Toy Boy (6 page)

I wouldn’t even be here now.

I heard him settle on one of the benches under the Bimini and wondered if he’d removed it so he could enjoy the stars or if he’d just said that to ease my conscience about him sleeping up there.

I sighed.

Whatever.

I decided to explore further. The floor was slightly unstable as I moved around, investigating what was behind the other thin wooden doors—at least, I thought it was the floor and not the wine. Maybe it was a combination of both.

There were two small climb-in cabins at the back of the boat, the ceilings so low it would be hard to sit up in them. A shudder went over me—far too claustrophobic for my liking.

There was a cupboard next to the steps that led to the deck that held a broom, mop and pegs.

At the opposite end, the bow, was the main cabin. It couldn’t be described as luxurious because all it contained was a bed. There was no standing room. One big mattress filled the space, and it was pointed to mimic the shape of the front of the boat. There were little storage cupboards and a shelf around the edge. Unlike the other cabins, this one had a high ceiling and a skylight—currently open.

I stared into the small compartment as I undid the buttons on my blouse. Was this really where we’d been going to spend our first night together? There wasn’t much space, and Sullivan was so big it was hard to imagine him getting frisky in there. He’d bang his head and bump his feet on the end. Heck, could he even fit in there with his legs straight?

I finished undressing and laid my clothes on the couch in the main seating area. I’d just sleep in the pretty, white lace knickers and bra set I had on. I’d bought an expensive black negligee as my nightwear for the holiday, but that could stay packed.

After grabbing a bottle of water, I fished around in my bag for my makeup remover.

As I slid a damp cotton pad over my face, my gaze landed on Sullivan’s wallet and keys. It was the key ring that caught my attention. I walked over and picked it up. It was a black disc with a blue letter ‘c’ on it. The top half of the letter was shaped like a shark leaping from water. I knew instantly that it was a Canucks keychain. Sullivan was a mad fan of the hockey team just over the border from where he lived.

I smiled and held the smooth disc in my hand. His keys were heavy. I studied them, wondering which was to his house. A house that had five bedrooms and three bathrooms and a garage that fit four cars. He’d said he only had one car, and I’d laughed and asked him why he needed such a big garage. He’d replied he didn’t, it was just the biggest house on the street, so he’d bought it.

His car key slid between my index and middle finger. It was a BMW, same as mine, by the looks of it.

I quietly placed his keys back down, and they crumpled into a pile.

After dropping my cotton pad into the galley bin, I picked up his wallet. I knew I shouldn’t look. But it felt strange, this knowing him but not. Something compelled me to try to connect the dots in my brain. Convince myself this was the man I’d fallen for with all the grace of a brick landing in a puddle. I needed to affirm that he wasn’t a stranger even though he looked it.

The wallet was made of soft brown leather, a little worn around the edges and without label or design. It was a modest wallet, well used and lacking any kind of wealth statement.

I flipped it open.

A picture of myself, wearing a sun hat and holding secateurs and a red rose, greeted me.

It was the shot I’d sent him. Me in my garden. He’d had it made to fit behind the small, clear screen in his wallet.

I placed it down, still wide open, and pressed my hands together, prayer-like, against my mouth and nose.

He carried me everywhere.

Whenever he paid for something, there I was, smiling up at him.

Wherever he was, he could see me.

I thought of the shadowed picture I had of him in a frame at home. Now that I’d met him, I could tell it was him—the angle of his nose, his heavy brows, his top lip. But this one, of me…

Well, it wasn’t so bad. I looked nice, pretty, certainly casual.

I picked the wallet up again.

A tug in my chest felt like it might turn into a sob. He might be young, but it seemed he did really care for me. He just had a crush, though. It was infatuation, nothing more. How could a man like him really be interested in a forty-something woman? He was kidding himself.

Wasn’t he?

Opposite my photograph was a white business card.
His
business card. In black letters it read,
Sullivan T. Cole, Managing Director, IT Practical Solutions, Ltd.

IT Practical Solutions Limited.

