“But you’re still a big deal.”
“Big-ish… for now. But the other guys in the band can see what direction the wind’s blowing. They’ve all lined up other gigs—safety nets. And here I am, on a ten-day mission to figure out what my next career move should be, and I’ve got nothing. No idea whatsoever. No plan, no safety net… and no idea how to begin making one.”
“Wow,” she said. “I didn’t realize you were facing such a big hurdle.”
“If I had your talent for identifying what I want in life, and then sticking to my goal like glue, I don’t think I’d be in this predicament. Or at least I’d have figured out my next move by now. But as it is, I’ve got to go back home tomorrow night and look Tyler in the eye, and tell him that in ten days of R&R, I never rested or relaxed once, and I have no clue what I should do about the downward swing of my career.”
Jordan set down her fork. Sympathy for Davis’s situation settled in her stomach and made her feel too stuffed to eat any more. “So what are you going to say to Tyler?”
Davis shrugged helplessly. “There’s nothing I can say to him—not anything he’ll like to hear. I don’t have my life figured out. I’ve got no idea what’s next. I should have used these ten days to figure myself out, but I ran from my problems and turned to distractions instead.”
“Distractions,” Jordan said archly, raising one brow.
“Pleasant distractions, for sure.” His crooked smile sent a thrill racing up Jordan’s back; she returned it shyly. “But I’m still in a bind. No plan, and no idea how to even start making one.”
“When I can’t figure out what I should do, I turn to my family for help.”
Davis’s smile shifted. Now it seemed rather sad. “It sounds like you have a really great family, Jordan. I can tell Storm thinks the world of you.”
She sipped from her wine glass. “I think the world of him. All of them. I’ve got five brothers and sister, and I know I can rely on them for anything, even if we are all as different as can be. And then there are all my cousins—Storm and his brothers and sisters, and my aunt Susan, who taught me how to sail…. And my mom and dad.” She stared off into the distance, seeing nothing of the islands—only her mother’s warm eyes and her father’s goofy, endearing grin. “You know, it’s kind of stupid to feel this way, but I miss them when I’m out on these trips. The summers have been hard on me since I started this business. Chartering was all I ever wanted, my only goal in life… but I work so much that I don’t get to see my family during the summer. We’re all getting older now—all going in different directions. I worry about all the things I’m missing out on. I’m afraid that we’ll all drift off in different directions, and leave each other behind.”
“You all sound so close, though. A family like that can’t just break apart.”
“I hope not.” Jordan’s throat burned. “It would break my heart if we did. I owe everything to them—all of them. They’ve been so supportive of my dreams. I love them all to death, and I always have, even when I’ve fought with my brothers and sisters, and even when my parents drove me absolutely nuts. However much you admire me for my business skills and my drive, Davis, I can tell you that I wouldn’t be who I am today without my family. They’re everything to me. I know they’ll always help me out if they can, and they’ll never give me bad advice when I’ve got a problem that needs solving. So that’s why I’d ask my family for help, if I were in a situation like yours.”
Davis absently stabbed a ravioli on his fork, then pushed it around and around in circles. “I’ve always wanted a family like yours. Big and warm and maybe a little bit rowdy, but full of love. What I’m stuck with instead doesn’t feel like much of a family to me. If I told my mom and dad that I was up against the wall career-wise, they’d just sniff and say ‘I told you so.’ They never wanted me to be a musician—said it was too unstable and unpredictable. And I guess they were right.”
Though Davis had donned his cool, uncaring rock star disguise, Jordan could hear the pain and defeat in his words. Impulsively, she reached across the table and took his hand. His blue eyes flashed up at her, startled but pleased.
“I’ve always felt like we can choose our families,” Jordan said. “I’m lucky that I was born into such a good one—I know how lucky I am, believe me. But we’re not suck with what life deals us at birth. We can decide who we’ll spend our time with, who will be important to us. We can make families of our own, if we want to. That’s what I think.”
Davis’s eyes shifted subtly, from startled and pleased to searching, intense. A stillness that felt weighty and significant came over him. Wondering if she’d said something wrong, Jordan thought back over her words. Then she blushed. Make families of our own.
“You know what I mean,” she said quickly, and stuffed her mouth with ravioli.
“Yeah,” Davis said. The rock star mask vanished; his warm smile—his genuine smile—returned. “I know what you mean.”
When they’d finished their supper, they both turned to the west, quiet and content as they watched the sun set. Jordan felt peaceful, comfortable, perfectly right on her boat, bobbing gently at anchor. She realized with sudden wonder that it wasn’t just the Coriolis that made her feel so good and whole. It wasn’t just sailing, or the perfect sunset, or the ethereal beauty of the islands.
It was Davis.
Being still and quiet with him—being happy with him—felt so natural and easy. In all the days of their voyage, Jordan had noticed plenty of times how gorgeous he was, how his voice and his smell made the blood race hot and fast in her veins. And that was to say nothing of his kisses, his touch, his body melding with her own. But she hadn’t noticed how pleasant he was. How nice. And she certainly had no clue until now how complicated this was. Beneath the carefully constructed front of the effortlessly cool, arrogant superstar, Davis struggled just like anyone else. She never would have suspected how deep his feelings ran—how he hurt over his parents’ rejection, how his honesty about his career made him so vulnerable, so human.
