Romancing the Seas Read online

  • • •

  As Pippa sat in the lobby the next morning waiting for the doorman to get her a taxi, she found herself disagreeing with whoever penned the phrase “everything looks better in the morning.” Little things (was her case too big for the suite?) up to the big things (how on earth would she manage?) competed in her mind as to which could knot her gut the most.

  Catching sight of Jonathon standing at the door glued to his phone, Pippa realised it was a no-brainer — he caused the ultimate twist.

  Get a grip. He’s only a man. Relax. And you, heart, just do your normal everyday business. Don’t go speeding up on me. Chill.

  A girl checking out caught her eye and waved. Hurrying over, she collapsed on the sofa next to her. “Hi, I’m Fiona. Mr. Eagleton asked me yesterday to look out for you and to stick by you until you find your sea legs. I came in late last night; otherwise, I would have rung and introduced myself. I’m the front office manager, in charge of customer accommodation.” The Irish lilt to Fiona’s words, as well as the words themselves, put Pippa instantly at ease with the older girl.

  “I’m Pippa. It’s lovely to meet you.”

  But Fiona’s gaze was focused over Pippa’s shoulder. “He’s gorgeous, isn’t he?” Fiona indicated Jonathon’s departing back. “All the girls are mad about him and some of the men too,” she said with raised eyebrows and a giggle.

  “I’m sure,” murmured Pippa, not really wanting to get into this conversation.

  “How are you? Are you looking forward to your first couple of weeks on board?”

  “I am, yes, thanks.”

  “Jean-Pierre is around for another week — he’s a complete sweetheart. There will be plenty of time for you to get to know everybody, and the ins and outs of the kitchen. Come on, here’s a taxi for us.” Fiona stood up and waited for Pippa to go out ahead of her to the waiting taxi.

  With a palpable sigh, Pippa sank back into the back seat. Thankfully, she wasn’t going to be on her own in a new kitchen. Her gut-wrenching nerves calmed and fizzy excitement filled her blood to race around her body. She stared out the window, eager for her first glimpse of her new home. When she did see the ship, she took her breath away.

  Majestic in the water and definitely the queen of the bay, the Princess Coral dwarfed all other floating vessels, rendering them her faithful servants, there to pay homage. Pride glimmered Pippa’s heart; it would be no mean feat to be associated with this beauty. There was the ubiquitous swimming pool, a small ice rink, a climbing wall, a spa, and a gym. Everything needed to pamper the passengers. A small floating city, she had five different catering establishments ranging from coffee and snacks up to the elegant five-star restaurant, Corals, catering for every taste bud.

  Unable to stay away for even a minute longer, Pippa headed to the kitchen to ask for Jean-Pierre. The glance she got from him told her he wasn’t expecting anything great from her. Quite the opposite, in fact. She inwardly sighed; being Mr. Mulberry’s latest recruit wasn’t doing her any favours.

  The kitchen was compact, sure, but well equipped with gleaming work surfaces. Her pride took on a new shine — this would be her domain soon. The thought gave her the energy to keep up with Jean-Pierre as he spoke rapidly and strode through the kitchen. This was going to be exhausting. Yet he stopped when she mentioned Marcus Longbottom.

  “’e was a good man to work for, you are a lucky lady. I trained with ’im some time ago. You must be a very good chef.” His eyes sharpened on her face as he spoke, and he gave her a half smile. From then on, Pippa peppered him with excited questions and he answered them all with great deliberation. By the end of a couple of hours shadowing him, Pippa had a lot of confidence in both the kitchen and the staff. Excitement seamlessly mixed with nerves. If only she had some other accommodation, she would be enjoying herself. Yet every time she thought of the suite, her heart plummeted as though someone had just thrown it over the side of the ship.

  “And then of course, you ’ave the Captain’s Dinner.” They were in the small office to the side of the kitchen as Jean-Pierre talked through the culinary activity of the next two weeks. Pippa had half an eye on the kitchen out through the window, liking the fact she would work in here and still see what went on. “The cruise ends there for you. The evening is very special: we ’ave a five-course menu, each course served with a complementing wine, and the night is generally regarded as the Grand Ball of the voyage. I am sure with your abilities you will ’ave no problem, no problem at all.”

