Chapter Six
Zoe
I sit back at the table, and Joel says he’s going over to the bar to get another bottle of champagne. I watch him go, then turn my attention back to the table. Emma has disappeared. Manu is sitting on my left. Joel’s empty seat on my right, with Hōri on his right, and next to him the older guy, Clive. All three men smile at me.
“Thought you’d hurt your ankle,” Manu says mischievously.
“That was an excuse to get out of dancing with someone,” I reveal guiltily, but they all laugh.
“Want to dance with me?” Hōri asks. “I like a bit of ABBA.” He dances in his seat to Dancing Queen , the song currently playing.
I smile. He’s super cute. I’m tempted to say yes so I can watch the vein pop in Joel’s temple, but I decide against it. “I think I’ll take a break if that’s okay.”
“Aw. Are you sure? I’m a better dancer than Joel.”
“Hōri,” Manu says. “Leave the girl alone.”
Half-amused, half-irritated that Manu thinks I need him to fight my battles for me, I reach for the bowl of foil-wrapped chocolates in the middle of the table and choose one as I change the subject. “So are you all looking forward to getting back into the water tomorrow?”
“Always,” Clive says. “How about you—are you excited to get onto the Relentless?”
“Very.” I unwrap the chocolate and pop it in my mouth. Mmm, it’s a strawberry crème. “Joel says you’ve reached the hold.”
“Yeah, and visibility has been great,” Manu says. “The weather looks good for the week, no storms or anything, so we should have good diving conditions.” He pulls out his phone and double checks the weather report, discussing it with Clive.
I feel a swell of excitement. I’ve enjoyed the few excavations I’ve been on, but I’ve never worked on anything like this.
Joel’s award rests on the table where he was sitting next to me. The trophies are made from Rimu wood carved into koru symbols, which are spiral shapes that look like unfurling silver fern fronds, and which symbolize new life, growth, strength, and peace. The name of the award is engraved across the middle, and Joel’s name has been added to the plaque at the bottom that bears all the winners for the last ten years.
Hōri reaches out and pulls the award toward him. “Nice carving,” he says, turning it in his hands. His gaze rises to meet mine. “Where are you staying?” he asks.
“At the Sea Breeze.”
He nods. “Don’t suppose you want to get out of here and grab a drink? I’m at the Kingfisher. They’ve got a nice bar.”
He’s coming on to me. My pulse speeds up a little. He has attractive light-brown eyes and a sensual mouth. Why shouldn’t I go for a drink with him? Joel and I aren’t dating. We’re friends, that’s all.
But I know I’m kidding myself. I don’t want to go out with anyone else. I’m here with Joel, and even if it’s not romantic yet, there’s something between us that’s more than just friends.
I feel a presence behind me, and then Joel leans forward and places two opened bottles of champagne on the table. “Everything all right?” he asks as he takes his seat.
I nod, unable to stop heat creeping into my cheeks. “Fine.”
His eyes meet mine for a moment, lit with a mixture of mischief and possessiveness that sends a tingle running down my spine.
“Weather looks good tomorrow,” Clive says, oblivious to any undercurrent at the table.
“Excellent,” Joel replies. “Should be good for a nine a.m. start, then.”
Emma comes back to the table and reveals she was talking to Tim Montgomery, the CEO of MOANA. “He told me he’s only interviewing you two for the Director of Operations job,” she says to Manu and Joel.
Their eyebrows rise at the same time, and they exchange glances.
“Did you not know that?” I ask.
“I assumed there would be five or six applicants,” Joel says.
Emma shakes her head. “He said nobody came close to you two.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” Manu jokes.
Emma pours herself a glass of champagne and gestures at the award while sitting in front of Joel. “That has to help your case, surely?”
He shrugs, pouring everyone another glass of champagne. “Manu has his award, too. And he has a connection with local iwi. That’s going to be important with the upcoming relocation of the offices and the excavation of HMS Steadfast off the Wellington coast in a few months’ time.”
“I’m clearly the superior candidate,” Manu teases.
“Not really much point in having the interview,” I say, and Joel gives me a wry look.
Emma grins, then says, “Well, it’s going to be a tough decision, for sure.”
