CHAPTER 17
Philippe stops the Mini-Moke right on the beach that runs along a large bay. Out in the gentle turquoise waves is a large, modern sailboat painted a deep blue with white trim. I was expecting a much smaller, less outrageous boat. It’s eye-catching though, I’ll admit Chad has great taste.
Chad is someone who really knows how to live, enjoy each moment and make it memorable. I need to take lessons from him. I never take vacations, and I have my brownstone and a few expensive cars but that’s it. What would I do with all of this shit if I had it? I probably wouldn’t have time to use it even if I bought it tomorrow.
“Here we are,” Philippe says.
Sydney’s eyes widen and her mouth drops open. “It’s beautiful. Whose boat is it?”
“It’s Chad’s,” I tell her. “He has a crew on call, so I had them prep the boat and they’ll sail it for us since I know nothing about sailing and this boat is too big for one person anyway.”
Sydney seems uncomfortable all of a sudden, using her hands to pat down her dress. Fucking Chad and his fucking ostentatious boat!
“You have a great friend to let us use all of his expensive toys. I hope I get to thank him in person someday,” she murmurs.
Oh. She’s uncomfortable because it feels like she’s taking advantage of his generosity. As much as I’d love for Chad to meet her, that can’t happen until she knows about me.
“Yes, hopefully,” I agree. “Let’s get aboard, ready Sydney?”
We trudge across the sand to a small inflatable with an outboard motor and a teenager at the helm. First test, don’t screw this up for me, kid.
The pilot barely glances our way as I help Sydney get seated on the side of the dingy. I toss our stuff in and hop up on the other side. I scan the beach and pull my hat down low in the hopes that it will help when we meet the crew and face the caretaker. “Philippe, around 4pm?”
The good-natured man smiles and pretends to tip his hat. “I’ll be here, Mr. Forrester. Miss Allen, enjoy your day.”
Philippe pushes the inflatable out into the shallow surf and the kid starts the engine. He doesn’t say a word, or make eye contact with either of us. I guess the dressing down I gave Philippe did the trick.
Nothing is better than when Sydney lets her guard down, so I spend the short trip watching her relaxed appearance. Normally so stressed out and reserved, her excited blue eyes are taking in everything around us and her beautiful mouth is pulled up into a huge grin. She’s fucking stunning, her long auburn ponytail whipping back in the wind, the ocean spray shining on her face. I want to capture this moment and burn it on my brain.
The dingy pulls up to the sailboat, which looks even bigger from here than it did on shore. Jesus, Chad. Two men in white are waiting to greet us as our pilot tosses them a rope.
“Welcome to the Magic Hour,” the older man says as he extends a hand to Sydney.
“Thank you. I’m Drew, this is Sydney.”
He shakes our hands and introduces himself and the younger man beside him. “I’m Frederick, your Captain, and this is Robert, one of the crew. I’ll give you a quick tour and we’ll head out. Winds are perfect today; the water isn’t too choppy. It’s going to be a great sail.”
The captain shows us around the sailboat, and I’ll admit it’s impressive. “This is a 200ft Perini Navi sloop. She has five cabins and can sleep twelve. With her sails up she can reach 15.5 knots, which is about 20 miles per hour if you were wondering. She’s two years old and has every modern amenity you could ask for.”
Frederick walks us through the main cabin and tells us about the integrated satellite and sound system that is controlled by touch screens installed in each room. We go down two separate levels to see the bedrooms and the movie-screening room. Sydney tenses up when we see the built in theater that Chad has onboard and I have to clench my fists so I won’t punch the wall.
It frustrates me to no end that I can’t ask what the fuck happened to her.
Frederick finishes the tour up top on the deck where I bring Sydney to sit with me on the giant curved couch.
“So, sail around the island? Maybe a stop at a nearby reef for some swimming and snorkeling? What do you think, Sydney?”
The crew starts prepping to leave as we wait for her to approve of the plan.
She grins and reaches up, turning my cap backwards. “Sounds great,” she says as she leans in to kiss me. “Let’s go.”
I smile broadly, how can I not when she looks at me like that? “You heard the lady, let’s do it!” I tell the captain, who has been waiting patiently while we decided where to go.
Once he’s gone I pull her to me and bury my nose in her neck, inhaling her addictive scent. The sound she makes when I touch her sends a jolt of desire straight through me.
Not now Forrester. I would never debase her by fucking her on this boat with a half-dozen crewmembers around. No way. She’s too good to be treated like a whore, no matter how badly my cock is aching by the time today is over.
