She nodded. ‘You’ll find out if you join us.’
‘The entire crew? The skipper too?’ His smugness seemed to have disappeared altogether.
She tipped an imaginary cap. ‘Yours truly.’
‘But...’
‘I know. Unlucky for some, but Chasing Dawn’s had her fair share of women aboard and she’s not sprung a leak yet.’ She swore he blanched and she pressed her lips together to stop her enjoyment from showing too much. ‘Come on, Jett. Say yes. Please. We need you.’
‘Please, Jett,’ Brie chimed in. ‘It’s for a good cause and we’re having roast quail and veg on our first night at sea.’
Olivia knew they’d never win the race—it had never been about winning. The whole reason behind the motivation was to raise money and awareness, and a celebrity aboard would be just what they needed. A sexy celebrity chef even better.
A sexy celebrity chef out of his comfort zone the best of all—the media would eat it up.
Roast quail. Was that supposed to be a deal maker? Jett detected the tiniest twitch at the corner of Olivia’s mouth and ground down on his back teeth. He’d been outmanoeuvred. His masculine pride was at stake, because he knew from bitter personal experience that seasickness could turn the toughest of the tough into a whimpering shipwreck of a man.
And that was before leaving the dock.
‘You’re right about the late notice. Too bad, I didn’t bring the appropriate gear.’
‘No worries.’ Her reassuring tone did nothing to alleviate his quickly burgeoning discomfort. Already he could feel the roll and swell beneath his feet.
‘We have caps and T-shirts with the foundation’s logo left over from last year’s charity run,’ she told him. ‘Rest assured, we’ll find one to fit you. And we have abundant spray jackets and oilskins on hand for when it gets rough.’
When it gets rough. Her gaze drifted down his body as she spoke, raising goose-bumps and questions he wasn’t game to ask. Like whether it was too late to check in. Or back out. Except quitting was never going to be an option.
‘Think about it over dessert,’ Brie suggested, giving him time to digest this new twist as a traditional flaming plum pudding was carried in and set on the table.
He helped himself to a second slice a few moments later. Olivia surprised him. Her drive and enthusiasm for a cause she believed in. Other girls her age were self-absorbed party princesses. When he’d first seen her he’d thought she was the same, but now he knew differently. And he wanted to help her.
But did it have to be on a boat?
He was still digesting the idea when they’d scraped their bowls clean, licked the last of the brandy sauce from their spoons and Breanna said, ‘Presents time,’ and pushed up from the table.
An uncomfortable sensation slid down Jett’s spine but Breanna was right behind him, her hands on his shoulders. ‘Relax, bro.’
Slipping a hand around his arm, she steered him to the Christmas tree with its glossy wrapped parcels beneath.
He reached for the swing bag with its exclusive store logo etched in silver. ‘This is for you.’ He held it out to Brie. ‘It’s probably not the right sort for a beauty therapist...’ He shrugged, feeling awkward.
She grinned. ‘French label, are you kidding? I’ll love it. Thank you.’
He turned to Olivia. ‘I wasn’t expecting you.’ He realised he meant that in more ways than one as he handed her the tissue-wrapped crystal vase he’d purchased in the hotel’s gift shop earlier this morning.
She met his gaze with a smile in her eyes that said she was as surprised as he. That maybe she’d forgiven him for the moment. ‘It was all kind of last minute, wasn’t it?’
‘I’ve waited a long time to share Christmas with you,’ Breanna said. ‘So here you are.’ She reached down, picked up a box, held it out. ‘Merry Christmas.’
He took it from her hands but it felt weird. ‘Thanks.’
‘Merry Christmas, Jett.’ Olivia held out a smaller packet.
‘Hey, I didn’t expect—’
‘Why don’t you sit on the couch and open them?’ Breanna suggested, sitting down herself and patting the space beside her, then reaching into her swing bag. ‘I can’t wait to smell this perfume.’
He sat next to his sister. Since it was on top, he opened Olivia’s gift first. A pair of soft kid gloves.
‘For Melbourne’s winter,’ she told him. ‘I hear it gets cold there.’
‘Thanks. They’re great.’ He admired the deep charcoal colour, her thoughtfulness. ‘You’ve never been to Melbourne, then?’