Caribbean Christmas (7 page)

“He also wants half a dozen ginger grandbabies. You gonna jump right on that too?” She rolled her eyes. “Listen, I’ll tell him you were a great host, the perfect gentleman. You won’t even have to speak to me again. Go spank it in the shower or head down to the resort and play cabana boy for some fake-boobed tart looking for a vacation lay. I’m sure my dad would be so proud.”

“Still taking you sailing. It’s the busiest week of the year. Every boat on the island is reserved. It’s pretty much my offer or nothing.”

“Are you going to get all grumpy when you get horny and refuse to do anything about it? Because you haven’t exactly been a barrel of fun since you decided to give yourself blue balls. Actually, you haven’t been all that hospitable outside of our sex-in-the-surf hook-up.”

“We did not have sex.”

“Oh, whatever. We totally had sex. You can muddle the definitions however you want, but when I’m using my fingers to tally up the men I’ve been with, you count.”

His mouth twisted, his eyes looking glazed and puzzled. For goodness’ sake, she did not have the patience for whatever game he was playing.

“Yes, Johannes. You had sex with Dutch’s daughter. Deal with it.”

Chapter Nine

The morning sun beat down on his back, but Joe opted to keep his shirt on. He didn’t want to encourage that minx to strip down as well. Still struggling with the realization he’d already crossed the line, he opted for full-on tour-guide mode.

“The storm came from the west and hit Barnes Bay first. These apartments were under construction when the hurricane hit. The windows and roofs came right off, destroying everything inside. But the good news was that no one had moved in yet.” He hoped by the time they’d made it around the island, Saskia would have some perspective on the enormity of the devastation the storm had caused. Maybe then, when Dutch confessed the state of his financial affairs, she’d understand.

“They look amazing now, almost like in Greece the way the buildings hug the cliffs. I can’t believe how much construction has gone up. There used to be nothing here.”

The wind blew her hair back and kept the sail full as he turned to travel up the western side of the isle. Her oversized sunglasses made her seem like a classic movie star and kept him from staring into those honey-centered sea-blue eyes. Her eyes were so distracting, he couldn’t even argue with her properly.

“What is that?” She pointed towards the promontory. “The Headland Hotel seems to have spawned its own city.”

He looked toward the resort perched atop the rocky promenade. “Headland was flattened about eight years ago. A bunch of American investors came up with the idea of outdoing the other two resorts by bringing the Monarch brand. When the Monarch Anguilla went in, there was a need for more apartments on the southern edge. A five-star resort creates lots of jobs, which means people can afford nice places. But I think Monarch will be the last outside resort to ever break ground on Anguilla. Once the Estate is completely developed, I can’t see the government doing anything but keeping those tourism dollars for themselves.”

She pulled her hair off her neck, exposing the pale, freckled column. “And control over the jobs. Dutch thinks a lot of people will be able to move home since everyone who works there will be an Anguillan national.”

“Yeah, this island does like to take care of its own. Sometimes at the expense of progress.”

“I don’t know, I think making sure your family is taken care of first is the right thing to do. With a population this small, we’re all connected in some way. When finances get tight and families have to leave to find work, it is devastating. If they can keep that from happening through tourism dollars instead of having to tax imports so high people struggle to buy food, I’m all for it.”

She stretched her long legs along the smooth teak of the cockpit seats. He kept wishing she’d move into the shade, but she’d promised him she’d used enough sunblock to protect herself.

“Maybe we should go there for lunch. I’m starting to get hungry.”

“You won’t like it. It looks like Miami.”

She slipped her glasses down her nose and stared up at him. “Excuse me?”

“Have you been to the Monarch Miami? Monarch Anguilla will give you déjà vu. It’s very modern and chic. Dutch despises the place.”

“Well, he does loathe Miami. Sometimes I think if my mom had picked anywhere else to live, he would have come with us.“ She faced the shore, so he couldn’t read her expression.

“I doubt anything will ever coax Dutch to leave Anguilla. It’s a part of him.” After all, if the woman he still carried a torch for couldn’t tempt him away, and financial ruin couldn’t send him running, Joe doubted anything ever could.

She nodded, still captivated by the passing shore. “Where do you suggest we stop for lunch? You will have to feed me soon.”

He laughed. “You’re fine. You had a bunch of sugar apples when we first climbed aboard.”

She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That was just so I could spit the seeds and see if there were any fish. I really do need to eat.”

“Do you think you can make it to Sandy Ground? I need someplace to anchor off.”

“That is because you insisted on such a big boat. If we’d have taken something small we could have zipped around the island in no time, and probably without having to turn on the motor.”

“Oh, Lola, she doesn’t know what she says.” He ran his hand over the wheel he’d painstakingly hand polished.

“She’s a beautiful boat, I’ll give you that. But we didn’t need a thirty-six footer, and she has to be older than you. No one has put this much teak on a boat in our lifetime.”

Damn. Her appreciation of Lola was even sexier than the way she’d looked last night in her barely there bikini. “She’s a 1969. We had to do a complete rebuild. I’m not talking a top-side refit. We stripped her down to the bones and filled her back in right. I hand painted
Leef en Laat Leven
myself.” He’d never been more proud of an accomplishment than when he and Dutch had made the first sail. The process had been as good as the result.

“For someone who names their boat live and let live, you’re certainly bossy.”

“Maybe you’re just used to calling the shots.”

“What brought you to Anguilla?” After filling her belly with grilled snapper and crispy plantains at a beach stand on Sandy Ground, Saskia coaxed Joe into a little shopping. Most shipping came and went from the harbor, so the stores were better stocked on this side of the island. She stalked the baking aisle of the market with precision. She didn’t want to be mid-recipe and realize she’d forgotten a crucial ingredient.

