Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise (30 page)
Read Deborah Brown - Madison Westin 06 - Revenge in Paradise Online
Authors: Deborah Brown
Tags: #Mystery: Cozy - Humor - Florida
“Get the hell up,” Fab yelled. “There’s crappy coffee on deck.”
I buried my face in his chest and giggled. I knew I was the only one who drank “crappy” coffee, so someone must have remembered to bring me a can of mix. It says French on the can, how bad can it be?
We heard Didier say, “Fabiana…”
“Can you translate?” I whispered.
“He demanded she get away from the door and stop yelling. Just when I think he’s got some control over her, I find out it’s an illusion. Great, they’re still out there and it’s all silent.”
Fab pounded just as loudly a second time. “Five minutes or I’m using a lock pick,” she yelled.
I twisted the sheet over us just in case and yelled back, “What are you wearing?”
“Bathing suit, now hurry up.”
I ran my fingers down his chest. “I’m going to need a nap later.”
“You certainly are,” he grumbled. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t bother us a second time.”
I frowned. “I didn’t bring a bathing suit. You said overnight bag. I don’t have any clothes,” I wailed.
He covered my mouth with his fingers. “Shh. Didier packed for you.”
I smiled. He’d done that before, and I looked hot. “And you too?”
“Hell no,” he said, and laughed. “I can get my underwear packed without any help.”
He put his hands on either side of my head and pulled my face against his, plastering his lips to mine, moving one hand around to the back of my head to pull me in closer. We attacked each other’s mouths, which went on until, eventually, coming up for air.
He sighed and scooped me into his arms, setting me on the floor. “Times up, you know.”
I laughed and crossed the room to open the armoire to see what Didier had packed.
* * *
Creole and I maneuvered our way to the stern of the boat, holding hands and stopping to peek into each room. There were several guest suites, a library, living room, and dining room along the way. The floor plan was larger than my house. A breakfast bar had been set up under a canopied area not far from the Jacuzzi, where the unobstructed view of the water never got old. The engines fired up after Fab’s screaming episode and we were making our way slowly out to sea.
Didier packed several bathing suits and I chose my favorite, an emerald green tankini, and matching gauzy wrap tied around my waist. The sight of Creole in his black trunks and tight T-shirt made my fingers itch to run up underneath and lightly rake my nails down his chest.
I wrapped my arms around Didier. “Thank you, your surprise is amazing.”
“Just think, for the next few days, the jailbirds will have to find their own way home.” He laughed and ruffled my hair.
Creole and I grabbed coffee and shared a chaise facing out to sea.
What would it be like to live this lifestyle
, I wondered.
Didier stood and motioned to the steward. A few minutes later, an oblong table and chairs had been set up along the railing.
“Do we have a destination?” I asked.
“We can jump over to the Bahamas,” Didier said. “Or we can anchor and spend time aboard playing with all the water toys.”
The guys stared at one another, their competitive sides jumping to the surface.
“Rafts?” Creole snickered at him.
“We’ve got jet skis and water cars. We can drag out the sea pool, hook up the waterslide, and play some basketball.” Didier nodded to Creole. “A little one on one.”
I stuck my finger out at Fab. “You, me, water cars?”
She rolled her eyes. “You’re never going to win.”
Creole laughed. “I vote we stay on board and explore. LaRouche told me about the impressive arcade, pool table, and pinball machines. I bet we don’t run out of things to do.” He licked the column of my neck and bit down.
“You taste like the sea,” he murmured.
I looked at him and yawned. “Don’t forget nap time,” I whispered, “every day.”
Creole’s phone gave a short ring, announcing a message. He pulled back a chair at the railing for me, coming back with two plates. One was filled with breakfast temptations: omelet, potatoes, waffle, and bacon; and the second was filled with fresh sliced fruit.
“If that’s work, you can swim back.” I glared at him. We should all surrender our phones and not get them back until we docked. Mine sat at the bottom of my travel bag, turned off.
“It’s your mother,” he said, and nudged me. “Family barbeque—your house, today. Wants to know why your phone is going to voicemail?”
