The Secret Cove in Croatia

by Julie Caplin

  ‘What … er … happened?’ Despite her best intentions, her words emerged a little unsteady and wobbly. Stop thinking about his thighs. Had she no shame? He was a sick man at her mercy and she should know better than to ogle the poor guy.

  He lifted his head and looked over his shoulder at her. Half of his body was wedged under the toilet bowl and, in the tight space, it was obvious that trying to get any purchase to lift himself up was almost impossible.

  ‘I slipped, went down, grabbed the shower head and the whole thing came down with me and …’ he dropped his head to the floor ‘… I haven’t got the energy to get back up.’

  ‘Are you hurt?’

  ‘No. Just my masculine pride which, to be honest, is a shadow of its former self after today.’

  ‘How about I promise not to mention this again?’ suggested Maddie, forcing herself to be matter-of-fact and businesslike as she switched off the shower and bent to help him.

  ‘I’m not sure at this moment I care.’

  ‘You need to wriggle back a bit and then I can help you up to your knees. Then grab the basin and between us we can get you up.’

  There was only so much wriggling and tugging a towel could take and still protect one’s modesty. When she pulled Nick up to his knees, the towel gave up the ghost. As he rose to his feet, hanging onto the basin with one hand, Maddie, still on her knees, got an eye-level view of flat stomach, dark blond hairs arrowing down and a brief glimpse of dark blond curls and other things that she wished she really hadn’t seen. Although that didn’t stop the sudden fascination about what would happen if she stroked her hands up those lovely thighs or caressed the masculine dip of muscle running across his hips.

  She stood up, grabbing the towel, and clumsily shoved it at his crotch, which made things worse as she had to hold it there, waiting for him to take it from her. If only she could have been blasé and pretended it was no big deal. Now they were both standing here looking at each other, her cheeks flaming and his only a shade lighter.

  ‘Awkward,’ she said, focusing on not looking down. In the mirror she could see his bottom, still delicious. Nick Hadley had a very nice body. Had she noted that already a few times?

  He swallowed. ‘Sorry.’ He clung to the sink with one hand, holding the towel with his other. The blush on his face deepened.

  ‘Here, let me.’ Now she felt awful, knowing that on a normal day Nick probably would have laughed this off, made a huge joke out of it. His blushing apology emphasised how lost and defenceless he was feeling. Keeping her eyes on his jawline, she took the towel and wrapped it around his waist, her movements brisk as her hands grazed his cool, damp skin. Heavy silence buzzed between them and the intimate touch, taking care of him, made her heart flip. She focused on the golden sand grains of stubble breaking out on his chin, heard him inhale sharply as her fingers slid across his firm stomach to tuck the ends in and felt her insides tingle at the soft bristles of hair below his navel.

  ‘There.’ She pulled her hands away and shoved them down by her sides, standing ramrod-straight like an obedient toy soldier. ‘All done. Think you can make it back to bed? I’ll … er … tidy up in here.’

  His boxer shorts were on the floor, the shower head dangling downwards, the hose poised like a silver snake to strike and a large slick of water across the floor.

  ‘Mmm,’ he said, moving his grip from the basin to the door, taking a few careful steps on the wet floor. Like an old man, he shuffled back to the bed, drips of water from his wet hair running down his back.

  ‘Wait.’ He turned as he was lowering himself onto the bed. She hurried over with a fresh towel. ‘You’re still soaking. If you get the sheets damp, you won’t feel the benefit.’ Without waiting, she gently blotted up the lines of water inching their way down his back, warmth bursting in her chest at the sight of the towel against his skin, his muscles moving as he shifted to accommodate her touch. She worked her way from his tapered waist up to his broad shoulders, soaking up the drops in her path, towards his neck, where smooth, dead straight spikes of blond hair fringed the nape like a comb. He smelled of the supplied expensive lemon verbena shampoo as she buried his head in the towel and rubbed his wet hair, trying to make it brusque and impersonal while her heart hammered away in her chest so hard she could feel her ribcage vibrating. Like a child he let her, after making a half-hearted muffled protest.

