chapter FOUR
“What are you doing?” Those full lips let out a sound that’s deep, thick, manly, and frightening as all hell.
I freeze for a second before remembering what I came in here to do. Staggering my words, I try to form a coherent sentence. “I’m sorry. I was looking for Devon.” I grab the paper off the top of the piano and hold it up. “I am supposed to bring this to him.”
“Well, he’s not in here, is he?” Golden Eyes looks right through me. Even referring to him like that in my head makes him sound like a character out of a James Bond movie.
He is intense and way too annoyed with my being here. He is wearing black shorts, a white polo, and boat shoes. I’m assuming he is one of the crew. Surely he must understand how overwhelming this boat can be to a newcomer.
“I was looking for him when I saw the cello . . . I just had to see it, and then I saw the piano, and I . . . I just had to play.” I am rambling like a ninny. What is wrong with me?
It’s the eyes. They are definitely setting me off-kilter.
“You play the cello?” he asks.
“Yes . . . no. Well, not any more. It’s a long, awful story. And the piano was just calling me. I can’t explain it.”
“You play beautifully,” he says, his voice deep and melodic. Ugh, that sounds so ridiculous, even in my head.
I stop to think about what he just said. I don’t play beautifully. I suck at the piano. Clearly this guy needs to be schooled in music if he thought that was good.
“Thank you.” Even though he has no idea what he’s talking about, it’s best to be polite.
I rise from the bench and become very aware of my attire when his gaze skims my robe. I swear I see his pupils dilate, and I suddenly feel very, very naked.
“Can you tell me where your boss is?” I ask, trying to break the unwanted stare.
His head pops up. “My boss?”
“Devon. I don’t know his last name. My sister and I fell into the water, and I lost my bag. He was kind enough to bring us back here and let us change. I think someone is drying our clothes too.”
The man looks at me perplexed. “Let me get this straight. My boss—Devon, you say—rescued you and brought you back here to change?”
Clearly this guy is not going to bring me to his boss until I explain the whole story. “My bag fell in the water and it’s gone. We lost our passports, money, credit cards, everything.”
“We?”
“My sister Leah and I. She’s downstairs.”
He is just staring—hot-molten-lava-of-lust staring—and it makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. His right arm is bent at the elbow and he is massaging his wrist with his left hand.
“Devon said he knew someone at the consulate and could help with the passports.” I hold the paper out to him, again, and try not to make direct eye contact for fear I’ll go into cardiac arrest. “These are our passport numbers. If you could just give them to him I’ll go back downstairs and wait in the room. ”
Golden Eyes takes a few steps closer. His hand brushes mine when he takes the paper; I swear I actually gasp when his skin touches my fingers.
Why am I acting like this? I must have really hit my head hard when I fell into the water earlier.
He takes the paper but doesn’t open it.
He’s just staring.
And I can’t help but stare right back.
Mi sono persa.
I am lost.
Someone walking into the room interrupts the moment. I look over to see Devon enter wearing the clean polo shirt he put on earlier but has changed into a pair of black pants. “Asher, excuse me, I—”
“Ah, Mr. Smith. I’ve been looking for you.” Golden Eyes turns to face Devon.
Devon halts on his way in and looks at the scene in front of him. He must be wondering why I am standing in this room, where apparently I’m not supposed to be, in nothing but a robe, with one of his crew.
Golden Eyes turns to face me, and offers a hand, “I’m Asher,” he says, with a tone of uncertainty. “I work for Mr. Smith.”
It’s an odd time for an introduction, but I’ll take it. I hold out my hand and shake his, feeling the warmth of his smooth, yet manly hand. “Emma.”
Devon looks back and forth between the two of us. “I’m sorry, I think I’ve missed something.”
“Not at all, sir. I was just making the rounds and found this beautiful woman in your music room,” Asher says, leaning into Devon. “Your very private music room where no one is allowed.”
I open my mouth, feeling awful for intruding. “I am sorry about that. I was just looking for you and I got caught up. After everything you did for us today, I can’t believe I was so rude.” My voice is set to a pleading.
Devon waits a long moment before answering. Turning his attention to Asher he says, “May I have a word with you?”
“Yes, sir,” Asher says with a cocky smile. It’s odd for the level of tension that is currently festering. The two men leave me standing in the music room, still behind the piano trying to figure out what to do. I pretty much have only two options. Stay or go.
I feel like an idiot. I have to get out of here. The look on Asher’s face was of dissonance, and I do not want to face him again. Once he tells Devon, or Mr. Smith, or whatever it is I’m supposed to call him, about how I was sneaking around his yacht, Leah and I will be asked to leave.
Opting for option two, I open the door and exit into the hallway, relieved not to see Devon or Asher anywhere. I walk down the hallway and head through the main areas, down the stairs and walk my way to where Leah is.
