Romancing the Seas

by Cait O'Sullivan

  “You should come around and check it out. We share a bathroom with three other people, and we have to queue for hours in the morning. If it weren’t for the fact that you were a new, senior member of staff, people would be getting seriously pissed off at the fact that you get the preferential treatment.” Fiona held a hand up to Pippa, stopping her from butting in. “I know, I know, it’s not your choice, nor is it your fault, but some people could choose to see it differently. Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, and you get to share the same space as the wonderful Mr. Eagleton. What could possibly be wrong with that?”

  The fact that I am hopelessly attracted to the wonderful Mr. Eagleton.

  Try as she might, she couldn’t raise a smile. “You’re right, of course you are.” She gave a brisk shiver. “I’m just missing the warmth of the fire.”

  “Oh, wasn’t it so lovely … ”

  Pippa sat back and listened to her friend gossip about the evening, and managed to nod in the right place. Maybe some things weren’t meant to be made sense of. Like the Maori who had plucked her from the beach to dance.

  Juliet’s breathless giggles floated back into the large boat from the cockpit.

  How romantic.

  She could only imagine too well the lowness of the lights, casting Jonathon’s face into rivulets of shadows, and Juliet making the most of the darkness. Her heart hardened. Of course Jonathon didn’t fancy her, a lowly chef. Why would he when he had the billionaire’s daughter hanging off every word he said?

  She crossed her legs. Heck, she could get through this. No problem at all. It was only a matter of time and space.

  She only had another ten days to get through, but precious little space to do so.

  Chapter Seven

  Pippa couldn’t believe it when the twenty-four hour break from the ship loomed close. Ever since Whangara, she had kept her head down, learning as much as she could, and avoiding Jonathon. When they did meet, she did her best to be coolly casual to him, but couldn’t ever bring her gaze to meet his, afraid of what she may see, or worse, afraid of what he might glimmer from her. Her dreams were a traitor to the cause though, for night after night, she was wakening with images, both salacious and innocuous, of the two of them together, circling, weakening her resolve.

  They sailed through the vivid blues of the waterways between the two islands, and through the Queen Charlotte Fiord. Whenever Pippa could get up on deck or out on her balcony, she feasted her eyes on the unfolding landscape. The high cliffs were covered in various shades of green, broken only by white gushing waterfalls and sharp brown jagged rocks. Scudding white clouds completed the exotic look, and even as it was dangerous, it was inviting too, and her heart constricted in desire to get out there.

  As they neared Kaikoura, her stomach twisted in excitement. The passengers had twenty-four hours on shore so she could do whatever she wanted to.

  Coming back to her suite after breakfast service, she put on her hiking gear that she had left out the previous night. She laced up her trusty boots and a bubble of excitement rose up from her belly and came out of her mouth, her mouth, singing quietly to herself. She strode over the gangway without a backward glance at the Princess Coral, watching instead the emerging landscape. The road snaked through the green hills to the National Park, beckoning her closer, and she was still humming when she signed into the book — arrival time, intentions, and what time she aimed to be back down. She bought some refreshments and, wriggling into her daypack, headed off on the trail, breathing in deeply the rich, fresh air.

  The trail led her into an ancient beech forest, with laden trees groaning overhead. The ground was smothered in brown, red, and orange leaves, which crunched beneath her boots with a satisfying crisp noise, loosening the smell of damp, loamy undergrowth. When she looked upwards, the azure blue of the sky was such a direct contrast to the reds and browns of the early autumn trees that she nearly succumbed to the desire to fling herself backwards onto a bed of leaves and gaze up through the vivid hues. Later, on her way back down, then she would have plenty of time but for now, her aim was to get up to Surveyor’s Peak, see the view and get back down before dark. She may love hiking, but hiking on an unknown trail in the dark was a minimum of fun, especially one that was teeming with wildlife but devoid of humans.

  Several hours later, she climbed, panting and gasping, to the peak. Her reward laid itself out before her like a patchwork quilt when she reached the top: the ship, a toy boat nestled in the bay. And if she peered hard enough, she could see the coast of the north island. She forgot to breathe as her eyes drank in the view, not being able to get enough of it.

