by Cherry Adair
Eight
Addison came to the dining room early, purposely sitting at the far end of the table, knowing Naveen would sit on her left. No one was on her right, because she’d asked Oscar to remove the two head chairs. She knew Rydell. At the end and foot of the table for the duration, they’d end up as “Mom” and “Dad” for meals. She’d taken that option off the table. Literally.
Normally Addison preferred eating all her meals outside on the middle deck where a small table was placed closer to the galley. When in port she liked to watch the bustle of happy human activity. When at sea she relished the peace. Tonight she anticipated getting neither.
Usually she had flowers and candles on the table even when dining alone. But tonight she’d instructed no frills. There was nothing romantic about dinner on board with this many people. The pale-turquoise place mats and simple white china looked just as pretty in the bright overhead lights.
With Naveen, Rydell, and the five-member dive team to feed and a hard rain pelting down, tonight they’d eat family-style in the dining room while the weather gods raged outside. She’d get even less peace inside with her ex-husband and current boyfriend in the same room.
She’d taken the time—forced herself—to go and say hi to the dive team shortly after they’d arrived that afternoon. Reconnecting hadn’t been as traumatic as Addison had dreaded.
Lenka Swanapoel had greeted her with a bear hug. He still wore his bright-red hair in a buzz cut, and his pale, freckly skin flushed when she hugged him back. He was as sweet and exuberant as a puppy. “You good, Skattie?” he asked, blue eyes concerned and South African accent thick with emotion. He’d always called her “Little Treasure,” and tears stung the backs of Addison’s eyes hearing the nickname again
She smiled up at him. “Getting there.”
“My turn.” Samuel Hildebrandt shoved Lenka out of the way and gave her a friendly hello kiss on the cheek. Shlomo Bergson was next, giving her a tight hug like a child seeing his lost teddy bear at last. Holding her away from him he scanned her face, his swarthy cheeks flushed with emotion. “We love you, Addy. All of us.”
“Thank you, MoMo.”
Georgeo Arcuri, sexy Italian that he was, let his lips linger as he kissed her hand with a flourish, and her friend Kevin Hill, with tears glistening in her eyes, hugged Addison tightly enough to squeeze the breath out of her.
It had felt good. Better than good. No one mentioned the last time they’d been together, and within a few minutes the trepidation disappeared. They’d all been friends. Once. She hoped they could be again. Having everyone in the dining room this evening would dilute what was sure to be an uncomfortable meal. She hoped that at the least, Rydell could remain civil.
Standing near the door, Rydell—dressed only in black board shorts and attitude—flaunted his broad, tanned shoulders, washboard abs, and impressive biceps. Really? Not even a nod to a freaking shirt? The man loved being naked or almost naked. The problem was, Addison lov—used to love his body. He had a great body, damn him.
She resented the fact that he knew she’d always had a weakness for his chest and arms, and back and abs and—damn it. He’d never looked better. Tall, with mile-wide shoulders, tawny skin stretched taut across his chest, and defined abs, the whole package that was Rydell Case looked … desirable.
Addison clenched her fingers in her lap as he disappeared from view to dig through the ice in the cooler while everyone milled around finding a place to sit for dinner.
He held a bottle of local beer aloft. “I’m sure there’s wine, but anyone want a beer?” He passed bottles of the icy Kingfisher to those who held out a hand. The perfect host.
The only damn problem was her ex was not the host on this voyage. Not that it made any difference to the current company. The dive team had always looked up to Rydell. He was a born leader.
With the dark scruff on his jaw, and his hair tied back, he looked bad-boy-rocker cool, or sexy pirate. All he needed was an earring and a cutlass clamped between his strong white teeth.
He was relaxed as he joked with the team. What was he so damn smiley about? Addison wanted to stab him with her fork. But that wouldn’t deliver the kind of pain she experienced on a daily basis. He’d never feel that kind of pain. Wasn’t capable of feeling that depth of emotion. And oh, God, she resented the hell out of him for that alone. She hated that he had continued his life as if nothing bad had ever touched him.
