Chapter 13
DANI
The white fabric of the pergola lifted and settled in the breeze, and Dani stepped back to look at what they'd built.
It looked good. The pergola was angled so the table looked straight out at the water, framed by the soft ripple of linen overhead and on either side.
Two chairs at a round table laid in white.
Three small glass vases of pale roses, low enough not to interfere with sightlines.
The Krug already in its bucket. Crystal flutes, bone china, and fine silverware.
The food platters in the temperature-regulated boxes beside the table.
Behind them, the cay rose into a low scrub of palms and seagrape.
Ahead, the water shaded from clear over the sand to pale jade to deeper blue further out.
There wasn't a single boat in sight. They'd chosen this beach because it was secluded—tucked behind a small headland on the lee side of an unnamed cay twenty minutes from Staniel.
"Stop fussing with the napkins," Lindsay said.
Dani looked down. She was re-folding a napkin for the third time.
"You're somewhere else today."
"I'm right here."
"Liar." Lindsay rolled her shoulders. "You've been miles away all morning."
Dani didn't reply as she placed a bottle of San Pellegrino in another cooler.
The truth was that her brain was miles away.
About two miles, in the direction of the yacht, where Jordan was presumably on the bridge.
Or maybe she'd gone back to her cabin to actually sleep because Dani didn't think either of them had slept much last night.
She'd been awake, completely consumed by how Jordan's arm felt around her, and she could tell by Jordan's shallow breathing she was awake too.
She must have dozed off at some point though, and when she woke up they were even more tangled and she'd practically jumped straight out of bed and into the shower so they wouldn't have to face each other.
That was seven hours ago and they hadn't spoken at all today. Zoe had had a meeting with Jordan so she'd brought up Jordan's breakfast and coffee, and Dani had been busy with the guests.
"Tender," Lindsay said.
Dani lifted her head. There was a distant note of an engine, threading in over the water from the direction of the yacht. Zoe was arriving with Patricia and Gerald.
"Good timing," Lindsay added.
Dani took a slow breath, brushed sand off her white slacks, and ran her fingers through her ponytail to make sure no strands had escaped. Lindsay did the same.
The tender rounded the point and slid into the shallows with Zoe at the helm.
Patricia was in the bow seat with a silk scarf knotted at her throat and Gerald was beside her in a pressed navy linen shirt, one arm around her shoulders.
It was their official anniversary today and Gerald had wanted to surprise his wife while the rest of the family entertained themselves at Staniel Cay Yacht Club for the afternoon.
Patricia looked up and when she saw the cay and the setup, her hand went to her mouth.
"Enjoy your lunch. I'll pick you up in two hours," Zoe said, helping them onto dry land.
Patricia walked up the beach towards the table, slippers in hand. She stopped a few feet short of it and wiped a tear from her cheek. "Oh, Gerald."
"Happy anniversary, Pat."
"You did this."
"Dani and Lindsay made it happen. I just asked them nicely."
"Come here, you." She turned to him and put her palm flat against his cheek. He covered her hand with his own and smiled. It was moving seeing two people still so happy together after decades.
"Mrs. Whitfield, Mr. Whitfield." Dani gestured towards the chairs. "Whenever you're ready."
Gerald pulled Patricia's chair out and took the chair opposite. Dani uncorked the Krug and poured two flutes, watching the bubbles climb. Lindsay set the first course in front of them with a quiet bon appétit and stepped back.
They retreated down the beach to the spot they'd set up earlier—two folding chairs in the shade of a low palm, a small cooler between them, far enough away that they couldn't hear the conversation but close enough to see Patricia raise a hand if they needed anything.
Lindsay dropped into her chair and pulled a bottle of San Pellegrino from the cooler. Dani sat down beside her.
"I miss bunking with you," Lindsay said. "It's only been a few days and I already feel like I'm missing all the gossip now that I don't see you after work."
Dani laughed and shook her head. "You haven't missed much. There's been relatively little drama with the family. Are you alright with Grace in our cabin?"
"Honestly? She's a saint," Lindsay said.
"The girl is pulled in four directions all day long and I have not once heard her complain.
Not even a sigh. She actually loves those kids.
The family are lucky to have her, and they don't have a clue.
" She unscrewed the bottle and took a long sip.
"She's also extremely tidy, which I appreciate after you and your hairbands. "
"Hey, I'm not that bad."
"Are you kidding me? There were sixteen of them on the floor when I cleaned before Grace came in. Do you leave your hairbands on the floor in the captain's quarters?" She raised a brow when Dani didn't answer. "That's what I thought. How's it going with the captain?"
Heat flared in Dani's cheeks as she made a vague gesture she hoped read as nothing-much. "It's okay. We talked a little last night."
Lindsay's eyes widened. "Captain Jordan does small talk?" Her eyes dropped to Dani's face and she grinned. "And what’s happening with your face right now? Your face is on fire."
"It's the sun."
"Whatever. So what did you talk about? Favorite sex positions? Whether she's a top or a bottom? I bet she’s a top." Lindsay threw her head back and laughed. "Whether she'd wear her uniform while she spanks you?"
"Lindsay!" Dani gave her a nudge and she nearly tipped out of the chair. "Just normal stuff. Boring stuff."
"Mm. Boring stuff." She let it go.
Dani looked at the water. Last night was still right there, ready to surge up the second she stopped concentrating.
The way Jordan's hand had migrated under her tank top by morning, palm flat against the bare skin of her stomach.
The way she'd lain there, wanting so badly to turn over that she'd had to clench her fists under the duvet.
A flash of arousal shot between her thighs.
Not now. Now is not the time. She shifted in the folding chair and crossed her ankles the other way.
But Lindsay had planted something else in her head, because suddenly she was picturing Jordan in nothing but her captain's hat, leaning over her in the berth, that low voice telling her to—
"Mains?"
Dani jolted. Lindsay was sitting up, gesturing down the beach. Patricia had finished her starter and was dabbing the corner of her mouth with a napkin. Gerald was leaning back in his chair, one arm slung over the back of it.
"Yeah," Dani said. "Yeah. I'll do a top-up while you plate."