“He is into you,” I said. “That won’t change. And I’m sure he thinks your brownies are the best around. Could be Gunner’s mentioning Matilda because he wants to see if you get jealous. Spur you into action.”

  “It’s working,” muttered Helen.

  “So, stop messing around with him and tell him how you feel.”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?” asked Helen. “We’re all living together. If we get together and then fall out, it will make things super awkward. Gunner is Zach’s brother, so you’ll feel bad for having to be mean to Gunner.”

  “I won’t be mean to Gunner if things don’t work out between you,” I said.

  “You should when he cheats on me with Matilda.”

  “You aren’t even dating!” I shook my head. “And I could say the same for Zach and me. If he keeps accusing me of hiding his things, then we could split up. And that will be just as awkward.”

  “You’re different,” said Helen. “You’ve been together forever. You’ll be getting married next.”

  Pressing my lips together, I looked out the window. I wasn’t ready to confess to Helen what I’d discovered in Zach’s sock drawer. I was still in shock about it. A ring box! It could only mean one thing. Were we ready to take that next step? Was I prepared to become Mrs. Zach Booth?

  “Not thrilled by the idea of marriage?” asked Helen.

  “Maybe one day.” I flicked on the radio. “Are you looking forward to spending a few months in Cornwall?”

  “It’s my favorite county.” Helen grinned. “And I read through the particulars. The house has a sea view.”

  “And the family has a yacht,” I said. “That’s where we’re meeting Marcus Patel, Julianne’s assistant. He will show us around the yacht, then take us to the family home.”

  “How exciting. I’ve always fancied myself on a yacht, sipping champagne and cruising around the Mediterranean while topping up my tan. That’s what I should marry into. Not a life as a worried policeman’s wife, never knowing what my cheating, brownie eating husband is getting up to on his late shift with his female colleagues.”

  “Enough doom and gloom over your non-existent relationship with Gunner,” I said. “Besides, if you were a yacht bunny, you’d get wrinkles. Doesn’t that worry you?”

  “I’d wear factor fifty sunscreen.” She grinned at me. “Although you’d better keep a wetsuit on if you’re going to be on deck in the sun. I don’t think I’ve ever seen your skin with more than a couple of freckles.”

  Whereas Helen turned a beautiful golden brown as soon as the sun hit her, I was lucky if I got away with a freckle and peeling shoulders. No matter how hard I tried, I could never tan. I’d accepted my fate as pale and interesting and did as Helen had suggested and kept covered in the sun. I didn’t risk a bright pink nose and blistered skin.

  “Don’t know if we’ll get the chance to do any cruising on the yacht, but I always enjoy seeing how the other half live.” And that was the beauty of this job; we lived in some of the most incredible houses in the country and sampled delights we could never afford on our salaries.

  We traveled for another hour before Helen left the main road, following the satnav directions as we drew closer to our destination. As we crested the top of a hill, I let out a gasp. The sea was in front of us, the light sparkling off the waves and boats bobbing on the tide. As I looked down the hill, I spotted numerous pastel colored cottages and knew I was in Cornwall, a county of wild contrasts and often wonderfully eccentric people.

  “Five miles to go until we get to the harbor,” said Helen.

  Lowering my window, I sucked in deep breaths of the sea air, feeling myself relax now we were almost there. I loved living with Zach, having a place to call home, a spot to put down roots, but it was nice to get away. I already missed Zach, though, and regretted our argument. It was silly to fight over knickers, watches, and shoes.

  I craned my neck as the marina came into view. The sun dazzled me as it reflected off the glass and chrome of the yachts moored in the marina. They ranged in size from small day skippers to fast, luxury yachts oozing with ostentatious wealth.

  We parked in the Ocean Pleasures Marina car park. I was glad to get out and stretch my legs. I’d seen enough of the inside of Helen’s car.

  “Which boat is ours?” asked Helen, as she shielded her eyes with her hand and looked around.

