Romancing the Seas

by Cait O'Sullivan

  One of those butterflies carried a small spark of hope.

  She stopped a few feet away from him. She couldn’t physically or emotionally go any further. She reached in and pulled her towel from him. Bringing her gaze up, her eyes lit upon his face. His dark eyes were shaded by his frown, and his full bottom lip straightened in a worry line. Stubble shadowed his jaw.

  “Pippa.” Running both hands agitatedly through his hair, he said more strongly, “Pippa.” He held his hand out to her.

  She ignored it. Shivering, she wrapped the towel around her shoulders, knowing it couldn’t quell the real reason she shivered.

  “What are you doing here? Are you looking for Jean-Pierre? He’s out on the vineyards. At least I think he is. I know Eddie is here to do some business with him. Over there — ”

  “I’m here to see you.”

  “Oh? Well, then I guess it’s about the job, so, em, sorry I walked out. I’m cold, do you mind if we carry on this conversation at the house?” She turned to head back.

  He reached out his hand and closed it gently on her forearm. “Yes. No.”

  Hope fizzled. It was only about the job.

  “I’ll start again. Yes, we can go back to the house but no, why I’ve come has nothing to do with the job. Well, almost nothing. I do want to apologise for bringing Marcus in.” He stopped, and she felt his eyes on her. But try as she did, her gaze refused to budge from the footprints in the sand.

  Not trusting herself to speak, she shrugged.

  “Juliet had booked Marcus without informing me and we couldn’t afford the bad publicity if we cancelled him.” He grasped her by one shoulder, his touch drying the remaining drops of seawater and causing her skin to sizzle. He put one hand under her chin and gently brought her head up. His eyes scoured her face, trailing heat. “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Her voice sounded distant to her, as though it wasn’t actually her speaking. But it was the truth, she had gotten over the Gala Dinner. Other, deeper disappointments had taken over. Stepping away from his searing grip, she dropped her chin. “Look, you don’t need to worry about me. I’ll get another job. Maybe here, maybe London. I don’t know yet.” She turned to go back to the house.

  “No, wait. There’s another apology I have to make.” His voice so low she could barely hear him.

  “There’s no need, honestly. Thank you for apologising about last night. Let’s just leave it at that.” She picked up her flip-flops and began the long hike away from the man she loved.

  “Just listen to me, please!” His voice carried an ocean of pleading within it, with a strong undercurrent of deep desire. It brought her to a halt.

  “That comment about you and Mulberry. It was ridiculous, and I knew deep down that you never would have done something like that. I knew, yet still I said it to you. And why? Because I wanted to sabotage what was growing so passionately between us. I was afraid — of my reputation, of being compared to him, of you being the butt end of jokes, but most of all … ” He walked around to stand in front of her, his face ravaged by storms. “I was afraid of loving you. And you know what?” He gave a bitter laugh. “That fear is nothing compared to what I feel now.” He grabbed her hand and it was as though he grabbed her heart, stopping all oxygen to her brain. She was going lightheaded. “I’m afraid to the bones of never seeing you again. Of being deprived of your smile, your caress, your quirky way of looking at things. Look at me, dammit!”

  • • •

  He had lost her. She couldn’t even bear to look at him. As he watched and waited, her frown dissolved and her eyes opened. She looked out to sea and drew a deep breath.

  “I’m sorry too. About that day, you know.” She finally looked at him, softness removing the hard edges that had temporarily shown in her face. “I freaked out because I had woken up after a wonderful night with you to find myself alone. I knew something was wrong. Instead of finding out it was because you were in love with Juliet, or that you regretted what had happened, I attacked you and walked off. It was easier to cope that way, rather than finding out the truth. A truth I was sure I couldn’t bear.”

  Jonathon reached out and pulled her unresistingly into his arms. She stood quiescent but he could feel her heart beating as erratically as his.

  Okay this was it. This was the moment.

