"Nandita?" Maureen was confused for a second, hearing that name so out of context with her current circumstance. "She's fine, I guess."
"Great to hear. You know I love your friends." He gave a cheery wave and headed off toward the steps to the dock.
Maureen felt herself deflate, imagining her Mo persona shooting her a frustrated, dirty look as she stormed away, and she turned to Stephen in irritation. “It was all going well until you arrived.” She slammed down her champagne flute and pushed past him.
On second thought, she needed some of that champagne in her room, and as she pivoted to grab the bottle, she heard Stephen mutter under his breath, “Oh yeah, so well that you were making shit up.”
He must have heard her gasp, because he quickly turned to face her. She looked at his tight, sullen face and felt the stress and anxiety of the last twenty-four hours take a firm hold of her. Screw the champagne! She high-tailed it to the safety of her room.
24
Who’s That Girl?
Stephen watched Maureen fly off the back deck and felt distinctly shitty. He had purposefully said that last comment loudly enough for her to hear, and he wasn't sure why he had felt such a need to piss her off. Truthfully, he had expected her to get pissed off and tell him to mind his own business, or worse, but instead, she had looked heartbroken. She was in the wrong, though, right? All that crap about the Mediterranean Sea when she had just told him she'd barely left New Jersey? The only reason he had to feel guilty was the obvious one. She was a guest on the boat—a guest of a guy who was paying ridiculous money to have the Lauren Belle staff treat him and his guests like royalty. He was blowing it.
“Yep, you sure should feel bad.” Stephen was surprised to find Joe standing there with his arms folded in front of his barrel chest.
“How long have you been standing here?”
“Came out to pick up the empty plates and caught the exit of his highness. Didn’t like what I heard from you, though. Seems like that girl has gotten under your skin.”
"What's that supposed to mean?" Stephen followed Joe to the table, wishing he had stayed in his cabin.
"Don't ask me," Joe said. "All I know is that, since you arrived, you haven't said much of anything to anyone on this boat, except for yelling at Ginny. It seemed to me like you wanted to keep to yourself. Insulting the guests ain't gonna help that happen."
Joe was right, as usual: this girl had gotten under his skin. In fact, standing there, watching the little show she was performing for Brad had made him downright angry. “I don’t know, Joe. There’s something about her. Sitting there, talking to him, she was an entirely different girl than the one I picked up today or the one I just saw in her cabin. It was like she was acting, or something. It pissed me off.”
Joe moved to the table and started clearing up the empty bruschetta plates. “Don’t know what it has to do with you,” he said as the champagne flutes clinked together between his large fingers. “That lady is a guest on this yacht and your job is to give her the kind of experience you would expect on a yacht as high-caliber as the Lauren Belle. That little girl looks to me as though she don’t believe she belongs anywhere. She at least needs to know that, for the next two weeks, she belongs here." He turned to Stephen. "Whatever the situation is between her and his highness is whatever the situation is. That’s her business, his business, and perhaps the captain’s business, but you’re not the captain and that ain’t your job.”
Joe walked past Stephen to the kitchen, singing to himself, and Stephen smiled. He could always count on him to tell it like it was. He looked around for Ginny to ask her to fluff and wipe down the deck cushions, but he couldn’t see her anywhere. When he wandered to the edge of the boat overlooking the village, he saw Ginny, blonde hair flying, catching up to Brad as he walked toward the far entrance of Marina Village. She handed him something—he couldn’t see what, but he did catch Brad’s smile. Ginny turned and jogged back toward the yacht.
Stephen’s headache reared up again in a rush. There was too much going on around here. Why wasn’t he back at home in his Silicon Valley apartment writing code and drinking a beer? He walked toward the bar to pour himself a drink and wait for the return of his pain in the ass step-niece, Ginny. He needed to have a word with her, and then he had an apology to make.