  “Not sure. But it’s called The Orwell. It was named after the science-fiction writer, George Orwell.” I let Flipper out of the back seat of the car. He stretched before looking around his new environment with interest. New sights and smells were always things Flipper enjoyed.

  “I hope it’s one of the big ones,” said Helen. “I’m not good with small boats.”

  “I didn’t know you get seasick. We’ve been on boats before and you were always fine.”

  “It has been known. But I’m fine on big boats.”

  “Let’s find you a big boat then.” I hooked my arm through her elbow, and the three of us walked along the marina, checking out the names of the moored boats. Lots of them had women’s names, such as Desdemona and Josephine. Named after wives or mistresses, most likely.

  “This is it.” Helen hurried forward, while I tugged Flipper away from sniffing a pair of flip-flops left on the jetty.

  We stopped by an enormous white yacht. It must have measured twenty meters, with a raised pilothouse, upper and lower California deck, and fishing cockpit. It rocked gently on the water as we stared at it.

  “Wow, this is quite something,” said Helen.

  “Big enough for you?” I asked.

  A man stepped out from below deck, a bucket of champagne in one hand and three glasses in the other. He wore a cream linen suit without a wrinkle on it, a red shirt underneath, and deck shoes with no socks. His skin was chocolate brown and his black hair immaculately gelled into place.

  He turned toward us and smiled. “Are you Lorna and Helen?”

  “That’s right,” I said. “Are you Marcus?”

  “I am. Come aboard; you are most welcome.” Marcus placed the champagne and glasses on the table on the deck. “I’m Julianne’s assistant. Her right-hand man, if you like.” He hurried over and held out his hand as we both climbed aboard.

  “Thanks.” I noticed the smoothness of Marcus’s hand. He looked like he’d just had a manicure. He put my nails to shame.

  “Welcome to The Orwell.” Marcus’s voice was warm and devoid of any accent.

  “It’s a lovely boat,” said Helen, as she looked around.

  Marcus grimaced. “It is. But better not call it a boat around here, or they’ll throw you out of the marina. The technical term is a yacht. Not that I know much about the yacht, just so long as it goes and there are no holes in it.” He laughed politely at his own joke.

  “Does the family use the yacht a lot?” I asked Marcus.

  “Not so much. Julianne’s husband was a real fan of the water.”

  “But he doesn’t get out much?”

  Marcus adjusted the cuff of his jacket. “Not so much. Would you both like a glass of champagne? Julianne told me to take the best of care of you both and to show you around and make you comfortable.”

  “That would be lovely.” Helen gave him a bright smile as she continued her inspection of The Orwell.

  Marcus made swift work of opening the champagne, and we were soon sipping bubbles and enjoying the view as he told us about the area and the jet-set crowd he mingled with. “This yacht isn’t the best here, but it’s up there with some of the lovely ones. It’s got a long-range motor, twin CAT engines, and a wave runner. Perfect if you fancy a week in Mexico sea fishing.”

  So much for him not knowing anything about yachts. “Like you said, so long as it doesn’t have any holes, I’m happy.”

  “Julianne likes to come here and work on board,” said Marcus, not picking up on my sarcasm. “She calls it her second office. She rarely takes the yacht out, but likes the view and to get away from the house sometimes.”

  “I’m fine with working on board,” I said.

  “It’s fully equipped. Let me show you down below.” He led us below deck and presented a luxurious lounge decked out in muted gray and cream. There were also three bedrooms, along with the bathroom and kitchen. It was all tasteful and expensive looking. “You’d barely know you were on the water if it weren’t for the rocking sensation.”

  “It is rather vigorous, isn’t it?” Helen placed a hand on her stomach.

  “You feeling okay?” Her cheeks looked worryingly pale.

  “Just need some fresh air.” Helen thrust her champagne flute at me and dashed up the steps, leaving Flipper and me with Marcus.

  His gaze went to Flipper, who had been following us around as we made the tour. “Does he go everywhere with you?”

  “He has to,” I said. “He’s my assistance dog. Helps me with a medical condition.”

  Marcus’s immaculate dark eyebrows rose. “Nothing serious?”

