Distracted (5 page)

“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 eyebrow 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.”