Leaving early Saturday morning, they cruised slowly, stopping first at Île Saint-Honorat in the Îles de Lérins, just minutes off the coast of Cannes.
Although the current monastery and vineyard were not open to the public, they were able to see the stark abbey with its medieval vestiges and the ruins of the fortified monastery, stunningly set on the sea edge.
“It is so peaceful here, Nick. So quiet . . . very Zen.”
Nick, turned tour guide once again, described how the monastery was founded in the fourth century and that Saint Patrick supposedly studied there in the fifth century.
“The fortified structure was built between the eleventh and fourteenth centuries, but of course, during the Revolution, the monastery was confiscated and became the property of the state. I shudder to think what happened to the poor monks! The church regained ownership in the mid-1800s and built this modern building then that is used today. I’ve heard there are about thirty or so Cistercian monks here now.”
Katherine smirked as she was reminded of the European definition of the word “modern.”
As they entered a small gift shop, he said, “For centuries, silent, humble, and ecologically minded, these monks have divided their time between prayer and sustenance. Today they produce all of this stuff—their own red and white wines, lavender oil, honey, and this”—he picked up a bottle—“an herbal liqueur, Lérina.”
“It looks kind of like Chartreuse,” said Katherine.
“It’s similar. Tastes a bit like Galliano too, but it can pack quite a punch! I’ve got some on board—the older, the better.”
“Look at these,” Katherine pointed to CDs for sale.
“They are well known here for their Gregorian chants, beautiful and haunting,” Nick said, selecting two to purchase.
Watching a few monks slowly walking in the distance in their distinctive bleached-white hooded habits, Katherine thought how the image gave a mystical feeling to the surroundings.
“It’s one of my favorite places to stop,” Nick told her.
“I can see why. I’m glad you brought me here.”
They returned to the boat for lunch, which Nick had already prepped.
“Here, Kat, you can help by shaving the parmigiano onto this beef carpaccio,” he said, placing two plates with scrumptious-looking paper-thin slices of meat arranged in a circular pattern with a clump of arugula in the middle.
“Mmm, looks delicious!” Katherine noted as she reached for the olive oil.
“That’s the secret,” Nick said, nodding at the oil.
The yacht slipped away from the dock and moved westward as they ate.
Along the Côte de l’Esterel with its rocky, red hills, west of Cannes, there were many beautiful, quiet coves.
After putting on bathing suits, they anchored midafternoon to snorkel and swim in a hidden inlet, free of any other boats, and unreachable by land.
Katherine had to admit, Nick looked pretty good in a bathing suit for a man his age. He had the kind of solid, compact body that wore clothes well, and there was something very sexy about his graying blond hair and tanned body.
Did I really think ‘sexy’?
She was enjoying the feeling that was growing stronger as they stood at the railing, their arms touching lightly. Taking her hand, Nick helped Katherine down to the platform at the stern of the boat, where they put on flippers, masks, and snorkels. Laughing at each other’s appearance, they slipped together into the sea.
The turquoise-edged deep blue water contrasted in the most striking way with the red sandstone rocks and hills of the massif behind that were dotted with brush and deep green pines.
Swimming in the warm water of such a protected lagoon was a sensuous experience, Katherine quickly realized. The salt water was liquid silk, as Nicked called it, and its crystal clear quality gave the fish and coral below a vivid clarity.
Resting her elbows on a floating mattress and slipping off her mask, Katherine shook the water from her hair and turned her face up to the sun. Swimming up from behind, Nick put his arms around her. Katherine quickly ducked underwater to the other side of the mattress. Nick’s action had brought back a very unpleasant memory of that night in the pool in Provence, and she had reacted with fear. Foolishly too, she thought.
“Whoa, what was that all about?” Nick asked. Embarrassed, Katherine was successful in laughing it off as nothing more than being playful.
“I was just being silly.” She knew her fear this time was the reaction to the exhilaration she felt from his being so close to her. She wanted it.