Emily was right, Jordan thought with expanding surprise. He is a nice guy. I just assumed he wasn’t, because he’s wealthy and famous. I was the judgmental jerk, not him.
Davis’s low, velvety voice broke into her mortified thoughts. “Are you really thinking about giving up your sailing business?”
Jordan sighed. “Yeah. I’m thinking about it. Like I told you, it gets so busy that I don’t see my family much, and I’m not sure I can be entirely happy without them in my life. But there are other reasons, too. Lots of reasons. Why?”
“You’re so good at it. I know I’ve only known you for a few days, but even so, I can’t imagine you doing anything but sailing. Sailing is a part of who you are. It’s like you were made for it. And you’re good at sailing charter boats too—good at planning trips and making sure everybody has a great time. In spite of my own pigheaded desire not to appreciate this trip, I find I am enjoying it after all.” His gaze transfixed her again. “A lot.”
Jordan’s face heated. She leaned back on her bench and stared past him, at the islands bluing in the approaching dusk. “I don’t know. It’s such a tough business. It’s so much work, and sometimes it makes me feel like I’m going crazy.”
“I think the best things in life are that way.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Jordan considered Davis for a long moment, taking in the broadness of his shoulders, the lean, strong muscles of his arms, the wind-tossed mess of his dark hair. He certainly made her feel like she was going crazy, between her furious resentment and her gripping desire. What was even crazier was the way she didn’t resent him anymore… not even a little bit. “Maybe I can learn to like chartering again. Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought when this trip started. Maybe the tide is turning for me, and everything will be okay.
“What about you, Davis? What would you do with your life, if you could do anything at all? Since you might be facing a change in your own wind and tides.”
“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I love music so much… it’s all I’ve ever wanted in a career. I’ve thought of a few other possibilities, and I could do those jobs if I had to, but none of them feels like me. But I’ve got to figure this out, and soon. That change is coming—fast.”
As the last fiery streaks faded in the western sky, Jordan headed down to the galley to wash the dishes. Davis retrieved his guitar from his cabin, and as she finished up the last of the pots, Jordan heard his soft strumming, drifting down from the bow of the Coriolis. She dried the final pot, hung it on its hook above the small range burners, then climbed up the ladder and leaned against the mouth of the hatch, watching Davis as he played.
His back was to her; he faced out over the water, as if he poured out his feelings through song into the waiting heart of the islands. His white t-shirt stood out pale against the violet dusk, and his dark head bent low, wearily, over the neck of his guitar. His voice was soft and sweet as it reached out across the water. It blended with the gentle harmonies of sea and sky and the hush of the oncoming night.
Drawn to his music, Jordan crept out of the hatch and moved quietly down the deck until she stood close to Davis’s side. She closed her eyes, savoring the poignant chords. They seemed to reverberate within her own chest, moving in a sweet rhythm with the beating of her heart.
Music is exactly what you should be doing, Davis, Jordan told him silently. This is what you were meant to do, no matter what your parents or your manager or anyone else says.
An abrupt, hollow puff sounded from somewhere nearby. Jordan opened her eyes just as Davis stopped playing. Several more loud puffs sounded, and Jordan pointed out over the bow. “Look!”
A pod of orca whales broke the water’s sleepy surface, not ten yards away from the Coriolis. As they rose, each one let out a loud exhalation; their mingled breaths hung in a mist over the water, glowing faintly in the first rays of moonlight. The whales’ black backs and dorsal fins emerged, glided within view, then slipped under the surface again, leaving nothing in their wake but quiet ripples distorting the reflection of emerging stars.
Davis shook his head. “Holy…”
“I know,” Jordan said quietly.
“This place is so amazing. I don’t ever want to leave the islands.”
Jordan looked up at him solemnly, a sudden, desperate longing filling her chest and stinging in her eyes. I don’t want you to leave, either. But Davis had a clear future waiting for him back in Seattle. He just didn’t see it yet.
“You have to go back,” she said, surprised how the words choked her voice, and more surprised at the pain they raised in Davis’s eyes. “You’re so good at this.” She trailed her fingers along the curve of his guitar. It was smooth as glass, and still seemed to vibrate faintly with the memory of his chords.
“But it’s over,” he said. “My career is over—or it will be soon.”
“No. It can’t be—not for someone as talented as you. I’m not the fan Emily is, but I’ve heard a few of your band’s songs. The sound is so raw, so loud and thrashy.”
He smiled. “Yeah, it is.”
“But this… what you were playing just now. It’s different. There’s a power in that sound that I’ve never heard before, but it’s a different kind of power. It doesn’t make me want to dance, like your Local Youths songs. It makes me want to…” Cry. Laugh. Feel. She couldn’t say the words that crowded in her throat. There were too many of them, too many emotions struggling to get out at once, vying for expression, just like the gentle but powerful words of his song. It makes me want to kiss you. It makes me never want to leave you.
“Just me? Me and one guitar?”
