Hurricane Page 3

  Peri was Rydell’s younger sister, and Callie had been married to Ry’s brother. Adam had died of leukemia before Addison had met any of them. Ry was very close to both women, and considered Callie family. Another sister. Addison loved both of them, and the rift, on top of everything else, had broken her heart even further.

  As usual, Peri’s message box was too full for her to leave a message. Addison tried Callie next. At least she’d been able to leave a message for her.

  Until she spoke to either of her friends—or Rydell told her what was really going on—she’d have to play it by ear.

  Just as she was about to return the phone to her purse, it rang. Addison jumped as if she’d been goosed. Crap. It wasn’t a ranting Rydell, but rather the absolutely second-to-last person she wanted to talk to. The opening ominous tones of Ozzy Osborne’s “Mr. Crowley” warned her that it was her mother calling. “I Hate Everything About You” by Three Days Grace indicated a call from her ex.

  Not that he’d bothered to ring her in the past year and one damn month. Not once.

  Addison hit ANSWER, even though she’d rather throw the damn phone hard against a wall. “Hello, Hollis.” Because her mother had the nose of a bloodhound for anything she could use to her advantage, Addison modulated her tone. “You’re up and about bright and early.”

  “I just got in from the Rothman gala.”

  At eight in the morning? God, Addison thought with part humor, part dread. She hoped her mother hadn’t latched onto husband number six. She was not a woman who liked her own company. It was parties, galas, and rich men’s beds. And of course clothes. The only thing they had in common.

  “The prince tells me the ship is no longer docked in Cannes,” Hollis accused petulantly. Her Minnesota accent had been obliterated several husbands ago in exchange for a pseudo-European accent that was part British, part French, and wholly fake.

  “Where did you see Naveen?” He’d only left her five hours earlier. That must’ve been the call she’d missed after Rydell had left her cabin in the early hours.

  One problematic male at a time.

  “He came to the gala after he dropped you off. Where have you hared off to now, Addison? I really don’t have the emotional wherewithal to deal with you gallivanting around before breakfast. I’ll be joining you in a week, and whatever you’re doing, I could enjoy doing with you if you’d just consider my fragility and my needs for a change.”

  The count had tossed her mother aside and married a young American heiress the week before. That said, Hollis was the least fragile person Addison had ever met. She wasn’t hurt, just furious that she wasn’t a countess, and tweaked that she’d been pushed aside by someone younger. A title was her mother’s brass ring. Which was why she was so desperate for Addison to marry Naveen.

  “I’m just doing a quick trip to that little shop in Genoa with those exquisite velvet gowns I told you about. I’ll be leaving in a few hours, Mother.” More or less. Depending on how long it takes for Rydell to find me. “You can come here another time.”

  “The Italian Riviera! Addison, how could you go to the best shopping destination in Liguria without me? Typically selfish. I’ll have the prince bring me when he joins you.” It wasn’t a question. Her friend and her mother were tight as thieves. Addison wasn’t looking forward to that conversation, either. Naveen was joining her for the trip to Sydney. Her mother had invited herself along for the last voyage on the Tesoro Mio before the ship was sold.

  “I won’t be here.”

  A heavy pause. “Then when will you be back in Cannes?” her mother demanded, not keeping the testiness from her voice. “Babette has me almost packed, and I must tell you, Addison, selling that lovely ship is a foolish mistake. If that man is paying the bills as penance, I say let him do so. He can certainly afford it.”

  She and her mother had circled this drain so many times, Addison didn’t even have to listen to respond. “I don’t care whether Rydell can afford it or not, Mother. It’s ridiculous for a single woman to live on a hundred-and-sixty-foot megayacht unless she’s a rock star, which I’m not. I don’t need so much space, I don’t want a full crew tending to just me, and it’s becoming an albatross around my neck.” And I only insisted I got it in the divorce because I knew it would kill Rydell to lose his dream ship.

  “You’re still welcome to come, but stop insisting I not sell. Naveen’s arranged everything, and I’m grateful to get out from under the weight of owning and running what’s basically a floating hotel. I just want a nice condo centrally located—Milan, perhaps.”

