The Secret Cove in Croatia

by Julie Caplin

  ‘Who’s this?’ He raised an eyebrow as he pointed to a lone figure on the edge of the promenade. An Adonis-like figure with sunglasses perched on his blond head, complete with tiny salmon-pink shorts, stood just left of centre-stage, three teenage girls gazing at him.

  Maddie’s mouth dropped open into a little ‘O’ of horror, her eyes widening in an ‘eek’ kind of way as a red flush raced up her neck and flooded her face. She slapped a hand over her mouth.

  ‘I can’t decide whether to be flattered or offended,’ said Nick, folding his arms, giving her a mock glare.

  Maddie’s mouth quivered. ‘You should be grateful they’re girls ogling you.’

  Nick burst out laughing. ‘I love that you always know how to keep me in my place.’

  With a shrug she ducked her head, but he could see her shoulders shaking.

  ‘I could step right onto that beach … Oh, I’m already there.’ He shot her a mischievous wink when she looked up. ‘These people. They’re all so real. That’s my granny, my sister, my cousin’s toddler. You can almost smell the ice cream, the trees and the sea.’

  ‘That’s the ground-up pine needles in the paint,’ she quipped. ‘Do you really like it?’

  Her earnest face was tipped up towards him, her eyes wide and searching. She let out a breath as if she’d been holding onto it. His eyes dropped to her parted mouth, suddenly fascinated by her lips. There it was again, that little spark that flashed bright and brilliant between them. Don’t kiss her. Don’t kiss her. His brain fought hard against the impulse to put his mouth on hers.

  ‘I really like … it,’ he rasped, his voice husky. He really liked her. The realisation struck him hard, his diaphragm constricting in shock. He really did like her. Liked the way she teased him. Liked the way she didn’t take any crap. Liked the way she embraced life. Liked everything about her.

  He could feel himself leaning towards her. Stop. He dragged his eyes away from her face and down at the painting, feeling his body rebelling even as he pulled back.

  What was wrong with him? He was here with Tara; what sort of dick changed his mind like this? She might have dumped him, but he was still on holiday with her. An all-expenses-paid holiday that she’d brought him on. He shouldn’t do it.

  ‘It’s a great painting. Let’s see the other one.’

  A quick frown of confusion crossed Maddie’s face. And for a moment there was that awkward what-just-happened-here sort of atmosphere between them.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, brusque and back to business, as if the moment had never happened. His heart sank; the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her.

  ‘Maddie …’

  ‘Yes?’ Hope blossomed quick and sharp and he felt like an even bigger dick.

  ‘You shouldn’t doubt yourself.’

  ‘Easy for you to say,’ she said and he knew he’d just messed up. ‘It’s not like you’re an expert. They’re probably all right for a local craft exhibition. Amateur watercolours.’ She busied herself, pulling the different pictures together.

  ‘I’m not an expert but …’ He grasped her forearm to make her look at him. ‘These made me feel something. Really feel. Happiness. Joy. There’s emotion here. To make another person feel; that’s a special gift. Even, philistine as I am, I can see you’ve got talent.’

  ‘Oh.’ Maddie looked as if she might cry, her eyes luminous, shining with unshed tears.

  And he might have resisted if one solitary tear hadn’t slipped down her cheek.

  ‘Hey.’ He couldn’t help himself; he swiped at the tear and pulled her into a hug. Her gauzy sarong wrapped around his legs as he put his arms around her broad, solid shoulders. She felt real and solid after the insubstantial feel of Tara, which had made him fearful of his own strength. Maddie felt like a match. An equal.

  ‘Don’t be sad.’

  ‘I’m not sad,’ came her muffled voice as he held her to his chest, savouring the forbidden feel of her, soft and strong. She lifted her head, blinking away the tears. ‘Sorry.’ She lifted a hand to wipe her wet cheeks. ‘I’m glad, honest. Just a bit overcome. You’re the first person to see these.’

  ‘And I’d better not be the last.’ He gave her a squeeze, reluctantly easing back from her warm body. ‘You need to show these to people. I reckon you could easily sell them. Especially to people on holiday in Croatia. What a fabulous memory of this place.’

