Flick took all of two minutes to make her bed and tidy her tiny sitting room. That was a benefit of living in a mini-suite. No photos or knick-knacks or other people’s detritus cluttering every surface like at home.
Home. She flopped into the armchair and looked at the sparse furnishings, white walls, limited edition decorator picture. It was clean and neat and felt nothing like home used to. It lacked warmth. It lacked identity.
It lacked the illusion of loving parents.
‘Get over yourself and get a move on.’ She rarely talked to herself, but after another night in Xander’s bed, in his arms, her sterile room reminded her how tenuous relationships were.
She turned on the shower, waiting for the water to run hot before stepping under it and washing her hair, a quick wash. She hated running late, missing time with Xander.
The lyrics of an old Rod Stewart song—the tune she’d assigned to Xander—blared from her phone where it lay on the bathroom vanity.
She flung a towel around her body and grabbed her phone. ‘Hi, nearly ready. I’ll be there in—’ The week before Christmas was as busy in Rainbow Cove as in Pecorino and she was running late.
‘New plan, if it’s okay with you. Meet me down by the boatshed. We’re going for a short sail on the catamaran. I’ve packed a picnic.’
‘You’ve packed …’ She couldn’t imagine Xander doing the actual packing of food, but the idea of a picnic was tempting. Most evenings since Jenny’s departure, they’d met for dinner in his apartment. And each morning, she’d tiptoed out early, trying not to wake Xander. She rarely succeeded, and it had become a game. But a frisson of excitement ran down her spine at the idea of an evening on a catamaran.
‘Okay, see you there in ten minutes.’ Tossing the towel over the railing, she grabbed the hairdryer and gave her hair a quick blast. Then she dressed quickly, slipped her key card into her shoulder bag alongside her toothbrush and a change of underwear and pulled the door closed.
Hawaiian-style tiki torches lit the way to the beach, but she turned off onto a less well-lit path and followed it to the boatshed. Early evening light faded beneath the cover of palm trees lining the path and she passed no one. Most activities had pulled back to the confines of the resort with the setting of the sun.
Xander was waiting at the land end of the jetty, one hand in his pocket, his heavy bandage long gone, replaced by a waterproof plaster, his white shirt untucked and pale against the darkening sky. ‘There you are. Hi.’ He held her shoulders and dropped a light kiss on her lips. She stepped back quickly and looked around.
‘It’s safe, Flick. There’s nobody down here at this time of night.’
She swallowed the quick skip of embarrassment and the lick of regret that took the edge off her pleasure at seeing Xander outdoors. ‘Sorry. I know you think I’m over the top wanting to stay off everyone’s radar.’
‘I respect your wish for privacy. It’s not a problem. In fact, it inspired tonight’s idea.’ He picked up the handle of a large rolling esky and set his hand on her waist as they walked to a catamaran moored at the end of the jetty. ‘Moonglow is ready for departure.’
Moonglow’s furled sails appeared to be hot pink, and a warm light emanated from the cabin.
‘I haven’t seen Moonglow before, or any others like her. I thought all the resort watercraft were much smaller?’
‘That’s because she’s mine, not the resort’s.’ He stepped onto the backboard, set the esky down and turned to take her hand as she joined him. ‘Welcome aboard.’
He stowed the esky before starting the engine. Flick slipped off her sandals and put them beneath the starboard bench seat and then headed for the bollards. ‘Would you like me to untie the mooring ropes?’
‘Yes, please. We’re not going far. Help yourself to a drink once we’re underway.’
‘I’m fine. Happy to wait until we’ve reached our destination.’ As soon as she’d coiled the ropes, Flick sat in the seat on the port bow and watched the light change as they left the resort behind. Tipping her face to the sky, a silly desire rose to do a Kate Winslet in Titanic pose. She giggled and slapped a hand over her mouth.
It had been too long since she’d known this degree of freedom. But one-on-one time with Xander away from prying eyes combined with being out on the water was all it took for her to relax.
Not far proved to be the next bay to the north. Isolated by a near-vertical rocky headland, one of two arms that defined the bay that lapped the resort, Moonglow was the only vessel to drop anchor there. As the anchor caught, the boat rode a tiny swell until the chain took up the slack. Gentle rocking and the slap of an incoming tide muffled the faint sounds of music and people coming from the resort.
Together they set out plates of antipasto and a bottle of French champagne.
‘I’ll leave the main course in the esky for now. I’ve got prawns and oysters on ice.’
‘Can’t wait.’
He poured champagne into a flute and handed it to her before filling his glass and setting the bottle back inside the esky. ‘Cheers.’
‘Cheers. To starry skies and quiet bays away from the madding crowd.’ She tapped her glass against his and sipped. ‘Oh, that’s wonderful.’
‘Chris calls me a philistine with food, but when it comes to wine—’
‘Did Christophe pack this for you?’ Her heart sank a little. Weeks ago, she’d worried when she thought that Christophe had known why she’d burned the sauce. If he’d packed the picnic for them, he’d know now for sure. A ball of embarrassed heat raced along her veins. Keeping her relationship with Xander private was hard, but how much harder would it be if her boss knew she was dating his best friend?
A plop in the water off the stern was a welcome distraction. She turned away, raising her glass and taking a too-big mouthful. Xander’s plans for the evening were thoughtful and romantic and she fought the snarky desire to tell him his choice might have blown their cover.
His fingers trailed softly over her cheek before tucking her hair behind her ear. ‘Relax. When I said I’d packed a picnic? I literally meant I had packed it. I picked everything up in town after my meeting today. Including the antipasto platter.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. I figured Chris would get suspicious if I appeared in his kitchen asking for a picnic basket. I knew you wouldn’t like that.’
