Way Too Deep (Love Overboard Book 1)

by Andrea K. Stein

  He could endure the bad memories and nightmares, but he knew only time would ease his stomach.

  He had to focus, gather up some of that Iowa Drake determination and gumption. Once again, he was cooking for his life.

  Even though the important passengers hadn’t arrived, he might as well practice and start things off with a bang for the crew—Belgian endive spears with sweet potato, bacon and chives. He’d give it an even more creamy texture with some Manchego cheese. In minutes, Alton lost himself in the cooking, frying bacon, peeling sweet potatoes, chopping chives. Mimi, his twelve-centimeter Santoku, sliced easily through the fibers of the onions. He hadn’t had to do his own chopping in years, and it was…fun.

  He even forgot he was on a boat, and it was like he was back in his crappy Des Moines apartment. He plugged his ears with Sennheiser buds and chose his college playlist from his iPhone. Soon William Topley crooned and Sarah McLachlan haunted him. Add a little Moby and Fatboy Slim, and Alton couldn’t help but smile.

  He was doing what he was born to do.

  He was so lost in the swirl of cooking, he jumped at a touch on his shoulder. Captain Lindsay, the Horrible.

  “Hey, what?” Alton pulled out his ear buds.

  She glowered, which was her normal look. “Why are you going to all this trouble when nobody’s aboard yet except the crew?”

  Alton grinned. “Trouble? No worries, we have to eat. And normally, I love being in a kitchen. Oh, excuse me, the galley. Which in the case of this boat, I’m pretty sure is a Flemish word for dungeon.”

  He expected an onslaught of attitude. Instead, she shrugged. “It is what is.”

  He had a plate of the Belgian endive spears, fully loaded with rich, bacon-y goodness. He pushed the plate toward her. “Try one. And then try not to fall in love with me.”

  “No, thanks.” She brushed past him, whipped open the refrigerator, and grabbed a Coke. Snagged a super-size bag of Lays chips from the cabinet above.

  “You have something against bacon?” he asked.

  “No, but I’m smart enough not to eat anything heavy until I get my sea legs. Less yakking that way. I probably should’ve told you.”

  She cracked open the Coke, busted the bag with a loud pop, and chomped on a Lays. “Mmm—now that is good stuff.” She tipped back her head and closed her eyes, ecstasy written on her face.

  Alton put his hand to his head. He was surrounded by barbarians.

  Lindsay left, but then Tommy pushed his way into the galley. “Goddamn, boy, that smells good.”

  Alton offered the first mate the plate Lindsay had refused. The old guy grabbed a fistful of endive, shoved one into his mouth, and grunted. “Good stuff. Maybe bringin’ all that shit onto the boat was worth it. You keep cooking like that, I just might have to propose.”

  Lindsay stuck her head back around the doorway. “Hey, Chef. You wanna be Tommy’s girl?”

  Alton gave a little shake of his head. “Not my type, I’m afraid. I enjoy a younger vintage.” He paused. “No offense.”

  Tommy laughed and slapped Alton on his back. “Ah, nothing like experience, laddie. You’ll come around. And after all, you’re so cute.” Tommy pinched Alton’s cheek, leaving a smear of endive filling.

  Seconds later, Alton was alone again. He wiped his face with a towel and then tried a stuffed endive. Perfection. Yeah, he might be upchucking it later on, but at that moment, the flavors were worth it.

  He spent the afternoon and the evening organizing the cupboards, the fridge, moving around the stores of food and getting everything just right. He moved Lindsey’s Cokes and chips out of his galley and into a side pantry. She’d fight him, but the food, if you could even call it that, had no business in his domain. She might rule the boat, but he was damn sure going to lord over his kitchen like a jealous god.

  Once his culinary kingdom was under control, he went to his bunk and realized he couldn’t unpack. No room. He did find a place for his iPhone charger. His phone would be the only entertainment he’d have for a long time.

  Alton still wanted to lure Captain Lindsay, the Humorless, into falling for his food. So it was rum-braised sea bass for dinner, grilled up on deck, with the sunset splashing color across the sky. Tommy and Raoul slurped down the leftover stuffed endive and then tucked into several pounds of the sea bass.

