by Nikki Logan
She sketched out the preliminary outline of a story and jotted down some research ideas. That neatly took care of … oh … minutes.
‘Ugh.’ She threw herself backwards and stared again at the offending ceiling. Had they not painted this vessel at all since it was commissioned?
Hayden was responsible for this off-balance mental mess. His incendiary kiss. It had been as unexpected as the giraffe. Though, like the giraffe, once discovered, it was a hard thing to put out of your mind. She’d had to work hard out there on the deck not to keep staring at his mouth. Remembering.
No doubt Caryn the zookeeper would be discovering it very soon.
She’d never met anyone as cynical and miserable as Hayden. That he believed love was a challenge you negotiated rather than something that just struck you … And that he thought it so pathetic that she believed otherwise. That he developed plans for big businesses to better exploit the community.
That was not the boy she’d hidden in the shadows to watch.
The man he’d become might have a full bank account but his moral account was sadly lacking.
Judging him made her feel vaguely better about letting him kiss her.
She forced herself up, back to her laptop, back to the outline of the story she could feel burbling, and verbalised it to tell herself she really meant it.
‘Enough.’
A knock at the door ripped her out of the concentrated place where she’d lost time.
‘Shirley? It’s Hayden.’
Seriously? Could the man not amuse himself for an hour? She had that thought even as her chest tightened around the anticipation. She hit ‘save’ on her work, stood and yanked the door open. ‘Yes?’
He stood there, casually but gorgeously dressed. A clean shirt and well-fitting trousers. Shaved, even. And smelling pretty much like ambrosia.
‘Are you coming up for dinner?’ he said. ‘I thought we were meeting up there?’
She blinked. Half at his appearance and half at what him being showered and shaved meant. ‘Now?’
‘It’s past seven.’
‘Right!’ How many hours had she lost in her story? That was always a good sign for an engrossing read but not great for saving face in front of Hayden. ‘Coming.’
Every instinct called her to put on Shiloh’s face—eyes, lips, pallor, carefully chaotic hair—because she’d be meeting strangers, but she remembered her commitment to Hayden and she was determined not to be the one to break faith. On principle. She slipped on her shoes and untwisted the elastic holding her hair back. Sea or not, if tumbling masses were good enough for Caryn …
She raked her fingers through the waves to give it body and then smiled at Hayden. ‘Sorry. Let’s go.’
Mistake number one.
The wind conditions buried below deck—or even behind a wall of sea containers—and the wind conditions at the top of a freighter were not the same thing. Immediately her hair whipped like silken razors around her face in the gusts, tangling and flying. She wrangled it down as best she could and twisted it in her hold until they reached the outer door of the Paxos’s galley. Hayden held the door for her from outside and she stepped through.
Six people turned to look at her—five crew and one zookeeper.
Awesome. Nothing like a subtle entrance.
She blew loose strands from her sea-whipped face and plastered on a smile. ‘Sorry I’m late, everyone. I got absorbed in my work.’
She summed up the seating arrangement at a glance. Two empty seats on opposite sides of the table and the one next to Caryn had a half-drunk bottle of Hayden’s favourite non-alcoholic beverage in front of it.
Okay …
She moved towards the second vacancy, flanked by the ship’s crew.
Introductions were brief, given most of the crew spoke only Greek, but a man she hadn’t yet met had good English and proved himself an admirable translator. He was the Paxos’s Captain. Just as Greek as the rest of them, just as old and weathered, but somehow more … striking.
Or maybe it was just the uniform.
Hayden sank back into his seat next to Caryn, who immediately drew him back into conversation.
As dinners went, it wasn’t the worst she’d had. The food was unexpectedly good and the mood at the table was genial. In fact, the buzz of tension between her and Hayden was the only thing marring it. He glanced up often, inspired by the booming laugh of Captain Konstantinos or the smiles of the crew, or to frown at something one of them said to the other in Greek. And she did her best to follow along between sips of Australian wine. Caryn was outstripping her in that regard, putting away two glasses to her one.