“I needed a change, and Dutch was dealing with the aftermath of the storm. I came to help out and haven’t found a reason to leave.”

“You don’t miss Holland?” She winced when she saw the price of a single pound of sugar. It was no wonder Anguilla had become a haven for the rich. Who else could afford to spend as much on sugar as a movie ticket?

“Little things, but I get enough of them when I visit my brother.”

Concern furrowed her brow. Surely her father would have mentioned if something had happened to Sebastian. “Isn’t your father still there?”

“Yes, with a mad obsession to expand a business he plans on liquidating rather than pass on to his children.” He leaned over the buggy she was loading things into, plucked three chocolate bars from the shelf and added them to the collection. “He decided we’d all done well enough for ourselves that we didn’t need to be his heirs anymore. I decided I didn’t want to keep building a company I would never own and came here instead. There were such great real estate opportunities here that Harm came out a year later. We were always competing back home, but here we’re partners.”

“That must be nice. I always wished I had a sibling, someone to share in my parents’ particular brand of crazy. But it’s always been just me, playing monkey in the middle.” Okay, that was a little raw. Maybe they shouldn’t talk about anything other than sailing or sex. When he opened up it made her feel like she could. Which was silly. Unnecessary.

“I did get lucky in the brother department.” He lifted two packets she’d just placed in the cart. “Why do you need two kinds of almonds?”

“Slivered and sliced. The different way they are prepared changes how I use them. That, and I am completely spoiled by American supermarkets.” Walking the aisles with Joe felt domestic and intimate, as if they did this every week. Even when he was driving her mad, being with him held this quiet comfort she didn’t dare get used to. He’d made it crystal clear his relationship with her father was more important than anything they could share.

And she couldn’t really blame him. He had no idea she was toying with the notion of moving home. To him, she was just a girl in town for a few days looking for a quick thrill. That couldn’t really compete with years of mentorship.

She’d decided to stop flirting with him altogether. And then he tossed a box of condoms in her cart.

Chapter Ten

“I can’t resist this water.” Saskia stood and reached her arms overhead in a catlike stretch. “I need to have yarn dyed this exact color.”

“You want to stop now?” The sea was always calmer on the northeastern edge of the island. He was anxious to make the turn and let Lola do what she did best.

She took off her sunglasses and set them on the bench. The golden flecks in her blue eyes seemed to glow. “I need some exercise. Do you have any snorkeling gear on board?”

He nodded and motioned below decks. “Should be in the tall cabinet in the bow. The head’s to starboard, and quarters are aft.”

She moved past him as she made her way to the stairs, her shoulder brushing his ever so slightly. Heat flushed through him, as if the sun had decided to jump the temperature ten degrees in a single second.

She stepped down, then turned to look up at him. “Maybe after my swim, you’ll let me take the helm for a while.”

He shrugged, but had no intention of letting anyone else pilot Lola. Even Dutch hadn’t touched the wheel, but he knew better than to ask.

“Good. I can show you how to use your sails instead of your inboard motor, and the tiller instead of that giant bus wheel.” She winked and disappeared below deck.

The mouth on that girl was ridiculous. With as wicked as her tongue could be, he could only imagine how it would play when she was too busy to talk. He pushed a hand through his hair and opted to take off his shirt. If she was going to parade around his boat in a couple of strategically placed flowers, he’d overheat for sure.

In no time, she was back up on deck, but not in the ensemble he’d been imagining. He figured the white suit was technically a one-piece, but it seemed to be made of lace more than anything else. Her body was covered from her tight ass to freckled décolletage and yet the effect was even sexier than last night.

“Did you make that?” He swallowed, his throat suddenly dry.

She nodded and set the snorkeling mask on the bench. She spun around to show him her bare back, the effect swelling his cock. “It took me forever to figure out how to keep the briefs in the right place. The secret is buttons.”

With her hands on her hips, she tilted her pelvis forward. He closed his eyes as more of his blood rushed south. Did she have any idea the effect that kind of move had on a guy so horny he might very well take her up against the wheel of his own boat?

“No good? Hmmm, I’ll have to think on it some more. This suit is more structured than my usual. I need to start thinking of making things that will flatter different types of figures. Artistry might have gotten me noticed on bikini models, but I need something that sells well on a national level.”

He cleared his throat and decided to stare only at her face for the rest of the day. Except he even found the way she worried her lip with her teeth endearing. Damn it. “You look great. Maybe a little too great.”

“Are you fishing for an opportunity to use those condoms you bought? Just because you buy a girl some groceries…” She started laughing, probably at the way he winced. “Would you mind taking a picture of the suit? I need to send it to Holly.”

His fingers brushed hers and she handed him her phone. She climbed up on the deck, bracing one hand on the mast as she leaned back.

“Make sure you get the water in the background. She’ll need it to source the color.”

“Who’s Holly?” He took the shot, her flaming red hair dancing on the breeze a beautiful contrast to the white suit and turquoise water. He stared at the image, wondering if he should send it to himself.

“My best person. Friend, roommate, business partner, voice of reason. She made the brand contract happen for me. I told her where I wanted to be in five years with Sassy V, and she made it happen in two.”

“Wait, your line is called Sassy V, but I can’t call you Sassy?” To hell with it. He texted the picture to himself along with the only Holly in her address book. The island had a cell tower, but it wasn’t much use offshore. He wouldn’t get the picture until later, but at least he’d have it.

“You saw my usual design. It was a play on how sexy the suits are. Holly calls them muffin covers.”

Muffin? Oh, he got it. “So I should call you Muffin?”

She pulled her hair behind her and twisted it into a braid. “You can try. But this muffin is going to take advantage of the smoothest water she’s seen in ages. Care to join me?”