Читать книгу The Secret Cove in Croatia - Julie Caplin - Страница 12

At exactly nine-thirty Ivan turned on the engines, taking his place at the wheel in the small cockpit area just off the lounge, and the yacht puttered its way out of the marina, heading for the open sea. The boat scythed through the waves, heading towards the green-covered islands in the distance as the sunlight sparkled on the water like silver sparklers.

First port of call was a cove just off a place called Sutivan on the island of Brač, where Ivan promised them the perfect spot for lunch and an afternoon of swimming and paddleboarding.

Breakfast had been relatively quiet as neither Tara, Cory nor Simon emerged before they set sail. Maddie wasn’t sure whether to be irritated or pleased; on the one hand it meant that there were plenty of pastries left over for the next day but, on the other, she’d had to hang on and hang on, leaving the breakfast things out in case they appeared. It also meant she had to tidy away while they were sailing, which was much harder as trying to balance in the small galley wasn’t easy.

She managed to get quite a bit done, singing to herself in the galley, making sure everything was prepared for lunch. Cured meat, a couple of big salads and the fresh bread she’d bought that morning. When she went on deck to check if anyone wanted refreshments, Cory and Tara had now emerged, both looking immaculate in tiny bikinis and matching sarongs, which happened to co-ordinate with each other rather beautifully. Was that accident or design? wondered Maddie.

‘Oh, cabin girl,’ said Tara. ‘Can’t remember your name. Do you have any orange juice?’

Maddie smiled pleasantly. She’d just put everything away and was about to go and clean the cabins and make the beds.

‘It’s Maddie and yes, we do; would you like some?’

‘Is it freshly squeezed?’

‘Um,’ said Maddie, putting on an apologetic face, ‘no, I don’t think it is.’

Tara sighed. ‘Please don’t tell me it’s made from concentrate. I can’t abide that.’

‘I’m not really sure. It’s a local make. So I’m guessing it probably is fresh.’

‘Hmm, have you got any pomegranate juice?’

‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘And I suppose it would be ridiculous to suppose you might have any coconut water.’

‘Yes,’ said Maddie.

‘What, you have got some?’

‘No, I meant … we haven’t got any.’

Tara narrowed her eyes and under her suspicious scrutiny Maddie managed to keep her face impassive. ‘Well, I suppose the orange juice will have to do.’

‘Stop being a bitch, T,’ drawled Simon. ‘The poor girl’s doing her best. It’s not like there’s a Harvey Nicks food store round the corner. The wrong orange juice is not going to spoil that beautiful figure of yours. Come and sit down and tell me all about that friend of yours that got booted off the set in Antibes last week.’

Tara’s eyes suddenly gleamed, avid at the prospect of the opportunity to gossip.

Maddie headed back down the steps into the lounge area towards the galley as Tara called, ‘No ice.’

‘No pleases or thank yous either,’ she muttered and then went pink as she realised that Douglas was sitting poring over one of the charts on the table, a pair of binoculars at his side.

He gave her a sly wink and a gentle smile before picking up the binoculars and peering out to the sea as if he hadn’t heard a thing. At breakfast he’d been so excited about their departure, peppering Ivan with question after question, peering at the charts with him, boyish wonder lighting up his rounded face. Maddie thought if he was presented with his own captain’s hat he’d be as pleased as Punch.

Cleaning cabins was her first port of call. Maddie grinned to herself. Port of call – see, she was right at home already. Grabbing her bucket of supplies, she mounted the small flight of wooden steps leading to the main deck, where she found Siri sitting reading a book on one of the padded seats hugging the V shape of the bow of the boat.

‘Hi, Maddie – isn’t this fab?’ Siri waved her hand at the view – the sunlight sparkling on the water, the choppy waves dancing up and down and the islands ahead of them shimmering with adventure and promise.

‘It’s a gorgeous day, that’s for sure.’

‘Will you get any time off to enjoy it?’ she asked, looking at Maddie’s bucket of cleaning supplies.

Maddie gave her a quick confiding grin. ‘I thought I’d do these cabins first, so that I could be up on deck.’

‘Ah, good plan. And what about later?’

‘Probably not. It’s dependent on what you lot get up to. When you’re on board, I’m on duty.’

‘No rest then, today,’ said Siri, her eyebrows dancing with mischief.