  Raoul didn’t say a word, but disappeared right after he ate. Tommy, though, showed enough appreciation for a dozen people. Cooking for a guy like him was fun, even though he’d probably gush over an almond butter and apricot preserves sandwich.

  The water was fairly calm, so no uncontrollable nausea yet, but Alton knew his reprieve would be short. Then it was time to bunk down for the night.

  He found he had two problems, three if you counted the fact that his feet hung off the end of the Star Trek bunk. One was a rave on the beach. The thumping music started at dusk, and Alton knew it would go through the night. He’d brought his custom earplugs, specially sculpted for his ear canal, so that wasn’t so bad, though he could still feel the beat. Probably because the water channeled the sound waves. Water. Boats. The horror.

  The other problem was Lindsay. She burst in to his cabin while he was reading a Poe Ballantine memoir on his phone. He jerked up. “What the hell?”

  She was dressed in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, most likely her jammies. Strong, muscled legs led down in perfection to her ripe calves. Her nipples strained against the shirt. Even through her bra.

  Alton’s mouth went dry.

  “Sorry,” Lindsay said, “I should’ve knocked. I have to change a fuse.”

  He finally pried his eyes off her chest and then saw how full and wet her lips were, the curve of her nose, and the eyes, shining, with thick lashes.

  Lindsay sighed. “You have to move.”

  He got off his bunk and stood near the door.

  Without another word, she pushed past him.

  “Do you have to change the fuse here?” he asked.

  “For the circuit I need to fix, yes.” She climbed on his bed and reached up to a panel he hadn’t noticed. Her butt stuck out, rounded, sculpted, like a ripe white onion grown in the soils of heaven.

  He wanted to bury his face between those perfect globes of flesh.

  He felt himself harden, and then remembered. He was going to do his thinking with the correct appendage this time, namely the head above his neckline. And besides, she had walked in on him. He could’ve been more indisposed.

  “Yeah, knock next time. I need my privacy.”

  She snorted a laugh. “You have porn on your phone like every other guy on the planet?”

  “None of your business,” he shot back. “Just respect my privacy.”

  Lindsay slammed the panel shut and slid off his bunk. They were pressed against each other in the small space. “Privacy is going to be hard to come by on this trip,” she said. “Carrothers is packing us all in here tight. But you’re right. I’ll knock next time.”

  She turned and brushed the swell of his erection with her hip.

  He hissed in pleasure.

  She turned.

  For a second, there was only the sound of the thump of the rave’s dance music.

  “You okay?” she asked.

  Alton nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

  He kept his eyes on hers, hoping she wouldn’t look down.

  “Ma’am,” she smiled. “That’s a little awkward. How about captain?” Her eyes lingered on his. Thank God. She turned and he sighed, but she spun back around. “Oh, and I noticed my Lays and Cokes were moved. The chips? Okay. But the Coke stays in the fridge. Understood?”

  Alton grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled it down, trying to be as subtle as possible. “Yes, captain.”

  “Good.” She left and closed the door.

  He exhaled and sank back onto the bunk. Jesus. She was jalapeño hot, but the amount of bullshit surrounding her cooled him completely. First off, she was a ballbreaker. Secondly, they worked together, and Alton kn
ew from nasty experience, workplace romances generally led to banquet rooms of people vomiting. And besides, he had the feeling she might be more interested in thick-lipped crullers than cream-filled éclairs.

  * * *

  A half an hour later, Lindsay stood at Alton’s door again. She’d changed into her one nice outfit, a sparkly, aqua top and a flaring white skirt. She carried the cowboy boots she’d wear once off the boat.

  She raised her hand to knock, hesitated, and then dropped her fist. She’d been a bitch to the chef, partly because some part of her was attracted to him, but mostly because she was so nervous about the trip. Everything had to go right, no matter what. And she had to be in control. Of the chef, her emotions, the boat, everything.

  Fear and pride. That’s what Tommy always chided her about. But the history of those emotions was deep, and long, and stretched back to her childhood in Charleston.

