The Carrero Effect Trilogy

Chapter 24

In typical Jake fashion, the trip is organized at lightning speed, in a matter of days at most, which passes in a flurry of a busy schedule. Before long, we're heading to the sunny of Jake's father's yacht.

The yacht is enormous; we're anchored off the shore of the most luscious, secluded beach I've ever seen. I'm completely overwhelmed by the beauty of this place. The sun is beating down, and there is a gentle breeze of sweet, salty air. It's truly a paradise, complete with palms and white sandy shores.

The crew members are formal and walk around in white uniforms; the captain even wears his hat. And everything we desire is brought to us by these magical servants who stay out of sight until needed. It is beyond my wildest dreams, and for a minute, I wonder what it would be like to be married to someone like Jake, having this life all the time.

He seems so much more chilled and carefree, a smile never far from that handsome face and somehow different. Jake's friends seem okay. Daniel keeps his distance, and I wonder if Jake has warned him off.

There are six of them with us. Daniel and two other men, Vincent and Richard, twins with white-blonde hair and gray eyes, all

American good looks and square shoulders. Jake has an alarming number of good-looking friends. They have brought hot, leggy women on board, two of whom are currently completely topless and wandering about on deck, having some bitchy glaring competition. The third is Leila Huntsberger, Sophie's new sister.

Richard's date Leila is amazing; she's petite and blonde like a tiny hurricane in a teapot. She introduced herself to me with a hug and a giggle, then poked fun at Jake mercilessly, highlighting a real friendship. I fell in love with her spirit and hyper energy as soon as she blew on deck, always smiling and the center of fun and hilarity.

Like me, Vincent's date, Marissa, is small and tawny-haired, although hers is browner with highlights. She's curvy and has an almost exotic look, like Jennifer Lopez, only sulkier with more curves. I really disliked something about her immediately; she has been arrogant and icy toward me since the second I arrived hand-in-hand with Jake at the airport.

The other girl, Daniel's lady of the moment, is a mirror image of most of the women he dated. Her name is Miracle; I assume it's a porn name. She's tall, slim, and seems to be all brown hair, boobs, and legs. She's hanging over Daniel's arm, practically licking him.

It has not been lost on me that Marissa and Miracle swoon and pout whenever Jake appears. However, Leila seems oblivious to his charms and adoringly spends her time crooning over Richard.

Jake is looking as handsome as always. He's topless with ruffled hair and his usual sleek shades and wearing knee-length shorts that showcase his desirable physique, bad boy tattoos, and tanned skin. Not staring at him half-naked has been challenging, even awkward at first, considering he's my boss, and I have never seen him topless before except in internet pictures. He is a lot sexier in the flesh.

He's been swimming with Daniel in the ocean, topping up that Italian tan, looking jaw-droppingly yummy. Despite that, after being here almost two days, I've managed to relax and start on my tan.

Before our trip, Donna met me, laden with bags of clothes suitable for a tropical getaway, and I threw Jake an accusatory glare. It wasn't hard to figure out that he was behind the non-stop purchasing. He's since promised to limit Donna's gold card to a budget under my direction and stop reaching for her number anytime he is obsessed with dressing me up like a Barbie doll.

I'm wearing a bikini that's a lovely shade of coral and a matching sarong around my waist in a pale print. I'm not really a bikini wearer, but I don't feel so self-conscious now that two women's breasts are jaunting around on deck before me. The men must be used to the spectacle, as none seem to pay attention to the naked boobs. This surprises me; in fact, Jake appears to avoid looking that way at all. Totally un-Carrero of him.

I'm leaning against the rail near the front of the yacht, absentmindedly watching the gentle waves, aware of his presence as soon as he comes close. Even a couple of feet away, my skin prickles at his proximity. It's that warm, tingling feeling, an aura of safety and familiarity whenever he's around.

"Here." He hands me a bottle of cold, flavored water with a smile, his eyes shielded from view by his Ray-Bans.

"Thanks." I open it and take a long drink. I didn't realize how dehydrated I was, maybe too heated with his topless body so close.

