by Julie Cannon
“Sorry, went somewhere else there for a minute.”
“Wherever it was, by the look on your face I’d like to go with you.”
“You were,” I said simply, still watching the churn of the water from the powerful propellers. The sun setting in the distance.
“That’s a pleasant thought.”
“Pleasant doesn’t even begin to describe it,” I said, hip-bumping her.
“Don’t do that,” Bert said, stifling a moan. “I have work to do.”
“You’ve never gone to work all hot and bothered to the point that you couldn’t think straight?”
“Not before we rescued your cute little ass. Have you?”
A very unwanted image of Ariel and me on my desk flashed in my brain. I shook my head to get it out.
“That bad?”
“Not at the time,” I admitted. Ariel had been an exquisite, attentive lover.
“The million-dollar girlfriend?”
I could say no and I might not have to talk about Ariel, or I could say yes and still might not have to talk about her.
“I refer to it as the million-dollar fuck.”
“Ouch,” Bert replied. “But then again, I’ve never experienced anything like that, thank God.”
“Yeah, well, the only person I wish that on is Ariel herself,” I said. “You know, her name wasn’t even Ariel? It’s Cindy Howard. How imaginative is that?”
“Maybe she wanted something more out of life.”
“Yeah, my money,” I said with more than a little bad taste in my mouth.
“Did she ever apologize,” Bert asked.
I’d never been asked that question, but then again only a handful of people knew about my situation.
“Ariel? No way. Till the day she was sentenced, and even at her last parole hearing, she claimed I gave her the money. We were in love, I gave her everything because I loved her, blah, blah, bullshit,” I said in my fake Ariel voice.
“Did you?”
“Yes.”
“Do you?”
“No. It stopped the minute after the two FBI agents walked into my office.”
“Wanna tell me about it?”
For some reason I did, so I started at the beginning and ended with why I was on my boat after the parole hearing.
“Wow,” Bert said. “Sucked to be you.”
“You can say that again,” I said, scrunching my face.
“I would, but I’d rather suck you again.”
Even though my heart was racing and my breathing had picked up, I slowly turned my head to face her. “I won’t argue with that,” I said and walked toward the stairs, thrilled at the knowledge that Bert would follow me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bert
I had docked the Dream hundreds of times, but this time I was anxious and nervous. Anxious because Alissa would be going home today, nervous because I didn’t know what we were going to say to each other before she did.
We hadn’t slept at all last night. We’d practically run to my cabin after dinner, the sound of catcalls and good-natured hoots from my crew, the peanut gallery, following us. We’d stopped pretending that nothing was going on when they’d stopped pretending they didn’t see what was going on.
Alissa shrieked as I tossed her on the bed and started pulling off her clothes. I swear it was less than five minutes before we were both falling down the mountain of ecstasy we’d climbed together.
We always did it fast the first time. It was like we had so much pent-up desire it just exploded when we touched. I tried to slow down, but Alissa wouldn’t let me. After that first time we didn’t rush, but it felt like there was never enough time.
We knew this would end. When the Dream docked and the crew disembarked, Alissa would go with them. I wasn’t relationship material, and Alissa was too gun-shy from that cunt Ariel. Who would blame her?
I scanned the dock, and in addition to Hook and Rock’s families, I saw a man and woman I’d never seen. They definitely didn’t belong here, in their upscale clothes and accompanying dark Town Car. They had to be Marie and Mark from Alissa’s agency. Alissa had told me they’d insisted on meeting the boat, and she’d told them not to. I hoped they listened better about work things because obviously they hadn’t listened to her about this.
Alissa was holding the starboard-side tether rope, ready to toss it to the dockhand. Her hat was pulled down low on her head, her ponytail out the hole in the back blowing in the late-afternoon breeze. Her arms were a wonderful shade of tan, in direct contrast to the paleness of the rest of her body. My crotch throbbed at that vision.
She stood with her legs apart, swaying with the motion of the boat as we pulled closer. The entire image was perfect and she was simply stunning, or breathtaking, or whatever word ever invented to describe what I was seeing.
The man and woman were jumping up and down, waving their arms. Obviously they were trying to get Alissa’s attention. Ever the loyal crewmember, she ignored them and focused on her task.
*
Alissa
In a few hours I’d be off this boat, my feet firmly back in my life. Back in my own house, my own clothes, my own job, and my own bed. They all sounded wonderful, but I wasn’t as excited as I expected to be.
I’d thought a lot about this as we moved closer to this day, this moment. When I should have been getting more excited as the miles shortened, I wasn’t. I wasn’t looking forward to the things that made up my life. Traffic, unreasonable client demands, and those that thought just because my name was on the letterhead they owned me. The idea of hose and heels didn’t appeal to me in the slightest, even if they did make my legs look fabulous. Meetings, endless phone calls, and airport security lines loomed like a big black hole. I’d probably lose my tan in a week, and my allergies to soot and bad air would kick in. Dinner parties, schmoozing, and being constantly on the lookout for new clients now seemed like, at worst, prostitution, or an endless bad movie at best. I wasn’t sure which.
