Distracted Page 4

  “I’ll remember this.”

  Erin stuck out her tongue, scooted through the sliding doors, down the hallway and into her room. She tossed her ruined dress on the floor and turned on the shower. Her sunburn from the day before had begun to fade. Luckily it wasn’t bad. She wouldn’t forget to use sunscreen again. She washed her hair and poured a generous helping of shower gel on her shower puff. As she scrubbed her body she ran her hands sensuously down her breasts and her belly. Hugging herself, she found herself thinking of Spence’s eyes, and his smile.

  “Don’t do this,” she said aloud. “This is not a vacation. He is your client. No hanky panky allowed.”

  She opted for shorts and a white T-shirt. She didn’t bother drying her hair and instead of makeup applied a moisturizer. She surveyed herself in the mirror. No more sexy, she avowed. From now on, it’s plain old Erin.

  She went down the hall in search of food and found a pot of coffee brewing on the kitchen counter. She pulled open drawers and cabinet doors until she found a cup and a spoon. Thank goodness, she thought, as she found a pint of half-and-half in the refrigerator. Now where does he keep the sugar? She found it behind a sliding panel. He was right; he didn’t have many “vittles” in his pantry.

  She took the steaming mug to the living room and curled up on the couch. She enjoyed this moment of the morning; quiet, relaxing. Then she heard the distinct ring of her cell phone. She spotted her evening bag by the front door. She put her coffee on the side table and went to answer the call.

  “Erin? Where are you? Have you met with Spence?”

  “Patricia? Hi. Yes, I have.”

  “Good. Any problems?”

  “No, of course not. Everything’s fine.” Erin sat back on the couch, tossed her purse onto the table next to her coffee.

  “What’s your evaluation so far?”

  “Well, he’s a bit distracted but I think he’s pleasant. I’m confident we’ll be on schedule soon.”

  “I’m counting on you, Erin. You’re my best, but I don’t want you to underestimate this assignment.”

  “No worries, Patricia. I can handle him. He’s nothing more than a big kid.”

  “Right. Okay then. Keep me informed.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  Erin hung up her cell and, locking the keypad, slid it into her shorts pocket.

  Spence vaulted over the back of the couch, landing next to her. “So, I’m a ‘big kid,’ eh?”

  “Yes. You are.”

  “And that doesn’t worry you?”

  “No. Do you always eavesdrop on other people’s phone calls?”

  “Sometimes.” He shrugged.

  “Why don’t you tell me your strategy?”

  “I never kiss and tell.” Spence stretched out on the couch, putting his head in Erin’s lap. She promptly shoved him and he rolled onto the carpeted floor.

  “I mean your book. How far along are you?”

  Spence didn’t answer. He crossed his arms behind his head and stared at Erin’s legs.

  “You are incredibly hard-headed; you know that?” She turned sideways and shoved her feet between the couch cushions. “I’m not here to goof around with you, as pleasant as that may be. I’m a professional editor and we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

  Her stomach growled loudly. “After I eat,” she added.

  * * *

  After foraging in the kitchen, Erin settled on a large bowl of cereal followed by more coffee. She plugged in her laptop and sat at the end of the counter so she could look through the dining room windows. It was another sunny day on the island and the shimmering sound hypnotized her. Fingers poised over the keyboard, instead of logging into her Internet email account, she watched a father and son race along the beach. The little boy, probably three or four years old, dragged a kite behind him. A border collie zipped around them, racing circle eights. She heard the little boy squeal in pleasure when the dog grabbed the kite in its teeth and ran behind the dunes.

  The father swung his son into the air then placed him on his shoulders. The squeals and giggles ebbed as they followed the dog into the dunes.

  “Cute kid, huh?” Spence stood behind the counter and stuffed part of a bagel into his mouth. “They’re my neighbors.”

  “Seems like a sweet family,” Erin said.

  “Nah, it’s a sad story; the wife died last year. Hit and run during the summer season. She was out jogging and some jerk killed her. Police never caught the man. Or woman. Who knows?”

