by Romy Sommer
Once she’d taken her pictures and made her notes, they picked their way through the scrubby brush to reach the neighbouring bay.
A couple of hours later and Rik was starting to feel the effects of the midday heat. He sat on the sand in the shade of a Royal Poinciana tree and pulled water bottles and sandwich packets out of his rucksack.
“You need a break,” he called to Kenzie.
He had to admire her tenacity. She was not as fragile as she appeared. She’d kept up a rigorous pace as they hiked from bay to bay and still looked fresh as a flower, if a little flushed. Her hair clung damply to her neck and forehead, curling slightly in the heat. She flopped down beside him, gratefully accepted the bottle of water, and began to fan herself with her hat.
“You’re getting pink,” he observed.
“I know. It’s such a pain being this fair. I’m going to be horribly freckled when I get back to England.”
“It’s cute.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Cute is not the look I was going for.” She looked down the beach and sighed, a deep-throated purr of pleasure. “A couple of days ago I didn’t much like the Caribbean. I think I’m changing my mind. Everything seems more here. More colourful, more tasty, more aromatic.”
“More arousing.” He flashed a quick sidelong glance at her and grinned.
Although he hadn’t found these islands particularly arousing before Kenzie had walked into that beach bar.
She stretched out on the sand beside him, rolling onto her back to look up into the tangerine-coloured canopy above. “I think the sorcerer’s curse was really a blessing. I’m sure there aren’t many unspoilt places like this left in the world. I almost don’t want to bring the film crew here.”
“But you will.”
“I have to. It’s my job.”
“There are other places, other islands.”
“Yes, but there’s something special about these islands. Perhaps it’s that virgin territory thing. There’s never been a big film shoot here before, so I’ll be the first to discover it. I can put this place on the map.”
“What if it doesn’t want to be on any map?”
“Ask the mayor if he agrees with that. Films don’t just bring business in the short-term. They bring exposure, which brings tourists. And more tourists means more money and more jobs.”
“So is that why you chose to become a location scout. Out of philanthropy?”
She laughed. “No, and if you ask my parents they’ll tell you it was a very selfish choice. I became a location scout because it’s never boring. Every day is different. Every film shoot is different. I’ve scouted grand houses and farm cottages, cities and open countryside. And I’ve met all sorts of interesting people. Like you.” Her eyes lit up with a cheeky amusement as she looked at him. “And it’s a challenge. It’s a whole lot more than just taking pictures. You have to understand what the director wants, the angles and lenses he wants to use. And you need to know the production logistics too, and be a people person.” She rolled up onto her elbow to look at him. “Besides, I think if I had to work in an office, doing the same thing every day, I’d go insane.”
He used to work in an office, and he missed it. From the day he’d returned home from university, his father had given him his own office in the palace at Neustadt, and he’d assumed many of the duties and responsibilities that had been his father’s. He’d never once thought of what he might be missing beyond the palace walls. And he’d never wanted to be anywhere else.
He’d devoted himself to his country and his people, and what had he got in return? Exile.
All because of a routine DNA test.
In spite of everything, he still didn’t want to be anywhere else. He’d rather be there in his high-ceilinged office in the palace than here in paradise.
But there was no going back now. Not even for Max’s engagement party.
Kenzie tossed the empty sandwich packets and water bottles into the rucksack and jumped up. “Let’s get going. We’ve barely covered half the island. At this rate we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
At this rate he was going to need something to keep up with her … and it certainly wasn’t those little blue pills. He pushed himself to his feet, in no hurry to get moving.
No, there was no going back. But for the first time in months, he wanted to move forward. He looked forward to tomorrow.
Chapter Five
@KenzieCole101: I scaled mountains today – and have the pictures to prove it!
@LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 Knew you could do it! Crack open that minibar to celebrate.
@LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 PS: Simba sends his love. He misses you.
@KenzieCole101: @LeeHill Scratch him behind his ears for me
Kenzie arrived back in Los Pajaros more tired, more dusty and more freckled than she’d felt any other day she’d been here. They’d barely managed to explore half the bays and beaches of Tortuga before the sun began to dip and they’d headed home. But she had enough to make the director salivate, she was sure of that.
Tomorrow Rik would take her back so they could scout the island’s forested interior for the remaining locations on her list.
It had been a good day. No, it had been a great day.
She didn’t need a drink tonight with the same desperation as the night she’d met Rik, but she wanted to celebrate and once again the minibar in her room wasn’t going to cut it.
So as Rik handed her across the gap between boat and dock, she glanced up at him, feeling oddly shy. “Would you like a drink before you go?”
His answering grin definitely wasn’t shy. It was downright cocky, reminding her for a sickening moment of Charlie’s lopsided smile, and for half a second she regretted asking. “I’ve got a better idea. Join me for dinner.”
It wasn’t a question, she noticed. But her hackles no longer took the bait. Perhaps having spent a day in his presence she’d become immune to that commanding tone.