I’m not in the room ten seconds before she’s on me.
“Where the hell have you been?”
“You don’t want to know. Are our clothes dry?” I ask, making my way around her and over to the phone.
“Not yet. What’s up with you?” Leah’s hair is styled in the perfect way she always has it. From the smell of her, she sampled some of the lotions and potions as lavishly as I did.
Sitting down on the bed, I hold up the phone to dial our hotel to see if they can arrange a transport from the boat. “I think I majorly overstepped my boundaries.”
“What did you do?” she asks in a high-pitched voice.
I shrug my shoulders, embarrassed. My voice is sheepish. “Played his piano.”
“Either that’s a euphemism for something I desperately want to hear about, or . . .” She pauses, “Emma, did you really play a piano?”
I shrug again and slowly put down the phone.
Leah moves over to the bed and takes a seat beside me. “That’s really good to hear.”
The look in her eyes is one of relief. It makes me feel terrible to see it there. Relief should be a good thing but it’s a reminder of the worry I’ve seen on her face before—and on everyone in my family, to be exact.
I wave my hands in front of me, wiping the air to change the tone.
“Change of subject. This guy walked in on me. He was beyond pissed I was even in there, let alone playing on what had to be the world’s most beautiful Steinway.
I mean, it was ebony and had to have been a model D—” The look on Leah’s face lets me know I’ve totally lost her.
“Anyway, apparently it’s Devon’s private room that no one is supposed to be in. ”
“No shit,” Leah says.
“Yes. And of course the guy was totally intimidating, and I was a total mess.”
“Was he hot?” she asks.
I lean back. “Excuse me?”
“He was hot,” she concludes, nodding her head and pointing her finger at me. “You have your I-just-saw-a-hot-guy face on right now. How hot was he?”
I push her away from me and she falls back on the bed. “Shut it. He was not hot.”
“Liar.” She says with a laugh.
I look down at my slipper. “Fine. He was . . . cute.”
Leah shoots up from her spot on the bed. “I knew it!”
With both hands, I run my fingers through my hair, pushing it away from my face. “Not the point. Devon is totally mad right now and probably isn’t going to help us.”
Leah calms down and takes in the gravity of what I’m saying. “God, that sucks. But the guy was super hot, right?”
“You have a one-track mind.”
She gives me a full-teeth, wicked smile, and I push her back onto the bed. She continues to prod me with uncomfortable questions about what the guy looked like, and I answer them, grateful she doesn’t want to discuss how I was playing the piano.
Her current fit of giggles is interrupted by a knock at the door. We both sit up straight and look over at the source of the knocking. We play one quick and silent round of rock, paper, scissors to decide who should get it. I lose.
I open the door and am taken back by the large figure standing in the doorway holding our folded, dried clothes.
Devon.
“Your clothes are dry,” he says, handing the garments to me. They’re still warm and have that fresh dryer smell. “Your passports will be ready for you tomorrow. I’ll have one of the crew pick them up for you. Were you planning on leaving before then?”
I swallow back my surprise that he is still helping us. “Um, no. We’ll be here through the end of the week.”
Devon nods and hands the garments to me. I take them.
He pauses for a second in the doorway, seeming unsure as what to do next. My free hand is on the door, anxious to close it and get back to getting the hell out of here.
Devon’s hand hovers over his pocket for a moment before reaching in and pulling out an envelope.
“This is for you.”
Confused, I release my hand from the door and reach out to take the envelope. “For me? I can’t imagine what . . .”
Christ on crutches.
My thumb pushes open the top fold of the paper as my eyes skim through the inside of the envelope. There has to be a hundred different bills in here, all of various amounts. Off the top of my head I would say, Devon just handed me an envelope filled with five thousand euro.
No sooner is the money in my hand than I am forcing it back into Devon’s.
“Absolutely not. I can not accept money from you.” Sure, he has tons of it, but to just throw it at me like a two-bit hooker?
Well, maybe that’s a little of an exaggeration.
I didn’t sleep with him. Unless he thinks .
. . “You must have the wrong idea. Thank you for the help with the passports”—I hold up the clothes in my arm—“thank you for your dryer, but my sister and I would like to head back to shore, please.”
I hope my words aren’t rude. He seems like a nice guy—but shoving money at us? Something doesn’t seem right.
Devon nods to both Leah and me from the threshold. “Mateo, our deck hand will escort you back to shore. My presence is needed elsewhere. Good luck, ladies.” We thank him again for his hospitality, which he accepts, and then close the door as he leaves us so we can change.
With my back to the door, I lean against it and throw Leah her clothes. “Get dressed quick. We are getting off this boat as soon as possible.”