I want You Deeper

Renee was out of her depth here. And she was saying that from a boat that was sailing into very, very sizable depths.

She stood in the kitchen, staring at the four plates she’d set

out. They were the type of plates you’d see in a restaurant-that was what had her feeling so intimidated. These plates were waiting to hold food prepared by a professional chef, not a TV reporter on the hunt for her next scoop.

Before the ship could get too far away from land, Renee had snuck into the bathroom and screenshot a bunch of recipes. Salads, pork chops, steaks -all working with the seasonings she was likely to find out there. But now, standing in the small commercial kitchen, she stared into the pantry as if she’d never seen garlic salt or paprika before.

Since it was lunchtime, the pressure was relatively low. She found some Mahi Mahi that she hoped Derek had brought on board that morning. There were tortillas, so she blackened the Mahi Mahi and made tacos, garnishing each plate with a couple of lime wedges. She topped each taco with some cabbage and a bell pepper she’d sliced up. It looked gourmet enough, she figured. After lunch, she’d have to do a full inventory of the items in the kitchen and plan meals for the next two weeks. The last thing they needed was to run out of food.

“Looks delicious,” Derek commented later as they sat down at the table. “Where’s April?”

“She took the captain’s plate to him.” And hers, too. She’d told Renee she didn’t want him to have to eat alone. “I think she may have a little crush on him.”

“No!” Derek teased, pure sarcasm. “What possibly gave you that idea?”

Laughing, Renee settled in across from him at the table. “I’d love to see your captain’s chair!” she said, imitating the words April had said earlier during their tour.

Anyone who was paying attention would have noticed the way April had looked at Captain Jake. And, objectively speaking, she could see it. The guy was several years younger than Renee, but at that age, she would have found him attractive. April was that age, Renee was pretty sure, so it made sense.

“I hope he’s single,” Renee commented as she took a bite of her taco.

She closed her eyes to savor the flavors. Perfect.

“I wouldn’t know.”

At Derek’s comment, Renee’s eyes popped open. “What do you mean you wouldn’t know?”

“We don’t discuss that sort of thing.”

She stared at him, all chewing having stopped. He didn’t seem to notice her stunned look as he squeezed lime over his tacos. “You’ve been trapped on a boat with him for…how long? And I assume you knew him before that. How do you not discuss your situation at home?”

“He’s my employee, and besides, dudes don’t sit around talking about our relationships. We just…don’t.”

She couldn’t say that didn’t match what she’d observed over the years. Her father never seemed to know what was going on with anyone he knew -man, woman, child, whatever. It was all about surface stuff.

“I guess maybe I could ask him.” Renee thought about that a second, then shook her head. “I don’t want him to think I’m hitting on him or something. April will just have to sort it out.”

Now Derek was watching her. He kept chewing, but he did so slowly, thoughtfully. He seemed to be processing what she was saying. “So, what’s your situation?”

The question almost made her choke on the sip of water she’d just taken. Was he…asking about her love life? It definitely seemed like he was. But she didn’t want to assume he was and get it wrong. That would be super embarrassing.

She decided to play it safe. “I’m between jobs, as I said. I guess right now I’m just between everything. I have to figure out where I’m going to be in five years before I can think about anything else.”

Was that vague enough? She certainly hoped so. Whether it was or not, he was looking at her with appreciation, and that was definitely a positive result.

“This was my dream,” he said.

He set his half-eaten taco down and unscrewed the cap on his water. She took another bite of her own taco and patiently waited while he sipped. Finally, her patience paid off. He kept going with his story.

“From a young age, I just wanted to escape. To get away from the pressures of everything. School, friends, family…the pressure to succeed. I started working when I was sixteen. Did I mention that?”

She shook her head. She wondered if that work was the business that had eventually turned him into a billionaire.

“Not just a part-time after-school job, either,” he continued. “Although that’s hard work, too. I was building big boats. Construction. I learned everything I could about the business so that when I-” He broke off and the slightly dazed look in his eyes vanished.

Renee immediately knew what was going on here. He’d been about to say something about the company he’d founded, and that would risk giving away his identity. Although he might be opening up to her a little, he was going to keep that part of his life safely tucked away, it appeared.

“When I started selling, I quickly became one of the best in my industry.” He smiled. “I guess that sounds like bragging.”

She returned his smile. “Hey, brag away. I like seeing people accomplish things in life.”

“You’re the same. I can tell.”

He sat back in his chair, holding the bottled water. She was stunned to see he’d already cleared his plate of the three tacos she’d served him. She only made two for herself and she still had one left. Hopefully, that was a sign he liked her creation.

