“Sure,” Emily said. “You got it. Storm, let’s go get everything ready. We’ll be getting underway soon.”
When the crew had left him, Davis went to the bow of the Coriolis and stared out at the scenery, but the beauty of the morning did nothing to calm his nerves. He could still feel his heart pounding—from the thrill of the view high atop the mast as much as from Jordan’s anger. He wished he could go to Jordan—comfort her, tell her he deserved all her bitterness and more. He wished he could tell her how sorry he was that it was going to end like this. But he knew Jordan wouldn’t want to hear it. All he could do was console himself with the view that surrounded him, searching the seascape for the answer to his question: where was Davis Steen’s life going next?
16
“Jordy?” Emily’s voice called softly through the cabin door. “You in there?”
Of course I’m in here, Jordan thought peevishly. Where else would I be?
She knew the moment she heard Emily’s voice that she was in for a tongue-lashing. Granted, Emily only ever offered the gentlest of scoldings, but it would be a scolding nonetheless. They had been best friends nearly their whole lives, and Jordan had never known Emily to hold back when harsh words were deserved. And Jordan well knew that she deserved a thorough bitching-out. She had let all her bottled-up feelings about Davis get the better of her, and she’d made herself look like a fool—and had behaved far less professionally just now, yelling at Davis over a total non-issue—than she’d behaved when she’d stripped naked in his cabin.
With a contrite sigh, Jordan opened her cabin door. She flopped back on her berth quickly, before she could see Emily’s face, and pulled a pillow over her own face, hiding from the disapproval she knew she would see in her friend’s eyes.
“Smother me with this pillow,” she told Emily. “Captain’s orders. Put me out of my misery.”
Emily laughed gently, stretching out on the bunk next to Jordan. “I can’t smother you. Storm and I are both terrible at steering this huge-ass boat. We need you to get us back to Griffin Bay.”
“Then throw me overboard as soon as we get back to the marina.”
“That won’t do much good. There aren’t any man-eating sharks in the Salish Sea.”
Jordan couldn’t help smiling a little into her pillow, though mortification still buzzed along her nerves, throbbing all the way down to her toenails. “Maybe the harbor seals will take mercy on me, and chew me to bits.”
Emily pulled Jordan’s pillow away. She lay on her side, head propped up on one hand. After a moment of expectant silence, Jordan turned on the berth, too, lying face to face with Emily. She sniffled miserably, but she was grateful for her friend’s comfort.
“What’s going on?” Emily asked.
Jordan gritted her teeth. “I just…” No more words would come.
As much as she loved Emily, as much as she trusted her, Jordan couldn’t tell her the truth. Wouldn’t it surprise the hell out of her her, to know how spontaneous I can actually be when I put my mind to it!
But Jordan just couldn’t admit she’d had sex with Davis. Twice! She knew Emily wouldn’t lose any respect for her—Em wasn’t the judgmental type—but Jordan wasn’t entirely sure she respected herself now. It wasn’t the sex that made her feel that way. It was the way she reacted to Davis—to his cocky, unflappable, self-assured rich-and-famousness. It was what Davis represented to Jordan—every infuriating client who had ever treated her like a peon, a less-than, a know-nothing kid who had no business skippering her own boat.
Why had she gotten herself entangled with that? Just because Davis was hot? Scorchingly hot… and irresistible, with his confident, swaggering attitude… and so incredible in bed it made her knees feel like Jell-O even as she lay on her berth.
But that confusing welter of emotions, clouding her thoughts and shortening her temper whenever Davis was near, wasn’t even the worst of it. The truth was, Jordan was shocked by the depth of her own feelings toward Davis. It scared her, how badly she craved his touch, his kisses—and the rest of him, too. It angered her, the way his warm, luscious smell could distract her even while she was at the helm, while she was doing what she loved most in tall the world.
He shouldn’t get to occupy this much space in my head or my heart. He’s just some rich prick, just some arrogant jerk who used me for a good time. And I let him do it, like a sucker. Twice.
