Calamity Rayne: Gets A Life

by Lydia Michaels

  He smirked and continued on as if he hadn’t just made a Swedish reference to my bum.

  “The windows are customized with full height glazing to maximize the view without overpowering the room in glaring light.” He pressed a button on the wall. “If you want to relax…”

  My jaw unhinged as an enormous flat screen television rose from the bar between the seating area and the dining table. “Whoa. That’s so James Bond!”

  He nodded but didn’t mimic my level of excitement. Once again, his guard was up. How did a person slip in an Ikea ass joke and jump right back into serious mode?

  For being almost the same age, we seemed polar opposites as far as maturity went. When he did smile, it was brief and I never really heard him laugh-laugh. The little chuckles here and there were nice, though. Especially when I caught him at ease, like when speaking to his brother.

  “While we’re here we should go over your paperwork,” he said, pulling a file from a drawer. He tossed it on the table and pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

  He managed to take control of situations so easily, I found myself eager to obey. “What sort of paperwork?” I slid into the chair he offered.

  “Mostly tax stuff.” He produced a pen and slid me a form. “You can start with this. And this one’s for payroll.”

  Nodding, I read over the form and quickly filled in the information. “Do I use the address where we’ll be staying or my home address?”

  His gaze studied me. Was that a dumb question?

  “I’d use your permanent address.”

  Why was he looking at me like that? Feeling like I had food on my face, I casually brushed my fingers over my cheeks and filled in the blank spaces.

  Keeping my head down, I continued to catch him studying me from the next seat. When I faced him, my heart raced, and I couldn’t take it anymore.

  “You keep staring at me.”

  “Sorry.” He glanced at my paper. “You have nice handwriting.”

  “Uh, thanks.” My grade school teachers would be so proud.

  His gaze didn’t stay averted for long. This time when he looked at me there was a sort of resignation in his eyes. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, Rayne. We’ll be working with each other regularly.”

  That didn’t calm my nerves—not one bit. So I fibbed. “I’m not nervous.”

  His hand settled over mine where my fingers were rapidly twiddling the pen. “You sure?”

  Touching! I instantly stopped breathing. Was it hot in here? “Do you have anything else for me to fill out?”

  He eased his hand back and studied me like a math problem. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out what he saw. “Not right now. We should get on with our tour.”

  I stood, eager to put some space between us. “Lead the way.”

  He rose and walked through the narrow hall. “Down this hall, you have the master stateroom.” He pointed to his father’s suite.

  “I’ve already been in there.”

  He glanced at me and his slight grin vanished. I didn’t know what it would take to convince him I wasn’t here to bone his dad, but if he didn’t stop jumping to conclusions, I was going to start really messing with him.

  Gesturing to the stairs that led to our sleeping quarters, he muttered, “You’re familiar with the below deck quarters.”

  “How many people have you had stay onboard?”

  “She sleeps ten guests comfortably, but there are a lot more onboard at any given time.”

  I really wanted to see where they were hiding the crew. We cut through the dining room and he slid open a door. The kitchen was pristine stainless steel with granite countertops.

  “The galley is the hub of the yacht.”

  The stove had chrome channels around each burner. “I guess this keeps the pots and pans from sliding.”

  He nodded, his gaze neutral yet scrutinizing me. His voice softened in the small space. “There’s commercial refrigeration, which is sea water cooled. We have enough freezer space to store food for a three-week voyage.”

  Although he was only describing the amenities, my attention zeroed in on his soft lips as they caressed each word.

  “It’s so professional,” I murmured and swallowed. “Can I have a drink of water?” I was suddenly parched.

  “Sure.” He reached into one of the refrigerators and retrieved a bottle of Davenport water. Once he unscrewed the cap, he handed it to me. “You’re probably dehydrated from last night. You might want to watch being out in the sun today.”

  I took a sip and nodded. That was probably what this was, just some simple dehydration.

