‘We’ve ordered,’ she said tersely.
‘Sorry.’ Rick smiled and shrugged.
‘No worries,’ the woman said, her smile not wavering, her gaze not leaving his. ‘If you need anything just yell. I’m Holly.’
‘Thanks, I’ll holler, Holly,’ he said and she giggled.
Stella rolled her eyes. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
Rick grinned. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
Stella ignored him, instead choosing to go through the docket with him for anything she might have forgotten while they waited for their meal. It was going to be too late once they’d cast off in the morning. No less than two waitresses interrupted them while they did so.
Their meals finally arrived and Stella almost laughed as yet another woman, a leggy redhead, delivered them.
Were they drawing straws?
This one looked older—older than Rick for sure—and had the calm authority and predatory grace of a woman who knew what she liked. She introduced herself as the owner.
‘Ramona was saying you’re sailing north for a few weeks. I don’t suppose you need a deckhand?’ she joked as she placed Rick’s meal in front of him.
‘I’m the deckhand,’ Stella intoned.
Was she invisible?
Was it that ridiculous to think that she could be his girlfriend? It seemed every female employee in the coffee shop thought so, if their quick dismissive gazes followed by their unabashed flirting were any indication.
She wanted to stand up and say, Hey, I’m a famous author, don’t you know. But then Rick looked at her and winked and she felt as if he’d just ruffled her hair and slipped her a few bucks to run along and leave him do his thing.
She felt like his kid sister.
‘Do you know boats?’ Rick asked.
The woman smiled. ‘Oh, yes, my ex always owned classic yachts. I hear yours is a beauty.’
Rick nodded enthusiastically. ‘You should drop by the marina and see her. The Stella is a true class act.’
Stella blinked.
Had he just invited a cougar back to the boat?
Oh, no, don’t mind me.
The woman smiled at him. ‘I may just do that.’
‘Can I get some cracked pepper?’ Stella asked.
The redhead gave her a cursory once-over and disregarded her in less than five seconds. ‘I’ll send Ramona over,’ she said and she slunk away.
‘God, this looks good, doesn’t it?’ Rick asked as he turned his attention to his meal.
Stella had suddenly lost her appetite. Sometimes she just couldn’t work him out. The man knew he was attractive to women. She’d seen him work that to his advantage too many times to class him as clueless, but she didn’t think he truly understood how effortlessly it worked in his favour.
Even when he wasn’t trying, women flocked. And of that, he was totally unaware. She was sure of it.
She picked at her meal and was pleased when they managed to leave the coffee shop unmolested forty-five minutes later. He took the trolley, managing it like the flocks of women—effortlessly—and they caught a taxi back to the marina.
Once on board they stocked the galley with the supplies then sat at the dining table drinking beer and plotting their course. Stella felt the jet lag catching up with her again as Rick’s deep English voice, sounding even more so in this land of different accents, laid out the first leg from Cairns to Port Moresby, which would take them about two sailing days. The boat bobbed rhythmically to the melody of a hundred loose halyards clinking against their masts and she yawned.
It wasn’t until a voice from outside disturbed them that Stella realised two hours had passed in a drowsy haze and she’d barely taken any of it in.
‘Ahoy there! Anyone home?’
Rick frowned. ‘Who’s that?’
Stella’s head cleared as she recognised the sultry tones of the coffee-shop owner. ‘I’m guessing it’s the leggy, redheaded cougar.’
Rick laughed as he took a swig of his second beer. ‘Really? Oh...’
He seemed disappointed, which perversely made her both happy and annoyed and a lot more awake. ‘Er...you invited her here. What did you expect?’
‘Did I?’ Rick frowned. He didn’t recall.
Stella blinked. ‘You said, you should drop by the marina. Women are literal creatures, Rick.’
He stood. ‘That’s cool.’ He disappeared into the galley and came out with another beer. ‘It’s never a hardship to spend some time with a beautiful woman. Who appreciates a classic yacht.’
Stella rolled her eyes. ‘She’s a decade older than you.’
He shrugged, then grinned at her as he cracked the tops on the beers. ‘So?’ And then she watched him disappear up the winding staircase.
Great.
What the hell was she supposed to do while he dallied above deck with a woman about the same age as her mother as if he were some young buck in need of sexual tutelage?
God, no, he wouldn’t...surely he wouldn’t have sex with her up there where anyone could see him? Surely he’d at least bring her to his cabin?
But then the thought of him bringing her down here was confronting on other levels. Stella didn’t want another woman below deck sullying all that it meant to her—to them.
God, would she be forced to listen to them rocking the bloody boat all night?
Would they be loud?
She didn’t think that Rick would be a silent lover. She’d always imagined he’d be quite vocal in his appreciation of a woman.
Just like Vasco.
She could only pray the jet lag still tugging at the peripheries of her consciousness would sink her completely under in a deep sound-proof abyss.
Stella could hear their muffled voices above her and could feel herself getting madder with each passing minute. She tried to concentrate on the weather charts and tide times on the laptop in front of her, but her eyes felt too gritty. She even pulled out her father’s research papers and tried to immerse herself in them, but she was just too damn tired and the redhead’s deep throaty laugh was just too damn distracting.
She could feel herself getting more and more tense.
How dared he entertain a lady and expect her to just meld into the furniture,