Davis wasn’t a man who respected her, who even liked her. He didn’t deserve all these warm, fuzzy feelings Jordan had for him—quite against her will, of course. But no matter how much Jordan told herself that Davis was undeserving, there was no denying the feelings were there all the same… lurking in the most neglected corners of her heart.
Finally, as Emily’s patient silence stretched on, Jordan took a deep breath and said, “I just don’t like Davis, Em. That’s all.”
“I know you don’t.” Emily gave a bemused little laugh. “I just can’t figure out why. He’s such a nice guy!”
“Ha. He is not a nice guy. He’s just like all the other charter clients—demanding, rude, pushy—”
“But Jordan, he’s so not! This client is different. Storm and I have gotten to know him over the course of this trip, and we both like him a lot. Can’t you trust our judgment?” Emily’s big, blue eyes were pleading. It only made Jordan feel all the worse—more confused, more mistrustful of her own feelings.
“I have to trust my own judgment on stuff like this,” she said gently.
And her own judgment—every pulse-pounding instinct in her body—told her that Davis was the most desirable man she had ever met in her life. And the things he did to her in the confines of his cabin… Ruthlessly, she suppressed a shiver of bliss, afraid Emily would see it and know what it meant.
“You know,” Emily said stoutly, and Jordan thought, Here it comes. “You are really stiff-necked sometimes.”
She laughed weakly “Only sometimes?”
“If you could just loosen up a little bit—just let go of some of this negativity and try to like Davis as much as Storm and I do—I think you’ll find a lot of good in him.”
I’ve already loosened up enough, thanks.
Jordan tried to pull the pillow back over her face, but Emily caught it and tossed it out of reach. “And you really do need to apologize to him,” Emily added.
“I know.”
“You may be on the verge of shutting down Sea Wolf Charters, but until that happens for sure, you’ve still got a reputation to worry about. With all due respect, Captian… what you did was pretty unprofessional.”
“You’re right,” Jordan said at once. She was fully prepared to accept blame for the yelling incident. “I do owe him an apology, but I kind of think I’d rather gouge out my own eyeballs with a spoon than admit to a rich, famous rock star that I acted like a total jerk.”
Emily smiled. “Don’t worry; he’ll accept your apology like a normal, humble human being.”
“I don’t think Davis Steen knows the meaning of the word humble.”
“I think he knows a lot more than you give him credit for. He won’t rub it in your face—you’ll see. He’ll be cool about it. And regardless, you know an apology is just the right thing to do.”
Jordan bit her lip, but said nothing. Emily’s words might as well have been Jordan’s dad’s words. Or her mom’s… or the words of any of her five brothers and sisters. The Griffin family was big on integrity. Jordan had fallen down in that particular arena, and she felt an uncomfortable squeeze in her chest, the pressure of her whole, big family expecting her to do the right thing—waiting for her to make it right, to own up to her mistake. Doing the right thing was practically the Griffin code of honor. She couldn’t shake her need to at least try to make amends, any more than she could change the color of her eyes.
“I have an idea,” Emily said suddenly. “What if we leave the boat anchored for the day? Aunt Susan’s little get-away cabin is just on the other side of this island. Storm and I coul
d take the tender and stay in the cabin tonight, and leave you and Davis here to—”
“No,” Jordan blurted.
“Hear me out.”
“No way.”
Emily ignored Jordan’s frantic protest. “We could stay this last night at the cabin and let you and Davis have some time to hang out—to get to know each other.”
Good God! We’ve already gotten to know each other enough, believe me!
“It’ll give you plenty of time to talk things out privately, so you can make amends properly. Then there’ll be no danger of word getting out that you had a… a little incident with a client.”
Jordan blushed, knotting her fingers together so she couldn’t clap her hands to her face in mortification. Oh, Em, if only you knew what kind of incidents I’ve had with this client. I’m pretty sure your head would explode.
“You’ll get to know Davis that way,” Emily went on, “and you’ll see what Storm and I mean. He’s not as bad as you think.”
Jordan squinted at Emily. “This is a somewhat unusual plan. Why do I feel like you must have an ulterior motive?”
