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“Really?”
I lean into her personal space a bit. “Yes, stop trying to paint me as a monster.”
She smiles. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m not a very good artist.”
I lean back, opening the door. “Ready?”
Clementine exits the car, glancing up with a smile toward the sun. “I am.”
We walk across the weathered-wooden dock and I help her onto the boat, watching her ass in the tiny white shorts she’s wearing. “You named your boat ‘The Prince is Right’?”
I laugh. “Sure did. Just likeThe Price is Right, but mine is ...I’m right.”
She smiles, laughing as she does. “Oh, I get it, Mr. Ego.” She steps further onboard. “It’s actually kind of clever.”
I waggle my eyebrows at her.
“But, completely wrong,” she teases.
The captain steps closer, and I shake his hand, and then Clementine and I head down below to change into our bathing suits.
“You don’t play around,” she marvels as I lead her to a room to change.
“Nope,” I say with a grin.
The cabin is a haven with comfortable furniture, russet-tined fabrics, and elegant cherrywood joinery. The lower deck features a sauna and separate Turkish bath.
Once she’s settled, I slip on a pair of black board shorts and head back out onto the sole of the boat. The deck crew gets to work on setting sail for the small cay off the coast of St. Thomas. It’s closer to St. John, a neighboring Virgin Island, and in about thirty minutes sail time we should be close enough.
The cay is so remote there’s no way my hundred-foot custom Ketch sailing yacht can dock there. So, I plan a little excursion, keeping my boat anchored a little ways away while we kayak the rest of the distance.
The clear blue water, sunny sky, and soft-summery breeze relaxes me. It’s enough to make me wish we never had to go home.
Clementine steps out of the cabin, looking sexier than hell in a jet-black bikini with a teal sarong wrapped around her trim waist. Black sunglasses hide her eyes from me.
“Wow, I feel like I’m Rose on theTitanic.” She leans against the taffrail of the sailboat.
“Yeah, only difference is this boat is not going to sink,” I say with confidence, stepping closer as the captain sails us through the aquamarine waters to the cay.
I can barely see the tip of greenery of the miniscule island, and smile.
“That’s Henley Cay,” I say, pointing to the small spot of land covered with trees encased by a sandy beach. “We’re going to kayak there. Have you ever kayaked?”
“Only once, when I was a little girl. But, I’m sure I can handle it.”
“I’m sure you can, too.” Without thought, I wrap my arm around her waist and lean in to kiss her.
She doesn’t pull away. I press my lips against her soft ones, and enjoy the moment with her. I keep waiting for her to push me away, but she never does.
I deepen the kiss, running my fingers through her breeze-blown hair, wanting more than anything to taste every bit of her. This is one thing I think I might love about Clementine—her hair. Silky, soft strands of dark auburn temptation.
I break the kiss the moment the word love enters my brain. No, not love. I like her hair more than I’ve ever liked another woman’s hair. I chuckle, stepping back. That’s it. I just like her hair a lot.
“What’s wrong?” Clementine asks. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I rub at my bottom lip. “I...uhh. Nothing.”
She turns to look back at the cay. “It’s so beautiful here. I wish I could live here forever.”
