Chapter 6: The Salty Sea

The wind whipped Cora's hair across her face as the 60-foot catamaran cut across the waves. She lifted her sunglasses to restrain the wild strands as best she could. It didn't do much to improve her discomfort with the way the midday sun flared against the blue-green water. The boat crested a wave, and a blast of salty spray made her eyes water.

"Great, Cora! Look back over your shoulder at me?"

Mel seemed unfazed by the elements as she guided Cora's movements for the camera. Of course, unlike Cora, her producer was allowed to pull back her long black hair into a sensible ponytail any time she wanted. Not to mention the beat-up ball cap Mel wore to protect her copper-colored skin from the sun's harsh rays.

"No, go back and try it again," Mel directed her. "With your eyes open this time."

Mel cracked her gum to punctuate her sentence, and a tremor crept down Cora's spine. She hated that sound beyond all reason. She prayed Mel wouldn't make a habit of it. The producer had been assigned to Cora and Jamie as one of their dedicated handlers for the next four weeks. So far, since the plane had landed at Cozumel International Airport, Cora had spent more time with Mel and Cameron, the camera-operator, than with her co-star.

So much for being stranded all alone with him in paradise.

Cora turned again, and this time the wind cooperated. Her hair draped around her neck like a silken scarf.

"That's it. Beautiful!"

Cora spied the top of Jamie's head on the far side of the boat. He was mostly blocked from view by the flapping mainsail. The two of them had been separated since they boarded this sea taxi to their final destination. The beach where they'd be staying was too remote to reach by road. Once the catamaran dropped them off, they'd truly be cut off from everyone other than the TV crew and each other.

It's an adventure, Cora reminded herself, ignoring the knot in her stomach. It was this or slink back home to the slush-covered front steps of her brownstone apartment building in New York, with all her new vacation outfits unworn and all her leading-lady energy unspent.

It had nothing to do with Jamie. Nothing to do with the fluttery sensation in her throat this morning, when he put his arm around her and talked to her of butterflies and fate. Nothing whatsoever to do with the pleading look in his eyes the moment after, when he let her past the suave exterior for a moment.

Those eyes had dripped with confidence the night before, but in that moment on the bus she only saw a little boy, lost. It had brought to mind vague memories, long buried, of being separated from her class during a kindergarten field trip. The panic of not knowing where to turn or who to trust.

Mel cracked her gum again, all smiles. The producer couldn't have been more than five feet tall, but she had the kind of bubbly enthusiasm that made her presence larger than her size. "You're doing awesome, babes. Ready for your interview?"

Cora sighed. "Another one?"

"You can tie back your hair for this so it isn't too distracting. Turn around." Mel produced a hair clip, and Cora stooped to allow the shorter woman to arrange her hair in a messy twist. All the while, despite the roar of the wind and the hum of the boat's engine, Cora swore she could hear every swish and squish of the gum. She grit her teeth.

She couldn't take it. She would withstand whatever torment the crew had in store for her next, but not this. Not gum.

And why should she? She was the star of this show, was she not? Cora forced her jaw to relax and stood up straight. What did she care what these TV people thought of her? Mel needed her good opinion far more than she needed Mel's.

"Could you possibly spit your gum out, please?" Cora met Mel's eyes over her shoulder, unsure what reaction to expect. She had limited experience asking a stranger for such a favor. She had always considered it her own responsibility to accommodate the world around her, not ask the world to accommodate itself to her.

Mel's mouth made a little O, frozen in mid chew.

"Sorry." Cora backpedaled. "I have a weird thing with certain... mouth noises."

"No, totally!" Mel turned her head to the side and spit the offending wad out to sea. "No worries. OK, why don't we have you lean backward against the railing. Perfect!"

Mel's sunbeam energy had not been dampened by the sacrifice of her chewing material to the salty depths. Cora made a mental note to tell her therapist about this exchange when she got home. How was it possible, in a lifetime of enduring the mental anguish caused by gum-chewers, she'd never once asked a stranger to spit it out? What a concept.

Cora made another mental note while she was at it. Mel was not the only one on this trip who needed her cooperation. She was doing her co-star the favor of a lifetime just by being here. Jamie had acknowledged as much when she agreed to put her life on hold for month to save his ass. "I swear," he'd said. "I'll make it up to you somehow."

She would take him up on that, Cora decided then and there. She would simply ask him for what she wanted from him. What and when and how.

"So," Mel prompted. "Tell us what you think so far of Jamie."

They must have been interviewing him as well, on the far side of the deck. The sound of his throaty laughter carried to her on the wind.

"I'll admit, he's aesthetically pleasing," Cora told the camera with a saucy lilt to her voice. She allowed her eyes to wander upward as she pictured him. He'd changed clothes earlier, as she stood with him in the security line at JFK. Right there in front of everyone, he'd stripped to the waist, stowed the previous night's shirt and blazer in his suitcase, and pulled on a fitted white t-shirt that clung to the architecture beneath.

The fluttery sensation had resumed at this turn of events, albeit in a slightly different location.

But Cora forced that image from her head for now and clamped her mouth into a sterner line. "The problem is he knows it. Never trust a guy with an ego bigger than the boat you're sailing on."

Mel cracked up. "You're so funny, babes! So you don't trust him?"

"I don't trust anyone who's that into himself." Cora rolled her eyes. She lied to the camera smoothly enough to surprise even herself. "Let him try his player ways on me and see how far that gets him. I have zero interest."

