Chapter Two
On the journey between LAX and The Hotel Mayan, Olivia came to the conclusion the entire city of Los Angeles was a gridlock. The sleek black Mercedes which had come to collect her had crawled along, seeming to take hours to cover each mile.
It didn’t help that she was tired after the long flight, in need of a shower and impatient to meet her fellow crew.
For the last week her thoughts had centered not on sailing, and all the challenges the ocean might bring, but on who she’d be on board with. Boats were cramped places, there was hardly room to swing a cat. If personalities clashed, if hot tempers erupted, things could get fiery real quick.
And she knew she did have a bit of a temper. No worse than most, probably. Being out in the open and not cooped up indoors was good for her self control. A few deep breaths of salty air, and calm was always restored.
She pulled out her cell and sent a text to her parents and then to Sandy letting them know she’d landed safely.
Eventually the driver indicated and turned toward a colorful, contemporary hotel entrance flanked by palm trees.
Olivia glanced at the port to her right, which held a plethora of yachts and a large cruise liner. She reached for her rucksack.
The driver opened the door and she stepped out into the hot evening.
“Everything should be waiting for you, Miss. I hope it goes well.” The driver bobbed his head politely.
“Thank you.” She reached for five dollars and handed it to him. All week Sandy had been telling her she had to remember to tip everyone in America.
A porter retrieved her holdall from the trunk of the car, and indicated for her to head into the reception area.
As she stepped through the large glass door, cool air conditioning rained down. She walked silently, in her soft shoes, to the reception desk which was decorated with deep burgundy tiles set with small golden triangles. “Miss Bailey, to check in.”
“Certainly, Miss Bailey. Have you had a pleasant journey?” A pretty young woman with dark bobbed hair smiled at her.
“Long and tiring. I’m glad to have arrived.”
“I trust you’ll have a comfortable stay. It’s just one night, is that right?” She pushed a key card over the desk.
Olivia took it. “Yes. Heading away tomorrow.” She smiled. After sitting on an aeroplane, albeit first class, for hours, and then dawdling through LA traffic, the lure of the ocean was intense and she was very much looking forward to setting sail.
“Ah, Miss Bailey. You’ve arrived.”
Olivia turned at the sound of a familiar, deep voice with an American accent.
“Mr Riley, hello.” She held out her hand to one of the three men she’d met at her interview.
“Welcome to America.” He shook her hand and grinned. “Let me just say again how pleased we all are at Vidal Inc. that you accepted The Challenge.”
“I’m thrilled to be picked for this opportunity.”
His smile widened, stretching his gray moustache. “You are the last of the crew to arrive.”
“Oh, I didn’t know. I’m so sorry.”
“No fault of yours. Simply how flight times worked out. Your fellow crew are getting to know each other and are eager to meet you. Would you like to see your room first?”
“Er, yes. Please. I’ll freshen up.”
“Perfect.” He handed her a business card. “Call me when you’re all set and I’ll come and collect you.”
“Okay. Thanks.” She took the small golden card that had the now familiar typeset on it that Vidal Inc. used.
Riley nodded at the porter who then stepped forward with Olivia’s bag. “If you’d like to follow me, Miss,” the porter said.
Her room was huge. Much bigger than the one in her parents’ house. It had a bed set up three carpeted steps. The covers had splashes of reds and oranges and a large collection of embroidered cushions were set neatly on top. An en suite held a large shower as well as a Jacuzzi bath.
The seating area had floor to ceiling windows that offered stunning views over the ocean. For a moment she paused and admired the vista. Several small boats drifted on the horizon, sails billowing, and leaving fluffy white trails in their wake.
“Not long now,” she said, a ball of excitement winding up inside of her. She couldn’t wait to meet the crew, equally she couldn’t wait to meet their yacht, Temptress.
Suddenly remembering the task at hand, she headed to the en suite and turned on the shower. She stripped off the clothes she’d put on back in the UK and jumped beneath the heavy spray of water. The complimentary toiletries smelled of geranium and she lathered up her long blonde hair, then soaped her body. Her skin was pale, as was always the case in the spring. But she was sure a few weeks at sea and it would go its usual bronzed shade.
She applied a slick of coconut body moisturizer, then brushed her teeth and pulled on underwear, soft blue jeans, and a plain white t-shirt. She’d deliberated with Sandy about what to wear at this moment and decided understated and casual would be best. There was no point trying to look glamorous. The minute they hit the waves, that would be history.
After blasting her hair with the drier so it was soft and fluffy she applied lip balm and a merest hint of mascara.
She allowed herself a spritz of perfume, a spiced scent, then called Riley from the phone by the bed.
“I’ll be right there,” he said.
Her sneakers were white with a dark blue stripe around them. She fastened the laces as she hung around the door waiting for Riley to knock. Her nerves were skittish. This was it. The moment she’d meet the men she’d be spending the next few weeks, probably months with. She hoped above all else they’d be great seamen. After that she prayed for kindness. She could cope with just about any other personality trait, as long as kindness was in there too.
Knock. Knock.
She straightened, blew out a breath and opened the door.
Riley was beaming. “Ah, good. It’s time for the adventure to begin.”
“Yes. I guess it is.”
“Four of the crew are waiting for you in the penthouse. Harrington will be joining us shortly, when you’re all together.”
