“There’s a Jacuzzi on the sky deck, and another one forward,” he said. “Maybe we can have a nightcap there?”
“Maybe…” A simple nightcap? He said no pressure, and to be honest, she felt none. Instead, a thrum of excitement surged in her blood.
“You ready?” He gestured for her to board.
Ready for dinner, definitely. Ready for more? Maybe?
Once across the gangplank, Sally entered a world of luxury. Small pocket lights illuminated her way down the outer walkway. Derek gestured for her to head aft. Teak decking glowed with warmth beneath her heels.
She pulled up short, and he bumped into her from behind.
“What’s wrong?”
“My heels,” she said, remembering something about heels and boat decks. “Should I take them off?”
“You don’t need to worry about that on a boat like this. All the decks are constructed with teak.”
“Okay.”
Everywhere she looked, brass fittings reflected the glow from the lights, those recessed in the ceiling, those nestled close to the deck, and those lining the walls. The back deck was utilitarian but elegant.
And there was the source of the flickering light. A small pool nestled beneath the hard top canopy. A U-shaped waterfall cascaded over cut marble, spilling into a turquoise-blue pool. Couches and chairs formed intimate seating groups half under the canopy and the rest open to the sky.
A set of glass doors led inside and, etched into the glass, the translucent image of a kneeling nude woman, hands on knees, shoulders back, stared at something just out of sight. An expression of complete devotion graced her face.
The doors to the interior salon parted as Sally drew near. Soft, ambient background music welcomed her inside. Massive floor to ceiling windows looked out port, starboard, and to the bow. Pocket lights, recessed into a stamped tin ceiling, provided indirect lighting to the various sitting areas, without imparting irritating glare. The room was elegant and classy, yet still managed to convey the feeling of a cozy retreat.
Three sets of round-topped tables faced the starboard windows. On closer inspection, the tops had been engraved with various board games – checkers, chess, backgammon, and Chinese checkers. Everything was bolted to the deck.
Portside, four plush leather Captain seats faced outward, but it looked like they could swivel inward too, allowing the occupants to choose whether to gaze out the windows during a cruise or join in conversation with the center grouping of couches bordering a fur rug.
Behind each couch, long tables held bouquets of red roses. The table closest to her also had a bottle of champagne sitting in a wine chiller. Those were bolted down as well. Rose scent permeated the room, and she couldn’t help but take a deep breath. Roses weren’t her favorite flower, but they smelled fabulous. Five glasses had been set out. Derek walked over to the bottle and poured two flutes of champagne.
He handed her a glass and his left eyebrow quirked up. “Overwhelmed?”
She nodded. “I passed overwhelmed at the limo. I’ve never known someone who’s…”
He took a sip. “I’m still the same guy you met at the ballet.”
“Derek, this is amazing.” She spun in a slow circle, trying to take everything in.
Her life was comfortable as a Medical Examiner. She didn’t make the big bucks, like those in private practice, but she pulled in over six figures. There was nothing she needed she didn’t have, and most of the things she wanted she bought without much thought. Many would consider her well-off, perhaps even rich. She couldn’t comprehend the amount of money Derek handled.
“I imagine it must be difficult,” she said.
“What?”
“The classic cliché of course. How do you know a woman is interested in you or is just after your money?” She shrugged. “How can you trust them?”
A frown darkened his features. “I’m learning to pick carefully. I know what I want, and I’m willing to share what I have. I don’t expect anyone to give more than they can, and I don’t judge them for having less.”
He seemed to want to say more, but became silent.
The mood had turned more serious than she’d intended, so she tried to lighten it with a jab. “Or, she could have more.”
He cocked his head to the side. “There are very few single women who have more…”
He seemed lonely. What must it be like when wealth distanced a person from others? She supposed there were many reasons to feel alone in life.
“Where are your friends?”
The boat, with its three decks, and at least one below, was big enough to get lost on. The portholes at the water line were large and probably were where the staterooms were located. There had to be levels lower down for the engines and crew quarters.
“Hopefully, they’re all on board, considering we’ve left the dock.”
“We already left?” The boat barely moved, but there was a distinct thrum coming through the deck.
“Excuse me,” he said. “I need to speak with the crew. Will you be okay if I leave you alone for a minute?”
She sank into one of the couches and pressed the champagne flute to her lips. The fizz from the bubbles tickled her nose. She wet her lips, then smiled at him. “I’m good.”
He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, then headed forward where he disappeared behind a wood-paneled door. She stood and explored her surroundings.
A dining table occupied the space near the bow windows. To starboard, a fully stocked bar glistened with recessed lights. The many different kinds of liquor sparkled in more bottles than she cared to count. A curved set of stairs led below deck where she presumed the staterooms to be.
Curious, she paused at the top of those stairs, uncomfortable wandering around too much. It felt a little intrusive. She didn’t want to ruin the evening poking her nose around where it wasn’t welcomed.
The thrumming beneath her feet intensified, the only sign they truly were underway. No turning back now. She pulled out her phone and called George.
“Hey there,” she said.
“What’s up? Spill!”
“You wouldn’t believe where I am.”
