Forecast (17 page)

Rowie couldn’t help but roll her eyes slightly. “Every scientific fact started as a great mystery.”

“Perhaps. But it never benefited us until we understood it.”

“Oh Drew, magic and mystery have done more for mankind than facts and figures ever could.”

Drew would not be swayed. “It was the great scientific minds who changed this world. From Galileo …”

“Who was tried for heresy,” Rowie interrupted.

“… And Pythagoras,” Drew continued.

“Pythagoras was a Pagan. A mystic.”

“Really?” Drew looked unconvinced. “Next you’ll be telling me that Einstein was a Buddhist.”

Rowie grinned and scored another point. “No … but he was a vegetarian.” She reached out and took Drew’s hand. “These men understood that science and divinity go hand in hand. Look around. The weather hasn’t always been about computers. With nature you can gauge things differently.”

Drew reached over and gently plucked a blade of grass from Rowie’s hair. “Okay Nature Girl, what’s your forecast for the rest of the day?”

Rowie lifted her face towards the sky. Her gaze started to shift, but she looked strained. Something was wrong. She was blocked.

She tried again, squinting her eyes and really giving it her all. Same thing. She couldn’t understand. This had never happened before. She shook her head, disconcerted—frightened even—but quickly pulled herself together. She glanced at Drew, avoiding his curious stare, and moved closer towards him.

“You know what?” Rowie leant towards him, her tongue lightly flickering across his ear. “I can think of a much more enjoyable way to spend our time together.”

Drew couldn’t agree more. He rolled her back onto the blanket. “You’ve cast quite a spell on me, Miss Shakespeare,” he whispered.

Within five seconds of his lips hitting hers, Rowie forgot all about how the sky had just failed her.

Rowie stood on the marina and stared at the boats. Drew wasn’t kidding when he described it as a world unto itself. Each boat was completely different to look at, but fit perfectly as part of a bigger picture. It was as though they all belonged there together. The din of the city was muted, and apart from the occasional creak and slap of water against a hull, the boat basin was quiet.

Drew ushered Rowie along the wharf, giving her a run down of each boat they passed. “That huge monstrosity belongs to Dell and Kris. They live there with their six-year-old twins. Amazing people. Made a fortune in real estate but decided not to live in any of it. This pretty little sloop is Henry Hunter’s boat. He’s a single father. He lives there with his son Nick.”

“Isn’t he a writer?” asked Rowie.

“Yep, mysteries. They’re not bad. The
New York Times
called them beach books and Henry phoned them and said they were actually boat books. See that little motor cruise, called
I Presume?
That’s Frank Livingston. He’s 98-years-old … amazing. Oh, and this one belongs to Dawn and Pascal. They run a lesbian living aboard workshop at the Seminar Center.”

They reached the end of the wharf and Drew stopped. “This is her,” he whispered with a reverence usually reserved for newborn babies and Christian Saints.

Rowie read the name on the side. “Aspasia.”

“She was …”

“… Pericles’ lover. She was one of the most beautiful and powerful women in ancient Greece.” Rowie finished. “It’s a wonderful name for a boat.”

Drew jumped on, reached out his hand and helped Rowie board. He pointed out a couple of things on deck and then guided her towards the bow. They watched as the sun set across the Hudson.

When all that remained were a few streaks of orange, Drew led Rowie towards the hatch and down a small set of stairs. He flicked the lights on, and Rowie gave a cry of surprise as a large scruffy dog pounced her on.

“Norm, get down,” Drew yelled.

“So you’re the famous Norm? It’s nice to meet you.” Rowie exclaimed, immediately winning brownie points from both Drew and Norm.

Norm was placated and tottered off, and Rowie was able to have a good look at the inside of Aspasia. Drew was right to be so proud of her. The boat was classy and completely unique.

“This is the main saloon,” said Drew.

The room was all deep wood and muted colors. The furniture was built-in, yet still smart and comfortable. There was a large table surrounded by dark navy upholstered seats on one side, and a small round sofa that overlooked an entertainment system on the other. The floor was wood, as were most of the fittings, including a couple of bookcases filled with books.

