An Honorable Surprise

by Sally Graham

  “Is your guitar special? It looks as though it is quite old.”

  “It’s not especially old, but it is special,” Simon said, reaching down and picking up the guitar again. “It was made in Spain, of course - the home of classical guitar music, it seems to me. It was made by Jose Ramirez. He founded a company that’s world famous for its instruments. They have been making them for over a hundred years. Here - you hold it.”

  Tamara took the instrument from him carefully. “It’s very light,” she said, but the workmanship is amazing.”

  “It’s true. Look at the intricate pattern running around the edge and in the middle under the strings. Fantastic workmanship.”

  Tamara noticed that his voice had changed. Rather than the voice of a man used to giving directions, Simon was talking softly.

  “The polished wood is beautiful,” she said.

  “It’s the type of wood, and the shape, that makes a guitar truly great. Even a poor guitarist sounds professional playing one of these - as you can tell!”

  “Stop doing yourself down. You played beautifully.”

  She saw him flush with embarrassment. I wonder if anyone acknowledges him for talents other than making money?

  He took the guitar back and placed its case before shutting the lid gently. “A lot of people think the guitar is just for pop and modern music,” he said brusquely, “but I think it’s sometimes more expressive than words.” He stood up and looked at her. Those eyes again.

  “I don’t really like playing for people,” he said quietly. “It’s a way I relax. It helps me to get perspective on business hassles. Music has a calming effect on me. I sensed you had come into the room - maybe I caught your shadow out of the corner of my eye. But it didn’t disturb me. I felt ok about playing … for you….” His voice trailed off.

  God, he’s really opening up.

  “I could have listened to you for ages” she answered truthfully. “The music seemed to just, oh, just flow towards me,” she finished lamely. “Oh God, doesn’t that that sound so feeble?”

  “You’re the last person on this planet to be feble,” Simon said, looking at her. Oh, God, those eyes. He reached up and gently brushed a lock of hair away from her face. “You know, this trip is turning out to be different to any of the others I’ve done. I’ve always had someone with me before, but I didn’t have any illusions about them. They were all nice girls, and fun to be with, but we never had any real conversations. They just wanted the bright shiny toys I could provide.”

  His voice is so sexy, and if he moves an inch closer to me I’m going to melt, I swear.

  “Simon -“

  “Shhh - don’t talk. Let’s believe in the music.” And pulling her towards him, he kissed her tenderly, his lips burning hers, before he ceased, and held her tightly.

  Tamara froze. I can’t handle this. I’m not ready.

  “Let’s have a real vacation together,” he whispered, stroking her back. “We can forget how this thing started and just start over.” His mouth moved down her neck, drinking her scent and the warmth of her skin, hot from her sunbathing.

  Tamara felt her body responding as Simon kissed her skin so lightly, first her neck, and then her shoulders, his lips so gentle, his movement so unhurried. She sensed a fluttering in her stomach that she thought had long gone, that anticipation of passion, the hint, even, of sexy delight. Is this happening?

  “Ahhh - “ she moaned, pressing her body against his, and then hungrily seeking his mouth with hers, and kissing him deeply and with increasing urgency. Don’t stop…. Please….don’t…. ever…. stop.

  “Where do we go from here?” he whispered, “I thought I had a path I was following, but suddenly it’s all up in the air. What are you doing to me?”

  “It’s hard for me too,” Tamara answered. “I never expected this. I never thought that we might - “

  “Yes?” he said, “Might what? I hope you aren’t having naughty thoughts, Miss Tremaine!” and he laughed teasingly.

  “Don’t be unfair - you started it!” she cried, pushing him away playfully. “You’re just a billionaire who wants anything he can get his hands on!”

  “Hey, whoa! You may be right, but I do have excellent taste, you know!” Simon stepped back and looked out of the French windows. “It’s going to be dark soon and this unexpected intimacy is making me hungry. Why don’t we eat out on the patio in the twilight? Then I won’t be able to see how scarlet your face is! Besides which, I need to tell you something.”

  “Sure - it’s lovely and warm. We can enjoy the view.”

  As they finished their salamis and beautifully prepared fish, Tamara noticed a sleek, modern yacht nosing into the bay and mooring below them. “Wow - what a fantastic boat. It’s huge. Amazing.”

  “Yes - it’s one of the largest privately owned boats in the Mediterranean at the moment,” Simon answered lazily. “Belongs to a Russian oligarch, I think.”

  Tamara looked at him curiously. “How do you know that?”

  He pushed his chair back. “Because I got your company to find it for us. That girl in your office is almost as efficient as you are, you know. You need to be careful: you’ll be out of a job when you return!”

  “What do you mean? This boat isn’t on our - on your - itinerary.”

  Simon laughed. “Exactly, Tamara. I’ve changed my mind. Up to now, apart from a few hours sunbathing, you’ve had your head buried in your folders, ticking boxes and checking standards. Not much of a holiday. Also, you can only really enjoy the Amalfi coastline from the sea, so we’re going to go cruising for a couple of days. Don’t worry - you won’t get sea-sick!” He glanced at his watch. “You’d better go and pack your things - a launch will pick us up in an hour.”