‘Not today, but it sounds blissful if you’re a guest. Swimming and sunbathing in a secluded cove.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Siri, her voice dry. ‘Cory and Tara are like a pair of toddlers; they’ll get bored before too long. I bet you anything Cory will start nagging to go ashore for dinner. And Douglas will give in because he always does. Why do you think we’ve got this whacking great yacht, big enough for about twenty people, and there are just six of us?’

‘He seems very nice,’ ventured Maddie, intrigued by the dynamics of the group and not willing to be drawn to comment. ‘How do you all know each other?’

‘Douglas is my sort of cousin.’

‘Sort of cousin? I’ve never heard of one of those before.’ She raised her eyebrows in a teasing grin.

‘Our parents are best friends. Like the best of friends. Do everything together. Parties. Holidays. And we’re both only children. I call his mum Aunty Margot. We’re the same age, even though he acts as if he’s ten years older, and we’ve been pretty much thrown together throughout our childhood and, yes, he is a lovely man, now. Bloody pain in the arse when he was fourteen.’ She pulled a face. ‘And at sixteen too, actually. But he got better. I quite like him now.’ Her eyes crinkled. ‘Ironically, now we’re not stuck with each other, we actually voluntarily spend time together and he’s one of my best friends.’ For a second she looked a touch wistful as her gaze drifted out to sea and then she raised her head and said in a much more matter-of-fact way, ‘Of course, now he’s all grown up he’s as rich as Croesus and …’ her eyes darkened ‘… in love with Cory. And I bloody introduced them. I’m a fashion stylist –’ she lowered her voice ‘– which is why Cory and Tara humour me. They know I could make them look crap on a photoshoot if I wanted to and we cross paths often enough for them to worry about it.’ Her sudden smile was positively Machiavellian. ‘Simon went to school with Douglas; they’ve been friends for ever and he knew Cory from his tennis days.’

‘Am I supposed to know who he is?’ whispered Maddie, looking over her shoulder.

Siri let out a deep, dirty laugh. ‘Yes,’ she said, widening her eyes in mischief.

‘Oh, heck,’ groaned Maddie. ‘Epic fail. He is some sort of celeb?’

‘He thinks he is.’ She paused before adding in a kindlier tone, ‘He used to play tennis – junior Wimbledon doubles finalist, twenty years ago. To be fair, he was pretty good, but he never quite made the grade after that.’

‘That’s a shame.’

‘Don’t feel too sorry for him; he seems to have built an entire career on it. And he’s not exactly steeped in regret and misery.’

‘Tara is Cory’s best frenemy – whatever you do, don’t get caught between the two of them. They’re either joined at the hip or spitting like cats at each other, but it can change in an instant. Never side with one or the other of them.’

‘And Nick?’ asked Maddie casually.

‘The new beefcake. Cute, isn’t he?’ Her eyes gleamed.

Maddie wrinkled her nose. ‘Not my type.’

‘Can’t see him lasting long; he’s not Tara’s usual type. Her usual preference is for someone who can get her onto a red carpet, into a good party or is paparazzi friendly. Maybe this time it’s something more.’ She lifted her shoulders in an elegant shrug. ‘He’s certainly easy on the eye and not a complete idiot, although time will tell.’ She laughed and waved her book at Maddie. ‘And I am a cynical old harpy. Been in the business too long. Douglas is the best one of the lot of them. Not much to look at but the kindest heart.’ Suddenly she lifted her chin, giving Maddie a quick sharp smile before she went back to her book.

Well, that was enlightening, thought Maddie, making her way to the first of the two guest cabins which were up on this deck, along with Ivan’s and hers. She was intrigued to see how the six guests had spread themselves out among the cabins. As the boat danced through the waves, the wind whipped at her short curls, which had escaped the ponytail she could just scrape her hair into, making her wonder how Cory would keep her incredible hair under control. The first cabin she came to was empty. Given that there were eight cabins between six people, of which four were couples, that wasn’t a big surprise.

The second showed a few sparse signs of occupation. A comb by the bedside table, a book and a phone charger. At the sight of the book, she paused. Someone after her own taste; she loved a good Dick Francis. This one was an ancient and battered copy. Then she smirked. A pair of salmon-pink shorts had been tossed onto the unmade side of the double bed. Pinching her lips, she folded the shorts and laid them neatly on the chest of drawers built into the bulkhead.

