by Sally Graham
“Hey, what the hell?” A black leather clad biker wearing a crash helmet with his visor down had grabbed her shoulder strap and was yanking it loose as it slid off her arm. Tamara tried to struggle but at that moment he pulled out a flick knife. Tamara froze as she saw the blade. “Okay - take the bag” she shouted.
But at that moment her attacker yelped with pain and dropped the knife. His arm was twisted behind his back and pushed hard upwards which made him he yell out again as he was lifted off his feet. His assailant gave him another yank for good measure and then let him go so that he slumped towards his companion who was revving the vespa.
“Tamara - are you ok?” a woman shouted authoritatively.
It had happened so fast Tamara wasn’t certain where to turn or who was shouting at her. But she felt herself grasped and half dragged, half pushed away from where she had been attacked. The motor bike roared off and people around her surged forward to see what had happened.
She heard a woman’s voice talking to people who had gathered round. “Scuzi, scuzi, we’re fine - it’s OK, just a small incident. Andiamo” Then the voice was talking to her. “We’re going back to the boat, Tamara. That wasn’t fun. Scumbags.”
Tamara was regaining her senses and was still shaky from the unexpected attack. She looked at the woman who was guiding her firmly back towards the harbor quayside.
“Hi, thanks, but - do I know you?” She looked more closely at her rescuer and recognised the blonde with the ponytail. “Aren’t you one of Simon’s team?”
The attractive blonde smiled at her. “Hi, I should have been introduced before, I expect. I’m Gina. One of Mr Henty’s security detail. I’ve been assigned to look after you. Which, I’m sorry to say, I didn’t do very well.” She slowed her pace, looked around to check that they were not being followed, and spoke quickly into a concealed microphone. “Yes, it’s fine. We’re almost at the launch. It’s OK, Mr Henty - no harm done, just a shock. No - I let them go. One of them will have a helluva sore shoulder though. Oh - I picked up the knife, so there’s nothing the cabineri need to worry about.”
“So you - ?” Tamara’s mind was whirling. Her suspicions that Simon was having an affair with Gina were ridiculous. She doubled as his trainer and was a security guard as well. How could she have been so stupid?
A gaggle of onlookers crowded round the jetty steps,watching the smart sleek launch that waited for them, its engines revving hard, frothing the blue water milky white. Gina pushed past them and pulled Tamara firmly by her arm, guiding her carefully over the walkway before a crew member cast off. They roared away in a tight circle and headed back to the yacht.
“What was that about?” Tamara asked before realising how stupid her question sounded. “Listen, thank you, I nearly got robbed back there.”
“You nearly got stabbed, too. A typical grab-and-run that nearly went badly wrong. I apologise again - I allowed myself to fall too far behind you.”
“Were you around the whole time?”
“Your entire trip ashore. But my job is to stay out of the way.”
Tamara felt glad to be sitting in the bow of the launch and not the cabin. The bracing air forced her to calm down after the adrenalin rush that followed her attack, and the occasional splash of cold spray on her face helped her to recover.
As they approached the yacht she saw Simon standing by the railings silhouetted against the sky, waiting for them to berth. The launch drew seamlessly into the docking bay and Tamara ran to the elevator.
“My God, what’s been going on?” Simon asked, grabbing her as soon as she stepped up on deck and hugging her tight. She relaxed at once as his arms held her firmly before he pulled away and shouted at Gina who followed her. “Where the hell were you? You were meant to protect her, for God’s sake.”
The blonde girl crimsoned. “I’m sorry Mr Henty. I’ve apologised to Ms Tremaine. My behaviour fell short of the professional standards you expect.”
“You’re dead right they did. Consider yourself en route back to Sydney -“
“Simon!” Tamara interrupted. “It wasn’t her fault - there was a crowd of people - “
“Not now, Tamara. This is a staffing issue,” Simon answered curtly. “Let’s go up to the sun deck.” He turned away and led Tamara aft where the stairs led to the private stateroom where they would be undisturbed.
When they reached the awning he grabbed Tamara and hugged her. “Are you OK, darling? No scratches or anything?”
His concern melted any final reservations, and she snuggled against his dark blue cotton shirt, drawing strength from him.
“I don’t know what I would have done if anything had happened to you,” he went on, stroking her hair. “I was stupid not to have gone with you.”
She pulled away and looked up at those smoky eyes. “Don’t be silly, Simon. You knew it would have been far worse if you had come with me. Photographers were everywhere. And, please, don’t be hard on Gina. Please.”
“I’ll have to see,” he said shortly. “She admitted it was unprofessional.”
“But not as stupid as I’ve been,” she said, still holding him.
“What do you mean?”
“I thought you were having an affair with her?”
Simon let go of her and stepped back. “Having an affair? With her?” He paused for a moment. “What on earth?” He looked at her questioningly. “You mean, when you saw me with her in the gym?”
