by Claire Adams
"Yes, sir. The chef grows it himself." The waiter nodded to a nearby man in a white coat.
I moved over to his table and complimented him on the taste. The chef looked at Ellison and hesitated to talk, but I got him into a whole conversation about growing his own herbs.
"The flavors are much richer," the chef said.
Ellison sighed and walked away. Moments later, Berger followed her.
"Thanks," I told the chef.
"You know we're on a boat, right? You can't escape," the chef said.
I assessed the glimmer in his eyes while his face was otherwise straight. "You know, I'm rich too."
"How's that going?"
I laughed and shook the chef's hand. "I'm starting to think I'd trade my fortune for a practical skill. At the end of the day, you've actually created things, and that has to feel good."
The chef graciously served two more guests and came back to join me. "It does feel good. It's never too late to learn. You interested in cooking?"
"Me?" I asked. "No. But recently I started to get into gardening."
The chef barely contained a snort. "You know how many of my clients demand fresh herbs and vegetables but won't even think of putting a few potted plants on a windowsill? No offense, but sometimes I wonder what you people do all day."
"None taken," I said.
It was an honest opinion, and as I looked around the yacht, I started to agree with the chef. Everyone was dressed in designer clothes with jewelry made to impress. Instead of noticing the delicious food, hand-crafted right in front of them, or the beautiful scenery of the San Francisco Bay, the ultra-rich were standing around only noticing those who noticed them.
Across the deck, Ellison gave me a come-hither glance. I held up another stuffed mushroom, and her perfect lips pursed tight. She turned back to a small knot of fawning admirers and ignored me.
"Well, I might be the only one, but I'm really enjoying your efforts. Thank you," I told the chef.
I scanned the room again and felt my heart sink. I was stuck on a yacht in a sea of my peers and couldn't see a single person I wanted to talk to. Except Tasha.
She was encouraging the first mate to tell her more about the unique features of Alcatraz Island. He was more than happy to oblige and leaned close as he pointed out landmarks. I handed my small plate to a passing waiter and set out across the crowded room.
"Hello, Rainer." The woman's voice was cool.
"Patricia, how are you?" I swallowed my irritation and focused on the redheaded woman. We'd had a passionate night after a product launch party, and I could tell she was surprised I knew her name. "How's your sick dog? The last time we were, ah, together, you had to rush home to give it antibiotics, right?"
Patricia blinked a few times. "That's right. Bingo's fine, thanks for asking."
I stood looking down at her as she hadn't moved, but she had nothing else to say. "I hope you enjoy the party," I said, stepping around her.
"It's not going to work, you know," Patricia said over her shoulder. She turned and nodded towards Tasha. "She's too good for you. Besides, she's been warned what you're really like."
"We had one night together. You don't know me," I said. I stalked away from her, my fingers curling into fists.
So, more people than I thought had noticed my interest in Tasha. No wonder I could feel eyes on me as I slowly wove my way through the party towards her. It took a lot of maneuvering, but I finally cornered Tasha near the small bar at the back.
Tasha eyed the narrow hallway next to her but decided to stand her ground. "I'm hearing rumors you might have a special announcement tonight," she said.
"What the hell," I muttered, missing at first the teasing light in Tasha's eyes. "Oh, right. Make fun of me. Like you won't have hundreds of men lining up to propose to you now that you've made billions."
"I've had three proposals so far tonight," Tasha said.
"Let me guess, the first mate? Watch out; you know the captain can marry people," I said.
"Oh, so is that what you have planned for Ellison?" Tasha asked.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her down the narrow hallway. She darted inside the first open door, hoping to dodge around me, but I blocked her way and shut the door behind us.
"I am not marrying Ellison Ramsey tonight, and I do not ever intend to marry her."
Tasha's irritated expression softened. "Okay. I was just teasing you, Rainer."
"Not a lot of people do that," I said.