We talk for a while, discussing plans for the next day, until eventually Joel finishes off the champagne in his glass and glances at me. “How are you doing? You want to make a move yet? A boat’s about to leave.”
I finish my drink. “Yes, I’m happy to go as we have an earlyish start tomorrow.”
We get to our feet, and the others wave goodbye and say they’ll see us in the morning.
Hōri stands, comes around the table to me, and takes my hand. “You sure you don’t want to take me up on my offer?” he murmurs.
I slide my hand out of his, conscious of Joel’s gaze on us. “No, thank you.”
Hōri sighs. “See you tomorrow.”
I smile at the others, slide my hand through Joel’s arm, and we head for the door.
“What offer?” he asks as we go into the foyer.
“Nothing.” I concentrate on wending my way through the crowd to the doorway leading to the boat. Joel goes first down the steps, then turns to lend me a hand as I descend in my high heels and step carefully onto the boat. He joins me, and we find a seat on the bench inside.
I shiver. It’s summer, but it’s cool out here on the water.
“What offer?” Joel asks again.
“He asked me to go for a drink with him at his hotel.”
He gives a short laugh. “Cheeky fucker.”
“Yeah, I thought so too.”
“So you’re not going?”
I meet his eyes. “No.”
He doesn’t say anything, but his gaze lingers on my mouth.
“I’m not going to bed with you, either,” I point out, shivering. I should have brought a jacket.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“No.”
“Are you sure?” He looks amused.
I haven’t caught him eye-dipping me, but when I look down I discover that my nipples are poking through the satin, so hard they could cut glass. I look back up. “That’s rude.”
“I was referring to the fact that you were shivering,” he says sarcastically as he takes off his jacket. “Give me some credit.”
“You don’t need to do that.” It’s a feeble protest, and I sink back into the tuxedo, wrapping it around me. It’s warm from his body heat, and I can smell his ocean scent. It’s oddly intimate.
He leans back, resting his arm on the seat behind me, not quite around me, but also lending me the heat from his body where he’s sitting so close. Wow, he looks so gorgeous in his white shirt and black waistcoat, and sophisticated in his black bow tie. It’s strange to see him clean shaven, as he nearly always has stubble or a short beard. And his hair is so neat, albeit a little more ruffled now than it was when he first emerged from his hotel suite.
He looks at me, and our gazes lock, and I can’t look away.
I wait for him to say something. To laugh or look embarrassed. To tear his gaze away.
But he doesn’t. He just observes me leisurely. He looks into my eyes for a while, studying something, I don’t know what, and then his gaze brushes over the rest of my face like a feather. I can almost feel it on my skin—stroking across my cheeks, my eyebrows, down my nose, across my lips, before returning to my eyes. I’m hardly breathing, caught up in the moment. My nostrils are filled with his scent and the smell of the ocean outside; I can hear the roar of the boat’s engine and the laughter and chat from some of the other passengers; I can still taste the champagne, along with salt on the wind. My hands are cold where they’re clutching the lapels of his jacket, but my body is warm inside it. Behind him, the southern stars twinkle in the black velvet sky.
“I can see the moon in your eyes,” he murmurs.
It’s such a romantic, un-Joel thing to say that I just blink.
One corner of his mouth quirks up, and then he looks away, across to the flickering lights of Paihia that are approaching at a rate of knots.
Only then do I take a breath, trembling a little, even though I’m not cold anymore. This guy is so enigmatic. I can’t quite figure him out.
The boat pulls up at the jetty, and Joel helps me climb out. There’s a minibus waiting to take the passengers to any hotels in Paihia, so we climb in, and soon we’re on the way to the Sea Breeze. It’s only a short distance, and we don’t talk on the way.
When we get there, we thank the driver and exit the minibus, and head into the complex and through the foyer to the corridor to our suites.
My heart is racing. I keep thinking about the way he said I can see the moon in your eyes . I’ve never been one for cheesy chat lines and I wouldn’t consider myself romantic, but for some reason that got to me.
We stop outside the doors and retrieve our key cards. I slip his jacket from my shoulders and pass it to him. To my surprise, he lifts it to his nose and inhales, then says, “It smells of you now.”
“Sorry.”
“It wasn’t a complaint.”