Tamara nodded unhappily. “That’s right. I had no idea she was your personal trainer. It never occurred to me that she might be working in a security capacity either. You never explained.”
“Come over her. Sit and let’s talk,” Simon answered. “Up to this point we’ve been strangers on a plane, strangers in the palazzo, and strangers on this boat. It’s time to move on, don’t you think?”
She nodded, and they walked to the lounge platform under the sun awning.
He sat and stretched out, drawing her to him so she could snuggle close. “There’s much of my life that I try to keep private. Maybe it’s good, maybe not. But I don’t want friends and people I like getting messed about because I happen to be tracked by journalists. It’s not entirely my choice, but these days it’s part of the game you have to play if you’ve got a high profile in business. And bad guys are around too. They see business leaders as legitimate targets. At first I thought it was vanity when I went to conferences and saw people I regarded as less successful than me surrounded by goons in dark glasses. But then I had a nasty experience in Mexico when my car was nearly ambushed. It was then I decided to I’d have to play along. But I don’t go in for obvious heavies. I prefer to have a far more discreet security profile. And Gina is a good example.”
“You mean you have a team of Charlie’s Angels?” Tamara teased, amazed that, at last, they were talking naturally with one another, and melting at the intensity of his eyes as he looked at her when he talked. My God, I’m falling for him.
He laughed. “Christ, wouldn’t that be amazing? But they’d stand out a mile. No, to be good in that business you need to be discreet. But several of the women who look like crew members or were around the villa are on the payroll. And - just to set the record straight – a few of the girls that have been on my arm that the gutter press have made such a fuss about - “
“Don’t tell me they were spooks as well,” interrupted Tamara, sitting up.
“Listen, if you’re doing business in a developing country which has, shall we say, slightly different commercial ethics to the ones we’re used to, you need your protection very close to you. Especially when you’re partying.”
“So a lot of the time, all those girls I was so disapproving of, were protecting you?”
“That sounds a bit melodramatic, putting it like that. I think it’s called close protection. But, yes, Ms Tremaine - you don’t want to read everything you read in the papers or watch on the TV.”
He smiled mischievously at her. “But I do have the final say, of course!
That is, I feel safer if my security detail is extremely attractive!”
Tamara couldn’t help laughing. “You’re crazy, Mr Henty. Talk about combining business with pleasure! But… I’m confused. I thought bodyguards were - “
“Out of work cage fighters? Heaven forbid. People like that are useless. If you’re good in this business you’re going to be intelligent, extremely fit, street smart… Gina served in Afghanistan, I believe, with the US Rangers. She doesn’t talk about it much. Another girl who finished her roster when we left the villa and went on leave is working to pay her way through medical school.”
Tamara looked at him. “About Gina,” she began uncertainly. “I meant what I said. She got me out of that mess - and she got hurt herself.”
Simon looked over towards the horizon. “OK,” he said after a few moments. “I’ll have a word with her and let it go.” Then he turned back and put his hand on her knee. “Why don’t we swim before lunch? We need to cool off?”
“I bet I’m a better swimmer than you are,” Tamara laughed, getting up. “Last one in the water is a sissy!”
But when she got back to her cabin, Tamara felt suddenly embarrassed. It would be the first time that Simon had seen her in a swim suit, and she didn’t know whether to wear her bikini, or play it safe with a one-piece. She pulled her swim suits out of her drawer and dithered for a moment before undressing and pulling on the black one piece that she had bought just before she left. She did a quick turn in front of the mirror - her bottom looked good, and it was cut in such a way that her figure was flattered. “It’ll have to do,” she thought to herself. “I just don’t know where this is going to lead to.” When am I going to get an opportunity to sort out the mess I’m getting into and tell Simon the truth?
Simon was already waiting at the stern of the yacht when he saw Tamara. My God, she’s fantastic. Sexy, or what? How the hell am I going to play this?
“So who’s the sissy?” he shouted, and turned and dived into the water. For a fleeting second Tamara drank in his lithe, tanned, muscular body, and felt a rush of jealousy that Gina was the one who worked out with him. I’ll show him. And a moment later she had run to the edge of the deck.
The cold water hit her as she surfaced and looked around to look for Simon, but he had already swum away from the yacht before he turned around, treading water, and waved. She swam strongly towards him, revelling in the rush of water along her body and the heat of the sun on her back.
“Listen, let’s play with the jet skis,” he shouted as she reached him. “Swimming is boring. How about it?”
“I’ll go on yours - I’ll feel a bit nervous.”
He looked at her in surprise. “You? Nervous? OK - race you back to the boat!”
A few minutes later they climbed back on to the yacht to find fresh cotton towels and robes. Simon spoke into the phone and a few moments later there was a discreet whir and a panel slid back to reveal a jet ski. A crew member appeared with a control panel, pressed a few buttons and lowered the machine into the water.
“This boat has got everything,” Tamara said in amazement. “It should have, “Simon said drily. “It costs enough!”