"Zero? Have you seen his abs yet?"

The wind died for a moment, and Cora heard his voice again. She couldn't make out the words, but Cora could guess the gist of it. No doubt telling the camera over there that she was tolerable to look at but not pretty enough to tempt him. Something along those lines.

She strained her ears to eavesdrop and thought she might have heard his voice utter the name "Jazlene," a girl from one of the other couples who looked like a Latina version of Gigi Hadid. "The only fittie in the bunch..." she heard him add.

Nice touch, Cora thought with furtive smile. She had to give the man credit. He knew the source material.

Cora laughed, the airiest laugh she could muster with saltwater and insults slapping her in the face. "It is a truth universally acknowledged," she told the camera on Cameron's shoulder, "that a male model in possession of a good six-pack, must be in love with himself."

She could only hope Jamie wouldn't reference the same opening line from Pride & Prejudice. That might give the game away. They should have clarified, when they hatched their hasty plan this morning in the airport security line, who had dibs on the book's most famous quote.

"We need a storyline," he had told her as he went over his white t-shirt with a lint roller. "We have to get our characters worked out before we get to the gate."

She could hardly believe what she was hearing at the time. "Excuse me? I thought this was a reality show."

"Exactly." He'd offered her the lint roller, eyes dropping to her wool coat and the shapeless hoodie sweatshirt underneath. "We have to decide what reality we want to present."

"You said we were just going to lie on a beach and forget the world!"

"That too. Don't worry, I have it all worked out."

He'd explained to her that their portrayal on the show would be shaped and edited before it was broadcast to the world. The two of them could either create a story arc for themselves, or they could let the show's writers choose for them. "Never a good idea," he'd told her with a faint shudder.

"So what do you suggest?"

"We set things up nicely with our banter last night. Just lean into that dynamic a little harder."

"The Bond-Moneypenny thing?" She'd balked at the idea. "Uh, no. Not going to act like a secretary who enjoys being sexually harassed for the next month. Not happening."

He'd clapped himself on the chest and staggered backward, a close replica of the gesture he'd used last night when she delivered her best zinger over cocktails.

"No, that's perfect. That's the vibe right there." He'd pointed from himself to her. "Me? I'm under delusions that I'm some international man of mystery, completely full of myself. And you? You're the brilliant double doctor who sees straight through me. You understand? Zero romantic interest. Complete disdain."

"I can do disdain."

"Shouldn't be too much of a stretch for either of us."

She couldn't help but laugh. "So, we're going to pretend to hate each other for a month?"

"I'm thinking more of a will-they/won't-they situation. You know..." He'd waved a vague hand. "Elizabeth Bennett and Mr. Darcy before the Netherfield Ball."

Pride and Prejudice? She'd been stymied for a moment. Had he really referenced a Jane Austen novel to her? "You saw that movie too?"

"That's my favorite book, I'll have you know!"

She'd stared at him in disbelief, knowing full well that it couldn't be true. It had to be an act. He'd met her eyes for what felt like hours before he finally gave way and broke into a grin. "No, not really. But it's your favorite book, I'd wager."

"False."

This was followed by another staring contest, which she'd grudgingly conceded. Her unruly smile had given her away. "It's only one of my favorite books. There are several."

"I'll guess the others later. Don't you worry."

Later... She would question him later as to how he'd guessed anything about her at all, having known her for less than fifteen minutes. That would be their first topic of discussion next time they found themselves together, whether on camera or off.

There hadn't been time this morning. No time for anything but gaping incredulity at the situation in which she found herself. Whisked away on a honeymoon-for-two with a stranger. A total stranger, she reminded herself firmly. A model with perfect abs beneath his lint-less t-shirts, who did a convincing impersonation of a semi-literate person.

They'd reached the front of the line before she could ask another question. There'd been time for nothing but a few more hasty directions from him to her, once they'd cleared the x-ray machines and run to catch their plane.

"Are you with me, Miss Elizabeth?" He'd laid it out in hasty strokes in between panted breaths. "I'm pride... You're prejudice... You'd sooner go partnerless than dance with the likes of me."

She'd shot him the most withering look she could muster while mid-sprint. "That shouldn't be too much of a stretch, Mr. Darcy."

"We wouldn't want you to strain yourself," he told her drily as they pulled up to the gate with ten minutes to spare.

And that had been the last full sentence he had uttered to her all day. He'd directed his attention to the producers, who hadn't been expecting either of them to show. Then he'd slept on the flight and ignored her on the transfer to the boat marina where their sea taxi was docked. He'd shrugged a lofty shrug and walked a half foot in front of her when the camera people attempted to capture footage of them rolling their luggage down the pier.

Cora didn't take it personally. All part of the reality they'd chosen to present. She'd read the book a dozen times and seen every film adaptation ever made. Jamie had chosen Pride & Prejudice for a reason. It was a classic romance trope. Enemies to lovers.

Mel still had one more question, cutting into Cora's thoughts. "So you're not looking forward to spending time alone with Jamie. Not even a teeny tiny little bit?"

Cora pasted on a smile. "I'd sooner spend a month in forced proximity with a toad."

Behind the camera, she heard Cameron give a giggle.

Jamie had been right. She could play this part. Not too much of a stretch. At least not the beginning of story...

Cora only had one other question, which she hadn't thought to ask in the mad rush for their flight. The trope was called enemies to lovers. Exactly how far into the storyline was he expecting her to lean?

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