Ocean of Fire (4 page)

“And try not to kill each other,” Trisha added.

“As long as he stays out of my way, I’m prepared to let him live. What the heck does he have against women on board anyway? What century does he think this is, the middle ages?”

“I have to admit I wasn’t particularly impressed with that comment either,” Trisha concurred.

As she turned to the yacht Gail came back up on deck. They traded places, Gail stepping on shore, Nicole climbing onto the boat.

“I still don’t understand why you want to go on this trip,” Gail said as she hugged her daughter. “Every time your father goes I worry. With you on board as well, I’m not going to get a wink of sleep until you’re all safely in Hobart... Go on then, go and be one of the boys.” As she released her, Nicole saw tears glistening in her eyes.

Ten minutes later they motored away from the marina, amidst cheers and whistles from those left behind. Even though Peter had ensured everything was organised beforehand, there were still last minute jobs to do, so everyone was kept busy as they headed for the starting line.

Folding back the propeller to decrease friction was one of those jobs. Anyone caught using their engines from now on would be disqualified. This meant someone had to take a swim in the harbour.

“If no one volunteers I’ll start pointing fingers,” Peter bellowed from his position at the wheel.

“OK, I’ll do it,” Philip decided.

“Good. That’ll make up for your tardiness.”

“Watch out for sharks,” Nicole said from beside her father.

Philip scowled down at her. “Just as well we’re on different shifts or I’ll–“

“Just get on with it, will you?” Peter growled, “And Nicole, there’s no need for smart remarks.”

“Sorry Dad.”

Philip proceeded to strip down to his swimming trunks, yanking off the white T-Shirt, and then stepping out of his shorts. Nicole tried to ignore him, but when she saw what a fantastic body he had, she couldn’t help but stare. He had powerful biceps, sculptured pectorals and a perfect six pack. A dark thatch of curling chest hair extended across his chest, and arrowed down his flat stomach to disappear into swimmers that left little to the imagination.

She should have known he’d have a great body to go with the striking face, but as he climbed over the side, she never imagined that the sight of him would make her insides contract with desire. She actually found herself wondering what that glistening olive skin would feel like beneath her fingers, whether the hair on his chest would be soft or course.

Luckily Steve brought an end to those unwelcome thoughts when he sat down on her other side. He pointed to the Navy destroyer which in a very short time would fire the starting gun. Listening to Steve, she barely noticed the slick wet pirate climb back on board, until he dripped on her.

“Anyone got a towel?” he asked, squeezing water from his wet ponytail. Nicole ducked out of the way just in time, and hurried below. She’d get him his towel if it meant he got out of her sight and stopped raining on her. Jim handed her one as she stuck her head through the entrance way.

“Thanks,” she muttered. Turning around she tossed it at Philip. Then she sat down near the entrance, well away from him, and focussed her attention on the harbour, which was alive with coloured sails and spinnakers. Following the yachts at a safe distance were spectator and pleasure craft. Overhead whirred helicopters from various media stations. Watching the activity around her Nicole felt the first lift of elation. This was what she’d been wanting to be part of, the yacht race most of the country watched every Boxing Day.

The start gun went off with a thunderous roar, but the yachts were off to slow start due to the lack of wind on the harbour. It took close to an hour to reach The Heads, as they concentrated on tacking to avoid collisions with the other contenders or the numerous speedboats accompanying the fleet. It wasn’t until they reached the seaward mark that the yachts started to spread out and the spectator craft returned home.

The race had truly begun. Nicole watched the shoreline slipping away behind them to merge with the horizon and disappear altogether. Now it was just them, the yacht and the ocean.

“How about some afternoon tea, Nicole,” her father suggested. “And then I want you and everyone else on first watch to get some rest.”

Half an hour later she curled up on her bunk and dragged her sleeping bag over her. Not used to sleeping in the middle of the day, let alone on a constantly pitching vessel, she remained awake, and despite her determination not to give him another thought, started thinking about Philip Pelayo’s sexy body.

She couldn’t understand why looking at someone she didn’t even like could get her so hot under the collar. Nicole had thought only such an intense reaction could arise between people who cared about one another. It was also obvious he knew how hot he was, which he’d played on it with his little strip tease. But then to deliberately drip all over her! That just proved what a complete and utter Neanderthal he was.

Up on deck Philip watched the sunset from his position at the bow. They were following a good tailwind and there wasn’t anything to do except relax and think. He didn’t particularly feel like talking to anyone right now which is why he’d chosen this spot. Most of the crew were still aft and drinking beer, not a good idea if one wanted to have a clear head should things get rough. But since this wasn’t his yacht, he kept his opinion to himself.

Peter Cameron might have sailed in this race before, but Philip was starting to wonder if he really knew what he was doing. Letting that dainty daughter of his join them in this gruelling race was a really bad idea. Philip supposed she’d browbeaten him into it, since Robert had mentioned she enjoyed sailing as much as he did. At least they were on different watches. He didn’t think he could bear having her so close and not being able to do anything about it.

He smiled to himself as he remembered the way she’d looked up at him when he’d taken off his clothes. There had been no mistaking that misty look in her eyes. She’d liked what she’d seen. But then he had to get her attention again by dripping on her. Really a bit childish, but after her comment about the sharks, he’d just wanted to get back at her. She looked so infuriatingly cute in her oversized yacht uniform with her wayward red curls escaping her ponytail.

So cute, but with such a bitter tongue.

