Chapter 19
Half an hour later, we are laughing our heads off as Emir and I take it in turns to confuse Jackson with every move of our chess pieces.
Emir has promised to return the bracelet to its rightful owner (his mother) and leave his kleptomaniac ways behind him (lured by the promise of more chess lessons).
‘Do you want another drink?’ Jackson asks, getting up to help himself from the bar when we hear footsteps stomping up the guest spiral staircase and some muffled giggling. Jackson cranes his neck around the bar to catch Astrid and Shaun looking very dishevelled and rosy-cheeked. He darts me a look.
Welcome to my world.
‘Where have you been?’ he barks at them, frightening them half to death. ‘You’re supposed to be supervising the guests at Akmars.’
‘We are! I mean, we were.’ Shaun clears his throat. ‘I mean, we came back to do an emergency… erm, an emergency… erm…’
Blowjob?
Jackson strides over to them. Any fool can see what they’ve been up to. Astrid jumps in to save her lover. ‘We’ve been emergency stocktaking.’
I can see Shaun mentally groan.
‘Stocktaking what?’
Astrid’s eyes widen as she struggles to think on her feet (perhaps due to having spent such a considerable time on her knees).
‘Well?’ Jackson says firmly. ‘Where is it?’
‘Where’s what?’ asks Shaun.
‘The stocktake. Where is it? Where’s the list? The catalogue? The inventory? The itemised record of the stock you were taking?’ He sounds like he’s losing patience with them.
‘Oh… well, it’s all up here,’ Astrid says, pointing to her head as she tries to flirt her way out of the situation by twirling a strand of caramel-coloured hair round her finger and batting her lashes at him.
‘You’ve carried out an emergency inventory and you’ve stored it in your brain?
Because I think you’ll find the actual protocols for verifying and recording stock are clear as day in the LoveIt Holidays Representatives’ manual.
The one that you received during training and are legally obliged to carry out. ’
This is not going their way and luckily for them, Jackson doesn’t seem in the mood for their bullshit and appears to want to get matters over and done with.
I’m finding his aptitude for managing wayward employees very attractive.
I am simply riveted. Even Emir has frozen, his hand hovering over the squares on the board as we witness Jackson being all sexy (solely in my opinion) and commanding.
‘She meant we were cleaning,’ Shaun says. ‘Cleaning the… erm, cupboards.’ He flicks me a look. ‘The games cupboard. So that Maddie has all the games for young…’ He points to Emir. ‘Young whatshisface there.’
It’s all very lame. Even I could have come up with a better lie than that.
‘How very thoughtful,’ Jackson says, folding his arms across his manly chest. ‘I suggest you both stop skiving, get yourselves over to Akmars, and do your jobs. You’re not here to have fun.
You’re here to make sure other people do, so get the fuck on with it,’ he orders before swiftly turning around.
‘Sorry, Emir, please forget you heard that language.’
Shaun and Astrid scurry away as Jackson opens a bottle of the expensive red wine, pours two glasses, puts them down next to the chessboard, pulls out his chair and plonks himself down.
The irony is not lost on either of us as he grins cheekily, whispering loudly behind his hand, ‘Let’s hope they do as they are told and don’t come back to find me skiving and having fun. ’
This causes Emir to collapse in peals of laughter. ‘I want to be the boss when I grow up. It looks fun.’ Somehow, I think he will be.
The rest of the evening goes really well.
Without being asked, the chefs bring us up a delicious mezze platter of sizzling tasty koftas, salads and breads, a huge pot of homemade hummus drizzled with olive oil and sprinkled with paprika, rolls of stuffed vine leaves, skewers of spiced chicken and lots of little pots of dipping sauces.
‘This is so good,’ Jackson says after ten minutes of silence while we dig in. ‘I don’t think I’ll be in a hurry to reprimand the chefs. Shall we let them off? What do you say, Emir?’