  Why couldn’t she knock? Pride? Fear?

  Now she was overthinking things.

  She knocked.

  He opened the door, eyes a little blurry. She’d woken him.

  “Hey,” she said. “I’ve not been easy to work with, I know. But this is an important trip, probably the most important of my career.” She stopped herself from saying more. It didn’t matter. She changed gears. “I’m here to offer an olive branch. Since we have to listen to the music anyway, do you want to go check out the rave?”

  Alton tilted his head. “Are you sure you wanna go with a guy? Like me?”

  The question caught Lindsay off guard, but she answered gamely. “For tonight, let’s pretend we’re starting over. Okay?”

  “You got it,” Alton said. “Let me get dressed.”

  Strange, but Lindsay had been nervous he’d say no. Now that he’d said yes, well, that brought up a new batch of problems and questions.

  Namely, why was she going out with a guy she didn’t know, who was difficult to work with, and had poisoned several hundred people on national TV?

  Fear and pride Lindsay could live with. Foolishness? That was something new for her. She stepped out into the corridor and clicked shut the door behind her to wait for Alton.

  Chapter Seven

  Saturday Night, Vieux Fort, St. Lucia

  Alton watched Lindsay drive the boat and was struck by how peaceful she looked. Amazing, focused, beautiful. The glow of the running lights reflected off the still water of the bay and illuminated her face.

  Lindsay caught him staring. “What are you looking at?” She had to yell over the roar of the motor.

  “You.” Alton knew she would want more of an answer, but he had no idea what to say next. No way could he tell her she looked angelic steering the boat toward the shore.

  “Yeah, I get that. Why?”

  Alton took his time, turning his head to take in the huge yacht next to the Bonnie Blue, towering like a three-story building, all of its deck lights ablaze. He finally decided to answer her question and go with the truth. “You look so different out here. I mean, not completely different, but better.”

  She flashed him a grin. “Oh, so I was ugly?”

  “No, more bitchy.”

  “Fuck you very much,” she said, and then laughed. “Tommy says I need to clean up my mouth. I need to be more professional.” She paused before continuing. “I love the ocean at night. Part of the reason I wanted to get out. Tonight is the last chance to relax until this cruise is over.”

  He turned his back to the shore and said, “I could see the love on your face. For the sea, I guess. Looks good on you.” He winced. His words sounded like a corny line, even to him. Trouble was, he meant it.

  “Aw, you’re too sweet,” she said with a laugh.

  They lapsed into silence. Alton took in a deep breath, smelling the sea, the night. He checked out the sky and recognized a constellation he’d heard about but never seen.

  The Southern Cross hung just above the horizon. The Crosby, Stills, and Nash lyrics buzzed in his head, and he could see how sailors used the stars for navigation. The light show above was almost like a glittering roadmap.

  Just then a huge powerboat, at least twice the size of theirs, roared toward them, lights blazing. “Look out,” he said, and pointed behind them.

  “Don’t worry. They aren’t going to hit us.” Lindsay looked over her shoulder and then said, “It’s just the captain of that big super yacht next to us.”

  “Friend of yours?”

  “Sort of. That’s René.” Her voice climbed a few notches on the OMG scale, drawing out the syllables.

  Alton didn’t like the sound. He was getting used to Lindsay, the calm and beautiful. He wasn’t ready for the return of Captain Horrible. And he dreaded the thought of another scary woman captain trying to run them down.

  The other, larger tender was nearly on top of them and picking up speed. The wake behind the huge craft spread throughout the anchorage and set other yachts rocking crazily. Some people even came out on their decks and screamed at them.

  Just then the other boat swept in front of them, nearly clipping the bow of the Bonnie Blue’s tender. When the roiling wake caught up to them, Alton clutched the side rail of the boat to keep from being tossed to the bottom.

  Lindsay’s features went rigid, but she kept her hold on the wheel and acted as if nothing had happened. Alton recognized the warning signs. Her lips disappeared in a grimace and a wrinkle appeared in the middle of her forehead. How had he come to know this woman so well after just one day? Well, she had been mad at him—a lot.