  Pippa nodded, but to her a five-course meal for two hundred people sounded like it would present a few challenges.

  Fiona passed by the window, and stopped when she saw them. She popped her head around the ajar door. “I’m heading to the staff canteen, do you want to come?”

  Pippa nodded, then turned to thank Jean-Pierre.

  When they reached the deck, Pippa looked out at the view, and a smile sprang to her lips as she took in the Hauraki Gulf passing before them on their way to Mercury Island.

  “I can’t wait to get out hiking when we dock at Milford Sound,” she said.

  “We get a break before then. We stop at Kaikoura for the passengers to disembark until the following morning, so we’re all free for twenty-four hours. Mind you, I don’t know who you’ll get to go hiking, we’re not a very active bunch here.” Fiona gave a half-smile.

  “Oh, I don’t mind, I like hiking on my own.”

  As they entered the small canteen, a babble of noise greeted them, and Fiona stood on her tiptoes to look around and waved to someone she spotted. “Come and meet my boyfriend, David. He’s the head chef for the Chinese restaurant, and the steakhouse.”

  David stood as the girls arrived. “Hello, Pippa, I’m pleased to meet you. Do let me know if there’s anything I can do to help you settle in.” He slipped an arm around Fiona’s waist. “Hey, sweetheart, have you heard who’s on board yet?”

  “No?” Fiona glanced at Pippa, eyebrows raised.

  “Well … ” said David, teasingly drawing it out. “You’ll know the daughter from all the celebrity magazines you buy. Our new, esteemed CEO is wining and dining her family.”

  “Who is it?” demanded Fiona.

  “It’s the Stevensons, from Stevenson Hotels!”

  Fiona shrieked. “I don’t believe it, no way, not on board here! How cool! Is Juliet here?”

  Juliet Stevenson, the heiress, was always gracing the magazines with her nonchalant style and not-so-nonchalant escapades.

  David nodded.

  “Wow,” breathed Fiona, yet to return to earth. “I can’t wait to see her. I wonder what she’ll be wearing.”

  So that was who Jonathon was going to be entertaining. Good luck to him. Juliet was, if the magazines were anything to go by, notoriously high maintenance. Oh God. What if he had plans to entertain her in the suite they were sharing? She could just imagine coming in after her shift, greeted by low lights, sultry music, and him moving in for a kiss. Could this get any worse?

  “Onto even more exciting things.” David leaned across the table with a gleam in his eyes. “I hear you’ve got some great accommodation, Pippa!”

  Pippa opened her mouth to answer when she heard a commotion at the door. One of the commis chefs she’d met earlier in Corals kitchen came in, calling for her.

  “I’m here,” she called, nerves starting anew.

  “Hi,” he called, and made his way over, stopping to say hi to a few people on the way as Pippa’s heart skipped several beats. “I’ve a message for you from Mr. Eagleton. He’s having the Stevensons to dinner in the executive dining room and wants you to cook.”

  Pippa stared at him. “What, tonight?”

  “He wants to meet you in the kitchen now.”

  Chapter Three

  Pippa left the staff canteen and the sound of laughter behind as s
he headed to see Jonathon. By the time she reached the kitchen, nausea swirled seamlessly with her tiredness. He stood by the office door in the near empty kitchen, looking through some papers.

  “Pippa, glad to see you got the message. Come over, please.”

  “Yes, Mr. Eagleton, what can I do for you?”

  “Jean-Pierre is busy with the opening ball tonight, so I need you to cook for me and the Stevensons. We are out to impress, so please ensure it is cooked well. Also, I should be the one to show you to your home for the next two weeks. On the way, we can discuss the menu.” He moved toward the door and Pippa stepped into pace, thanking her lucky stars she knew exactly what the kitchen carried.