However, she definitely hadn’t grown immune to what he did to all the other parts of her body. Rik may have played the gentleman rather than the bad boy all day, but his tiny, fleeting touches were driving her insane. A hand on her elbow to help her over a log, a brush of her brow to wipe away a smudge … though she was pretty sure he’d made that last one up.
It was those less immune parts that started an excited jig at the thought of not having to call it quits on this day just yet.
But dinner? That was a far bigger commitment than a drink at the beach bar. And dinner with a devastating bad boy could lead to very bad places, as she knew from bitter experience. Still, she wasn’t that girl any more. She could handle a civilised, platonic meal out without losing all self-respect.
“We have an early start tomorrow,” she said, clinging to common sense but knowing it was a battle she was about to lose.
“You’ll still get your precious eight hours,” he teased.
And there it came, her impulsive heart over-ruling her oh-so-sensible brain. “Okay, I’d love dinner. The resort has a really good haute cuisine restaurant.”
“No, not the resort. There’s a seafood place in town I think you’ll enjoy.”
No, no, no, no. She was rapidly losing control here. She grabbed at the last lifeline she could find. “But you didn’t bring a car.”
“We’ll go by boat.” Then incorrectly interpreting the quick flash of panic across her face: “That first night was a one off. I won’t get drunk again and I’ll get you back here in one piece.”
It wasn’t his sailing ability she didn’t trust. She’d had plenty of opportunity today to watch him work. He might not talk much, but he seemed very competent. What she didn’t trust were her own instincts and her own ability to resist temptation. Three times she’d already got it very, very wrong, and no-one ever said ‘Fourth time’s the charm.’
And in the dark, with the moonlight and the roll of the ocean …
She sent up a swift prayer to the gods to protect what was left of her heart,
and nodded. “I’ll need to upload my photos and send them to London before we leave, though.” And she needed a shower. And she wondered if the resort boutique would still be open. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”
She hoped she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake agreeing to dinner.
She got back to the boat an hour and a half later, flustered, out of breath, her hair already escaping from its ponytail.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, instinctively taking the hand Rik held out to her and instantly regretting it. “Neil called to talk through what I’d sent him and I couldn’t get rid of him.”
Not that she’d wanted to. It was really nice to hear the words “well done, good job”. It had put her on such a high she hadn’t bothered to return her mother’s call. The inevitable disappointment in that conversation would definitely have killed her buzz.
Rik still had hold of her hand. “Look at that – you’re a girl!” His voice sounded indifferent, but his eyes were anything but.
She pretended a frown. “Of course I’m a girl.”
“I thought you didn’t own a dress?”
She waved a hand, dismissing the question and hoping her blush didn’t give her away. “I found this old thing in the bottom of the suitcase,” she lied.
The hotel’s boutique had still been open, and this short cocktail dress in a soft, clingy midnight blue had been an easy choice. It reminded her of Rik’s eyes, so dark a shade of blue they were almost black. The dress was too posh to go with the espadrilles but she didn’t want to look like she’d made too much effort.
Though the fact she was wearing make-up for the first time in months would have tipped off anyone who knew her.
Rik settled himself behind the wheel, and she took her now familiar spot on the cushioned bench beside him. The dress rode up her thighs, and she had to sit uncomfortably upright to keep her modesty. Perhaps she should have stuck with cargo pants after all.
This time Rik kept the sails furled and used the engine. They headed out to sea, but instead of turning left towards Fredrikshafen, he turned the boat right.
“Isn’t town the other way?” she asked.
“If you’re a tourist. The locals prefer the smaller fishing town of Christianstad on the other side of the island. The restaurants there aren’t priced for the day visitors from the cruise ships.” He grinned. “Are you up for a little adventure?”
“Always.” Though now she really wished she’d stuck with cargo pants and a tee shirt.
The boat hugged the shoreline and she was able to appreciate the wild beauty of the island in the evening light. She’d been so focussed on finding the locations listed on the detailed location brief she’d been given that she’d nearly missed the magic which was right under her nose.
On the horizon, the sun was a ball of fire, staining the sea crimson. As it sank, both sea and sky faded to vivid pinks and oranges, growing darker and darker until the light was gone, leaving nothing but a flash of green light so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it. Then the velvet darkness wrapped around them.
No lingering sunsets here in the tropics. It was all or nothing.
“Wow, that was incredible.” She breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, afraid she might break the magic spell.
“The sunsets are more spectacular in the winter months. There’s too much haze in the air in summer.” Rik turned the boat into an inlet between two high outcrops of land, mere shadows against the night sky.
In the apex of the bay, pinpricks of light bloomed out of the darkness as they drew nearer, turning into a jumble of single-storey houses. This was definitely not Fredrikshafen, with its massive modern marina, stylish boutiques and bright lights. The pier where Rik moored his boat consisted of rickety planks, lit only by swaying lanterns, and theirs was the only yacht amongst the fishing skiffs and dories.
“I guarantee this is the best meal you’ll eat in all the islands.” He took her hand as they walked down the pier.
She hoped so. She was starving. Those sandwiches they’d shared on the beach at Tortuga seemed light years away.
