The Trouble with Mojitos (4 page)

The ground floor offices seemed deserted, though he could hear the distant murmur of voices.

Rik took the stairs two at a time, not waiting for Kenzie to follow. The sooner he got her in to see the mayor, the sooner he could leave. He’d take a taxi back to the resort to fetch his car, then …  that was as far as his thoughts could take him. What then?

The stairs diverged. To the right lay the main reception and the airless waiting room. He took the left flight, rising to a corridor that overlooked the courtyard. The first office at the top of the stairs was spacious and air-conditioned. The middle-aged secretary within barely glanced up from her computer screen as Rik tapped on the door and pushed it all the way open. “How may I help you, Mr … ?”

“You can call me Rik.”

She looked up at him over the top of her tortoiseshell spectacles and her eyes widened. He had her full attention now. This was the one place in the islands where his face was instantly recognised. She blushed and smoothed back her thick swathe of dark hair. “Oh, I’m so sorry … ”

“Is the mayor in?”

“Yes, of course he is.” Then she caught sight of Kenzie and her voice faltered. “That is … ” She dropped her eyes. Meaning he was in for Rik, but not for anyone else. Now that was the kind of reaction he was more used to getting.

For the first time he wondered how it might feel to be the one forced to wait in the airless waiting room. At least he hadn’t yet fallen so far.

“My friend here would like a few minutes with the mayor, if that’s at all possible?”

The secretary hesitated, casting another glance past his shoulder to Kenzie. Rik had spent enough time on Los Pajaros to interpret that look. The only women with any authority in these islands – the only women who’d have any business with the mayor – were mature and respected. They weren’t pretty young things.

He arched an eyebrow.

“I’ll check.” The secretary slid out of her chair and hurried to the connecting door, eager to shift the decision of whether to let the foreign girl into the inner sanctum to someone else.

She reappeared scarcely a moment later, smoothing her hair once again. “You may go in.”

Rik held the door to the mayor’s office open for Kenzie.

“Bravo,” she whispered as she brushed past.

He didn’t respond. The swift contact between their bodies, the whiff of feminine perfume, her low husky whisper, and the sudden, electrifying heat that flashed between them left him momentarily dazzled. Last night’s bender was having some interesting side effects.

The mayor’s office was of colonial proportions, dwarfing the massive mahogany desk he sat behind. The purr of the air-con was subtle, but its effect was not.

The mayor’s tense smile suggested impatience beneath the politeness as he rose to his full height. “How may I assist you, Your … ”

Behind Kenzie’s back, Rik furiously shook his head as he cut him off. “Thank you for seeing us, sir. This is Kenzie Cole and she has a request to make of you.”

“More of a business proposition.” She turned on the same megawatt smile she’d used on him the night before, to pretty much the same effect. The mayor’s smile looked a little less forced as he waved them to sit.

Not one to tempt fate, Rik stepped back. When Kenzie turned to look for him, he shrugged as if to say,
the floor’s all yours
, and leaned back against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

She turned her back on him, focussing all her attention on the mayor, and Rik breathed an internal sigh of relief.

Kenzie was pretty impressive when she turned on the charm. Just flirtatious enough to catch the mayor’s interest, just professional enough to be taken seriously. She pulled out a folder from the small rucksack she carried, presenting facts and figures. The mayor leaned closer at the words ‘jobs for your laid off ship builders.’

Even Rik stood straighter. Kenzie had done her homework.

Next to tourism, the yacht building business had been Los Pajaros’ biggest employer until the recession slashed the demand for such luxuries. Kenzie proposed using the workers who’d lost their jobs to build the pirate ships needed for the film. “It would only be a few months’ work, of course, but that’s better than nothing, isn’t it?”

She sent the mayor another winning smile and he melted. Rik nearly did too. Or he would have, if his entire body hadn’t been hard.

The mayor beamed. “You have my full support. I will email the harbour master and ask him to provide you with a boat and an escort. Where do you want to take your photographs?”

