Summer in the City: The perfect feel-good summer romance

by Emma Jackson

  The yacht was impossible to miss. It was a hundred feet long, pristine white, with fairy lights strung all around it, navy blue water sloshing gently against its sides. There was a gangplank leading down to the lowest of three decks where people were already gathered, modern dance music pumping from somewhere and the sound of laughter and animated conversation echoing over the water.

  ‘Are you okay? I didn’t think to ask if you were all right on the water?’ Stephen asked when he felt my hesitation.

  ‘I’m fine. It’s just a fancier than the boats I’m used to. Like the Staten Island Ferry.’ I forced a smile. ‘We’ll have to do that one day over the summer.’

  ‘Maybe you could make another list? Of all the places in New York you’d like to show me before I go back to London.’

  Oof, those words at the end of the sentence hit me like a brick. I knew he was going back to London – it was where he lived – but there were less than two months of summer left. If he was always this busy with work, it was no time at all.

  I tried to shake the feeling off. There was no sense getting upset about him leaving now. By the time the end of August rolled around, I could well have had enough of him myself.

  It was just hard to imagine giving up kisses like the one he’d laid on me at the pier though. I’d almost passed out. His lips should carry a health warning.

  Any plans we had for sneaking away early were scuppered by the fact that once the guest of honour arrived, the yacht took to the river. I hadn’t realised we were going to be sailing anywhere – which I suppose was a bit stupid considering that was the point of a boat – but Stephen’s eyes immediately met mine, and I realised he hadn’t known either.

  I tried to enjoy the beautiful view as we got further down the river. The yacht was smooth and fast, a wind whipping at us. The sky was darkening quicker than usual, as clouds gathered, but it allowed the lights of the city to shine brighter in contrast. There were delicious little canapés being delivered by waiting staff on trays alongside champagne. Really, really good champagne, which was the only thing that was going to get me through being held captive with Stephen’s really, really boring colleagues.

  I should have known with all this money and ambition, the topics of conversation would fall outside my interests. Skiing, holiday homes and the property index. They’re not uninteresting topics in and of themselves, but when your holiday home is usually a bed and breakfast, the only time you’ve been skiing was on a school trip and you couldn’t even afford to buy the tiny cramped apartment you lived in, it was hard to contribute meaningfully.

  Stephen was himself but on his best behaviour. He oozed charm at a level that bordered on insincerity. Not that I thought he was lying exactly. He could genuinely mean the things he was saying, but was he really interested in that man’s log cabin enterprise scheme, which meant he could bear listening to him talk about it for thirty minutes straight? I managed to down two more glasses of champagne in that time just trying to survive it myself and everything went a bit wobbly.

  Then his boss joined us. She was gorgeous; not much taller than me but poised in four-inch stilettos that probably cost more than a month’s rent, and her one-shouldered sleek white dress showed her perfectly toned arms off perfectly. I glanced at Stephen and his smile was still the same one he’d been using all night, politely dazzling but not the full spectacle. Even so, I felt an uncomfortable rub of worry. I looked like an idiotic child next to this woman, dressed up in my mother’s clothing, like Minnie Mouse gone wrong. And this was her yacht. She owned the damn thing I’d come to realise during a conversation I’d been subjected to about sailing clubs.

  ‘Who’s your lovely lady friend, Sir Stephen?’ She was all assessing eyes and drawling voice.

  ‘This is Noelle Kingston,’ Stephen introduced me, but he didn’t add any additional titles like girlfriend. Just like he’d called me his ‘friend’ when introducing me to his father. Did he not want her to know we were dating? Or maybe he was just respecting the fact that I was a person in my own right, not his accessory. Figuring out these dating issues was hard these days. Particularly when you’d drunk too much champagne. Particularly when you’d drunk too much champagne and the object of your affection didn’t want to make you any promises.

  ‘Why is that name familiar?’ She tilted her head.

  ‘Perhaps you’ve read some of her books. Noelle’s a best-selling crime writer.’ He looked down at me and there it was, the silver-screen smile that lit up behind his eyes too. I felt it tingle down to my toes. ‘They’re really popular.’