"You look nice." He appraises me through tinted lenses, and I wait for the sexual banter or joking come-ons, but it doesn't happen. I've noticed since our arrival that flirty, always-giving me-the-charm Jake has been reigned in. He's being respectful.

"Thanks." My cheeks warm. His eyes are skimming my swimsuit, appraising me, and I turn away, so he doesn't see how awkward it's making me. Bikini-wearing is a new sensation; I have to acclimatize to it. I also don't want to stare at his expanse of naked torso; it's an understatement to say he looks hotter than hot. Up close, it's hard not to admire what being a fitness freak has done to that chiseled body.

"We're going to the shore tonight for dinner. You want to come?" He's looking across the calm water that stretches out to the horizon, sparkling peacefully, distracting him.

"Sure," I smile back at him. I shield my eyes from the sun, and he automatically swipes his sunglasses from his face to mine, sending a slight shimmer of warmth through me, like his thoughtfulness always does. My attentive Jake. I can't help but beam at him. I feel like I'm always doing that nowadays.

"I really should carry a pair of these," I laugh, but he shrugs it off.

"They look better on you than they do on me. Your cuteness goes with my shades," he winks adorably.

That's doubtful, as he has a knack for buying things that increase the level of sexiness he exudes.

"Where are we going for dinner?" I ask, trying to distract myself from staring at his face, shoulders, rippling chest, and carved abdomen … Oh lord.

"Some little seafood place Marissa knows."

"I want to get my hair cut while we're here. Do you think there are any hairdressers on the mainland?" I regret asking as he turns toward the three women sunning themselves on deck, two of them topless and watching him studiously.

"Leila will know; she comes here a lot." He nods toward the only one wearing a bikini. I resist asking him if he's slept with any of the three women, but I know it's probably likely. I know how these rich men pass around their beauties between them, like some sort of guy's club, the women only too eager to please.

I notice Marissa watching him coolly, a strange expression on face. He catches her eye, flexes his jaw, and turns away quickly; a sudden sharp pain in my chest pushes me. Before thinking through my impulsive observation, I ask, "You know Marissa well?" I blink toward him, and he pauses for a second. So does my heart rate.

"Once." There's a coolness to his voice, and he stares off toward the distant horizon; it sends trepidations through me. This side of him mystifies me when he clams up and doesn't speak. It doesn't happen often, but it makes me anxious, as he's usually always so forthcoming. Jake never acts weird around women he used to date either; they usually know they will be temporary, and most stay friendly after. I glance at her again, watching her biting her lip and lustfully staring at his powerful body.

I hate her already.

"Want to come for a swim with me?" His voice slices through my wandering thoughts: visions of the two passionately entangled as I stab her in the head.

Stop it, Emma! What the hell?

"Now?" I blink, shaking the horrifying images out of my brain.

"Why not?" he smiles at me, watching me closely; I'm sure he's waiting on the magical moment he's expecting to see on this trip where I unwind and chill out. I regret not coming alone with him after all. And I am trying to relax. It's hard to do when two of your vacation buddies keep mentally undressing your date so openly; well, companion, not date, because we are not dating, not that we ever would.

It might have been easier without the playboy bunnies trying to eye-screw him over there.

"Sure." It beats watching them writhing on deck suggestively as their men toss back martinis while listening to bass-pounding dance music and snorting lines of cocaine. I'm glad that's not something Jake has done around me or admitted to anyway. He's never mentioned Daniel's frequent use of drugs or that he's ever joined in with him. I think I would cry if Jake were doing it now.

We wander to the platform at the stern, and I strip off my sarong, admiring Jake as he expertly dives in, and I follow him.

***

The water feels luxurious, and Jake is an amazingly powerful swimmer who looks as good in the water as he does out of it. Like a boy, he has pushed me under twice now. I swim toward the beach, but I'm too slow, and he catches my ankle for the third time, dunking me again. This game isn't so fun now; he's too fast and strong.

"Stop … it," I splutter, rising to the surface, coughing and choking, wiping the water out of my eyes again as I'm met with his childish grin.

"Only if you ask me nicely, tiny." He smooths the water from his face, and I can't help but notice his hair gel must be water-resistant; apart from looking a little ruffled, it's still pretty much spiked in his trademark 'do.' Carrero products are worth the high price tag.

