“I’ll try to take her out, but she may not want to leave the yacht today. She’s pretty sweet on Brad, you know.” At least, he thought she was.
Don was back on his computer and only half-paying attention. “From what I heard, it didn’t go too well at lunch today. Apparently, she stormed off. If he’s pissed her off somehow, take advantage of it. Joe’s packed you a basket filled with his usual delights; try to get her out of here within fifteen minutes.”
There was a loud knock on the door, and both Stephen and Don jumped.
“In,” yelled Don as he shuffled his papers together into a more discreet pile.
“I can’t get in.” The anger in the voice was palpable. “The door to my own cockpit has been locked.”
Stephen moved over and opened it.
Don looked up as Marshall stormed through. “It’s not your cockpit just now, remember? I’m the captain of this yacht. Besides, we aren’t and won’t be sailing, so what could you possibly want to do up here?”
“I may not be the captain at this moment, but this is still my yacht.” He glanced over at Stephen. “The owner asked me if I would kindly step down for a two-week period, and I have done as she has asked, but when the two of you leave this yacht for good, I will still be here, and I will still be the captain. I must make sure you are not compromising the safety of this ship. This is and has always been my duty. If that means standing in the cockpit all day, doing nothing but monitoring the activities of what I imagine is a very questionable undertaking, then that is what I will do.”
Stephen walked around Marshall and sat down hard in the captain's chair. “What exactly do you think is questionable about this undertaking, Marshall?”
Marshall hesitated. Just when Stephen thought he would turn and leave the cockpit, he spoke again, his lips not twitching. “As far as I understand, Mrs. Lauren Belle, the owner, was coerced into agreeing to the loaning of this yacht. Perhaps there were threats or some emotional manipulation, I cannot say. All I know is she was absolutely devastated at being required to ask me to step down for a period. As you well know, I have captained the Lauren Belle since it was purchased five years ago. I respect that it was difficult for her to make such a request of me, and I promised her I would make sure the boat remained safe in your borrowing hands.”
Stephen looked at Don with a smirk. Don just smiled and shook his head. “Guard away, Marshall,” Don said, “no one is stopping you. Just don’t get in my way. You may hate it that you don’t understand what’s going on around here, but frankly, it’s none of your business. The owner knows what’s going on and that’s all that matters.” Marshall didn’t say a word, but turned and left the cockpit. “I don’t need him causing any problems here. I hope he stays out of the way today.”
“Yeah, well,” said Stephen, “since we both happen to know the owner doesn’t intend to keep him around, we won’t have to worry about that much longer.”
35
Paradise
Maureen decided being mysterious inside her cabin wasn’t going to get her anywhere. In spite of how mortified she was at how the lunch date had collapsed, she had to get back out there. She heard what Joe had said: Brad didn’t like shy and quiet girls. Shy and quiet girls stayed in their cabins, but Brad’s kind of girl did not.
She touched up her makeup and headed out to the deck feeling a surprising boost of confidence. She was up and down like a yoyo these days, but perhaps it was all part of the transformation. After all, a caterpillar didn’t become a butterfly without a lot of hard work. She was wandering around the deck, looking at the tourists meandering on the sidewalks of Marina Village, when there was a tap on her shoulder. He had found her. She prepared herself.
“Brad!” She turned with a smile. It wasn’t Brad.
“Good afternoon, Maureen.” It was Stephen, and he was holding a huge cooler with two bags slung over his right shoulder. He was loaded up like a mule, but his obvious strength made managing that weight look easy. “Ready for an adventure?”
Man, he was adorable. His blond hair was falling into his eyes, and she found herself fighting the urge to reach out and sweep it off his forehead. What did he mean by an adventure? Was Brad taking her out?
“What do you mean?”
“Well, I just had a word with Brad. He has to work all afternoon and probably into the evening. He said he had such a good time with you at lunch today, but he was worried you weren’t getting out enough, so he asked me to take you to the beach.”
Maureen looked at him with skepticism. “He said he had fun at lunch?”
The bags slipped to his elbow and he hoisted them back up to his shoulder. “Sure! He said you had a spirited conversation.”
“He did?” Stephen didn’t look like he was lying, but when had he talked to Brad? She hadn't seen him all morning.
“Look, Maureen, you can continue standing around watching tourists go by—which is scintillating, I assure you—or you can come with me to the beach until Brad has finished his work. I’m not supposed to say anything, but I think he might be planning a special meal tonight. You wouldn’t want to ruin his surprise, would you?”
Maureen felt herself fill with a rush of hope. Maybe the lunch hadn’t been as awful as she had imagined. Maybe she’d happen to convince Brad that she really was mysterious and exciting. Maybe Brad was planning a romantic dinner to sweep her off her feet and he just needed her out of the way, so he could get it set up.
She gave Stephen a big grin, but he didn’t grin back. In fact, he looked even grumpier than usual for a moment. She preferred him smiling. To be honest, when he was smiling, she had a hard time avoiding staring at him.
She was about to tell him so when he said, “Well, come on, then. Go get your suit on and let’s go!”