Not his type at all. But then he didn’t really have a type. He didn’t even feel like taking her friend Trisha out again. That had been happening to him a lot lately. One date, and he just didn’t want to see the woman again, when he had once been able to keep relationships going for weeks, until it became obvious she wanted more from him than he was able to give, like love and marriage. So why did he suddenly find himself so attracted to Nicole Cameron? It wasn’t as though he hadn’t taken out girls with even richer daddies.

At first it had been to prove the point that passion could transcend the cultural and financial divide. But Philip was past proving a point. He even seemed to be past caring. So why the hell should he care that Nicole Cameron couldn’t stand him?

The old adage about the calm before the storm couldn’t be more apt, Nicole thought with a shudder as she gazed southwards. Weather reports had been forecasting gale force winds across Bass Strait, and they were sailing straight into them.

They had been at sea for two days, and Nicole was trying to hide that she was seasick. Since she’d never experienced it before, she couldn’t understand why it should plague her now. She’d stopped eating, as nausea assaulted her the moment a morsel of food passed her lips. Luckily nobody seemed to have noticed.

Her father was too intent on making time, and so far she’d managed to keep out of Philip’s way. The only time she saw him was when they exchanged watches or when she was serving up food. Maybe he wasn’t feeling too good either, the only reason she could think of as to why he wasn’t giving her a hard time over something.

She was dreading the impending storm. It would be cold and miserable, and she’d have to take her turn on deck like everyone else, not that she wanted to spend so much time below anyhow.

They were somewhere in the middle of the fleet, but Peter wanted to secure a position in their division, so a southerly buster was the last thing they wanted or needed.

It was time to change watch. Gratefully, Nicole headed below. For the first time since coming on board she fell asleep almost the moment she lay her head on the pillow.

The next time she woke the storm had struck. She could feel the yacht ride each wave and then launch off it to surf the next one. It was like being on a never ending roller coaster. Nicole really didn’t want to get out of her warm bunk, but when several drenched men entered the galley, she coaxed uncooperative limbs into action. They would want hot drinks and something to line their stomachs.

Once they had eaten and were getting ready for bed, Steve stuck his head through the hatch. “You’re needed up on deck now, Nicole.”

“I’m coming. Just let me rug up.” She felt the chill of the howling wind even down here. Nicole pulled on another pair of track pants over her leggings and shrugged into her parka. She also donned a beanie and gloves. She was rugged up like an Eskimo, but that was the nature of the southern waters, even in the middle of summer.

As she stepped out through the hatch she barrelled straight into a solid wall of male chest. She had an apology ready until she saw who it belonged to.

“What the devil are you doing out here?” Philip demanded, glancing angrily down at her.

“What does it look like? Taking my watch, so you’ll have to help yourself in the galley, because I’m needed up here.” She made to sidle past him, but he took hold of her arm. Icy needles of rain stung her face as she tried to wrench herself free. Damn, she thought, he even looks handsome with his hair dripping about his face and a five o’clock shadow roughening his jaw.

Steve stuck his head around the side of the cabin. “What’s the problem?”

“Who told Nicole to come topside?” Philip asked him.

“The skipper asked me to get her,” Steve replied.

“Well he’s a bigger fool than I thought. Go below, Nicole. I’ll do your watch,” Philip told her.

“No you won’t. Dad told me to come up and he’s the captain, not you,” she glared back up at him. “So
you
go below.”

For a moment he returned her angry glare and then let go of her arm. He brushed past her without another word. The yacht lurched, and Nicole had to grab hold of the cabin to steady herself.

“I’m coming up now,” she called out to Steve as she bent to retrieve the harness Philip had left under the bench. Once she had attached herself to the jackstay she joined him on top of the cabin.

“What was the problem?” Steve asked once Nicole sat beside him.

“Oh, Philip just seems to think I’m too much of a puny little female to handle the pace.”

Steve snorted. “You’ve got more balls than half the blokes on this boat.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. Would you mind repeating that in his presence?”

“If you want me to I will. Wish I could get my Belinda to join me for the odd sail, but she’s scared to even step on a boat let alone take a cruise on the harbour.”

“But you love her anyway.”

“Yes I do.”

Nicole couldn’t help wondering just what that kind of love felt like, but it would probably be years, if ever, that she’d have the opportunity of finding out.

She wasn’t given any more time to think about it as her father called out to them to change direction. Nicole concentrated on helping Steve with the ropes, ensuring they didn’t get tangled while he and the men up front turned the winches that shifted the boom about.

A short while later they put a reef in the mainsail because the yacht was pitching and rolling so much. Nicole was sure she would have thrown up had she anything in her stomach.

The icy bite of the rain and the chill of the howling wind soon set her teeth chattering. Despite her protective clothing, she had no way of warming herself and couldn’t stop shivering.

Watching the huge waves looming over the yacht, lashing their icy spray over her, Nicole became aware of how completely at the mercy of the forces of nature they were. She knew she was securely strapped onto the jackstay, but for some reason all rational thought seemed to have deserted her. She now felt as terrified of the ocean as Steve had said his girlfriend would be. Cold, start terror lodged in her heart. Those tall cliff faces of water were quite capable of capsizing the yacht, dumping them all into the dark depths of the ocean.

Surely it wasn’t right to be so cold. What time is it? she wondered. Nicole was too exhausted to even look at her watch. She craved the warmth of her sleeping bag so much it was almost unbearable.