  When she finished it was still damp and she gave it a critical scowl. ‘I’m not having you go down with pneumonia or something from sleeping in damp sheets. Let me dry it for you.’

  Obedient as ever, he sat there, his shoulders drooping with weary patience as she made him wait while she plugged in the hairdryer in the bedside lamp plug.

  ‘This won’t take a minute and then I’ll leave you in peace.’

  ‘Good,’ he muttered with a sigh and a look of longing at the bed.

  As soon as she started fluffing his hair through her fingers, rough drying it under the blast of the hairdryer, she regretted it. What was she doing? Where had this determined impulse to look after him come from? Her fingertips massaged his scalp, tingles shooting up her arm as his hair touched her sensitive inner wrist, but she couldn’t seem to stop herself, even though it was just asking for trouble and extending an open invitation to her hormones, which seemed to have woken up from a very long hibernation and were stretching and uncurling like hedgehogs scenting spring.

  ‘Mmm, that’s nice.’ Nick’s hoarse voice was full of sleep and sex … no, not sex. Definitely not sex. Those damn hormones had far too much spring fever in their step. Just sleep. Tiredness. Probably sore from all that throwing up.

  ‘I think you’re done now.’ She almost yanked the plug out of the wall. ‘Do you want a clean T-shirt or anything?’

  Nick’s eyes clouded as if he were confused by her sudden brusqueness. ‘Yes. The second drawer down. And would you mind … boxers in the top.’

  Yes, because she really wanted to go rifling through his underwear drawer. A soft blue T-shirt lay neatly folded in the drawer. ‘This do?’ He nodded and she dipped her hand into the top drawer without looking and pulled out a pair of navy jersey boxers.

  ‘Thanks, Maddie.’ He pulled the T-shirt over his head and she watched as the muscles in his back under his shoulder blades flexed and bulged.

  ‘Can I get you anything else?’ she asked, already at the door. It was too hot in here. She needed to get out fast and give herself a severe talking-to.

  ‘No … erm … I’m fine.’ Then she felt guilty at abandoning him; his eyes looked a little bleak and there was a defeated air about him. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Some of us are still working.’

  He winced. ‘And I’ve just made extra work for you.’ Now she felt a touch mean.

  ‘You’re no problem.’ She thought of the stack of towels that Tara had got through. ‘But now we’re in port I need to do boring things like get some laundry done and stock up on groceries and other bits and bobs.’ And get away from him for a while before she had any more unseemly thoughts.

  Laundry, think laundry. Washing. Towels. Not wrapping a towel around Nick’s tanned flat stomach.

  ‘I need to go. Do chores.’ She wrenched open the door with a touch of desperation.

  ‘Will you be long?’ He let out a self-deprecating huff. ‘Sorry, I sound like a needy four-year-old. Go. I’m a big boy.’ In that quick denial she saw that he felt his own vulnerability and was embarrassed by it.

  She softened her smile. Who’d have thought that big, strong Nick could be this cute? ‘I’ll be as quick as I can. Laundry drop-off, pop to a supermarket and come back. Is there anything you want?’

  He gave her a shy hopeful look. ‘I’ve got a craving for Lucozade. My mum always used to give it to us when we were kids and sick.’

  Safer territory; this she could deal with. ‘Mine too. She swore by it. I’ve no idea if they sell it here, but I’ll have a look for you.’

  ‘Thanks, Maddie. I … I do rea
lly appreciate you doing all this for me. It’s not exactly part of your job description, is it?’

  ‘No problem.’ Her stomach grumbled with a loud whine that she couldn’t hide from and which had him looking contrite.

  ‘And you haven’t eaten, have you? Or slept?’

  ‘It’s been a bit of a day.’ She raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and then it had been a quick slice of toast because everything had been so chaotic.

  Nick smiled back at her, a shy smile which lit her up inside. ‘And I haven’t helped. Go eat something. Can’t have both of us fainting all over the place from lack of food.’

  ‘Do you think you might want to try eating anything?’

  ‘Not sure,’ and as he said it he yawned, eyes blinking. Despite the clean hair and a little more colour in his face, his eyes were smudged purple with fatigue.