Kenzie pulled aerial maps from her folder. “These are the islands I’d like to visit, especially these two – Corona and Tortuga.”

Rik stiffened.

The mayor leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Not possible.”

Kenzie’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Why not? You just told me I had your full support.”

The mayor cast a beseeching look at Rik.

He pushed away from the doorframe. “Corona is private property.”

Her brow furrowed. He didn’t need to be a mind reader to know she was wondering why Corona was marked on every map as government property if it was private. “And Tortuga?”

Rik and the mayor exchanged a look, and it was Rik who answered again. “Tortuga is a breeding ground for sea turtles.”

“It’s not a nature sanctuary – I checked. Besides, the hatching season will be well over by the time we shoot.”

The mayor’s mouth set in a grim line. “No one from these islands has set foot on Isla Tortuga in over three centuries.”

The disbelief on Kenzie’s face turned to incredulity. “Why ever not?”

The mayor squirmed. “It’s haunted.”

Rik gave her credit for not laughing.

“I’m not superstitious. If our film crew aren’t from these islands and don’t mind working there, would you give us permission to film on Tortuga?”

He gave her credit for not giving up either.

Again, the mayor glanced at Rik, this time for approval. The poor man’s dilemma was clear. The local economy could do with an injection of capital and a higher international profile. But Tortuga … 

Rik nodded.

“I will,” the mayor answered Kenzie.

“Thank you. Is there anyone who isn’t from these islands who could take me there to photograph the place?”

The mayor paused only a fraction of a second before he looked at Rik. “You have a boat. Could you take her?”

Oh no. That wasn’t part of his plan for the rest of the day. Or ever.

Not to mention the mere thought of being on a boat was making him feel green again. He shook his head. “Not today.”

“Do you have anything better to do tomorrow, then?”

Of course the mayor knew he had nothing better to do. The mayor knew everything that went on around these islands.

Kenzie also turned to look at him, expectant. But where the mayor’s eyes held hope, hers held an entirely different expression. Reluctance.

She’d felt the attraction too. And she didn’t want to.

Rik shut his eyes, blocking out both their faces.

He knew exactly what tomorrow held. It would be the same as every other day. The sun would shine. He’d wake late, and go for a swim to clear the fuzziness in his head. By the time his arms and legs were too tired to swim any further, he’d wash up on the beach. And that’s when the emptiness would hit.

He would spend the rest of his day trying to fill that emptiness. He would run on the beach, or take Adam’s boat out, or he’d drink. And he’d already done enough of all these things to last a lifetime.

Even if it was just a boat ride to Tortuga, it beat spending another day in Adam’s guesthouse while the walls pressed in on him. But he was done with helping people, unless there was something in it for him. And there was only one thing Kenzie had that he wanted…

Now that was an interesting idea.

He shrugged. “Okay.”

Relief crossed the mayor’s face. He turned back to Kenzie. “If your director likes the island, then you build your boats on Los Pajaros and you accommodate your crew on Los Pajaros, and you film on Tortuga.”
Translation: you spend your money here on Los Pajaros
. “But you must promise me that no islanders will have to go to Tortuga.”

“Agreed. Do we have a deal?” Kenzie offered the mayor a courteous handshake.

“Deal.” The mayor took Kenzie’s hand, but instead of the expected shake, he bowed over their joined hands in the local custom.

Rik held the door open for her, but this time she was careful to avoid contact as she passed. Her scent still slammed into him, though.

He grinned. His body was taking over from his brain. That was an interesting first. He knew passion didn’t last and that it burned out far too quickly, but he didn’t care. She was only passing through. For just this once, he wanted to be like every other man and indulge his desires.

So she thought she didn’t want a man like him, a purposeless drifter with tattoos. And she didn’t trust him. Never mind. He could work with that. He’d make her want him, and she wouldn’t be able to resist.

Head high.

@KenzieCole101: Who knew pirates still ruled the Caribbean?