Emily shrugged. “Maybe I do. A little bit. Aside from the fact that I just plain like Davis, and want you to like him, too, maybe I suspect that if you get to know him—as a real person, not as just another spoiled-rich client—you’ll have a bit more sympathy for your clients in general, and you’ll want to continue on with Sea Wolf Charters.”
Jordan groaned and rolled onto her back. “I really don’t think that’s going to happen, Em. I’m sorry.”
“Well, a girl can dream. Storm and I really like our jobs, and we want to keep sailing for you if we can. If we can get you to think more fondly of Davis Steen, Prince of Blasting Speakers Lord of the Inappropriate Dance, maybe this crazy charter gig can keep going for at least another year. Or two. Or twenty.”
Jordan sighed. She did want to mend things with Davis—as much as she could. It had been terribly inappropriate to blow up at him; it wasn’t what a good captain should do, and it sure wasn’t what a member of the Griffin family would do. But a whole day and night alone with him? What might happen between them?
Wild hope, and feared that was just as unruly, flared in her chest, making her cheeks burn. They might end up in one another’s arms again—and Jordan wasn’t sure whether she welcomed that possibility or not. Her attraction to him was magnetic, impossible to deny. Jordan hated that she couldn’t resist him, hated how badly she still wanted him even though she knew he had used her. Most of all, she hated how the memory of his touch still burned everywhere on her skin… how she could still feel his presence even in the privacy of her cabin.
No one should be able to distract me this way—to control me this way.
She hated Davis for the power he held over her body and her heart. The thought that in two days they’d part company and never see one another again was a relief to her—and a torment so great she thought she might suffocate under the weight of her longing.
Maybe one more time alone together would be a good thing, after all. Even if nothing happened between them—and Jordan was determined to make sure it wouldn’t—she could at least learn something about Davis’s personality. If she was going to be haunted by the memory of his gorgeous body all the rest of her days, Jordan at least wanted to retain a few positive associations, aside from how hot the sex had been. She wanted to find something in Davis to like, not just to lust after.
“Okay,” she finally said. “I’ll agree to anchor here… if it’s what Davis wants.”
Emily grinned and kissed Jordan’s forehead. “I’ll go talk to him. You wait here.”
17
Despite her resolve to get to know Davis on their last day together, Jordan found herself unable to face him—too embarrassed by her outburst of anger, and too frightened of her looming sadness that soon he would be gone for good. Instead of spending any time with him, she had spent the whole day sequestered in her cabin, reading books and trying to avoid Davis as if he carried the black plague. She did her best to keep her mind off him, too… but knowing that they were alone on the boat together for the third time wracked her body with shivers of longing and made her heart beat frantically with the need to resist his pull.
She had listened with rapt intensity as he moved quietly about the boat, coming and going from the deck or helping himself to the food in the galley’s small fridge. But not once did she hear his pumping music. Davis seemed to have found some peace after all, and was enjoying the silence—a change Jordan never would have believed if she weren’t hearing it for herself.
As the sun sank lower in the western sky, Jordan finished the last of her paperbacks. She tossed the book into her locker with a sigh of defeat. Now she had no more excuse to stay hidden away. She really needed to stretch her legs and back, anyway. Her body was cramped and aching, and her long lack of movement made her feel crabby and gross. There was nothing for it: she had to go up to the boat’s deck. She just hoped any conversation Davis started wouldn’t feel too unbearably awkward.
As she cracked open her cabin door, Joran smelled something delicious wafting from the galley. Her stomach rumbled. Davis must have made himself dinner; Jordan would soon need to fix a meal of her own, since she had read straight through lunch.
She peered around the interior of the Coriolis, but Davis was nowhere to be seen. Maybe he was eating in his cabin—against Jordan’s rules, but if it kept her from having an uncomfortable conversation with Davis, she was prepared to forgive him.
Quietly, on bare feet, Jordan snuck through the boat’s interior to the ladder. The hatch above was open to the sky, which was tinted in the rosy blush of the approaching sunset. Jordan eased herself up the ladder—and stopped dead.