  He put his hands on her shoulders, easing her away from him, trying not to look at her eyes, scared he might give himself away. He couldn’t mess with her. It wouldn’t be fair; he wasn’t really going to be a free man until this trip was over. Which meant he was going to have to keep his distance, emotional distance at least, given that there were just two of them on the boat and he enjoyed her company. He wasn’t a saint, after all.

  Maddie took a long cool shower, the cold water refreshing on her heated skin. She needed to get a grip. She snatched a handful of shower gel, scrubbing her skin hard as if in penance. Oh God, how embarrassing! How to make a complete tit of yourself! But had she imagined those strange undercurrents between Nick and her up on the sundeck? She could have sworn his eyes had dropped to her lips. At one point she’d really thought he might kiss her. The point when her heart nearly burst out of her chest and she looked at his lips. Bugger, she had made an idiot of herself and she’d seen the moment when he’d slammed on the brakes. And it had made her cry. Nick didn’t want her. He might be attracted to her … but he didn’t want her. For some reason that hurt more. The ability to shut down. But then he’d hugged her and when he’d … even now her heart missed a beat at the memory of that gentle touch … when he’d wiped away her tear she’d felt his heart thudding hard in his chest. Although he’d quickly put some distance between them. And she had to remind herself he was here with Tara. And she should not be putting moves on him. He was spoken for. And he probably just thought of her as good old Maddie. A friend of his sister. Almost part of the Hadley family. And that was the way it should stay.

  But that didn’t stop her going out for lunch with him. Friendship was better than nothing. It was just physical attraction; perhaps spending more time with him would make her immune, like exposure to germs. She giggled as she stepped out of the shower to grab a towel, wondering what he’d think being compared to a germ. And how could she not have realised that she’d painted Nick into the picture? What a giveaway. It showed that he was never far from her thoughts.

  Despite her determination to treat Nick as a friend, feminine pride made her pull out one of the dresses that Siri had loaned her. It was a soft rust-brown silk sleeveless dress which finished mid-thigh and set off her colouring, exactly as Siri had told her it would. It was difficult to believe what a difference a colour could make but, as she gave herself a quick departing inspection in the mirror, she could see that the dress complemented the russet lights in her hair. No wonder Simon favoured those blue shirts all the time.

  Slipping her feet into tennis shoes, she rammed on the big straw hat that was about the only thing in her wardrobe that Siri hadn’t condemned and grabbed her bag, leaving the cabin to meet Nick on the deck.

  Ack! He’d changed into a clean white T-shirt which stretched nicely over his broad chest. Having seen the muscles underneath already, the T-shirt did little to stop her imagination going AWOL.

  He grinned at her. ‘You look nice.’

  ‘Oh, this old thing,’ she said in quick dismissal, her heart taking its time to settle as she brushed the silk, enjoying the luxurious feel of the fabric beneath her fingers.

  ‘Very nice and the hat – very glam.’

  ‘Actually, the dress is Siri’s,’ she confessed, unable to stop herself.

  ‘Well, it suits you,’ he said. ‘Shall we?’ He held out a hand, inviting her to go first.

  They stepped off the gangplank into a group of tourists taking pictures of the boat, most of whom turned and stared, a few nudging and whispering to each other. Nick winked at her, pulled down his sunglasses and took h
er arm with a gracious nod at their audience and they sauntered off as if they were a pair of celebrities, disguised by their dark glasses and her floppy hat, that people just couldn’t quite place.

  ‘Anywhere you fancy?’ he asked as they strolled along the broad path towards the centre of the town.

  ‘Apart from the laundry to pick up the washing, no. Yesterday I didn’t have time to have a proper look around. Remember those pesky chores and I was worried about my patient.’

  ‘Well, worry no longer. I feel a million times better. Stomach’s still a bit tender but I’m hungry again, so I’m hoping that’s a good sign.’

  ‘You need to go easy then,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, nurse.’

  They wandered along, past an official-looking building flying a Croatian flag and several private houses that looked as if they’d been tastefully modernised into holiday accommodation, before coming to a left turn that opened out into a wide area with plenty of restaurants and bars as well as a small shop selling suntan lotion, hats and beach shoes.

