Caribbean Escape with the Tycoon

by Rosanna Battigelli

  Chanelle’s mind whirled. “Maybe Mariah has something I could borrow?” She looked down at her yellow dress, its thin cotton material plastered to her body and revealing the navy bikini underneath. Her neck started prickling with discomfort, and she pulled the towel more snugly around her.

  “Maybe,” he said, his gaze telling her that he had observed the revealing state of her clothes. “But she’s busy now, and I’m not going anywhere until we fix up those knees. Before they get infected...”

  He motioned for her to proceed into the ensuite bathroom and to sit down on a black leather chair near the marble-sided shower stall. Chanelle was dazzled by the gleaming luxury of the room, with its sleek granite countertop, floor of diagonal white and black marble tiles, and crystal spiral light fixture.

  “I can take care of them,” she told him. She winced. “I’ll just need—”

  “Don’t move, Chanelle,” he said firmly. “I have everything I need in my medicine cabinet. Now just hold tight and it will be over in a few minutes...” His mouth quirked. “You look like a wet little duckling in that yellow dress. And no, not the one in the fairy tale,” he added quickly. “Quite the opposite.”

  She flushed. He was delusional if he thought she looked pretty. She had caught a glimpse of herself in the large vanity mirror above the black granite countertop. Her hair framed her face in tangled ropes, and her eye makeup had smeared and run under her eyes in black and navy streaks.

  Yeah, real pretty.

  Vance strode over to a gleaming white cabinet, withdrew a few items and deposited everything on the side table next to Chanelle. “I’ll be back in a second,” he told her.

  She was tempted to start cleaning up her knees on her own. He had brought over a bottle of antiseptic, some sterile cotton gauze sponges, a couple of wide bandages and some antibacterial ointment. But as she went to grab the bottle, he returned with a chair from his bedroom.

  He wagged a finger at her. “Now, now, Miss Robinson...” He deposited the chair opposite her, grabbed a lined wastepaper basket and set it down beside his chair. He washed his hands in the sink, and Chanelle felt like squirming when he glanced in the mirror a couple of times and caught her watching him. After drying his hands, he sat down on the chair.

  “Okay, let’s do this.” He took a deep breath and poured some of the antiseptic on a gauze sponge. He leaned forward and was eye to eye with Chanelle. “I’ll need your leg, miss,” he murmured.

  Chanelle stared at him. He raised his eyebrows. “Oh...” She blinked.

  Did he want her to stretch out her leg on his lap?

  He held out his hand. “May I?”

  “Okay.”

  What else could she say?

  She was already barefoot, having removed her soaked sandals in the sunroom. She extended her leg slowly and tried to keep her breathing steady as Vance put one hand under her calf and the other under her ankle before placing her right leg on his left thigh.

  “Okay,” he repeated. “Now this might just sting a lit—”

  Chanelle let out a cry as the antiseptic soaked into the scraped areas, and her arms flailed, throwing the towel off her shoulders.

  “I’m sorry, Chanelle. I know it must sting like hell. But we have to clean it out.”

  “Just hurry,” she replied through gritted teeth and gripped the sides of the chair. Chanelle closed her eyes as he poured and dabbed, using a new gauze pad for each area. She felt like her knee was on fire, and it took all she had not to jerk her leg and accidentally kick him in the face.

  “Okay, there, there. Your wound is clean. I’m just going to put some of this antibacterial ointment on the bandage and cover it lightly.”

  Despite the throbbing in her knee, Vance’s soothing voice was helping her to relax a bit. But he still had her other knee to tend to...

  He set her leg down gently and lifted her other one onto his thigh. “Okay, here goes. We’re almost done.”

  “You haven’t even started the torture,” she retorted, her eyes already closed.

  “You’re being very brave, Chanelle,” he said solemnly before applying the antiseptic.

  This time she did jerk her leg as she cried out, and when her foot made solid contact, she opened her eyes to see Vance holding his hands over his mouth and jaw.

