The Trouble with Mojitos (5 page)

“I have,” she answered Rik.

“Great. You take the wheel. I’m going down to get us a drink. Just keep her straight.”

Oh no! She wasn’t going to relive that particular memory!

But before she could protest, Rik abandoned her at the helm and disappeared through the hatch into the cabin. She clung to the wheel for dear life and concentrated on keeping the boat headed straight.

Please, please don’t let Rik get drunk again
. What would she do on her own on a boat in the middle of the ocean? What if there were rocks or reefs or … ?

This wasn’t the Isle of Wight and she had no idea who to call for help. Would any local even come to her aid if they were too scared to set foot on Tortuga? They’d probably leave her to the sharks.

Her hands gripped the wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.

She forced herself to breathe as she anxiously scanned the sky. Clear and blue and wide, with only the fluffiest of clouds to be seen.

Was the beam supposed to move like that?

She gripped the wheel harder. On the day at Cowes, the weather had also started like this. But it hadn’t taken long for the wind to pick up and the sea to turn into a raging monster.

When Rik finally re-emerged, juggling two bottles of water and two cans of pop – and not a beer in sight – she nearly threw herself at him in relief.

“I wasn’t sure what you wanted?” he asked, holding out the selection.

She prised her grip from the wheel and smacked his chest.

“Ow, what was that for?”

“Don’t do that to me again!”

“Do what?” his brow furrowed.

“Abandon me like that.” She took a bottle of water from him and sagged back on the bench, opened it and glugged down the refreshing liquid.

That was bad boys all over. Thought of no-one but themselves, dumped you when it suited them, and left you to carry the can. She was so over it.

***

@KenzieCole101: I’m so excited I could throw up. Oh wait, maybe that’s just seasickness.

Rik adjusted the course of the boat and took a swig from his water bottle. She’d been scared, and he couldn’t work out why. The sea was calm as a lake today, the wind just right, visibility good. And out here, a few miles off Isla Tortuga, there was little chance of other traffic.

Kenzie was certainly nothing like the women he’d dated before. She appeared confident and capable, yet she clearly wasn’t as self-assured as she seemed. Teresa would never have gone to pieces like that. Nor would his ex-girlfriend have looked at him with that mix of relief, anger and heat.

Their relationship had been uncomplicated and easy, and he’d never tried to make it anything more. He’d never wondered what Teresa was thinking. With the clarity of hindsight he had to admit he’d never really cared enough to find out.

“We’ll need to sail around to the leeward side of the island to the break in the reef,” he said, altering their course a little. “There’s a deep lagoon that side that might work for your pirate ship.”

Kenzie lifted her head, instantly intrigued. “You’ve been here before?”

“A few times. My brother and I … ” he swallowed. “We used to spend part of our summer holidays here in the islands. When we were teens we dared each other to sail to Tortuga. Teenage boys don’t believe in curses … ” He pressed his lips together.

They’d come not once, but dozens of times over the years, feeling brave and invulnerable. He was starting to believe in the curse now, though. He’d lost everything he ever loved, and Max had been forced to give up on his dreams, his passion for wine making. If that wasn’t a curse, he didn’t know what was.

Although, Max must have found a new passion to replace the old if he was getting married. Rik hadn’t paid much thought to the bride before now, but fleetingly he wondered what kind of woman had managed to get his footloose younger brother to the altar.

Either that, or he’d realised the benefit of a partner to share the burden. Though why he’d chosen some obscure American over a candidate as suitable as Teresa, was anyone’s guess.

“You’re lucky.” Kenzie shielded her eyes as she looked to where Tortuga loomed out of the sea. “My brother and I rarely did stuff together. Our ideas of fun were always so different.” She worried her lip again. The stirring in his lower half whenever she did that was starting to feel almost familiar.

He shifted position. “How many siblings do you have?”

“One is more than enough.”

“You don’t get along?”

She shrugged. “James is okay, but we have nothing in common. He’s just so … unadventurous.”

