‘I don’t need anything from you.’ She struggled to sit up, still holding the blanket close and glaring at him, hoping he’d take the hint and disappear. How could she have dreamed of him when it was her mother she’d come in here to be close to? To think about? And she’d hardly thought of her mum at all. Guilty heat rose up her neck.
‘A grumpy riser.’ His shoulders lifted and bunched, his thumbs rubbing the side of the mug. ‘A sure sign you didn’t get enough. Sleep,’ he clarified, a hint of humour in his eyes.
‘Don’t you have something to do? A watch to be on?’ A plank to walk?
‘Free as a bird. Which reminds me, you missed the albatross we spotted off the starboard side about thirty minutes ago.’
‘Thirty minutes ago?’ She swung her legs over the side of the bunk.
‘That’s a sign of good luck, right?’
‘I hope so.’ A thought struck her as her feet hit the floor with a thud. ‘Isn’t your surname Davies?’
‘It was my mother’s name. Why?’
‘Never mind. Thanks for the tea.’ She indicated a cubbyhole beside the bunk preferring to avoid even the slightest possibility of skin contact lest she spontaneously combust in an inferno of lust. ‘Here’s fine.’ Now go away.
He set it down. ‘Brie says to tell you we’ll have a fair wind the rest of the way and all is under control.’
‘Tell Brie I’ll be five minutes.’
The instant he’d gone, she blew out the breath she’d been holding and hugged her knees to her chest. She wished she were under control. Ever since she’d met this man her hold on life as she knew it seemed to be slipping away.
‘Skipper?’
She whipped her head around to see him there again.
‘Just so you know, I won’t be participating in any after-race celebrations.’
‘That’s up to you. You’ve done more than enough for our cause, so thank you.’ She picked up her tea, lifted it to her lips and studied him over the rim, telling herself she wasn’t disappointed. ‘Sick of our company already, huh?’
‘I’ve got other plans.’
‘But you and Brie—’
‘Already arranged.’
‘Oh. Great. Good.’
He started to turn then stopped, raised a finger as if something had slipped his mind. ‘Another thing. I won’t be pursuing our promised discussion. If you were expecting me to call,’ he added.
‘Fine.’ She said it like an accusation. Her fingers tightened on the mug. ‘Why not?’ The fragile words spilled free before she could censor them, which only infuriated her further. She’d been so determined not to come across as that needy woman.
‘You made it clear that’s the way you want it. I respect that.’ But he reached out, tucked a loose strand of her hair behind her ear and she caught a whiff of his soap on his hands. ‘Breanna has my phone number if you change your mind.’
She watched him turn and leave. He’d done some thinking on board and decided Olivia’s type didn’t appeal to his sophisticated taste. Probably relieved she’d knocked his offer back.
A part of her wished he hadn’t, another part earned her respect.
EIGHT
‘Jett’s gone into lockdown because he doesn’t want any more media hassles,’ Brie told Olivia as she packed her bag. She was flying to one of tropical northern Queensland’s remote islands with some fellow beauty therapists later this afternoon. ‘I think he’s well and truly done his bit. Which means he could probably do with some company. Being on his own and all.’
Olivia and Brie had been staying in one of Hobart’s luxury hotels near the waterfront, recuperating after the race and enjoying Tassie’s Taste Festival. Despite their upgraded suite having three master bedrooms, Jett had conveniently found accommodation in the penthouse upstairs. Who else but the Jettsetter Chef would be able to source five-star penthouse accommodation in a fully booked city during the busiest week on Hobart’s calendar?
The press had swooped and swarmed all over him when they’d docked. Olivia had been surprised and eternally grateful for his good humour towards the reporters—he’d been a genuine and enthusiastic spokesperson for the foundation, even agreeing to an appearance on the local TV morning show in the coming week.
So Brie had told her.
Because Olivia hadn’t seen or heard from him since he’d walked away from Chasing Dawn at the marina.
‘Liv, did you hear me?’
‘Yes.’ Olivia looked up from the novel she was trying to read. ‘Company.’ She’d never liked the taste of sour grapes but there was a whole bunch in her mouth right now. She knew Brie and Jett had caught up. She hadn’t asked for details but he was obviously the reason for Brie’s happy demeanour. ‘What sort of company are we talking about?’