  ‘Maybe that’s it. Although I don’t read popular fiction.’

  Ah-ha, she was one of them. A woman who’d got to the top by distancing herself from ‘other women’. The kind that read frivolous fiction. Or, y’know, maybe she just really liked biographies. She was welcome to her opinion.

  That champagne was really starting to get to me.

  ‘No? I find fiction relaxing. And Noelle’s books are great fun and very clever – just like her.’

  My eyes widened. ‘You’ve read my books?’

  ‘One or two. That’s not weird is it?’

  ‘No.’ I shook my head and then felt a little tumble in my tummy. He’d read them and was recommending them? That wasn’t weird – it was wonderful.

  ‘We’ll have to watch what we say around you, Noelle. In case you decide to immortalise us.’ Georgina laughed and I obliged her with the fake laugh I’d developed for comments like that or when people reacted like I was a serial killer just because I wrote about murders. ‘I must go. The weather is turning so I think we’ll need to head back to the pier for the rest of the party. Lovely to meet you.’ She made to leave and then stopped, placing her perfectly manicured hand on Stephen’s arm. ‘I’m going to arrange that meeting for the week after next. It looks like Wednesday will be the best day. Does that work for you?’

  ‘Yes, I think that Wednesday is clear. Any time that suits you.’

  ‘Perhaps a dinner then.’ She raised her eyebrow, her hand still lingering, sliding down from where his sleeve was rolled up to where his forearm was bare. I wanted to swat it straight off him; I could feel the ease had evaporated from his body. Maybe it made him uncomfortable to have me witnessing how much flirting went on at his workplace. With his gorgeous, rich and powerful boss. ‘Enjoy the rest of the party.’

  As soon as she was gone, Stephen curled his arm around my waist, pulling me around to face him but I held myself back from pressing against his chest the way I wanted to.

  ‘Are you all right? You’re abnormally quiet.’

  ‘I’ve drunk too much champagne.’ It wasn’t even a lie. The motion of the yacht as it glided over the water was not helping with how unsteady I felt.

  His dark eyes grew concerned. ‘Shall we find a seat and get you some water?’

  ‘That’s probably a good idea.’

  We headed below deck to the massive lounge. Not many people were down there. Why would you be when you could be watching the New York skyline as the sun went down? Unless you needed the toilet. I might be needing it myself soon if my stomach didn’t settle.

  ‘Here, look out the window, otherwise it might make you feel worse.’ He guided me over to a sofa by a porthole and kissed the top of my head. ‘I’ll go get you some water and see if I can find anything more substantial for you to eat.’

  ‘Just the water will be good.’ I caught his hand, hating the jealousy that was roiling up inside of me when he was being so kind. I wanted to focus on the good stuff. ‘So, how many of my books have you read?’

  ‘Ahh.’ He grinned. ‘I may have exaggerated slightly. I bought your latest and was thoroughly enjoying it, so I decided I needed to read the series from the beginning. I bought them all and I’ve started from book one.’

  ‘Oh. So you haven’t finished any yet?’ I tried to beat down the disappointment.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why did you make out you have then?’

  ‘You
don’t like me promoting you?’

  ‘You don’t need to do that. I’d prefer you to be honest.’

  ‘I wasn’t dishonest. I do think you’re a great writer, Noelle.’ His brow furrowed as he looked at me, but I didn’t feel up to explaining that spinning a tale from a kernel of truth was still a lie. ‘I’ll go get that water,’ he said, his voice more subdued. ‘Don’t go anywhere while you’re feeling unsteady, okay?’

  I nodded and turned to lean on the sill of the window. It was growing dark out and the water was gunmetal grey now. Perhaps we were due a storm? A break in the heat would be welcome.

  Someone sat down next to me and I looked over in surprise, my head swinging that way and my vision following a few seconds later in a way that made my stomach churn. I hadn’t expected Stephen to be back so quickly, thinking he’d be stopped a million times on his way to find a glass of water.

  And I was right: it wasn’t him. It was his friend from the bar the other night – Logan. Fantastic. It hadn’t occurred to me that he’d been here too.