We study each other in the light from the lamp outside the suites. It casts a halo around his hair, which is ridiculous because he’s as far from an angel as it’s possible to get.
“You look beautiful tonight,” he says.
I swallow hard. Every part of me is yearning to invite him in. But I know—I just know—I wouldn’t be able to keep it to a one-night stand, and I don’t want more than that.
“Joel…”
He cups my cheek, his hand warm on my cool skin, and leans forward. My lips part as I inhale, but I don’t discover whether I’m about to utter a protest or a sigh of pleasure, because he just touches his lips to my forehead for a moment before moving back.
“I’ll meet you out here at eight a.m., okay?” he asks.
Dumbfounded, I just nod.
His eyes look black in the semi-darkness, the pupils huge. “Goodnight.”
“’Night.”
We touch our key cards to the doors and go inside.
I walk through to the bedroom, toss my bag on the bed, and take off my sandals. Then I walk across to the window that overlooks the resort and, beyond that, the vast expanse of the Pacific Ocean. The moon is high in the sky and has cast a silvery path on the sea that looks almost traversable.
I can see the moon in your eyes.
Frowning, aching both physically and emotionally, I turn away and head to the bathroom to get ready for bed.
*
I sleep well, tired from the champagne and the dancing and the whole emotional rollercoaster of being near Joel all the time. My alarm wakes me at seven, and I rise and shower, then dress in shorts, a tee, and flat sandals. There’s no point in dressing up as I’ll be in a wetsuit for most of the day, and I don’t bother putting makeup on either.
I separate my belongings, putting my wetsuit and anything else I might need for the day like sun lotion, hairbrush, and bottles of water, into my backpack. A few minutes before eight, I head out of the door and discover Joel standing outside with his case, looking at his phone.
“Morning, Aquaman,” I say.
He looks up, and his gaze slips down me so briefly that I think I imagined it before his eyes return to mine.
“Normal service has been resumed,” I add, taking in his scruffy hair, his stubble, his faded gray tee and swim shorts, and his incredibly old and well-worn Converses that are frayed in several places. He has nice legs, though—tanned and well-muscled with just the right amount of hair that the sun has turned a light golden-brown.
Come to think of it, now I can see him clearly in the bright January sunshine, his dark-brown hair also has lighter brown and golden highlights. His eyes look very blue, with orange and gold flecks near the pupil that make them look like clear water brushing over a stony beach.
Jesus, listen to me. He’s turning me into Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
“There’s not a lot of call for tuxedos in maritime archaeology,” he says. “Last night was an exception.”
“You do brush up well though,” I say as we start heading toward the foyer.
“Well, thanks for that.” He glances at me, amused. “I suppose you want a compliment now, too?”
“Of course not. Although it would be polite.”
He chuckles, then stops as we approach the desk to hand in our key cards. “I told you how beautiful you looked.”
“That’s true. That was last night, though.”
He looks at my mouth for a moment, and I have to fight not to moisten my lips.
Then he leans close to me, so his mouth is near my ear. “I thought of you last night,” he murmurs.
I blink and frown at him. “What do you mean?”
His lips curve up. Without answering, he takes my key card from me and goes over to the desk to hand them in.
While he chats to the receptionist, I stare at his back. Did he mean… was he saying he thought of me while he was alone?
While he touched himself?
OMG.
He finishes the conversation and comes back to me, collects his case, and gestures with his head toward the exit. “Come on.”
I follow him, my head still spinning. We go outside, and he leads the way down to the car park.
He glances at me. “What’s the matter?”
“I… um… Joel!”
“What?”
“Were you saying you thought about me while you… you know…” I make a hand gesture.
He bursts out laughing. “No! I meant that I dreamed about you.”
“Oh.” My face burns.
He notices, and his eyes twinkle. “You’ve got a dirty mind.”
“You’re a liar. You did mean that, and you’re trying to make me feel bad about it.”
He just chuckles and unlocks the car, then lifts my case into the boot. Grumbling, I get into the passenger side.
He gets in the driver’s side and closes the door. He’s still chuckling as he turns the engine on.
“You’re so wicked,” I scold.
“You’re the one who jumped to conclusions.” He reverses out, then heads the car back toward the main road.
“So you didn’t think of me while you polished the banister, then?”