The little portable table was set up in the cockpit, just as it had been on their first night of the voyage. Davis lounged on the cockpit’s bench on one side of the table, his arms spread casually behind him along the deck’s edge, one ankle propped on his knee. He was watching the sunset with an air of perfect peace. Jordan’s eyes flicked from his face to the table. Davis had laid out two place settings, complete with wine glasses, half-filled with a dark red. He had even found a couple of tea lights in the galley’s junk drawer. They were lit, the small flames dancing, adding their tiny, fitful lights to the glow of the sunset.
Jordan froze halfway up the ladder, staring.
“Hey,” Davis said nonchalantly. He leaned forward, lifted the lid from a pot he’d set on a trivet, and stirred the contents. The pot steamed, and Jordan’s stomach growled loudly.
Davis smiled at her. It wasn’t the cocky grin Jordan had grown so accustomed to over the past nine days. The soft vulnerability on his face, the air of friendly welcome, almost made her like Davis. Almost.
Jordan licked her lips and tried to avoid looking at the two plates, empty and waiting. “You… you made me dinner?”
“Of course. You’re not the only one who can cook, you know. Though I’m afraid dinner isn’t very exciting tonight. I just boiled some of that pre-made, pre-packaged mushroom ravioli and opened a jar of sauce. The salad was already washed and cut up, too. So… maybe you are the only one who can cook, after all.”
Jordan gave a small, reluctant laugh. “Thanks. That was really nice of you.”
He gestured to the seat across from his own. “Care to join me?”
Jordan climbed out of the hatch and went to the bench opposite Davis. She sat slowly, not daring to meet his eye. “Listen, Davis… I really need to apologize to you. I’m sorry I yelled at you this morning. It was so—”
“It’s water under the bridge,” he said as he dished up the ravioli. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I will worry about it. I’ve behaved so unprofessionally this whole trip.”
He raised his eyebrows and his smile turned from friendly to wolfish. “I won’t file a complaint with the Better Business Bureau, if that’s what you’re worried about. Promise.”
She shook her head
, laughing, then stuffed some of the ravioli in her mouth. “I hope not. I’m pretty sure I’d lose my captain’s license. Oh my god, this is so good. I was starving. I’ve just been so confused about everything that’s happened… everything we’ve done. It’s not like me. And now here we are, alone again… and you’ve even sprung a candlelight dinner on me.”
“This candlelight dinner is of the no-obligation variety, I swear. This is all I want—just to share a meal with you. Though conversation would be nice, too.” He poked at his salad with his fork for a moment, then said slowly, “I think I need to apologize to you, too. You’re your own woman, Jordan, I know that—you’re in control of yourself. But I still feel a little badly for… pushing you. Or leading you. Whatever you want to call it. If you were unprofessional, it was at least half my fault. I egged you on and made you go beyond your comfort zone. And I’m really sorry I compromised your values that way.”
“You are?” She’d never heard anybody talk about her values this way. Usually her rigid self-control was the subject of good-natured jokes among her family and friends. But nobody had ever treated Jordan’s quirk as a trait to be honored and respected. A warm flush crept along her limbs. Maybe Davis was likeable, after all.
“I really think it’s great that you take life so seriously,” he said, “that you know where you’re going, and you follow your star.” He gazed off at the islands, silent and thoughtful. At last he said, “That’s something I wish I could do. I really, really wish I could do it.”
“What do you mean? You have this amazing career—I mean, you’re world-famous! How did you get where you are now, if not by following your dreams?”
“Oh, that’s what got me here. Kind of.” He took a long swallow from his wine glass. “I think.”
Jordan laughed softly. “I don’t follow you at all.”
“I wanted to be a big-time musician since I was a kid… in spite of my parents’ protests. But the truth is, I never really worked for this. I never had a game plan; I never struggled or worried about my career, until now. The Local Youths lucked out; that’s how we got as big as we did. We happened to play in the right places at the right times. We happened to put the right demos up on the right web sites at just the right moments. Everything fell so neatly into place for us that it seemed natural that we’d make it to the top of the heap. And once we did, and other bands with better business plans and more strategic approaches to the industry started to edge us out.”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 109