The wine brought immediate colour to Shirley’s cheeks in a Mrs Claus way rather than the appealing slash of colour up the jaw like it did on the vivacious blonde.
Typical.
Caryn talked and Hayden listened, apparently rapt, and responded on cue. Brief but sufficient. She was certainly doing all the talking in that little relationship. But then Caryn’s conversation was not what he was interested in. Fortunately, it looked as if she was equally prepared to let body language do the real talking. She turned three-quarters in to him and leaned forward to brush or touch him, a lot.
Eventually the night and the meal drew to a close and the crew retired to their bunks or to their shifts. Shirley stood as the man next to her did and smiled at him. ‘Thank you, Captain. That was lovely.’
He murmured in Greek and then kissed her hand in a sweeping gesture and told her, in English, that the ship’s cook had something suitable for breakfast or lunch at any time they cared to visit the mess room but that everyone dined together nightly.
‘Tomorrow night, then,’ she said smiling.
Hayden stood and gave Caryn his arm to help her to her feet. ‘Tomorrow night, then,’ he echoed brightly.
Maybe if she’d had less wine under her belt Caryn wouldn’t have let the stab of confusion actually show on the outside, but Shirley saw it as Hayden turned to shake the Captain’s hand. She allowed a momentary pang of sisterhood sympathy; Hayden had given Caryn his undivided attention for over two hours now suddenly it was ‘goodnight’? She shot her a smile she hoped would be equal parts sympathetic and confederate.
Shirley moved to the door and Hayden crossed to stand behind her, reaching over her shoulder to push it open.
‘Batten down the hatches,’ he murmured as it gusted open.
The wind had picked up in the time they’d been in the warmth of the Captain’s table, so her hair immediately exploded into a tangle around her face. Hayden moved to her other side to help shield her from the worst of it, but all she could do was move as fast as possible back along the deck and down to the floor below where the cabins were, her arms curled around the billowing mess.
She practically fell through the door into the accommodation corridor and he tumbled in behind her. They occupied the few metres to their doors by exclaiming relief at the sudden drop of the elements and then they stood, facing each other, at their respective thresholds.
‘I’m coming in,’ Hayden announced.
She studied the trace of anger at the corners of his lips. But there was no point fighting it and, truth be told, nine o’clock was rather early to be going to bed, even for her. She opened her door and stood back to give him access and prepared for an onslaught.
‘Please, speak to me of something of consequence,’ he declared, tumbling like a felled tree onto the second little bed in her room.
The door hung open. It saved her mouth from having to similarly gape. She gently clicked it shut and released the handle. ‘You’ve had nothing but conversation all night.’
‘No.’ He slid his hands behind his head to replace the pillow she’d stolen to stack on top of her own. ‘I’ve had nothing but yammer all night.’
‘She was talking of her home. Her family. Things that were important to her.’
‘How could you hear through all the Greek on your side of the table?’
B
ecause she’d been motivated to eavesdrop. And because she’d always been a good lip-reader—a skill she’d perfected under the stairs. ‘It was a small table.’
‘Longest two hours of my life.’
‘That’s not fair. If you weren’t interested you could have changed the subject.’ By the moment, her loyalty was swinging back Caryn’s way. Poor woman. She spent all day in the company of a giraffe and he begrudged her a little verbal offload. ‘Or gone wild and contributed to the discussion a little.’
He snorted. ‘You think the conversation lacked momentum? She talked for two hours solid.’
‘It wasn’t a conversation. She was doing all the work and you just sat there being enigmatic and mysterious.’
‘I wasn’t striving for enigma. I was striving for polite.’
Oh, really? ‘Was it polite to skip out immediately the food was taken away?’
‘You were about to.’
‘I didn’t have an offer so clearly on the table.’ She balled her hands at her hips and glared down at him. Suddenly the flirtatious Caryn had taken on Everywoman status. And Hayden had assumed the wrongs of every man who had ever done womankind a bad turn.