Surprised he knew her so well, and pleased with his thoughtfulness, she murmured, ‘Thank you.’ Words failed her for several heartbeats and she breathed in the salty tang of air before meeting his gaze. ‘I’m impressed, and delighted. Let’s try some of that antipasto. With luck, there’ll be Sicilian olives in the mix.’
‘Like them, do you?’ He set his glass down and removed the clear cover from the mix before offering the plate to her.
‘I do, especially in a lemon and herb marinade.’ She selected a plump green olive and popped it into her mouth. Zesty citrus hit her tongue.
Xander’s gaze was fixed on her mouth as he picked blindly from the plate and bit into a cube of feta.
The kernel of an idea blossomed and she examined the food before choosing a pitted Kalamata olive. Picking it up between two fingers, she gave Xander a sideways glance before facing him.
Holding his gaze, she raised the olive to his lips. He leaned forward, opened his mouth and took the olive, holding one of her fingers with gentle pressure between his lips. His tongue touched her finger, the contact fleeting—shockingly intimate and suddenly not enough.
He released her finger, chewed and swallowed before he caught her hand and took her thumb in his mouth. His tongue swirled around her thumb while her blood fizzed with desire to replace her digit with her mouth, her tongue—any part of her he wanted to set his lips on.
‘Flick—’ He released his hold and set both champagne flutes on the table. Drawing her into his arms as though he’d read her thoughts, his lips claimed hers. Hunger for food fled, replaced by a need for Xander—his taste, the feel of his bare skin beneath her palms—that burned brighter than any sun.
‘Yes—’
‘Are you sure you don’t want to eat before—?’
‘Now, Xander. Don’t you know it’s not polite to keep a guest waiting?’
‘Never let it be said my hospitality was called into question. Allow me to show you to your room.’ He grabbed a couple of cushions from the starboard bench before leading the way along the port side to the trampoline. Tossing the cushions down, he turned to her. ‘Is madam happy with the water view, or would she prefer a more private room?’
Flick sank onto the trampoline and tugged his hand until he knelt beside her. ‘Madam loves the view. And the company she’s in. And she’ll be perfectly happy if said company finds a silent occupation for his lips right now.’
A wicked grin flashed before she found herself on her back, her head on one of the cushions and the stars beginning to peep through the darkening sky before Xander lowered his head. Kisses more drugging than champagne sent goose bumps down her arms, pebbled her nipples and set light to an ache between her thighs that nothing would satisfy until Xander …
She gasped as his hand cupped her, warm and firm, ratcheting her need in a tight spiral of desire before she lost herself in his arms.
***
Xander rolled over and lay flat on his back. A sea breeze cooled skin dewed with sweat as strands of Flick’s hair blew across his face and chest. He moved a strand that tickled his lips before pulling her closer to his side. Lying on his back under the starry night with the catamaran rocking gently beneath them, a sense of contentment filled him. Right here, right now, he could claim he was happy and mean it.
‘Hungry?’ He nuzzled her ear.
‘I don’t know about you, but I’ve worked up an appetite.’
He sat up, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. The cat rocked on the top of the tide and she slapped both hands against his chest. ‘Oops, sorry.’
‘Feeling a little weak in the legs, are you?’ He tried not to grin, but it was a point of honour that he made each evening memorable for Flick.
‘Hmm, probably that French champagne has gone to my head.’ Her lips pressed together.
He was sure she was teasing, even before her lips twitched and laughter erupted.
‘I’d like to say You rock my world, but that’s so cheesy when we’re on my boat.’
‘Even for you.’ Grinning, she straightened her skirt and took his hand for the walk back to their abandoned feast.
Their champagne had lost its chill. Xander emptied both glasses over the side, poured fresh glasses and handed her one.
He offered the platter of antipasto to her. ‘Sounds like you need more fuel before round two.’
Twin points of light shone in her eyes as she looked at him. ‘Sounds like you’ve got plans for the night.’
‘Big plans. I want to discover more of what you like and what else tips you over the edge. And then I want to see how many times we can make that jump.’
One fingertip slowly circled the rim of her glass before she sipped and set it down. ‘You’re on two and counting.’ Selecting a slice of pastrami, she wrapped it around a green olive and bit the whole neatly in two.
He watched Flick as she ate, saw the slick of olive oil on her lips, and her tongue as it touched the corners of her mouth. His imagination ran free. What he might do with more of that oil later was the stuff of fantasy.
She created another olive pastrami sandwich and offered it to him. ‘Of course, if you’re talking about simultaneous jumps, we’re at one. But I’m happy to practise all night …’ She paused and grinned, gesturing vaguely towards the cabin, ‘But it depends how much you’re up for.’
He tipped his head and looked down his nose at her. This was what he’d missed in the long, slow months of focusing on nothing but renovating Rainbow Cove; this light-hearted ribbing that bubbled along the surface of a deeper connection with someone.
Not just anyone—Flick. ‘I’ll be up for it as often as you want. Now eat up and enjoy. That seafood is still waiting.’
Bantering with Flick was fun. Sexy bantering was a turn-on. Not that he needed another reason to want Flick, but a week of watching her interact with his sister and waiting to steal a kiss or three had sharpened his need to know her in a physical sense until the idea of a medieval rack seemed almost kinder. The past few weeks had cemented that need until he knew.
Change was coming and he needed to find a way around the distance between the new project at Airlie Beach and Rainbow Cove.
Their first time making love outside—under starry skies, with soft sea breezes cooling heated skin—had a surreal quality he planned to repeat—often. There wasn’t much time before he went north to his next project, but he would find a solution.
There has to be time enough to find one.