The Trouble With Paradise Read online

  “Ith nether thn—” Ruthlessly, she bit her own tongue, then tried again. “I’ve never snorkeled.”

  “There’s a first time for everything, darlin’.” His smile said that maybe snorkeling wouldn’t be their only first.

  In response, Dorie’s tongue twitched. Panicked, she looked at Cadence.

  Cadence shook her head. “Sorry, but I have a fear of putting my face in the water. Totally and ridiculously juvenile, I know, but snorkeling is not happening for me. You’re on your own.”

  Andy smiled at Dorie. “No problem. We go in pairs anyway. How about we partner up?”

  “She’d love to,” Cadence said for her.

  Andy lightly tugged on a strand of Dorie’s hair. “Don’t worry, you’ll be in good hands.”

  Dorie looked at his handsome face, and thought of him in a bathing suit. “Fun,” she agreed.

  He smiled the smile of a man charmed. A man who knew he was on his way to getting lucky.

  She just had to decide if that was going to be true. And if she could sleep with him without swallowing her own tongue.

  Night One—No cabana boy yet but still working on it.

  Dorie slept in soft, lush bedding that wasn’t from Shop-Mart and woke to the sound of the wind whipping at sails. From her window she could see an incredible blue sky, so bright she needed sunglasses to look at it. She showered and winced anew at her unreachable splinter, but it didn’t look infected so she wasn’t going to worry about it.

  Much.

  Her ankle felt better and was no longer swollen. She pulled on the bathing suit she’d designed when she’d promised herself to lose ten pounds, which had never happened because barbeque chips had gone on sale at the store and she’d bought an entire carton. Not a single bag, but a carton . Now the suit was a little tight, but the top gave her breasts a nice lift, which was a fun bonus. Unfortunately, the shorty bottoms exposed more than they covered.

  Damn BBQ chips.

  She pulled out a wraparound skirt, tied it on, and called it good.

  Up on deck, she was momentarily staggered by the huge, yawning sky and even huger, yawning ocean, both in that brilliant blue, with only the occasional whitecap to break it up. The air was warm, with a soft breeze that felt like heaven. Far above, the sails soared and cracked in the wind like fireworks.

  “An amazing way to wake up, isn’t it?”

  She turned and smiled at Cadence, who sat on a lounge. “Beats the L.A. smog, that’s for sure.” Despite the warm air, Cadence had her sweatshirt zipped up to her chin, and Dorie gestured to it. “You cold?”

  “No. My bathing suit is all screwed up. I think it shrank.” She grimaced. “Okay, that’s a lie. It didn’t shrink, I got bigger.”

  “Let me see.”

  Cadence looked around carefully for other eyes, then unzipped her sweatshirt. Dorie took in the bikini top, which was so tight it had Cadence’s barely size B breasts looking like C-pluses.

  “It’s hopeless.”

  “I can fix it.” She pulled Cadence off the lounge and around the corner, to the relatively secluded corner of the boat where she’d stood yesterday having her fantasy Titanic moment. “Take it off.”

  “Here?”

  “Trust me. A designer, remember?” Which felt incredibly good to say. She wished she could always say that instead of “Shop-Mart sales clerk.” “Take it off and turn it upside down.” Dorie showed her what she meant, and then retied the strings.

  Cadence looked down at her breasts, which now fit into the material, still snugly, but not X-rated-ly. “That’s amazing.”

  “Just a little trick. Hungry?”

  In marvel, Cadence cupped her breasts, adjusted. Smiled. “Starved.”

  “I bet Ethan cooked something good.”

  “I don’t know. He was busy busting Bobby for being a lazy shithead. A direct quote.”

  They entered the galley. Busy bickering or not, Ethan had cooked something good, and they ate a breakfast spread fit for kings, served with a scowl by Bobby under the supervision of Ethan, who was wearing spotless, wrinkle-free trousers and an immaculate white shirt.

  Dorie took a bite of her food and moaned. Ethan might look like a pretend chef but there was nothing pretend about the fabulous food he could produce.

  So much for losing ten pounds.

  “I’m going to have to replace my bathing suit with a muumuu,” Cadence said, stuffing her face.

  Brandy joined them, wearing a minuscule bikini and an iPod tucked in between her breasts, looking like a supermodel.