He stared at her for heartbeats. She struggled to rein in the inexplicable heaving of her lungs.
‘I wish you could see yourself right now,’ he murmured, his eyes dark and keen.
Her hands immediately went to the disaster that was her hair and she hated that they’d acted of their own free will. It shouldn’t matter what she looked like. Kiss or no kiss.
‘Don’t,’ he warned. ‘You’ll ruin it.’
Her fingers paused a breath away from contact, trembled just slightly. ‘Ruin what?’
‘All that colour. All that chaos. It’s perfect.’
She dropped her hands. ‘You think windswept shambles is the right look for me?’
‘I think anything that brings life into your eyes is a good look. But that one particularly.’
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Why?’
He grinned and wriggled in more comfortably. ‘If I told you that, Shirley, you’d throw me out. So how about a new subject?’
A clamp tightened around her organs way down deep inside. ‘What if my conversation also fails to meet the rigid standards of Hayden Tennant?’
‘Impossible. You could speak of the weather and I’d find it interesting.’
She stood firm. ‘Shall we test that theory?’
The grin graduated into a full smile. ‘No. Let’s talk about the list. About how we’re going to get ourselves up to Queenstown.’
The list. That was safer, yes.
‘I don’t know.’ She shrugged. ‘It’s an adventure. Let’s just see how we go.’
She should know. Flying by the seat of her pants was not how Shiloh usually rolled. She really needed to start getting her mind around what would happen beyond the four days with Hayden.
‘And so we get there, jump, and then come back to port and these cabins? Seems rather a shame. New Zealand’s very beautiful. And romantic.’
‘We’re not going for the romance. We’re going for the adrenalin rush of leaping off a bridge.’
‘This doesn’t strike me as something Carol would have been into. Needlessly scaring herself witless.’
She sat on her own bed and tucked her legs up next to her. ‘I don’t think it’s about the fear; I think it’s about the sensation. The free fall. She might as easily have picked skydiving.’
‘I don’t see her as a sensation-seeker, either. She was so …’
Shirley lifted a brow. ‘Serious?’
He shook his head. ‘Cerebral.’
‘So bright people trade their right to feel for intelligence? You, of all people, think that?’
He looked up. ‘Why “of all people”?’
‘Because you’re the ultimate sensation-seeker. Or you were.’ The photos online showed that.
‘Are you saying you think I’m bright?’
She’d thought so once. As brilliant as a polished gem. ‘Don’t fish for compliments, Hayden. It belittles you.’
‘I’d like to know. I know you think I’m disparaging and mean-spirited and idle. It might help balance things out a little if I thought there was any positive in there at all.’
She hadn’t called him any of those things out loud so it must have leaked through in her attitude. Natural justice made her confess, ‘You were always brilliant, Hayden. And ten years hasn’t done anything to diminish that, it seems.’
He considered her. ‘For what it’s worth, the feeling is mutual.’
She tossed her hair back further from her face. ‘It’s worth nothing. I don’t care what you think of me.’
‘Oh, that’s clearly not true, or you wouldn’t be sitting here twitching to comb your hair.’
Again her fingers betrayed her. She curled them into her fist.
He didn’t miss it. His eyes darkened and grew sharp. ‘Ask me what I meant when I said this look particularly suits you.’
‘No. I don’t care what you meant.’ And the thump thump of her heart was a powerful motivator to silence.
‘Yes, you do. You’re just too scared to know.’
She glared at him silently.
‘I meant that you look like you’ve just crawled out of a particularly warm and sensual bed.’
Heat instantly returned to her cheeks.
‘There it is again. The splash of passion.’
Damn him. She tightened her fists. ‘If you’d wanted to play with someone’s emotions you should have stayed upstairs.’
‘Why can’t I just be commenting on fact? You’re usually so impeccably presented, so seeing you like this is … stimulating.’