  ‘Where do you fancy?’ asked Nick.

  ‘That place looks pretty.’ She pointed to a restaurant below an old stone building, with pots of flowers lodged on every available ledge, the shutters painted a bright blue and with small square wooden tables outside, each laid with yellow and blue checked napkins. Everything about the scene suggested someone really cared and had put a lot of thought into making it look as attractive and welcoming as possible.

  ‘This looks good,’ said Nick, nodding at the menu on the wall outside.

  ‘OK,’ said Maddie and as they turned to choose a table a young man came out of the door.

  ‘Welcome, welcome. You’d like to eat today? We have the house speciality, gregada. Good fresh seafood. Home-made pasta.’

  Maddie smiled at his earnest enthusiasm. ‘Sounds good.’

  ‘Yeah, can we have a table for two, please?’ said Nick.

  ‘Of course – would you like to sit in the sun or the shade?’

  Nick looked at her freckled arms. ‘Shade?’ he asked.

  ‘That would be great.’ She beamed at him, grateful for his thoughtfulness. ‘Much as I love the sun, I have to be careful; it doesn’t love me. Hence the hat.’ She scooped it off and plonked it on the spare seat next to her. ‘I’m covered in suncream but I can only take so much.’

  The waiter returned with a carafe of water and a bowl of small black and green olives to take their drinks orders.

  After requesting a glass of white wine for herself and waiting until Nick had ordered a Coke, she asked about the special. Gregada, it turned out, was a fish and potato stew and sounded very similar to the one Tonka and Vesna had cooked on her first night in Croatia.

  ‘Sounds lovely; I think I might have that.’ She turned to Nick as the waiter disappeared. ‘I think you should avoid fish and shellfish for a while.’

  ‘Absolutely. I’m convinced it was the fish stew I had in the restaurant in Hvar. There were mussels in there. The pasta dish sounds good, Gregada. Funny, you can get pasta everywhere these days.’

  ‘Ah, now I can tell you something about pasta here,’ said Maddie, grateful as ever to Tonka and Vesna’s cookery class. ‘We’re not that far from Italy. They have their own pasta-making tradition in Croatia. Fuzi is flat diamond-shaped pieces of pasta which are then rolled around a dowel to create a tube shape.’

  ‘I’m impressed.’

  ‘All part of the service,’ she said with a smug grin as the waiter brought their drinks. ‘And with my medical hat, I’d say pasta is a good choice for your stomach.’

  ‘Is there no end to your talents? Cook, painter and nurse.’

  ‘None,’ said Maddie with a smug tilt of her head, lifting her glass in toast. ‘Cheers.’

  He laughed. ‘Cheers.’

  When their food arrived, Nick let out a heartfelt groan at the sight of the plate piled high with pale yellow pasta dotted with small pieces of chicken and herbs. ‘Proper food. I am so hungry.’

  Her gregada tasted every bit as delicious as it smelled, the light broth flavoured with herbs and white wine and the whole piece of fish perfectly cooked while the chunks of potato were firm and tasty, but she had definite food envy. Nick’s dish looked amazing.

  ‘Want to try some?’ asked Nick.

  ‘You don’t mind sharing?’ she asked with a teasing smile.

  ‘Must have been the pitiful look on your face.’

  ‘Huh, in our house, you so much as turn around and someone will have nicked one of your sausages.’

  He laughed. ‘It’s the same in ours. Every man for himself. You can imagine, with three brothers.

  ‘Here …’ He lifted a couple of the tubes and held out his fork. Without thinking, she put her hand to wrap her fingers around his forearm to steady the fork and as soon as she touched his hair-roughened skin her hormones decided to play silly beggars again. Her eyes jerked to Nick’s, wondering if he’d felt that flare of electricity, to find that he was watching her, his gaze steady as the tines of the fork teased her lips.

  She opened her mouth, feeling a flush race along her cheeks as she took the pasta, a sensation of her heart, taking off without, her filling her chest. It felt like the sort of thing a couple would do. She had to stop with the eye-meets she told herself, saying, ‘That’s very nice,’ so primly that Nick burst out laughing and thankfully the moment was broken.