  Ethan came over. “A mimosa?”

  “Oh, no thanks,” Brandy said. “I don’t drink in the mornings. Unless it’s straight caffeine.”

  “Food then?”

  “I don’t eat in the mornings either.”

  Ethan laughed. “What do you do in the mornings?”

  A wicked light came into her eyes. “Guess.”

  Ethan arched a brow. “To each his own.”

  Brandy grinned and dragged Cadence and Dorie out on deck, where they stretched out on lounge chairs. They slathered themselves in suntan lotion and soaked up some of the tropical sun. Well, Dorie and Brandy did. Cadence stood on the deck doing exercises.

  “Crazy,” Brandy decided after watching her new friend sweat.

  But Dorie understood Cadence’s restlessness. The idleness felt strange to her, too. As long as she could remember, she’d had a long list of things to do at all times. The list never seemed to go away, mostly because she was disorganized and could never actually find the list. This just lying here thing, it was definitely decadent. After awhile, she brought out her drawing pad, and inspired by the ocean, by the sails snapping high overhead, spent an hour designing beachwear cover-ups.

  “Nice,” Brandy said, looking over her shoulder. “The long lines are gorgeous and slimming.” She pointed to Dorie’s own wraparound sarong skirt. “I want one of those.”

  Dorie glanced over at the table Ethan had used to set up drinks for them. It was covered with a long, thin, silky cloth in bright red and yellow. She pulled it free. “Stand up,” she said to Brandy, then folded and stretched the material, wrapping it around Brandy’s hips. “There.”

  Brandy strutted past Cadence—now doing yoga—looking like a runway model. “It’s perfect. I could go from beach to nightclub in this thing. A tablecloth.”

  “I beg your pardon, that’s an Anderson original.”

  Denny came up on deck, took one look at Cadence executing some complicated yoga pose, and laughed. “Relax, mate.”

  “Not so good at that.” But she tried to sit, managing to stay seated for oh, thirty seconds. “See? Can’t do it.”

  Denny, standing at the observation deck, offered to teach her to sail. “Come on, come up here.”

  Cadence grinned at Brandy and Dorie, then joined him. She put her hands on the wheel, and was content until a whipping breeze jerked the boat. Denny yelled at Bobby—working on the sails—to make some adjustments, but Cadence shook her head and backed up. “That’s enough for me.”

  Brandy tried next. She stood at the helm of the boat in that sexy bikini and new sarong skirt, an equally sexy smile on her face, feet planted firmly and confidently apart. “God,” she said, holding onto the wheel, tipping her head back. “The power. It’s glorious.”

  “You know it.” After another sharp gust, Denny turned on Bobby. “What the hell are you doing? Hoist sail!”

  Bobby, face impassive, set about the chore.

  “My momma always said to think big, live big, and love big,” Brandy said, grinning. “I’m sure doing all three right now!”

  Dorie absorbed that and decided that Brandy’s mother had some good wisdom. “What did your mother do?”

  “Oh, she was a hooker. And at least twenty cents short of a dollar, but she was the best of the best on the street. Dorie, you’ve got to come give this a try.”

  Dorie took the wheel. She could feel the swell of the ocean beneath her feet, the speed of t
he boat, and appreciated the authority. With the wind whipping at her and the control all hers, she felt dangerous and better yet, important. She could imagine she was a pirate on a raid, all-empowering, but then she hit the tip of a swell and the boat rose so high she screamed.

  Just behind her, Denny laughed wholeheartedly.

  “What if I capsize us?”

  “You can try, but we’re tougher than you think.”

  Good. Tough was very, very good. “What if I run into something?”

  Denny took in the view. There was a faint line of islands in the distance, but other than that, nothing was out there, nothing at all.

  “Good luck finding something to run into,” he said.

  So she kept at it, in charge of the helm, with the wind giving her a rush. She was grinning from ear to ear when she finally turned to give the control back over to Denny—

  And found Christian standing there, watching her.

  “I was pretending to be a pirate,” she said.

  “Ah.” He didn’t smile, but she’d have sworn his eyes warmed. A chink in the armor. She was wondering if there was some sort of trick to getting him to say more than a word or two at a time, when Andy showed up in designer board shorts and a vintage T-shirt, snorkeling mask in hand.