‘You should have stayed upstairs for that, too.’
‘Are you trying to force me to go knocking on Caryn’s door?’
Tension cranked up her spine. ‘Actually, no, I don’t think she’s done anything to deserve the heartbreak you’d inevitably bring.’
One dark blond brow lifted. ‘Harsh words, Shirley. You doubt she would understand the concept of a one-night stand?’
‘I doubt she’d ever have conceived of what a one-night stand with a man like you might mean.’
The suavadore act dropped. Immediately. The air turned dangerous. ‘Meaning?’
Her heart thumped for a different reason then. But she’d started it … ‘Meaning it might not be enough for you just to have her and leave. You’d have to break her first.’
He stared. ‘“Break her”? Is that what you think?’
‘It’s what you do, Hayden. You take people apart. And you don’t always take care to reassemble them again.’
His jaw flexed. ‘Have I done that with you?’
He’d done it to year after year of idealistic students on Saturdays. ‘I won’t give you the chance,’ she vowed. ‘Ever.’
‘Forever’s a long time.’
‘Fortunately, I have outstanding discipline.’
His smile deepened. ‘Oh, yes, you do. But don’t you see what that is to a man like me?’
She watched him, critically aware that they were alone, in a room full of beds and not much else. And critically aware of what had happened between them the last time they were here. He twisted his body into a seated position, facing her. Closer.
‘It’s a red rag.’
She lifted her chin. ‘I still have free will.’
‘I think we’ve seen how far your free will got you, just this afternoon.’
‘I’m not interested in a one-night stand.’
His brow lifted. ‘You’d be interested in something longer?’
‘No, but that’s a moot point. You’d never want something longer.’
‘You think not?’
‘I know not. If you did you’d have shacked up with any one of those women years ago.’
‘What do you have against them? They were all perfectly nice women.’
‘Give me one single name.’
He blinked at
her.
‘Just one, Hayden. If they were so lovely.’ She waited. ‘I think there’s a reason you’re so sold on the idea of a love that’s intellectual, because it means you can explore the physical with no risk of attachment. Keep the two firmly separate.’ She stood. ‘But I’m not interested in being your intellectual intimate any more than your physical one.’
Liar!
His face hardened. ‘Why not?’
‘Because you’re too much like hard work. And too risky.’
Blue eyes narrowed. ‘What are you risking? Not your heart, which you’ve firmly stated is inviolate. And not your body, which you protect behind layers of sod-off. So what’s left?’
My soul.
‘Is this the conversation you were looking for when you came in here tonight?’ she gritted.
‘No. But maybe it was overdue. I certainly appreciate knowing how you really see me.’
Guilt niggled. ‘Hayden, I wouldn’t be here with you at all if I thought you were a horrible human being. You’re not. But you’re not someone that a woman should be backing, emotionally. Not once she gets to know you.’
He reeled back on the bed.
Then he stood. ‘Right.’
She stood behind him, stepped towards him. ‘Hayden—’
Hayden stopped her with an upheld hand. ‘I’ll see you in the morning, Shirley.’ He got through the door and pulled it shut behind him before breathing again.
Not pity. Not on top of the mouthful of reality she’d already delivered. Just when he thought he didn’t have anything soft and squishy left inside, along came Shirley in her metaphorical commando boots and ground what little was left into pulp.
Not once she gets to know you.
Not that he hadn’t long suspected it—or could even disagree with it—but something about having it spelled out quite so dispassionately …
By her …
Well, he’d wanted conversation. And one thing he knew about Shirley was that any time spent with her would never go where he thought it would. He’d imagined himself a cosy little scenario that involved the two of them talking long into the night, sharing. Bonding. He’d not let himself imagine anything beyond that, but her wild and dishevelled state over dinner had teased and taunted and distracted him for most of the evening as he’d pretended to listen to Caryn but in fact fantasised about ways of getting Shirley that mussed up himself.