  ‘Hi there. You look familiar, but you don’t work with us, do you?’

  Oh God, was he going to try and pick me up? He didn’t even recognise me.

  ‘No.’ I was going to save us both the agony and hope he moved on quickly. ‘You tried this before at a bar a few weeks ago.’

  ‘I did?’

  He put his meaty arm behind me on the sofa and I shuffled away. If he didn’t get going soon, I was going to barf on his shoes. ‘Yeah. And I told you to get lost then too.’

  His eyebrows raised and he looked me over. I saw it the second he remembered. All his fake friendliness evaporated. ‘I remember. On Fifth Avenue.’ His lip curled. ‘Your friend was prettier.’

  ‘And not interested either.’

  He shook his head and stood up, about to go, thank goodness. Then he turned. ‘I suppose this means I owe Stephen now.’

  ‘Huh?’ Not my most elegant response.

  ‘You’re here with him, right? He won the bet. We made a wager on who could get a date with one of you – or more.’ He leered. ‘Took him a while but I underestimated his game.’

  I didn’t wait to see him leave; there wasn’t time. I staggered for the door at the end of the cabin and managed to get to the toilet just in time for the alcohol to travel back up from my stomach.

  Tears pricked my eyes as I wiped my mouth and flushed, leaning back against the wall. Had it happened again? Had I let some pretty-boy player make a complete idiot of me, again?

  I couldn’t find Noelle and I was starting to get concerned. She hadn’t been down in the cabin or in the toilets, although her hat was still on the sofa, so I picked it up as I went to find her.

  She wasn’t on the lower deck where we’d been before and we were almost back to the pier. Dark had closed in and I was going to have to go to the upper deck now. In general, being on a boat didn’t set off my fear of heights. Something about water seeming less harmful to land on than the ground, even though I knew it wasn’t strictly true, but I still didn’t want to get too close to the railing on the top deck. I wouldn’t land in the water if I fell from there. Unless I bounced.

  I made my way up carefully, trying to keep hold of the water and the blasted hat, ascending the staircase without looking down or to the side. I spotted her almost straight away and my head went as light as if I’d been knocking back the Moët too, seeing her stood right at the edge, leaning her elbows on the railing.

  She looked pale and sad but somewhat steadier. Perhaps she grew maudlin when she’d had too much to drink. I took a deep breath and gripped the rail hard, concentrating on her and not looking down, don’t look down, as I walked over to her.

  ‘I got you some water,’ I said, embarrassed by the breathlessness in my voice. ‘Why didn’t you wait downstairs? Why did you come up here?’

  She glanced at me, and rubbed at the goose bumps over her bare arms, averting her eyes back to the grey and white outline of the pier as we moved towards it. ‘Because I thought you wouldn’t.’

  ‘I find I’m braver when there’s the possibility you’ll offer kisses to distract me from the height,’ I joked and then my adrenalin-riddled brain caught up with what she’d said. ‘Hang on. Why are you trying to avoid me? What have I done?’

  She spared me another glance, eyes glittering with annoyance. ‘Did you make a bet with Logan that night at the bar?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘When he came over, pestering me and Kaylee and you stepped in, acting all gallant. Was that because you were having some stupid frat-boy competition? Was rescuing us and then leaving us alone your tactic to give us a false sense of security before you made a move?’ Her voice rose. ‘Am I here because you’ve been playing a game with me?’

  ‘Logan? Logan told you that?’ That utter dickhead. She’d bumped into him and he’d decided to upset her. And get at me.

  ‘Oh my God, you’re not even denying it. I can’t believe I’ve been so dumb.’ She shook her head and pushed away from the railing, skirting around me in a fast but weaving semi-circle.

  ‘I’m not playing a game with you. I did not make a bet with Logan.’ I struggled to coordinate myself, engage my brain, put down the glass and follow her. She was moving so quickly back down the steps and I tried to keep up with her, but the stairs were so steep going down, the lower deck too far below. I couldn’t make my legs move any quicker. My head was swimming as I followed her to the aft of the boat. ‘Noelle. Stop. He wanted to make a bet, but I just humoured him to shut him up. I was never going to try and ask you or your friend out.’