  “Nothing that Flipper and I can’t handle.” Flipper’s ghost hunting skills were much better than mine, when he wasn’t distracted by a fox or a cat or anything else on four legs. Or food. And he came in handy when there was a ghost around. He was my furry ghost detector.

  “Well, may I say you look far too radiant to be unwell.” Marcus smiled at me. “I have a feeling both you and Helen will be popular at the yacht club.”

  “Not sure we’ll get time for socializing,” I said, not liking the idea of being paraded around the club like a trophy.

  “Julianne is a generous employer and likes to make life comfortable for everyone,” said Marcus. “And, as you know, accommodation is provided as part of your contract. I have a room on the top floor of the house; it has one of the best views. Perhaps I can show you?”

  “I’m sure the view from my window will be enough for me.”

  Marcus gave a small sniff. “Anyway, you’ll get plenty of time off if you do want to come to the club with me as a guest. Julianne doesn’t spend a lot of time at the house. Providing you get the work done she requires, your time is your own.”

  “Sounds fair.” More than fair, she sounded like the perfect boss. But I wouldn’t use my spare time going to the yacht club on Marcus’s arm anytime soon.

  “There are always eligible bachelors at the yacht club,” said Marcus. He tilted his head and lowered his eyelids. “That’s if you’re looking.”

  “I’m definitely not looking,” I said, deciding to shut down Marcus before he went any further. “I’m happily living with my boyfriend.”

  Marcus nodded. “I’m not surprised to hear that. He’s a very lucky man.”

  I smiled at him. “I think so.”

  “And Helen?” Marcus twirled his empty glass between his fingers.

  “It’s complicated. I’ll let her explain things to you.”

  Marcus sighed. “It often is.”

  “Are you married?”

  “Only to my job,” said Marcus, his gaze flitting around the lounge. “I have ambitions to own a yacht like this one day. I’m learning everything I can from the Carlisles so I can grow my empire. In five years’ time, I’ll have all of this and more.”

  Flipper’s ears pricked up and he hurried to the other side of the lounge. He jumped up and put his paws on the window ledge to peer out onto the deck.

  “Is someone coming?” I followed Flipper and looked out the window, but couldn’t see anybody.

  Flipper jumped down from the window and circled the room, his gaze intent as if he was seeking something. He was acting as if he’d detected something otherworldly. I looked around, but couldn’t get any sense of a ghostly presence. No cold spells, no light-headedness, no chills. Just a slight buzz from the expensive champagne.

  “Is something wrong with your dog?” asked Marcus, as he watched Flipper hunting around.

  “Maybe he doesn’t like being below deck,” I said. “He’s not been on many yachts.” I did another discreet check of the room, but couldn’t see anything that would unsettle him.

  “Let’s go back on deck,” said Marcus. “You’ve seen everything down here. I’ll show you around the marina and then take you to the house and you can meet the family.”

  Flipper stayed close to my side as we headed back on deck, but kept glancing over his shoulder as if something was following him. His behavior set me on edge. Goose bumps prickled across my arms. But I saw nothing to suggest there was a ghost around. Could just be the motion of the waves making Flipper feel strange.

  As we got on deck, I spotted Helen at the other end of the yacht, leaning over the side and taking in deep gulps of air, her hands gripping the railing.

  I walked over and stopped by her side. “Feeling any better?”

  “Think I need to be on a bigger boat,” she whispered. “Just glad I don’t have to work on this thing like you will.”

  “Boats have never bothered me,” I said. “And there won’t be any call for you to come on here and do the laundry. You’ll be safe at the house until you get your sea legs.”

  Helen gave me a quick nod. “Any chance we can get off this thing?”

  “Oh dear.” Marcus hurried to the side of the yacht and looked toward the marina car park.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked.

  “Julianne is here. And she’s with Honey.”

  Chapter 3

  Marcus paced backward and forward, wringing his hands together. “Didn’t expect her here today. I had it all planned. I was to show you around and then take you to the house. Wish Julianne would stick to the schedules I give her.”