  “Hey, partner,” he said to Dorie, looking as if he belonged on the cover of Sailing Today. “Ready to snorkel?”

  Her tongue jerked once and promptly stuck to the roof of her mouth. “Um—”

  Not noticing her handicap, he pointed to the stretch of tiny islands that lay scattered like a handful of emeralds cast upon a shimmering blue tabletop. “I bet we can move closer, maybe go exploring.”

  Alone on a deserted island with a sexy baseball cutie. It should have thrilled her. Instead, she found herself glancing back at Christian.

  But with one inexplicable glance, he was gone.

  Snorkeling turned out to be a fairly painless adventure. Brandy joined them, and they even coaxed Cadence into the water—up to her neck, that is.

  “You gotta relax, girl!” Denny yelled out to her from the boat. He stood at the platform, long hair flowing behind him, eyes covered behind aviator sunglasses, shirtless, tanned, weathered, looking like he’d been born to the sea. “You’re in the South Pacific for God’s sake!”

  Cadence nodded but didn’t look like she relaxed any.

  Andy was in the water with Dorie, putting his hands on her as required. Which seemed to be fairly often. Every time he touched her, he was smiling easily, innocently.

  Sweetly and kindly.

  She tried to relax and enjoy the fact that Baseball Cutie wanted to touch her, but her tongue wouldn’t cooperate, and as a result, she was having a hard time relaxing herself.

  The crew took turns taking quick dips, including Christian, who dove off the top deck wearing nothing but a pair of black board shorts low on his hips. He swam hard and fast, straight out until he vanished, and then straight back, pulling himself out of the water in one sleek motion, collapsing on the deck to catch his breath.

  “Mmm-hmm,” Brandy murmured softly, for Cadence and Dorie’s ears only. “Ladies, I can almost feel the man-made orgasms as I lie here.”

  Dorie, who’d just taken an unfortunate sip of soda, choked.

  Brandy just smiled. “Much better than battery-operated toys.”

  Dorie coughed some more while Cadence let out a shocked laugh.

  Andy scooted closer. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” Dorie said quickly.

  He nodded but didn’t shift away, using his new closeness to get extra attentive, lotioning up Dorie’s back and shoulders, and taking his time about it. Not that Christian seemed to notice or care. Nope, as soon as he dried off, he simply pushed up to his feet and vanished.

  Without a word.

  Which worked for Dorie. Really, it did.

  That night they ate Ethan’s fresh salmon and beef tender-loin with French onion soup served by an even surlier than usual Bobby, as the setting sun tinted the sky lavender and orange. For dessert they consumed homemade ice cream to die for, then listened to Denny’s pitch on why they should buy into time-share sailing on the next luxurious sailing yacht the owner of the Sun Song was having built.

  Afterward, they danced beneath a darkening sky as clouds moved in with shocking speed, blotting out the moon and stars, churning up the night sky. Even the air changed, chilled, and from far off to the east, lightning flashed.

  “Bumpy seas ahead,” Denny called out.

  Dorie grabbed her drink just as it would have sailed across the table. “He’s not kidding.”

  The boat lurched again, and Cadence gripped her hand.

  “Uh-oh.” Brandy went an interesting shade of green. “I like to sleep off all unpleasantries. Time for me to hit the sack.” She went through her purse, pulling out a bottle of pills, shaking a few out in her hand. “Nope, not those”—she fingered through them—“No, not that one either. Ladies, never, ever, take a sleeping pill and a laxative in the same night . . .” She looked up. “Oblivion, anyone?”

  Dorie shook her head.

  Cadence did the same.

  “Suit yourselves.” She popped a sleeping pill, while the boat continued to rise and fall with sharp precision.

  Bobby appeared at their side. Though the night had cooled considerably, he was sweating. “The captain wants you to go down to your rooms for the night.”

  “Why?” Cadence asked.

  “I’ll take the nasty storm that wants to eat us up for a hundred, Bob,” Brandy said, still looking green.

  Dorie kept her gaze on Bobby, who wasn’t looking happy. Not that he ever did, but tonight he seemed especially grim. “Are we in danger?”

  “There’s a storm moving in. It’s . . .” He looked away. Adjusted his cap low on his head. “Unexpected.”