  ‘Why don’t you rest for a while and then maybe, if you’re feeling better later, come and watch a Netflix movie on the screen in the salon?’

  He brightened, sitting straighter for a second as if he’d been offered a huge treat. ‘That would be great.’

  She gave him a sudden grin. ‘You might not say that when you find out what I’ve chosen to watch.’

  ‘I’ll survive.’ There was a flash of his usual humour as his mouth curved in a half-smile. ‘You don’t strike me as the sappy, weepy film type.’

  ‘You’ll have to find out.’ With that cheery quip she left the room, grateful that she didn’t have to watch him shimmying into his boxers under that towel.

  Slinging the heavier of the two laundry bags over her shoulder, Maddie headed confidently towards the gangplank and out into the sun, grateful once again for the handy manual with its map and clear directions.

  Her feet touched the solid stone promenade and immediately she felt a little unsteady on her feet. Funny how quickly she’d got used to the incessant motion of the boat. They were moored opposite a small hotel with a wrought iron edged terrace on the first floor, with greenery climbing around the railings. A couple at a table watched with avid interest, looking over the boat. She laughed quietly to herself; it probably looked terribly glamorous until she struggled off with her load, putting things into perspective very quickly. The Avanturista was one of the biggest boats in the little harbour.

  The bags were heavy so she didn’t dawdle, but her brief impression of Stari Grad was that it was a quiet and rather beautiful old town, with grand stately buildings that were impressive for such a small place. Ivan had told her it was one of the oldest towns in Europe. There was a quiet, calm sense that not much had changed here for a long time. If Hvar was the equivalent of St Tropez then this was the quiet, rustic little sister but still charming. As she walked along the quiet promenade, there were lots of interesting side streets, silent and empty, bordered on each side by buildings standing like sentries guarding hundreds of years of secrets.

  With everyone away from the boat this week she could afford to explore the town and check out some of the restaurants and little bars. It was definitely an unexpected holiday bonus.

  Finding the laundry took no time and, even better, the washing would all be ready for collection the next morning. Having skirted a small market with a handful of stalls packed with fresh fruit and vegetables, she doubled back to stock up on a few bits of salad before heading to the one supermarket.

  The bread looked nice. White. Toast for Nick. She hunted high and low for Lucozade, to no avail.

  She phoned Ivan. He’d abandoned her so quickly, he could at least help.

  ‘I don’t know what this is,’ he said, ‘but there is a vitamin drink, Cedevita. We give it to the children. You can buy orange, lemon or grape. It’s a powder you add water to. How is he?’

  ‘Better than he was.’

  ‘Call me if you need a doctor.’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Overboard?’ Nick raised an eyebrow.

  ‘I thought it was rather apt. Given we’re on a boat. It’s a remake and I loved the original. Goldie Hawn and Kurt Russell. Did you ever see it?’

  ‘Yes, it’s one of my mum’s favourites. She loves Goldie. Or maybe it was Jeff?’ he mused.

  She looked down at the remote controls in her lap. She was quite pleased she’d managed to find the Netflix app.

  ‘It is rather dependent on whether I can get the television working.’

  There were two screens in the salon area, one large central screen by the seating area and another smaller one to the right of the cabin served by a smaller loveseat. So far she’d only been able to get the smaller screen to work.

  ‘Don’t ask me, I leave all that to my brother Toby. He’s the family electronics whizz. We had to wait months for him to come home to get rid of the subtitles on the TV after Mum pressed something on the remote control.’

  Maddie laughed. ‘Sounds like something my mum would do too. The TV at home is bigger than a small car, has a gazillion functions and no one seems to know how to work it.’

  She looked over at Nick, stretched out on the opposite leather sofa; he looked a little better after drinking half a glass of the Cedevita, which tasted pretty good. Thank goodness for Ivan. At least she felt she’d done something to aid his recovery.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ She looked over at her empty plate, having eaten a chicken salad, feeling a little guilty for eating in front of him.

  ‘I’m not that brave yet. This is going down well.’ He raised his drink in toast. ‘The Croatian cure.’

  ‘Do you want anything else?’

