Page 87 of Never Too Late to Date

‘How very dare you? I’ve had my captain’s licence for twenty years.’

There was so much about him she didn’t know. The years between then and now were more or less a blank. It was a strange thought that although they’d shared such intensely intimate moments together, and even created a baby, after all this time they were essentially strangers.

Suzie pulled her hat low over her face. She was determined to enjoy her precious few hours off from the bar. Christian expertly backed the craft out, waving to all and sundry as he turned into the harbour, and the noise of people eating, drinking and chatting receded into the distance.

Once they entered open sea, all Suzie could hear was the sound of the engine as she lay back against the generous leather seat. She had a bird’s-eye view of Christian’s broad back and toned legs as he gently turned the wheel this way and that, keeping them on course.

Every now and again, a burst of spray would come over the side, giving her a refreshing spritz of cold water on her face and arms. There was nowhere to hide, no wheelhouse or awning to duck under to escape the sun. It was a boat made for summer days exactly like this one, and secretly she’d always wanted to travel in one, doing a Sophia Loren in a Hermès headscarf, not that she was going to tell him that.

It was impossible to talk while the boat was in motion anyway, which suited her perfectly.

A while later, she couldn’t say how long, as she’d closed her eyes for a moment, the boat slowed, and she opened them again to see a tiny beach in front of her. The sight of a restaurant with just a few sky-blue, painted tables and chairs beneath striped umbrellas, laid out on the sand, jogged her memory. She’d heard about this spot at the top of the island, and its reputation of serving simple but delicious fresh fish dishes, but she’d never been. It was apparently an ordeal to even book a table; it was so in demand.

Christian had turned off the engine and stood above her, smiling.

‘Hello, sleepyhead.’

‘What do you mean? I’ve been awake all the time.’

He lifted his sunglasses to show his laughing eyes.

‘If you say so. We can’t go any further in than this because of the depth of the water. So … bring anything you need to keep with you, and I’d advise you to strip off to your bikini to wade in.’

Suzie saluted.

‘Stripping off immediately, captain. Do you ask that of all your passengers?’

Christian put on an affected American drawl.

‘Only the female ones, obviously.’

‘Amusing.’

Sudden shyness stopped her from carrying out the command in front of him. Although he’d seen it all before, that was many years ago, so many years ago it probably all looked very different.

‘Turn your back then.’

‘Oh, right.’

He did as he was told, and she stepped out of her shorts and T-shirt and wrapped the sarong tightly round her, covering the area between her chest and her knees before he could turn back.

‘Ready?’

She nodded and tried to look away as he pulled off his polo shirt. He’d got an all-over tan from somewhere, that was for sure. He was no pasty Brit. She’d read that he lived on the Cornish coast now, which would explain the healthy glow, and the farm obviously kept him fit.

‘We have to lower ourselves in off the side. Do you need a hand?’

‘Nope, I’m OK, thanks.’

The thought of his hands on her was oddly disconcerting. She pushed herself off the boat before he could get anywhere near her. The water was cold on her calves and thighs, but a welcome contrast to the heat on the boat.

Christian showed her to a table right at the front which had a big ‘reserved’ sign on it. There was nothing between them and the sea but a pristine stretch of sand. As soon as the waitress had put the menus down, Christian waved across the view in front of them.

‘This is nice, isn’t it?’

‘Very nice. It must be costing a bomb.’

‘Well, I am on holiday. And it’s rather pointless just splashing out on yourself. It takes all the fun out of it.’