He swims to me and gets dangerously close.

Whoa there, boss. My bikini is virtually underwear, and you're only half-dressed.

This scenario seems a little more inappropriate somehow. To me, it is like frolicking naked.

"Will you please stop trying to drown me, Mr. Carrero," I beg, the naughty glint in his eye only making my heart sink knowing he's in full-blown play mode. This doesn't bode well for me; it never does.

"Seeing as you ask so sweetly, Miss Anderson." He pushes me under again; this time, he catches me under the water by the hips, and I'm pulled up against him hard. We're nose to nose, and it doesn't seem so right anymore; now, it's a little too much like being genuinely naked. It's closer than I think, even he expects, and he releases me quickly. I'm incredibly aware that my exposed stomach just had an undeniable graze with his bulging groin, and now I can't shake the feeling from my skin. Maybe this is a bad idea after all. There's a strange atmosphere between us, and I don't like it.

He quickly swims away from me toward the shore, and all I can do is follow him. The beach isn't that far, but it's exhausting, yet I manage the swim behind him in the crystal depths, and the reward is worth it.

The beach is gloriously scorching with swaying palms and soft white sands. I can make out the distant hum of music from the yacht behind us, and watching Jake lazily walk across the shoreline is breathtaking. I'm lucky my boss makes for a gorgeous view on all terrains, which keeps things interesting.

Can't ever deny a good bit of eye candy.

As I've left my sarong on the boat, I'm now walking around in bikini bottoms, showing the entire length of my naked legs. It's nerve-wracking, considering I rarely wear short skirts or dresses, and now here I am in skimpy beachwear, in public, in front of Jake with his fantastic body. This is enough to give anyone a complex.

My wet hair is heavy in its ponytail, so I pull it free, ringing out the water and leaving it hanging down my back to cover some skin. It's been too long lately, and I should look at a new style; it's time for a change.

Maybe a sleek bob? Maybe not! All that loose hair to twirl will send Jake crazy; he'll probably shave my head.

He stops to look back at me and pauses, his gaze on me as I close the gap slowly. It's hard to ignore his eyes doing that same sweep over me he did on deck, male eyeballing, taking in the amount of exposed skin and how my boobs look in a bikini. I squirm under that gaze yet feel nothing of my usual revulsion when men check me out. He takes my hand to drag me with him and thankfully turns away, facing forward.

It's not long before the sun dries me off, the glistening heat on my shoulders warming me through, making me feel lazy, and I forget all about his smoldering looks. I find so many beautiful shells to take home for Sarah as we walk a fair bit and skim pebbles on the waves in easy, quiet companionship. We pass the time with small talk, about Sophie, about work. I never realized how easily we blend when we're just chilling out. It's natural, unforced, and we talk about everything from current events and movies to what we think is happening on the yacht in our absence. I like it. I think he was right; we needed this. We needed this time to chill and relax with each other again, remove all the pent-up frustration and agitation, and rebuild our easy friendship. I needed this to let go of all the Chicago crap.

"Here, Emma." I turn back, and he hands me his shades again now that the sun has moved higher in the sky. I had been shielding my eyes without even realizing it. I smile and put them on. They have a crazy rubber band thing across the back that holds them on when swimming; that's how he kept them on for the swim over here. I give him a grateful smile as I accept them.

"Thanks," I say as he throws another pebble into the water, looking at me oddly. I can't help noticing the expression, but I can't decipher it.

"What is it?" I tilt my head to watch him.

"You seem a bit more relaxed now we're over here." That's an understatement; being away from over-sexed women with lusty gazes certainly takes the edge off the atmosphere. I regret not coming on this trip as just the two of us. I think I would have preferred it.

"I feel more relaxed," I answer lightly without explanation.

"You look it." He skims another stone like an expert. I watch him, catch his smile and return it.

"I'm glad you made me come." Hard to admit, but he was right.

"I'm glad I didn't have to force you." His smile turns mocking, and that little eyebrow raises as dimples appear.

"Technically, you gave me no choice," I frown back at him.