  Taking her camera out of the case, she clicked shot after shot of each direction. Thankfully, there was no one else there to disturb her peace and quiet, although someone special to encase her in a bear hug whilst they looked at the view together was a thought she had to push aside.

  Even her sandwiches tasted better than they should’ve done out here in the bright, crisp air, but once she had demolished them, the hike back down started calling out to her. She took one last look, then, feeling like a bit of a twit, she threw her arms open in the direction of the sea and let her head fall back so she could see the sky. She concentrated on expanding her diaphragm from her stomach up, drawing oxygen up through her lungs, and expelling with a quick force. It was a relaxing action until time encroached upon her. Shaking her head, she glanced to the south only to see dark clouds gathering. She quickly packed her backpack and it was then she saw him.

  Jonathon.

  Ruggedly handsome, he was dressed in dark jeans, hiking boots, and a burnt orange jacket. The upturned collar just grazed his square, lightly stubbled jaw, and his hair was delightfully messy. Just looking at him made her yearn to run her fingers through it. The burnt orange of his jacket heightened the dark colours of his eyes, yet she could’ve sworn light emblazoned from them. Her stomach twisted, and her legs yearned to carry her to him. Who was she kidding, thinking she could deny the attraction she felt for him?

  It assailed her.

  But how long had he been standing there? Had he seen her display? She glanced at him to see a smile curve his lips. Yup, it looked like he sure had. Boy oh boy, she felt like a prize idiot now. She put a hand to her mouth to suppress the giggle that was starting deep in her belly, feeling a little intoxicated from the deep breathing Jonathon had just borne witness to. As she thought about it from his viewpoint, the giggle escaped in a whoosh and she lowered her eyes, which were flooding with giggling tears.

  “H … hi,” she just about managed to get out.

  He put his head to the side, and eyed her up and down, and she felt each touch of his gaze as though he physically stroked her. “Do you know what I think, Ms. Renshaw?” Jonathon’s voice was dry, the sound of a smile breaking through.

  Not trusting herself to get one more syllable out, Pippa just shook her head.

  “I think you are a little bit mad, and a little bit funny, and a little bit serious … ” He started walking the short distance between them. “And a little bit cute, and a little bit quirky, but most of all … ” He stopped in front of her. “A little bit kissable.” With that, he took her hand away from her mouth and dropped a quick kiss into the palm.

  A squawk escaped from Pippa as in one smooth motion, he took her into his arms. Her heart sped up to beat uncontrollably and she stared, mesmerized, as he bent his head to press his lips against hers. Her lips felt so sensitive under his warm, hard kiss, which took the remaining breath out of her along with a soft oh. They came alive — they were parched and Jonathon an oasis.

  When the gentle tip of his tongue reached out to outline her lips, a bolt of electricity shone through her, setting her senses on overload. She pulled back to stare up at him in shock, her fingers aching to reach out to touch his face, to entwine themselves in his hair. His dark head was outlined against the bright sk
y, and she wanted nothing more than to scatter her thoughts to the wind before saying, “Yo, you big stud, take me to bed or lose me forever.”

  But quotes from Top Gun were not remotely helpful. Deciding not to say anything rather than gabble like a goose, she stood out of his electrically charged space. Chest rising and falling rapidly, she waited for him to speak, her legs doing a reasonably good job of holding her up, despite having turned to jelly.

  He ran his hands over his face and put his fingers back through his hair — but I want to do that — and took a shaky breath. “Look, Pippa.” He spread his hands out toward her. “I don’t know what happened there. I’m sorry, it was unforgivable for me to behave like that toward you. I just couldn’t resist.” His mouth twisted in a rueful grin, which slowly died as his eyes met Pippa’s.

  Pippa tried to think straight, but it was hard with desire nipping at her. Why had he kissed her? More to the point, why apologise? He must regret it already. Whereas she had loved it. She had never been kissed so … so … masterfully before. And God, look what it had woken within her. How was she going to beat her attraction now? She should join Attractions Anonymous. Hi, my name is Pippa Renshaw and I am inexorably attracted to a man who doesn’t feel the same way.