“You thought about Jazz and told Mac, but not Mother?” I asked.
Wait until Mother finds that out
.
“One of us needs to call her,” he said, and looked directly at Fab.
I almost laughed at the look of horror on her face. I held out my hand. “I’ll call her.”
“We should draw straws. Isn’t that what you Americans do?” Didier chuckled.
Fab crossed her arms. “I choose Madison. She already said she would call.”
Creole whispered in my ear, fingers tugging my hair. “Choose Fab.”
I changed my answer and said, “Fab can do it.”
She smirked, knowing Didier was last to vote, so it wouldn’t be her making the call.
“I can’t vote against you, Cherie.” He kissed her cheek.
“What? No!” She jumped to her feet. “I’m not doing it.” She upended her plate, most of which she’d eaten.
Creole stared at her. “Wait until I tell Madeline you don’t really like her after all. Refused to give her a call to ease her worries.”
The two were in a deadly stare off. What was going on? Why would Creole ruin our good time? Didier didn’t look ready to intervene. I started to move away and Creole held me firmly in place, feeding me another bite of eggs.
“Give me that phone.” Fab blew out an angry breath.
“Hit the speaker button so we know you’re not talking to dead air,” Creole said, and motioned with his finger.
She stared at the phone for the longest time, finally calling.
“Madeline,” she started.
“Hi, honey, I’m so happy you called. I need you to stop and get dessert. Make sure you and Madison get here before the others.”
“We…uh…” Fab stammered. She took a deep breath. “We can’t make it. We’re out of town,” she blurted.
“What?” Mother shrieked. “I need your help, both of you,” she sniffed. “You didn’t say good-bye. I thought we were closer than that.”
Fab squirmed. “Madeline,” she sighed.
“Are you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.” Mother sounded sad. “You’d tell me if there was a problem?”
“Sit still,” Creole whispered. “Madeline’s working her.”
Fab’s face pained; she hated emotional drama. “Didier surprised us with a trip on a friend’s yacht. We’ll be back in a few days.”
“I’m sure you’re having fun.” She perked up. “I won’t keep you on the phone. Could you tell Creole I’ll pay him the five dollars when I see him?”
“We’ll call you as soon as we get back on land.” Fab said good-bye and hung up. “Five dollars,” she murmured, looking at Creole.
An instant later, she threw his phone at him. I covered my face.
“That was far less painful than getting strangled.” He glared back.
Didier and Creole laughed.
“You knew,” she accused Didier.
He opened his arms and she flew into them. “Thank goodness. When she sounded disappointed, I thought I’d be sick. I forgot how good she is.”
I winked at her and motioned her to the deck railing.
I stood and stuck my finger in Creole’s chest. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“Would it be rude if Creole and I were to go take a nap? We can meet you two back here in a couple of hours.” I bit the corner of my lip so I wouldn’t smile. “I’m tired for some reason.”
“We can drag out the water toys tomorrow when we’re well-rested. Didier needs a nap too,” she said with a straight face. “How about we meet back for dinner and spend the rest of the day doing what we want?”
“You’re the best.” I hugged her. “Please do not bang on the door again or I’ll hurt you.”
“I have something I need to show you,” she said as she whisked Didier off.
“Hurry up!” I snapped my fingers at Creole and raced across the cabin and back to our suite, Creole right behind me.
Creole closed and locked the door, picking me up. As my legs wrapped around his waist, he walked me backward to the bed. “How much time do we have?”
“Until dinner.” I smirked and crawled out of his grasp.
“Oh no you don’t.” He tried to grab my foot.
I jumped off the bed and stood in front of him, my hand on his chest. “I’m going to tell you what to do for a change.”
“I never do that.” He grinned.
“Strip,” I growled in perfect imitation.
“Shower.”
“In the middle of the bed.”
“On!” He jerked me on top of him and rolled over, offering no escape.
Deborah Brown is the author of the Paradise series. She lives in South Florida, with her ungrateful animals, where Mother Nature takes out her bad attitude in the form of hurricanes.
Visit her website at
http://deborahbrownbooks.blogspot.com
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Deborah’s books are available on Amazon
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