  “One more thing.” He felt her nod. “When I said I could fall in love with you, I wasn’t being honest.” He felt her pulling back from him, but he sure as hell wasn’t letting go. “Wait a minute, woman! I wasn’t being honest because, because … I am in love with you.” He stopped and leaned back so he could see her beloved face, her wide turquoise eyes sparkling like the sun over water, cute freckles dotted over her nose, and that sweet, kissable, oft dreamed about, rosebud mouth. “Always have been, always will be. The moment you tumbled into that hotel’s reception, I started falling in love with you. I know it’s crazy … ” He shouted the word at the sky. “We’ve only known each other for eleven short days, but I just know that you and I, we’re right together.”

  She blinked at him, a long, lazy closing of her eyes that only enhanced her irises, making her all eyes as she gazed into him.

  “Speak! Say something.” He let go of her abruptly. “I’m just a fool, aren’t I?”

  She didn’t feel the same way. His heart plummeted as though he himself had just dived straight into the cold sea water.

  Pippa’s slender fingers reached for his, and pulling his hand to her mouth, she dropped a kiss in his palm, then curled his fingers over it.

  “Right there. You have me right there, in the palm of your hand.” She brought her soft hands up to his face and cupped it, eyes luminous with unshed tears. “I’m in love with you too.”

  His heart leapt, a shooting star, trailing gladness around his body, out to his fingertips that were turning white as he held his hand closed tight over her kiss. Pippa glowed as she looked at him and he gazed back, drinking in his fill of her. Eyes fastening on her mouth, he lowered his head and her lips met his shyly. He deepened the kiss, lips moving restlessly on hers, and pressed her body hard against his.

  “I love you, Pippa,” he whispered against her kiss. “Be mine.”

  • • •

  Pippa heard his words through an intoxicated haze. He loved her, he did! Her lips curved, and she felt love coursing through her, leaving no cell unturned.

  Then a thought struck her and she struggled out of his arms. “But what about you being CEO and all that stuff? Or were you thinking since I walked out, I don’t work for you anymore?”

  Jonathon sighed good-naturedly. He picked up a curl and wound his finger through it.

  “You’re a fantastic chef, Pippa, I don’t want to lose you as head chef. All your staff were singing your praises, and you were sorely missed last night. I’m going to be based in Auckland and Sydney for the time being, but I don’t plan on working for Queen Cruises longer than two years anyway. Besides … ” He looked out of the corner of his eyes at her, a mischievous glint to them.

  “Besides?” What was he thinking?

  “If we got married, then that should solve that little problem.”

  “Married?” Pippa spluttered the word. He couldn’t mean it.

  “Pippa, look, I love you. Yes, it’s mad, but heck, who cares? We were made for each other. Let’s get married and spend the rest of our lives getting to know each other. And, if you want, we can have a dozen kids and roam this crazy countryside together. What do you say?”

  She couldn’t say anything. Happiness bubbled up from her core, a volcano erupting with the sheer headiness of the man she loved proposing to her. When did life get so good? The sun shone down with renewed heat, and the sand she stood on sparkled into life. She gazed up into his adored face and ran a finger down the side of it, enjoying the feeling of the hard edge of his jaw,
the raspy stubble.

  “What do I say? I say yes!” She was drunk on love. A thrill ran through her intoxication, a little red hot devil surfing the emotion.

  He wrapped her in his arms, pulling her head into the crook of his neck. How had she, Pippa Renshaw, gotten so lucky?

  “I have to tell you, Ms. Renshaw, you have made me the happiest man in the whole … ” he kissed her on the forehead, “wide … ” the tip of her nose, “wonderful … ” and he dropped his warm full lips on hers in a hard kiss that promised more soon, “world today. I am going to discover the things that make you smile your sunny smile and laugh in that sexy way of yours. Once I know all your hot buttons, I will make sure that each and every one of them is pressed every day.”

  The look of tenderness on his face was the purest expression Pippa had ever seen, and it unfurled a flower deep within her, sending contentment and delightedness in each direction until her body was a mass of happiness.

