One Night Of Love. Sally Wentworth
might find it with the cargo already taken.’
‘You paint a grim prospect,’ Oliver said wryly.
‘It might not be that bad. It rather depends on the pop star’s intelligence and the crew’s loyalty. If he kept on the captain and crew, is employing them on another boat, then everything will probably be fine. But it might be worth checking on that point.’
‘I’ll see to it,’ Oliver said decisively.
She straightened up and found herself very close to him. His aftershave, fresh and tangy, filled her senses. For a moment she drank it in, but then their bare arms touched, and it so disturbed her that Dyan quickly moved away. She went to roll up the chart, but Oliver said, ‘Just a moment. You had a rough idea of where we were heading so why did you start the voyage at Nassau and not somewhere nearer?’
‘Because it was easier to equip the boat there. Because it gives us more time to see if we’re being followed. Because we had to pick up the new submersible there. Because——’
Oliver held up a hand and gave her one of his transfiguring smiles. ‘I think I get the message. Sorry I asked.’
Dyan smiled in return. ‘Not at all. As the hirer you have the right to ask any questions you want.’
‘I have?’ His grey eyes met hers. ‘Then tell me: what is a nice girl like you doing in a job like this?’
She gave a gurgle of amused laughter. ‘That’s a long story.’ There was a knock on the door as the crewman returned. Quickly she rolled up the chart and stowed it with the others. ‘OK, Ed,’ she called out.
The sailor came in and took his seat at the radar screen. Dyan indicated the office and said to Oliver, ‘I’ll leave you to make your call.’
She went up on deck, to the area which the crew used to relax and sunbathe. Most of them sprawled out on the deck itself, lying or sitting on towels as they sunbathed or played cards. Dyan, though, merited one of the deckchairs and she stretched out on it with a magazine.
Russ saw her from the bridge and came down to join her, a couple of cans of beer in his hands. He gave her one and said, ‘Where’s the landlubber?’
‘Phoning London. Checking on the captain of the boat we’re looking for.’
He nodded. ‘What do you think of this guy?’
‘Too early to tell,’ Dyan said off-handedly. She remembered her earlier flare of emotion, and wasn’t at all sure that she wanted to discuss Oliver, but Russ obviously did, so she said, ‘How does he strike you?’
‘Different from the ones we usually get. Not standoffish, but he doesn’t immediately try to be one of the guys, same as some of them do. I think he’ll be OK.’
Russ wasn’t a talkative man. Close to fifty, he was an American who had spent most of his life at sea, and loved it. Dyan had never seen him panic whatever the weather, probably because he had a great respect for the ocean and its sudden, dangerous changeability. And he was never irritated by the days of sailing up and down, searching the sea-bed, or dismayed by the orders she gave him to take the boat into tricky positions: close to barrier reefs or near to cliffs that towered over them. He was a seaman through and through. And a good judge of men; if he said that Oliver was OK, then that meant a great deal.
Leaning back, companionably drinking her beer from the can, Dyan wasn’t at all sure of her own opinion on Oliver. Her hopes about him had been raised too high to start with, then dashed too low. But that had been mainly her own fault, she realised. It had been a mistake to be so pleased at the thought of finding an unprejudiced man; if she’d been more wary, then she wouldn’t have been so disappointed to find that he was just as chauvinistic as the next man. So, she thought pensively, maybe it would be a good idea to look at him afresh. Start again from the beginning, so to speak. Taking a sip of drink, she pictured Oliver in her mind, remembering her surprise at his comparative youth and good looks when she first saw him. And she smiled to herself as she recalled how it had been important to find out whether or not he was married. Not that she particularly believed in marriage; she’d been disillusioned about that in the past, but she had to admit she’d been glad when Oliver had made it quite clear that he was unattached.
‘You’re smiling wider than a Cheshire cat,’ Russ remarked mockingly. ‘What are you thinking about?’
‘My next leave,’ she told him, knowing him well enough to be pert.
But he wasn’t deceived. ‘Watch your step with this guy,’ he cautioned. ‘Remember the last time.’
The glow faded from her face. ‘You don’t have to remind me,’ she said shortly.
Putting a hand on her knee, Russ leaned forward to look into her face. ‘I just don’t want to see you hurt again. Are you over that bum?’
She nodded. ‘It was nearly a year ago.’
‘Good.’ Russ waved an admonitory finger at her. ‘But you be careful. You know how susceptible you are to English guys. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to go for a red-blooded American.’
Dyan laughed. ‘Like you, I suppose?’
‘Sure, like me.’
As, like Barney Starr, Russ had treated her like a daughter since she’d known him, Dyan knew that he was kidding as usual. Bending forward, she planted a kiss on his weathered cheek and said, ‘I could never find anyone half as sexy as you, Russ.’
He laughed, enjoying the game they played, but someone gave a polite cough behind her and they both looked round to see that Oliver had come up to them.
Russ finished his drink and stood up. ‘Time I was going back to the bridge.’ He gestured to the chair he’d been using. ‘Here, take a seat.’
Oliver thanked him and sat down beside her. Dyan was intrigued to see that he had changed into shorts. Compared to the rest of the crew, his skin was pale, but it was by no means lily-white. His legs were strong and muscular, as if he played a lot of sport, and, thankfully, not too hairy. There were one or two members of the crew who looked one step up from a gorilla. Some girls might like that, but Dyan found it a turn-off.
‘Did you find out anything?’ she asked.
‘Yes. Hopefully we’re in luck. The pop star has bought another boat, did so almost immediately, in fact—evidently it isn’t good for his image to be without a yacht—and he kept on the captain and the original crew. It seems they rescued him when the Xanadu went down, so he’s grateful to them for saving him to make more, and yet more music,’ he said with a mock groan.
‘Does he have his life insured with you?’ Dyan asked in some amusement.
Oliver grinned back, ‘Unfortunately, yes.’
‘You should be glad, then.’
‘Have you ever heard his so-called music, Dyan?’
‘I think there are probably a couple of his cassettes on board,’ she admitted.
‘Then, please, I beg of you, don’t play them when I’m around, or they’ll end up over the side,’ Oliver said feelingly.
She laughed delightedly. ‘I’ll tell Russ to give a top priority order to the crew.’
Joe came out on the deck carrying two tall glasses on a tray. ‘I thought you might like a martini,’ Oliver told her.
Usually Joe just brought up cans of cold beer, but these glasses were frosted and there was ice and lemon. He had evidently been given specific instructions. Dyan took one, hoping Oliver hadn’t seen the empty beer can under her chair. He must, she thought, be used to living in a very civilised style.
‘Thanks, that was thoughtful of you.’
‘I had an ulterior motive,’ he told her.
‘Oh?’ She gave him