I want You Deeper

Dinner was far better than breakfast.

Not that the inn had to work all that much harder to top oatmeal and fruit. But everything was perfect, from the crispy skin on the roasted duck to the creaminess and seasoning of the mashed potatoes.

“Just the right amount of crispness,” Renee said after she took a bite of the asparagus.

Derek watched her as she enjoyed the meal that had been set in front of each of them. They were sharing a table in a big, empty dining room. She was trying to ignore the fact that it suspiciously felt like a date.

But Renee had a secret. More than one.

Before he’d shown up, surprising her on her balcony, she’d been on her phone. The intention had been to read her paperback book, but she’d ended up researching him instead. Right before he’d disappeared, her very own network had named him Silicon Valley’s Most Eligible Bachelor, and Renee was horrified to realize she’d been a part of it.

There had been a meeting where they’d thrown out ideas, and her idea had been to cover the wealthiest bachelors in town. She didn’t remember even hearing Derek’s name mentioned, but she did remember another billionaire she interviewed, Jeremy Owens, mentioning him when she’d considered doing a story on Jeremy. She’d never given Derek another thought. The same went for the wealthiest bachelor story, which was assigned to one of her colleagues. Renee had grabbed a piece on local politics-a topic she found much meatier and more likely to advance her career-and all had been forgotten until earlier that day when she’d pulled up the wealthiest bachelor story online.

The bachelor piece had been a doozy, exposing the fact that he had a girlfriend named Nancy who was a socialite and that he had been handed his money after his mega rich grandfather’s death. It led her to wonder if the puff piece had prompted him to go on the run in his little sailboat. It made sense he’d retreat to the water, considering watercraft was how he’d made his billions.

“How would you do this differently?”

Derek’s question made her abruptly stop chewing to stare at him. He was assessing her, yes. But now she realized he was assessing her to determine whether she was the right person to be his friend’s chef. At least, she assumed it was a friend. Maybe it was his own yacht. In fact, a yacht would be the perfect place to hide out.

“The meal?” she asked, knowing that was precisely what he’d meant. It was a stalling tactic.

“Yes. If you were making this for a crew on a yacht, how would you do things differently?”

“I’ve never served in that kind of capacity.”

She wasn’t exaggerating there. She’d worked as a line cook in a restaurant for her entire time in college. It paid well and she loved it. But at the same time, she’d been working toward her degree in broadcast journalism, which meant logging hours at the campus TV station so she’d have a reel to help her land a job after graduation. She knew enough about cooking to know there was a big difference between a line cook and a chef in a restaurant like this.

Although on a yacht, while cooking for a large crew, probably not as different.

She decided to wing it. “But it depends. Does the crew get a gourmet meal like this? I would think in the case of a yacht situation, the crew might not get the same food.”

“Everyone will eat the same, but breakfast and lunch can be simple. Maybe salads, sandwiches for lunch.”

She smiled at him. “Oatmeal for breakfast? Oh, wait. Maybe eggs Benedict.”

He wasn’t smiling, though. “What makes you think your employer likes eggs Benedict?”

It had been a joke, but obviously, she’d touched on a sore subject. She searched for a reason he might be sensitive about his own breakfast preference. Was it well-known that Derek Hughes liked eggs Benedict and she’d reminded him she knew a little too much about him? Maybe it wasn’t his own yacht, and he was afraid she’d hop on a yacht with his friend, then put two and two together. At that point, she might call the coast guard to go track him down on his own boat.

Not that her phone would work out in the middle of the ocean, anyway.

“We have company,” he said, nodding his head as he looked at something behind her.

Seconds later, a familiar female voice chirped loudly behind them.

“Hey, you guys. Thank you so much for the invitation.”

Renee turned, and sure enough, their server from that morning was breezing toward them. Instead of work clothes, though, she wore a pantsuit and her hair in some sort of updo. She looked like she was going on a job interview.

“April?” Renee asked. What was happening here? Why would April think they had invited her to join them?

“I thought April might like to enjoy dinner as a guest for a change.”

Derek smiled at her. “Please, have a seat. They’ll bring you a plate shortly.”

“Sorry I’m late.” April cast an apologetic glance in Renee’s direction. “I live about twenty minutes away. I know it doesn’t seem like this island could possibly have a twenty-minute drive on it.”

April laughed. Renee figured she’d heard comments about her twentyminute drive from other guests, but twenty minutes was a perfectly reasonable drive on this island. Maybe some of those people had never visited an island before.

“April is interested in one of the crew positions on the yacht I was telling you about.”

Derek was looking at Renee now, and she realized April was, too. This was directed at her, whatever was going on here. She was the one person who was out of the loop.