  He pulled away from her only to sweep one arm under her legs to lift her up against his hard, masculine chest. A low growl turned the happiness to heat — molten lava that lapped at her core, sending shivers of anticipation rocketing through her.

  “Wait!” Pippa’s voice squeaked, her throat unnaturally tight. “My towel fell off!”

  “Woman,” Jonathon said as he glanced down at her, the tender look turning dark with desire. He didn’t break stride. “You won’t need that where we’re going.”

  About the Author

  Cait O’Sullivan is a romance author with a love of words and magic, having had the good fortune to grow up in Ireland. The wanderlust in her blood sent her out to travel the world and now, residing in a leafy suburb of London, it is her thoughts and memories that journey far and wide in order to create her stories.

  Learn more about her at:

  caitosullivan.blogspot.com

  To see her updates, come to:

  www.facebook.com/CaitOSullivanAuthor

  https://twitter.com/romanticait

  A Sneak Peek from Crimson Romance

  (From Taming the Stallion by Dorothy Callahan)

  She felt it straight down to her bones. Maybe it stemmed from working so closely with Mother Nature’s creatures, or maybe it was because of her years of job experience, or maybe even Angie watched out for her from the Great Beyond and still took care of her to this day, but Raylie knew the dreams were about to manifest into existence.

  Soon.

  Dead horses.

  Of late, they were always about dead horses.

  Raylie clenched her eyes shut and inhaled deeply, trying to erase the dream images that had plagued her these last two weeks as she turned her key in the black STAFF ONLY door. Cheddar spun and barked as he dashed around the empty lobby of the waking humane society, greeting each of her co-workers with his usual early morning vigor.

  At least one of them liked Mondays.

  That was only because Cheddar hadn’t written a single report in the whole twenty-four months of his life. And, of course, he remained blissfully devoid of prophetic dreams.

  The community corkboard showed a Thoroughbred mare for sale — a new posting. Two omens. Tomorrow, perhaps. Maybe even today. Not good.

  These days Raylie needed the extra motivation; after all, with Jim two months from retirement, and a juicy field chief spot opening up, Raylie needed all the arrests she could get. With the promotion she could pay off Angie’s house and move into the restored one provided by the shelter. Then, and only then, would she be able to move on with her life.

  “Hey, Ray.”

  The sound of hooves clomping inside drew her attention. She turned and smiled at the woman — in clogs, not horseshoes — walking past on the gray ceramic tiled floor, carrying an armful of donated towels. Omen Number Three. “Hi, Jen.” Raylie pulled open the door to the lit hallway and Cheddar raced on ahead.

  Only on Mondays did Raylie enter through the main lobby, instead of the staff entrance around back where her office was. She glanced around at the many furry faces, spurring herself to save more of the wee beasties, like Flotsam, the black kitty tossed into a dumpster, now up for adoption. Or Barnum, the English Bulldog, left behind when the owners moved out. Or even Miranda, the lop rabbit, whose owners went to jail for thirty days for setting her free in the local park.

  Many new homes were found here. But never enough.

  Raylie grimaced as she followed her orange and white linebacker down the hallway, reminding herself she couldn’t save all of them. She saved him, of course, her first month on the job. Twelve weeks old, half-starved, chewing on a tuna can. He’d been timid and fearful, with cuts on his soft pink mouth from the sharp edges.

  Her excitable Pit Bull now spun in front of the Cruelty Department door, stepping on his leash over and over, tripping himself in his eagerness.

  One warning bark — barely knee-high — issued from behind the door. Little footprints danced in the fluorescent crack.

  “You want ’im? You want ’im?”

  Happy toes clicked on the linoleum as Snort gave one more warning bark.

  “Go get ’im.” Ray whipped open the door.

  A fawn Pug leaped up at Cheddar, and her linebacker skidded to his shoulder in submission. “Coward,” she muttered.

  Snort postured over him, a burbling growl in his throat as Cheddar exposed his groin and looked away.

  “Snot,” she said as she brushed past.

  “Snort,” Leann, the department’s secretary, corrected automatically. As usual, she was early to work and ready to save lives.

