Chapter 14 ~ pg 301
The two women lounged in deck chairs on the stern; golden skin glowing where their bikinis didn’t cover and smelling of coconut oil, soaking in the rays of the Pacific Ocean sun. Half her attention given to the fashion magazine she read, Amanda turned the page and pointed out the coming Autumn line of shoes being advertised to Katriona with an inquisitive sound.
Stretched out across the padded bench of the ‘Signora Fortuna’s’ stern, Kendall lazily played his Hawaiian Decoupage singing softly in his pleasant tenor and ignoring his wife’s occasional teasing poke at his thigh. “You are still the one -- that makes me shout/ Still the one -- that I dream about / We're still having fun, and you're still the one / You're still the one, yeah still the one / We're still having fun, and you're still the one…”*
Finishing the tune, his aimless strumming turned to another, changing a few words to fit the afternoon. “Nibblin' on sponge cake/ watchin' the sun bake/ All of these ladies covered with oil/ Strummin' my six string on* the back fantail/ Smell those shrimp--They're beginnin' to boil.”**
“That reminds me, lunch should be ready soon,” Amanda commented before taking a sip of her Margarita the steward had left on the table between the chaises. Returning the glass to rest on the small table beside her she tried ignoring the item wrapped in the hand towel trying not to think of what they were going to do soon with the exquisite piece.
“Wastin' away again in Margaritaville, Kendall sang, “Searchin' for my long lost shaker of salt/ Some people claim that there's a woman to blame,” he grinned, nudging Katriona with a toe and winking at her as he continued, “But I know - it's nobody's fault.”
“Don't know the reason/ Stayed here all season/ With nothing to show but this brand new tattoo/ But it's a real beauty/ An Irish cutie,” he grinned waggling his brows comically. How it got here/ I haven't a clue.
“He’s got a tattoo?” Amanda inquired of Katriona, smirking, “Where? I certainly can’t see it.”
“Not that I know of and I’ve seen the whole of him,” the redhead turned her head out of the chaise to speak to Amanda over the singing behind her.
“Wastin' away again in Margaritaville/ Searchin' for my lost shaker of salt/ Some people claim that there's a woman to blame/ Now I think,-- hell it could be my fault,” The singing man rolled his eyes and threw his head back at the thought while he sang the line.
“Oh, I don’t blame you, Luv.” Katriona murmured sleepily into the chaise, lazily waving her hand to brush his thigh. “I rather like you, too.”