That makes him laugh. “Might have.”
“I knew it. Was I good?”
He gives me an amused glance. “Always.”
That implies he’s thought of me when he’s done it before. Heat spreads through me. Wow, that’s a turn on.
No, no, no, I mustn’t think of Joel Bell and sex in the same sentence. I mustn’t think about him pushing down his boxers, taking himself in hand, and giving himself long, slow strokes as he tips his head back and closes his eyes…
I clear my throat. “So where are we off to?”
“Opito Bay,” he replies, naming a small bay on a peninsula of land the other side of the Kerikeri Inlet. “We’ll pick up the boat there and head out to Moturoa Island, close to the Black Rocks, which is where the Relentless is.”
“Is there anything on the island?”
“There’s a coastal battery of two guns that was erected in 1942 as part of the series of defenses that were set up around the coast to stop the advance of the Japanese through the Pacific. The Department of Conservation set up a hut there at the east end of the island for emergencies. There are a few houses on the west side. The rest of it is fringed with forest. No other landmarks.”
“And the guys are meeting us there at nine?”
“Yeah.”
I’ve been to the Bay of Islands a couple of times, once on a school trip to Waitangi to see the Treaty and the place it was signed, another time on a family holiday that we spent mainly in Paihia. But I haven’t been further north than Kerikeri, so I’m looking forward to the trip.
Joel instructs me to Bluetooth my phone to the car’s entertainment system. I set some music playing, and we settle back for the journey.
The road leading to Kerikeri is lined with roadside stalls selling blueberries, oranges, lemons, avocados, and tomatoes, while the town itself is full of coffee shops whose tables spill onto the pavement. Locals and tourists sip lattes beneath towering palm trees. Orange and blue flowers of birds-of-paradise plants provide a splash of color, as do blue and purple lobelia and pink geraniums that tumble out of hanging baskets outside the shops.
“I like the album,” he says as he navigates the one-way system.
“It’s Troy Kingi,” I reply, naming a popular Māori artist who lives locally. The song playing, All Your Ships Have Sailed , is funky and moody, perfect for a hot summer’s day. “Seemed appropriate.”
“Yeah, it’s terrific.”
He takes the road out of town, and soon we’re on Redcliffs Road, heading east toward the coast. The landscape opens up, revealing we’re on a peninsula, with Te Puna Inlet on our left and Kerikeri Inlet on our right. It’s a beautiful drive, with rolling fields and forests, huge houses and farms nestled in the dips, and the glorious bright blue ocean on either side. He follows the signs for the Cruising Club and the Marina, turns down a steeply sloping drive, and then we emerge onto a large car park facing before at least five long piers lined with boats.
“Wow.”
“I know,” he says, driving down to a space near the front and parking. “Gorgeous day for it, too.”
We get out and collect our backpacks, leave our cases locked in the car, and I follow him down to one of the piers and along to a boat at the end.
I’m not a sailor and know nothing about boats, but Joel told me this one is a 750 Pro Dive Boat belonging to MOANA, called, somewhat awfully, The Codfather . It looks like the perfect size for the six of us. Emma and Clive are already there, getting everything ready. Joel walks me through the archaeological equipment—the brushes and other handheld tools, the clipboards and waterproof drawing slate, waterproof paper, pencils, tags and cable ties, tape measures, diver’s compass, flagging tape, a hand-held GPS, an underwater metal detector, an underwater camera, and lots of other bits and pieces. He’s incredibly knowledgeable and knows all the equipment inside out.
It also becomes clear to me as the others turn up that even though Joel is the youngest, he’s obviously in charge of the team. Hōri and Manu, already in their wetsuits, follow his instructions to check the scuba equipment. Clive is in shorts and tee, and it turns out that he and Emma will be staying on board, looking after the boat and all the equipment while the rest of us dive.
As I struggle into my wetsuit, I feel a bubbling sense of excitement. My days are usually spent in the conservation room at the museum, or working on exhibitions, so it’s a chance to get my hands dirty and my feet wet for once.
And I can’t deny that part of my excitement is about spending the day with Joel. It’s just because he’s a good friend, I insist privately, but I know I’m fooling myself. I still have no intention of getting involved with him, but a girl can fantasize, right?