  I stilled as he pressed the backs of his knuckles to my forehead, our gazes holding for a split second that felt a decade too long. “You’re a little warm.”

  My face felt like it was on fire. I took another sip as soon as his touch fell away. Shaking off my strange behavior, I returned my focus to the kitchen.

  “After seeing this I’m a little upset I missed dinner last night.”

  “Our chef’s one of the best. He’s Creole. I highly recommend his beignets.”

  “What’s a beignet?”

  As his head tilted a thin strip of golden hair fell out of place. He was on the cusp of being a brunette, but the sun had definitely brought out his natural blond highlights. “You’ve never had one?”

  “No, but I like all food.”

  “That’s a shame. They’re decadent, deep fried like a fritter and loaded with powdered sugar.” His gaze dropped to my chest. “I wouldn’t recommend eating one while wearing black.”

  My bra constricted as every breath pressed my breasts tighter against the material. His attention drifted to my mouth, lingered for a moment then shifted to my eyes.

  “I’m sure we can have Laurent make a batch.”

  Captivated by the way his silver eyes looked almost blue, I whispered, “But I’m wearing black.” Apparently I sucked at flirty banter.

  He blinked and the eye contact was severed as he abruptly turned. I lost my balance as if his gaze were holding me up.

  “We can tell him to go light on the sugar,” he mumbled, moving on with the tour. “If you follow me upstairs I’ll show you the captain’s quarters.”

  Cursing myself for sounding dumber than usual I followed him out of the galley. Maybe I was totally misreading his signals and lingering glances. If that were the case I needed to clear things up, maybe remind him it wasn’t polite to stare or turn women on with no intentions of following through.

  “Hey,” I called when we reached another narrow stairwell.

  He paused and turned, but didn’t seem the least bit aware of the mixed signals he was sending out. It was as if I’d imagined the whole thing. I didn’t think I’d imagined the chemistry back there, but Elle was always teasing me about being terrible at reading men, so maybe I did.

  He lifted his brows, waiting for me to say something.

  “Um…”

  Maybe I should just let it go. I was tired, dehydrated, and a little hungry now that my motion sickness had waned. All of that probably was having an affect on me. “Never mind.”

  He took a step down, putting us only a foot apart. “What were you going to say?”

  “Nothing. I…” I shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  A shadow passed at the top of the steps and we both glanced in that direction. A female voice spoke to someone and I recognized the Spanish accent as the one belonging to the woman who served breakfast.

  Hale looked back at me. “You sure?”

  The only thing I was sure of in that moment was that this stairwell was too cramped for two people. “You just… seemed distracted. If you don’t want to show me around anymore, I can find my way back.”

  For the briefest moment, his guarded expression slipped again. It was like peeking behind the curtain of Oz and my breath caught every time I got a glimpse of the real him.

  “I want to show you around.”

  I really wished Elle
were here to interpret this situation. “Okay. I just didn’t want you to feel obligated. I’m sure you have more important things to do.”

  “This is what I want to be doing.”

  Like that! Right there! Was that because of me or because he really liked playing tour guide?

  To play it safe, I assumed the latter and put all my dirty thoughts away. I had no business having such thoughts anyway. “Okay then. Do I get to meet the captain?”

  “I’ll introduce you.” Seeming satisfied, he turned and continued up the stairs.

  I forced myself not to look at his butt this time, and I succeeded, for the most part. We entered another living room, this one completely surrounded by glass.

  “Is this the captain’s quarters?”

  “No. This is where I usually am if you’re ever looking for me.”

  “I guess I haven’t been up here yet because of Remington’s foot. How did he get to the sky deck this morning?”

  “I helped him.”

  “Oh.”

  Being that I was the assistant, I should have been the one assisting him, but I couldn’t imagine helping a man of Remington’s size up a flight of stairs. Hale probably did it without breaking a sweat.

  “The bar is there if you find yourself in need of a drink. Working for my father, I imagine you’ll become quite familiar with our stock.”