“No kidding, since you haven’t spilled the beans yet.” A loud woof sounded in the background. Tank, George’s Newfoundland was saying ‘Hi.’
“Tell Tank I love him.”
“He doesn’t do that for anyone else, you know,” George said. “How he knows it’s you…”
“I helped you raise the pup. Tank knows my voice.” And his hearing was second only to his sense of smell. Newfoundlands were used in search and rescue for a reason.
“Pup? You realized Tank topped two hundred pounds at his last checkup right? And the vet said he wasn’t done growing.”
A bear of a dog, all shaggy black hair, with a brown muzzle, Tank stood slightly higher than her waist. “Well, give him a scritch for me.”
“Is that even a word?”
“Just rub him.”
“I’m still waiting,” George said. “Where did this Derek guy take you? Are you coming home tonight? Or, are you finally jumping in and doing a sleepover?”
“George!”
“Hey, I’ve been waiting for you to hop back in the sack. Just tell me this Derek guy has potential, and I’ll stop bugging you.”
She shared everything with George. While Derek hadn’t pushed the lifestyle, clearly it meant a great deal to him. Until she understood her role in Derek’s life, she’d keep things to herself.
“I’m on a yacht—”
“A what?” George screeched into the phone.
“A yacht. He’s taking me on a cruise of the Bay. We’re having dinner.”
“You’re alone on a boat with this man? Have you lost your ever-loving mind?” Recrimination hung heavy in his voice.
“Not alone. A few of his friends are with us. It’s okay. You don’t have to worry.”
“Worry? It’s my job to worry about you.”
“I took a
picture of the registry number.” She sent the picture to him. “If I don’t show up, call the Coast Guard.”
“Oh, you know I’ll do way more than that.”
George would call in favors.
“Well, can you hold off for a little bit? We’re going to be out late.” Derek had mentioned dawn.
“You call me,” George threatened. “If I don’t hear from you by midnight, I’m calling the cavalry. If things are good, tell me to give Tank a goodnight kiss. If you need help, just say something else.”
“Like a code word?”
“Exactly like a code word. I need to know you’re okay. Are you?”
“Yes, George, and while you’re at it, give Tank a kiss for me.”
“That’s my girl. Enjoy your night.”
She intended to try.
Chapter 9
The Second Deck
As soon as Sally ended the call with George, Ellen walked up the curved stairs from below decks.
“Hey Sally,” she called out.
Sally admired the gorgeous red-head, wistful to have even a tenth of her beauty. Ellen had let her hair down. Red curls cascaded downward, bouncing over her shoulders and plunging down to sway against the small of her back. Her cheeks were flushed, and she appeared out of breath. The vivid red lipstick she had on earlier had been wiped away.
“Hi.” Sally gripped her champagne glass and took a sip.
“I’ve been sent to pour champagne.” Ellen’s gaze flicked to Sally’s glass. “I see Derek has already taken care of yours.” She glanced around the salon. “Where is he?”
Sally took another sip. “He went to speak to the crew.”
“I’m surprised he’d leave you alone. He can be quite the control freak.”
The ease of Ellen’s smile helped Sally relax. “I’m getting a sense of that.”
“Well, it’s a bonus for us.”
“How’s that?”
“We get a moment to ourselves.”
Sally set her glass on a table and peered outside. The Sea-duction moved slowly through the narrow channel leading out of the marina.
Ellen wiggled the cork out of the open champagne bottle and poured two glasses. “I’ve been dying to meet you.”
“Really?”
“Definitely. I’ll probably get in trouble for saying anything, but it’s been awhile since Derek has been excited by anyone, let alone asked us to meet her—well, meet you.”
There had to be an appropriate response, but for the life of her, whatever that might be escaped her for the moment. Instead, she brought the glass to her lips again. Conscious not to drink too much, she merely wet her lips while taking a moment to collect her thoughts.
She and Derek had been talking every night for weeks. Their conversations, now that she thought about it, had been remarkably one-sided. Derek knew all about her love affair with the ballet, and how her mother had been a big part of that. They’d talked about her mother’s illness, the treatments, and her death.
With time, he broached the topic of Thomas, something she found difficult to speak about with another man. Derek eased her fears, working around her insecurities, and made the conversation easy. He appeared truly interested in her life with Thomas and respectful of the relationship. While pursuing, he never once minimized or tried to push aside the lingering feelings she had regarding her dead husband.
During all of those talks, she’d told him about her childhood and her medical studies. He thought her job odd, not understanding why she’d chosen to examine the dead instead of treat the living. They’d talked hours, and yet he’d said very little about himself. There’d been hints of his wealth, but he’d hidden the true extent of it, and she still didn’t know what he did for a living. Not once had he mentioned his friends.
“There’s not much to tell about me.”
Ellen hitched her hip on the table and gathered her long hair over her shoulder, finger combing her curls into submission. “Well, you work with dead people.” She laughed. “I’m sorry, but do you ever feel like saying I see dead people?”
Sally laughed. “I get that a lot.”
“You must have the most interesting job.”
“It can be. Most days it’s pretty boring, but then there are days like today when it’s more challenging.”
