each honeymoon night, and a pair of strappy high-heeled sandals Sarita couldn’t resist.
When they returned to the Glory , Sarita remembered the planned Phagwa celebration. She hurried to the galley and examined the contents of the freezer.
Austen bustled in as she closed the appliance’s door.
“What’s wrong, lovey? Why are you frowning?”
“We need to stock up. Austen, have you ever done a clambake? A real one? You know -- the hole in the sand and coals bit?”
“You’re talking to a Maine native, missy. I can do things with a lobster that’d make your head spin.”
“I’m not sure what that last part implies and I refuse to go there. Think we can source all the ingredients for one here?”
“Are you kidding? We're in Monte Carlo, luxury capital of the world. I can pick up everything easily. I’m guessing you’re planning that for tonight?”
“Yes. Since we’re going to be lighting a bonfire anyway, it would work out well.”
The Bosun checked his multifaceted diver’s watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better head out right away.”
“I’ll come with you. I want to pick up a few supplies.”
Shopping for a meal and preparing it always calmed her down. Sarita returned to the Glory humming, her earlier morning panic forgotten. Sarita and Austen deposited the groceries on the galley’s counter and she went to her cabin for a quick shower and change.
Rolan found her sitting on the floor of the galley surrounded by burlap bags.
“What on earth are you doing?”
She glanced up and answered, “Making the powder for Phagwa tonight.”
He stooped and his lips lifted at the corners. “You’ve got red, yellow, and brown stuff all over your face.” Eyes angling down, he continued, “Your neck, your hands, and even your feet are covered, too.”
“It’s difficult not to get it everywhere. That’s why I’m wearing old clothes.” She dipped her eyes to her torso. “I’m almost finished. This is the last thing I have to do.”
The Glory engines roared to life and the yacht rocked.
His eyes flew up. “I guess we’re off. Terry says it’s a short ride to the private beach. Why don’t you change into a bathing suit and we’ll dive into the water when we get there. It’ll be easier than trying to get that stuff off in a shower.”
“I’d planned on doing exactly that.” She stirred a navy-hued powder with a wooden spoon and slanted him a mischievous glance. “You don’t know what you’re in for tonight, Rolan Paxton. Every year your son mixes the Phagwa powder with water and fills balloons with the liquid. Then he goes hunting. One year, it took me two days to get the stains off my skin.”
“It sounds like an adult water-gun party. Now, if only you could add something sweet to it, then I’d offer to lick it all off.”
Two sentences and bantering amusement morphed into a sexual heat so dense, she could almost taste it.
“On second thought, maybe we should take this down to my cabin. We never did have that bath together.”
Tony skidded into the room. He halted inches away from a sack. “Aw Mom, you did it without me. You know I like to make the PP with you.”
“PP?”
“Paghwa powder, Dad. Gotcha, didn’t I?” Tony’s grin went from ear to ear.
“Watch it, buddy.” Rolan cuffed his son’s shoulder.
She loved watching their interplay, the obvious affection between them. A coal-sized lump formed in her throat.
Tony squatted in front of the open bags. He picked up a handful of reddish brown kernels.
“What are these things?” Rolan asked, jutting a chin at the seeds and ground spices in the burlap. “Smells like…” He sniffed a couple of times. “Lemons.”
“Lime. You smell the lime in the kumkum over there,” she said, pointing. “It’s turmeric mixed with slaked lime. Turmeric’s normally yellow, but the lime turns it red.”
“This one’s neem,” Tony answered, displaying a handful of kernels in his open palm.
She pointed. “That
When they returned to the Glory , Sarita remembered the planned Phagwa celebration. She hurried to the galley and examined the contents of the freezer.
Austen bustled in as she closed the appliance’s door.
“What’s wrong, lovey? Why are you frowning?”
“We need to stock up. Austen, have you ever done a clambake? A real one? You know -- the hole in the sand and coals bit?”
“You’re talking to a Maine native, missy. I can do things with a lobster that’d make your head spin.”
“I’m not sure what that last part implies and I refuse to go there. Think we can source all the ingredients for one here?”
“Are you kidding? We're in Monte Carlo, luxury capital of the world. I can pick up everything easily. I’m guessing you’re planning that for tonight?”
“Yes. Since we’re going to be lighting a bonfire anyway, it would work out well.”
The Bosun checked his multifaceted diver’s watch. “It’s getting late. I’d better head out right away.”
“I’ll come with you. I want to pick up a few supplies.”
Shopping for a meal and preparing it always calmed her down. Sarita returned to the Glory humming, her earlier morning panic forgotten. Sarita and Austen deposited the groceries on the galley’s counter and she went to her cabin for a quick shower and change.
Rolan found her sitting on the floor of the galley surrounded by burlap bags.
“What on earth are you doing?”
She glanced up and answered, “Making the powder for Phagwa tonight.”
He stooped and his lips lifted at the corners. “You’ve got red, yellow, and brown stuff all over your face.” Eyes angling down, he continued, “Your neck, your hands, and even your feet are covered, too.”
“It’s difficult not to get it everywhere. That’s why I’m wearing old clothes.” She dipped her eyes to her torso. “I’m almost finished. This is the last thing I have to do.”
The Glory engines roared to life and the yacht rocked.
His eyes flew up. “I guess we’re off. Terry says it’s a short ride to the private beach. Why don’t you change into a bathing suit and we’ll dive into the water when we get there. It’ll be easier than trying to get that stuff off in a shower.”
“I’d planned on doing exactly that.” She stirred a navy-hued powder with a wooden spoon and slanted him a mischievous glance. “You don’t know what you’re in for tonight, Rolan Paxton. Every year your son mixes the Phagwa powder with water and fills balloons with the liquid. Then he goes hunting. One year, it took me two days to get the stains off my skin.”
“It sounds like an adult water-gun party. Now, if only you could add something sweet to it, then I’d offer to lick it all off.”
Two sentences and bantering amusement morphed into a sexual heat so dense, she could almost taste it.
“On second thought, maybe we should take this down to my cabin. We never did have that bath together.”
Tony skidded into the room. He halted inches away from a sack. “Aw Mom, you did it without me. You know I like to make the PP with you.”
“PP?”
“Paghwa powder, Dad. Gotcha, didn’t I?” Tony’s grin went from ear to ear.
“Watch it, buddy.” Rolan cuffed his son’s shoulder.
She loved watching their interplay, the obvious affection between them. A coal-sized lump formed in her throat.
Tony squatted in front of the open bags. He picked up a handful of reddish brown kernels.
“What are these things?” Rolan asked, jutting a chin at the seeds and ground spices in the burlap. “Smells like…” He sniffed a couple of times. “Lemons.”
“Lime. You smell the lime in the kumkum over there,” she said, pointing. “It’s turmeric mixed with slaked lime. Turmeric’s normally yellow, but the lime turns it red.”
“This one’s neem,” Tony answered, displaying a handful of kernels in his open palm.
She pointed. “That
Similar Books
