. It was simple as that.”
“So you don’t see yourself ever going into the field?”
“Not professionally. I try to get out to a dig at least once a year, but that’s about all.”
Nigel grinned. “Ha! I knew it. You love it too. When was your last dig?”
“Last year. I went to Tel Hazor in Israel. I’ve gone every year for the last five or so years.”
“Five years, eh. It must be a great site to have captured your interest so thoroughly. Tell me about it.”
I began ticking off points on my left hand. “Mid Bronze to Iron Age, largest site in Israel, Canaanite remains, and of most interest to me, remains of the Biblical Israelites.”
THE CHRONICLES OF STELLA RICE: APRIL Page 8