“Don’t the books fall off the shelves in rough weather?” asked Rowie.

“Everything is built to stay put,” Drew explained. “Come and I’ll show you the galley.”

The galley had granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. It was narrow, but designed to utilize the space well.

“There’s not much room, but I can still cook up a mean lasagna here.”

“This is amazing,” said Rowie. “I had no idea boats could be so beautiful. Apart from those huge ones owned by people like Aristotle Onassis. My Gran always says yachts are for Eurotrash. She’s obviously wrong … again.”

“There are a lot of people who own boats for show, but the majority of boat owners just love the lifestyle. I’ve grown up around sailboats. My father has always been a bit of an action man. It was his way of rebelling from his rather dull family. I grew up flying and sailing. I love the water, the sea. I hate being caged in. It just makes sense for me to live here.”

Rowie stared at the curve of Drew’s chin, and the slight shadow of beard. She could feel herself being pulled into a vortex of fascination. She was interested in everything about him. His home suited him perfectly. It gave her a sense of who he really was. The simplicity of it put Rowie at ease. There was something so honest and refreshing about Drew Henderson and the world he inhabited, that Rowie couldn’t help but trust him.

“Come through here.” Drew took Rowie’s hand and led her through the saloon, past a tiny enclave with a radio and computer, and to the other end of the boat. He opened a door and pulled her into a bedroom. “My bedroom,” he announced. “What do you think?”

What could she think? The room was lovely. It had a large wooden bed on a raised platform, with deep drawers beneath. Behind the bed head were wooden panels. One wall was a wardrobe. Opposite was a door that led to a shower stall. The decor was a mix of wood, navy and white fabrics. It was the kind of bedroom that was relaxing and inviting. Perhaps too inviting.

“So you like my boat?” Drew looked like an eager child.

“Like it? I love it.”

The air was thick with tension. Rowie could hear Drew breathing next to her. She pretended to be interested in the doorframe. She was unsure of what to say, or do next. They were in his bedroom, which may seem convenient for some, but for Rowie felt terrifying. It was the same room where he had probably ravished countless women. Drew was the type of guy who ravished.

She turned and headed back into the saloon and looked at the framed photos attached along the shelves. There were photos of Drew camping with friends, on his boat, standing in front of what looked like Angkor Wat, with a man she presumed was his father.

“You’ve traveled a lot.”

“Forty-two countries and counting.”

“You make me feel like a complete homebody,” said Rowie. “Although I guess that’s what I am. I like to be near my family, close to home.”

Drew waved his arm around at his boat. “Me too now. Which is why I love my boat. I get to travel without leaving home.”

She stared out the window. The sky was dark. She imagined what it would be like out in the middle of the ocean where the starlit sky petered off until it merged with the ocean, heaven and earth indistinguishable in the darkness of night. Drew walked up behind her. She could feel his breath on her neck, his energy permeating hers.

“New York isn’t famous for its starry skies.”

“You still get a sense of it.” She moved away from him and sat on the couch. The carefree magic of the airfield had been replaced by something far more momentous in the privacy of Drew’s boat.

He sat down next to her, reached out and gently stroked her cheek. “I really enjoyed today.”

Rowie’s heart began to pound. “So did I.” She paused, uncomfortable, confronted, and then blurted, “I bet this boat comes in handy when you’re seducing women?” Oh God! She couldn’t believe she’d said such a stupid thing.

Drew looked amused. “I won’t lie to you. I’ve been seeing a number of women recently, but I’ve never brought any of them back here. The last woman to see my boat was my wife.”

Rowie nodded, too afraid to open her embarrassing mouth again.

“And she hated it. So no, you’re not treading in well-worn footsteps.”

Rowie had no idea if he was lying or not. It was the first time
ever
that she really couldn’t read someone. She had to decide for herself, without any psychic assistance, whether Drew was to be trusted. Normally she
knew
. Now she simply hoped.

It was crazy, but she felt so nervous. The kiss on the steps at The Grove had been mind-blowing. Rolling around in the field had nearly driven her insane with desire. But this was different. Being on his boat was the express train to sex, and it scared the hell out of her. What if she didn’t live up to his expectations? Or worse, what if he didn’t live up to hers?

