Rainer
The yacht was lit up so brightly it looked more like a spaceship ready to bolt off into the dark sky. I understood the mystery that drove people to buy mega-yachts. Berger stood at the prow as if he'd conquered the sea himself. I knew full well he had no idea how to start the yacht's powerful engine, much less move it safely from the dock.
His full crew greeted me as I walked across the gangplank. The entire skyline of San Francisco glittered above the dark water of the bay, and even I had to admit it was a dramatic backdrop for a party.
"Just wait until we sail under the Golden Gate Bridge," Berger said. He slapped me hard on the back. "Until then I've got, how many? Four chefs: sushi, fusion, steakhouse, and the best dessert chef in town."
A fleet of servers wove through the glamorous crowd, but I waved away the champagne. I could already tell that I was going to need something stronger. The yacht had every comfort, it was floating luxury, but the thought of being out on the water with no way to escape was already making me twitchy.
"Please tell me it's only a three-hour tour," I said.
Berger laughed and raised his hand to slap me on the back again. I dodged past a fashionable couple, knowing full-well I was going to end up in the background of their endless photographs. Then the cameras turned on me.
I didn't even have to turn around to know whose arm now linked mine. "Hello, Ellison. Nice to see you again."
Ellison laughed and gave me a playful slap. "As if we didn't talk earlier today, darling. You're right, a yacht like this might be a great venue for your groom's dinner."
I pulled her out of the stream of promenading party guests and gripped the railing to stop myself from strangling her. "Why do you insist on doing that?"
"Doing what, Rainer?" Ellison asked, her elegant head held high.
"Acting as if I've already proposed to you. We are not engaged, we are not planning our wedding, and I didn't talk to you earlier about possible venues for whatever the hell a groom's dinner is!"
Ellison aimed a serene smile up at me all during the rant. "Everyone knows it's inevitable. We are such a perfect match. Honestly, Rainer, you should be happy."
Before I could grasp her slender shoulders with both hands and shake some sense into her, a helicopter whipped across the bay and hovered about the yacht.
"That'd be tonight's performer," Berger called over the noise.
"No, you didn't!" Ellison gave my arm an excited squeeze and then forgot about me altogether. "He's a darling, and I haven't seen him since Paris."
Ellison's darling friend turned out to be one of the biggest acts on the world scene. It was surreal seeing him step off the helicopter and join Berger's yacht party. I thought I might be going crazy.
"Let me introduce my fiancé," Ellison said, bringing the big star over to me.
"She's jumped the gun a bit there," I said. "We're not engaged yet."
"Then I still have a chance." He wrapped an arm around Ellison's waist, and half the yacht let out jealous squeals of delight. "Mind if I steal her away?"
"Not at all," I said.
Ellison ignored me completely and jumped right into the excitement of the party. I clung to the railing and wondered if it was too late to grab a dinghy back to shore.
"I know people say that money goes to your head, but you are a whole new case of crazy," Berger said. He joined me at the railing, looking out over his spectacular party like a sultan. "No one understands how you could possibly turn down Ellison Ramsey."
"That doesn't mean it's okay for her to make up our engagement. That's the crazy part," I said.
Berger snorted. "And there's where you are wrong. Any other man, or woman for the matter, would be overjoyed that Ellison had decided on them. Do you even realize what her attention has done for your reputation?"
I didn't want to admit that it was true. Ellison's false rumors about our impending wedding had actually started to change my reputation from hopeless bachelor to decent prospect. I was getting way too many interested glances from the high society ladies now. As a wealthy widow in a bright red dress gave me a glance, I realized that I could easily burn off the changes. All it would take was one indiscretion.
"Seems like even your father is starting to notice," Berger continued the conversation.
"My father can think whatever he damn well wants. As long as it annoys my brother," I said. Now that I had stocked up enough money to appease the Maxwell ambition, my father had become downright friendly.
Berger stood up and cleared his throat. "I really don't get you, Rainer. You made your billions; you could have all this and more. You could marry Ellison and be at the top. What's stopping you?"
The buzzing of a small boat was a convenient distraction. I glanced down to the water and saw that it was Tasha arriving. Alone. Had something happened with her blond landscaper? The hope I felt was ridiculous, and I did the best I could to wipe it off my face before I turned back to Berger.
"Like you said, I've already got a lot. So, I don't see the harm in waiting for something I really want," I said.
