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Jewel laid out the process of the procurement and Mendoza nodded emphatically. Then the two factions followed the older man to an enormous outbuilding that housed the yacht.
He explained to Jewel, this time in English, “The yacht was out of the water at the time Hurricane Odile hit in September 2014. She suffered much damage, as I’ve already shown you with the photos I e-mailed. Many of my businesses were ravaged—like so many other proprietors’. My resorts were my first consideration. I had to rebuild and that required the vast majority of my resources. So much so that I could not allocate money to repair the yacht. And since I’d had it out of water after I’d purchased it sometime before the hurricane, I didn’t yet have insurance on it that would have covered some of the damages.”
He held his hands up in the air, looking a bit devastated, a bit remorseful, a bit hopeful—the latter related to Jewel potentially alleviating him of the financial burden.
She smiled and said, “I’m sure we can mutually benefit each other.”
Vin stepped in with the file folder she’d given him, and Jewel’s team inspected the hull and initialed photos to attest that what was depicted in the screenshots was true in reality. Then they climbed the ladder and boarded the ship, completing the process.
Once satisfied with the inspection, Jewel and her people conferred. Then she and Mendoza signed the legal documents. Jewel contacted her Accounting department via speakerphone and the pre-arranged electronic transfer of funds was completed. The security and transportation specialists on both sides went into a heavy dissertation on the strategy for moving the yacht from San José to Las Vegas.
Her business concluded—and evidently feeling quite pleased with herself—Jewel linked arms with Rogen and Vin and said, “Let’s celebrate.”
FOURTEEN
Jewel could almost breathe.
The first dot had been connected. So … yay! She’d phoned Bayli and Scarlet on the way into Cabo San Lucas and let them know she’d succeeded with stage one.
Then she, Rogen, and Vin arrived at the private condo on the marina in the heart of Cabo, overlooking the harbor, Lover’s Beach, and the stunning rock formation of Land’s End. They caught a spectacular sunset over the gulf and the ocean beyond. Then dressed for a casual dinner. Vin still wore dress pants but changed into a polo shirt.
All in black. Which made him even more devilishly handsome.
Rogen opted for board shorts, a muscle shirt, and flip-flops. So sexy.
Jewel put on a deep-teal-colored sequined string bikini. She tied a skimpy mesh sarong around her waist that matched in color. Stepped into decorative thongs. She took the men to one of her favorite beach restaurants. An open-aired palapa-topped establishment with excellent views of El Arco and the craggy walls of the far side of the harbor.
Tiki torches illuminated the beach and the crashing waves. Semi-buried railroad ties with sand filling the cracks between and partially covering the wood served as the dance floor in the restaurant. A live band entertained the crowd.
Jewel ordered a bottle of the internationally famous Cabo Wabo silver tequila and a combo of lobster tails and zesty carne asada “street” tacos.
The server delivered warm, crispy tortilla chips and fresh pico de gallo as an appetizer. He brought over the tequila for her to approve. Set out three shot glasses and a bowl of limes sliced lengthwise. She sampled the smooth tequila and then gestured for the server to pour for them all.
They toasted and slammed the first shot. Two shots later, when the lobster and tacos arrived, Jewel had a nice buzz going.
“I’m thinking this evening should not be featured in our ‘About Us’ portion of the Web site for our inn and winery,” she announced.
Rogen chuckled. “Agreed. We should definitely leave the tequila and feast out of the PR materials.”
“And…” she said before pausing to lick the crook between her index finger and thumb, sprinkle a little salt on it, down another shot, and then suck on a lime. When warmth spread through every inch of her, she continued. “The dancing.”
Rogen’s brow crooked. “There will be no dancing.”
“Oh, but there will be.” She tossed a look in Vin’s direction. He scowled at her. It made her laugh. “Sometimes you’re too surly when I know you want to lighten up.”
“Clearly, you’re reading me all wrong,” he said mockingly.
She waved a dismissive hand toward Vin. Told Rogen, “We took a trip to Tijuana with Scarlet and Bay—and, yes, Jonathan. After I turned eighteen. Got completely trashed and learned how to salsa dance. Maybe lambada, too, but at that point everything was a bit fuzzy.”
Rogen gave her a sexy grin. “I bet you set the dance floor on fire.”
“Not sure,” she said with a little shake of her head. “I only remember bits and pieces of that night. But—” She returned her gaze to Vin. Insisted, “You did dance.”
“Muy loco,” Vin quipped as he swirled a finger in the air, close to his temple. “She has no idea what she’s talking about. It’s the tequila.”
Jewel reached for a packet of Wet-Naps and cleaned her hands. Then she thrust a packet toward Vin. “Tidy up there, my friend. Because we’re going to show these people how it’s done.”
She pushed her chair back and stood. A wee bit wobbly, but she was wearing flat thongs, so she felt stable enough to dirty up the dance floor with Vin. Who never backed down from a challenge or a dare. He set aside his used Wet-Nap and got to his feet.