  “Simon? I was just beginning to relax - you don’t seem to relax for a moment. We’ve been on the move from the moment we left Sydney,” Tamara said angrily.

  “Don’t be ungrateful! I’m on a working holiday you know.”

  Chapter 8

  “God, it’s huge,” Tamara said as they approached the yacht, its lights glittering on the water. Their motor launch slowed and they could hear its companion behind them carrying their baggage and Simon’s team.

  Just as Tamara was wondering how they were going to climb on board, a panel at the rear of the yacht slid upwards so that they could steer straight inside.

  “This is unreal” she said to Simon who was getting ready to disembark.

  “It beats walking across a wobbly gang plank to get on board, doesn’t it?” he laughed, as he shook hands with a ship’s officer.

  “Welcome aboard, Mr Henty. And, er, Madam.”

  “Oh - this is Ms Tremaine. Didn’t you have her details?”

  “We were told to expect a companion, sir, but the person liaising with us did not have her name.” The officer turned to Tamara, my apologies, Ms Tremaine - a pleasure to have you with us.”

  Simon frowned. “Rather forgetful of your company, isn’t it? Surely they knew you were here?”

  Tamara thought quickly. Of course, Donna thinks I’m in Byron Bay . “I had a call from New York about your possible investment in Square Circle,” she said. “It wouldn’t look good if we were seen together, would it?”

  “Ms Tremaine - you never cease to surprise me,” Simon answered. “Your discretion is worthy of a banker! Maybe we have more in common than you thought? But you’re right. OK, let’s find our way around this floating palace and make ourselves at home.”

  They followed the officer to the end of the dock and stepped into an elevator.

  “These keys allow you to stop at any deck you wish,” the steward said, handing them swipe cards. “We’ll go up to the main deck and find your cabins. Your luggage should be unpacked already.”

  Tamara rolled her eyes at Simon as the elevator doors slid shut, but he stared ahead impassively, oblivious to her this-is-completely-over-the-top expression.

  They stepped out into a cool breeze, and the low throb of th
e engines told Tamara that the yacht was beginning to pull away.

  “Don’t get cold,” Simon said. “We’re only moving a few miles down the coast and then we’ll anchor for the night.”

  “Look at that, it’s almost full,” Tamara said, leaning against the teak rail, staring up into the starry darkness at the luminous moon.

  Simon looked up too. “So it is - isn’t there something about ‘wishing on a moon’?” Let’s hope the weather stays good.”

  “That’s a very boring wish,” Tamara said, turning to him. “Can’t you do better than that?”

  Simon slid his hand along the wooden rail in reply and rested it on hers. “I wish….. I wish that we might get to know each other better,” he said hesitantly.

  God - does he really mean that?

  Tamara looked out over the slow swell of the sea, “That’s a great wish,” she said quietly. “It’s a big wish….. I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Then don’t say anything.” He squeezed her hand gently, then, as if suddenly embarrassed, he said abruptly, “Time for bed. We’re going sightseeing tomorrow.”

  Tamara followed him down the wide stairs into the main stateroom. “Your place is through there,” he said, pointing to a passage that led towards the front of the yacht. “Everything should have been arranged for you. Good night, Tamara,” and, with that, Simon kissed her gently on the cheek, and strode towards his own cabin.

  Tamara looked after him in frustration. God, he blows hot and cold. “These rich guys may have deep pockets but they’re emotionally desperate!” she muttered.

  Her cabin was amazing, and the Jacuzzi bath had to be experienced. Her cabin was sumptuously appointed, with polished mahogany walls inlaid with a lighter wood in intricate patterns. Her clothes had been unpacked and were hanging in the cavernous walk-in wardrobe. My things don’t even dent the space available, she thought. Peeking into the bathroom she had the choice between a walk in shower or a full length bath. I’m amazed this boat can even float with all the marble that’s in here.

  As she undressed, Tamara caught sight of her body in the wall to ceiling mirror. She had caught the sun, but not enough to burn, and her faint tan lines showed that progress had been made.

  She sank into the scented water and found herself thinking about Simon, surprised at the fluttering of excitement that he aroused in her. Oh no, cool it. He’s not right for me, and I’m surely not ready for him.

  ****

  Tamara and Mike had been together for nearly eighteen months, and although he was often away as a marketing manager for a major pharmaceuticals company, she felt that their relationship was strong, even if she was afraid of his quick temper.

  But she couldn’t postpone the conversation any longer.

  “What d’you mean, we can’t have children? What are you talking about?” Mike stood up angrily. “What the hell do you mean? What’s going on?”

  “Mike, don’t-“ Tamara began helplessly.

  “Have you been holding back from me?”

  “No - it’s just that there never seemed to be a good time to talk. Either you were travelling, or -“

  “So it was my fault?” he said nastily.

  Oh dear God, don’t let him lose his temper.