Ellison joined us at that moment. "I bet I know what you really want," she said. "If you've been waiting to make a big announcement, the stage is all set."
I glanced over to the stage and saw the world-class performer wink at Ellison. "Not my kind of music," I said.
An actual frown broke through Ellison's self-assured expression. She turned away and caught sight of Tasha boarding the yacht. "You and your one-hit wonders," Ellison said.
"Sure you want to tie the knot with that?" Berger asked.
Ellison fluffed her hair and gave Tasha an evil appraisal. "I'm not worried."
I was desperate to escape, and the shore was getting farther and farther away. The next waiter who walked by was shocked when I stopped him. "Is that fresh thyme on top of the stuffed mushrooms?"
"Yes, sir. The chef grows it himself." The waiter nodded to a nearby man in a white coat.
I moved over to his table and complimented him on the taste. The chef looked at Ellison and hesitated to talk, but I got him into a whole conversation about growing his own herbs.
"The flavors are much richer," the chef said.
Ellison sighed and walked away. Moments later, Berger followed her.
"Thanks," I told the chef.
"You know we're on a boat, right? You can't escape," the chef said.
I assessed the glimmer in his eyes while his face was otherwise straight. "You know, I'm rich too."
"How's that going?"
I laughed and shook the chef's hand. "I'm starting to think I'd trade my fortune for a practical skill. At the end of the day, you've actually created things, and that has to feel good."
The chef graciously served two more guests and came back to join me. "It does feel good. It's never too late to learn. You interested in cooking?"
"Me?" I asked. "No. But recently I started to get into gardening."
The chef barely contained a snort. "You know how many of my clients demand fresh herbs and vegetables but won't even think of putting a few potted plants on a windowsill? No offense, but sometimes I wonder what you people do all day."
"None taken," I said.
It was an honest opinion, and as I looked around the yacht, I started to agree with the chef. Everyone was dressed in designer clothes with jewelry made to impress. Instead of noticing the delicious food, hand-crafted right in front of them, or the beautiful scenery of the San Francisco Bay, the ultra-rich were standing around only noticing those who noticed them.
Across the deck, Ellison gave me a come-hither glance. I held up another stuffed mushroom, and her perfect lips pursed tight. She turned back to a small knot of fawning admirers and ignored me.
"Well, I might be the only one, but I'm really enjoying your efforts. Thank you," I told the chef.
I scanned the room again and felt my heart sink. I was stuck on a yacht in a sea of my peers and couldn't see a single person I wanted to talk to. Except Tasha.
She was encouraging the first mate to tell her more about the unique features of Alcatraz Island. He was more than happy to oblige and leaned close as he pointed out landmarks. I handed my small plate to a passing waiter and set out across the crowded room.
"Hello, Rainer." The woman's voice was cool.
"Patricia, how are you?" I swallowed my irritation and focused on the redheaded woman. We'd had a passionate night after a product launch party, and I could tell she was surprised I knew her name. "How's your sick dog? The last time we were, ah, together, you had to rush home to give it antibiotics, right?"
Patricia blinked a few times. "That's right. Bingo's fine, thanks for asking."
I stood looking down at her as she hadn't moved, but she had nothing else to say. "I hope you enjoy the party," I said, stepping around her.
"It's not going to work, you know," Patricia said over her shoulder. She turned and nodded towards Tasha. "She's too good for you. Besides, she's been warned what you're really like."
"We had one night together. You don't know me," I said. I stalked away from her, my fingers curling into fists.
So, more people than I thought had noticed my interest in Tasha. No wonder I could feel eyes on me as I slowly wove my way through the party towards her. It took a lot of maneuvering, but I finally cornered Tasha near the small bar at the back.
Tasha eyed the narrow hallway next to her but decided to stand her ground. "I'm hearing rumors you might have a special announcement tonight," she said.
"What the hell," I muttered, missing at first the teasing light in Tasha's eyes. "Oh, right. Make fun of me. Like you won't have hundreds of men lining up to propose to you now that you've made billions."
"I've had three proposals so far tonight," Tasha said.
"Let me guess, the first mate? Watch out; you know the captain can marry people," I said.
"Oh, so is that what you have planned for Ellison?" Tasha asked.
I grabbed her arm and pulled her down the narrow hallway. She darted inside the first open door, hoping to dodge around me, but I blocked her way and shut the door behind us.