The sand was hot on her bare feet, but she didn’t care. Stephen had stayed grumpy on the drive over here, so she daydreamed about a possible evening with Brad. After that lunch, she had been convinced he thought she was a psychopath, but what did she know? She was a crappy judge of character—all you had to do was look at her dating history to figure that one out.
She struggled with the sun umbrella that Stephen had passed her as they were getting out of the van and he rushed forward to take it from her. How he managed it with all of the other goodies he was carrying, she couldn’t imagine. He had seemed to cheer up a bit once they were out of the van and headed toward the beach, and she found herself looking forward to hanging out with him.
“Not much further,” he called, and she heard the cooler scraping along the sand as he dragged it. “This is the best access to Cabbage Beach. You’ll see why.”
It didn’t look very promising to Maureen. As they had pulled off the main road and turned in the direction of the ocean, the only thing she had noticed was a huge commercial building behind a large fence on her right that looked like a processing plant, or something. They had pulled up in front of a row of beachfront townhouses that seemed as though they were in the middle of nowhere. Stephen had pointed to his right and said, “That way,” and it had taken Maureen a few minutes to notice the overgrown pathway leading between the townhouses and fence.
After a few more steps, she decided flip-flops were necessary, and she threw them into the sand in front of her to slip her feet inside. Directly in front of her was a set of worn, wooden steps, and she climbed them, thankful for the protection granted by the flip-flops’ cushy, rubber soles.
She reached the top of the steps and gasped in amazement. She was standing on a deck perched high on the sand dunes, and the steps in front of her led down to the most spectacular beach she had ever seen. The sand stretched out endlessly on either side of her in all of its soft, golden glory. It looked to Maureen as though someone had come out this morning with a rake, it was so perfect, with not a speck of seaweed or footprint in sight. If she looked to her left, she could see rows of umbrellas and towels in the distance, but right here, the beach was empty. The ocean was impossibly blue, and the gentle
waves hissed softly onto the sand. If she took a photo, she would never be able to convince her mother that it hadn’t been Photoshopped.
Stephen appeared beside her and dropped the cooler and umbrella onto the deck. “If you look way down to your left, you can spot Atlantis. See it?” She nodded. “This is my favorite part of the beach because no one knows about it. All of the big hotels are quite some distance away. The One&Only Ocean Club is on your right, but still far enough that you get the beach to yourself.”
“It’s amazing.” Maureen felt a bit teary. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a beach so beautiful. It’s no Jersey Shore, let me tell you that.”
They stood silent for a few minutes, staring out at the view.
“I remember the first time I saw it. We were on a business trip down here about six years ago. I grew up around some real beauty in Michigan—the lakes are amazing—but this feels totally different, like something from a dream.” Stephen picked up the cooler and the umbrellas and smiled at her. “Pick a spot.”
“I don’t know,” she said, “there aren’t many to choose from.” Stephen chuckled beside her and then headed off down the steps.
“So, tell me more about yourself,” Stephen said.
They had laid out the thick, cotton beach blanket that Joe had packed and Stephen had positioned the beach umbrella for the perfect amount of shade. Now they were digging into the food, pulling out delicious little packages of all different kinds of treats. There was crisp coleslaw, tiny rolls stuffed with crab salad, a tin of fresh olives, and freshly sliced veggies. Maureen hadn’t eaten a bite at lunch, and dealing with her rollercoaster of emotions since then hadn’t given her much time to realize how hungry she was. She was starving, now.
“What would you like to know?” She picked up a chilled olive and placed it on her tongue. The salty deliciousness filled her mouth, and she looked out at the ocean, thinking, Could this get any better?
“Okay, where are you from? What are your parents like? Brothers? Sisters?”
“I grew up in Kendall Park, New Jersey. Do you know it?” Stephen shook his head. “Well, it’s a small town in New Jersey—not much happens there. I have great parents. My mom is like the nicest person on the planet, if a little old-fashioned and a bit naïve. She was a great mom growing up, and was on the PTA and organized the bake sales. She’s big into church and potluck dinners and stuff—you know the type. My dad works at a pharmaceutical company as a facilities manager. I’m not exactly sure what that entails, but I gather it’s pretty boring and that there’s not much room for advancement. He’s done the same thing for the last thirty years.”
“Siblings?”
“One brother,” Maureen took a paper plate and a few of the miniature crab rolls, which looked amazing. “He’s a lawyer in Texas. We don’t talk much.”
“And your work?”
She smiled over at him. “Am I under investigation? This is a lot of questions for a relaxing day at the beach.”
“I’m interested, that’s all." Stephen said. "Just getting some insight into the kind of girl that would agree to go on vacation with Brad Henderson.”
Was that a dig? She tried to read his expression, but he was busying himself with the food. His paper plate was bending dangerously under the weight of the pile of coleslaw, but he didn’t seem to notice. He looked out of the corner of his eye, caught her staring, and kept shoveling.
Maybe it was a dig, but why? “You’re going to spill it.” She pointed at his bendy plate.
He put it down and started closing up containers. “So, work?”
“Yeah, work. Well, I work for Telco in New Jersey. I am a business analyst there. I think I’d like to get into management, but I’m struggling to get myself noticed. If you haven’t figured it out, yet, I’m a little shy and socially awkward.”