"You always have a choice with me, Emma; you know that." His voice is gentle and unintentionally ironic as he has no clue how overbearing he can sometimes be. I laugh and shake my head in exasperation.

Sure, I do, Carrero.

"We should be getting back; the others will think we don't like them," he says, watching me. I can't help but notice how the sun glistens on his skin, shadows falling under prominent muscles, making him look chiseled.

Yes, we should.

"Sure, I'm kinda hungry too." I pull off his eyewear to hand them over, following him to the shore. We wade out until the water lifts our feet from the bottom, and I break into a swim behind him.

We swim back leisurely, and he stays close to me; I think he's worried I won't have the stamina to do it, but I prove him wrong. It's exhausting, but all those gym sessions lately and the early morning jogs have been doing me wonders. It makes lounging with Jake in barely any clothes less mortifying. I'm glad I prepared my beach body ahead without knowing I needed it.

***

We have lunch on the main deck with the rest of the party, eating chicken Caesar salad and drinking wine, relaxing on the padded double loungers in the mid-day sun. Jake's beside me, leaning toward Daniel's lounger, his muscular back covered in a pale gray T-shirt; they're talking about a New York Giants game they recently went to at MetLife Stadium. I'm facing the lounger with Richard and Leila; she and I are engrossed in girl talk and making plans. She agrees to take me to the mainland for some girly shopping and a salon to get my hair cut.

I catch Jake staring back at me as she picks up strands of my hair, talking about cutting it short; he frowns when she mentions a really short pixie style, but I shrug it off. He seems only half-tuned into what Daniel is saying and more interested in how much of my tawny locks should be shorn off. I wonder what he's thinking.

"I think maybe you would suit shoulder length." Leila's sweet little voice breaks into my thoughts. The girl is the dictionary definition of a perky blonde, with all smiles and cuteness, ample boobs, and gentle curves.

"Maybe." I pick up a strand, too, twirling it as I look at it, considering it. I catch Jake watching me again and, this time, lock eyes. I want to know what he thinks, but I don't want to ask his opinion openly.

"What's wrong with how it is?" he breaks in with a frown, making Leila crease her pretty face, but he pushes in any way.

"Jake, men have no clue. Women like a drastic change every so often," Leila quips at him with a beaming smile.

"If it's not broke, then don't fix it," Jake replies, raising his eyebrows as his eyes skim my hair, an air of hostility brewing.

"Maybe it's not broken, but it can definitely be revamped. Women like to shake it up and try a new look," she sasses him. This has a comedy battle between two obviously good friends written all over it.

"It's my hair!" I point out, putting my hands up between the two of them. Jake reaches out, takes a strand, and tucks it behind my ear, his eyes skimming it again as though he's thinking about something, and he doesn't seem happy.

"I like it how it is, but if you want to change it, then fine; it always grow back," he says in that childish sulking tone of his.

Leila smirks, and I laugh at him. He sounds like a boyfriend and definitely not a boss.

"Worried your girlfriend won't get you all hot and bothered with short hair, Jacob?" Leila leans over me to prod her finger on Jake's cheek. I open my mouth to correct her that we're not in a relationship, but Jake leans over me to shove Leila back.

"Shut up, wench. Emma has more sense than to let me be her boyfriend." He sounds a little more severe than I think he means to, and I clamp shut.

"Oh right, I forgot. You're just friends." The honey-like way she says it makes Jake and I throw her friendly fake smiles. "I can see that," she adds sarcastically.

"Really, we are." My feeble attempt is ignored by her. She smiles and sighs loudly, throwing herself back on her lounger.

"Well then, you won't care if I take her to get it all shaved off, will you?"

Jake casts her a look somewhere between a challenge and a glare before turning to me with a friendlier face.

"Emma can do whatever she wants with her hair. She'll always look beautiful." Sulky vibes growing, he gets up, turns his back on us, and walks off to follow Daniel, who has gone to the table laden with lunch.

"Someone is not a happy little playboy today!" Leila grins and throws me a charming, feigned-innocent smile. I am focused on that slight lurch in my stomach from his calling me "beautiful," pushing it down quickly. I don't bother replying to Leila. I don't even know how, if I am being honest. He certainly didn't behave like my boss just then.