Sunlight batted against Flick’s closed eyelids. She raised a hand to shield her eyes and turned her head away from the light. Her nose discovered a sprinkling of chest hair on warm skin with an underlying scent of sex, and memory returned with wakefulness. Opening her eyes, she looked into Xander’s.
‘Good morning.’
‘Morning.’ She blinked at the unexpected close-up of his grey eyes, silvered in the early light of day and drew the sheet across her breasts and under her arm. With a wriggle and a grin, she sat up and leaned against the headboard of the double bed. Usually she was up and dressed before he was fully awake, and on her way back to her quarters. This waking up beside him with sunlight streaming in through the window was deliciously new. Exciting. Probably addictive.
The catamaran rose and fell gently on a full tide as Flick pushed her hair back behind her ears.
Dark stubble outlined Xander’s chin and cheeks, and his hair, usually so neat, was messy in a way that made her want to smooth her fingers through it just for the pleasure of messing it up again.
He rolled onto his side, one arm crooked beneath his head, and raised a hand to trace her mouth. ‘Do you want breakfast before we head back to the resort, or can I interest you in—’
‘Round four?’ Gently she bit his finger as it traced the seam of her lips. ‘How long have we got?’
He rolled away and picked up his watch from the bedside table. ‘It’s five-thirty. Plenty of time before we have to pull up anchor.’
‘My shift starts at seven.’ Part of her regretted agreeing to do an extra half shift. If not for that, they could have stayed in the cove on Xander’s catamaran all morning. The temptation to call in sick was strong, but Flick wouldn’t do that to Christophe.
Xander set his watch down and leaned up on his elbow. One finger traced the swell of her breast above the sheet. When her nipples reacted to his touch, he traced them through the fine cotton of the sheet. ‘How long do you need to get ready?’
Her eyes closed as a familiar, needy ache for Xander radiated from her core. ‘Thirty minutes to shower, eat, dress and get to the kitchen.’
‘And thirty minutes to weigh anchor and motor back to the jetty. So we have thirty minutes.’
‘Make it forty. Eating is overrated.’
Slipping her arms around his neck, she rolled—he rolled—until she sprawled on top of him like his own personal blanket. Mouths meshed, limbs entwined, they made every one of their forty minutes memorable.
***
Xander brought the Moonglow alongside the jetty and Flick nimbly tied off the bow and stern lines. Grabbing her sandals and handbag, she caught Xander leaning on the helm and just watching her. A flash of daring mixed with a need to touch him one last time before she left. Pressing herself against him, she wrapped one arm around his neck and kissed him.
Intensely. Passionately. An I-don’t-want-to-let-you-go kind of kiss he returned in full.
When they surfaced, her lips tingled. ‘Wow.’ She rested her forehead against his chin, eyes closed against the brilliance of a new day picking out the tips of waves in the cove.
‘Yeah, wow.’ Gently he held her shoulders. ‘Any chance you’d be free tonight for a repeat performance?’
‘For sure. I’ll bring dinner this time.’
‘My place? Or do you want to go out on Moonglow again?’
‘Your apartment. I’ll drop a few things up there ready to cook dinner tonight, if that’s okay?’
‘That’s fine, except I’ll be away all day in a meeting. How about I call into the kitchen on my way out and give you a key?’
She frowned, already shaking her head at the idea of the gossip that would spring from such a visit. Her stomach took a dive and a little of the shine rubbed off the idea of tonight. ‘I’d rather you didn’t.’
‘I’m not going to march up to you and hold the key card up and say “Here’s the key to my apartment, Flick.” Nobody will know; I’ll put it in an envelope and mark it From Jenny if that makes it easier.’
From the depths of her bag, the phone trilled a reminder: Shift starts in 15 mins. Shuffling from foot to foot, she realised she’d run out of time. ‘Fine, an envelope from Jenny. Got to run. Later.’
Stepping off the backboard onto the jetty without looking back took every ounce of self-discipline she had. The desire to run back and kiss him or argue a case for him not to turn up in her workspace was almost too strong.
She was never going to be the woman who dated her boss, no matter how wrong anyone who thought that would be.
Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she sprinted down the path away from the boatshed and temptation.
***
Respecting Flick’s wishes went without saying for Xander. But her I’d rather you didn’t felt like a roadblock that defined and limited their relationship.
In the beginning, he’d been glad—delighted he had an exit strategy for when he moved north.
But now the thought of leaving Flick behind left him feeling empty.
Even if he flew back once a week, where did that leave them?
Checking everything was shipshape, Xander pocketed the key before he hefted the esky onto the jetty. He picked up the handle and wheeled it along the jetty.
As he stepped onto terra firma, Eve approached. At eight months pregnant, she was about to go on maternity leave, and she still had a lot to do before handing over responsibility to Marta, who would be taking over her job.
Eve tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear and resettled a peaked cap on her head. Standing in the small patch of shade cast by a nearby palm tree, her hands went to the now familiar position in the small of her back as she chatted. ‘Hi, Xander, I know it’s my day off but I arranged to come in to answer some of Marta’s questions. Even though she grew up here, she’s been away for a while and was worried she might be a bit rusty on local stuff.’
‘Thanks, Eve.’
‘Will you be wanting Moonglow again?’
‘I won’t need it tonight, but would you mind getting one of the boys to drive it back to its mooring for me? I’m running a little late.’
‘Sure.’ She glanced at the path down which Flick had disappeared and bit her bottom lip. ‘Um, will you be wanting a service on the interior as well as refuelling?’ Her gaze skittered across his, not quite making contact, and he knew.
Careful as he and Flick had been, they were busted.
‘Yes, please, Eve.’ He fished in his shirt pocket and pulled out the key of the catamaran. ‘You’ll need this.’
‘No problem.’
He nodded and headed back to the main resort building. The wheels of the esky crunched through a stretch of gravel, rumbled on the brick pavers, and squeaked on the foyer tiles. As he passed the giant Christmas tree, he knocked a glittery bauble off a branch. It hit the floor with a tinkling crash and rolled towards the front desk. Everywhere he walked, it felt as though the esky announced his presence, revealing Flick’s secret assignation with him.
Had it been stupid on his part to imagine they could fly under everyone’s radar? Noting the interested looks from staff on reception—quickly disguised by raised papers or sudden telephone conversations—he acknowledged staying in his apartment would have been far less obvious. Going out on the boat with Flick, coming back to the resort wearing yesterday’s clothes and stubble, and pulling an esky at seven in the morning—he might as well have taken out a paid advertisement.
And yet there was nothing wrong in the scenario. He wasn’t Flick’s boss.
He stabbed the call button on the lift and pulled the esky in behind him. With a quick wave of his key card across the reader, the doors closed, and the lift rose. Christmas carols—bright and light and full of joy to all mankind—accompanied his ascent to the penthouse. He’d felt joyful after the night with Flick, right up until Eve had asked him about servicing the interior of the catamaran. Flick would hate that news.
There was nothing wrong with dating Flick, and everything right. So why did he feel as though he’d failed her?