  “How horrible,” Erin said, watching for the father and son but the beach was empty. “I can imagine that in D.C. Everybody drives like a jerk there. But here? This is such a small place and it seems so quaint.”

  “Not in the summer. The place gets crazy with tourists and those of us who aren’t in the service industry usually clear out.”

  “You don’t live here year ‘round? Where do you go?”

  “I’ve got a cabin in Nevada, near Tahoe. Or I head offshore. Do a little cruising; go to the islands.”

  Erin thought of the magazine in Patricia’s office. Spence and a beautiful woman had been photographed in a tropical setting.

  “Must be a hard life,” she sympathized, her pinched lips contradicting her words. “Well, enough small talk. Let’s get to work.”

  She pushed a thumb drive across the counter. “I’ll need your notes and samples of your artwork. Why don’t you save your files on this and we’ll get started.”

  Spence picked up the thumb drive. “Yeah, well, that’s going to be a problem.”

  Erin looked up from her email login page. “Why?”

  “I don’t have any notes.” Spence flipped the thumb drive towards Erin, and she caught it reflexively. She gripped her bottom lip between her teeth and narrowed her eyes.

  “Don’t smolder at me. I’m an artist. I don’t do files and notes. I paint.”

  “Just how do you expect to write a book without notes?”

  “Isn’t that why you’re here? I make the pictures. You make the notes.”

  Erin stared stonily out the window, no longer entranced by the beautiful day. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. “Okay, we know where we stand now. Square One.”

  She opened her eyes and turned towards Spence. “It’s okay,” she repeated, more for her own benefit than his. “Just give me samples of your artwork -- everything you have -- and I’ll start an outline.” She held out the thumb drive again.

  Spence took it and dropped it in his shirt pocket, then changed the topic. “Have you ever been to the Keys? I’m thinking about sailing south tomorrow.”

  Erin found it hard to catch her breath. “I just got here. You can’t leave.”

  “Well, you’ll just have to come with me.”

  “That’s ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere. We’ve got to work on your book.”

  “We can do that on the boat. You sail?”

  “Little boats. Dinghies on the lake.”

  He smiled, pushed back from the counter and stood up. “It’s a little different cruising, but you’ll get the hang quickly. Guess I better order provisions. Pack light -- shorts, your bathing suit. Actually, leave your clothes here. Just bring your bikini.”

  Erin frowned. “Spence, I’m not going anywhere. We have to get started on your book.”

  “Plenty of time on the way. Come on; let’s get your bag packed.”

  He headed down the hall and into her room. Erin followed him after hearing him pull open drawers. She watched as he tossed clothing onto the bed. “Hey! Get out of there. Stop that!” She smacked at his hand.

  But then Erin thought back to her meeting with Patricia. No book meant no boat. Maybe that could be the hook to get him motivated. “Okay. Fine, I’ll pack. Where did you put my suitcase?”

  He disappeared and came back with a small canvas duffle bag. He tossed it to her and said, “Use this. Takes up less room on the boat.”

  Erin compared the bag and the mass of clothes on the bed. She raised an eye
brow at Spence.

  “You don’t need much.”

  He jumped on her bed and, crossing his arms behind his head and watched as she waded through the pile of silky underwear.

  “Don’t you have anything better to do?”

  “Better than looking at a lady’s underwear? Nope. I keep a bag on the boat so I’m always good to go.”

  She grabbed a handful of silky clothes and quickly stuffed them in the bag. She added a few shorts and shirts, her toothbrush and toiletries.

  “Fine. I’m ready.”

  “Got your bathing suit?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good girl. Let’s go.”

  He picked up her bag and walked down the hall. She was not accustomed to being impetuous and tried to think of what else she might need. A bathing suit wasn’t even on the list.

  “Hold on. I need my laptop,” she called out. She grabbed her briefcase and followed him out the door. She paused in the living room, then dropped her laptop case on the table.

  “Wait. We need to get something straight before we go.”

  Spence halted, his hand resting on the door knob. “What?”

  “I’m here to work and I need some samples of your art to work with. Do you have any slides that we can bring? I need you to put your images on that thumb drive before we leave.”