She inched closer. "Why am I so different?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "If I could answer that I might feel sane again."
"You need your space," Tasha said, reaching around me for the door handle.
"I need you," I said. The scent of her hair knocked me back against the cabin door.
Tasha was only inches away, and she didn't pull back or roll her eyes. Instead, she studied my face, staring deep into my eyes before her gaze dropped to my lips.
"All I know is you’re different, Tasha. And that doesn't have to mean anything. I just. . . I just like being near you." I held my breath and wished I hadn't said any of that.
Then she kissed me.
My breath never came back, and, for a moment, I thought maybe I'd passed out and it was all just a crazy dream. Then Tasha's sweet lips parted and the kiss deepened. I swung her around and pressed her against the cabin door, pouring more gasoline on our already blazing desire.
I pulled back. "Are you teasing me?" I croaked.
Tasha giggled and then pushed against the door, pressing every inch of her body against mine. "Maybe a little."
I brought one shaky hand up to her cheek and held our gaze until her teasing smile faded away. The heat was still there in her eyes, so I kissed her again.
I wasn't surprised when Tasha pushed against my chest and slipped away from the door. Then she went to the cabin's queen-sized bed and looked back at me. I couldn't move, maybe I was drowning. Every reasonable voice in my head was screaming to take it slow. Tasha was different, and I couldn't just go through my regular motions. There was more between us than I had ever felt before, and it was starting to feel like a powder-keg in my chest.
"I'm not teasing anymore," Tasha said.
I was across the room in two long strides, and I caught her waist tight in my arms. "No. I'm not going to screw this up. And I'm not going to let you do this," I said, letting go.
"Do what?" Tasha asked.
"Trick me into acting like any other playboy on a yacht. I want to take things slow," I said.
Tasha scowled. "First off, you keep telling me that I'm different, but you still assume that I have the same opinion of you as everyone else."
"Because you keep reminding me!" I couldn't keep my voice down, then cringed. "I'm sick of my reputation. I'm trying to change; it's time for me to change, grow up, whatever you want to call it."
"So, you've got a lot to prove," Tasha said. "I know what that's like."
"Then how do you do it?" I paced around the spacious cabin, passed the glowing lights of the Bay Bridge outside the windows.
"I figure out what I want, and then I go after it," Tasha said.
I turned just as she wrapped both arms around my neck. Her kiss wobbled my knees and I gasped for breath between her lips. "And what do you want?" I asked.
"You."
I shook my head though my hands wouldn't let go of Tasha. "No. No way. Someone will hear. We're on a yacht full of people just dying to find a scandal to talk about."
The chandelier above us rattled. A searing note reached us even in the private cabin and I wanted to shake a fist at my luck. Up on the main deck, the A-list performer grabbed the mic and shouted out a long list of compliments to his generous hosts. Then the drummer kicked off a heavy rhythm and the bass player was close behind. The door jam pulsed with the music, and I could barely hear myself think.
Tasha laughed. "What was that you were saying about someone hearing us?"
I struggled to tak
e a deep breath as she walked over to the cabin door and casually locked it. Tasha was right. There was no way anyone would hear us over the lively performance.
"Someone's going to notice we're gone," I said.
"All eyes are on stage. Guaranteed. That's what Berger paid for," Tasha pointed out.
I held up both hands as she approached me again. "Why? Why do you want me?"
Tasha's eyes narrowed and her head tipped as she assessed our conversation like a business negotiation. With a slight nod, she decided it was best to tell me her reasons because she believed they might be common ground. A good starting place: "I want to have sex with you again because I think it'll help us both get this out of our systems."
I wanted to bash my head against the porthole window. She had voiced the very same argument I had used to justify sleeping with her in the first place. "Tasha, you can't be serious," I said.
Her chin tipped up. "Why not? Men get to have sex like that all the time."
I held up my hands again. "I'm not being sexist. I just want you to think about it."