"I am not marrying Ellison Ramsey tonight, and I do not ever intend to marry her."
Tasha's irritated expression softened. "Okay. I was just teasing you, Rainer."
"Not a lot of people do that," I said.
She inched closer. "Why am I so different?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "If I could answer that I might feel sane again."
"You need your space," Tasha said, reaching around me for the door handle.
"I need you," I said. The scent of her hair knocked me back against the cabin door.
Tasha was only inches away, and she didn't pull back or roll her eyes. Instead, she studied my face, staring deep into my eyes before her gaze dropped to my lips.
"All I know is you’re different, Tasha. And that doesn't have to mean anything. I just. . . I just like being near you." I held my breath and wished I hadn't said any of that.
Then she kissed me.
My breath never came back, and, for a moment, I thought maybe I'd passed out and it was all just a crazy dream. Then Tasha's sweet lips parted and the kiss deepened. I swung her around and pressed her against the cabin door, pouring more gasoline on our already blazing desire.
I pulled back. "Are you teasing me?" I croaked.
Tasha giggled and then pushed against the door, pressing every inch of her body against mine. "Maybe a little."
I brought one shaky hand up to her cheek and held our gaze until her teasing smile faded away. The heat was still there in her eyes, so I kissed her again.
I wasn't surprised when Tasha pushed against my chest and slipped away from the door. Then she went to the cabin's queen-sized bed and looked back at me. I couldn't move, maybe I was drowning. Every reasonable voice in my head was screaming to take it slow. Tasha was different, and I couldn't just go through my regular motions. There was more between us than I had ever felt before, and it was starting to feel like a powder-keg in my chest.
"I'm not teasing anymore," Tasha said.
I was across the room in two long strides, and I caught her waist tight in my arms. "No. I'm not going to screw this up. And I'm not going to let you do this," I said, letting go.
"Do what?" Tasha asked.
"Trick me into acting like any other playboy on a yacht. I want to take things slow," I said.
Tasha scowled. "First off, you keep telling me that I'm different, but you still assume that I have the same opinion of you as everyone else."
"Because you keep reminding me!" I couldn't keep my voice down, then cringed. "I'm sick of my reputation. I'm trying to change; it's time for me to change, grow up, whatever you want to call it."
"So, you've got a lot to prove," Tasha said. "I know what that's like."
"Then how do you do it?" I paced around the spacious cabin, passed the glowing lights of the Bay Bridge outside the windows.
"I figure out what I want, and then I go after it," Tasha said.
I turned just as she wrapped both arms around my neck. Her kiss wobbled my knees and I gasped for breath between her lips. "And what do you want?" I asked.
"You."
I shook my head though my hands wouldn't let go of Tasha. "No. No way. Someone will hear. We're on a yacht full of people just dying to find a scandal to talk about."
The chandelier above us rattled. A searing note reached us even in the private cabin and I wanted to shake a fist at my luck. Up on the main deck, the A-list performer grabbed the mic and shouted out a long list of compliments to his generous hosts. Then the drummer kicked off a heavy rhythm and the bass player was close behind. The door jam pulsed with the music, and I could barely hear myself think.
Tasha laughed. "What was that you were saying about someone hearing us?"
I struggled to take a deep breath as she walked over to the cabin door and casually locked it. Tasha was right. There was no way anyone would hear us over the lively performance.
"Someone's going to notice we're gone," I said.
"All eyes are on stage. Guaranteed. That's what Berger paid for," Tasha pointed out.
I held up both hands as she approached me again. "Why? Why do you want me?"
Tasha's eyes narrowed and her head tipped as she assessed our conversation like a business negotiation. With a slight nod, she decided it was best to tell me her reasons because she believed they might be common ground. A good starting place: "I want to have sex with you again because I think it'll help us both get this out of our systems."
I wanted to bash my head against the porthole window. She had voiced the very same argument I had used to justify sleeping with her in the first place. "Tasha, you can't be serious," I said.
Her chin tipped up. "Why not? Men get to have sex like that all the time."
I held up my hands again. "I'm not being sexist. I just want you to think about it."
Tasha shook her head. "I don't want to think. That's the whole point. If I just let myself feel this, then maybe it will subside."
My head spun over the fact that she was feeling something between us too. "It won't work," I said. "I've already tried it."
That stopped her. "You slept with me to get me out of your system?" she asked.
I nodded. "It made things worse. It made me want you even more."