He’d told me all about his company. His father had built the business up in the nineties, then Sullivan had taken hold of the reins to allow his dad to take early retirement six years ago. I recalled the conversation. Then, I’d presumed he’d had other work experience before taking on such a major role, but it seemed there wouldn’t have been much time for that. He couldn’t have been much more than a graduate when he’d taken over the family business.

I had to admire him. Being a business management lecturer, I knew there was nothing easy about stepping into someone else’s shoes and taking control. There was a lot to juggle in a flourishing company, especially with the present global economic situation. Also, people were inclined to hanker after the old management and resist change, even if it was for the best.

No wonder he liked to get out and live life to the max when he had a break—take to the open seas or hit the slopes in the Rockies. He’d often told me his day had been stressful, or he was having trouble with a client or an employee. It seemed he juggled lots of roles to hold the whole thing together, and it was hard going.

The card was also covered in thin, clear plastic, and I smoothed my finger over his name and position. It was an impressive title for someone his age. Managing Director of a limited company. There was clearly more to Sullivan than just his pretty face.

But I knew that.

I knew him. I knew lots of stuff about him. Personal stuff, things he hoped for, worried about, and how he hated coffee with milk or cream and couldn’t resist a good horror movie.

I flipped the wallet shut and, after brushing my teeth, headed to my small cabin. Once inside, I was glad of the cool breeze that slipped in through the opening of the star-filled skylight and caressed my exposed skin.

Yes. I knew Sullivan Cole, and it was just a case of matching his face to all of that information.

* * * *

My dreams were filled with blue skies, turtles and fluffy, white clouds that cradled around me, rocking me, soothing me, tilting me this way and that in a constant languid motion.

I saw Greek gods, islands rising from an aqua sea, and heard the sound of waves slicing around dolphins as they rose and fell from the water as if flying.

The images and sounds of my dreams faded, and reality broke into my consciousness. For a moment, I wondered where I was, then my foot touched the cool surface of the cabin wall, and I remembered that I was on Dolly Bird and Sullivan was sleeping up on deck.

I turned to my back and looked up at the skylight. The stars had gone, and in their place was a clear sky fractured by a length of white mast holding a taut sail.

I’d have to get up and grab a taxi to the airport.

The thought made me sad all over again. It could have been so perfect.

My body tilted slightly to the right, then upward and back down.

The water in the harbor hadn’t been this rough the night before, and judging by the cloudless sky, it certainly didn’t seem like a storm was over us.

I sat up and braced my hands behind myself, stared at my ruby-red painted toenails.

Again I was jostled, not lots, but certainly more than I’d been the night before.

I swung my legs around, exited the cabin, then stood on the rocking floor of the small seating area. I flicked open one of the drawn curtains.

“What the…?”

All I could see was water. No land, no houses, and certainly no Fiscardo. Just an endless expanse of blue occasionally topped with a burst of white froth.

I spun around and looked out of the opposite window. It was the same.

Nothing but water.

I’m out at sea.

A wave butted the boat, and I lurched toward the galley and grabbed the counter for support. What the hell was going on?

I was confused, not to mention dry from the wine the night before. I went into the bathroom, brushed my teeth and splashed water on my face. After a quick gulp of bottled water, I headed up the small steps and pushed open the door to the outside world.

The glare of the sun hit me like a spotlight being turned onto my face, but I ignored it and climbed onto the windy deck.

“What on earth,” I said, holding on to the table and staring at the front of the boat, “is going on?”

Two white sails ballooned above me. Enormous and dramatic, they clung to the mast, ropes straining and groaning, reaching for the sky.

“Good morning.”

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I shouted, spinning and spotting Sullivan standing behind the large chrome wheel.

He wore nothing but his swim shorts and shades. The breeze had flattened his hair backward, and his shoulders and upper arms were tense as he held the wheel.

“Taking you for a spin,” he called over the breeze, grinning so wide his cheeks balled. “Like it?”

“No…no…and that is not what’s happening. Take me back to Fiscardo right now.” How dare he? Anger coiled in my stomach. It felt like my veins were suddenly too narrow for my blood.