Then she frowned. It looked as if Nick was sleeping solo, not that it was anything to do with her. Quickly she remade the bed and gave the gleaming wood a quick once-over with a cloth. Everything had been cleverly designed to fit into the tiny room, the wardrobe built into an alcove, the bed tucked tight under the window and the bathroom a masterpiece in space saving. Nick was certainly clean and tidy and travelled light. Cleaning the bathroom took all of five minutes, wiping around a simple shaving kit, a small bottle of aftershave and the complimentary bottles of shower gel, shampoo and conditioner. She’d just finished in there when the door opened and she looked up to find a bare-chested Nick hovering uncomfortably on the threshold of the doorway.

‘Oh, hi. Sorry, I … er … I just came up to get my sunglasses.’

‘It’s your room,’ she said.

‘Yes. I … er … didn’t … um … expect maid service. I thought you’d have enough to do.’ He stepped into the cabin and it immediately felt very small.

‘I’m like Cinderella at sea,’ quipped Maddie, desperately trying not to look at his broad muscled chest. Being in the same tiny room as a half-naked man suddenly felt rather intimate and she was noticing a lot more about Nick than she had done earlier. ‘My work is never done. Would you like me to leave?’ she asked, her voice over-bright. No wonder Tara fancied him.

‘No, if I could just grab them from the bathroom, that would be cool.’

‘No problem.’ She moved to one side as he moved past her into the bathroom. ‘I see you changed your shorts.’

Moving down to the lower deck, she found that Douglas and Cory had taken the master suite nestled in the bow of the boat. Simon and Siri had a cabin each. His had enough male grooming product to stock a branch of Boots and Siri’s had a massive stack of books. And although it was quite untidy, with lots of bits of jewellery, scarves and shoes left lying around, all her clothes were put away.

Opening a few more doors, Maddie found Tara’s room and very nearly slammed the door shut again.

‘Holy shit!’ she breathed, standing in the doorway. Surely nothing short of a tornado had swept through this room. Even her sister Theresa’s side of the bedroom at home had never been this bad and on a scale of ten in the messy range Theresa punched well above her weight with an eleven plus.

‘Where the hell do I start?’ she asked herself, resorting to talking out loud because in some weird universe that seemed to help. Even Hercules would have turned tail at this task. Her initial flicker of panic was quickly doused by indignation. What an inconsiderate cow! Was Tara expecting someone to pick up after her?

Discarded clothes covered every inch of the bed, but when she turned to look at the wardrobe she realised every last hanger was full and dozens of pairs of shoes were spilling out of the bottom. Two wet bath towels had been abandoned on the floor.

No wonder Nick didn’t want to share with her. Every available surface was strewn with stuff. There wasn’t a spare inch to be seen on the dressing table top, which was covered with make-up: palettes of eyeshadow, a dozen lipsticks, most with their caps removed, at least ten eyeliner pencils and four different mascaras, while on the narrow shelf above the double bed were tubes of moisturizer, body lotion and a million vials and pots of things that Maddie had never even heard of. Midnight oil elixir, skin rejuvenation capsules, orchid oil, mattifying detox and oxygenating mister.

Gritting her teeth, she got to work. What were the chances of Tara appreciating everything being put in order? With the room done, she moved to the bathroom.

She was dismayed by the sight of once pristine white hand towels, dished out just yesterday, which were now make-up stained. The bathroom had been well used; the sink was filthy and the toilet … surprisingly, it looked as if Tara had tried to clean it, although she hadn’t done a very good job. And then Maddie felt a little less self-righteous. It looked as if Tara had been sick. No wonder she hadn’t eaten much last night at dinner. Or maybe she was seasick. It had been quite odd going to sleep the first night in the cabin, getting used to the bobbing motion of the boat. Maddie had brought a good supply of Stugeron seasickness tablets with her; perhaps she should offer one to the other woman. Maybe that was why she was so demanding this morning; she wasn’t feeling well.

The hazy islands shimmering in the distance gradually morphed into green-clad hills rising out of the sea and while Maddie was laying the table for lunch, prolonging the task just to be on deck, she could feel the palpable air of excitement among the guests as they neared the island of Brač.

Everyone stood on the bow watching as Ivan guided the yacht into a quiet inlet just off the rocky coastline where the scrubby trees came right down to the water. The water glinted in the sunlight, a deep beautiful turquoise. It looked like paradise.

