by Zoe York
Then she dropped her hand to her side and stepped around him.
She didn’t miss that he chuckled under his breath.
This was going to be a problem.
There were worse problems to have, to be fair. But she didn’t know how to deal with this one, and that was not usual for Daphne.
She didn’t know what to do with that, so she took a deep breath and tossed over her shoulder. “Hey. Do you want to go sailing today?”
They could tell the rest of their friends about the whole wedding thing later. After some time on the open ocean.
There was only one right answer here. Will may have only been a married man for twelve hours, but he knew that Daphne was the expert on Daphne right now. If she needed to go sailing, that’s what they would do.
“Where do you want to go?”
Daphne gestured toward the horizon. “Somewhere out there.”
That sounded perfect. It was a warm morning, with a good breeze. They could go far on a day like today, and maybe they should. “Then take us out.”
Will knew his way around sails, but Daphne moved around on her little boat like she’d been born below deck. Nimble, confident, with an economy of movement that made it look like nothing.
It wasn’t nothing, though. It was quiet, practiced skill that probably didn’t get enough recognition.
And he appreciated the hell out of her abilities.
Once out of the harbor, she shut down the little motor and set a course to the west, got them moving away from shore. Only the sound of the wind in the wires and the water splashing against the hull of Daphne’s little sloop could be heard now.
Their only company besides each other was a group of pelicans, wheeling and diving into the water as they searched after their breakfast.
It was glorious.
Out on the open blue sea, Daphne gave him the task of minding the wheel and holding their course as she ran the sails up and set them tight, so the Escapee could sail close hauled.
Then she returned, taking the wheel back, and he got to watch her again up close. She moved easily with the little boat as it rode on the gentle swells, keeping an idle but practiced eye on the compass.
He hadn’t asked about the course yet, but she caught him looking and smiled. “Wondering if I’m going to dump your body at sea?”
“Perfectly good way to go,” he said. “But no. I was wondering if you have a plan or if we’re winging it.”
She barely restrained an eye roll. “I have a plan.”
She didn’t share it.
He bit his lower lip, and she laughed at him before gesturing to a cabinet. “There’s a map in there. I know the coordinates off by heart now, but it’s the one marked One Day Triangle, if you want to be nosy.”
He did, on so many levels, so he grabbed the map and oriented himself to their coordinates.
After he tucked that away, Daphne let him watch her for a few more minutes, but eventually she suggested he stretch out and just enjoy the ride for a while—code for please stop staring at me, Nosy Parker.
Will, not wanting to push his luck, and happy to enjoy the morning at sea, did as he was told and stretched out on the deck.
He wanted to ask her what they were running away from, but he was pretty sure the answer was a mess of his own making. They should talk about that, of course. He didn’t want to.
So he asked her how often she got out for a sail. It was a safe question. Easy. Small talk, really.
She smiled anyway, shielding her eyes from the sun rising quickly in the sky. “A couple times a week. My favorite thing is to do an overnight trip. Maybe I’ll do more of those now that I don’t need to bartend every night.”
“Where do you go?”
“Everywhere. The Virgin Islands sometimes, or the Bahamas.” Something funny passed behind her gaze, and she looked away.
“What was that?”
She laughed. “Nothing. No longer relevant.”
“What?”
She looked back at him. “You really want to know?”
“Yeah.” He really did. Leaning in, he lowered his voice. “We’re all alone in the middle of the Caribbean Sea, Daphne. Tell me your secrets.”
She rolled her eyes. “It would depend, I guess, because the Virgin Islands are…” She made a face. “The guys there are more pretentious.”
He laughed out loud. “I resemble that remark.”
She groaned. “Oh God, don’t tell me you were one of those frat boys who came down on spring break and rented top of the line yachts.”
He shook his head. “Not me. I’d already joined the Navy by then. But my family…yeah. My cousins would be those insufferable jerks you probably wouldn’t look twice at.”
She blushed. “Guilty. Unless I could sneak into an open bar party, in which case, I’d put up with the pretentious bullshit—”
He rolled on top of her, covering her mouth with his. Cutting her off. Swallowing the rest of her words, because he didn’t want to hear how she’d kiss some asshole at a party—or more.
Or maybe not more. Maybe she went to the Bahamas to hook up, and she’d never give a guy like him the time of day, open bar or not.
Will didn’t want to explore the depths of just how different they were, or how much she didn’t like his world. She liked him, maybe despite herself, and she liked kissing him. A lot.
She pulled him in tight, her fingers tangling in his hair. Her lips parted, her tongue sliding out in a wet, warm welcome.
Kissing was so much better than sharing dating histories. He braced his hands on the smooth wood deck and let himself get lost in the taste of her, in the way her body moved beneath him.
Too soon, she broke away and buried her face in his shirt. She didn’t pull away—but the kiss was definitely over.
“Sorry,” he muttered. He wasn’t, so it was the wrong thing to say, but it was what came out.
She laughed and relaxed as she nudged him off her body and back to the side. “What was that?”
“If you don’t recognize a scorching hot kiss when I lay it on you, I’m clearly doing it wrong.”
She squinted up at the sky, her cheeks turning pink. “You did it right.”
He stretched out on his back. “It was a weird kind of jealousy, I think.”
“What?”
“Let’s call it getting into the role with some sincerity. Add a dash of feeling like a shit for being like those entitled jerks, sometimes, and you get a kiss.”
She made a thinking noise. Always thinking. Always analyzing the angles on their secret little con in ways he couldn’t see.
“Do you think I shouldn’t do that?”
“Kiss me?” She laughed gently. “Depends. I’m not going to pretend I don’t like it. But it’s a bit…”
“Complicated.” As he said it, his pulse thumped harder. Headier.
“Yeah,” she whispered, and his awareness of her jacked up another notch. “We should be careful, you know?”
