Hooked (11 page)

"Turns you on?" Her blushing stammer gave me the courage to say it.

"That's one way of putting it. An egotistical way, but one way."

"Can we make a deal?" I took her shoulders and turned her to face me. Her whiskey eyes were enough to make a man drunk with desire. 'Sensitive' had never been my middle name as far as women went, but this time I knew without a doubt that hers was a potion to be sipped, not gulped.

"What kind of deal?" She sounded suspicious and I guess I had given her reason to be.

"The kind where you give me a chance."

"I'm beginning to think that the best way to handle this is for me to say
adios
when we reach Paradise Island."

"You can't mean that."

"I sure can mean it." She walked a pace away from me, breaking my touch."Why should I subject myself to being chased around the proverbial desk by my boss--or my bosses son, if you insist? You
have
been told we're in the 21st century, right? Between the crack about me being better looking than Angelo to the sex on the deck outside my window . . ."

"Porthole."

"Okay, porthole."

"I think it's nice to call things by their proper names."

"Well then, the proper name for what you are doing is known as 'sexual harrassment'."

"Oh
come on
."

"You should count yourself lucky if all I do is abandon ship."

"Okay, okay. I'm sorry I tried to kiss you."

"You did kiss me."

"It was the attempt I regret, not the event." She looked confused. "Look, I wish I hadn't rushed you. Wish I hadn't made you uncomfortable. But I won't lie and say I'm not glad to have done it."

Lara put more space between us. Her face was unreadable. I wondered if I could have so completely misinterpreted her 'female semaphore' as she so cleverly put it. Was I just so used to women coming on to me that I figured every one of them was? If so, I was as unbelievably stuck on myself as she said I was.

"Here's my deal, take it or leave it. You back down on the whole smexy whorehound routine while we cross the pond. At least take it somewhere other than my
porthole
or my
galley
and
no more naked visits in the wee small hours, okay?"

"What do I get out of it?" My question got the first real laugh I'd heard from her. It trilled like melodic bells through me. I wanted to make her laugh again and again.

"You get a damn good cook. You get the opportunity not to have your ass sued off for being such a dick."

At that point it felt like a stay of execution. It hadn't dawned on me that she could very well bolt when we reached the Bahamas. Once we were well underway for the crossing, it wouldn't be nearly as easy for her to overreact. I
had
way overplayed my hand. Now I was going to have to crawl back from from the rear. It was my mistake to try a tired routine with her. What worked with Phebes' friends was a big-ass red flag to a girl of Lara's ilk.

I couldn't blame her. From the moment she'd stepped on board El Lobo, I'd been alternately a snob, a sexist, and undoubtedly the kind of predator that the good Professor's Lamb tried to keep well away from their fierce little kitten.

Protesting that I was 'so much more' than what met her eye sounded hollow even when I said it in my head.

Chapter 11--Lara

The urge to run was intense. On a two hundred foot boat I was limited. I knew I sounded a lot stronger than I felt inside. Better to keep the act going than give in to the urge to hide. Maybe this was the universe's way of testing me to see if any lessons ever got through my thick head. 'Suck it up' had become my battle cry.

"So, Mr. Wolf, are we finished here? I mean . . . do we understand each other?"

"If you're asking me whether I will abide by your deal, then yes. But understand each other? Not even close." He shook his head at me and arched his eyebrows in an exaggerated expression of disappointment. "And I really would appreciate it if you'd call me Morgan. Every time you say 'Mr. Wolf, this nasty image of my father pops into my head."

I was curious about the negative references to the senior Mr. Wolf. Both Richard and Morgan had given me a clear picture that they held the man in low regard. I squashed my interest. It was a bad time to get into a conversation about anything as intimate as his family relationships.

"Okay,
Morgan
." I loved the name and wished I didn't. It was different. Old-fashioned. Classy. Sexy. It was the kind of name that felt warm, round and tasty when I said it.