25
The Note
It had been three days since the dinner party at Tod and Sally’s apartment, and Nandita had been keeping a secret ever since. Her instinct, which she knew she should trust, was to forget the secret and focus on school and studying. She had been disappointing Satish and she hated it. What he didn’t understand was that her schoolwork was just fine. She was smart—she had always been smart—and keeping up with her work was no problem for her, even with the myriad distractions that school presented daily. Therein lay the problem: the distractions were upsetting him.
Based on what Satish had told her, his experience at college had been boring, boring, boring. He’d studied and… and nothing. He’d had no social life, went to no parties, and enjoyed no new experiences. He seemed convinced that, because that had been his experience, it was the right experience. Sure, Nandita had come to the United States to study and become educated, but she had also wanted to taste the freedoms that came with being a young person in America. She wanted to stay up all night eating potato chips, drinking coffee, and gossiping with girlfriends. She wanted to dance until the lights came on in a club and drive home with the sun coming up. She wanted to stay in bed all day on a rainy Saturday, binging on Netflix.
She understood Satish’s perspective, she truly did. He had changed his life for her, both by breaking off his relationship with their father, and by bringing her into his home while he was trying to establish a new life with Claire. He expected her to take full advantage of the opportunity he had provided, but their ideas of what that meant differed greatly.
Nandita was desperate to be in the dorms on campus—that was where the real experiences were. Maybe Satish was worried about boys, but the only boy she had thought about since her arrival in the United States was Sachin, the boy she had left behind. That was, until three days ago.
“You’ve gone all daydreamy again,” Misty crashed back into Nandita’s room after excusing herself to use the bathroom. “Thinking about your boy back in India?” She plopped onto the bed and papers crunched underneath her.
“Misty, careful! I need those for studying.”
“Study, schmudy! All I have to say is, if your boy in India looks anything like your dreamy big brother, you are one lucky girl!”
Misty had met Satish last week when she had stayed for dinner. Claire had been working that night, so it was just the three of them, and Misty had amused Nandita with her blatant flirting and outrageous statements. Satish had not liked her, of course. She was everything he reviled about American youth. She loved Misty, though—she was a glimpse into a person Nandita could never be. She loved her confidence, her sassiness, and was in awe of her bravery. She leapt first and looked later. Satish told her he thought Misty was a bad influence, as if Nandita wasn’t intelligent enough to figure out which behaviors to emulate and which to just enjoy watching.
“Hello!” Misty waved her hand in front of Nandita’s face, “Earth to Nan. Where are you?”
“Sorry. You’re right: I was thinking.” Her secret was burning a hole in her pocket, and she made a decision. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“Secret? Oh, yummy, I love secrets. Yes, please!”
“Remember that guy I told you about meeting at that dinner last week? Brad?”
Misty threw herself back on the bed and Nandita scrambled to pull her crumpled papers from underneath her—she honestly did need those for studying.
“Ahh, Brad. Yes, of course, I remember. How could I forget our mega Googling session? I could look at pictures of that dreamboat for hours.” She sat up and gave Nandita a serious look. “He’s nearly as good-looking as your brother, you know.”
; “Yeah, well…” she pulled the neatly folded piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to Misty, who carefully unfolded it, read it, and looked up with her mouth hanging open.
“You’ve had this for how many days, and you haven’t—”
“Three days,” Nandita said. “I’ve had it for three days.”
“You have had this note for three days and you’ve done nothing? Or have you done something and didn’t tell me, you jerk? Have you done something?”
“I have done nothing, and I can’t do anything for so many reasons, Misty.”
“Screw the reasons, Nan! You can’t just ignore this. Where did you get it?”
“He slipped it to me when he shook my hand to say goodbye. I almost died when I read it. I was terrified I would drop it and Satish would find it.”