  “Be sensible and marry Naveen. He’s a prince, for God’s sake! Lord only knows, the man adores you, and he has a healthier bank account than that uncouth sailor you were smart enough to jettison. You’ve kept him on ice long enough, Addison. If you don’t say yes, he’ll find someone else. You’re not getting any younger, you know.”

  Rydell was a sailor, Addison supposed, but he wasn’t uncouth. Or not very. “I’m twenty-seven, Mother, not seventy-two. Naveen and I are just friends now. Not even friends with benefits. Platonic buddies.” More than Mother needs to know. “Look, I’ll call you to see where we can meet. There’s been a slight change of plans, and we’re heading to the Maldives, before going on to Sydney.” She figured there was plenty of time for her mother to find out Rydell had decided to play pirate for real and commandeered the ship.

  “I’ve done the Maldives,” her mother said tartly. “I was there with the Archambeaus after my divorce, remember?”

  Which one? “No problem. Then you can join me in Sydney if you like.”

  “I want a cruise, Addison. I’m completely shattered by that nonsense I had to endure while visiting the Fouseks. I need rest and relaxation, I need to feel safe, for God’s sake! I need fun. Wait for me in Genoa. I’ll meet you there, and we’ll go on together. I’m utterly bored with Paris, and I don’t want to join the Davenports in the Caribbean. They offered to send the jet, which has the most uncomfortable seats, and I swear, they don’t keep the caviar chilled properly. I’d much rather be there with you and Naveen, darling.”

  Lucky Naveen and Addison.

  Her mother hadn’t been married and divorced five times because she didn’t know how to get exactly what she wanted. If Addison hadn’t put both feet down when she was fifteen, she’d have the tire tracks all over her back from her mother’s riding roughshod all over her.

  “You’re welcome to come here,” she said coolly, looking out over the almost empty square as the sun slid across the far-corner cobbles in an interesting golden triangle. “But I’ll be gone. We stop at Mangalore, if you want to meet the ship there.”

  Please don’t. Having Rydell on board was about all she could handle right now. “But honestly, Hollis, instead of leisurely as we planned, this trip is going to be fast. There won’t be any time for shopping excursions and sightseeing. Go ahead and join the Davenports, and have fun. Why don’t we go on a commercial cruise when I get back from Australia?”

  “Mangalore, India?” Her mother went straight to the meat. “Addison, what on earth is going on?”

  Hollis hadn’t taken the hint, and had skipped the irrelevant parts. “I have to go, Mother. I’ll keep you appri—” Addison’s eyes clashed with those of the man striding across the piazza.

  Rydell.

  Three

  Long legs closed the distance in no time flat. Dark hair fluttered in his movement, creating a false softness around his face—which was all harsh planes and angles in the early-morning light.

  Hollis was still talking as Addison disconnected the call, then dropped the phone into her purse, which hung on the back of her chair. Recrossing her legs, she picked up her cup. She’d given Captain Seddeth the order to put into Genoa just after dawn, just to piss off her ex, and by his expression she’d done just that. Taking a sip of her now cold coffee, she signaled the hovering waiter as Rydell cast a long shadow over the table.

  Addison lowered the cup to look up at him. “Y
ou’re up early,” she said dulcetly, repeating what she’d said to Hollis. Earlier than she’d expected, since he’d been up when she’d returned at three a.m., and she’d seen the light in his cabin reflecting on the water until the sun came up.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She raised a brow. “Drinking a cappuccino before the shops open.”

  She couldn’t see his eyes, but his jaw was tight. He needed a shave and a damn haircut, but he was still the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on. It was so much easier to hate him when she wasn’t sitting three feet away from his crotch. The jeans weren’t that tight, but they cupped his package like a loving hand. Her heartbeat kicked up several notches. Forcing her gaze to travel up his body, she glanced at her watch. “It’ll be about an hour.”

  “There isn’t time for shopping, Addy. I have divers to pick up.”