Nick leaned across from the other side to kiss the tip of her nose, her chin, and finally her lips, and Katherine leaned into each one.
“Is this paradise or what?” he asked.
“It has got to be pretty close,” she agreed. “Simply stunning.”
Back on an upper deck of the boat, they relaxed on soft-cushioned lounges as the course shifted across the bay. After bringing them each a large glass of water, Nick sat on the edge of Kat’s lounge and leaned across her. His eyes slowly worked their way up from her toes to her hair, desire clearly written on his face.
Katherine was wearing a white strapless suit that emphasized her toned body and smooth bronzed skin. She had to admit she felt good when she put it on.
“Do you know how gorgeous you are?”
Katherine smiled. “Nick, I’m heading for sixty. With all of these nubile young women around, I can hardly qualify as gorgeous.”
“It’s all in the eye of the beholder—and youth isn’t everything. You are a beautiful woman, Kat. You’re in great shape, and you’ve got a way about you that is incredibly enticing.”
She put her hand up to his lips, but he simply held it and continued. “You know how I feel about you. I don’t want to just be friends.”
Pulling her up by her hand, he slipped his arms around her and made his point with a kiss that was too good for Katherine to resist. The warm sun washing over their almost naked bodies only fueled his passion.
They continued to kiss while his hands caressed her body. She didn’t even think about stopping him, and kissed him back with increasing pleasure. His fingers lightly skimmed down her torso until they rested close to the warmth between her legs, sending a tremor of excitement deep inside Katherine. After a few minutes, he gently laid her back on the lounge, kissing the crest of each breast before he stood.
“We just passed second base, gorgeous.”
She smiled, pulling him close to her again, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m glad we did.”
His tongue traced a line from her chest to her ear, where he whispered huskily, “To be continued, sweet woman.”
Katherine felt pleasure rush into the pit of her stomach and did not want it to stop.
The moment was lost as Nick’s phone rang. Hesitating, he checked the call display and then excused himself, looking annoyed at the interruption. With Nick distracted by his Blackberry—something she had noted was a constant part of his routine—Katherine picked up her camera. Leaning on the railing, she carefully planned her next shot and tried to calm her still trembling hands.
Nick’s eyes followed her, but he remained caught up in his phone call.
As the village of Saint-Tropez seemingly began to rise out of the sea ahead of them, Katherine went to a higher deck to take photos of the colorful jumble of ochre, yellow, and pink village houses overlooked by the church tower and the hilltop citadel.
From a distance on the water, it still appeared to be the unassuming fishing village it once was. Drawing slowly into their mooring, that image was quickly dispelled.
Side by side all along the dock were yachts like Nick’s. Some smaller, some larger. All reeking of extravagance.
“It’s a different world,” Katherine observed quietly. “I’m not sure it’s mine.”
“Just put a cover-up over your suit now and bring a casual change of clothes. I’ve ordered a water taxi to take us to La Voile Rouge. We can swim th
ere, have dinner on the balcony, and watch the sunset. I reserved two lounges, so we’re good to go. Okay?”
“You’re the guide. I’ll be ready in a minute after I throw a few things in my bag and fix my makeup.”
As the water taxi headed out on the short run, Nick filled her in. “This is the original beach club in Saint-Trop, as the locals, the Tropéziens, call it, and it’s still the hottest ticket in town. It’s very French, and the clientele likes everyone to acknowledge that, so North American behavior really isn’t tolerated. The beach is small and beautiful. The food is outstanding. The parties can get wild.”
Katherine looked at him and raised her eyebrows in a questioning way.
“Don’t worry! You’ll see everything from kids to grandparents loving it there. If I’m going to show you what it’s like in Saint-Trop, this has to be our first stop.”
Nick was right about everything, Katherine thought to herself as they stumbled back down to the water taxi well after midnight. The beach, the atmosphere, the food, the sunset, the party. All magnifique.