I headed for the elevator. To my relief he didn't stop me but I felt the sear of his eyes on my back. It made the few short steps I took seem like a mile. When I turned around to press the button he was leaning against the rail, corded arms crossed over his broad chest and a wistful trace of a smile on his face. The glass doors closed and our eyes stayed locked until I rose out of sight.

I was grateful for the sanctuary of my room behind the galley. I was even more grateful when I looked out the porthole and saw that the two naked girls were gone.

We'd been underway for almost three hours and the Atlantic was like glass. I didn't know how long it would take to get to Paradise Island. I hoped it would be soon. I wanted to get off the boat and take a walk. I needed a little time to think away from the aura of Morgan that filled every corner of El Lobo. In spite of the 'deal' we'd struck, part of me was still considering bailing on the job. Strangely, I found that I trusted him far more than I trusted myself. He did things to me that were hard to ignore.

When I opened my Facebook page, I saw that Rachel was on too. I suppose I could have called her, but there was no phone in my room. I didn't even know where the phone was on the boat or if it would be complicated to use it. I wanted to talk not type. But I settled.

Lara Lamb 
U there?

Rachel Caldwell
Smmmmoooocccchhh. I miss you already. WU?

Lara Lamb
Usual. Somebody shoot me.

Rachel Caldwell
Uh-oh. 411?

Lara Lamb
Long story. Got time?

Rachel Caldwell
Y.

Lara Lamb
Hot ass boss had 2 babes nekked on deck. Wuz outside my window. Caught me watching.

Rachel Caldwell
TF.

Lara Lamb
Not funny. Messed up. I escaped to the control room so I wouldn't have to watch.

Rachel Caldwell
LOL. Who forced you?

Lara Lamb
You had to be there.

Rachel Caldwell
I wish.

Lara Lamb
Perv. Anyway, he caught up with me L8R.  Teased me about it. Then he wanted to know what I thought of him.

Rachel Caldwell
Did you tell him you thought he was hawt?

Lara Lamb
MOF, I did. But I also ripped him a new a-hole for being a stuck on himself spoiled dick and a player.

Rachel Caldwell
RU insane?

Lara Lamb
I'm beginning to think so.

Rachel Caldwell
Did he fire you?

Lara Lamb
No, he kissed me.

Rachel Caldwell
WTF?????

Lara Lamb
Then I shoved him away. Hard. Threatened to quit. Threatened to sue him.

Rachel Caldwell
OMG. You really R insane.

Lara Lamb
It was a mess. He said I was giving him 'signals'. I swear, unless he's a mind reader I never gave any signals. It brought all that crap with Nathan back to my head.

Rachel Caldwell
Nathan was a creep. He practically raped you.

Lara Lamb
No, he just did what I thought I wanted him to do. It was my fault.

Rachel Caldwell
It was not your fault! No means no. It doesn't matter when you say it. Your 'fault' if you want to take the blame was staying with him afterwards.

Lara Lamb
UR right, as usual. Then I thought about Chef A-hole. All my bad choices. So I pushed him away. Told him I'd stay if he backed off.

Rachel Caldwell
But you hope he won't?

Lara Lamb
I'm confused.

Rachel Caldwell
Let me call the Miami Herald. That's a headline.

Lara Lamb
He said things that made me weak. Mushy all over.

Rachel Caldwell
What did he say?

Lara Lamb
He asked me if he could make me laugh, make me sigh. He asked me if he could make me beg him to do all the things a man can do to a woman.

Rachel Caldwell
. Oh. My. That's mush-worthy.

Lara Lamb
I really don't want to make a fool of myself. I don't want to be used. But there's something about him that's different. Like what I'm seeing isn't all there is.

Rachel Caldwell
Advice?

Lara Lamb
As usual. Shoot.

Rachel Caldwell
Play it cool. Don't mention any of it--the chicks, the pass--nothing. Do your job and see how things develop. You aren't afraid of him, are you? Like do you think he'd force himself on you?

Lara Lamb
No, a guy like him doesn't need to force anything. But I'm a little afraid of how interested I am in him.