They stood on the pavement beside her rental car. Kenzie shifted, uncomfortably hot inside her own skin. She’d scarcely been able to concentrate throughout the meeting with the scorching awareness of Rik’s presence behind her, and the effort was starting to take its toll.

Or perhaps it was just the heat. Or last night’s lack of sleep.

It was most certainly not physical attraction making her forget why she was here, or her vow to Lee. And it sure as hell couldn’t be the memory of those inked biceps making her want to indulge her fetish for bad boys.

She wasn’t that weak, was she, after everything she’d already been through?

“So what now?” She looked at the palm trees lining the esplanade, at the sizzling tar at her feet … anywhere but towards Rik.

“Now I take you home.”

At that, her gaze flew to his, horror that he’d read her thoughts tainting her cheeks.

“I need to fetch my car, remember?” That mocking look was back in his eyes.

His car. Of course. She hoped he believed her blush was due to the midday sun burning down.

She moved to the driver’s side but Rik shook his head and held out his hand. “This time I drive.”

She hesitated. While there was something in his tone that demanded obedience, it also made her skin crawl. He might not have any right to a title these days but he still acted like he ruled the world. Bloody Golden Boys.

But she had several ex-boyfriends and a ‘perfect’ big bother who’d helped her develop an immunity to men who believed the world would do their bidding. Just because the rest of the world thought they had it all didn’t mean they weren’t all douches. In her experience, men like Rik could charm the pants off you in one breath then make you feel like a piece of shit with the next.

And she wasn’t going to let anyone make her feel like that again.

She tossed the car keys at him. “Fine.”

He didn’t take them back the way they’d come. Instead, he drove along the edge of the harbour, out the other side of town and onto a rutted tar road that snaked around the steeply peaked mountain that had once been a volcano.

The road climbed higher and higher up the side of the mountain, twisting and turning, until her knuckles were white with a tension that wasn’t entirely induced by the cliff edge a few feet from the car’s tyres.

It may have been centuries since the volcano was last active, but she was sure the atmosphere inside the car would register on the Volcanic Explosivity Index. If she thought she’d been aware of him in the mayor’s office, it was nothing compared to her awareness of him inside the tight confines of the little car.

He slowed the car, shifting gear, the fabric of his jeans pulling taut across his thighs. She swallowed and looked away. “I thought we were going back to the hotel?”

“We are. I’m taking you back via the scenic route.”

He pulled the car into a layby. The vegetation on this side of the mountain was low scrub, allowing unparalleled views. On the wide plain below them were the sugar cane fields that were still the island’s most profitable export.

Rik leaned across her, and her whole body went on high alert. Defcon one. Danger of explosion imminent.

Remember him drunk and passed out, you stupid girl. That ought to calm the hormones.

A chain of small islands curved out from Los Pajaros. The charter boat had taken her to the nearest of those. At the furthest tip of the curve a smudge of green was visible on the distant horizon. “That’s Tortuga.” Rik said, pointing out her window. “Corona isn’t visible from here.” His voice sounded almost wistful.

She blinked to clear the dancing spots before her eyes and the fog in her brain, relieved when Rik returned both his hands to the steering wheel and re-started the car.

Sleep, that’s what she needed. She was an eight hours a night girl and once she’d had an uninterrupted night of sleep, she would stop feeling this raw sexual tension that seemed to be zipping up and down her body. She rubbed her arms.

The road twisted and turned around the dormant volcano, away from the flat plain and the sugar cane fields, gradually descending through a plantation of banana trees to more familiar terrain; dense tropical vegetation, idyllic sandy beaches, and the lush resorts where tourists played in the sunshine.

Rik turned the car in through the gates of her hotel, into the long palm-fringed avenue with golf greens on either side. The resort buildings rose up before them, gleaming white and tiered like a wedding cake.

“So what’s the plan for tomorrow?” she asked as he parked her rental beside his.

“I’ll meet you in the hotel reception at ten.”

She rolled her eyes. “Now where’ve I heard that before? How can I be sure you’ll be there?”

His dark eyes glittered. “I’ll be there.”