The champagne certainly helped.
She giggled and put her finger to her lips to shush him, as Nick helped her onto Searendipity’s gangplank, singing loudly. Whirling her around the deck in a mock waltz step, he lost his balance, and they collapsed in a heap on a suede-covered couch.
“Oh Christ, Kat. I want you so badly,” Nick’s voice was muffled as he pressed his face into her neck and ran his hands through her hair. Without giving her a moment to respond, Nick kissed her passionately, his tongue seeking hers.
Katherine felt her last vestiges of resistance melt away. Her lips responded, parting.
The stars, the moon, the gentle lapping of water around the boat created the perfect ambiance.
Their mouths and fingers explored each other, and he guided her hand to feel just how ready he was.
Their clothes dropped to the floor as they fell back on the couch, Nick’s body covering Kat’s. His hand gently parted her legs as he kissed her breasts. His fingers stroked her, slowly at first and then more urgently.
The electricity of skin on skin, so foreign to her for so long, heightened Katherine’s passion as she ran her nails down his back and thrust her hips forward, inviting him in. Hurry, was all she could think. He slipped on a condom with obvious skill.
She hadn’t meant Hurry and finish, though. His deep thrusts had her burning with desire. After a quick explosive orgasm for both, they lay quietly entangled in the sweat of each other’s embrace. Moonlight spilled across them.
Katherine’s alcohol-induced languor kept her drifting in and out of sleep, but her foot rubbed along Nick’s leg as her desire grew again and she waited for him to respond.
Slowly she became aware of his deep breathing, which quickly turned into loud snoring. She sighed in frustration and, slipping quietly out of his arms, fumbled her way to bed, where she instantly passed out.
49
Kat was surfacing from a deep sleep when the commotion of voices reached her. Thanks to being overserved the night before, she took a few seconds to realize where she was. Opening her eyes slowly, she quickly shut them again as bright sunlight streamed through the porthole directly into her face.
Her body was reminding her of what had occurred just a few hours before. She squeezed her legs together as a warm sensation spread through her. It felt good. It was time.
She was jolted back to awareness by a loud knocking. Wrapping her housecoat around her, she opened her door to find Tim, the captain, with a worried expression.
“I’m sorry. Can you come up on deck, madam?”
“Is something wrong?”
“Just get dressed and come up, please.”
In a few minutes, Katherine climbed the stairs. Nick was standing at the end of the gangplank having a loud conversation with two police officers. A German shepherd on a lead stood beside one of them, looking strong and vigilant.
She watched Nick throw his hands up in exasperation and step aside as the officers and dog walked onto the boat.
“Kat, I’m sorry about this, but the gendarmes need to search the boat. Come and sit in the café across the street with me until they’re finished.”
“I’m just going to get my purse.”
One of the officers stopped her, took her arm, and shook his head. Nick stepped in and after much arguing, Katherine was allowed to get her purse, which was then thoroughly examined by the officers and sniffed by the dog before they returned it to her—minus her passport.
Nick took her hand as they walked across the street.
Over coffee, he told her he had gotten involved with some of the “wrong people” several months before. He claimed he hadn’t known they were part of a group running drugs out along the coast. After surviving a number of wild parties and observing some clandestine behavior, he suspected what was going on and actually went to England for two months in an attempt to break the connection.
“You know, they weren’t the skuzzy types you might imagine. They were an educated, refined, and good-looking bunch. I had a great time with them until I began to see beyond the surface. There were a few times when it became quite dangerous, and I was an idiot not to get out faster than I did.”
Obviously his name and boat information were still in the police computer. They made it clear they did not want him docked in their jurisdiction and were not going to let him leave until the boat had been checked thoroughly. He was also going to accompany them to the gendarmerie to deal with the inevitable bureaucratic paperwork.
“I swear I’m not involved with any of that shit in any way. I’m confident we’ll be able to leave soon. I’m really sorry we haven’t had time to explore the village.”
