Rough Cut by Owen Carey Jones Page B

seat at the back of the fly bridge, Jacques outlined the itinerary for the day to her. While he spoke, he examined her closely. He was trying not to be too obvious about this but it was clear that he found her very attractive.
       “That all sounds great. I’m really looking forward to the day,” said Eloise when he had finished. “Oh, one more thing, Jeremy has asked me to invite you and Yvonne to join us for dinner at our hotel afterwards, if you can?”
       Jacques was surprised by the invitation but he hid it well. “Yes, I would like that very much,” he said, “but Yvonne will not be able to come as she will have to return home to close the gallery.”
       “The gallery?”
       “Yvonne runs a gallery in Sainte Pierre, where she lives. It’s a little village up in the mountains. There is a woman, her cousin, who looks after the place when she’s not there but she likes to close up herself and lock the day’s takings away in the evening. But I will be able to accept your invitation.”
       “But…” Eloise paused and Jacques waited for her to go on, “doesn’t Yvonne work for you? Isn’t she your crew?”
       Jacques laughed. “No, no. Yvonne is my sister. She doesn’t work for me. She does this for me as a favour.”
       A flicker of excitement crossed Eloise’s face as she spoke. “Oh, I see. I thought maybe she was your girlfriend.”
       Eloise smiled and gazed into Jacques’ eyes as he gazed into hers. The narrowing space between their faces was alive with unspoken messages, ones they both understood perfectly.
       The spell was broken by Jeremy’s voice as he climbed the steps to the fly bridge. “What are you two doing all alone up here?” he said as his head appeared.
       Jacques and Eloise pulled away from each other sharply and it was Eloise who spoke first, after clearing her throat.
       “We’ve just been going through the plans for the day,” she said, “Everything is fine. It’s going to be a super day.” Eloise and Jacques rose simultaneously from the seat.
       “Good,” said Jeremy, “Our guests should be arriving soon. Could you greet them for me as they come on board?”
       “Yes, of course,” replied Eloise.
       Followed by Jacques, Eloise went down the steps to the aft deck where Yvonne and Anna were talking about the recipes for some of the canapés.
       Before long the guests started to arrive and by a quarter to eleven the Esprit was under way, leaving the harbour of Sainte Maxime behind her. Although there had been nearly a hundred people at the conference the day before, only eleven carefully selected customers and potential customers had been invited on the boat trip. The eleven guests who now milled around on the aft deck were a disparate bunch ranging from a quite attractive and vivacious woman in her early thirties to a grossly overweight middle aged man who would spend most of the trip leering at both Yvonne and Eloise.
       Once clear of the harbour, Jacques opened up the throttles and the Esprit began to plane over the sea at her full cruising speed. Several of the guests made their way up to the fly bridge to make the most of the view, while others remained on the aft deck and a few went into the saloon.
       After two hours of cruising along the French coast and during which the guests and their hosts enjoyed Yvonne’s sumptuous buffet and several bottles of good French wine, the Esprit de Jacques rounded a headland and Monte Carlo came into view. It was a beautiful sight with the palace high up on the promontory and boats of all shapes and sizes moored in the harbour. Behind the boats, skyscrapers rose up, silhouetted against the majestic dark form of the mountains.
       With the assistance of Yvonne, Jacques moored the Esprit on the west side of the harbour, near the pink apartment blocks which line the road at that point. The little party would need to walk halfway round the harbour in order to reach the bars and