“And you are?” He cocked an eyebrow at her, and she blushed and looked away. She certainly looked like an adventurer, in her cargo pants, hiking boots and khaki hat, but the image that flashed through his mind at her blush had absolutely nothing to do with clothing. No clothing at all, in fact.

“Why do the locals believe the island is haunted?” she asked, keeping her gaze averted.

“Not so much haunted as cursed. It’s said that anyone who visits Tortuga will suffer lifelong grief and heartache.” And violent death.

“Why?”

“There’s a local legend that a sorcerer cast a curse on the island after he lost the love of his life to another man, a pirate from Tortuga.”

Rik completely understood that urge for revenge. Those first weeks after he’d arrived in Los Pajaros he’d been angry at the world, and his loss had been far greater than the loss of a prospective wife. After all, wasn’t the love for one’s nation far greater than love for a woman?

He breathed out heavily. It was just a tragedy that had happened a long time ago. He hadn’t reached this point in his life because of some old curse. He was here because his life had been built on lies, and his mother, one of only three people in the world he’d trusted implicitly, had been the liar.

He concentrated on looking for the break in the coral reef that circled the island, sheltering Tortuga’s bays from the open sea. He’d swum and snorkelled in these coves often enough to know where the deepest channels were, where the tide pulled hardest, where the fish were most plentiful. And also where the wrecks were.

“You’ll need to mark this entrance into the lagoon with buoys. And since it’s illegal to drop anchor on the reef itself to protect the corals, I’d recommend keeping bigger boats out beyond the reef and using smaller boats to get in close. You could build a mooring for them in one of the coves close to the lagoon.”

Kenzie pulled a notebook and pen from a side pocket of her rucksack and began scribbling notes.

Rik circled the island to a cove that was deep enough to get them in close to the shore. Kenzie sat up straighter, her gaze fixed on the sandy beach.

He dropped the anchor and furled the sails. “I’ll show you a bay later that I’d recommend for a pier. Since the locals won’t come here, you’ll need to bring your own labour and your own boat crews.”

She nodded. “There’ll be a lot of extra costs, but my producer wasn’t too fazed when I spoke to him last night. The tax benefits the mayor agreed to probably helped.” She grinned. “And he was probably so stunned I’d actually got permission for us to film here. Neil never expected me to get this far.”

“What is it with you and your boss?”

She shrugged, looking away. “Like everyone else, he underestimated me. Let’s get going, shall we?”

He dropped the dinghy over the side, climbed down the swimming ladder, then turned to help Kenzie, allowing his hands to linger on her waist as he lifted her down. The buzz between them was as delicious as he remembered.

She flicked a glance up at him, her big blue eyes wide and startled beneath the long, pale eyelashes. “You can let me go now.”

“What if I don’t want to?” he teased, enjoying her blush. Kenzie Cole made him want to do bad, bad things. He was going to enjoy exacting his payment from her.

He withdrew his hands and bent down to fire up the outboard motor. There was no need to hurry this. Seduction was better taken slowly. And by the time he got what he wanted from her, Kenzie would be begging for him to take it.

But for a moment, a sense of disquiet unnerved him. The images he’d pictured in that brief moment of contact were not the sort of things he’d contemplated doing with any other woman before. Kenzie definitely had something he wanted. And with each passing day he seemed to want it more. With the kind of passion he didn’t trust and didn’t want.

When the dinghy slid up onto the hot white sand, she jumped out as if she couldn’t get away fast enough. But she wasn’t looking at him. The blush was gone, but her face was still flushed, her eyes alight now with excitement. A purely professional excitement.

By the time he’d pulled the dinghy above the high tide line, she’d already started snapping photographs, a panoramic view of the bay.

Then she began jotting notes in her book. “What’s the name of this bay?” she called over her shoulder.

“It doesn’t have a name. We’re modern day explorers. You can call it whatever you like.”

She grinned. “I think I’ll call it the Bay of Hope, then.”

“Esperanza,” he suggested, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He’d been to Tortuga several times over the last few months and hope was the one thing he hadn’t found here.