Tasha shook her head. "I don't want to think. That's the whole point. If I just let myself feel this, then maybe it will subside."
My head spun over the fact that she was feeling something between us too. "It won't work," I said. "I've already tried it."
That stopped her. "You slept with me to get me out of your system?" she asked.
I nodded. "It made things worse. It made me want you even more."
A darker shade of expression veiled Tasha's eyes. She was worried, but her body seemed to be reacting on its own. She took a step forward, hesitated, and then flew back into my arms. Her kiss burned away any resistance that either of us felt. I tried to hold on, reminding myself where we were and what the crowd was like just down the hall. But, it didn't matter. The band raced into another pulsing song, and I lost control.
Tasha and I fell together onto the queen-sized bed. Her dress slipped off to reveal a sheer slip that ignited my blood. As her hands peeled off my suit coat and plucked loose my shirt, I tossed her dress over the back of a chair and let my lips skim the silk of her slip, and then her skin.
"This is what you want?" I asked.
Tasha nodded, tugging me up to kiss her again. I told myself to be careful of her hair, to be gentle, but her hips rose to meet me and all thought erased. Fireworks exploded from the back deck of the yacht and glittered down past our window.
#
The only reason I knew years hadn't passed since I raised my head was the fact that the band was still thumping away up on the main deck. I laid on my back staring at the long stretch of Golden Gate Bridge drifting past the porthole window.
Tasha sat up and reached for her dress.
"Did it work?" I asked.
"Funny," she said, "I never took you for insecure."
I sat up. "I meant did you get me out of your system?"
She glanced over her shoulder and then tugged her dress back into place. "I better get back to the party."
I raced to get dressed before she got to the cabin door. "What's the plan? Want me to go first and then text you the 'all clear?'"
Tasha straightened her shoulders and looked me dead in the eye. "I'm not going to skulk out of here like I did something wrong. Women are just as capable of having flings as men."
I pressed a hand to the door. "So, I'm a fling now?"
"You're in my way, that's what you are right now." She tugged open the cabin door but took a second to peek into the hallway before she left.
I could have stayed in the cabin all night trying to sort out what had just happened, but I was worried about Tasha. Was she upset? Had her little experiment worked and she was completely over me? I counted to sixty at a furious pace and then slipped out the cabin door and back down the narrow hallway.
Tasha turned away from the bar, where she had wisely stopped to make it look like she'd been there all along, and then she plunged into the crowd. Most people were aimed at the main deck where the music was still blasting. I grabbed a drink and followed the flow. Tasha's head bobbed across the room from me and I did my best to look casual while I tracked her.
I had to change course when Patricia caught my eye. She frowned at me, and it took all my restraint to smile back at her. Sure, my reputation was my fault, but the bitterness I felt from her wasn't helping. I hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do. And it wasn't like she'd ever called me again. I wondered if Tasha was going to be the same. I made my way out onto the deck where I could still see Tasha through the windows.
It was quieter on the back deck, and I could hear normal, non-scandalous conversations going on all around me. I took a deep breath and realized I felt great. Underneath all the complications, I was happy, and I hoped that Tasha felt it too.
Stan caught me as I released a satisfied sigh. "You seem relaxed. Glad the GroGreen project is finally done?" Stan asked.
"No," I said. "It was nice feeling like I was actually contributing. You know, instead of just being this playboy cartoon Hyperion trots out to appease the media."
"Oh, so it's all an act now, is it?" Stan asked. He planted his feet on the deck and looked me square in the eye. "You honestly think anyone is going to believe you've changed?"
I ground my teeth. Stan had a soft spot for Tasha. Beyond the rumors of a May-December romance, everyone at the office knew that Stan was grooming Tasha as his protege. Still, the way he looked at me made me think he knew more about Tasha's life than what happened in the office.
"Maybe it's people's perception of me that's changing," I said.
