Page 9 of Captain's Orders
They both dissolved into laughter and Jordan stood in the corridor, face burning. She'd told herself she was imagining things but apparently the crew had noticed too.
What she really wanted was to head to the deck, pretend she hadn't heard any of this. But if she let it slide, they'd keep talking and that wasn't acceptable. So, she pushed the door open.
The laughter cut off instantly. Rei was perched on the counter, a bread roll frozen halfway to her mouth while Lindsay stood at the stove. They both stared at Jordan, then exchanged a quick, panicked glance.
"Captain," Lindsay said, her voice unnaturally bright. "We were just?—"
"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear any of that."
The color drained from Lindsay's face.
"We didn't mean—" Rei started.
"It was just—" Lindsay tried at the same time.
"You're wrong." Jordan looked at Lindsay, then at Rei. "There's nothing going on between me and Dani. Our relationship is strictly professional. Understood?"
"Of course," Lindsay said quickly. "Absolutely. We were just joking around, we didn't?—"
Jordan moved toward the counter, glancing at the selection of salads and cold side dishes. "Now that we've cleared that up—are we still on track for eight? Or are the guests running late? I don't like sitting up there waiting."
Lindsay blinked at the subject change, then recovered. "Yes, we're on track. The Whitfields are already seated with champagne."
"Good."
Jordan turned and left before either of them could say another word. She headed for the upper deck, where the table had been set for fourteen.
She greeted her guests with handshakes and her usual questions—how had the charter been so far, had they enjoyed the beach, was there anything they'd like to do differently tomorrow? But her mind kept drifting to the lingering looks comment. Was that really true?
Dani appeared with a basket of warm bread rolls, a small dish of seasoned olive oil, and a bowl of olives. "Would anyone like a top-up?" she asked, retrieving the champagne bottle from the cooler.
Jordan kept her eyes on Gerald, who was launching into a story about their last sailing holiday. She nodded in the right places, made appreciative sounds, asked a follow-up question.
Dani leaned between her and Patricia to refill Patricia's flute. The top two buttons of her shirt were open which was nothing unusual. It was warm and she wasn't showing anything inappropriate. Jordan saw Dani in this uniform every working day. So why was she suddenly noticing the line of her neck?
"—and that's when the boom came loose," Gerald was saying.
"Terrifying," Jordan said. "Did you manage to secure it yourself?"
"Well, the crew handled most of it, but I like to think I helped."
"I'm sure you did." Jordan reached for a bread roll she didn't want. "You know, we had a similar situation last year. Wind came out of nowhere, fifty knots, guests everywhere—" She was talking too much. She never talked this much. But if she stopped, she might be staring at Dani again, and Dani was now pouring champagne for the others, right in front of her.
"—anyway, the point is, you never know what the sea will throw at you."
"Fascinating," Patricia said warmly. "You must have so many stories."
"A few." Jordan took a sip of champagne. Then another. She was going to need more than one glass of wine tonight.
Dani caught her eye as she moved around the table with a small frown between her brows. Confusion, maybe, as Jordan usually turned down the champagne.
Jordan asked Patricia about their grandchildren. She listened to Caroline complain about New York traffic. She laughed at Gerald's jokes and pretended to be interested in Sarah's stories about her interior design business. She didn't look at Dani. Not when she refilled the water glasses, not when she cleared the bread basket, not when she served the starters and the mains.
By the time dessert was served, Jordan's face ached from smiling.
7
DANI