  He stared at her, an unreadable look on his face.

  “It was unforgivable, actually, you’re right.” She forced herself to talk to him, anything to try to stop her awareness of him, of his full lips and his quirky smile and his hot body … dammit. “I don’t know what you thought you were doing. I mean, you are the CEO and all that. You should know better!” Lack of oxygen brought her rant to a halt just in time for an ominous rumble. The dark clouds rolled and multiplied by the second, and clashed into each other, cymbals in the sky.

  “Come on.” Jonathon reached out to her as though to grab her by the arm but stopped just short of touching her. “We need to find shelter — if that storm hits us out here, we’ll be in trouble.” He turned and strode off, and Pippa trotted behind him.

  “Are we heading for the trees? We’ll get some shelter there, at least.” She was puffing as she spoke, pulling her hood out from under her backpack.

  “No, there’s a tramping hut here, tucked out of sight. I stayed there a few years ago. Quickly.”

  A fat raindrop hit the ground beside Pippa, and another one to the front of her. The heavens opened, the loud shush of the downpour drowning out all other sound. Her visibility narrowed as sheets of grey water slanted to the ground, and she focused on Jonathon’s orange jacket ahead of her. Winds gusted around her, buffeting her sideways, and the weight of her backpack doubled as the water seeped through it. Rain laid siege to her from all angles, bouncing off the hard ground.

  “Here.” Jonathon had to shout to make himself heard, and he reached out to grab her hand. “Stay with me.” He slowed his pace to hers, a solid anchor for her to cling to.

  • • •

  Jonathon held Pippa’s cold hand, resisting the urge to tuck it into his pocket. That would be too personal. Mind you, after that kiss, what was too personal? He didn’t know what had overcome him — all he knew was that when he saw Pippa standing there, outlined against the cerulean sky, arms flung outward, that he had to kiss her.

  No other thoughts had entered after that one.

  He put his head down against the wind and angled his upper body so his shoulder sheltered Pippa at least a little bit. The air turned biting cold, but he radiated warmth throughout, knowing she was by his side. He couldn’t forget the way her lips had moulded to his, the way she’d turned delightfully pliable, and his lower stomach tightened imagining just how soft she could be. Given half a chance, he’d love to find out, but he had to draw the line at a kiss. Pippa had been wide-eyed and beautiful as she pulled back, but she had been right. That was where it stopped.

  It only took five minutes to reach the hut, but it may as well have been a lifetime. Pippa stood on the porch shivering, her legs and backpack drenched, but a wry smile wreathed her face. Jonathon opened the door, and they tumbled into the shelter of the hut, dripping on the stone floor.

  “How lovely!” Pippa sounded surprised.

  “Have you been in a trampers’ hut before?” Jonathon unzipped his dripping jacket to leave it hanging on the porch, and stretched his hand out for Pippa’s jacket to do the same. She took hers off, looking around with a smile.

  “Never. I expected it to be more of a — oh, I don’t know — a basic shed. This is luxury, in comparison. Look, a kitchen and everything.”

  The hut was an L-shaped room, a kitchen of sorts tucked away in the corner with hanging pots and pans, a large wooden table, and chairs. A huge fireplace was set deep in the stone wall, with sleeping mats against the opposite wall.

  “New Zealand is well set up for tramping. It makes a lot of money from tourists from all around the world coming here. They know how to do it right, make sure they come back again.” As Jonathon spoke, he wondered whether they would be making use of the sleeping mats. The rain hadn’t lessened, if anything, it seemed to be worse. Night was only a couple of hours away.

  Pippa shivered as though the same thought crossed her mind.

  “So get your wet gear off before you freeze. There should be blankets somewhere — go have a look while I light the fire.” Jonathon crouched by the fireplace, checking out the cast iron box beside it. Just as he’d thought, there was plenty of fuel and the fire laid. He lit a match to the kindling, appreciating the sound of the dry wood taking to the flame.

  Pippa came over, holding her boots and socks.