  “Oh, my God,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kick you.”

  “I think some teeth are loose and are about to fall out,” he said, his voice muffled behind his hands. “Oh, well, it’s a good thing I’ve given up my status as a playboy.” He shrugged. “Because I’m pretty sure being toothless is not one of the prerequisites.”

  Chanelle watched anxiously as he moved his hand away, expecting to see blood and teeth spill out. He gave her a sudden grin, and she saw that his teeth were intact.

  Perfectly intact.

  She glowered at him. “That was not necessary. You scared me.”

  “I’m sorry, Chanelle.” He gave a soft laugh. “I just couldn’t resist...”

  She pursed her lips and then smiled. “Apology accepted. I’ll try to resist kicking you again.” She closed her eyes and then reopened them. “But I can’t promise.”

  “Duly noted. Now let’s finish this operation. My other patients are waiting.”

  Chanelle felt a warm stirring inside at their banter. And then clenched her teeth as Vance proceeded with the next round of dabbing. When the second bandage was in place, Vance looked at her quizzically.

  “I’ve cleaned all around your knees,” he said, “but we still have to get some mud off you.” He looked pointedly at the streaks on her lower legs.

  “I can do that myself,” she told him. “I’ll sit on the edge of the tub and wash it off.” She eyed the streaks her feet and legs had left on his jeans. “And I think you’ll need to wash up as well, Dr. Vancelot. And dry.”

  She felt a warm rush as he smiled at her, his eyes a startling azure. “Um... I’ll just need a clean towel,” she added.

  “Right in the tall cabinet,” he murmured. “And I’ll use the guest washroom in the room next door.” He strode to the door. “You should change into dry clothes right away, Chanelle.” His gaze dropped to her legs. “My pants certainly won’t fit you, but I do have a pair of light pajamas with a tie belt.” His mouth curved. “I’ll leave them and some T-shirts on the bed for you...and Mariah can find something for you afterward.”

  * * *

  Vance let the warm jets of water pulsate over his body in the guest room shower. He felt some of the tension ease out of his neck and shoulder muscles. For all his levity with Chanelle a few moments ago, he hadn’t been as relaxed as she might have thought.

  First of all, the fear of what might have happened to Adrien had made every nerve and muscle in his body so tight that he could still feel a residual ache. And then learning that Chanelle had gone out...

  Discovering them in the gazebo had made Vance almost collapse with relief. But he had had to be strong for the both of them. Strong physically and emotionally. The physical side had been the easy part. Carrying Adrien inside and then carrying Chanelle upstairs, no sweat. It had been the emotional part that had drained him. Staying calm when he wanted to scream his frustration at every minute of his search that had proven fruitless.

  In these past nine months at the helm of Zodiac Cruises, Vance had taken his position seriously, and as he had vowed after his father’s death, he had stepped up to the plate and taken control. Out in the storm, he had felt all control slipping away from him. He had not been able to control either Adrien or Chanelle from going out and potentially putting themselves in danger.

  He could have lost either one of them.

  A lightning strike, a heavy falling tree branch, a misstep causing them to slip into the water or hit their head on something and pass out—any of these situations could have happened.

 
Vance had experienced the feeling of pure helplessness out in the storm.

  And it had shaken him to the core.

  But despite this feeling, his instinct to protect his family had kicked in. Every last neuron in his body had been primed to battle the elements and bring his loved ones back home safely.

  Home. It wasn’t the villa, beautiful though it might be. Home was the people in it, the people you loved.

  His home was his family.

  And Chanelle.

  The storm had shaken up his thinking, too. His thoughts about commitment, about trust.

  And if he had hesitated in the past about commitment, it was simply because the right woman hadn’t been in his life at the time.

  Chanelle was the right woman. He felt it in his gut. And he was ready to shift the scales in his life and find a balance between work and love.