What had gotten into me? That was my life. I loved my life and everything about it, including those two clowns jumping up and down and waving on the dock. They reminded me of a scene in a war movie where the sailors returned after months at sea. Good grief, I’d only been gone for a few weeks and had talked to both of those goofballs twice a week. Sometimes that was more than we spoke when we were in the same office.
Shaking off my thoughts, I tossed my line to the dockhand, who secured it to the cleat bolted to the dock. When all was secure I signaled as much to Bert on the bridge. The late-afternoon sun reflected off the glass, but I was too far away to see her even if it hadn’t been almost blinding me. Two blasts from the ship’s air horn signaled we were secure aft and stern. One more thing checked off the end-of-trip list, one less thing to do before I had to leave.
I waved at Maria and Mark to get them to stop acting like fools and because I finally admitted I was glad to see them. They were the constant in my life, and after the past weeks I needed it. Finally they settled down.
“Friends of yours?” Hook asked carefully. He probably thought one of them was my girlfriend and didn’t want to step into something ugly. I told him otherwise. “They work for me. The redhead is my assistant, the guy my main client manager.”
“They sure are glad to see you,” he said, stating the obvious.
“Well, to them this has been a nightmare.”
“And to you?”
“A once-in-a-lifetime experience,” I answered, looking toward the bridge.
*
Alissa
I couldn’t stall any longer. Everyone had departed, but I knew Bert was still on board—captain last one off the ship and all that. I felt guilty hanging around, thus keeping her on board, but I couldn’t seem to get out of this cabin.
Her cabin. Our cabin. I looked around with a different eye than I’d had the first time I saw it. But then again I was a very different person. I’d been waterlogged, exhausted, and disoriented. This room and all
it symbolized, including its occupant, had saved my life. Weeks later I was warm, dry, and full of experiences I’d never imagined. And leaving a woman I’d never thought I’d meet and would never forget.
Bert was nothing like the women I was usually attracted to, and I knew I’d never find anyone like her again. But that was okay because I wasn’t looking. I could get great sex just about anywhere—okay, maybe not anywhere, but I could get what I needed when I needed it. I wasn’t looking or even slightly interested in anything other than good conversation and an enjoyable time in bed. There was never a short supply of either, but my first priority was always Alissa Cooper Advertising. It always had been, and as long as my name was on the front door, it always would be. These past weeks were just a pause in that life.
After a light knock on the door, Bert walked in. Her hair was longer than the first day I saw her, her skin darker, and her eyes more troubled.
“Hey,” she said, her voice husky.
“Hey.” As I mimicked her, I cursed myself for not leaving earlier, when other people were around and it wouldn’t have been this awkward. Who was I kidding? It would have been awkward regardless of who was around. The only positive thing about this scenario was at least I would get to kiss her good-bye one last time.
We’d said our good-byes all night without speaking a word, and when she’d kissed me tenderly before leaving the cabin this morning, I knew that kiss would be the last. It was soft, sweet, and poignant.
“Got all your things?”
My laugh sounded strained in the small space. “All my things are yours,” I pointed out.
“You can keep them,” she said, her smile forced.
“I’ll just keep these,” I said, plucking at the shirt and shorts I was wearing. “Either that or I walk off this boat the same way I came on—stark naked.”
I realized what I’d said when Bert’s eyes flashed. She moved toward me as if she couldn’t stop herself.
“You might not want that, but I wouldn’t complain,” she said. That phrase was our go-to phrase because we said it a lot. It was our way of keeping things light when a comment or situation or question threatened to become too serious.
“You’re such a dog,” I said, trying to be playful in an otherwise intense situation. An image of the two of us in one specific and very fulfilling sexual position flashed through my head. It was suddenly very hot in the cabin.
“Well, I’d better go so you can get home.” I gave her my best mock salute. “Permission to go ashore, Captain?”
Bert studied me for what felt like a lifetime. Her gaze never left my face, alternating between my eyes and my lips. I thought she was going to kiss me. I hoped she was going to kiss me. I prayed she’d kiss me. Instead, she stepped to the side so I could pass.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Bert
“God damn it to hell, motherfucker! Shit, that hurts!”
“It’s true, sailors are quite imaginative with swear words.”
My head hit the dash when Alissa’s voice startled me. The stars that flashed in my head had to be from the knuckle I’d just smashed against the pipe or the concussion I just gave myself. It certainly couldn’t be because Alissa was standing beside me for the first time in two months.
I slid out of the tight space I’d been working in and sat up. I stared at her perfectly polished toes, then gazed up her long, tan legs to short shorts and a tight T-shirt, past long strong arms, nibbleable neck, over lush, wet lips, and finally into bright, yet uncertain, eyes.
“Hey,” I said, our standard greeting.
“Hey yourself,” came the expected reply. “Am I interrupting?”
God. Her voice sounded better than I remembered and certainly better than it did in my dreams.
“Yes, but nothing that can’t wait,” I said, getting to my feet. I was a little dizzy, but that was probably due to getting up too fast.
“Permission to come aboard,” Alissa asked, seeming nervous.