‘Yes. I need them for their baklava. It is the best in the world.’ And no sooner are the words out of his mouth than a tray of sticky, sweet-smelling carefully assembled baklava is placed in front of us along with a traditional Turkish teapot containing hot apple tea and three little teacups.
After Jackson gifts the chefs a bottle of raki from behind the bar and orders them to take the rest of the evening off, we all tuck in.
‘Are you two married?’ Emir asks us.
I snort in a nostril of air. ‘Whatever’ – chuckle, snort – ‘gave you’ – louder snort, hiccup – ‘that impression?’
By the time the rambling and snorting fizzles out, both Emir and Jackson are frowning. I dab my mouth and talk in a normal tone. ‘Sorry, I’m not sure what came over me there. So, no, Emir. In answer to your question, we’re not married.’
‘Why is your face all red now?’
‘It isn’t,’ I say, my mouth stretched to capacity into a wide, awkward smile.
‘It is.’
‘No. I assure you, it isn’t.’ My face literally feels like an out-of-control forest fire. I want to throw my own drink over myself and rub my cheeks with ice cubes. But that would look even weirder.
‘It is red though, isn’t it, Jackson?’
‘Yep. She’s the colour of tomato soup.’ Jackson sniggers theatrically.
Emir is quick to catch on. ‘She’s the colour of my underpants.’ He lifts his T-shirt and pulls down his shorts waistband to reveal vibrant red underwear.
Oh, good. They’re making a game out of it.
‘Okay, I get the point. It’s a little hot tonight, and I’m still acclimatising.’ And while I love how great Jackson is with children and I could fantasise until the cows come home about family life and being married to this gorgeous man, the game has gone on long enough.
‘Why do you ask, Emir?’ Jackson grins at him.
‘Because you keep looking at each other,’ Emir says, innocently.
Could he be any cuter? I risk a brief glance at Jackson. I can already imagine telling the story years from now. And when I came out of the plane toilet, he was covered head to toe in baby vomit, and that, kids, is how I met your grandfather.
I snap back to attention as Emir finishes his sentence with glee. ‘And she keeps looking at your bum-bum.’
Christ.
Jackson visibly struggles not to smirk. ‘Is that so…? Right, right. Uh-huh.’ He looks down at the chessboard. ‘And whose turn is it?’
Three more games of chess, a mountain of pastries and me repeatedly looking anywhere but at Jackson, and Emir begins yawning. When his eyes begin to close and his head jerks forward, I put my arm around him. ‘Okay, time for bed. Let’s go.’
I half expect Jackson to get up and leave but he stays. His gaze is fixed on mine. ‘See you in a few minutes? Or however long it takes to jackhammer the sugar off his teeth.’ His eyes crinkle with mirth in such a sexy way it sends a shoot of electricity throughout my entire nervous system.
I try to nod casually and lead Emir slowly down the spiral staircase and to his absolutely palatial suite.
He has his own mini room, bigger than the one we have for three adults, adjoined to his parents’ bedroom.
His clothes have been unpacked, and someone has thoughtfully put his pyjamas on his pillow.
I help him get changed and brush his teeth vigorously before they rot in his gums.
‘Emir, why did you really run off earlier? When everyone was getting off the boat?’ He is half asleep and floppy in my arms. ‘Why were you pressed up against that window? What were you watching?’
As his head hits the pillow, his eyelids drooping closed, he mumbles to me. ‘I followed Garry to spy on him, but he was talking to a lady with tomato soup for hair.’
‘Was he? A lady with red hair?’ I say gently. No one springs to mind. Not one single guest had anything other than dark brown or bleached blonde hair.
‘I wanted to see if he was buying Rolex watches.’
‘Like the fake one he wears?’
Emir opens one eye. ‘No, Garry’s watch is a real Rolex. Market value over a hundred and five thousand dollars,’ he says before sleep takes him completely. If that’s true it would mean Garry’s watch is worth more than a three-bedroomed, south-facing house with front and back garden and a garage!