  His sunglasses hid his emotions, but Addison saw herself reflected there and was proud of her cool demeanor. She’d left her hair loose around her shoulders, dressed with care in a deceptively simple sleeveless white sheath. “You know I hate being rushed, unless there’s a good sale on.” She sounded exactly like her mother, which gave her pause. Is that what Rydell had reduced her to? Sounding and behaving like Hollis English-D’Marco-Payne-Smithe-Belcourt-Moubray?

  “Woman—”

  “I’ll be back after lunch … ish.” She waved him away, then smiled at the waiter delivering a fresh cup of frothy cappuccino. “Grazie.”

  “Not a problem. You just stay right here, sipping coffee, and enjoy the shopping. When I get back to Tesoro Mio we set sail. With or without you. Makes no difference to me if you’re on board or not.” He turned on his heel, then paused and turned turn around. “Preferably not.”

  * * *

  A lie.

  Ry cared, damn it. Cared too much, which scared the living crap out of him. It wasn’t good to want anything as bad as he wanted … all of this.

  For a year he’d existed in a bubble of pained indifference.

  Indifference didn’t rip out your heart. Indifference didn’t kill you like an insidious poison. For a year he’d been little more than a zombie. Going through the motions with nothing penetrating the dark cloud he’d lugged around like a fucking leaden cloak.

  Coming back to life was as painful and unpleasant as a limb falling asleep that you didn’t miss until you tried to move it, and then the pain shot through your body in lacerating sharp stings.

  World suspended, heartbeat painfully slow, he waited. His entire world hanging on Addy’s next action.

  It was no idle threat. Any delay here was a delay he couldn’t afford when they reached the Maldives. But just as urgent as his need to scoop up that silver and take care of his business problems was the need to resolve the bitterness between himself and this woman who could bring him back to life with a mere touch of her hand and a smile.

  He ached just looking at her. Her bare skin glowed with a healthy, light tan, set off by the plain white dress and a soft, black wool wrap thing. Gold hoops glittered amid the glossy strands of her marmalade-colored hair, which draped around her shoulders like a cape of finest Chinese silk. All the ornament she needed. A wide, pagan-looking beaten-gold bracelet cuffed each slender wrist.

  In counterpoint to his internal angst, she looked cool, calm, unutterably beautiful, and completely indifferent. An ancient goddess, completely unattainable and dispassionate as stone.

  He missed her fiery temper. Missed the fights and the making up. Missed the physical contact. Missed—God—he missed her. He should be used to feeling like the exposed nerve of a broken tooth. But he wanted to feel joy again, wanted to feel love, wanted to be loved. He craved light instead of this perpetual darkness. “Well?”

  “Don’t be so damn impatient.” She set down her cup. “A few hours won’t kill you, Rydell.”

  A little heat? Progress. Perhaps. “Last chance, Addy.” His voice was hard and glacial. The numbing protections he’d erected were melting just by being this close to her—like a glacier against a supernova. Fuckit. He hated coming back to life. And clearly, she didn’t give a damn if he dropped dead where he stood. He shrugged one shoulder, half turning away. “So be it. I’ll have Oscar pack some of your things and leave them. Where would you like?”

  “In my cabin.” She got to her feet. The scent of sultry summer afternoons in her perfume, heated by her skin, made him dizzy. “Nobody is touching my things,” she informed him, queen to serf, as she swathed the black wrap around her shoulders against the morning chill, then slung the straps of her handbag over one shoulder. “I’m not allowing you to steal my ship from under me. If you’re on board, I’ll be on board.”

  Ry almost dropped to his knees in relief. Instead he shoved on his sunglasses and said flatly, “Your call. Get a move on, we’re wasting fuel. I’ve already got approval from the Suez Canal Authority, and the security team will meet us in Port Said this evening. The convoy leaves at five tomorrow morning. We’ll be part of it.”

  “You bribed them.”

  Of course. “I did what had to be done.” His life had already been a goatfuck; adding pirates to the mix had certainly made it that much more interesting. And now, as if the already ticking clock wasn’t enough, he’d had to scramble to rearrange schedules and paperwork to accommodate the earlier departure. Everywhere he looked the window of opportunity was slamming shut. Karma was a raging bitch.