He was healthy, happy, getting exactly what he damn well wanted without any freaking effort at all. While for her it was frequently more than she could manage to act like a normal human being, let alone smile. One day at a time. She’d been told that it became easier. Of course everyone saying that didn’t have a damn clue because they themselves had never lost their child. But she didn’t want it to be easier. Easier meant she’d forget Sophia. Forget the smell of her milky breath, and the powdery scent of her skin … It was an effort to breathe.
Addison gave herself a mental shake. Be present.
Chairs pulled out, beers opened, everyone found a seat. Naveen, who’d dressed for dinner in his customary white slacks paired tonight with an olive-colored silk T-shirt, skirted the table to come to her side. He smelled of Versace Eros cologne, a fragrance she liked, but not when newly applied with a heavy hand and in such close confines. In sum, not tonight.
A brief, involuntary glance across at Rydell reminded her of his pure, natural scent. Salt water. Fresh air. Clean skin. His pheromones. The most powerful aphrodisiac ever. She hated him for affecting her so easily.
“Are you settled in?” she asked Naveen under the sound of voices, furious with herself for reacting to her ex’s nudity.
“Azm is unpacking as we dine,” Naveen told her, indicating that Fahad could fill his wineglass. He waited for the steward to move away before he said, sotto voce, “I must say, Addison, I’m most displeased you chose to place Case in my usual cabin.”
His “my usual cabin” sent up a warning signal that she chose to ignore. They were practically engaged, after all. “I’m with you. He should be in Outer Mongolia instead of here. But here he is. I didn’t place him anywhere. He took over the space without permission. Consider him a squatter till we reach Sydney.” She smiled to soften her tone. When Nav’s eyes lingered on her smile, his scowl softened. His eyes returned to hers, with a trace less animosity. “It’s only for a few weeks.”
She accepted him for what most people didn’t see. A generous heart and a kindness he hid very well. He could be arrogant, selfish, and childish when he sulked, but instead of his behavior annoying her, she just found it amusing and laughed at him to his face when he got carried away. Perhaps it was because in contrast with Hollis, Naveen seemed almost normal.
Addison was used to moving in rarefied social circles, and had been since birth. She didn’t apologize for being born with platinum and diamond spoons in her mouth, either. Her wealth didn’t define her the way Naveen’s did; that wasn’t who she was. She rarely thought about her net worth.
Georgeo, instead of Rydell, took the chair directly opposite her, thank goodness. Addison let out the little breath she’d been holding. The only empty seat left was at the other end of the table, far enough away that she wouldn’t have to make banal dinner conversation or, worse yet, share intimate words with Rydell.
“You know I’d be more comfortable sharing your cabin, darling.” Naveen leaned in close. His tone was intimate, but she was pretty damn sure everyone heard him and that it was more for their benefit than hers. He curled his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, his eyes carrying the pending question that no longer needed words. His chest was hard, his arms strong. He always dressed appropriately and adored her. Why was she having such a damn hard time telling him yes?
“I’m not ready,” she said, quietly enough to reach only his ears. “I’ll give you my answer in Sydney, I promise.” She touched his smooth-shaven jaw with her fingertips. “Would you please be your usual, civilized self f
or the duration, Nav? That will really help. Having”—she was about to say Rydell, but changed it to—“all these people on board is stress enough without having tension between us.”
He turned her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm. “Your wish is my command.”
Addison extricated her hand from his as she shot him an honest look of gratitude. Naveen Darshi was a good, decent man. Proud, arrogant at times, as was natural for a prince, but good. He’d been with her in her darkest hours, and hadn’t disappeared when the going got tough, even with all the times she’d gently rebuffed his advances. He couldn’t understand why they’d been lovers before, but not now.
She could’ve told him that just because she didn’t have Rydell’s ring on her finger anymore, didn’t make her feel less married to him. Still, she was a divorced woman. She should just bite the bullet and tell Naveen yes now.
Checking that her dinner guests were in place, she indicated that Oscar could bring in the meal, leaving the second steward, Fahad, to pour wine for those who wanted it. Most were drinking beer.