  Images of Chanelle flashed in his mind, from the first time he had seen her grab hold of Adrien with her white jeans and fuchsia T-shirt, to her elegant skirt and black top in the Mezza Luna Ristorante, and to that sexy white dress splashed with red poppies... And the yellow dress she was wearing now, wet and clinging to her body, revealing her bikini underneath...

  Yes, her physical beauty had aroused his senses, but it had been her inner beauty that had touched his soul. Chanelle was kind, sensitive, courageous, funny, hardworking...and she loved kids.

  His pulse quickened at the thought of having children one day...a thought he had never seriously contemplated until now.

  But that would mean having a woman—Chanelle—being as committed to him as he was to her.

  Aren’t you jumping the gun a bit? His inner voice shoved its way into his consciousness. You haven’t even told Chanelle that you want to be in a committed relationship. You just told her you’ve given up your playboy lifestyle, explained about Pauline, and then you kissed her. Get with the program, buddy. If you want her, you’ll have to get more creative. A kiss alone isn’t going to do it.

  Vance smiled ruefully. No, he hadn’t made it clear to Chanelle how he felt. But the storm had made his feelings clearer to him. Now he just had to figure out how and when to communicate those feelings to Chanelle.

  Vance stepped out of the shower and dried himself brusquely with a large, plush towel before changing into white Bermuda shorts and a turquoise shirt.

  In the shower, Vance had come up with a crazy idea that would show Chanelle how committed he was to her...but he needed to sketch out his ideas on paper. And once he was satisfied with his plan, he would present it to her.

  When Vance returned to his room, he was disappointed that Chanelle had already gone. He checked the time on his phone. They had about an hour and a half before the tender returned to pick them up to head back to the Aquarius. Looking out his balcony doors, he was relieved to see that the storm had diminished significantly to a light sprinkle, and the skies had brightened. There was no danger that they wouldn’t be able to return to the ship.

  He sat down at his desk. He would work on his idea before going downstairs. And if he didn’t get the chance to share it with Chanelle before heading back, he’d save it until later tonight at the gala.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHANELLE HAD FELT a little strange, sitting on the edge of Vance’s bathtub in her bikini, rinsing off her legs. How could she not imagine him soaking in it, with the jets sending water swirling all over his body?

  It was so unnerving...

  He’d laid out three T-shirts and a pair of pajama bottoms with alternating loons and red maple leaves—that reminded her of the tie he’d worn for the Canada evening—and the words Loony for You on the rear.

  Really? In any other situation, she would have found the Canadian-themed pajamas amusing, but all she could think about was how ridiculous she would look in them. With a sigh, she changed into a black T-shirt and the pajamas and headed downstairs.

  At least her face and hair no longer looked like she had come out of some lagoon, she thought. Chanelle found Mariah and Adrien in the kitchen. Mariah laughed when she saw the loony pajamas. “Don’t mind me,” she said. “I can’t help cracking up every time I see those. Can you tell Vance is a proud Canadian? Right down to his pajamas. And boxers. But don’t tell him I told you.” She laughed again.

  “Don’t tell me what?” Vance said, entering the room. “That Adrien’s eating all my cookies?” He winked, ruffling Adrien’s hair.

  “Nice pants, Chanelle,” Vance continued, chuckling. “You’re welcome to keep them as a souvenir.”

  Chanelle’s mouth dropped, and Mariah burst out laughing. “I can see how thrilled you are, Chanelle. Come on, let’s go wash and dry your clothes and see what we can find for you in my room.”

  Chanelle was aware that Vance was watching them as they walked out of the room. Or more specifically, her. His gaze had swept over her T-shirt, and she had a feeling that his gaze was now taking in the Loony for You on the rear of the pajamas.

  Upstairs, Mariah waited for Chanelle to get her wet dress and bikini and then proceeded to the laundry room. “They shouldn’t take long,” Mariah told her. “I’ll put them through the quick cycle.”

  “There’s no point in me borrowing your clothes, then.”