  He tossed a handful of euros on the table, then turned and started walking back the way he’d come. People were starting to cross the piazza on their way to work in little shops and restaurants lining the square. A dog barked a series of happy, excited yips. Talking with their hands, two elderly women shouted insults companionably as they carried limp shopping bags on the way to the market around the corner. The bells from Basilica San Siro and Duomo di San Lorenzo each rang nine times in perfect sync. Sunlight cut a wider swath across the cobblestones as it rose to warm the shadowy alleys feeding into the piazza.

  Ry’s heart muted the sounds. Every atom in his body listened for the only sound that mattered: Addy’s heels clicking across the cobblestones behind him. He kept walking, not slowing his pace when he didn’t hear her.

  Addy didn’t do ultimatums. Fuck. Neither of them did.

  But he would not look back.

  He was halfway across the square when she caught up with him. He almost sagged with relief. She could run a marathon in those heels. “Keep out of my way, Rydell. I mean it. There’s no need for us to even see each other, let alone communicate.”

  “You’re going to take all your meals in your cabin?” he asked as she fell into step beside him, her long legs matching his strides. “Awkward.”

  “You can just tell the others I have a deadline.”

  “I’m not your message boy, Addy. Tell the dive team yourself when they board. If you don’t want to socialize with anyone, say the word. Though why you wouldn’t when they’re your friends, too, is ridiculous.”

  “They saw me at the worst moment in my life. I never want to see them again. Ever.”

  This dive team had seen him at the worst moment in his life, too. And as much of a dick as he’d been to them, he was grateful for their friendship and support when he’d finally emerged back into the world.

  “Maybe they need closure—”

  Olive-green eyes narrowed to slits, Addy whirled on him like a feral cat. “They need closure?” She stopped dead in the narrow alley. “Ask me if I give a flying fuck that they need closure! You’re putting me in an untenable position. Stay the hell out of my way, Rydell. Do it, or I’ll figure out a way to toss you overboard in the dead of night. No one would blame me.”

  “It might be a fucking relief.” The black-clad grandmothers who’d been arguing gave them a wide berth, and the evil eye for their bad language.

  “So you’re back with the prince,” he said apropos of nothing, except that last night was stuck in a loop in his brain. “Hollis must be—”
A strand of her hair fluttered in the breeze to tangle in the stubble on his jaw. It slipped free as she moved, but Ry still felt it there. A taunt. A visceral memory. A silken, binding tie. “—thrilled,” he finished.

  “My mother likes the idea of a title for me.”

  Yeah, he was well aware. “She’d be better off wanting happiness for you.”

  “I’m happy with Naveen.”

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  “Absolutely not. Why would you say that? We’re going to Australia together.”

  “Why didn’t he stay last night?”

  “Because I didn’t ask him to. We’ll be spending the next month together. He had things to do.”

  “So he wouldn’t have stayed even if you’d invited him in?”

  “Don’t twist my words. Naveen had business to attend to.”

  “What kind of business does a wealthy playboy have? Count his money then ride his polo pony before the ball?”

  Addy gave him a fulminating glance. “Naveen has absolutely nothing to do with you. Stay the hell out of my affairs, and I’ll stay out of yours.”

  Ry had met Addy three and a half years ago in Cape Town when the prince had been interested in investing in one of his dives. That investment never happened, but six weeks later Addy had called him. The rest was history. “Were you still sleeping with him after we were married?”

  She spun on him so fast he couldn’t dodge the flat of her hand as she slapped him. It didn’t hurt. Not physically anyway.

  “Stay here,” she said through clenched teeth. “Give me a ten-minute head start. I can’t bear the sight of you.”

  She was going back to the ship.

  It was a start.

  He felt like an ant pushing a fucking boulder up Mount Everest as he watched Addy stalk away with long, sure strides across the uneven ground. Even in high heels she was sure-footed, walking as though she floated an inch off the ground on a fashion runway.

  Three suited men turned to look. Rydell didn’t blame them.