Stephen looked at her in surprise. “I don’t think you are socially awkward,” he said. “A little quiet, maybe, but what’s the problem with that? You are who you are and it should be appreciated. Is there a problem with Brad? Does he want you to be more outgoing?”
Another dig. What was going on with him? She looked up to see if he was kidding, but his face was a blank mask. "What's going on? Do you have a problem with Brad?”
He flushed a little and turned away from her. “No, sorry, I don’t. Tell me more about work.”
Maureen took a bite of the luscious crab salad and stared out at the water, considering what was important to her about work. “I work for guy who’s kind of like my hero. He’s a great boss—tough, but fair, you know?” She looked across at Stephen, who nodded as he picked up his plate of food. “He’s really, really smart and cares a lot about people, as well. I had a little bit of trouble at work last year, and it was him who inspired me to fight back.” Stephen was quiet, and she lost her train of thought as she considered the past year.
She put her sandwich down and felt a wash of regret come over her. How had she progressed from feeling so strong and capable when she was helping Claire, both with the Nick situation and with setting up her boutique, to feeling so inconsequential once again? It occurred to her that it was a combination of two things. Work had been disappointing; the fun and exciting assignment she had imagined coming her way had never materialized. Phil had dragged her down, too—she realized that, now. Even worse, she realized that it hadn’t even been Phil’s fault. She had kind of lost herself in trying to be a good girlfriend and had become someone else for a while. She’d hosted a luau, for God’s sake! She noticed Stephen was staring at her, so she brought herself back to the conversation.
"Anyway, he's a really good friend now."
A cloud crossed Stephen's features. “Sounds like you really care about this boss of yours.”
“I do.”
“You don’t think he’d be a better choice than Brad?”
Okay, now she was getting annoyed. What was with this guy? Didn't he think she was capable of deciding whom she wanted to date? She checked to make sure he wasn't kidding and was greeted with a look of outright challenge in those killer blue eyes. What was he trying to prove? Here we go again, another guy just like Nick or Phil. A guy who had managed to convince her, intended or otherwise, that she wasn’t smart enough to make her own decisions—the kind of guy who would probably make her host a luau. Last night, she thought he was flirting with her, but now he was insulting her. Did he have a personality disorder?
“I don’t really know how to answer that,” she said carefully, watching for a change of expression. She got none.
“Well, it just seems to me that you really like the guy, is all, so I was just wondering why nothing had happened between you.”
“For your information, he is engaged to my best friend! Nothing would have happened before he met her, anyway, because he was engaged then, too.”
Stephen put down his plate and squinted at her—the sun had moved and the umbrella needed to be tilted. Now he looked angry.
“You mean this boss of yours was engaged to someone else, but then he met your best friend and now he’s engaged to her?”
Maureen had had enough. She scraped her plate into the bag that Joe had packed for garbage and then just dumped in her whole plate. “Look, it’s complicated, okay? Like life. I don’t feel like I need to explain it to you right now.”
Stephen snorted. “Sure, life is complicated, so go ahead and cheat on your first fiancée with your second fiancée. Sounds like a winner of a guy to me. No wonder you picked Brad, instead.”
Maureen stood, brushing off the back of her pants with aggressive swipes of her arms. “You don’t know what you are talking about. Just because you got cheated on doesn’t mean the world is made of cheaters. I'm starting to think that maybe you deserved it.”
That was it, she was leaving. She could be back on the boat right now, waiting for Brad to finish work. She didn’t need to be sitting here, listening to a stranger make insulting remarks about her closest friends. Maureen leaned down to grab her beach bag a
nd paused. Stephen was looking down at the half-eaten food, devastated. His skin had turned ash-gray and his hand shook as he reached over to dump his plate into the garbage bag. She realized what she had just said. Shit.
“I’m going to guess you’ve been talking to Ginny,” he said softly. “You’re right: I was out of line with my comments. Come on, I’ll take you back to the boat.”
Maureen felt crappy. Why had she just been so mean? For some reason, he had gotten right under her skin. Where was that guy from last night whose inside seemed to match that gorgeous outside? At dinner, he had been kind, attentive, and fun. Okay, so he had been kind of weird today, but didn’t we all have weird days? She should apologize.
“We could stay a bit longer,” she said, putting her bag back down. “Brad’s probably not ready, yet, anyway.”
"Huh!" She jumped as Stephen stood suddenly and bashed his head on the umbrella. “Well, we wouldn’t want to keep Brad waiting, would we?” he said. “I mean, I’ll bet he’s as much of a hero as your cheating boss.”
“Wait a minute!” Maureen said. I see your anger, and I raise it, she thought to herself, and to think I was about to be nice! “You don’t get to talk like that about my friends, boat guy. As it happens, I wouldn’t be able to live without them.”
“Boat guy?” Stephen left an angry pause between each word. He took a deep breath before turning and starting to pack up their cozy spot. He opened the hamper and threw in the food, piled the blanket right on top of the open containers, raining sand everywhere, and he even threw in her flip-flops.
Unstoppable: A Sweet Romance (Jersey Girls Book 2) Page 13