  “That was fast!” She hung her socks by the fire and placed her boots as close as she could to the flames.

  “The huts are well looked after. Whoever is the last to leave lays the fire ready for the next trampers. With a bit of luck, the fire will be blazing soon so we can dry our clothes in order to head out again. Speaking of which, you need to get changed.” He looked at her to see her apprehension, freckles standing out against her pale face. She didn’t move. What was the problem? Getting undressed with him around?

  He blew gently on the kindling to avoid the emotions that soared through him at the thought of Pippa dressed only in a blanket. Fine, there were no drums, and they were far away from a beach, but they had the fire and they were alone. He hauled his thoughts back and looked at Pippa to see her looking thoroughly miserable.

  “Pippa, you’ll catch your death of cold, so go around the corner and take your clothes off. There should be a cupboard with some dry blankets. Find it, get a blanket, and get out of those clothes.”

  “Sir, yes, sir!” She turned and padded around the corner before he could trust himself to look back at her.

  “So how do you know so much about these huts?” Her voice travelled back to him as he undid his boots with ice-cold fingers.

  “I’ve been in this part of the world for nearly two years now. I’ve just moved to New Zealand, was living in Melbourne until now. I spent a few months hiking around when I first came out to this side of the world and ever since, I’ve wanted to move here.” He took off his socks and shook them outside, water dripping from them.

  “So you like hiking?” Pippa’s voice sounded muffled, as though her head was in a cupboard.

  “Yup, anything outdoors really, hiking, kayaking, climbing, you name it, I love it. That’s why New Zealand is perfect for me, gives me many opportunities to get out in the wild. My job keeps me busy and it’s nice to know that any spare time I get, I can be straight out there. No wasted time. Like today.” He paused and looked at the rapidly building fire. Much as he loved getting out, the older he got, the more he wanted someone to share the outdoors with. Someone to watch the stunning scenery with, to work through a tough hike to reap the rewards, to turn and look at her and smile as if to say, “Hey babe, we made it.” To be in a trampers’ hut on their own, a bit like … this.<
br />
  The thought rocked him.

  “How about family, do you not miss them?”

  Jonathon lost himself in his thoughts. Did he want to commit to someone? Was it his age? Or was it because it was Pippa?

  “You don’t have to answer.” Pippa’s voice became louder as she appeared, shuffling around the corner, looking for all the world like a western Geisha Girl, yet with a heavy blanket restricting her movements. She had tied the blanket like a toga, over one shoulder to leave the other one bare and there were a few freckles on that shoulder just begging to be kissed. He had never known something as shapeless as a blanket could form such alluring attire, but it skimmed over her slender figure, falling in neat folds to the floor. One of the folds crept open as Pippa moved closer to the fire, providing him with a glimpse of a long, slender calf. His throat went dry as he watched her peg her clothes out to dry, taking care to hide her bra and knickers behind her t-shirt.

  He looked up at her, flummoxed as his mind took the blanket from her to expose her creamy flesh. When she paused in her shuffling to look at him questioningly, he broke his thoughts off with an internal flick of his head.

  “Sorry, what did you ask?”

  “About your family, do you not miss them?” She sat on the chair furthest from him, crossing her ankles neatly together to close her knees, reminding him of the day in the Stevenson Hotel. On one hand, it seemed like yesterday and on the other it felt as though he had known her all his life. Hadn’t she always been with him?

  “Oh, my dad died when I was twelve, left me and my mum in a lot of debt.” He sat back on his hunkers, then thought better of it as his bare heels met his sodden jeans. He stood instead, not meeting Pippa’s gaze, sure he would find only sympathy there.

  She said nothing. Smart girl.

  He carried on talking, strangely uplifted by telling her. “As soon as I could, I left school to work. When Dad died, we had to sell the house but the debt was bottomless. Mum held down three jobs at the minimum wage just to ensure I had warm boots on my feet. So the day I left school, I vowed to myself I would buy her a nice house where she could put her feet up and buy all the boots she wanted. Three years later, I did.” He stopped, remembering the semi-detached house he had bought her — or them, as he had still lived with her then.