“I’m pretty driven, which makes being let go even harder.”

No way would she admit to him that her career had been pretty much all she’d had in life, which made her job loss an even fiercer blow. She’d had to move out to California to take the job, leaving her friends and family behind, and working around the clock meant no time to meet new people. Aside from her coworkers at the station-none of whom had even called in to check on her since her firing-she spoke to pretty much no one on a daily basis.

It was a lonely existence, but she’d loved that job.© NôvelDrama.Org - All rights reserved.

“Seems a chef like you would be in demand. You certainly have the talent. I’d hire you if I owned a restaurant.” “You did hire me,” she reminded him.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that.”

Their gazes held for a long moment that made her heart do a little jump a couple of times. In his eyes, she was his employee. In her eyes, he was the subject of an investigative piece she was secretly writing. In either scenario, any sort of romantic entanglement was one hundred percent out of the question.

She cleared her throat and forced her gaze to her plate. Time to tackle the last taco.

“Where exactly do you live?” Derek asked right after Renee took a generous bite of her taco. She used the excuse that she couldn’t speak with her mouth full as a delaying tactic. She should have a quick answer to that one.

“San Diego,” she said when she finally could speak again.

It was a safe answer because it was far away enough from the island she’d met him on for it to have been a getaway. But most importantly, it was far, far from where he lived before he’d gone into hiding. Her goal was to continue to stay away from saying anything that might jar his memory if, by chance, he was a fan of local news.

“Nice city. I haven’t spent nearly enough time there. Are you tied to San Diego, or would you be open to working anywhere?”

Again, he seemed to be forgetting that she was, indeed, working “anywhere.” She wasn’t even sure where she was working right at this exact moment.

“You could always travel around with us until you figure it out,” Derek suggested. “I know cooking for four may not be your thing, but this crew will have to grow pretty quickly. Captain Jake and I have a tough time managing this superyacht.”

Renee’s eyes widened. “Superyacht? Is that a new thing?”

“That’s what I…sell.”

The hesitation at the end of his sentence told her he wanted to say “build.” He built superyachts.

“What’s the difference between a yacht and a superyacht?”

“Size.”

“And owners. I assume you typically sell to someone with more money in his bank account than the combined population of most cities.”

“Not always his bank account. We sell to women, couples, families, corporations that have yachts to impress clients…”

Renee knew her face betrayed her feelings on that. Everything scrunched up as if she’d just tasted something horrendous. The idea of some CEO buying up a yacht just to show off and make money…

But she wouldn’t dare say that. Derek was one of those CEOs who had done just that. In fact, the superyacht she was sitting on at this very moment likely had been bought to impress people. He just happened to find it a handy place to go into hiding for whatever reason.

She wasn’t here to care. She was here to get the story. Focus.

“So, this is one of the boats you sell?” Renee asked, redirecting her efforts toward learning more about him. Not that she could learn more about someone who was hiding everything.

“Yep. My boss lets me sail around on it. It’s kind of like a model home on the water.”

Did he really think she bought that? That a company would just let a yacht sales guy float around from one piece of land to another with a captain and crew? It didn’t even make sense, but she couldn’t blow his cover while she was trapped on a boat with him for two weeks. That meant she had to play along.

“Like when someone goes to a neighborhood that’s still under construction?” Renee asked, trying her best to sound clueless about boating. She didn’t have to try very hard-she actually was clueless about boating.

“Exactly. We custom build yachts to customer specifications. This allows them to get an idea of what we can do. Then they can decide what they want and don’t want.”

“Really. There are enough super wealthy people out there that you’re just building these humongous yachts all the time?”

He laughed, showing off a row of perfectly straight teeth. He was already starting to get a five o’clock shadow and it was still early afternoon. She wondered if he’d even taken time to shave lately, considering he’d been hiding out in an inn, waiting for a storm to pass.

“Not in droves,” he answered. “It’s like a really expensive house. You sell one at a time, but you make a bigger profit than companies selling smaller boats and yachts, so it evens out.”

That made sense. She made her living telling stories, basically. Often that meant getting to know people and exposing things they didn’t want other people to know, which was sort of the same, now that she thought about it. She had to convince people to talk to her, just as Derek had to convince people to buy from him.

But it wasn’t the same at all. He wasn’t a salesperson. He was like the station management who had decided to go in a different direction and got rid of her. He sat at the top, making decisions, while other people got out there and kept the business going.

Or maybe she was underestimating him. He definitely seemed like a hard worker. She didn’t see him as someone who ever just sat around. What she wished, more than anything right this second, was that she could get to know the real Derek Hughes, not this person he was pretending to be.