“I bet.” Ellen downed her glass and then refilled it. “I like you,” she pronounced, lifting her glass into the air. “You’re smart. Not like the bimbo wannabes he’s been dating lately. I need someone I can have an intelligent conversation with. I get so tired talking about makeup and dresses and frivolous crap.” She waved her hand in the air, nearly sloshing the champagne over the rim. She took another long pull, emptying half the glass. “You and I are going to be good friends, just don’t tell M I snuck in a second glass,” she said with a wink.
“Don’t tell me what?” Warren arrived with a huff and a curse. His shock of red hair proceeded him up from the stairs. He struggled to button his tuxedo jacket.
Ellen put her champagne flute down and glided over. Slapping his hands away, she fastened the buttons. “There,” she said, patting his chest. “You look like a gentleman again.”
“Don’t know why Derek is insisting on a formal dinner. Damn tuxes are obnoxious. Besides,” he said with a twinkle in his eye, “you look best with nothing on.”
“M,” Ellen said with a quirk of her brows, “behave.”
Warren turned his attention to Sally. “Where’s your date?”
“Talking to the crew, M,” Ellen answered. “If this is a formal dinner, does that mean we all get to sit at the table?”
Sally pinched her brows together, wondering what that even meant. Where else would everyone sit?
Warren grabbed his wife, lifting up to kiss her hard on the mouth, and left Ellen gasping when he released her.
“Yes, dear, we’ll all be at the table.” He turned to Sally. “Would you like to join us outside on the deck? It’s too pretty a night to waste in here.”
She didn’t need convincing because she was dying to see more of the yacht. Warren grabbed a bottle of champagne and tucked it under his arm.
He led her back the way she’d come, past the waterfall with its exorbitant pool, and up a set of stairs to the second deck. He took a seat on a canvas covered couch while Ellen kicked off her heels and padded across the indoor/outdoor carpet to a console in the middle of the deck.
Soon, Ellen had soothing jazz piping in over hidden speakers, setting a sultry tone. The engines rumbled beneath Sally’s feet, felt more than heard, and a light breeze lifted her hair as the yacht cut through the dark waters. She sat on the couch opposite Warren, and tilted her head back, closing her eyes, while letting the music, the call of seagulls, and the sound of water rushing past lull her to a state of serene contentment.
She opened her eyes and stared at the sky. A few clouds had moved in, but they didn’t obscure the brightness of the moon. This close to the city, not many stars could be seen, but a few managed to twinkle down on them.
Ellen returned to her husband, but rather than sitting beside him, she knelt at his feet, leaning back against the couch, and sighing as he wrapped his fingers in her hair.
“I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Miss Sally,” Warren’s tone turned serious. “You have Derek captivated, and that has me intrigued.”
“Hey, no interrogating my date.” Derek’s deep voice rumbled from the stairs. He clutched a glass in one hand and had another bottle of champagne tucked under his arm. His eyes cut to the bottle Warren had brought up. “I see you had the same idea.”
“Definitely,” Warren said. “Haven’t opened that bottle yet.”
Derek sat beside Sally and gave her leg a light squeeze. “I was concerned when I didn’t see you downstairs, but it didn’t take long to figure out Warren had stolen you.”
“I didn’t steal her,” Warren said with a dismissive snort. “The view is much better up here, and you left her downstairs all alone.”
> “I wasn’t gone that long,” Derek protested.
“Long enough for Ellen to steal a second glass of champagne.”
Ellen gasped.
“Thought I wouldn’t notice?”
“M,” Ellen’s eyes rounded and she bit her lower lip. “I…”
“We’ll discuss it later.”
Sally stared at the couple, knowing she was missing the undertones of what was going on. Derek had mentioned unconventional and more. Whatever more was between Ellen and Warren, it tied them together with a palpable force. Their love for each other couldn’t be more obvious, but there was something else lingering there too, which Sally couldn’t put her finger on.
Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. His muscled thigh pressed against hers, the heat of his body protected her from the encroaching chill of the evening air. It felt as if the yacht was picking up speed as it motored through the channel markers.
She curled against him, snuggling into his warmth, and was beginning to think Derek had no idea how to give a woman her space. Not that she wanted any space between them. His mesmerizing scent had her taking deep breaths, trying to absorb him into her lungs. And the way he stroked her arm, the lazy, but determined touch, maintained their physical contact and had her pulse thrumming in her veins, heating her blood, and making her want a little bit more.
“Dinner will be served in thirty minutes.” Derek kissed Sally’s cheek, then fixed his attention on Warren. “Have you checked out your cabin?”
“As a matter of fact, we have. Ellen appreciated the new carpet.” His finger twined in Ellen’s curls, and he gave a slight tug.
“The game system is set up downstairs. I know how you like to relax with a good shoot-em-up video game before dinner.”
Warren released Ellen’s hair. His eyes narrowed. “It’s a lovely evening, perfect for a moonlit cruise, but of course, I’d be more than happy to play video games downstairs.” Sarcasm ripped through his tone, causing Sally to glance between the two men.
Learning to Breathe: Part One - The Collective - Season 1, Episode 3 Page 6