“Satish’s head would explode if he found out you were carrying this around, Nan.” Misty tossed the paper onto the middle of the bed and threw herself onto her elbows, propping up her head in her hands to stare at it longingly. It was a note. In confident, loopy cursive that jumped off the page, it read,
Dearest Nandita,
You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Please call me, so we can arrange for me to whisk you away to a magical dinner together. 212-555-5735
- Brad x
“So, when do we call? Misty looked up at her, her feet swinging in the air.
“We don’t,” said Nandita, snatching up the note, “and you don’t mention it to anyone, okay, Misty? Satish’s head would explode and Claire would give me that, ‘Oh, I am SO worried about you’ look that makes me feel rotten.” She folded it up and put it into her back pocket.
She felt better now that she had shown it to someone. She had no plans of calling him, of course—he was at least ten years older than her and completely out of her league, sophisticated, well-traveled, and so handsome. He was very, very handsome. She remembered how his fingers had curled around hers as she shook his hand goodbye and the jolt of surprise she had felt when she realized he’d passed her something. He had stared directly into her eyes, gazing so deeply that she’d felt like he knew every single detail about her in an instant. All of her secrets and hidden fears had been laid out before him. She had even felt a little faint under his gaze.
Misty crawled to the edge of the bed and snapped her fingers in front of her. “Hello, there you are again, Sleeping Beauty! Stay with me, here. Wherever you are going in your brain to hang out with Brad must be a sweet and sexy location, because you never want to come back.” She stood, moved to Nandita’s bureau, and started sorted through her basket of hair clips, clipping them willy-nilly all over her shockingly pink head. “Of course you should call him, and you should do it now. You think there is any way in Hell that I’m letting you do this without me here?” She grabbed Nandita’s cell from the top of the bureau and tossed it to her. Nandita gave a little squeal of fright, but managed to catch it before it landed on the hardwood floor. “Let’s go. I know you have that number memorized!”
Nandita smiled and turned her phone over in her hands. “What do you think he wants?”
“What does he want? He wants a shy, raven-haired beauty who he can mold into the perfect trophy wife. He wants to spoil that wife with diamonds, luxury hotels, and five houses, and he wants to give her lots and lots of his strapping sons.” Misty had moved to the basket of Claire’s scarves, now, and was adding them one by one to various locations on her body. It wasn’t exactly fashion forward, but it was certainly original. “I’m telling you, if you don’t call him, I will. He has a boat in the Bahamas, for Christ’s sake!”
“I don’t think it’s his boat,” Nandita said, shaking her head. “I think he borrowed it, or something.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, Nan, can you hear yourself? He either has a yacht, or he knows someone who will lend him a yacht. Big diff! The point is that he wants to take you out to dinner, and you are acting like a wilting flower. Why did you come to America, girl? You came to have adventures, right? You came here for this! This is an adventure. Call him now!”
Misty was right: she had come to the United States for adventures.
An education, Satish announced from the depths of her subconscious. You came here to get an education.
She pushed Satish out of her head and picked up the phone, dialed the memorized number, looked up at Misty, who gave her a wink, and hit “call.” The phone started to ring.
26
Apology Accepted
Maureen was so embarrassed. It was so unlike her to be dishonest, but Stephen was right. When she had accidentally fibbed—and she had convinced herself it was an accident—Brad had suddenly seemed so interested. In a flash of Mo inspiration, she had reasoned with herself that it made sense for him to fall in love with her first. They could hash out all of the misunderstandings before the wedding. Before the wedding... pfft! What an idiot she was. The truth was that she wasn't used to a guy like Brad showing any interest in her whatsoever. She had gotten carried away. Still, it was rude of Stephen to point it out.
There was a tentative knock on her cabin door from Stephen. Even though he was the last person she wanted to be face to face with, he was remarkably easy on the eyes. His stance was defensive, and his brilliant, blue eyes flashed under that messy mop of blond hair. Was he here to fight with her? Her eyes moved to the biceps flexing under his short, white sleeves, and an image of those rock-hard muscles holding her down on the bed behind her flashed into her head. Where did that come from? She wasn’t here to have daydreams about a grumpy first mate—she was here to become magnificent and win the man of her dreams! She blushed. Damn it! Why was she always blushing?