Stan chuckled, but there was no smile in his stern expression. "Well, either way, the GroGreen project is finished, and Tasha is moving on. Time for you to attach yourself to someone else."
"The media campaign might be over, but the application is still out there. The community garden idea is still out there, and I hear it's expanding," I said.
"Yes. I heard a private investor created a fund to help maintain community gardens all across the East Bay." Stan looked at me hard and then softened slightly. "I know Tasha would never be so frivolous, but she'll be happy to know someone did it."
I glanced out across the bay, irritated that Stan had seen through me so easily. "Someone who wants to remain anonymous."
"Good," Stan said. "Anonymous doesn't get in the way. Anonymous leaves Tasha alone because she deserves a chance to pursue her career without useless complications."
He flagged down a waiter, ordered two strong whiskeys, and then left me to wait at the railing until the yacht headed back to shore.
Chapter Fifteen
Tasha
I congratulated myself on getting to my office without breaking into a cold sweat. I expected to see Rainer around every corner, and, no matter what I told myself, I wasn't ready to face him. The rest of the weekend I had assured myself that I'd done the right thing. Now, maybe Rainer had gotten an idea of how his one-night stands felt, and I had gotten him out of my system.
I made it all the way to my temporary assistant's desk before my stomach dropped through the floor. On her computer was an entire photograph album from Berger's yacht party and Rainer was featured in many of the glamorous shots.
"Isn't he dreamy," Amy said. She noted that I was rooted to the floor next to her desk and jumped at the chance to give me her full opinion. "Ellison Ramsey has to be the most elegant woman I've ever seen. And she's going to marry Mr. Maxwell - that practically makes us family!"
"I'm not sure you should believe all the rumors," I said.
Amy shook her head. "No. They are definitely a power couple. Check this picture out."
I took a deep breath and held it before I faced my assistant's computer screen. Ellison did look glamorous, her perfect smile and stunning jewelry out-sparkling the San Francisco skyline behind her. Rainer was next to her, and I forced myself to look at his face. His public relations smile was set in place, but his gaze was far off camera. Was he searching the c
rowd for me?
My stomach did a funny little hop, and I bolted into my office. "Busy day for me," I told my assistant. "No calls this morning."
I dropped into my desk chair and stared at my blank computer screen. I only turned it on so I wouldn't see my own sullen face anymore. How was I supposed to convince Rainer was fine when I couldn't even smile?
I distracted myself by meticulously combing through my emails. It was cathartic to start at the bottom and delete all the old business that was already tied up. Then I got to the top of my inbox and saw the email from Stan about the community garden funding.
Someone had donated enough money to spread the campaign through the entire East Bay.
I snatched up my desk phone and dialed Ivy's number. "Are you the anonymous donor?" I asked as soon as my friend picked up.
"No, but it sounds intriguing. Tell me more," Ivy said.
My mind veered away from the obvious suspect, but I just had to ask, "Have you ever had sex with someone to get them out of your system? And did it work?"
"Oh, Tasha!" Ivy burst into laughter and gave herself a moment to calm down. Then she gave a rueful sigh and said, "Do you want my honest answer?"
"Yes, of course," I said.
"Fine. Then you're going to have to tell me who and what this is all about." Ivy's laugh bubbled through again. "The last time we talked you were going on a date with that hunky landscaper."
I groaned and leaned as far back as my creaky office chair would allow. "Yeah, that didn't really work out so well. He told me he didn't think I was over Rainer, and we left as friends."
"Yikes," Ivy said. "So, let me guess: this is about your dashing co-worker?"
"We're not even on the same project anymore. I mean, maybe we are now that someone funded community gardens for the entire East Bay," I said.
"So, you thought you'd sleep with him and that would be the end of it?" Ivy asked.
"Maybe it just hasn't set in yet." I tried to be hopeful. "You never did anything like that to get someone out of your system?"
Ivy smothered another laugh. "I tried, but it didn't work."
