Free Once a Rebel... by Nikki Logan

delivering.
    This was pretty clever. But he wasn’t about to give her that just yet.
    ‘I hope they’re not expecting me to haul containers?’
    She nudged him bodily. ‘Come on, Leonidas, I’ve seen your muscles.’
    And that was all it took. An unexpected bit of full body contact and he was totally on board with this crazy plan. He stared at the
Delphi Paxos
and worked hard to ignore the tingling place in his arm where the curve of her breast had just brushed. ‘As long as I can get a satellite signal then I can keep the shareholders happy for the week I’ll be away.’
    She glanced up at him. ‘I know it’s not the Ritz—’
    Oh, honey, it’s not even The Ritz’s off-site warehouse.
    ‘—but it’s a virtually free ride to New Zealand and it puts two ticks in boxes.’
    Ticks in boxes. Right. Everything was about the boxes with her. How had he forgotten?
    She set off across the dock tarmac, pausing to let a kamikaze forklift whizz by. They reached the bottom of a long skinny gangplank. Shirley ground to a halt just in front of him. He peered around her to check her expression.
    ‘I just … urn …’ she muttered.
    He stepped around her and looked at her fronton. ‘You okay?’
    She took a deep breath. ‘It’s stupid …’
    This whole thing was stupid but it meant something to her so here they were. ‘What is?’
    ‘I’ve never been on a boat. It looks so much bigger from here.’
    Uh-oh. ‘Never?’
    She shook her head. ‘Only river ferries.’
    ‘Well, that’s exciting then.’ God loved an optimist. Yet the hint of vulnerability certainly wasn’t
un
appealing.
    She chewed her lip and raised her eyes up the side of the enormous hull. ‘I hope so.’
    ‘Once you’re up there it won’t look so big. I promise.’
    But he couldn’t promise what a novice would make of the pitch and roll of the Tasman Sea. Her clever solution wasn’t going to look too great when she was face down over a toilet bowl for four days. Or the bow of the ship.
    He took her hand and drew her upwards. Took astep. Then another. She followed him up the long skinny gangplank. They were met at the top by a smiling man who greeted them in heavily accented English.
    ‘Welcome to ship!’
    He glanced around at the heavy fittings, the utilitarian paint job. Yup, definitely a working vessel. But it did at least look solid. And clean. And much less daunting from on deck for his suddenly nervous novice.
    Their crew member told them in broken English that Immigration would come through before the ship was cleared for departure and to have their passports ready, and to stay in their cabin until they’d been cleared.
    Amongst so many mispronunciations, that little one slipped him right by.
    At least until the man flung a small door wide and cheerfully announced, ‘Room!’
    The cabin was tiny but it had two neat beds in it. Skinny single beds. Shirley looked at the seaman sideways. ‘Whose room?’
    ‘Yes. Your room.’
    ‘But which? Mine or his?’
    The lines on his weathered face multiplied. Shirley grew dangerously still and the man started babbling in his own tongue. It was Greek. Greatly evolved from the ancient Greek Hayden had studied during his classical units, but close enough.
    He stepped in and fumbled his way to offering to help in classical Greek. The man instantly refocusedon the closest approximation to his own language in the room.
    ‘How many cabins did you book?’ he said quickly to Shirley.
    ‘Two. Of course, two.’ Furious colour crept ever higher.
    He did his best to communicate the dilemma. The crewman nodded and shot back in rapid-fire Greek.
    ‘I think he’s agreeing with you.’ The man held up two fingers. ‘Two.’
    ‘Damn right he is …’ Shirley started to fan her hot face with her passport.
    The crewman picked up Hayden’s suitcase and placed it on the foot of the bed and then he picked up Shirley’s and walked out of the room with it, crossed the tiny hallway and opened a door there to