Drew’s eyes burned into her. She felt incredibly shy, so searched the room for something to focus on, something to comment on, anything to break the tension.

“Is that a golf trophy?”

Drew grabbed Rowie and pulled her close. They were inches apart and she could feel his breath on her face. And then, gently, he moved forward, closing the gap between them as his mouth landed on hers. His kisses liquefied her body, her brain. His lips tasted fantastic. Rowie moaned and slipped into the same state of bliss she experienced outside The Grove. Time disappeared as they kissed and touched and stroked each other’s face and neck.

Finally, he pulled away. His eyes were almost predatory as they searched hers. “Will you come to bed with me?”

Rowie nodded, her normally cautious character submerged under overwhelming desire. Drew scooped her up and carried her into the bedroom. It was very
Gone With The Wind
… until he knocked her head on the door.

“Ouch! Owww.”

“Never like it is in the movies, is it?” he laughed as he tossed her on the bed and crawled on top of her. They stared into each other’s eyes, their breathing shallow and rapid. And then, unable to wait a moment longer, they tore at each other’s clothes, and finally, skin on skin, dissolved into each other. Her hand slid across his chest, down his stomach, until … she smiled. He really was perfect. She stroked him and Drew groaned. He was rock hard and felt like he was about to detonate.

Time vanished into each kiss, each caress, their breath, the heat, their energies rising. His fingers slid inside her and his mouth lowered onto her nipple. Rowie was grinding herself against him and begging for more. She grabbed at him, demanding he enter her.

And when he did, finally, she held his shoulders, using them to keep herself anchored to the bed, to reality, scared she would lose herself in the emptiness inside her head. She had never been so present with a man. They rocked together, until Rowie was unable to tell whether the fluid motion was from the boat or the connection they had. The rhythm got faster, more heated, and more urgent. They devoured each other with their eyes, their mouths, their hands.

“Oh Drew, oh, yes …”

He gathered her into his arms just as the shockwave jolted through his body, pumping, draining his very being into her. She tumbled over the abyss, joining him in one long, intense explosion, staring fiercely into his eyes, calling out his name as she slowly melted into a heap.

They lay melded together for some time, the silence adding to their momentous feelings and fears. Both were fully aware of where they were headed; yet frightened of the implications. Finally Drew spoke, trying to lighten the mood.

“I certainly never predicted that while I was stuck in traction and watching you on the news.” Drew wrapped his arms around her and smiled. He could feel a gentle tingling sensation in his chest, and silently thanked Delphine and her wacky hieroglyphics. For the first time in his life, he truly wanted the woman in his arms to stay there.

When Rowie woke on Sunday the bed was rocking even more than it had the previous night, yet there was no sign of Drew. As she climbed out of bed, the boat lurched to one side and sent her flying across the room.

“Shit!”

She felt panic rising, but knew that even if the boat was sinking, the wharf was only a dog paddle away. She quickly dressed and made her way on deck, only to discover all easily reachable land missing. A quick scan of the boat and her surroundings revealed that Aspasia wasn’t sinking; she was sailing, with an ecstatic looking Drew at the helm.

Rowie—carefully—made her way to the cockpit and sat beside him.

“Morning sleepyhead,” called Drew. “Figured I’d take you out for a spin.”

Rowie’s relief was obvious. “I thought we were sinking.”

“Not much chance of that. Although there are life vests under these seats and the ones in the saloon.”

“That’s comforting. I see Norm already has his on. Does he know something I don’t?” Rowie ruffled Norm’s head. He was slumped at Drew’s feet wearing a doggie vest.

“Norm has land legs. He’s fallen overboard a couple of times. I figure it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Rowie took in the view. The Hudson looked glorious from this angle, sitting on board Aspasia with her magnificent sails flying. There were boats of all shapes and sizes around them. She could see the Statue of Liberty in the distance. The water was dark and Aspasia soared across it with all the grace and might one would expect from the famed woman she was named after.

“Is there anything I can do?” asked Rowie. “Man the jib, hoist the mast … squeeze oranges to ward off scurvy?”