  “No, never. I didn’t know for certain until a year ago. I just had this feeling. So I went to a gynaecologist and had tests and so on. Look, apparently I can’t conceive, and… and - that’s it,” she finished weakly, and started crying.

  Mike moved around the bed and sat next to her. “Hey, baby,” he said softly, hugging her. “Look, it’s all a shock. I need time for it to sink in, OK?” He looked out of the window, then, “We can work it out.”

  But their relationship changed. Mike was different around her. They made love less. He was away on business more. And one evening his mobile phone rang when he was in the shower.

  “Mike - is it you, darling?” Tamara froze when she heard a woman’s voice, and looked around guiltily to see if Mike was still in the bathroom. Without saying anything she put the phone on the side table and ran into the kitchen, sobbing her heart out.

  “Of course I’m not” Mike had shouted, unconvincingly. And then, later, “Look, we need some space. I need to think about things. And - I’m being transferred for a couple of months to the States.”

  She never saw him again.

  Tamara threw herself into her new job with Square Circle and decided that, for the time being, she didn’t need a man in her life. And if she couldn’t have a family, she probably didn’t need sex either.

  Chapter 9

  Tamara finished her coffee and looked across the water towards the bustling harbour. They were sitting under the white awning on the sun deck. She looked at Simon who was still devouring a warm croissant.

  “So why aren’t you coming ashore? I thought this was your vacation?”

  Simon sighed. “I’d love to. Maybe this evening we can go to a restaurant. But if I come with you there’s going to be a swarm of paparazzi the moment we step on dry land. It’ll be a circus, and no vacation, believe me. They’re desperate for pictures of a rich guy and a mysterious beauty!”

  “Whoa, there! Is there someone on board I don’t know?”

  Simon looked at her. Tamara had her blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing a white t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans. “Give yourself a break - you look fabulous, OK?” Simon replied, throwing his napkin at her. He caught himself glancing at the way her ponytail caught the sunlight as she ducked to avoid being hit. “Have a wander around and find somewhere we can go to eat later when it’s quieter.” He looked at his watch. “Get your things and I’ll have someone stand by to take you to the quay.”

  Tamara shrugged. “OK - but I’m disappointed. I was looking forward to sharing all the tourist information I read about in the guidebook last night.”

  “Then I’m absolutely certain I don’t want to come if you’re going to bombard me with information,” Simon laughed. “Have fun and enjoy yourself!”

  Tamara shielded her eyes against the bright sunshine as the launch pulled away from the yacht’s shadow and headed towards Positano harbour. Small sailing boats and fishing boats bobbed lazily in the low swell, and the tiered ranks of houses each painted in different soft pastel colors - lemon, white and cream - with their ancient terracotta roofs clinging to the town’s rocky slopes.

  “It’s beautiful,” she breathed to herself, gripping the glittering chrome handrail which ran from the cabin to the stern. It didn’t take long to cross the few hundred metres from where they were moored and dock alongside the wooden pontoon that stretched out from the quayside. The coloured awnings from different ristorantes stretched on either side of them, and the small tables arranged outside were already filling up with tourists sipping Prosecco and seeking shade from the sun.

  After a few minutes Tamara decided to window shop along the Via Christoforo Columbo. She enjoyed sauntering along the seafront, walking between dark shadow and dazzling sunlight as she wandered under the striped awnings that hung over the sidewalk. She picked out a silk scarf to take back to Donna, and wondered where to find a joke present to give to Simon. There were enough vulgar souvenirs to choose from but she was keen to find an artisan piece of craftsmanship.

  Even though it wasn’t noon it was getting hot, so she shifted her bag onto her shoulder and she turned into a narrow street to find somewhere where she could relax and have a coffee.

  The Cafe Savoie was not too crowded, and Tamara was grateful for the shady cool veranda and the chance to people watch. She was still puzzled. She could tell that Simon was attracted to her, and she had to admit that the trip was turning out far differently to that she’d expected.

  Questions whirled through her head: What would Simon do if he found out who she really was? How would she justify lying to him? If she told him the truth she was certain he would end their relationship then and there. Could she be honest, yet risk losing the relationship[ that s
he felt blossoming between them?

  But she couldn’t face the explanations she would have to do to bring him up to speed about her past if they got to know each other better.

  As she finished her espresso she decided to track back towards the market she had glimpsed when she came ashore. Judging by the crowds of local people and tourists it was popular, and she might well find something to buy for Simon.

  “Ciao, Signorina, grazie.” The muscular waiter in his white apron and black jacket eyed her appreciatively as he scooped up her euros and accepted the tip. I like it here. The men aren’t embarrassed about showing they fancy you!

  Tamara retraced her steps, walking on the edge of the sidewalk to avoid the crowds that were jostling each other nearer the shop entrances and looked uncertainly for the narrow alley through which she had seen the market earlier.

  Just at that moment there was a squeal of brakes. Tamara spun round to see what was happening, and found herself suddenly flung forward as someone tried to grab her shoulder bag and wrench it from her.