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But then, their marriage had never been about flirting. Their marriage had been strictly business.
Now their marriage was open season—nothing was off-limits.
The Captain led them through to a plush saloon, where he introduced them to the four other crew members. ‘I’ll leave Jim here to show you around,’ he said. ‘It’s time to set sail.’
‘Can I order you any refreshments before I give you the grand tour?’ Jim asked.
‘I think we could both do with a coffee,’ Nico said quickly. He wanted to make sure they were far from shore before he sprang his next surprise.
‘I’d love a cappuccino, thank you,’ said Rosa. She walked over to the wide window and gazed out, giving him an excellent view of her rear.
His wife had proper womanly curves. The cream linen trousers she wore accentuated the shape of her rounded bottom, and the pale pink blouse displayed her tiny waist. Not for the first time he marvelled that he had been so blind to it.
After they had finished their coffee, and he judged they had sailed far enough that she would not attempt to swim back to shore, he announced it was time for the tour.
‘I thought Jim was going to do it,’ she said.
‘There is no need to disturb him. I am well acquainted with the yacht’s interior.’ He threw out his arms expansively. ‘As you can see, this is the saloon. Through that door is the dining room, which leads on to the gym. The lower deck is of no relevance to us, but the upper deck...’ He smiled.
* * *
Rosa did not trust that smile. And nor did she trust the gleam in his eyes. ‘The upper deck, what?’
‘Come. I will show you.’
As soon as they set foot inside the door at the top of the stairs she knew she had been right to be suspicious.
‘Is this some kind of joke?’
The entire top deck was a suite. Not just any suite, either. This was a suite designed for lovers.
The bed, all scarlet silk sheets and soft, plump pillows, easily took up a third of the space. It did not so much dominate. The bed was the space. A whole cabal of honeymooners could sleep on it. Everything was designed around it.
Bed! Sex!
She might as well scream the words out because this suite was designed with nothing but sex in mind. Even the swimming pool—yes it had a heart-shaped swimming pool at one end through some patio doors—was an extension of the romantic and yet somehow erotic theme. Whoever had designed this suite should either be commended for an award or shot.
‘Nice try,’ she said, backing away. ‘You can spend the day in this boudoir. Me? I’m going to sit in the saloon and drink lots of vodka.’
‘Look in the dressing room,’ he instructed, pointing at a door.
She’d bet he’d had a minuscule bikini put there for her.
She was right. What she had not anticipated was the amount of other clothing neatly hung in there too.
Spinning round to face him, she put her hands on her hips. ‘How long are we staying here?’
‘A week.’
There was no other word for it. ‘Bastard.’
When she would have walked out, there and then, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her to him. ‘Come outside with me for a minute.’
‘No. I’m going to see the Captain and demand he return us to shore.’ She tried to shake him off but his grip was too strong.
‘It will not make any difference.’
‘Why? Have you paid him off?’
He didn’t even have the decency to look shamefaced.
‘You bloody well have, haven’t you?’
Nico released his grip and tugged at her hand. He led her outside, past the swimming pool to the front of the yacht. She was so steaming mad she let him.
‘Look at this scenery,’ he said once they were standing side-by-side, holding on to the railings. ‘Look at the calm of the ocean. You need a holiday. I need a holiday. Neither of us has taken any time off for over a year.’
She had to admit there was something rather soothing about the glistening ocean. ‘Yes, I need a holiday. One far, far away from you. I can’t believe you would do something so...so...’ She scrambled around in her fried brain for the correct word. ‘So sneaky.’
‘I had to be sneaky because I knew you wouldn’t agree to it otherwise.’
‘Too right I wouldn’t have.’
‘Forgive me for being underhand. I am trying to save our marriage. Desperate times call for desperate deeds.’ He gave her a crooked smile and lightly covered her hand with his. His wedding ring glistened under the beaming sun. ‘You said you would give me a month, but it seems to me you have already made up your mind that our marriage is over.’
‘Other than flirting with me, you haven’t done anything to convince me otherwise.’