Rachel Caldwell
Where's the harm in being interested? Just don't go all nutzoid. Most of the drama in your life takes place right between your ears.

Lara Lamb
My own worst enemy? Thanks, Mom.

Rachel Caldwell
Chill. Have fun. Enjoy your new job. Don't over think. Mountains & molehills, remember? Just fuggetaboutit.

Lara Lamb
You're right, as usual. When we dock, I'm going to take a long walk and enjoy the sunshine.

Rachel Caldwell
Good. You could use some rays.

Lara Lamb
TTYL.

Rachel Caldwell
LYL

Lara Lamb
Oh forgot. We're on our way to London
. 
LYLB

Rachel Caldwell
Way cool. TTYL

As usual, Rachel's low-key calm eased my nerves. She was right about the mountains and the molehills. My BFF had a way of making me put on my big girl pants and get on with things. I couldn't count the number of times she'd brought me back to reality when my imagination started working overtime.

I looked out the porthole and saw that Paradise Island wasn't far away. The sand colored buildings of the Atlantis Hotel rose from an impossibly crystalline ocean. Soon Richard was maneuvering El Lobo into a slip and we were docked.

I studied the resort and came to a quick conclusion that it was like a Disney World for adults. Everything was spotlessly clean and in perfect order. Very pretty in a man-made way. Growing up in the continuous urban sprawl that was Florida's Gold Coast had nurtured a longing in me to experience a more natural world.

Had I opted for college, I could have easily won an academic scholarship to any number of rural universities and satisfied my lust for the outdoors. As it was, my choice of culinary school meant finding the best alternative near home. There were occasional scholarships at culinary school but the few awarded went to underprivileged kids with restaurant experience not to solidly middle class geeks like me.

When I made the decision to try for a job on a boat one of the most appealing aspects was the promise of days at sea. As a child, turning east and knowing a vast ocean lay waiting there was a comforting thought. As dreary as the flat unbroken concrete of South Florida was, the ocean gave it an open side. I'd often wondered how much more stifling it would feel to live in a landlocked city.

Minutes after we docked I saw Morgan and his three guests walking toward the marina complex. A steward trailed behind them with the girls' bags. From the number of suitcases it looked like they intended to stay a while.

Morgan looked good with the ladies. Like he belonged with three lovelies surrounding him. His dark masculine looks made their fair beauty more appealing; their lithe bodies more feminine because they were gathered around his muscled frame.

I sighed and pulled my eyes away from the sight. Like all 'ordinary' looking chicks, I often wondered what it would be like to look so mouth-wateringly perfect.  What would it feel like to walk into a room and know that every set of eyes in the room was looking you over and giving you a '10'.

My brain has always been the only area where I felt the least bit above average. I'm pretty sure that I've never been as proud of my smarts as my parents were and thought I should be. In culinary school I worked real hard to hide that part of me. Aspiring chefs aren't the most intellectual bunch in the world. I learned to exchange 'fucking awesome' for words like 'exquisite' or 'ethereal' when I wanted to praise a worthy taste. I forced myself to join the others in butchering French culinary terms. I never admitted to knowing quite a bit about Escoffier and that I had actually read Zola's
Le Ventre de Paris.
My classmates' familiarity with
Les Halles,
if they had any, was limited to knowing it was Anthony Bourdain's famous shop in New York. It was nearly impossible for me to keep from cringing when someone said 'Less Halls'. It became second nature to me to dumb down my speech patterns and rough up my language.

A cook's world is still mostly a man's world. Morgan was absolutely right in expecting to have hired a different sort of female chef. Most of the women who occupied the female minority in my school were decidedly batting for the other team. I had almost as many passes made at me by women as by men.

I got to wondering about the two girls doing each other on deck. I'd never so much as kissed another girl on the lips. The two women seemed happy to share Morgan
and
each other. I felt naïve--unworldly--watching them. It was a fuckfest of pleasure. I wondered if he did that often. I knew having two girls was a big turn on for guys. I hadn't expected that watching it would be such a turn on for
me
.