  So far I hadn’t had the impulse to hit the sauce, but it was good to know I had permission if the need arose. “Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Sliding open the glass door, we stepped onto another deck, but it wasn’t the one I’d been on that morning. This one had a long dining table and was shaded by the sky deck overhead.

  He pointed to the stairs. “They lead you back to the sky deck.”

  If I listened over the surf, I could hear the low rumble of Remington’s voice above. I should probably get back.

  Reaching in my pocket, I checked my phone and frowned. “I have a notification.”

  Hale waited as I navigated my way through the device.

  “I don’t know what this means,” I mumbled. “He has so many apps on this phone I don’t know what half of them do, and the damn thing’s always pinging and alerting me of something.”

  He leaned closer, the intoxicating scent of his skin purifying the briny air. “Maybe I can help.” Capturing my hand holding the phone, he angled the screen so he could see. “Your stock crashed.”

  “What?” I snapped. “I just bought it!”

  Briefly glancing at me, he took the phone. “Did you—” His words cut off as he cleared his throat. Facing me again, his voice lowered. “What made you buy that stock?”

  Mortified that he might make some connection between the Hale Sterling & Gold stock and his name, I quickly justified, “Gold’s up.”

  He laughed. “Gold’s a defacto commodity. Our country’s in debt and there’s an election coming up. Whenever alarmists shake the faith in the American dollar, which is only as good as the solvent government that backs it, people fall back on global currencies. Hence gold going up. It fluctuates daily.”

  Whatever he just said was sexy as hell. Brains would always turn me on more than any other male organ.

  “Well, that’s just great. I should have invested in stupid corn.”

  “How much did you invest?”

  “A hundred bucks. I’m going to punch your father.”

  Hale scowled. “Did he advise you to buy that stock?” He seemed more concerned that his dad might have fed me poor advice than he seemed worried I might punch the old man.

  “No. He said something about the instability of gold and a bunch of economic mumbo jumbo, but I sort of stopped listening after the tenth do you follow, Meyers.”

  Hale laughed. “Don’t sweat it. It’ll go back up by morning. When it does, pull your money and put it in something like E’say Marketplace.”

  “Really?” Assuming all wasn’t lost brought huge relief.

  “Yeah. By morning you’ll be golden.”

  Hale Sterling & Gold, golden? Heh-heh. I’m so clever.

  Leading us back inside, he showed me the server, which was like a little kitchenette on the upper deck. “We’re just above the galley on the main deck,” he said, opening a pantry. “In here is the dumbwaiter.”

  I peeked my head in the little cabinet. “How very Clue. Could a person fit in there?”

  He laughed and this time, his smile reached his eyes. “Why?”

  “I’m just saying, it might be a way to get Remington around.”

  “I’m almost positive he won’t let you stuff him in the dumbwaiter.”

  I waved a finger. “But not one hundred percent positive.”

  He shrugged. “You do have a charming way about you.” Turning, he exited the server and left me standing there.

  I was charming? He thought I was charming?

  Funny, all of my life I’d been told I was silly or cute or dorky in a good way or even pretty at times, but I couldn’t remember anyone ever calling me charming. Charm was such a prideworthy characteristic, being that it didn’t stem from good genes and couldn’t be faked. Hell, I wasn’t even trying to be charming, but apparently, I’d done something to charm Hale.

  Skipping after him I entered a room decked out in black leather and full of busy sounds, as the ocean rushed out before us.

  “Rayne, this is Wyatt, the captain of The Lady Parr.”

  The captain turned in his seat and offered a wide, gap-toothed smile. “Pleasure.”

  Multiple computer monitors occupied the view just before the slanted windshield and I really didn’t think we should distract the one person steering the ship.

  Hale settled into the large leather seat beside Wyatt and flipped a couple of switches and rattled off some numbers. Wyatt immediately responded, speaking in the same sort of sea code. If Hale could actually captain a ship like this, my ovaries might just explode, because this was no small machine.