  ‘I was always told nice was a non-word and you should never use it,’ he said.

  ‘And it doesn’t do this pasta justice; it is delicious. Now I’ve got a pasta craving. That is seriously good pasta. Do you want to try mine?’

  ‘Think I’ll play it safe for the time being.’

  ‘Probably a good idea.’ If she had to nurse him again, who knew what might happen.

  After lunch they wandered through small, narrow shady streets, where there were a few tiny shops that were little more than front rooms. In a gourmet delicatessen, Maddie sought out some interesting-looking pasta and bought a couple of packs, as well as some of the breadsticks, some little hessian bags of herbs which smelled amazing, some truffle oil and a bag of shelled walnuts which were considerably cheaper than they were at home. She had an idea for a simple pasta dish that Sebastian had taught her and hopefully it would go down well with Nick.

  As they headed to the laundry, Maddie spotted a familiar dark head seated at one of the pavement cafés. She nudged Nick. ‘Look, it’s Ivan.’

  He was sitting with another attractive dark-haired young woman and they were both drinking glasses of wine.

  ‘And another lady friend,’ observed Nick. ‘Guess it’s true about sailors having a different love in every port.’

  ‘Let’s hope he doesn’t see us.’

  ‘Why? You’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about.’

  ‘I’m not embarrassed; I’m just not sure I could hold my tongue. She’s young enough to be his daughter.’

  They ducked out of sight down a small side street and picked their way over the cobbles.

  ‘Well, look at that,’ said Nick, stopping outside a double-fronted building with big wide picture windows.

  ‘Very nice,’ said Maddie, studying the dramatic picture on display. Golds, reds and pinks tinted the clouds of a stylised sunset.

  ‘We could pop in with your pictures. See if they’re interested.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ said Maddie.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because …’

  Nick left the silence to stretch out as, standing side by side, they looked at the picture. His arm brushed hers.

  She winced. What did Nick know about art? But ordinary people bought pictures. ‘You’re the first person I’ve gone public with and now you’re talking about me selling them.’

  ‘Don’t you want to?’

  ‘Of course, I’d love to … Do you really think people would buy them? What if he says no?’ She gestured to the man in the shop behind a counter.

  ‘What if he does
? What will happen? The sky will fall in. You’re the art historian. Didn’t all the experts hate Monet at first?’

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘And now look at him.’

  ‘He is dead.’

  ‘Dead but very famous.’

  Maddie laughed. ‘So alive and unfamous is a bonus.’

  ‘Yes, and what if he said yes?’

  ‘That would be … amazing.’

  ‘See, there you have it. It’s a win-win really.’

  ‘I’m not sure how you figure that. But I guess I don’t have anything to lose.’ If he laughed in their faces they could hop back on the boat and sail away.

  ‘But it’s the thought of going bowling in and … selling myself.’

  ‘I could do it for you,’ he said, tipping his head to one side.

  ‘I can’t ask you to do that.’

  ‘Why not? Tell you what, why don’t you go to the laundry and I’ll go back to the boat and get your portfolio case?’

  ‘What, now?’

  ‘Strike while the iron’s hot. Come on, Maddie, what have you got to lose? Unless you want to keep them all?’

  Flutters of excitement rose in her chest.

  ‘OK,’ she said, ‘I’ll do it.’

  ‘Oh my God. Oh my God.’ Maddie stopped dead in the middle of the pavement as soon as they rounded the corner away from the gallery. ‘He’s interested in my paintings.’ She couldn’t help herself doing a little dance. ‘He likes my paintings. My paintings.’

  Nick looked very smug. She punched his arm. ‘Don’t you dare say I told you so.’ She did a little spin in the street just because she could, her heart bouncing with sheer joy.

  ‘Well done,’ he said and scooped her into a big hug, his handsome tanned face beaming at her, mere inches away. ‘I told you so.’

  ‘You did.’ She beamed back at him, fizzing with excitement, clutching his forearms. ‘Oh my God, Nick. Oh my God.’ His blue eyes glowed with pride and his smile was nearly as wide as hers.