He held out his palm with her car keys. His hand was tanned and oddly roughened, not as smooth and manicured as she’d expected of a prince. Gingerly, she took the car keys from him, careful not to touch him in case she combusted.

He raised an eyebrow. “
My
keys?”

She flushed, the heat burning her skin. “Of course.” She fumbled in her rucksack for his car keys, and held them out less carefully. His fingers stroked the sensitive flesh of her palm as he took them. His gaze fixed on her hand, and he smiled. Then he opened the car door and climbed out.

“Until tomorrow,” he said, slamming the door closed.

She nodded, mute. It was a long time before she managed to move. Only when his flashy car roared to deafening life and slid out of its parking bay, did she open her own door. It was as though his touch had short-circuited the wiring in her body.

She had a dreadful suspicion that Lee was going to be very, very disappointed in her when she got back to Blighty.

“Damn him.”

***

@KenzieCole101: @LeeHill Is Neil in a huff that I got the permission?

@LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 He’s moaning about cost of travelling caterers & labour but the Director's smiling like he just came. Clock’s still ticking.

@KenzieCole101: @LeeHill Any word on how the other scouts are doing?

@Lee Hill: @KenzieCole101 The scout on BVI has connections with Richard Branson. You need to hurry with your pics.

Kenzie rubbed her temple. As one of the film’s art directors, Lee had not only got her this gig but also had access to all the inside intel, for which Kenzie was grateful. She needed every bit of help she could get. But she was running out of time. Tortuga had better deliver or some other scout would get the glory.

It was ten the next morning and she waited in the hotel’s reception, on exactly the same velveteen banquette where Rik had lain the other night. Her foot tapped nervously on the tiled floor as she typed a final response to her flatmate.

She could do this. She was going to return to London a success. She could feel her destiny drawing closer, whatever it was, and Rik wasn’t going to distract her from her goal. He wasn’t a pirate, he was a prince. She didn’t like princes. She wasn’t a Disney kind of girl. Well, except for Flynn Rider … 

She strained to hear the distinctive roar of the sports car, so when Rik strode into reception, not from the car park but from the gardens, he caught her by surprise. Which was
so
not a good way to start the day. She frowned. “Where’s your car?”

“Good morning to you too.” He grinned and hefted her camera bag onto his shoulder effortlessly. “We can’t get where we’re going by car, remember?”

Against her will, she drank him in. Today he wore dark jeans and a white open-necked, collared shirt. The merest hint of tattoo peeked out from beneath his collar. How had he managed to keep that tattoo hidden back in Westerwald? He must have worn nothing but buttoned-up suits and ties. She could hardly imagine it. The Rik who stood before her now looked nothing like a suit and tie kind of man. He looked like a windblown adventurer, with his tan, his days’ old stubble and overlong hair brushing his collar.

He looked like a man who could give Flynn Rider a run for his money.

She followed him through the gardens and down to the resort’s pier where a number of pleasure cruisers and luxury fishing boats were docked. She had to run to keep up with his long strides.

He definitely appeared in better shape today, which was just as well since he’d be transporting her across open ocean, but did he have to keep wrong-footing her? He was not a man she wanted to let have the upper hand. She wasn’t sure her willpower would withstand the test.

At around forty feet, Rik’s yacht wasn’t the biggest moored alongside the pier, but it was the sleekest, and definitely the most immaculate. Kenzie didn’t know much about boats, but it looked impressive; white and very neat, its wooden deck uncluttered by the ropes and accoutrements of its neighbours. It was certainly more elegant than the workhorse motorboat she’d been skippered around in before.

“Can you sail this thing alone?” she asked, eyeing the mast with its furled sail in trepidation.

“
This thing
is a single-handed boat. And she has an engine.”

He was laughing at her. She breathed deeply. She was lucky to be going to Tortuga at all. She could put up with anything he threw at her.

He held out his hand to help her on board, but she ignored it, grasped the railing and hoisted herself up onto the deck. Okay, so it wasn’t elegant, but it sure beat the heart-fluttering sensation which was sure to accompany his touch.