Once she’d taken her pictures and made her notes, they picked their way through the scrubby brush to reach the neighbouring bay.

A couple of hours later and Rik was starting to feel the effects of the midday heat. He sat on the sand in the shade of a Royal Poinciana tree and pulled water bottles and sandwich packets out of his rucksack.

“You need a break,” he called to Kenzie.

He had to admire her tenacity. She was not as fragile as she appeared. She’d kept up a rigorous pace as they hiked from bay to bay and still looked fresh as a flower, if a little flushed. Her hair clung damply to her neck and forehead, curling slightly in the heat. She flopped down beside him, gratefully accepted the bottle of water, and began to fan herself with her hat.

“You’re getting pink,” he observed.

“I know. It’s such a pain being this fair. I’m going to be horribly freckled when I get back to England.”

“It’s cute.”

She wrinkled her nose. “
Cute
is not the look I was going for.” She looked down the beach and sighed, a deep-throated purr of pleasure. “A couple of days ago I didn’t much like the Caribbean. I think I’m changing my mind. Everything seems more here. More colourful, more tasty, more aromatic.”

“More arousing.” He flashed a quick sidelong glance at her and grinned.

Although he hadn’t found these islands particularly arousing before Kenzie had walked into that beach bar.

She stretched out on the sand beside him, rolling onto her back to look up into the tangerine-coloured canopy above. “I think the sorcerer’s curse was really a blessing. I’m sure there aren’t many unspoilt places like this left in the world. I almost don’t want to bring the film crew here.”

“But you will.”

“I have to. It’s my job.”

“There are other places, other islands.”

“Yes, but there’s something special about these islands. Perhaps it’s that virgin territory thing. There’s never been a big film shoot here before, so I’ll be the first to discover it. I can put this place on the map.”

“What if it doesn’t want to be on any map?”

“Ask the mayor if he agrees with that. Films don’t just bring business in the short-term. They bring exposure, which brings tourists. And more tourists means more money and more jobs.”

“So is that why you chose to become a location scout. Out of philanthropy?”

She laughed. “No, and if you ask my parents they’ll tell you it was a very selfish choice. I became a location scout because it’s never boring. Every day is different. Every film shoot is different. I’ve scouted grand houses and farm cottages, cities and open countryside. And I’ve met all sorts of interesting people. Like you.” Her eyes lit up with a cheeky amusement as she looked at him. “And it’s a challenge. It’s a whole lot more than just taking pictures. You have to understand what the director wants, the angles and lenses he wants to use. And you need to know the production logistics too, and be a people person.” She rolled up onto her elbow to look at him. “Besides, I think if I had to work in an office, doing the same thing every day, I’d go insane.”

He used to work in an office, and he missed it. From the day he’d returned home from university, his father had given him his own office in the palace at Neustadt, and he’d assumed many of the duties and responsibilities that had been his father’s. He’d never once thought of what he might be missing beyond the palace walls. And he’d never wanted to be anywhere else.

He’d devoted himself to his country and his people, and what had he got in return? Exile.

All because of a routine DNA test.

In spite of everything, he still didn’t want to be anywhere else. He’d rather be there in his high-ceilinged office in the palace than here in paradise.

But there was no going back now. Not even for Max’s engagement party.

Kenzie tossed the empty sandwich packets and water bottles into the rucksack and jumped up. “Let’s get going. We’ve barely covered half the island. At this rate we’ll have to come back tomorrow.”

At this rate he was going to need something to keep up with her … and it certainly wasn’t those little blue pills. He pushed himself to his feet, in no hurry to get moving.

No, there was no going back. But for the first time in months, he wanted to move forward. He looked forward to tomorrow.

@KenzieCole101: I scaled mountains today – and have the pictures to prove it!

@LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 Knew you could do it! Crack open that minibar to celebrate.

@LeeHill: @KenzieCole101 PS: Simba sends his love. He misses you.