  “It’s not a problem Julianne’s here, is it?” I asked.

  “No, this is her yacht. Julianne can come and go as she chooses. But I like to have things laid out for when she arrives. Nothing is ready.” He turned toward the door to go below deck, but then stopped and turned back, his hands fluttering in the air.

  “I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

  “You don’t understand. Julianne is never fine when she’s with Honey.”

  “Who’s Honey?” asked Helen.

  “A work experience girl,” said Marcus. “She’s sweet enough. Don’t know what Blake was doing taking her on, especially with me here. She has no experience.”

  “Perhaps that’s why he took her on,” I said cautiously. “We all have to start somewhere.”

  “She’s not cut out for this kind of work,” said Marcus. “I haven’t got a clue what her background is. But it’s not in business.”

  “So long as Mr. Carlisle is happy with her that’s the main thing.”

  Marcus shot me a glare. “I guess you’re right. Come on, you’d better meet Julianne.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Helen as we followed Marcus and waited by the side of the yacht for Julianne and Honey to arrive. Looked like Marcus enjoyed controlling things around here.

  As Honey grew closer, I got an idea why Blake might have hired her. She was stunning, with enormous blue eyes, curves that put Helen’s to shame, and a mane of blonde hair, the roots peeking through showing she wasn’t a natural blonde. Somehow, that made her even more attractive and gave her a sultry air.

  Julianne strode along, ahead of Honey, her hands clasped in front of her. She was also an attractive woman in her mid-thirties, wearing a fitted flowered dress, her hair strawberry blonde. She had the classic good looks of most wealthy people, makeup expertly applied and her hair blow dried.

  “Don’t mind if they’re not friendly with each other,” muttered Marcus. “They have trouble getting along. It can make for a few arguments.”

  As if on cue, Julianne slowed and glared at Honey. “This will be the last time I tell you, you’re not to go into his study.”

  “I was looking for a map,” said Honey, her voice so low I could barely hear her. “Blake wouldn’t have minded me looking.”

  “You have no clue what my husband would like,” snapped Julianne. Her gaze shot to Helen and me and her eyes narrowed.

  Marcus hurried off the yacht. “Julianne, I’d like you to meet Lorna Shadow and Helen Holiday.” He extended his hand toward her, but she ignored him, her attention on us.

  “I thought you were coming to the house?”

  “We would have done,” I said, “but Marcus asked as to meet him here to show us around the yacht.”

  Julianne’s narrowed gaze shifted to Marcus. “Is Mr. Patel your employer?”

  I gulped. “No, Mrs. Carlisle. I was following the instructions sent.” This wasn’t a good start to our working relationship.

  “You received the wrong instructions.” Julianne stepped onto the yacht and gave us both a brief handshake. “Marcus should not have changed the arrangements without checking with me.”

  Marcus blinked rapidly. “I was only trying to be helpful. I know how busy you are.”

  “Never too busy to meet new members of the team.” The sharpness in her voice vanished. “And call me Julianne. Mrs. Carlisle makes me sound ancient. I guess you’ve already had the tour, thanks to Marcus.”

  “I was just showing them around.” Marcus wrung his hands together, his tone mournful.

  “It’s done now.” Julianne waved a hand in the air. She smiled at us and her features softened. “I hope you find the yacht to your liking?”

  “It’s lovely,” I said.

  “You can really feel the pull of the waves.” Helen still looked too pale.

  “It’s a peaceful place,” said Julianne. “I like to get away from the house now and again and get work done.”

  “I’m happy to work wherever you need me to,” I said.

  “Is it okay if I come on board?” Honey still stood on the jetty, her hands clasped in front of her.

  “If you must,” snapped Julianne, the smile sliding from her face. “But stay out of the way.”

  I extended a hand to Honey as she came on board. She shot a nervous glance at Julianne before shaking it. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” said Honey.

  “Pay her no attention,” said Julianne. “She’s my husband’s work experience girl. She won’t be here much longer.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17