  “I think we should keep it simple. A hot starter, then a chicken main course followed by a nice dessert and cheese. I’ll leave the details up to you. I do know the Stevensons have no dietary restrictions, so prepare whatever you think will wow them.” Jonathon looked at her, but Pippa kept her gaze pinned to the floor.

  “Yes, sure, what time would you like to eat?” Amazed her words came out clearly, Pippa tried to ignore the thumping of her heart. They were on the way to see their suite. She, who couldn’t even share with her sister now had to share with an unfamiliar and, yeah, let’s face it, drop-dead gorgeous bloke. Not to forget he was her boss too. Oh God, they were slowing down …

  “About nine, please. Here it is.” He opened a door and stood back.

  Pippa swallowed to get rid of the lump in her throat and went in ahead of Jonathon, straight into the living room, decked out in coffee and cream colours. A large sofa drew the eye straight to it. Despite the early hour, the lamps threw a clear glow onto the countryside paintings scattered throughout. Light gauze curtains of the palest blue swept inwards from a breeze off the balcony. A small oak bar curved into a corner, opposite of which the television — all fifty-two inches of it — presided.

  Three doors lead from the living room. Pippa opened the nearest one to see a big double bed monopolising the room, suits and shirts hanging in the open wardrobe. Treacherous thoughts and sensations flashed an image of waking up beside him, feeling his warm body next to hers.

  “That’s my room, and my bed.”

  Pippa looked back at him. What had he said? It was as though his words came at her muted, through the haze of images that clouded her senses.

  “Where’s my room?” She managed to get the words out of very tight lips as she backed away from his bedroom.

  “This way.” Jonathon crossed the living room to the opposite side and opened the door with a flourish. Man, he was sarcastic.

  Thankfully, her room radiated calm and peace. A cream and grape quilt covered the queen double bed, with floor to ceiling built in wardrobes reflecting her image back to her. She stepped through a smaller open door to a shower room — gentle music piped through when she flicked the light switch. Best of all, she had access to the balcony, which stretched from her room past the living room and the master bedroom. It was to here she escaped, gratefully breathing in the sea air in the hope it would soothe her hot face and stop her mind on its relentless cycle: how would she share this space with a man who sent her senses fizzing alive just by being in the same vicinity as her? Working with Marcus had been hard, but nothing compared to this.

  Her senses sharpened. The breeze wafted sea-salt through the air and she saw Jonathon stepping out of the living room to stand by her side. The irony of the situation nearly made her laugh aloud. Here they were, in one of the most romantic settings in the world, looking out as New Zealand slowly revealed itself. Yet the emotions that seethed between them, shifting and rolling, made her feel decidedly queasy. She couldn’t even blame it on the sea, as she had always had perfect sea legs.

  “It’s a spectacular view, and I don’t think I could ever get bored with the changing coastline.” Jonathon raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

  Okay, in the name of diplomatic relations, she could do nice. Being nice was preferable to what had been going on previously between the two of them.

  “It’s wonderful, isn’t it? I love hiking, or tramping as they call it here. I’m not sure how long it will take before the need to get out there overwhelms me.”

  “Are you often overwhelmed?”

  To her dismay, Pippa felt her face growing hot in the sea air. She had never been one for blushing before — so why now?

  “No, not really. It takes a lot to get to me.” And why did she respond like that? Something had taken control of her tongue; she sounded like a flirt. Jonathon obviously thought so, for he swung around, resting his back against the balcony to look fully into her face.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pardon?” More confusion. What was he saying now? Was her resolve under dispute? Did he think she’d fold as soon as something went wrong?

  “Well, could I, for instance, get to you?” Uh-oh, he was flirting. And he was definitely getting to her. One minute he looked through her, the next he looked right into her very soul, making her feel she was new, fresh, and had been put on this earth for him and him only. A shiver ran through her, weakening her knees and sending a sparkle deep into her core.

  She had to pull this back onto dry land. “I don’t see why you’d want to, Mr. Eagleton. Not only am I just your chef, but also we happen to be sharing this suite for the next fourteen days. In the interest of diplomatic relations, I think we should perhaps try not to get to each other.”