When Ivan dropped the anchor it was the signal for lunch and she brought up big platters of antipasti: cured meats, grilled peppers, artichokes, olives and local cheese, along with a selection of salads and some of the fresh bread she’d bought in the bakery this morning.

‘Thanks, Maddie,’ said Simon when he came to the table, where she waited for everyone to be seated. ‘Looks delicious.’

Once they were seated, Maddie asked what everyone would like to drink.

‘Well, I think we should celebrate our first day at sea with a lunchtime bottle of Prosecco,’ said Douglas, putting his map down.

‘Or we could have Bellinis,’ said Cory with a definite hint of challenge in her voice.

Maddie didn’t say anything, just waited for the consensus.

‘I’ll stick with Prosecco,’ said Simon.

‘I’m not fussy; I’ll have whatever’s going,’ said Siri, relaxing against the back of her chair like a contented cat. ‘Drinking at lunchtime feels so decadent.’

‘I’ll have a Bellini,’ said Tara.

‘Would it be possible to have a beer?’ asked Nick, almost apologetically.

‘No problem,’ said Maddie. ‘One beer, one bottle of Prosecco and two Bellinis coming up.’

The serene, I’ve-got-this-smile lasted until she reached the galley. Fuck! What the hell was a Bellini? She dug out her phone, grateful she’d still got a couple of bars’ worth of signal. Prosecco with peach puree! They had to be flipping kidding. Cory and Tara were having a laugh. Those two were clearly in a constant state of one-upmanship.

Who the flip kept peach puree as a store cupboard standby? Going through every cupboard, she learned there was Chinese five spice, Jasmine rice, baked beans and tahini paste but no peach puree.

She did, however, find a very dusty tin of peaches at the very back of one shelf. Pureed peach coming up.

Maddie one, Cory and Tara nil.

Nick stretched lazily on the sunbed, his muscles nicely aching after the afternoon’s paddleboarding, enjoying the sun on his skin and the rhythmic bob of the boat on the water. The scent of pine and salt filled the air and as far as he could see the sky was pure, deep, glorious blue.

‘Nicky darling, will you put some sun cream on my back?’ asked Tara, unplugging her earphones and putting down the phone, to which she was addicted. She was lying on her front but had undone her bikini top and her bottoms, if they could be called that, covered nothing. It was officially the smallest bikini he’d ever seen in his life, not that he was complaining. That was one very pert bottom but he dreaded to think what his mother would have thought of the thong-style pants.

‘Sure.’ He rolled onto his side, sitting up and spraying the expensive suntan lotion onto her back and then rubbing it carefully into the nape of her neck, her shoulders and down her delicate spine.

‘Mmm, ooh, that is nice,’ murmured Tara, wriggling sinuously under his touch. ‘Can you do my legs … and my bottom?’ Nick swallowed and paused. She lifted her hips in quick invitation, turning her head and saying over her shoulder, ‘Don’t be shy.’

‘Who said anything about being shy?’ he countered. ‘I’m just admiring the view.’

‘Like what you see, do you?’ she purred in a low sultry voice, giving him another sexy smile before dropping her head back onto her forearms to watch him with lazy half-closed eyes.

He sprayed the suntan lotion along the backs of her legs, massaging the fine spray into her calves, working his way up her slim thighs, conscious of her constant gaze. When he smoothed his hands over the perfect globes of her bottom, she murmured, ‘Mmm,’ lifting her hips and wriggling her bottom, squirming at his touch.

‘I think I could get used to this,’ she said in a throaty voice that had his senses humming.

‘So could I.’ He stroked her soft skin, the firm gorgeous flesh filling his hands as he pressed his palms over her bottom. There wasn’t an inch of her that wasn’t absolutely perfect and as he rubbed his hands in small insistent circles, desire tightened his groin. He let it build as he continued to massage her skin, before sliding his hands up her back to rub a gentle finger over the nape of her neck.

He lay down on his side on the edge of his sunbed, his head next to hers, and leaned forward to lay a soft kiss on her pretty pink lips. ‘So beautiful,’ he whispered and she smiled up at him.

He kissed her again, tracing his mouth over hers, and put an arm over her back to pull her closer, longing to feel her stunning body against his.

‘Perhaps we should go back to one of the cabins for an afternoon nap,’ he suggested.