  ‘You weren’t interested in us? In me? At all.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is that somehow supposed to make me feel better?’

  I rubbed my temples. I wasn’t just struggling to keep up with her physically; the mental leaps were too far for me. ‘Yes, it was supposed to, but I can see it hasn’t. Can we go and sit down to talk please?’

  ‘I want to go home.’ She covered her face with her hand. ‘I knew this was a bad idea.’

  That brought me up short. ‘What was a bad idea? Us dating? Or coming to the party? Or both?’

  She didn’t say anything, and the engine cut as the yacht came to a stop at its mooring.

  ‘Noelle, answer me.’ I reached out for her arm as she moved closer to the gate, waiting for the gangplank.

  She moved to tug her arm free, and her coordination was still heavy and exaggerated after overindulging in the champagne, so she ended up dragging me closer rather than freeing herself. In irritation, she pushed me away. Hard. I wasn’t expecting it. My balance was still shaky and as I hit the railing, I tipped back too far over it. Sheer panic seized me with the shock of being airborne, of falling.

  I heard her scream as I hit the water, a slap on my back that drove the air out of my lungs, and then I was underneath. I needed to breathe in, and I couldn’t do that under the water. I kicked my legs and arms, fighting the force of gravity that was still trying to drag me down as water rushed to soak into the weave of my clothes and fill up my shoes.

  I broke the surface, gasping for air, hearing some cheers and relieved laughter. The yacht was enormous from down in the dark water and I floated, regulating my breathing, getting my strength back before scanning for the best way to get to dry land. The jetty was too high. There was a ladder at the other end of the boat though, leading to the lower deck.

  When I pulled myself out, Noelle’s blasted hat still in my hand and my soaked clothes clinging to me, I was shivering. The person at the top of the ladder was not the one I wanted to see either. Georgina was there, waiting. Noelle was nowhere to be seen.

  ‘Jesus, what was that girl thinking, Stephen? Thank goodness you’re a strong swimmer.’ She slid her hand across my back, the wet material of my shirt meaning she could feel my body directly underneath. ‘C’mon to my room. I’ve got towels; we’ll get you dried up.’

  Oh God. Was she going to try and strip me under the pretext
of towelling me off?

  ‘I should find Noelle.’ I tried to pull away, but she was shepherding me now towards a door and a narrow set of steps that headed down to a cabin.

  ‘I’m not sure that’s a good idea. You need to get warm. Can’t have a member of my team getting hypothermia.’

  With my only other choice being a very obvious sprint in the opposite direction, I found myself in her bedroom cabin. This evening kept getting better and better.

  ‘Here, let me take that.’ She pinched the stupid hat I’d kept hold of between her thumb and forefinger and held it far out from her to avoid getting her dress wet. ‘I’ll fetch you a towel. Why don’t you get out of those wet things and I’ll see if I can find some dry clothes for you.’

  Was I supposed to believe she had men’s clothes down here? Who did they belong to, former lovers or husbands? Men she’d lured in as she sailed around and then eaten?

  She went over to the wardrobe and I didn’t move. Maybe she had no intention of finding any dry clothes; she just wanted to get me naked. This was not a good predicament. If I rejected her, she could turn the tables on me. She could make my secondment a living hell and ruin my progress with the company.

  I was dripping, making a puddle on the thick carpet in her plush cabin. I hugged my arms around my body. I wasn’t going to get undressed. No way.

  ‘You’re still dressed.’ Georgina tutted as she approached with a white fluffy towel over her arm. ‘You’ll never get warm and dry again that way. Here, are your fingers too cold to undo your buttons?’ She threw the towel onto the foot of the bed and reached for the top button of my shirt.

  It was no good. I was going to have to put a stop to this. I just had to think of the right way to let her down. She looked up at me through her eyelashes and popped the button through.

  The door burst open at that moment, Noelle hurrying in. ‘Stephen, are you—’ She paused, her widened eyes full of the scene before her: me, about to be undressed by my boss. Perfect. ‘Looks like you’re fine,’ she said stiffly and left as abruptly as she’d burst in.