  She caught a smile on his face as he turned back to view Mercury Island. “You can call me Jonathon, Pippa. And it’s interesting you have to try not to let me get to you.”

  Not what she meant at all.

  “Oh, you … ” She stumbled to a halt and decided to leave before she said something she regretted. “I’m out of here.” She turned back through the suite, wishing she could slam the door, but the hinge on the top of the door made it close an inch at a time. Slow enough for her to hear Jonathon’s voice follow her through the cabin.

  “I’m looking forward to my dinner tonight, thanks, Pippa.”

  Would he insist on needling her every time they met? Infuriating man. What had she ever done to deserve his lack of basic stranger’s courtesy — where you assume people are nice until proven wrong?

  Stop thinking about him, and start thinking about his menu instead. Nice and simple. Hot starter, chicken main, and dessert. For him and the little heiress.

  Cooked well, indeed!

  • • •

  Jonathon remained out on the little balcony. Pippa had a good point: they were doomed to spend the next fourteen days in close quarters, so they should be adult about their relationship and ensure they got on. If he were being honest with himself, he didn’t know what had gotten into him. Something irrepressible in him had enjoyed throwing little comments her way to see how she fielded them. She’d kept things above board, despite some goading.

  He had enjoyed being out on the balcony with her, the sea breeze playing with her curls, and her green eyes changing to reflect the blue green of the sea. New Zealand would suit her very well, with the multitude of variations on blue and green, and all the shades in between. Pippa’s flushes weren’t disguised under foundation, but instead brought a glow to her face with her clear skin being shown off to its best advantage. She looked disingenuous when she flushed, cross when she delivered her barbed comments, but when she relaxed he found it hard to drag his eyes from her. The ever-present frown fading brought her face close to beauty, with her sparkling eyes, snub nose, and curved lips. She intrigued him.

  Fine, he could admit that much to himself, but there was where the attraction, if that’s what he could call it, stopped. Pippa Renshaw obviously used any means to progress her career — who knows, maybe she would decide that he was the one to seduce now Mulberry had been fired.

  His iPhone rang, dragging him away from his dark thoughts. “
Jonathon Eagleton.”

  “Jonathon, hiiiii, Juliet Stevenson.” Her Texan accent drawled the words. “I’m just in my suite, and I wondered whether you could come and check something out for me? I’m in the Milford Suite.”

  “Oh? I hope everything is how you’d expect?”

  Juliet expertly pitched her laugh, designed to get any red-blooded male’s pulse beating faster. The sound only irritated him, overblown blondes not being his type.

  “There’s just one teensy weensy detail that I’m hoping you may be able to assist me with. Don’t be long!” She hung up without waiting for an answer.

  As he locked the door behind him, unease sank in his gut. Barely out of port and Juliet was already demanding special treatment. Unfortunately, her suite wasn’t far away, and he soon found himself knocking on the Milford door.

  “Door’s open, darling, come on in. I’m on the balcony.”

  Making his way through the living room, he noted that Juliet seemed to have made herself at home. An open champagne bottle sat in a cooler, and the open bedroom door showed the bed already turned down.

  When he stepped onto the balcony, he realised what a bad move he had made. Standing at the railing and clad in what seemed to be only a gold silk wrap, stockings, and high-heeled glass slippers, Juliet handed him a glass of champagne.

  “Have a little drink, sweetie. Alcohol is good for sea legs, or so I hear.” She smiled at him, whiter than white teeth gleaming.

  “Thanks, Juliet.” Jonathon took the glass. He had to get out of here, and fast. “So what can I do for you?” he asked, keeping his face carefully bland.

  “Well, it’s like this.” Juliet took another drink from her champagne flute and Jonathon realised with an inward grimace she had been drinking already. “I love being out here on the balcony — I feel free. But the trouble is, the wind keeps playing with my wrap.” As though to highlight her point, the wrap blew up, showing the tops of her lacy stockings. “I’ll be cold, and I do hate being cold.” She turned to him and playfully head butted his shoulder.