“That’s the second time you’ve complained about costs,” Tamara teased him. “Are you running low on funds?”
“Any more of that and you’ll be thrown overboard to swim home.” Simon climbed onto the jet ski which bobbed in the swell, hands on the steering handles. “Here, climb on - you’ll have to hold on to me.”
Tamara put one foot on the side of the jet ski nearest to her, and then swung a leg over the seat. It was surprisingly comfortable, but she was glad she could hold on to Simon.
“Ready?” he called, and revved the throttle. Tamara was pushed backwards by the speed with which they pulled away from the boat, and shrieked as she grabbed Simon tightly around his waist.
“Not so fast,” she yelled.
“Don’t be a baby!” he shouted. “Hang on!”
Tamara didn’t need any encouragement. She wondered if Simon had engineered this entire escapade so that he could see her in her swimsuit and then get her to hold on to him intimately. Well, not intimately, but I’m only inches away from….”
Tamara couldn’t believe that she was entertaining such lascivious thoughts, but there was no denying the muted eroticism of hugging an almost naked man who looked great as he powered their craft through the water. They were criss crossing the waves now, and with each leap over the crest Tamara had to hold more tightly onto Simon before relaxing and then holding him again.
She was aware of another jet ski leaving the yacht, and guessed that it was one of the team checking that they were OK. She had a flash of jealousy and hoped that it wouldn’t be one of Charlie’s Angels.
But she needn’t have worried. As they were making a turn, the other jet ski drew nearer, and Tamara recognised the crew man who had helped her on board when she returned from Positano. He waved at Simon and pointed at something.
Tamara couldn’t hear what he was telling Simon. “It’s no good,” he shouted above the throb of the jet ski. “We’ll have to go back. Apparently there’s a launch coming out and it’s crammed with paparazzi. I don’t want them around.”
He gestured to the other rider and revved the engine. With a roar they headed back to the yacht and drew alongside the stern. When Simon cut the engine, Tamara heard the high pitched sound of another boat approaching.
“Let’s get inside. That’ll be the paparazzi vipers,” Simon said angrily. “I’ll make certain we move further out into the bay so we don’t get any more hassle.”
When they got up to the sun deck, Tamara leaned against the chrome railings and saw a speedboat about sixty metres away speeding towards their boat.
“You’ve caught the sun,” Simon said. “Here, let me put some lotion on.” Without waiting for Tamara to answer, he unscrewed a tube of moisturiser and began gently smoothing it across her shoulders. Tamara bent forward slightly, her skin tingling as his fingers massaged the cool ointment into her skin.
“Umm - that feels rather good,” she murmured. Then she noticed how fast the other boat was approaching. “They’re going to hit us if they don’t turn away.”
“Get back, Tamara,” Simon said sharply. “They’ll have telephoto lenses.” At the same time two of the crew quickly lowered sun awnings so that they were hidden from the prying cameras. “Can you organise lunch, someone?” he barked.
Tamara touched his arm. “Hey, it’s OK,” she murmured, noticing his bad temper and not wanting to have the day spoiled. “They can’t see us anymore. That swim has worked up an appetite in me at any rate.”
He frowned, and looked at her as though he hadn’t noticed her swimsuit before, and smiled slowly as he looked her up and down and whistled approvingly. “You look fabulous… just great.” He was standing against the light, and Tamara drank in his honed torso and tanned, lean body.
But they were interrupted by stewards who began laying cutlery on the table and arranging the hors d’oeuvres.
“We’ll keep an eye on our visitors, sir, and move further away when you’ve finished your meal. I think they’ll get tired when they see that they can’t snatch any pictures.”
“Thanks, Mike. Oh - and let’s have some champagne!”
“Are we celebrating?” Tamara laughed, walking over and hugging him.
“We certainly are,” he whispered into her ear, pulling her towards him.
Tamara ran her hand across his chest and stroked his back. “So what’s the celebration for?” she murmured.
“This!” Simon said, and tilted her chin upwards before kissing her mouth.
For a lingering, melting moment Tamara pressed her lips towards his, and then pulled back coquettishly. “You’ll have to try harder than giving me a ride on a jet ski, you know. I told you I’m not one of your models.”
“You certainly aren’t,” he said. “They don’t have brains. They don’t have any conversation. And they certainly
don’t have a body like yours!”
Tamara blushed. “You’re a liar, Mr Henty. I know my shortcomings!”
He laughed, and a few moments later they were sipping champagne.
“My God - I’m going to use that gym after this lunch,” Tamara sighed later, as she finished her espresso.
“Nonsense - that was a straightforward Mediterranean meal - healthy and simple.”
“Mmmmmm - what about the wine?” Tamara asked lazily, conscious that she had drunk more than she was used to, but loving the relaxed time they were having, and the warmth of the afternoon sun.
Simon had talked about his childhood and his first forays into business selling sweets at school. He seemed disinterested in getting Tamara to talk about her own family, for which she was thankful.