  No, it wasn’t. Denny had warned him yesterday to check something—the storm jib?—but Bobby hadn’t wanted to.

  “A big storm then?” Cadence asked worriedly.

  He grimaced, not very effective at hiding his feelings, which at the moment included frustration at having to deal with them when he clearly had other things to get to. Like checking the storm jib. “Can you just go below please?”

  “I’ll get seasick below,” Cadence said, just as the boat pitched hard to the right.

  Dorie gasped and grabbed onto the table to steady herself.

  “Look at the sky,” Cadence said in a low, fear-pitched voice.

  The sky was black, huge, and menacing as the storm clouds roiled above them. Earlier, Dorie had looked at the view with awe. It’d seemed so impossibly big, so all encompassing. She was still filled with awe, but horror-filled now, because this sky seemed bigger, and more all encompassing. Ready to gobble them up.

  “Ohmigod,” Cadence gasped.

  “Relax.” This from Denny, at the helm. “It’ll blow over by morning—”

  The boat pitched harshly. They all grabbed their things.

  “Go on down now,” Denny called. “We’ll have a day for the memory books tomorrow. Parasailing, whale watching . . . tons of fun, I promise. But go now.”

  Brandy leaned into Dorie and Cadence. “Yeah, that whole buying a time-share thing? Doesn’t look so good.”

  They all laughed a little, but it felt weak as they stood and got a glimpse of what they were sailing into. A billowing, churning sky, and huge, tumbling waves.

  “What if a wave knocks us over?” Cadence asked in a small voice. “I didn’t really listen when they were going over the safety procedures . . . oh, God. I’m going to die.”

  “No one’s going to die,” Brandy said. “Not yet. Not when I haven’t gone to confession in fifteen years. Hey,” she called to Christian, who’d come to stand next to Denny. “You aren’t by any chance a priest, too, are you, Doc? I need to confess before I kick the bucket.”

  “No one’s dying,” Ethan said, coming out of the galley, but he looked uncustomarily ruffled. “Going belo
w is simply for your own safety.”

  “Absolument.” Sounding extremely in charge and extremely French, Christian moved forward, his eyes right on Dorie, as if planning on taking her by the arm to escort her below himself if he had to, which definitely didn’t qualify as sweet but reached her anyway.

  “Tous ensemble,” Christian said. “Together.” But before he got to her side, Andy stepped between them, reaching for Dorie himself. “I’ll get them below.”

  Christian simply changed course as if it mattered not in the least to him, but he did give Dorie a long, almost daring look that she couldn’t have begun to interpret.

  Nor did she understand the funny feeling still sizzling in her belly, sort of like hunger but not.

  More like lust. Really? She asked herself. Now? She decided to ignore it and looked at Andy to see if she got the same feeling when he looked at her. He smiled, but all that happened was that her tongue threatened to swell. Damn it. She bit it, then jumped when Denny yelled.

  “Jesus, look at that! Sixty knots, and counting! Bobby, hoist that storm jib, goddamnit!”

  “I’m trying!”

  Christian leapt to help Bobby, his expression tense as he effortlessly climbed up the equipment in the face of the storm, the wind battering him as he did, without any sign of fear for his own safety while he ensured hers. Dorie stared at him, knowing she’d never forget the sight of him silhouetted against the terrifying sky. “Get below,” he shouted at her roughly. “Jesus, Andy, do it. Get the women belowdecks.”

  “Come on.” Andy grabbed Dorie and Cadence, who was holding on to Brandy. They moved to the stairs, and then hesitated, staring belowdecks. Nothing but pitch darkness.

  “Whoa,” Cadence said, hands out for balance as the boat rocked and rolled.

  Andy flipped on the running lights, which illuminated the stairs but not much else. Still, they headed down. At the bottom, they were galvanized by a sudden drumming sound.

  “What’s that?” Brandy gasped as it grew louder and louder. “A pack of angry bees on crack?”

  “Rain.” Andy sounded grim. “Torrential rain.”

  They stood belowdecks, huddled together in the middle of the dimly lit hallway. When the boat pitched again, Brandy gasped and grabbed the closest person—Andy. “Sorry, hon, but my pill is kicking in. Take me to bed, sailor?”