She took a breath as if she were going to speak. I understood why she wanted to question me, but I really had nothing to hide. She was trying to walk the tightrope between her duty to the captain and her duty to me and completely irrationally, I wanted her to trust me. To know that I wouldn’t do anything to compromise her. To want to do anything I asked.
I pushed my hands in my pockets to stop myself from reaching for her and providing her with some kind of physical reassurance. “Honestly, it’s just legal papers that I have to read. You can trust me.”
She could trust me. She was smart to be cautious, but she didn’t need to be cautious of me.
“Okay.” She checked her watch. “I’ll have to leave soon. Eric will have to take me, though. Can I tell Eric or am I pretending to buy you a cake?”
I smiled at her desire to do the right thing by me. Was it because it was me or because I was a guest? Obviously it was because I was a guest—one of hundreds she’d fulfilled requests for during her career.
“You’re just collecting some documents for me—this isn’t Mission Impossible.”
She glanced down at the piece of paper I’d given her. “I’d better get going then.” She turned to leave, but I reached out and caught her arm. She gasped and the sound sent a jolt of lust right to my cock. Her gaze slid from where we were joined to my eyes. She pressed her lips together as if she were stopping herself from saying something. I blinked, trying to fight off the attraction I was feeling.
“Thank you,” I said.
She nodded, then headed back through the sliding doors. I’d gotten used to her easy smile and professionalism far too quickly, felt comfortable with her far too easily. It was inexplicable. I was in a state where I was suspicious of everyone, questioning everything yet as Avery Walker disappeared, I imagined smoothing my palm down her naked back and whispering all my secrets to her.
Nine
Avery
The wind cooled my warm cheeks as the tender headed toward the coast. I sat in the back while Eric steered, trying to calm my racing pulse. I turned to see Hayden Wolf leaning on the railings of the main deck, facing in this direction. Was he watching me? When he’d grasped my arm earlier, had he meant to? Was it concern, thanks or something else he was trying to convey with his touch? Perhaps it was because he was the only guest and I was the only person he spoke to onboard, but I’d begun to feel an affinity, something more than physical attraction, a pull toward him. I wanted to help.
I turned back to face the shore.
As Mr. Wolf had predicted, Eric didn’t question me further when I said I had to pick up some documents from the shore, even though I’d made up some elaborate story in my head. I guess we’d all seen far wilder requests from guests.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Eric asked as he steered us into the marina.
I took his hand as I stepped off the boat. “No, you stay with the tender. I won’t be long.”
“You don’t even have your phone with you—you know the way?”
My French was basic but good enough to ask for directions if I got lost. “I’ll be fine. If I’m not back in an hour, send out a search party.”
At the end of the jetty, a paparazzo with a camera hanging around his neck leaned against the railing. It was a little early in the season for celebrity sightings, but there was always the odd exception.
“Hey, beautiful,” he called over in a British accent.
I smiled and kept walking. Without the breeze from being at sea, the temperature had notched up. I wanted a long, cold drink. And maybe a pool.
“You work on the yachts?” he asked, following me.
I ignored him and headed up the street, the yachts on my right, surrounded by tourists trying to peer inside to a world inhabited by the rich and famous. A hodgepodge of different buildings screened the other side of the road in chalky pinks and yellows, housing restaurants and ice-cream bars sheltering from the heat under awnings.
The photographer followed. “Hey, you shy? Don’t speak English?”
During high season, it wasn’t unusual to be approached by paparazzi asking who was staying on which yacht. Sometimes they even offered a little money in exchange for information, but they were easy to ignore. “I’m just trying to enjoy a few hours off.”
“So you are yacht crew. I knew it.” He punched the air as if it was some huge victory. Maybe this guy was new. “Anyone interesting on board?”
“Nope,” I replied. I was pretty sure a picture of Hayden Wolf wasn’t going to earn this guy any money.