  Ray grinned as the aroma of hazelnut teased her. “Snort, Snot. What’s an ‘r’ between friends?” She blew an air-kiss to the caged canary as she gave him fresh food and water. The bird had been found starving in a home after the owner died and was a new shelter resident. “He finally seems to be putting on weight. I thought we were going to lose him.”

  “He sang for a minute yesterday. Should be ready for adoption soon.” Leann was already listening to the phone messages as Ray glanced at the inbox on her adjacent desk. Hopefully she’d get to the paperwork tomorrow. Mondays were usually too busy, and the notes that Leann had already filled out were piling up on the corner. Leann glanced up. “You look like shit,” she said with her usual inter-friend tact.

  Raylie pointed to her head as she poured herself a cup of motivation. “Hair gel shower. Someone dumped a litter of kittens in my backyard.” She gave her a rueful glance. “Coaxed the last one out of the tree at three A.M.”

  Leann considered her. “I think I’ll make you a badge … ,” she made a circle with her hands, “ … ‘Defender of All Things Furry.’” Receiver to her ear, Leann smirked. Her black hair and dark eyes were far softer than her words. Everything about Leann, in fact, was gentle, from her long lashes to her fabrics. Even her soft curls sensibly bounced along her shoulders to frame her face. Although probably ten years older than Ray, she could pass for a college student. Leann frowned and wrote something down, announced, “Dead cat,” then pushed a button for the next message.

  Knowing she had a few minutes to spare, Raylie gathered up the guinea pig with a cast on its rear leg and snuggled him close. She slipped some fresh parsley from the office fridge under his nose and watched him tear into it. She leaned against her chunky wooden desk and watched Leann do her thing. “Had the dream again.”

  “Second hang-up,” Leann muttered, but then she looked up, and her shoulders dropped. “Again? That’s what, like ten times? I swear you’re psychic.”

  “Am not. Besides, it changed this time.”

  Leann cradled the receiver, giving Raylie her full attention. “More than the clean fluffy stalls?”

  “Yeah.” She returned the pig to his cage. “I was getting a lot of details this time. Weird. Like waxed hooves. Glossy coats. Braided manes. Really
healthy.”

  “Show horses.”

  She sipped her coffee, held her eyes. “Yeah.” She glanced into the corner. “And I could smell … ”

  “Horse dookie?” Her lips twitched.

  “No. Money.”

  That one word made Leann sit tall in her chair. “Your dream smelled like money? Girl, sign me up.”

  She merely shook her head. “It was really unsettling.”

  “What’s unsettling is how many animals you’re trying to cram in here. But, yeah, it is hard to arrest someone whose horses are sparking clean.”

  “They need me,” Raylie said, smiling at the turtle recovering from shell rot. “And, besides, what better place to have them heal than in the Cruelty Department? Isn’t that why we’re here? To help animals?”

  “Those animals.” Leann pointed out the window and smiled, then her expression turned playful. “This is why your dreams are so funky. That, and all those horse races you’ve been going to. You got to cut back.”

  Leann didn’t know this, but once Derrick died, Raylie hadn’t taken a single step near the beasts, unless her job demanded it. Even then, she was so incredibly tense she usually gave herself a headache.

  “Dang it, there goes my fun.” She drew some antibiotics into an oral syringe, went to the rabbit cage and squirted the strawberry-flavored goop into the New Zealand’s mouth. She checked the wound from the cuterebra and said, “Looks like it’s healed. Hopefully he’ll get an indoor home this time, away from botflies.”

  Leann’s tongue poked out of her mouth. “Maggots are so gross.” But then she brightened. “Oh, I need your phone number. You promised me you’d fill in for bowling, and my sister’s still off her foot.” Then Leann multitasked, shoving her a pad and pen and returning to her messages. The girl was good, Ray had to admit. ’Course, she was the first receptionist to run the department when it was created seven years back. Had it running like a hound on a coon’s scent by the time Raylie applied two years ago.