Tara shifted and let out a long mournful sigh. ‘Tempting, darling Nicky, but –’ she patted his cheek ‘– it’s imperative that I get an even tan. I need to do another half hour on my back and then half an hour on my front.’

‘That’s very precise,’ he teased, slipping his fingers under her hairline and caressing her neck, before sliding his fingers down her back, skimming her skin with a gentle touch. ‘Are you sure you can’t be persuaded?’

Her pretty mouth tightened and for a brief second he saw a flash of petulance on her face before she smiled, sincerity filling her rich dark eyes.

‘Darling Nicky, you know how hard it is being a model. You have to be on it all the time. And I don’t want Cory to be browner than me. We’re both up for the same shoot when we get back and they want someone with a good all-over tan.’

‘I’m sure a couple of hours won’t make that much difference,’ said Nick, nipping at her mouth with another gentle kiss as he put his arm around her shoulders, the sneaking thought batting at his mind that he was chasing an elusive butterfly.

‘It will,’ she said, her voice sharp as she shook him off. ‘And I’d have to shower and I don’t want to get my hair wet.’ She reached for her earphones and plugged them back in, tucking her head between her arms, effectively shutting him out.

Nick rolled over onto his back, hot and horny, but at the same time mortification burned his cheeks; he’d never force himself on a woman. He knew what no meant, but Tara had somehow managed to make him feel like some kind of overeager fumbling schoolboy. Embarrassed, as much by the signs of his physical reaction as the worry that he’d come across as some kind of sex pest, he rearranged his swimming shorts, grateful that they were baggy. ‘I think I’ll go for another swim,’ he said gruffly, not that she gave any sign of having heard him.

As he swung his legs over the side of the sunbed he looked up to see Maddie at the top of the steps with a knowing smirk on her face. He flushed and glared at her.

‘I was just coming to see if anyone wanted a drink.’ Amusement brimmed in her eyes, suggesting she’d overheard his thwarted attempt at seduction and thought it highly funny.

‘No, thanks,’ he snarled, his face burning as he walked past her down the stairs. For a moment it was tempting to push the dratted woman overboard. She always managed to catch him at the wrong moment.

As soon as he hit the water, the refreshing coolness calmed his bruised ego and he sliced into the waves in a determined crawl, wanting to put as much distance between him and the boat as possible. He focused on clean strokes, breathing and feeling the water stream over his body, working his muscles hard to burn up some of the antsy, edgy energy threatening to explode. Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe.

When his shoulders started to burn he slowed and eased into a more leisurely breaststroke, taking the time to look around. Maddie was probably still laughing her head off. Why was it she had the ability to make him feel even more out of his depth than he already did? It always seemed as if she saw too much. He flipped on his back to gaze up at the sky and let out a long sigh. Tara confused him. She made him feel heavy-handed and gauche sometimes, but then there were other times, when she gave him that dazzling brilliant smile, that he felt he could conquer the world and fell armies for her. They came from such different worlds; there were bound to be teething problems but they could get through those, he could adapt. She was so beautiful; she was worth it, wasn’t she?

He frowned; perhaps part of the problem was that he wasn’t used to all this inactivity. At home, by this time he’d have already put in a full day’s work, been for a run, walked several miles and put in some hard physical labour, shifting sacks of feed, building fences or wrangling sheep. Every day was different, although there was a constant reassuring cycle of familiarity. Looking up at the sky and the land in front of him, the dark green, the azure blue above and turquoise sea, he shook his head. How could he even think he was missing home when all this was on offer? He could hear his mother’s amused voice telling him, ‘You must have turnips for brains’. He smiled. He missed his family, that was for sure, but that was allowed, wasn’t it? Knowing his place, the banter with his brothers, the unconditional love and the sense of community. Shaking his head, he rolled his eyes. Surely he wasn’t homesick. He was a grown man, for goodness’ sake, having the holiday of a lifetime. His brothers had been green with envy when he’d told them how amazing the boat was. How many other people were invited on a millionaire-style boat trip?

Come on, buck up, Nick, he told himself as he started to swim back to the boat. So your girlfriend didn’t fancy a shag; it’s not the end of the world.

‘Hey, Nick,’ called Siri, who was bobbing about on one of the ridiculous flamingo inflatables when he reached the boat again. ‘We’re going to get the jet ski out, fancy a go?’

‘You bet,’ he called back. Yeah, his brothers would be seriously envious when he told them about that.