“Cooking?” Renee asked.This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org: ©.

“More a steward type of position,” Derek said. “There will be more people hired soon, but the goal is to get to Hawaii first.”

What was the rush? Whoever owned the yacht obviously planned to spend two weeks on the water getting there. Seemed that person could wait around until a full crew was hired.

“It will be so exciting,” April gushed. She had to wait for the server, who stopped to chitchat with her for a few seconds after setting her plate in front of her, to go back to the kitchen. Finally, he did, and she continued.

“The four of us traveling to Hawaii. I can’t imagine-”

“The four of us?” Renee looked from April to Derek. What four? The way she said that, it sounded like…

“I’m the fourth person,” Derek admitted. “It would be you two, the captain, and me. I would like to hire both of you to join me as the first two members of my crew. At least for the first leg of my trip. After that, we can decide if it’s the right fit to move forward.”

Wait…so was Derek outing himself as a billionaire here? A billionaire with a fake name? There weren’t that many billionaires in the world, so it wasn’t like April couldn’t piece it together with a simple web search if she wanted.

“I work for the company that built the yacht,” Derek explained. “I’m their executive salesperson. My job is to take the yacht around to various places so that prospective buyers can tour it, then fly back to get another yacht if it sells.”

“I’m just worried that it might not work out,” April said, biting her lip. “If I’m going to quit my job here…”

Derek took the last bite of his food and set his fork down. “I’ll tell you what,” he said after he’d swallowed. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll get you another job on the island if you can’t get this one back. I’ll even talk to your boss for you if you’d like. I have a way with words. I’m a salesperson, after all.”

A salesperson who owned a yacht? Was April buying this?

Apparently, she was. She was smiling as she loaded her fork with potatoes and slid it into her mouth.

“I know neither of you knows me, but I can assure you you’re in safe hands.” He leaned back in his chair, looking down at the table. The guy just oozed “billionaire.” April had to see that. “I do expect you to be reliable and good at what you do. That’s it.”

Yeah, well, considering her entire experience as a gourmet chef was practicing various dishes in her own kitchen, Renee couldn’t promise that.

But who said she wanted to anyway?

“Imagine,” April said between bites. “Hawaii! He’s paying for us to stay for two whole days once we’re there. I’ve always wanted to see Hawaii.”

There wasn’t much April could have said that would have convinced her more than those words. She’d dreamed of visiting Hawaii since she was a little girl, looking at her grandmother’s vacation photos. She wanted to wear a lei and attend a luau and eat roasted pig. She wanted to fly over volcanos in a helicopter and live.

And this might be the only time in her life she could do something like that. Once she returned home, she’d have to start looking for work-not chef work but broadcasting work. She’d end up in no telling what city and state, on-call twenty-four-seven, afraid to take a vacation in case the station decided it wanted to “go in a different direction” while she was gone.

“Exactly what would the job entail?” Renee asked. “Where would we sleep? Is it like on TV where we’re in bunks down below?”

“Yes, there are bunks, but you’re the first two, so you’d get your own room. Once I hire some deckhands, you two might need to consolidate, especially if it’s a male-female situation. Don’t worry. The door between locks.”

Renee frowned. This felt very formal. Like she’d somehow found herself offered a job on a cruise ship or something. How had she gone from trying to enjoy a few days at her favorite inn to considering a job on a ship headed for Hawaii?

But this wasn’t about the job. It was about spending time in Derek’s company. On a yacht in the middle of the ocean, she’d have chances to get to know him and grab information for her story.

How could she possibly turn the opportunity down?

They said their goodbyes, and she headed back to her room, already realizing she wouldn’t be getting nearly enough sleep that night. She had work to do, and once she climbed on that boat, she was pretty sure her phone would stop getting a signal at some point. That meant any work she needed to do to make sure her story would be bought needed to be done now.

Within minutes of settling into her room, she had the information she needed to email her dream publication. She’d done some print journalism work in college, but the goal of this article wasn’t to land a job writing for a publication. She planned to use this to get national attention, then leverage it into a reporting gig at a local station in a smaller market than the one she’d been hustling at for the past two years. At a smaller station, she could be a bigger fish, boosting the chances she could get those big stories that would help her move up, up, up in her career.

She worked on the story pitch for nearly twenty minutes, fired it off, and looked for a few backup publications, pitching those, as well. The goal was to have messages of interest waiting in her inbox as soon as she had Wi-Fi again. She didn’t expect the ping that told her she had a response a half an hour after seeing the first email.

It was her dream publication. They were interested in the story, but only if she could have it soon. She just hoped two weeks would be soon enough.