Cinderella: Hired by the Prince / The Sheikh's Destiny. Marion Lennox

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СКАЧАТЬ a queue out there, Suse, all wanting to employ our Jen?’

      ‘You shouldn’t have done it,’ Susie said severely, looking at Jenny in concern. ‘You’ve embarrassed her to death.’

      ‘There’s no harm done,’ Cathy said. ‘They’re all too busy eating muffins to care. But honest, Jen, put an ad in the paper, or at least start reading the Situations Vacant. Susie has a husband, four kids, two dogs and a farm. This place is a tiny part of her life. But for you…This place has become your life. You can’t let it stay that way.’

      ‘It’s all I want,’ Jenny said stubbornly. ‘Serenity.’

      ‘That’s nonsense,’ Susie declared.

      ‘Of course it’s nonsense,’ Cathy said, jumping off the bench and heading for the door. ‘Okay, Stage One of my quest is completed. If it doesn’t have an effect then I’ll move to Stage Two, and that could be really scary.’

      Coffee ’n’ Cakes was a daytime café. Charlie was supposed to lock up at five, but Charlie’s life was increasingly spent in the pub, so at five Jenny locked up, as she was starting to do most nights.

      At least Charlie hadn’t heard of what had happened that morning. Just as well, Jenny thought as she turned towards home. For all Cathy’s assurances that she wouldn’t be sacked, she wasn’t so sure. Charlie’s temper was unpredictable and she had debts to pay. Big debts.

      Once upon a time Charlie had been a decent boss. Then his wife died, and now…

      Loss did ghastly things to people. It had to her. Was living in a grey fog of depression worse than spending life in an alcoholic haze? How could she blame Charlie when she wasn’t much better herself?

      She sighed and dug her hands deep into her jacket pockets. The rain from this morning had disappeared. It was warm enough, but she wanted the comfort of her coat. Cathy’s behaviour had unsettled her.

      She would’ve liked to take a walk along the harbour before she went home, only in this mood it might unsettle her even more.

      All those boats, going somewhere.

      She had debts to pay. She was going nowhere.

      ‘Excuse me?’

      The voice came from behind her. She swung around and it was him. The guy with the body, and with the smile.

      Okay, that was a dumb thing to think, but she couldn’t help herself. The combination of ridiculously good-looking body and a smile to die for meant it was taking everything she had not to drop her jaw.

      It had been too long, she thought. No one since…

      No. Don’t even think about going there.

      ‘Can I talk to you? Are you Jenny?’

      He had an accent—Spanish maybe, she thought, and seriously sexy. Uh oh. Body of a god, killer smile and a voice that was deep and lilting and gorgeous. Her knees felt wobbly. Any minute now he’d have her clutching the nearest fence for support.

      Hey! She was a grown woman, she reminded herself sharply. Where was a bucket of ice when she needed one? Making do as best she could, she tilted her chin, met his gaze square on and fought for composure.

      ‘I’m Jenny.’ Infuriatingly, her words came out a squeak. She turned them into a cough and tried again. ‘I…sure.’

      ‘The lady in the café said you were interested in a job,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for help. Can we talk about it?’

      He was here to offer her a job?

      His eyes were doing this assessing thing while he talked. She was wearing old jeans and an ancient duffel, built for service rather than style. Was he working out where she fitted in the social scale? Was he working out whether she cared what she wore?

      Suddenly she found herself wishing she had something else on. Something with a bit of…glamour?

      Now that was crazy. She was heading home to put her feet up, watch the telly and go to bed. What would she do with glamour?

      He was asking her about a job. Yeah, they all needed deckhands, she thought, trying to ground herself. Lots of big yachts came into harbour here. There’d be one guy in charge—someone like this. There’d also be a couple of deckies, but the guy in charge would be the only one paid reasonable wages by the owners. Deckies were to be found in most ports—kids looking for adventure, willing to work for cheap travel. They’d get to their destination and disappear to more adventure, to be replaced by others.

      Did this man seriously think she might be interested in such a job?

      ‘My friend was having fun at my expense,’ she said, settling now she knew what he wanted. Still trying to firm up her knees, though. ‘Sorry, but I’m a bit old to drop everything and head off into the unknown.’

      ‘Are you ever too old to do that?’

      ‘Yes,’ she snapped before she could stop herself—and then caught herself. ‘Sorry. Look, I need to get on.’

      ‘So you’re not interested.’

      ‘There’s a noticeboard down at the yacht club,’ she told him. ‘There’s always a list of kids looking for work. I already have a job.’

      ‘You do have a job.’ His smile had faded. He’d ditched his coat, leaving only his jeans and T-shirt. They were faded and old and…nice. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He looked loose-limbed, casually at ease with himself and quietly confident. His eyes were blue as the sea, though they seemed to darken when he smiled, and the crinkles round his eyes said smiling was what he normally did. But suddenly he was serious.

      ‘If you made the muffins I ate this morning you’re very, very good at your job,’ he told her. ‘If you’re available as crew, a man’d be crazy not to take you on.’

      ‘Well, I’m not.’ He had her rattled and she’d snapped again. Why? He was a nice guy offering her a job. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘But no.’

      ‘Do you have a passport?’

      ‘Yes, but…’

      ‘I’m sailing for Europe just as soon as I can find some company. It’s not safe to do a solo where I’m going.’

      ‘Round the Horn?’ Despite herself, she was interested.

      ‘Round the Horn,’ he agreed. ‘It’s fastest.’

      That’d be right. The boaties in charge of the expensive yachts were usually at the call of owners. She’d met enough of them to know that. An owner fancied a sailing holiday in Australia? He’d pay a guy like this to bring his boat here and have it ready for him. Maybe he’d join the boat on the interesting bits, flying in and out at will. Now the owner would be back in Europe and it’d be up to the employed skipper—this guy?—to get the boat back there as soon as he could.

      With crew. But not with her.

      ‘Well, good luck,’ she said, and started to walk away, but he wasn’t letting her СКАЧАТЬ