  Spence shook his head. “People don’t use slides anymore so I’ve got everything digitized. I’ll grab the DVD. As for notes, well, they’re up here,” he added, tapping his forehead.

  Erin frowned, her lips pursing. “I suppose I can work on a boat, but I’ll have to have some reference material.”

  Spence smiled engagingly. “Don’t worry. I’ve got satellite Internet on the boat. We’ll be sliding down the coast, so you’ll have great reception. I’m sure whatever you need is available on the ‘net.”

  “You seem to have it all worked out, don’t you?”

  He winked, his face creasing in a good-natured smile. Erin felt a slow flush work up her neck.

  * * *

  Spence pulled into an empty parking place at the marina. He turned off the SUV. “Better leave the keys with the car. Just in case.” He lifted the floor mat and dropped the keys.

  “Just in case? What do you mean?”

  “In case we don’t come back.”

  Erin stared at him, open mouthed.

  “I don’t mean we’ll sink. I mean maybe we’ll keep going. Don’t know, could wind up in the Mediterranean. Ever been to Monaco?”

  “You jest.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She shrugged. She was paid to make him work. He could work on a boat, on an island, in a casino for all she cared.

  “Let’s get this straight, Spence. This is not a holiday. I’m here on assignment, and you have a contract. So long as you agree to work whenever I say, I’ll go with you. If not, then I have to go home and tell Mrs. McDowell that there’s no book.”

  “Agreed.”

  He led her down the weathered pier, toward the larger slips where his catamaran, “Fusion,” was made fast. Erin squinted at the giant, white multihull then down at her duffle bag. She could have brought ten suitcases aboard the boat.

  “Did this really cost $500,000?”

  “Who told you that?” he asked idly, taking her canvas tote and tossing it into the cockpit.

  “Umm. I forget.”

  “It’s a bit more than that,” he said, stretching one long, tanned leg to the stepped transom. He turned and held out a hand for her. “Closer to a million.”

  Erin gasped, her hand in his. “No way!”

  Spence smiled and tugged her gently, forcing her to step off the pier and onto the boat. He guided her hand to a lifeline and took her computer laptop, which she had slung over her shoulder. “Why don’t you get settled in? I’ve got to do a few things,” he said, looking over his shoulder. “Ah, there she is.”

  Erin followed his eyes and saw a young woman walking towards the boat, pulling a wagon. She had a baby perched on her hip, its blonde hair nearly transparent in the bright sunlight.

  “Hey Suzy-Q. Thanks for the grub,” he said, shoving the laptop back into Erin’s hands and reaching out for the baby. The woman smiled and handed Spence the giggling child, its arms outstretched.

  Spence swung the baby, clad only in a disposable diaper, in a circle before lightly tossing it in the air. He caught the infant deftly, and then tucked it under his left arm like a football.

  Suzy smiled, apparently familiar with Spence’s mishandling of her baby and not at all worried. She eyed Erin curiously, then with amusement, as Spence once again swung the baby, this time upside down holding its ankles.

  “Spence! That’s not how you treat a baby!” Erin cried in horror. She tossed her laptop onto the cockpit table, then she pulled the giggling baby out of his outstretched hands. She rocked it in her arms. “There, there. Don’t cry.”

  The baby’s dancing blue eyes enchanted Erin, and she hesitantly stroked its curls. She glanced at Suzy and quirked her lips.

  “Don’t worry; she loves it,” Suzy said. Then, turning her attention to Spence, she pulled a piece of paper out of her back pocket and handed it to him. “Here’s the list of the supplies you wanted. I had Henry fill the water tanks and top off your fuel. Run the exhaust fan for a few minutes, though, before starting the engines. Also, the cooler was empty, so I restocked it.

  “You’ve got plenty of soda and beer. Well, maybe not enough beer for you. Also, your mother said if you want your air tanks filled, you’re going to have to do it yourself. She’s having breakfast with a friend today and isn’t opening the shop until this afternoon.”