Sydney leans back against my chest as the sails go up and we begin to move. This boat is smooth, as it should be for the price. If I had to guess I’d say that Chad shelled out 100 million on this boat, maybe more. Not that he can’t afford it, shit, not that I couldn’t afford it. But a boat? Not where I’d spend my money but this sure is nice.
We manage to have a great time despite having to dance around such massive subjects as Sydney’s past, my job, our future and pretty much anything else serious in nature. Even still, she’s playful, sweet, and funny.
A young woman dressed in the same white polo shirt and shorts as the other crew members approaches us and asks if we’d like anything to eat or drink. Sydney asks for a water as do I. When the girl returns, she questions us on our lunch preferences.
“Syd? Anything you’d like for lunch?” I ask her.
The woman won’t look either of us in the eye. Shit, maybe I went a little overboard with the directives when I spoke to Philippe.
She just shrugs. “I don’t know, something light? So we can swim later.”
“Okay, something light. Tropical or something,” I tell the girl. She just nods and scurries off. Christ, she probably thinks I’m the world’s biggest asshole. One of those dicks who doesn’t want the lowly staff making eye contact or speaking to them.
The captain anchors the boat in a small cove near a tiny, rock covered island just off the coast of St. Bart’s. Lunch is ready, so we make our way over to the shaded outdoor dining table and enjoy our meal of grilled snapper with coconut rice and mango salsa.
“This is delicious,” Sydney says as she takes a bite.
Fascinated, I watch her face contort sensually at the pleasure she gets from the food. How am I supposed to eat if she’s going to do that?
“Excuse me,” Sydney says to the girl serving us. “Can I have a coconut rum and pineapple juice?”
The girl nods and waits for me to say something. Shit, I did go too far with my orders to the crew.
“I’ll have one too,” I say stupidly, too embarrassed by my earlier instructions that have made this young woman afraid to even look at us to think about what I just ordered to drink.
She comes back moments later and puts a fruity-ass looking concoction in front of me. It even has a fucking miniature umbrella in it.
“What is this?” I ask Sydney as I cringe away from the glass.
She can’t answer me. She’s too busy laughing hysterically, tears streaming down her face. Her joy is a sight to see, but I have no clue what’s so fucking funny.
“What?”
“I can’t believe you are drinking a panty ripper,” she says between uneven breaths.
A panty ripper? Is that what this thing is called? Great.
I stare at her, an annoyed look on my face. “It’s just pineapple juice and coconut rum, Syd. Besides, you’re drinking one.” I try to drink from the glass, but the little umbrella and the wedge of pineapple on the glass get in my way and smash against my nose.
That starts Sydney uncontrollably laughing all over again. I try to glare at her, but her attempts at stifling her laughter make me smile. I’ll never admit it to her, but the fucking panty ripper was really good.
We finish eating and Syd asks if we can sunbathe for a while before swimming. Her, in a bikini, two feet from my face? Hell yes.
I pull a huge white bottle from my bag and turn to Sydney. “Can you sunscreen my back?” Chad and the other producers will have a fit if I show up for filming all sunburned. I’m not even supposed to get a tan, so I’m using SPF 8000 or something ridiculous like that.
There’s a pause before Sydney answers me. “Sure.” I hand her the bottle and quickly realize that maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. Her soft hands are roaming all over my body, rubbing across every inch of muscle and skin. I’m going to sport a boner in front of the whole crew if she doesn’t finish soon.
From next to me, I hear Sydney throw down the bottle of lotion and flop onto her chair dramatically and I realize that she’s just as turned on as I am. I grin and lean over her. “Did you enjoy molesting me Miss Allen?”
“No, not at all,” she says unconvincingly, her face buried in a towel.
I laugh and pull out my iPad, studying the scenes that I need to know by next weekend.
We read for a while, and relax in the sun. I spend way too much time staring at Sydney as she rests. Then we snorkel around the boat, watching the schools of fish and the massive green turtles that drift along the bottom of the sea.
Once we’re back on the boat and in dry clothes, I see Sydney pulling out the sunscreen again.
“Hey, I think I’ve had enough sun for today. My face and shoulders are getting fried,” I tell her. I see her glance at my face and scrunch up her nose. She knows I’m not burned yet. I’m not even tan, but I can’t take a chance with filming starting in four days.
“Okay, let’s go inside,” she says agreeably, not questioning my contradictory statement.
We head into the main cabin for the sail back to St. Bart’s. Sydney stretches out on top of me on the massive sectional couch and falls asleep almost instantly. The warmth of her body, the smell of her skin, the rocking of the sailboat… I fall asleep right after she does, thinking about how perfect today was and never having been as content as I am now.