The restaurant was little more than a thatched bar, open to the elements on all sides, with mismatched tables and chairs set out on a wooden deck overhanging the sea. A few locals in work-roughened clothes sat at the bar, and the only occupants of the deck were a handful of young men in gaudy shirts and board shorts drinking beers.
“Instructors from the local scuba school,” Rik said, following her gaze.
The instructors waved and the locals at the bar greeted him in a language she didn’t recognise. Kenzie wondered if they knew who he really was – or at least who he had been. Their looks held respect, but none of the awe the mayor seemed to hold him in.
Rik let go of her hand to return their greetings, and she instantly felt the loss of the contact. Then he placed his hand on her lower back to direct her onto the deck. Familiar, slow heat radiated out from his touch.
The kind of heat that made that oh-so-sensible brain of hers reel.
She hadn’t known until now how much she missed human contact. Cuddling Lee’s cat was all well and fine but it didn’t come close to the heart-thumping touch of a gorgeous man.
Rik chose a table right on the very edge of the deck, away from the others, where a light breeze rolled in off the sea, smelling of adventure and anticipation.
A beaming waiter appeared at their side. “Welcome back, Mr Rik.”
“Hello Juan.”
Juan lit the candles on the table, covering them with sawn-off plastic bottles to keep the lively breeze from extinguishing them.
There were no menus, just a chalkboard listing the day’s catch. The array of cocktails however, painted in bright-coloured lettering on a board over the bar, was impressive.
“What would you like?” Rik asked.
“A mojito.” It was her favourite cocktail, but here, beneath the star-spangled velvet sky, seemed a far better place to enjoy one than in a densely packed London club. She sighed and stretched back in her seat, allowing contentment and the lazy tropical heat to seep into her limbs.
“Make that two.”
When Juan left, she couldn’t resist teasing: “No rum and cola tonight?”
Rik pulled a face. “I’ll be happy never to taste it again. I made a fool of myself the other night, and I apologise. I offer you my thanks for assisting me.”
Now he sounded like a prince. She shrugged. “It’s what anyone would have done.”
“No, not anyone.”
“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just a sucker for trouble.” That’s what following one’s instincts tended to do for a girl. She glanced back at the bar. “So what was the special occasion you were celebrating the other night?”
He was silent for so long she was almost sure he wasn’t going to answer.
“It was my birthday.”
And he’d been alone.
Her heart squeezed tight, and the evening air filled with the sounds of voices from the bar and the breakers crashing on rocks below their deck.
“I’m sorry,” she managed at last. She looked quickly away again. “This isn’t the sort of place I’d have thought you’d visit.” She bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to know who he was. Wasn’t supposed to care either.
“Oh? What sort of place do you think I belong?” he asked. The mocking tone was back.
“You drive a Lamborghini and own a yacht. I’d have thought you’d be five star luxury all the way.”
“I hope I haven’t disappointed you?” He was definitely mocking her.
“Not at all. I’m done with trust fund babies. My best friend Lee and I have sworn that from now on we’re only dating men who have real jobs and earn their money the old-fashioned way.”
Rik grinned. “Sounds dull. I’d have expected something more adventurous from you. Besides, some would say inheriting it is the old-fashioned way.”
She scowled. “You know what I mean.”
“Then you’ll be p
leased to know that neither the Lamborghini nor the yacht are mine. They belong to a friend who’s kindly letting me stay in his guesthouse.”
“Very pleased.” She gave up trying to secure the paper napkin in her lap and instead wedged it under the cutlery.
Still didn’t mean she was going to let the setting or the man get to her head. Just because he didn’t own the bling didn’t mean he was a regular Joe with a job. She’d bet her beloved camera that, deposed or not, the former prince had a trust fund. He certainly had all the arrogance that went with it, though he didn’t look particularly arrogant right now. Sobriety suited Rik. He seemed a whole lot happier today. No, maybe not happy. There was a constant brooding darkness in his eyes, and he never truly relaxed, but at least he was smiling more today.
Juan delivered their mojitos along with a platter of pieces of pale white meat on a bed of lettuce.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“It’s raw conch marinated in lime juice, a local delicacy.”
“Aren’t conches shells?”
“Shellfish. You’re not allergic?”
She shook her head. “I can eat anything. Once.” She took a fortifying sip of her mojito first. Yum. Definitely better than any she’d had before. Then she stuck her fork into a piece of conch, closed her eyes and tasted.
An explosion of flavour hit her tongue. The conch was chewy, a little like calamari, but full of subtle flavours. “Wow! It’s almost better than sex.”
He grinned. “Then you obviously haven’t been having the right kind of sex.”
“I said almost.”
“You’re not sorry I brought you here?”
No. Not sorry he’d brought her to this restaurant and not sorry she’d agreed to dinner. This was way better than room service alone in a bland hotel room. And the mojito was way better than those over-priced little bottles of wine in the minibar.
Rik sipped his drink, his expression becoming pained. “This reminds me of something … ” He swallowed. “Oh god! It tastes just like your concierge’s hangover remedy.” He pushed the glass towards her. “Another drink I may never be able to face again.”