  “Why did she try to kill us?”

  Lindsay smiled an odd, knowing smile. “Like I said. That’s just René.”

  “How do you know her?”

  “When you’re a charter captain, the Caribbean is just one big, floating small town. We all know each other.”

  “Yeah, but …” Alton let the question go when he saw the storm-like warnings form in her eyes. He could only see them narrow in the low light of the cockpit, but he could imagine that cornflower blue intensifying to dark gray. He sure as hell didn’t want her hating him the way she did this René.

  “Just so we never have this conversation again,” she said, leaning over from the wheel and poking a finger into his chest. “René and I have a history, but it’s over. Sex was good while it lasted, but then it all turned to shit. End of story, capiche?”

  “Yeah, I understand how that works.” A wave of disappointment washed over Alton. Yeah, this beautiful, strong woman was probably not going to be interested in him. It was good thing, after all, but the truth still stung.

  When they neared the dock, Lindsay cut the engine. The tender floated in perfectly and bumped gently against the fenders tied to the side of the slip.

  “Now step off, and I’ll throw you a line,” she said.

  “There you go. When you order me around, you don’t look so good.” Alton leapt out, caught the rope she threw, and clumsily tied it around the cleat on the dock.

  “What I look like doesn’t matter. Getting the job done does.” Lindsay climbed onto the dinghy dock and undid his work with a flip of the rope. Seconds later, tight, complicated loops securely snugged the line.

  When she finished and looked up at him, the earlier, playful Lindsay was back. “You need a strong cleat knot to keep the boat from drifting off. I’d hate to see you swimming for it in those Ralph Lauren pants.”

  “DKNY, actually. Linen.”

  “Whatever.” She extended her hand for a lift up.

  Standing above her, Alton had a clear view right down the inside of her shirt. Her breasts were cupped in her bra, and his breathing hitched at the view of her cleavage.

  He averted his eyes and pulled her to standing.

  “All right. Let’s go check this party out,” Lindsay said, and they walked off the dock. They detoured left to a gate where they paid thirty East Caribbean dollars each to get in. A young guy whose face was studded like a hardware store tucked half the bills in a metal lockbox. The others he stuffed int
o his pocket.

  A stage was set up on the beach. On the left and right were bars where people took away beers, umbrella drinks, mojitos, every kind of alcohol possible.

  The crowd danced on the edge of the sand and into the water. Alton realized why it had been so loud on the boat. The speakers on the stage were aimed directly at the boats anchored in the bay.

  “You want something to drink?” Alton asked Lindsay in a shout.

  “Yeah. Grab me a Piton. It’s the local beer.” She was already sashaying her hips, catching the beat, smiling. Her hands rose above her head and she wiggled seductively to the music.

  Even with the cooling waters of the bay, the air on the beach was sweaty-humid with all the people gyrating. Moisture dripped from Lindsay’s throat down to the shadow beneath her sparkly top.

  Alton gulped. His lungs grew heavy, as did other parts of him. The lust, the attraction, he couldn’t deny. But he had to. Lindsay was off limits. Alton threaded through the crowd to the bar. He ran various scenarios in his head, trying to convince himself maybe she was bisexual. He might be able to have something with Lindsay, maybe just a little late-night every other night something, but something. Nothing serious. He shut down the traitorous self-talk. Sex with the prickly captain was a bad idea. Period.

  He finally got the attention of the girl behind the bar. Her head was shaved, tattoos covered her dark skin, and her teeth flashed in a smile. “Hey, whatcha want?”

  “Two Pitons,” he said.

  When she came back with the bottles, he slipped her the cash, along with a nice tip.

  Her face lit up. “Thanks!”

  Alton nodded.

  Two young guys eyed the interaction. They seemed like locals, dressed up, and smelling good with subtle colognes. They spoke to the barmaid in the French patois. She responded, and then both guys took his hands.

  Immediately, Alton knew the deal.

  One smiled at him, hopeful and flirty. “You come to party with us, yes?”

  Alton disentangled his hands and grabbed the two beers. “Something like that.”