@KenzieCole101: @LeeHill Scratch him behind his ears for me

Kenzie arrived back in Los Pajaros more tired, more dusty and more freckled than she’d felt any other day she’d been here. They’d barely managed to explore half the bays and beaches of Tortuga before the sun began to dip and they’d headed home. But she had enough to make the director salivate, she was sure of that.

Tomorrow Rik would take her back so they could scout the island’s forested interior for the remaining locations on her list.

It had been a good day. No, it had been a great day.

She didn’t need a drink tonight with the same desperation as the night she’d met Rik, but she wanted to celebrate and once again the minibar in her room wasn’t going to cut it.

So as Rik handed her across the gap between boat and dock, she glanced up at him, feeling oddly shy. “Would you like a drink before you go?”

His answering grin definitely wasn’t shy. It was downright cocky, reminding her for a sickening moment of Charlie’s lopsided smile, and for half a second she regretted asking. “I’ve got a better idea. Join me for dinner.”

It wasn’t a question, she noticed. But her hackles no longer took the bait. Perhaps having spent a day in his presence she’d become immune to that commanding tone.

However, she definitely hadn’t grown immune to what he did to all the other parts of her body. Rik may have played the gentleman rather than the bad boy all day, but his tiny, fleeting touches were driving her insane. A hand on her elbow to help her over a log, a brush of her brow to wipe away a smudge …  though she was pretty sure he’d made that last one up.

It was those less immune parts that started an excited jig at the thought of not having to call it quits on this day just yet.

But dinner? That was a far bigger commitment than a drink at the beach bar. And dinner with a devastating bad boy could lead to very bad places, as she knew from bitter experience. Still, she wasn’t that girl any more. She could handle a civilised, platonic meal out without losing all self-respect.

“We have an early start tomorrow,” she said, clinging to common sense but knowing it was a battle she was about to lose.

“You’ll still get your precious eight hours,” he teased.

And there it came, her impulsive heart over-ruling her oh-so-sensible brain. “Okay, I’d love dinner. The resort has a really good haute cuisine restaurant.”

“No, not the resort. There’s a seafood place in town I think you’ll enjoy.”

No, no, no, no. She was rapidly losing control here. She grabbed at the last lifeline she could find. “But you didn’t bring a car.”

“We’ll go by boat.” Then incorrectly interpreting the quick flash of panic across her face: “That first night was a one off. I won’t get drunk again and I’ll get you back here in one piece.”

It wasn’t his sailing ability she didn’t trust. She’d had plenty of opportunity today to watch him work. He might not talk much, but he seemed very competent. What she didn’t trust were her own instincts and her own ability to resist temptation. Three times she’d already got it very, very wrong, and no-one ever said ‘Fourth time’s the charm.’

And in the dark, with the moonlight and the roll of the ocean … 

She sent up a swift prayer to the gods to protect what was left of her heart, and nodded. “I’ll need to upload my photos and send them to London before we leave, though.” And she needed a shower. And she wondered if the resort boutique would still be open. “I’ll meet you back here in an hour?”

She hoped she hadn’t just made a terrible mistake agreeing to dinner.

She got back to the boat an hour and a half later, flustered, out of breath, her hair already escaping from its ponytail.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, instinctively taking the hand Rik held out to her and instantly regretting it. “Neil called to talk through what I’d sent him and I couldn’t get rid of him.”

Not that she’d wanted to. It was really nice to hear the words “well done, good job”. It had put her on such a high she hadn’t bothered to return her mother’s call. The inevitable disappointment in
that
conversation would definitely have killed her buzz.

Rik still had hold of her hand. “Look at that – you’re a girl!” His voice sounded indifferent, but his eyes were anything but.

She pretended a frown. “Of course I’m a girl.”

“I thought you didn’t own a dress?”

She waved a hand, dismissing the question and hoping her blush didn’t give her away. “I found this old thing in the bottom of the suitcase,” she lied.

The hotel’s boutique had still been open, and this short cocktail dress in a soft, clingy midnight blue had been an easy choice. It reminded her of Rik’s eyes, so dark a shade of blue they were almost black. The dress was too posh to go with the espadrilles but she didn’t want to look like she’d made too much effort.