Annoyingly sexy and appealing, Rydell pulled out the remaining empty chair between MoMo and Samuel and sat down. Diagonally across from Addison, and almost at the opposite end of the long table. While they were at a safe distance for conversation, it did nothing to keep him from looking in her direction. Their eyes met.
Nothing warm and comforting and safe about this exchange. There was heat, regret, anger, frustration all mixed together into a storm behind sharp, stormy gray eyes.
Addison refused to play chicken and maintained eye contact.
“Why is this particular shipwreck so important that you had to commandeer Addison’s ship so precipitously, Case?” Naveen unfolded the paper napkin with care, as if it were the finest linen, and placed it on his lap. “Couldn’t the salvage wait until you had your own ship? What happened to the Sea Dragon, by the way?”
Addison tore her attention away from Rydell. She imagined losing Sea Dragon had punctured his self-confidence, and he wouldn’t want Naveen to perceive him as weak. “It was hijacked five months ago,” Rydell told him, his tone flat. “And the reason we’re salvaging the Nicolau Coelho is because it’s there, and I’ve already staked my claim on it. Salvage is how I make my living, Darshi. I wasn’t born with a silver crown on my head. Detouring to the Maldives is merely a short pause on the way to Sydney.”
“If you were in such dire financial straits, all you had to do was call me. I could have floated a loan for an interest in the salvage,” Naveen said, his words silencing the room. Lower, he added, “A partnership, so to speak. You on your own ship, even one that you rented, just seems like a better option than disrupting Addison’s plans.” Arm draped over Addison’s shoulders, he pulled her a little closer. “Our plans.”
Permafrost eyes sent Naveen a chilling look. Addison held her breath, waiting for Rydell’s answer. “I didn’t need an investor three years ago, and I don’t need one now, Darshi.”
Was that the truth? After her conversation with Callie the other day, Addy was beginning to suspect that this salvage was critical. He wouldn’t have gone to such extreme measures unless he was over-the-top desperate. “Legally,” he said smoothly, “this is my ship and I’m using it for its intended purpose.” He gave the prince a slight smile, with not a trace of humor. “This will only delay your arrival by a few weeks.”
“A few…” Naveen leaned closer to Addison so that Oscar could place the hors d’oeuvre course, a small plate of crisply fried samosa triangles, in front of him. The few seconds gave him time to modulate his tone. “It’s terribly inconvenient, not to mention disruptive,” he informed Rydell. “Your wreck has been at the bottom of the ocean for centuries. It’s not going to move while you find another ship for your salvage.”
“Fortunately I have a ship, so I don’t have to waste time making your life more comfortable, Darshi. The Tesoro Mio is half min—”
“We have an important appointment in Sydney a week from Tuesday.” Naveen made the mistake of challenging Rydell. A bad, bad move.
“You won’t make it, if you insist on staying aboard Tesoro Mio,” Rydell told him, his tone chilling several degrees. “And the impending storm could delay us by several more days. You’ll just have to be stoic and enjoy our hospitality awhile longer.” He paused a beat. “Or take your second option.”
Naveen twisted his head to glance at the rain beating against the floor-to-ceiling windows at his back, then turned around again. “A little rain won’t delay a ship of this size, surely?”
Rydell’s lips twitched before he took a swig from his frosty beer bottle. “Captain Seddeth let me know earlier that we’re in for a major storm in a couple of hours.” This time he addressed the table at large. “Worst-case scenario, we’ll hit the tail end before midnight.”
Why was her captain telling Rydell about the storm before telling her? It was petty and small of her to be annoyed. She had bigger concerns than Seddeth telling Rydell instead of herself about rough weather. She concentrated on enjoying the crisp, pastry-wrapped veggies dipped in spicy tamarind chutney.
They were already experiencing moderate swells and a light chop, with pellets of rain lashing at the windows. Fortunately Tesoro Mio had excellent ballast and state-of-the-art stabilizers, but severe wave action would still be felt if the large ship rose and fell with rougher seas in the heart of the storm later.
The dive crew, having just met Naveen for the first time, looked from one to the other, as if expecting the big blowout swirling under the surface of the conversation to erupt at any moment. It wasn’t just the impending storm making the atmosphere thick enough to chew.