I didn’t hesitate. “Absolutely.” I didn’t think the time was right to remind her that I’d never granted her permission to go ashore that day weeks ago. When she’d asked I hadn’t said yes, but I hadn’t said no either. Stepping aside like I had was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I left it for Alissa to decide. And she had, loud and clear.
“What are you working on?” Alissa asked, looking at my tools and assorted nuts and bolts on the floor.
“Trying to wire new speakers.”
“How’d the overhaul go?”
“No surprises, thank God.” I wiped my hands on a rag. Alissa took a few steps closer and rubbed her hand over the captain’s chair. “Have a seat,” I said, finally remembering my manners. That’s about all I remembered since hearing her voice.
“How was the catch?”
“One of the best.” I couldn’t help but smile remembering how good it felt to endorse the largest check I’d ever received. No ATM deposit for me. I went to the bank and handed it to the teller. I wanted no doubt where that money was going.
“How is Alissa Cooper Advertising?” I asked, since it was obvious we were staying on safe topics.
“Didn’t fall down while I was gone.”
“Good to know. You were worried about that.”
“What’s so surprising…” She ran her fingers over the dials on the dash in front of her. “I didn’t even think about it most of the time.”
“Is that a good or a bad thing?”
“Well, considering AC didn’t crash and burn, it showed me I can get away and not work twenty-four seven.”
“Also good to know.” I wanted to stop all this chitchat and ask her why she’d come.
She’d called a few days after we docked, our conversation stilted and awkward, just like this one. We’d connected twice after that with the same result. If I’d had any thought we could continue something, those conversations proved we had nothing in common.
Her back was to me, so I could look at her as much as I wanted. She was a little thinner than I remembered, her back a little straighter. God, I missed her.
She turned to look at me. “I got a new boat.” Her eyes were sparkling with excitement.
“Wonderful. What did you get?”
“Same as I had, just a year newer.”
“I’m glad it all worked out for you.”
“It was a royal pain the ass, but I finally got it settled.”
The long stretch of silence was clear that we still didn’t have anything else to say. Before, we’d always talked about something. If it wasn’t boat-related, it was politics, the war on terror, or the pros and cons of nuclear power. We agreed on most things, but when we didn’t, we agreed to disagree after a sometimes lengthy, spirited debate.
I struggled for a topic to keep Alissa right where she was. I’ve always been a pretty good conversationalist, and an even better bull-shitter, but my mind was blank. We didn’t catch up like people do after not seeing each other for a while. No reminiscing about the things we did together. No strolling down memory lane, taking a detour to the time you took me right here on the bridge, or when we somehow made each other come in my too-small shower, or the quickie in the engine room when Lefty went to get a larger wrench. We couldn’t even seem to talk about the poker game that lasted all night until Hook had all of our chits. Or how we laughed so hard during a game of Pictionary I thought Rock might hyperventilate. We would never go down that road where we looked into each other’s eyes as pleasure rocked us to our core. No, obviously not. I fought back a wave of disappointment that threatened to overwhelm me.
“I promised you a ride on my boat,” Alissa said, and I watched in fascination as she pulled herself together.
“You did.” It wasn’t a promise but an invitation said in passing.
“You free Saturday?”
If I wasn’t, I was now. “Yes.”
“The weather should be good.”
“Should be.” God, was I the queen of stupid comments or what?
&nb
sp; “Would you like to take her out with me?” Alissa asked formally.
“I’d love to,” I said, equally stiff.
“Eight o’clock?”
“Perfect.”
“I’m in pier twenty-one, slip fourteen.”
“I’ll be there.” That was a complete no-brainer.
Alissa looked like she was just about to say something else but instead looked around the bridge. She finally said, “Okay, see you then.”
“What do I bring?” I asked, due to my mother’s manners lessons.
“Not a thing, just yourself. I have everything we need.”
We said our polite good-byes, and I watched her walk off the bridge. My heart was pounding, my pulse racing, and my hands were still shaking when I finally went back to work.
*
Alissa
I don’t know what was more difficult, going to see Bert again or walking away from her—again. God, she looked good, better than good. She looked fabulous. Her eyes were just as green and piercing, especially when she looked at me.
I had debated endlessly with myself about seeing her again. One day I was certain I’d put her in that place I put previous lovers, the next I was driving to the pier only to turn around before I rounded the last corner. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t bring myself to make that last few hundred yards until today. These past two months had been a mix of joy, reflection, despair, and everything in between.
The first week back at work was filled with mail, messages, and meetings. Everyone wanted to know the story from beginning to end, and of course they all asked at different times. Clients who knew I’d been out subtly or blatantly asked where I was, which caused more conversation. I certainly wasn’t going to tell anyone what happened between Bert and me so I made up some story and just wished they’d stop asking. Good God, it wasn’t like I was shipwrecked for years like Tom Hanks in Castaway.
The adjustment of being back in my house was surprisingly difficult. For some reason it just felt odd to sit in my spacious living room, in my kitchen that was enormous compared to Lefty’s. My house was so much larger than I’d been used to for the weeks I was on the Dream that I felt like I was swimming in it—no pun intended. Everything seem oversized, too big and too quiet.