A darker shade of expression veiled Tasha's eyes. She was worried, but her body seemed to be reacting on its own. She took a step forward, hesitated, and then flew back into my arms. Her kiss burned away any resistance that either of us felt. I tried to hold on, reminding myself where we were and what the crowd was like just down the hall. But, it didn't matter. The band raced into another pulsing song, and I lost control.
Tasha and I fell together onto the queen-sized bed. Her dress slipped off to reveal a sheer slip that ignited my blood. As her hands peeled off my suit coat and plucked loose my shirt, I tossed her dress over the back of a chair and let my lips skim the silk of her slip, and then her skin.
"This is what you want?" I asked.
Tasha nodded, tugging me up to kiss her again. I told myself to be careful of her hair, to be gentle, but her hips rose to meet me and all thought erased. Fireworks exploded from the back deck of the yacht and glittered down past our window.
#
only reason I knew years hadn't passed since I raised my head was the fact that the band was still thumping away up on the main deck. I laid on my back staring at the long stretch of Golden Gate Bridge drifting past the porthole window.
Tasha sat up and reached for her dress.
"Did it work?" I asked.
"Funny," she said, "I never took you for insecure."
I sat up. "I meant did you get me out of your system?"
She glanced over her shoulder and then tugged her dress back into place. "I better get back to the party."
I raced to get dressed before she got to the cabin door. "What's the plan? Want me to go first and then text you the 'all clear?'"
Tasha straightened her shoulders and looked me dead in the eye. "I'm not going to skulk out of here like I did something wrong. Women are just as capable of having flings as men."
I pressed a hand to the door. "So, I'm a fling now?"
"You're in my way, that's what you are right now." She tugged open the cabin door but took a second to peek into the hallway before she left.
I could have stayed in the cabin all night trying to sort out what had just happened, but I was worried about Tasha. Was she upset? Had her little experiment worked and she was completely over me? I counted to sixty at a furious pace and then slipped out the cabin door and back down the narrow hallway.
Tasha turned away from the bar, where she had wisely stopped to make it look like she'd been there all along, and then she plunged into the crowd. Most people were aimed at the main deck where the music was still blasting. I grabbed a drink and followed the flow. Tasha's head bobbed across the room from me and I did my best to look casual while I tracked her.
I had to change course when Patricia caught my eye. She frowned at me, and it took all my restraint to smile back at her. Sure, my reputation was my fault, but the bitterness I felt from her wasn't helping. I hadn't made her do anything she didn't want to do. And it wasn't like she'd ever called me again. I wondered if Tasha was going to be the same. I made my way out onto the deck where I could still see Tasha through the windows.
It was quieter on the back deck, and I could hear normal, non-scandalous conversations going on all around me. I took a deep breath and realized I felt great. Underneath all the complications, I was happy, and I hoped that Tasha felt it too.
Stan caught me as I released a satisfied sigh. "You seem relaxed. Glad the GroGreen project is finally done?" Stan asked.
"No," I said. "It was nice feeling like I was actually contributing. You know, instead of just being this playboy cartoon Hyperion trots out to appease the media."
"Oh, so it's all an act now, is it?" Stan asked. He planted his feet on the deck and looked me square in the eye. "You honestly think anyone is going to believe you've changed?"
I ground my teeth. Stan had a soft spot for Tasha. Beyond the rumors of a May-December romance, everyone at the office knew that Stan was grooming Tasha as his protege. Still, the way he looked at me made me think he knew more about Tasha's life than what happened in the office.
"Maybe it's people's perception of me that's changing," I said.
Stan chuckled, but there was no smile in his stern expression. "Well, either way, the GroGreen project is finished, and Tasha is moving on. Time for you to attach yourself to someone else."
"The media campaign might be over, but the application is still out there. The community garden idea is still out there, and I hear it's expanding," I said.
"Yes. I heard a private investor created a fund to help maintain community gardens all across the East Bay." Stan looked at me hard and then softened slightly. "I know Tasha would never be so frivolous, but she'll be happy to know someone did it."
I glanced out across the bay, irritated that Stan had seen through me so easily. "Someone who wants to remain anonymous."
"Good," Stan said. "Anonymous doesn't get in the way. Anonymous leaves Tasha alone because she deserves a chance to pursue her career without useless complications."
He flagged down a waiter, ordered two strong whiskeys, and then left me to wait at the railing until the yacht headed back to shore.