  “Nah, that’s alright. I’m not diving on this trip. Just a little snorkeling. Were you able to get everything?”

  Suzy pulled the wagon to the edge of the pier and started pulling out plastic grocery bags, handing them across the divide to Spence.

  “No. We don’t have fresh cherries. You’ll have to use canned. And you’ll have to make do with rib eye instead of porterhouse. Speaking of steak, check your propane. If you need any, just ring your bell and I’ll have Henry roll out another container.”

  Spence nodded, accepting bag after bag and dropping them carelessly into the cockpit.

  Erin watched the interplay, gently bouncing the baby on her hip. She wasn’t sure if she should help unload the bags.

  Spence made the choice for her. Dropping the last bag, he reached for the baby.

  “Come here, Miranda,” he said, his arms outstretched.

  Erin handed him the baby and turned towards the young mother. “By the way, I’m Erin Andersen. You have a beautiful daughter.”

  Suzy smiled in return. Erin wondered if she had seen many women with Spence, aggravated that she would now be lumped in the same category as the beautiful actresses and models he dated. On second thought, being mistaken for an actress wasn’t so bad, she thought.

  “Nice to meet you, Erin. I’m Susan Riger. Have a pleasant voyage and fair winds.” She turned to Spence. “Did you file a float plan?”

  “Yes; last night. Thanks, Suzy. Tell Mom I’ll call her later.” He gave Miranda a noisy kiss then blew a loud raspberry on her tummy. The baby squirmed and squealed with delight. Then he handed her to her mother.

  “Ewww. She’s all slobbery now,” Suzy said, using her shirt to wipe off her daughter’s tummy. Then she cradled the baby in front of her, waving its tiny hand toward Spence and Erin. “Say ‘bye bye.’” Then she walked away, pulling her wagon, her baby cradled on her hip.

  Erin watched her retreating back, then turned to Spence. “Thanks for the introduction.”

  He frowned. “Oh hey, I’m sorry. That’s Suzy. She and Henry run the chandlery here at the marina.”

  “Your manners are appalling,” she said, lifting her chin defiantly.

  He studied her for a moment before nodding. “You’re right. I apologize.” He picked up several grocery sacks and handed her one. “Help me stow this food.”
He paused, then added, “Please.”

  Erin accepted the bags and followed him into the salon. She forgot her irritation and circled slowly admiring the plush and roomy interior. “My God, this is amazing. There’s so much space in here!”

  Spence smiled as he dropped the bags on the galley counter. “Yeah, ‘cats’ are much more spacious than a single hull sailboat. I’ll give you a tour if you stow the groceries.”

  Erin stepped toward him and leaned over his arm as he lifted a concealed door.

  “Here’s the refrigerator,” he said. “Its top loading, so don’t put anything you want at the bottom or you won’t be able to reach it easily.” He dropped the heavy door, then pointed out various drawers and doors. “Here’s the pantry. Here’s the stove. It’s gas, so it cooks quickly. Here’s the microwave and the trash compactor and over here is a drop-down TV for when you’re cooking.”

  “This is more luxurious than my own kitchen,” Erin admired, running her hand across the dark faux stone countertop. Everything was color coordinated and the fixtures were brushed nickel. “Of course, my apartment didn’t cost me a million, either.”

  Spence pointed toward the bow. “My stateroom is forward. Your berth is to port.” He picked up her canvas tote and walked down three steps into the port hull.

  Erin followed. “This is amazing,” she marveled. “I can’t believe how big it is. You can’t tell from outside that there’s this much space.”

  Spence tossed her tote onto a queen-sized island berth then turned slightly. He opened a small door and tilted his head. “Here’s a hanging locker, but there’s not a lot of room in it. I keep my stuff in drawers.

  He tried to move past Erin, but hesitated in the narrow passageway. He put a hand on the bulkhead while he moved around her. At the same time, she stepped out of the way. The end result was her head bumping his chin.

  “Oof,” he said.

  “Ouch,” she said, the contact making her bite the inside of her mouth. She touched her tongue pulling away bright red fingertips. “Ecch. I’m bleeding.”