“The Nicolau Coelho was a caravel, right? Not a balinger?” Kev adroitly inserted. Addison wanted to hug her for attempting to diffuse the tension by talking business.
“Yeah, a caravel.” Rydell took a small bite of his samosa, which he liberally dipped in the tamarind sauce to obliterate the taste of curry. “It was a long trip from Portugal to India, and balingers were fragile with only one mast and fixed square sails.” He took a couple of sips of his beer to wash down his food. He really hated curry.
He used his thumbs to push his plate away. “The Portuguese developed the caravel based on their existing fishing boats. They were agile and easier to navigate, with a tonnage of fifty to sixty tons. They had anywhere from one to three masts—the Nicolau Coelho had three. Being smaller with a shallow keel, they could sail in shallow coastal waters with lanteen sails. And with square, Atlantic-type sails attached, they were highly maneuverable and very fast. They were the best sailing vessels at the time.”
“No Suez Canal back then, so they went around Cape Horn, right?” MoMo observed as Lenka indicated Rydell’s samosa and gestured to himself. Rydell nodded, and the other man switched plates, almost inhaling Rydell’s leftovers.
“To where?” MoMo continued, picking up his beer but not drinking. “Must’ve had something to do with spices, right?”
“The where, Goa, was located in the southwestern region of India.” Rydell glanced fleetingly Addy’s way. He was either looking at her or gauging Naveen’s reaction to what he was going to salvage. “They were loaded with silver to buy precious spices, turmeric, ginger, pepper, cardamom. But word was they’d taken on diamonds while at the Cape.”
There was silence as everyone digested that. “There are diamonds on board your wreck?” Naveen asked, sounding interested in Rydell’s business for once. Maybe he really did hope to invest. Addison doubted that Rydell would want Naveen as an investor; besides, at this point of the salvage, investors would’ve already signed on and contracts been drawn up.
She wasn’t crazy about the idea of the two men becoming partners on any level. Addison sipped her wine and let the conversation about the upcoming dive flow around her. It was a familiar scene: Rydell and his dive team, food forgotten, surrounded by piles of charts and the monitors ready to watch the action below the water when the salvage started. It was odd to
be there. Part of, but apart from, the team’s excitement.
Rydell leaned back in his chair and draped his arm casually over the back of Sam’s chair beside him. “Diamonds are on the manifest, yeah.”
The ship did a little roll, and a flash of lightning turned the room white for an instant. Addison loved storms, the majesty of thunder and lightning. Rydell’s eyes returned to her face briefly. She remembered a night they’d stood, watching jagged flashes of light zigzagging in the sky, lighting the turbulent waters of the Gulf of Mexico, while wrapped in each other’s arms. Some of their most passionate lovemaking had been during the most dramatic storms.
Naveen asked about the estimated value of the diamonds. Lost in her memories, Addison didn’t hear Rydell’s answer. A low-pressure system had settled over the Gulf. The stormy weather had prevented him from diving. They’d spent most of the following week in bed, or watching the rain as it pounded the waves. They’d conceived Sophia that week. Addison had never felt as safe or as loved.
She wished for a few moments of that bliss again. She wished … Closing her eyes she rode the pain until it became bearable. When she opened them again, Rydell was watching her again. Still? His expression was closed. She looked away, pretending to listen to Naveen.
Although the prince faced her and looked lovingly into her eyes as he spoke, she couldn’t focus on him. His words had no definition, no meaning. It was like hearing a cartoon character speaking. Wha wha wha wha wha.
Oscar returned with a wheeled dinner cart, the smell of deliciously spicy curry wafting into the room as he approached the table. Addison’s mouth watered, but when she glanced up, as if compelled to do so by a force beyond her control, it was to observe Rydell glancing down the length of the table, locked on Naveen with the intensity of a heat-seeking missile. “Captain says you’d be clear to use the chopper to get back to Mangalore if you leave within the hour, Darshi.”
“Thank you,” Naveen said politely as he absently stroked his pinkie across the back of Addison’s hand lying on the table between them. “I prefer to stay here with Addison.”
