Page 43 of Claimed
“Is that right?” she squeaked. “That can’t be right—is that really right?”
“What?” He glanced up from where he was pulling on his boxers—and Nicki pointed to the clock.
“I have to be at the beach in anhour—an hour! Ready to give a demonstration. That means I need to be there in a half hour, which means we should already be on our way!”
She flew to the dresser, pulling out clothes and throwing things on the floor until she found what she needed. Then, as if suddenly realizing what she’d done, she picked up the discards and shoved them back in the drawer—all more quickly than Stefan could draw breath to protest.
She was wriggling into a sport suit when he finally got words out. “We’re only a few minutes away from the beach by speedboat. We’ll go that way.”
“Great!” she said, diving for another drawer. He had a feeling he’d see a second avalanche of clothing. “Go get ready—and hurry! I don’t want to give Omir a reason to cancel the tour again tomorrow. Go!”
Stefan went, not even trying to stay his laughter. Nicki had transformed from languorous to hyper alert in the blink of an eye, all over a demo that she was doing not for love, not for money—but simply because it was the newest thing required of her to get the mission to the next step. As ridiculous as that sounded, it was enough motivation for her.
He was still laughing as he emerged from his own room a few minutes later to find Nicki already at his door, wearing a sundress over her bathing suit. “The concierge said you’re right, said you’d called for a boat. We’re only a few minutes away,” she blurted. “But we’ve got to go!”
They made it to the marina in less than ten minutes, Nicki chattering the whole way, mapping out her planned moves for the demonstration.
“It’ll be quick, I’m thinking, maybe only twenty minutes, though could be up to an hour,” she said, shouting over at him as they streaked across the bay toward the open beach. “I have no idea if I’ll like their equipment, but I’m sure they’ve got top of the line stuff. It depends on how its rigged.”
The wind whipped around them, forcing her to stand close to him in order to be heard. He didn’t mind. While he refrained from wrapping an arm around her, he leaned in close ostensibly to hear her chatter about the demo. In truth, however, he simply wanted to be nearer to her, as near as he could manage in the public eye. She was a live wire once more, all the fogginess of her mood directly after the short fall at the cliff gone, and her breathless excitement was intoxicating.
She pounded his arm. “Are you listening to me?”
“Every word,” he shouted back, transferring his gaze to the beach as they neared it. “Who’ll be out there with you?”
She turned and squinted, then nodded briskly, up on her toes, as if she was going to hop overboard and swim if that would get her there to shore quicker. The boat banked and cut speed, heading through the no wake zone.
“Josef—that’s half his staff right there, on the beach talking to the crowd. Oh good, they have kids. They’re the best with wind surfing, it’s so much like play they pick it up quickly, not as intimidating as surfboarding or as boring as bodyboarding. That’ll be—” she flashed a glance at him, coloring visibly despite the glare. “Sorry,” she said. “I chatter when I get nervous.”
He lifted his brows. “This demonstration makes you nervous?”
“Any performance does. It’s part of what makes it good, I guess, but I’m always keyed up, even for something simple, atleast until I get rolling on it.” She blew out a breath. “Once I get rolling I’m fine, usually. I simply have to get started.”
The boat swung in close to shore, and the gathering of men and women on the beach turned, one of the men raising a hand. Josef.
“Go ahead,” Stefan said. “It’s quicker from here if you swim. I’ll be along before you get started.”
“Good. Right.” Without further word Nicki stepped up on the ridge of the boat and jumped into the water, dry-tech dress and all. Her beach shoes were meant for exactly that, and she stroked briefly through the water before hitting a section of the beach where she could stand, then she moved swiftly out of the water, her arms pumping, her skin shining bright in the full sun.
Stefan couldn’t stop watching her as the boat whirled around, putting distance between them once again. Nicki had everything she needed—but he didn’t. He wanted to capture her demonstration on video.
He wanted to hold all that sunshine in his grasp, before it slipped away again for good.
Thirty-One
Nicki blew out a long breath as she reached the knot of people gathered at the shoreline. Her usual pre-performance nerves were fully in evidence, despite the very thorough,veryrelaxing time she’d spent with Stefan. She’d hoped that languor would endure for a little while longer.
“Miss Clark! Excellent, you’re here.” Omir came forward first, her efforts last night clearly paying dividends. She didn’t mind flirting with the Turkish official as a concept, but the reality was proving a little more tedious. She only had one more day, though. In twenty-four hours or so, they’d take their tour of the excavation site and get the information they needed—she hoped. Either way, she would forever be done with Omir and his musky cologne after that. She doubted she’d participate in another windsurfing competition in Alaçati until he left his position. There were hundreds of other places to windsurf in the world.
Of course, none of them were as close to Stefan as Alaçati was. He was here, and she doubted he’d ever consistently live anywhere else in the world but here. If she ever wanted to see him again, she’d need to drum up some reason to come to thisside of Europe…and the most obvious would be windsurfing. Otherwise, she’d look pathetic.
That thought struck her with unexpected force as she and Omir were joined by Josef and his crew, all of them buzzing happily about the moves they were going to show the beginners—and the ones they had saved to impress the intermediates as well. Unlike the international competition in August, not too many world-class windsurfers were in town for the exposition, given the focus on the newer adherents to the sport. Still, there were a few, and Josef fully planned to strut his stuff.
“You good, Nicki? We found a board we think you’ll like.” Josef waved his hand in front of her face, snapping her focus forward.
“I’m good—but don’t stick me out there first round, at least not doing anything interesting,” she warned. “I haven’t had much time in the water so far this year.” She cracked a smile, trying to quiet her own nerves. “Not all of us live on the beach, you know.”
“Not yet, but my offer stands!” Josef grinned. “We’re growing faster than we know what to do with, and the newer entrants to the sport have the money to travel. You could have all expenses paid, my friend, to go and windsurf your brains out in every corner of the globe. Think about it!”