“Why not? You sound amazing!” Better than amazing. When he played alone, Davis sent a chill up her spine and lit a fire in her heart, all at the same time. “Why can’t you just strike out on your own—do a solo act? Paul McCartney did it, right?”
He laughed quietly. “That’s a little different. He was a Beatle! He could have done anything and the whole industry would have eaten it up.”
“But you can’t just give up music, Davis. You have to try. I’m sure it’ll be hard to reinvent yourself as an acoustic solo artist, but my God, it’s clearly what you were meant to do!”
“Just like you were meant to sail,” he said softly.
Jordan swallowed hard. “Maybe.”
Davis didn’t say anything, but he looked deeply into her eyes for so long that Jordan could practically feel him making confession after confession, telling her every one of his most closely held secrets.
Finally he whispered, “I really want to kiss you again.”
“Then do it,” Jordan said before she could think, before she could talk herself out of one last night in Davis’s arms.
18
Davis’s kiss sent currents of electricity through Jordan’s body. Her heart pounded as his tongue slowly explored her mouth. Without breaking from the kiss, he fumbled his guitar down onto the boat’s deck. Then his hands slid up her back, pulling her close until their bodies pressed hard against one another. Even that didn’t feel close enough to satisfy Jordan. She wanted to touch more of him, to feel every bit of his presence at once. She wanted to inhabit the same space he did, breathe the same air. She wanted to be so much a part of him that there was no telling where she ended and Davis began.
She ran her hands up his arms, under the sleeves of his t-shirt, stroking the firm, hard shapes of his muscular shoulders and biceps. His skin was warm and smooth. He made a sound deep in his throat, half sigh of longing, half growl of self-restraint. Then he pulled back slightly and looked down at her.
Jordan could see the question in his eyes. She nodded.
Hand in hand, they made their way back along the deck. They only broke contact with one another to descend the ladder into the space below decks. Then they both reached for each other again, hands hungry and mouths searching. Davis pressed her up against the galley counter, kissing her again, pressing his hips against her so she could feel how hard he was, how ready he was for this night.
“Come on,” Jordan gasped, pulling him further into the boat. They staggered into the salon and Davis braced her against the interior mast, trailing kisses along her neck until she moaned, biting her lip. She clung to him with desperation, wanting her bed or his—it didn’t matter which—but so captivated by his touch that she couldn’t make herself move.
They stumbled on that way for what seemed like forever, unable to go more than a few steps without clawing at their clothes, without tasting one other’s lips or skin. The moments when they broke apart to proceed down the boat’s length were agonizing eternities to Jordan. This was her last chance with Davis—with a man she hadn’t even realized she liked and respected until now. She had to enjoy every moment with him, take in as much of him as she could. All too soon, he would be gone. And yet she couldn’t reach the goal of enjoying him quickly enough. Even as she held him against her, even as she greedily tasted his mouth, she wanted him more desperately than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
Finally, when Jordan was sure she would scream with anticipation, they reached Davis’s cabin. Jordan pulled his shirt over his head as soon as they were inside the small, narrow room. She stepped back to admire his well-defined chest, his flat stomach with its narrow trail of dark hair.
She opened her mouth to say something—God, your gorgeous, or I don’t want you to go back to Seattle—but Davis reached for her before she could speak. Jordan lifted her arms so he could remove her own t-shirt. His hands moved slowly over her body—the small of her back, the soft skin of her sides, her breasts—igniting her wherever they passed until she shivered with an insatiable craving. She wanted more of his touch, more of his time… more of Davis. And she knew it would be impossible to ever have enough of him.
His fingers trailed down her stomach and found the edge of her pants, but Jordan stopped him, grabbing his wrist.
“I want to go slow,” she said. “I want
to make this last.”
His slow, crooked smile was a clear agreement.
She reached down and traced the shape of his erection through his jeans. It strained against the denim, hard and warm and as long as her hand. She gave him a gentle squeeze; the eager shudder that wracked him seemed to ripple through her own body. Then she unzipped his fly and eased his jeans down.
Jordan followed, lowering herself to her knees. She barely felt the hardness of the teak floorboards as she knelt—all her senses were trained on Davis. He helped her free his cock from his boxer-briefs, and when she took him in her mouth Davis moaned deep in his chest. She moved her hand and her mouth together, sliding up and down the length of his shaft with a steady rhythm. He was smooth, and filled her mouth until her jaw ached, but she liked the faint salty taste of his skin and the way his breathing turned fast and ragged. It had been a long time since Jordan had done anything like this—and she was fairly sure her initial attempts hadn’t been very good. But tonight, with Davis, she felt she could do no wrong. Somehow, through the magic of his music or the spell of the sunset and this beautiful night, they had made a connection. It went far beyond the raw attraction—and borderline hate—they had felt during their first encounters. Now Jordan was in tune with his body, his desires, just as the strings of his guitar were in tune with one another. Jordan was absolutely certain she couldn’t play a single note wrong.
There was a loud, wooden thump as Davis dropped his head back against his locker door. He panted as Jordan kept going, faster now, holding him tighter. Finally his hand tangled in her hair and he gasped, “Wait!”
Hearts on Fire: Romance Multi-Author Box Set Anthology Page 110