  ‘Maddie, can we make an agreement?’ He looked over at her, his blue eyes serious and intent, which made her heart flutter just a little. ‘If I wasn’t here, you would be doing whatever you wanted. Why don’t you pretend that I’m not a guest and just another person on board?’

  ‘OK,’ she said brightly, avoiding looking at his face. Another person. She could do that. All she had to do was forget the images of his naked body in the bathroom or the soft, sleepy smile he’d given her this morning when she’d woken up next to him.

  ‘I don’t want you waiting on me hand and foot. You’ve done enough already.’

  She shrugged. ‘OK,’ she said, not entirely convinced that was the right thing to do.

  With an impatient sigh, he said, ‘Do you see any sign of Ivan worrying about abandoning a guest?’

  She laughed. ‘I suspect there’s someone in the town who holds a much greater attraction, judging by the speed with which he shot off.’

  ‘Exactly, so he’s not exactly feeling guilty or obliged to stay.’

  ‘True, but it just feels … I’m here to work.’

  ‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ His blue eyes twinkled and, despite his pallor, her stupid stomach did that loop the loop thing. What would Nina say if Maddie told her she’d got a massive crush on her brother? That’s what this was. A stupid crush. Yes, he was good-looking and he made her laugh and they had a ton of stuff in common and he made her hormones sit up and beg, BUT he was with Tara. And, let’s face it, who was going to trade down from someone like her to someone like Maddie? Three times the size of a diminutive size six model, from a council estate in Birmingham, with no proper job.

  Almost as if he’d read her mind he said, ‘But this is just temporary, isn’t it?’

  Maddie wondered how much Nina had told him. ‘Yes, I was free after I’d finished my degree and Douglas was desperate; otherwise I don’t think I’d have got this job with no experience.’

  ‘You seem to be pretty good at it.’

  ‘Ha! You think. From your wide yachting experience?’

  To her surprise, he flinched and looked away. ‘Shall we watch this film then?’

  His mouth had tightened and it seemed as if he was refusing to look her way.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, genuinely puzzled by the sudden shut-down.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said. ‘Are we going to watch the film or not?’

  She fro
wned, trying to analyse her words. ‘I was joking, you know.’

  He didn’t say anything but pointedly looked at the big blank screen, waiting for it to come on. She let out an impatient huff and flicked the remote at the television, muttering, ‘Suit yourself,’ under her breath.

  He sighed and looked up. ‘Sorry. I’m being an arse. And you don’t deserve it. You sounded a bit like Simon for a second. He never misses an opportunity to remind me I didn’t go to the right school, I don’t work in London.’

  ‘If you think I’m like Simon, you are being an arse,’ retorted Maddie.

  With a reluctant laugh he turned to face her. ‘Sorry, you’re nothing like Simon. I really don’t like him.’ The cross expression in his eyes softened as they met hers and held her gaze for a few seconds.

  The unspoken subtext – that he did like her – hovered between them before Nick turned away. ‘Shall we watch the film?’

  ‘Good idea,’ said Maddie, picking up the remote controls.

  Unfortunately, after a few minutes pressing buttons with the odd suggestion from Nick, she finally admitted defeat. ‘We could be here all night. I’m afraid it’s the small screen or nothing.’

  Nick rose, lifting his shoulders, and crossed to sit next to her without saying anything.

  It wasn’t called a loveseat for nothing, although Maddie did her best to squidge up into the corner to give him more room, but every hormone in her system was on high alert, horribly aware of the warm, living, breathing body next to her.

  Ten minutes into the film, the irony of the story – the conflict between a super-rich, self-entitled hard-partying, super-dickish bachelor yacht owner who was thoughtless and boorish in his treatment of the super-poor, hard-working disadvantaged mother-of-three working two jobs while trying to study for her nursing degree – was not lost on Maddie.

  She sneaked yet another sidelong look at Nick, who was steadfastly watching the screen with an iron cast to his jaw. Once again her gaze was drawn to the sandy golden bristles breaking out through his skin. Stop it, Maddie, she told herself. She wriggled in her seat, antsy and uncomfortable. Could he feel her looking at him? With her hand hidden under her thigh, she crossed her fingers and prayed that he couldn’t sense how she was feeling.