  Doppler images scanned the ocean and I could almost make out the appearance of the coast, but for all I knew I might be looking at a pregnant woman’s sonogram.

  Oh, look, a penis and he has his daddy’s eyes. Oops, never mind. That’s just Nags Head, North Carolina.

  “Do you want to try?”

  My attention shifted from the computer screens to Hale. “Try what?”

  “Driving her.”

  Eyes wide, I looked at him like he’d lost his mind. And now that I thought about it, his Kamikaze driving skills really shouldn’t be behind the wheel of a vessel this size.

  “No, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on.” He stood and ushered me toward the leather seat, but my legs were too stiff to sit. “Relax, Rayne.” He gave my shoulders a gentle press, and I dropped into the chair.

  My hands folded tightly in my lap. If he had any idea of my track record for calamities, he would not ask me to sit here. This was like the cockpit of that spacecraft Vader built after they destroyed the Death Star—The Super Duper Death Star.

  “Put your hands on the wheel,” Hale said from behind me. Having him lean over the chair far enough that his breath tickled my neck was not helping matters.

  “I’m good. I think Wyatt has everything covered, don’t you Wyatt?”

  “It’s all you,” the Captain said, releasing the wheel.

  Looking out the window with utter panic, my hands shot to the leather wheel, and both men laughed. “I don’t know how to drive a boat!”

  They laughed again and Hale leaned closer, adjusting my hands. “Relax. You aren’t going to hit anything.”

  But Remington wouldn’t tell me how much the yacht cost and I was pretty sure it was more than I could make in six lifetimes. And now my hands were sweating, which Hale probably realized, being that he was still touching me. And here came the cramps.

  “Oh God.”

  All I could hear in my head were the voices of the characters from the movie Titanic yelling Capitaine! Capitaine! Where do we go, Capitaine? But I wa
s pretty sure there weren’t any icebergs on the east coast.

  “It feels good having so much power at your fingertips, doesn’t it?” Hale whispered, and I was almost certain my uterus imploded. Seriously, he should not be allowed to say things like that to me.

  “Give her a little pull to the left.”

  Muscles tense, I turned the wheel with little resistance, but Hale’s grip made sure I didn’t spin us out of control. Could yachts capsize? When nothing really happened, I laughed out of sheer nervousness.

  Hale reached for the controls and shifted a joystick between the captain chairs and my eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “Just checking on things. You’re doing great.” His hand returned to mine and his thumb grazed my knuckle. Okay, that was definitely not my imagination.

  My breath caught in my throat and I vaguely noticed Wyatt stepping away. “Where’s he going?” I rasped.

  “He’ll be right back. Loosen your grip.” He pried my fingers off the wheel and readjusted my hands, his touch incredibly soft and distracting.

  “It’s hard to concentrate when you’re so close.”

  His head turned and I sensed him watching my face, but I was too afraid to take my eyes off the water. “Do you want me to back off?”

  My gaze briefly skittered to his. That was a mistake. We were so close I could count his freckles. “Hale… if we crash… I’m blaming you.”

  He smirked. “Then you better keep your eyes ahead.”

  I cleared my throat and refocused, but he continued to guide my hands and lean over my seat. Strangely, as much as his nearness set me off balance it also put me at ease. While I had zero confidence in my captaining abilities, I trusted him to keep us safe.

  “I remember the first time my dad let me drive. It was right after my parents split up. I could barely see over the wheel. There’s nothing quite as exhilarating as that first time.”

  I was never going to breathe normally again. “I don’t think he’d approve of you letting me drive.”

  “I’m not one to wait for my dad’s approval. Sometimes you just have to do what you want.”

  His hand gave mine a brief squeeze and then he eased back, hunching to my side, close enough to direct me. But it was actually pretty simple. There was no boat traffic and nothing but wide open ocean ahead.