  “Okay, well, do you want to come back downstairs or wait in the guest room? There’s a fabulous window seat with a great view, and a pile of books and magazines.”

  “I can wait in the guest room, thanks.”

  “No, thank you, Chanelle. Please know that you’re welcome to visit us here any time.”

  The guest room was bright and roomy, with coastal decor. The linens were done in white and sky blue, with big accent pillows in a fresh butter yellow. Chanelle sat down at the window seat and looked out at the brightening sky, trying to figure out why she felt a sudden sense of foreboding.

  Soon they would be back on the ship, and Coral Haven would be just a memory. She just wished she had been able to explore the island a little more, walk on the beach, swim in those jeweled waters...

  It had been kind of Mariah to invite her to come back and visit, but what reason would she have to come back to the Kingstons’ private island?

  Soon the cruise would be over, and she would have to make a decision about her job. That was the reality she faced. And sharing passionate kisses with Vance Kingston wasn’t going to change that reality. How could it?

  The anxiety she had felt searching for Adrien made her realize that she had also been anxious about returning to the same job. Important though it was, it was also highly stressful, and she had had more of her share of stress these past years.

  You’re stronger than you think, Vance had told her. You’ll know when the time is right.

  Maybe it was time to look at a career change.

  No, there was no maybe about it. It was time. Time to find something in a related field that wouldn’t take all her energy. That would allow her to lead a more balanced life.

  There! She had come to a decision! As soon as she returned home, she would start her search for a new job. And a new life. Chanelle automatically reached for her bracelet and realized with a jolt that it wasn’t on her left wrist. And then she remembered...she had left it on one corner of the tub.

  She would run in and retrieve it before Vance came back upstairs. And then she’d grab her clothes, dry them, get dressed, return to the ship and enjoy her remaining time on the cruise before getting back to reality.

  A reality that didn’t include Vance Kingston.

  While she was exploring other job options in Sault Ste. Marie, Vance would continue his job as president of Zodiac Cruises in Toronto. He had said that his playboy lifestyle was finished, and maybe it was.

  But the way he kissed you...

  So Vance had gotten carried away after some emotional sharing about his father...and so had she. But that didn’t mean Vance wanted anything mor
e. She had been a temporary diversion. He had encouraged her to have fun on the cruise. Live a little.

  She would be crazy to think that Vance Kingston could figure in her life after the cruise.

  * * *

  Chanelle bent forward to pick up her bracelet, trying to ignore the sudden heaviness in her chest.

  “Nobody ever showed me they were ‘loony for me’ quite like that before.”

  Chanelle froze outwardly, but inside, it felt like a lava flow.

  She straightened and turned around, holding out her bracelet. “I came back for this,” she said as evenly as she could. The room seemed to be closing in on her. She couldn’t breathe. She needed air.

  She wanted out. Out of the room, out of the villa, and off the island.

  And away from Vance.

  Away from the man she knew would only ever be a fantasy...

  Chanelle was too hot in Vance’s black T-shirt. It was making her suffocate. She wished she could just tear it off. And the stupid pajamas, too. She needed to go and get her clothes.

  Now, before she...

  * * *

  Vance leaped to catch Chanelle as she fainted. Her face had been flushed, and he had thought it was embarrassment at his comment—which he had instantly regretted—but he suspected that it was something else. Perhaps something to do with the barometric pressure, since she was highly sensitive to changes in temperature.

  Vance’s heart began to pound.

  Was she breathing?

  Her body had flopped onto his chest, and her head was drooping to one side. He placed his cheek against Chanelle’s neck and felt the fluttering of her pulse. Relieved, he lifted her and carried her to his bed, where he set her down gently.

  Vance raised both her feet and stuck a pillow underneath, while watching her mouth and eyes for any sign of movement. Had she been too hot? He couldn’t very well remove her shirt, though. He put her feet back down and felt for Chanelle’s pulse on the side of her neck.