“Can’t.” He shrugged.

“Of course you can. Turn around.” I put my hand up to shield my eyes and looked over his shoulder. In the far distance, I could make out land, rising giant-like from the sea. “Back there, take me back there.” I pointed, as a pounding beat set up in my temples.

“Can’t, the wind is blowing us this way.” He signaled to the sails. “We’re at the mercy of the gods.”

I held on to the rail that supported the Bimini and hoisted myself upward onto the main body of the boat for a better look at my location. The wind caught my hair and cooled my cheeks. I peered into the distance. “There must be a way, and I demand that you—”

He reached for my wrist, grabbed me, and pulled me down.

“Hey, watch it,” I said, gripping a metal railing that ran around the side of the boat. I was struggling to keep my footing and bumped against the table.

“No, you watch it.” He released me and gestured above me. “The boom nearly got you. Gotta keep an eye out for it. Wily sucker once the speed picks up.” He stepped away and grabbed the wheel again.

“Why did it do that? It nearly killed me.” I looked up at the scarily heavy bar that had ropes slipping upward. It had nearly chopped my head off. Damn thing.

“Probably won’t kill you,” Sullivan said, tightening something on his right. “But it will give you a thumper of a headache. Best you stay on this part of the deck for now.”

Huh, I had a headache already. Temper did that to me. “Not very health and safety conscious around here, is it?” I stepped behind him, as far away as possible from the lurching pole, and held on to the stern rail.

“Baby,” he said, still gripping the wheel but looking at me over his shoulder. “This is the big bad ocean. Danger lurks everywhere. Not even a guy with a hard hat and a clipboard can sort this out.”

I frowned at him. “Seriously, take me back. I don’t want to be out here.”

“I told you, I can’t. Besides, I want you to see some of the islands before you jump on a plane and leave me.”

“What?” I put one hand on my hip but kept hold of the rail with the other—the boat was skimming over the water, bouncing rhythmically. I couldn’t believe what he’d just said. He’d taken me against my will. He knew I’d wanted to get back to the airport today. Did he really want to see me lose it with him? “So you’ve just gone and bloody kidnapped me?”

He turned to me again and shoved his glasses to the top of his head in that cute way I’d noticed he did. He let his gaze settle on my face, then bit on his bottom lip, just a little—so I could see his top teeth—and let his attention slide over my body.

I glanced downward. Damn. I was standing in just my new, white underwear. It was pretty damn sexy with the lace detail and the balcony cups, because when I’d bought it, I’d wanted to look hot for him.

“Jesus, Kay. I’d say it was more like womannapped than kidnapped, wouldn’t you?” He smiled and kept his gaze firmly on my chest.

I pressed a hand over my cleavage. My breasts were wobbling because of the undulations of the boat. “I mean it,” I said. “Take me back now.” I tried to put on my best school ma’am, lecturer’s voice.

He frowned and dropped his shades again. With one quick leap, he was then on the top deck, reaching for a rope and coiling it around a huge metal hook.

The sail began to sag and deflate. The boat slowed but didn’t stop rebounding against the surface of the water.

I watched him work, relieved that he’d listened to me. I needed to get to the airport, not bob around on the Ionian Sea wearing just my underwear with some horny young guy.

Although, damn, he did look good working like that. His muscles were defined and taut, and his skin glowed golden, the sunlight reflecting off his perfect flesh. His swim shorts hung almost dangerously low, and his big hands worked those ropes with skill and precision. He had small, hard bits of skin on his palms. I’d noticed that yesterday when he’d held my hand, and I wondered what they would feel like against my breasts.

‘I’d touch you all over, explore every inch with my fingertips, then gather you up, your breasts, your ass, the backs of your thighs, and hold you tight, make you mine. You’d still be able to feel me touching you, even when I wasn’t anymore.’

I tutted to myself. It was pointless recalling what he’d said he was going to do to me, because he wasn’t, not now.

Even if I was curious about his big, rope-worn hands and what they’d feel like on my body, it wasn’t going to happen.