“I came to apologize,” he said, jutting his chin forward and avoiding her eyes.
“You don’t look like you’re apologizing,” she mumbled.
He looked at her in surprise and then let out an abashed laugh. Maureen watched the tension slip effortlessly from his body. She could tell he wasn’t a naturally angry person, and she wondered why he was so on edge.
“You’re right: I don’t, do I? Can I do it again?” Maureen nodded and shut the door on his face, noting the flash of shock in those baby-blue eyes. She smiled to herself and waited. He knocked and she opened the door.
“Hello, Ms. Stockton. I hope you’ll forgive the intrusion, but I had to come and apologize. My behavior back there was unforgivable... but can you forgive me?”
“Well, Mr…. what’s your last name?”
“Caldwell.”
“Well, Mr. Caldwell, I guess, since you so gallantly put my feelings ahead of your pride, I suppose I can forgive you.” Stephen smiled at her again. Man, what a different guy he was when he smiled. It was impossible not to smile back.
“Thank you, Ms. Stockton. I appreciate your kindness.” He bowed with a flourish, and Maureen once again noted those juicy biceps. “I must admit that I am especially sensitive to untruths right now, but I don’t know you or Brad at all, and I had no right to comment. You guys seem very… close.”
How could she respond to that? She didn’t want to tell anymore untruths, as he had put it, but she certainly didn’t want to let anyone know how little she truly knew about Brad. Could it be that she also didn't want to admit it to herself? She had come here to impress her angel, but what did she know about him, other than the fact that Sally had deemed him a great catch? She certainly couldn't tell this Stephen guy how little she knew—she could not get sidetracked by other people's opinions just now. There was only one path to Magnificent Mo, and if she lost her nerve, it would be cats and loneliness for her. She decided avoidance was the best solution.
“He’s very busy. I mean, he has a very successful company right now, and as an art collector, there's a lot of socializing to do. We were just at dinner with one of his top artists last week. He really is very busy.”
“I’m sure he his.” Stephen shuffled his feet uncomfortably. She felt like he was about to leave, but then he coughed and said, “Wo
uld you like to get out and get some dinner? I know a fun, local place—my treat. I don’t think Brad will be back tonight, and I wouldn’t want you to eat alone in your room on the first night on the boat.”
What if Brad did come back? Would he be mad that she had gone off on her own after he had been so kind to invite her here? Again, Maureen, don't get distracted!
“Oh… no, thanks. I mean, I should probably get myself familiar with the boat, anyway.”
Stephen cocked an eyebrow at her. “Why?”
Maureen had no idea. Why would she need to familiarize herself with the boat? She had no clue. “Oh, you know, so that I’m ready for when… when we sail?”
Stephen grinned at her. “You plan on piloting the boat yourself?”
“Well, of course, not, I…” She blushed again quite furiously.
Stephen laid a hand on her arm and Maureen felt a jolt of warmth shoot to her toes. “I'm just kidding with you, Maureen. Anyway, your boyfriend didn’t tell you? We won't be sailing anywhere—we aren't leaving the harbor for the next two weeks. Your vacation stays right here.”
Maureen tried not to be too obvious as she breathed a sigh of relief. She'd felt so stressed about this whole sailing thing. Being out of sight of land, way out in the middle of the deep, bottomless ocean scared her to death. Right now, she didn’t even feel like she was on a boat—just some extra fancy hotel.
“Really? That’s fabulous news!”
“It's fabulous news? You're on one of the nicest yachts ever to sail Bahamian waters and you don't want to sail? Are you afraid?”
“No, I like it, it’s just…” Don’t lie, Maureen, don’t lie. She lost her temper with herself. Why was she such a mouse? “I hate it!” She yelled, stamping her foot in frustration.
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 9