Though the fact she was wearing make-up for the first time in months would have tipped off anyone who knew her.

Rik settled himself behind the wheel, and she took her now familiar spot on the cushioned bench beside him. The dress rode up her thighs, and she had to sit uncomfortably upright to keep her modesty. Perhaps she should have stuck with cargo pants after all.

This time Rik kept the sails furled and used the engine. They headed out to sea, but instead of turning left towards Fredrikshafen, he turned the boat right.

“Isn’t town the other way?” she asked.

“If you’re a tourist. The locals prefer the smaller fishing town of Christianstad on the other side of the island. The restaurants there aren’t priced for the day visitors from the cruise ships.” He grinned. “Are you up for a little adventure?”

“Always.” Though now she really wished she’d stuck with cargo pants and a tee shirt.

The boat hugged the shoreline and she was able to appreciate the wild beauty of the island in the evening light. She’d been so focussed on finding the locations listed on the detailed location brief she’d been given that she’d nearly missed the magic which was right under her nose.

On the horizon, the sun was a ball of fire, staining the sea crimson. As it sank, both sea and sky faded to vivid pinks and oranges, growing darker and darker until the light was gone, leaving nothing but a flash of green light so fast she wondered if she’d imagined it. Then the velvet darkness wrapped around them.

No lingering sunsets here in the tropics. It was all or nothing.

“Wow, that was incredible.” She breathed out, her voice barely above a whisper, afraid she might break the magic spell.

“The sunsets are more spectacular in the winter months. There’s too much haze in the air in summer.” Rik turned the boat into an inlet between two high outcrops of land, mere shadows against the night sky.

In the apex of the bay, pinpricks of light bloomed out of the darkness as they drew nearer, turning into a jumble of single-storey houses. This was definitely not Fredrikshafen, with its massive modern marina, stylish boutiques and bright lights. The pier where Rik moored his boat consisted of rickety planks, lit only by swaying lanterns, and theirs was the only yacht amongst the fishing skiffs and dories.

“I guarantee this is the best meal you’ll eat in all the islands.” He took her hand as they walked down the pier.

She hoped so. She was starving. Those sandwiches they’d shared on the beach at Tortuga seemed light years away.

The restaurant was little more than a thatched bar, open to the elements on all sides, with mismatched tables and chairs set out on a wooden deck overhanging the sea. A few locals in work-roughened clothes sat at the bar, and the only occupants of the deck were a handful of young men in gaudy shirts and board shorts drinking beers.

“Instructors from the local scuba school,” Rik said, following her gaze.

The instructors waved and the locals at the bar greeted him in a language she didn’t recognise. Kenzie wondered if they knew who he really was – or at least who he had been. Their looks held respect, but none of the awe the mayor seemed to hold him in.

Rik let go of her hand to return their greetings, and she instantly felt the loss of the contact. Then he placed his hand on her lower back to direct her onto the deck. Familiar, slow heat radiated out from his touch.

The kind of heat that made that oh-so-sensible brain of hers reel.

She hadn’t known until now how much she missed human contact. Cuddling Lee’s cat was all well and fine but it didn’t come close to the heart-thumping touch of a gorgeous man.

Rik chose a table right on the very edge of the deck, away from the others, where a light breeze rolled in off the sea, smelling of adventure and anticipation.

A beaming waiter appeared at their side. “Welcome back, Mr Rik.”

“Hello Juan.”

Juan lit the candles on the table, covering them with sawn-off plastic bottles to keep the lively breeze from extinguishing them.

There were no menus, just a chalkboard listing the day’s catch. The array of cocktails however, painted in bright-coloured lettering on a board over the bar, was impressive.

“What would you like?” Rik asked.

“A mojito.” It was her favourite cocktail, but here, beneath the star-spangled velvet sky, seemed a far better place to enjoy one than in a densely packed London club. She sighed and stretched back in her seat, allowing contentment and the lazy tropical heat to seep into her limbs.