“Okay.” So their captain wasn’t there yet.
Olivia followed Riley along the carpeted corridor. They rode the elevator to the top floor. When it opened he stepped directly to the first door he came to.
After swiping a key card, he pushed it open with the flat of his hand. “After you, Miss Bailey.”
“Please, call me Olivia.”
“Certainly.”
She walked past him. If she’d thought her suite was big, this one was huge. But other than that she barely noticed anything, because dotted around the room were four guys—four guys she’d be working with and getting to know, warts and all, out there on the sea.
They all turned to her, curiosity in their expressions.
Of course they were inquisitive, she was the female of the team. Gender alone made her different to them. She hoped they didn’t have any thoughts of her being simpering and weak, or not a first class sailor and engineer, if so, she’d have to put them right.
“Gentlemen, can I please introduce Miss Olivia Bailey, your final crew member.”
A tall, broad guy, with tousled curly blond hair stepped forward, hand outstretched. “G’day, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He grinned, flashing neat white teeth, and his blue eyes sparkled. “Evan Tate, Melbourne.”
“Hi, Evan.” She smiled back. His grin was infectious and, judging by the smile lines around his eyes, came frequently. His big hand was warm as he gave hers a firm shake.
“Where you from?” he asked, releasing her and shoving his hands into his jeans pockets. They sat low on his hips, and the right knee had a frayed rip across it.
“England. Portsmouth.”
“Never been, heard it’s awesome.”
“Yes, it’s nice. By the coast, like Melbourne.”
“You been to Melbourne?”
“No, but perhaps when we get to Australia, I’ll take a trip.”
“You should. It’s cool.”
“And this, Miss Bailey, is Raul Santiago,” Riley said, indicating a guy who was perched on the edge of a low white leather sofa.
At the mention of his name, Raul jumped up. He was a fraction taller than Evan, though not as broad. His black hair was thick and tickled the collar of his red polo. He held out his hand. “Olivia, it is good to meet you.”
“And you, Raul.” She shook and released.
He smiled. “I hope you like to eat.” He banged his palm on his chest. “I cook in the galley, for everyone.”
She chuckled. “Yes, I like to eat. And if you can be inventive with fish after the third week, that’s cool.”
“I can get inventive with anything.” He winked then tipped his head back and laughed. It was a loud, raucous sound that echoed around the room.
“Raul is not only an expert sailor, he’s a top chef in one of Barcelona’s most exclusive restaurants.” Riley gripped Raul’s shoulder. “And we’ve ensured he has a good supply of ingredients to keep everyone’s palate happy.”
“I like the sound of that,” Olivia said. Wow, what a treat, to have a professional chef on board. It would make a change from eating out of ration packs, which she’d done on other occasions when at sea.
“And this is Mason and Lucas McCadam.” Riley gestured to the opposite sofa. One man sat, another stood behind it.
Olivia looked between the two of them. Blinked. Looked again. They were identical. Each was big built, with white blond, super short hair. They also wore the same black t-shirt and black trousers. Each of their right arms showed a dense tattoo that extended just past their elbows.
The one sitting, rose, hand offered forward. “I’m Mason. Glad you could be here.” He smiled.
Olivia took it, noticing he wore a silver ring on his thumb. “Hi, Mason. You’re from the UK then.” She’d heard a Scottish accent.
“Aye, Edinburgh.” He jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. “This is my twin, Lucas.”
She turned her attention to Lucas. He didn’t move from behind the sofa. Instead he simply set his pale gaze on her and nodded, his lips in a tight straight line.
“Hello Lucas.” She smiled, wondering if he’d return one. He didn’t. There was something a little thug-ish about his appearance, more so than his twin who was smiley and animated, perhaps it was because he appeared so stern and as if ready to burst into action. “When did you fly in?” she directed at Lucas.
Mason answered. “Yesterday, so we spent the day exploring. Newport is buzzing.”
“Yes, I’d like to have a look around if I get the chance.”
“I’m not sure you will,” Riley said. “You’re due to head off at eleven o’clock in the morning and we have press set up before your departure.”
Olivia turned to him, her smile dropping. “But what about preparing Temptress, and checking we have everything we’ll need?”
“I can assure you the boat is well prepared. You will want for nothing.”
That didn’t sit well with Olivia. She always liked to spend time getting to know a new boat, tinkering with the engine, going through the equipment, making sure nothing essential had been forgotten.
“Don’t look so worried,” Evan said, dropping into a chair and crossing his left ankle over his right knee. “We were down there today. Temptress is top notch, all set to go.” He nodded slowly. “And the navigation system, whoa, that’ll blow your mind.”
Olivia was silent. She was used to having more control than ‘here’s your boat, off you go’. But at the moment, she didn’t seem to have much choice.
“Temptress is muy bien,” Raul said, kissing his fingertips and sitting. “Perfecto. Everything we need to take on the Pacific and more.”
“Good. I’m glad.” Perhaps she’d get up early—jet lag would be on her side after all—and get down to the harbor for at least a basic run through.
“And now that you’re all here,” Riley said, pulling out his cell. “I’ll call Harrington and get him to come and say hi.” He glanced around the team. “Because I’m sure you’re all dying to meet your captain.”