Rik unsecured the ropes that tethered the boat to the dock, hopped onboard, and made his way nimbly to the helm while Kenzie was still trying to find her balance.

He stowed her camera bag in a locker beneath the wheel. She perched on the cushioned bench beside the wheel and settled her wide-brimmed sun hat on her head and her sunglasses on her face. “How long will it take us to get there?”

“Wind’s a good twenty knots, so I’d say a little over an hour. You’re welcome to make yourself comfortable in the cabin, if you’d like.”

“No thanks. The sun is shining. Where I’m from that’s a pretty big deal and not to be missed.” even though she had a tendency to freckle in even the weakest British sun.

In spite of the complete inappropriateness of present company, she also didn’t want to miss the impressive view up here on deck. Just because she shouldn’t touch, didn’t mean she couldn’t look .… right?

She sneaked more than a few peeks as he rolled up his sleeves, revealing another glimpse of ink and some pretty fine muscle.

He hardly seemed to notice her as he unfurled the sails, edged the boat away from the dock, and set course out to sea. The boat picked up speed as they hit open water and the sails filled.

He was right about the single-handed thing. Everything seemed to be rigged to operate from the helm with a minimum amount of effort. Trimming the sails took just enough labour that she could appreciate why his hands weren’t as lily-soft as she’d expected. He wasn’t afraid to use them.

She shivered at that thought.

They weren’t alone. There were other boats, pleasure craft and fishing boats, plying the smooth, blue sea between the islands, and in the distance she spotted the ferry that ran between the main island of Los Pajaros and the smaller inhabited island of Arelat.

She recognised a few of the islands they passed from her tour with the charter boat. Popular water sport spots jostled alongside tiki bars and restaurants that served fish pulled straight from the sea. If she got this right, the film crew were going to be in heaven on their days off.

The islands grew further apart and less populated. The last of the islands she’d toured previously was Sandy Bar, literally nothing more than a massive dune spotted with palm trees.

Then they were into virgin territory.

“So where are you from?” Rik asked, settling back beside her in the cockpit.

“England.”

“No kidding. I meant where in England are you from?”

“Hertfordshire born and bred, in a place you’ve probably never heard of. St Albans.”

“Roman ruins, a duck pond and The Waffle House, right?”

Wow. How on earth did a prince of a European nation know The Waffle House? But since she wasn’t supposed to know who he was, she asked only “you’ve been there?”

“I have a friend who lives nearby. Have you ever been on a yacht before?”

As it happens, she had. It wasn’t exactly a memory she was proud of, though. Bad Boy Number One had been a promising footballer. He’d hung with a crowd who she’d thought had it all – money, beauty, dazzlingly bright futures, while she’d been an ordinary girl from an ordinary end of terrace house in suburbia with nothing more than big dreams.

They’d taken her sailing around Cowes once and all got horribly drunk – except Kenzie who’d done her usual and tried to be responsible and fix things. But as the sea had grown rougher and the rain lashed down on them, and her footballer was too busy being sick over the railings, she hadn’t been able fix anything. By the time the Coastguard rescued them she’d been in full-scale panic mode, convinced they were all going to drown.

They’d got off with nothing more than a slap on the wrist – her first experience of the kind of influence money could buy – but they’d made the papers and her parents had been livid.

It wasn’t the only time she’d made the tabloids. After a while, her parents had stopped being livid. They’d just been disappointed. Still were, even though those days were long gone.

She cringed now. That was all going to change. They’d see, the whole world would see, that she wasn’t just a screw up. That she really was destined for great things.

She’d felt it since she was a child, this feeling that there was something
more
for her out there. A couple of times she’d thought she’d found it, like with Bad Boy Number Two, Charlie, heir to an Earldom. Another of those Golden Boys who seemed to have it all. But again, it had been nothing but the brass ring.

Still, she wasn’t going to give up the faith. Things always worked out in the end. If she didn’t believe that, she’d have been a basket case long before now.