Page 105 of The Nanny and the Nerd
She sighed, taking it in. Like something out of a movie, the lush green island of St. Barts emerged from the sea. Rolling hills dotted with orange-roofed homes welcomed them to the island as sailboats glided across the glassy waters. Instantly, her writer’s eye saw romance at every turn—the possibility of love weaving its way across the white sandy beaches that encased the isle. From the land to the twinkling lights, this little slice of heaven sat alone in an expanse of ocean as if it were the perfect mirage.
A place where anything seemed possible.
And what a setting for a story! She focused on one of the passing sailboats, gracefully riding the Caribbean breeze as it joined a slew of other majestic boats in the marina.
Who were these people inhabiting this remote paradise? What were their stories? How did they get here? Were they like her, living a humdrum life one day only to be swept up by the winds of fate?
She reached for her tote, pulled out a small notepad and pen, then jotted down three words.
Winds of fate.
“You’re not supposed to be working,” Rowen called as he steered the watercraft through the open sea.
She dropped the pen and pad into her bag and came to his side. “It’s not work. Just a little inspiration.”
“Inspiration, huh?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Something like that,” she replied, then focused on the island. She had no connection to the Caribbean. This was her first trip to this part of the world, but the land and the sea spoke to her. Everything about the last five days had been the polar opposite of her life in Denver. Perhaps this jolt to her system was what she needed. The spark of inspiration had to be a good sign. Perhaps, when she set foot on land, more would come.
Five nights ago, they’d flown into the island’s small airport. Rowen had carried a sleeping Phoebe in his arms as they deplaned. But their time on land was short-lived. A sleek SUV had met them on the runway, and barely ten minutes had passed before the car stopped, and they boarded the gleaming superyacht. In a haze of private plane travel, she’d barely had a moment to take in the island’s charm. Her heart raced as two competing emotions welled in her chest. She wanted desperately to know where Rowen was taking her while simultaneously not wanting this moment to end, wanting to live in a state of exhilarating anticipation. A delicious euphoria surged through her veins. She’d faint from the adrenaline if she didn’t simmer down. Taking two slow, deliberate breaths, she channeled Libby on the exhale and gave herself a little namaste pep talk.
Slow down. Take it in. Don’t miss a detail. Don’t overlook what’s right in front of you.
She nuzzled into Rowen and drew tiny circles on his chest with her fingertips as he reduced the watercraft’s speed, navigating through the marina. Packed with gleaming yachts and majestic, towering sailboats, it wasn’t hard to see that the rich and famous flocked to the tropical location. But there was something beyond the glitz here. A connection between the land and the water and the precarious balance of life existing in this ocean paradise.
Rowen cut the engine as a pair of attendants dressed in crisp white uniforms waved them over to an empty dock.
“Bienvenu,” a dark-haired attendant called, greeting them in French as he secured the boat.
“How’s your French?” Rowen asked softly.
She shook her head. “Nonexistent. I took two semesters of Spanish back in high school.”
“Lucky for you, I speak just enough to get us into trouble,” he answered with a sly grin, then removed a slip of paper from his pocket. She tried to get a better look at it. He’d had it with him at dinner, and she hadn’t thought much of it. Now it looked as if it contained an address or possibly a clue as to where they were headed.
“Is that what we’re doing here? Getting into a little trouble?” she pressed as he slid the note back into his pocket.
“My lips are sealed,” he replied, then mimicked locking his mouth shut.
“Monsieur Gale, we will take care of your boat. Enjoy the island. Your car is waiting,” the other attendant said in a flowing French accent as he offered her his hand and helped her off the boat.
“A car?” she asked, glancing over her shoulder at her tight-lipped tech mogul as she stepped onto the dock.
“Our destination is a bit off the beaten path,” he replied, accepting a set of car keys from the other attendant.
“Rowen, where are you taking me? Is it somewhere you’ve gone before?” she asked, slipping the strap of her tote over her shoulder as he took her hand, and they started down the dock. The splish-splash of the ocean kissing the shore and the sweetly scented humid air engulfing the land threatened to lull her into a heady tropical trance. But she couldn’t get thrown off by her lush surroundings.
“I need a little more information, or my head is going to explode,” she said, giving him a good poke in the chest—so much for the namaste practice!
He removed his phone from his pocket. “I can help with that,” he replied, typing away. “Okay, Saint Barthélemy, also known as Saint Barts, is a volcanic island encircled by shallow reefs.” He tapped the screen, reading as he scrolled. “It has a population of almost ten thousand. The capital is Gustavia, and French is the official language.” He looked up from the screen and grinned.
She cocked her head to the side. “Did you google St. Barts and regurgitate the highlights?”
Confusion marred his beautiful face. “Yes, isn’t that what you asked me to do.”
She bit back a grin, loving how this man’s mind worked.
“I’d appreciate some information about what we’re doing here,” she exclaimed, laughing as she gave him another poke to his solid chest.