“Make that two.”

When Juan left, she couldn’t resist teasing: “No rum and cola tonight?”

Rik pulled a face. “I’ll be happy never to taste it again. I made a fool of myself the other night, and I apologise. I offer you my thanks for assisting me.”

Now he sounded like a prince. She shrugged. “It’s what anyone would have done.”

“No, not anyone.”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m just a sucker for trouble.” That’s what following one’s instincts tended to do for a girl. She glanced back at the bar. “So what was the special occasion you were celebrating the other night?”

He was silent for so long she was almost sure he wasn’t going to answer.

“It was my birthday.”

And he’d been alone.

Her heart squeezed tight, and the evening air filled with the sounds of voices from the bar and the breakers crashing on rocks below their deck.

“I’m sorry,” she managed at last. She looked quickly away again. “This isn’t the sort of place I’d have thought you’d visit.” She bit her lip. She wasn’t supposed to know who he was. Wasn’t supposed to care either.

“Oh? What sort of place do you think I belong?” he asked. The mocking tone was back.

“You drive a Lamborghini and own a yacht. I’d have thought you’d be five star luxury all the way.”

“I hope I haven’t disappointed you?” He was definitely mocking her.

“Not at all. I’m done with trust fund babies. My best friend Lee and I have sworn that from now on we’re only dating men who have real jobs and earn their money the old-fashioned way.”

Rik grinned. “Sounds dull. I’d have expected something more adventurous from you. Besides, some would say inheriting it
is
the old-fashioned way.”

She scowled. “You know what I mean.”

“Then you’ll be pleased to know that neither the Lamborghini nor the yacht are mine. They belong to a friend who’s kindly letting me stay in his guesthouse.”

“Very pleased.” She gave up trying to secure the paper napkin in her lap and instead wedged it under the cutlery.

Still didn’t mean she was going to let the setting or the man get to her head. Just because he didn’t own the bling didn’t mean he was a regular Joe with a job. She’d bet her beloved camera that, deposed or not, the former prince had a trust fund. He certainly had all the arrogance that went with it, though he didn’t look particularly arrogant right now. Sobriety suited Rik. He seemed a whole lot happier today. No, maybe not happy. There was a constant brooding darkness in his eyes, and he never truly relaxed, but at least he was smiling more today.

Juan delivered their mojitos along with a platter of pieces of pale white meat on a bed of lettuce.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“It’s raw conch marinated in lime juice, a local delicacy.”

“Aren’t conches shells?”

“Shellfish. You’re not allergic?”

She shook her head. “I can eat anything. Once.” She took a fortifying sip of her mojito first. Yum. Definitely better than any she’d had before. Then she stuck her fork into a piece of conch, closed her eyes and tasted.

An explosion of flavour hit her tongue. The conch was chewy, a little like calamari, but full of subtle flavours. “Wow! It’s almost better than sex.”

He grinned. “Then you obviously haven’t been having the right kind of sex.”

“I said almost.”

“You’re not sorry I brought you here?”

No. Not sorry he’d brought her to this restaurant and not sorry she’d agreed to dinner. This was way better than room service alone in a bland hotel room. And the mojito was way better than those over-priced little bottles of wine in the minibar.

Rik sipped his drink, his expression becoming pained. “This reminds me of something … ” He swallowed. “Oh god! It tastes just like your concierge’s hangover remedy.” He pushed the glass towards her. “Another drink I may never be able to face again.”

Someone fired up a barbecue, and the sizzling aroma of grilling fish filled the air. Kenzie’s stomach started doing flick-flacks.

Rik lazed back in his chair. “So tell me about this man who’s put you off trust funds.”

“It’s not just one man. Actually it’s probably not any men at all. It’s me. I have a tendency to go out with guys who are completely self-absorbed.”

Brett, aka Bad Boy Number Three hadn’t been a trust fund baby. But he hadn’t been a steady job kind of guy either. He’d been a musician, very talented but useless when it came to things like showing up on time or paying bills. She’d ended up supporting him. And bailing him out.