* * *
‘This spot check,’ I say as soon as I sit down opposite Jackson. ‘How do you think Garry found out about it? He warned us all you were coming.’
Jackson looks surprised. ‘Did he? But I only decided yesterday. There was one person I told because I assumed I’d be gone a half-day.’
‘Was it Erika?’
He nods. ‘Yes. She’s in Izmir with two of her team checking on the quality of a new hotel we’ve acquired. So I left a message with Banu at reception.’
‘Emir just said that he ran off to spy on Garry, but he was talking to a red-headed woman.’
‘And you think it may have been Erika?’
‘How many redheads have you seen since we arrived?’
‘To be fair, I only got off the plane from Sydney via Singapore just over a week ago. Before that, I flew to London and Newcastle to oversee the interviewing process. I’ve barely been here.’
Oh. My. Word.
I try to act casual as though he hasn’t done more travelling in the last two weeks than I’ve done in my entire life. It’s mind-bogglingly impressive.
Jackson shifts in his seat and leans towards me, dropping his voice. ‘Speaking of Emir. Can you trust him? He’s very clever but he’s just a child.’
‘He’s very astute for such a young age and incredibly articulate. I wasn’t playing chess like that until I was at least six,’ I say, causing Jackson to chuckle. ‘Seriously though, he says he followed Garry because he thought he was smuggling Rolex watches.’
Jackson’s eyes pop with surprise. ‘Sorry, did you say smuggling?’
‘Uh-huh, because he reckons Garry’s Rolex isn’t a fake but the genuine deal. Worth over a hundred and five thousand dollars. I mean, it can’t be true, can it? Garry doesn’t look clever enough to be running a scam like that. He’s more interested in showing off and being the centre of attention.’
‘There’s something off about that guy.’ Jackson gives me a pensive look as he drains his wine glass. ‘Be careful around him.’
‘I’ll try but he doesn’t make it easy. He’s got me run ragged while he swans around taking money off the guests for things they haven’t had.’
Jackson puts his glass down with a thump and suddenly the energy between us changes to something infinitely more serious.
‘Like I said, I’ll do some digging back at HQ.
Don’t say anything to him. And… I’ll organise for you to disembark at the next stop before Marmaris.
Again, I’m sorry. I made a poor judgement call.
’ He runs his hand through his hair, exhaling slowly. ‘That was some night, wasn’t it?’
‘Uh-huh.’ He’s so easy to forgive. Shocking really. ‘I mean, what was even in that last shisha?’
‘Hell knows.’ He pauses. ‘So, do you want me to reassign you back to head office?’
‘That would be great.’ I relax a little, relieved. ‘I’m not sure how long I can bear Astrid being seasick and arguing with Tiffany over whose turn it is to shag Shaun in the cupboard.’
Too much information.
‘Um. Did you say shagging in the cupboard?’
His words seem to hang in the air… Shagging… Shagging… Shagging. Until they sound more like a suggestion.
We lock eyes with a level of intensity that sends a bolt of electricity through my veins.
Surely he must be feeling it too. I search his face for clues.
He really does have angel eyes. My gaze slips to his mouth.
His full lips, skilful in the art of kissing.
Images of us on the beach rolling around together flash into my mind: his feather-light touch, hands wandering my hot flesh, the feel of his lean body against mine, our legs entwined, him grinding against me, my legs wrapping around him to press against his hard…
Jackson clears his throat, snapping me back to attention.
‘I’ll get going,’ he says, slightly flustered.
‘I’ll swing by Akmars before I go.’ He stands up as though to put some distance between us.
‘And then, when you dock at Selimiye Bay in two days, I’ll wait for you and let the team know we need you at head office.
Be packed and ready to go, yeah? They’re bound to kick off. ’
I nod, hiding my disappointment at him not staying to shag me in the cupboard. ‘Absolutely. And it may be best not to mention it to Erika, just in case.’
‘Agreed.’