Katherine just shook her head and looked at him. “Don’t worry about that, Nick. This is terrible. I’ll feel better when I have my passport back.”
He nodded, repeating gruffly, “I’m very sorry.”
Following the officers off the boat some time later, Tim and Twig told Nick they were going to take a stroll through the village while he went to the station. Nick introduced them properly to Katherine, and they invited her to join them.
In spite of feeling fragile from her hangover, she found the hour wandering through the atmospheric old town to be a helpful distraction from the current unpleasantness. The couple knew the village well and regaled Kat with all manner of inside stories.
Tim and Twig were a cool couple with fascinating stories to tell of the years Tim had freelanced as a captain on the megayachts. Twig would go along as a cook or steward when the post was available. They had sailed the world, observing lifestyles most people could not even imagine. Twig suggested she and Katherine get together back in Antibes for some girl time. It was a pleasant interlude, but an undercurrent of forced casualness prevailed, causing Kat to wonder if there was more to the altercation with the police than Nick was letting on.
Nick called Tim from the gendarmerie to say the police wanted to speak with Katherine and they should report there immediately.
After a quick five-minute walk, Katherine was a bundle of nerves as she was gruffly ordered into a small room containing a desk and two chairs. Her lifetime of being a completely law-abiding, rule-following citizen had not prepared her for this type of experience. Knowing she had nothing to hide did nothing to relieve her instant anxiety. The questions were routine and straightforward, the interrogator speaking English with very little accent, yet Katherine felt threatened.
Tapping his hand with Katherine’s passport, he asked, “Where are you from, Madame Price? Where are you living in France? Why are you there? How do you know Monsieur Nicholas? When are you leaving France?”
Apparently satisfied with her responses, after what felt like an agonizingly long pause, the officer handed her passport back to her.
“Be very careful, Madame Price, who you choose as your friends,” he admonished with a stern look.
Feeling as though she had done something wrong, Kather
ine nodded slightly, her mouth locked in a tight line. Making a hasty exit, she hoped her fear did not show.
Back at the bar by the harbor, Nick ordered a beer. The thought of alcohol made Kat feel nauseous after her overindulgence, combined with the episode with the police.
Observing an exchange between Nick and Tim, she was surprised by Nick’s uncharacteristic anxiety. Something wasn’t quite right. Kat felt a sense of unease with the way the men looked at each other.
The voyage back seemed to take forever. Nick was in a fury over the incident and showed a side Katherine had never seen. He was constantly on his phone and on several occasions ended the conversations yelling at the top of his lungs.
Katherine tucked herself into a lounge chair on the upper deck by the hot tub and took out her Kindle. Concentration was impossible. Her simple, straightforward life in France momentarily seemed complicated.
Or is it really? she wondered.
What’s going on now is Nick’s problem, not mine. Just because we had sex last night—and that’s exactly what it was, sex—doesn’t change things. A fling is a frickin’ fling, to quote Molly. I just have to get my head around that.
She smiled, contemplating how Molly’s unique expressions of her life philosophy could be right on the mark. It also dawned on her how open she was, in her current single state, to actually listening to what Molly had to say. “Molly the Moaner,” James had called her, but Katherine could see now that was a complete misnomer.
Watching Nick move around the boat with his Blackberry pasted to his head, she had no trouble telling herself she was not falling in love with him. He was basically a nice guy, attractive, living in a completely different reality than most, and a friendship with him was all there needed to be.
Or maybe not, after this experience. This is a bit too scary for me. His lifestyle was not for her. She had partied in a champagne fog at La Voile Rouge, but if she never did that again, it would be too soon. Last night was alcohol-fueled lust, pure and simple, but it did feel good.
Feeling another aftershock from the fiery climax of their brief frenzy, she allowed the bliss to wash through her, momentarily erasing the confrontation with the police.
The Promise of Provence (Love in Provence Book 1) Page 36