He nodded. Except… “Or…”
She sucked in a breath. “Or?”
“We need to be believable in public,” he said. He even believed himself. They needed to pull this off, always, and that meant… “Practice. We need to—”
Daphne slid closer. “Practice,” she breathed, and he could feel her attention on his mouth.
“So yeah, it’s complicated,” he admitted as he turned and locked his gaze on her face. “But necessary.”
“A necessary complication.” Each whispered repeat of his words was like a drug injected straight into his veins. And when she licked her lips, it took all of his restraint not to haul her on top of him.
But if they were going to kiss again, she would need to initiate it. He wasn’t going to force anything—
“Will?”
He jerked his attention up to meet her gaze. “Yeah?”
She blinked. It did nothing to mask the nervous, hungry heat simmering in the glittery depths of her eyes. “I like you more than I ever
expected to,” she said, leaning in. “And I’m attracted to you. That’s it. Those are my cards on the table. But I can’t let myself get hurt here, you know?”
He wrapped his arms around her as she slid her lithe frame on top of his. “I’m not going to hurt you, Daphne. I promise.”
She brushed her lips against his, ending the conversation. This kiss was playful, light and teasing, until she licked the corner of his mouth and something inside him jacked to life. Hard and fast, and then she was on her back, he was on top of her, and every bit of their bodies lined up just right.
Daphne gasped as he ground his hips against her. “Just kissing,” she breathed.
“I know.” Fucking hell, he knew they needed boundaries. He pressed hard against her, enjoying one last soft, wavering breath against his cheek, then rolled off and away.
Far away, as far as one could get on a small sailboat.
She leaned up against the wall, her legs splayed out in front of her, and laughed at him.
He joined in, watching the way her swollen lips twisted in amusement and her gaze alternated between eyelids fluttering shut and sneaking knowing, wanton glances his way.
“The tension is good,” she finally said. “For believability.”
He coughed. “Excellent.”
“So…” She flicked her fingers toward the ocean. “How about you and sailing?”
His brain stuttered over the change of subject, then caught up. He told her about learning to sail early on, growing up with the ocean breeze, and hating his time in New York and Connecticut.
“They have an ocean there,” she teased. “The same one as on the other side of Miralinda, in fact.”
“It’s not the same,” he said with a smile that grew the more he thought about it. “And I’d honestly forgotten how much I love it here. I adore California. When I went out there for training, I thought I’d come home. Now I realize that was because it was the closest I’d come to Miralinda inside the States. But this feels like my real home, you know?”
She gave him a funny look. “Yeah. I do.”
Right. Because this was her home now. He waved in acknowledgment. “Of course you do.”
They sat like that for a few minutes, watching each other. Taking stock. Wanting, too. The longer they sat in silence, the more he wanted to haul her into his lap and kiss her again, but it wasn’t the time.
They had a year of restless, achy kisses ahead of them. He really needed to pace himself if he didn’t want to implode.
When she got up to check their course, he made her a cup of tea, then they had lunch.
By the time they were ready to turn back for Miralinda, the wind had shifted a few points. They worked together to bring the Escapee around, then Daphne put them on a starboard tack.
“We should make good time,” she said as she checked their speed. They were sailing easily on a broad reach, the sea rushing beneath them as the boat glided over the waves.
She was right. They would make good time, but Will didn’t care. They could stay out here forever. They’d spent the entire day on the water, and it had been perfect.
All good things must come to an end, of course, not that he wanted the day to be over.
As they slid back into her slip at the marina, he thought about suggesting they head out to Villa Sucre and see everyone. Or maybe hit a bar in town and put a call out. He could wrap his arm around her and hold her close all night. That would feel good.
Real good.
But before he could suggest any of that, Daphne’s attention was drawn to the dock. To a woman waving at them. Will’s stomach sank.
This couldn’t be good, whatever it was.
“Who is that?”
He took a deep breath as he tried to picture Gill through Daphne’s eyes. Big white hat. Oversized black sunglasses. Shiny red lips, visible from a distance. High-maintenance written all over her. “That’s my lawyer.”
Daphne rounded on him and gave him a cold, piercing look that made his balls wince. “That’s some guy named Gill?”
Will took a deep breath. Shit. “It’s short for Gillian.”
“What’s going on?”
“I don’t know.” He’d find out. And then he’d fix this, too.
I’m not going to hurt you. I promise. He’d hold himself to that and fix all the problems he’d made for Daphne. Somehow.
Chapter Twelve
Daphne was fuming. She didn’t really know why—liar, yes you do—and she didn’t know what to do about it.
That second part wasn’t a lie. Gill was Will’s lawyer. Rhyming names, business deals…Daphne had no reason to be jealous. Surely Will and Gill could never be a thing.
Except Gill had shiny red lips and right now, her hand was curled possessively around Will’s arm as they talked on the dock.
Plus there was the way he’d forgotten to explain his lawyer was a hot chick.
“That’s some guy named Gill?”
“It’s short for Gillian.”
The way Will had said that had given Daphne the worst feeling in the pit of her something. Like at some point, Gill had been something more to Will than just his lawyer.
And Daphne didn’t like that feeling at all. Not one little bit. She didn’t want to be jealous. They’d literally just talked about that on the boat, while kissing.
She wanted to head back out on the open ocean, but right now, that wasn’t an option, because Gill needed to talk to Will urgently.
In private.
Right now, they were having a terse back and forth on the dock while Daphne pretended not to listen.
She was totally, absolutely listening.
“I got your email, and I flew right here—”
“From San Diego? You got here mighty fast.”
“I was already in Miami.”
“Gill—”
“I’ve taken another look at the estate documents—”
“That doesn’t matter. This is—”
“Can we go somewhere else to discuss this?” Gill threw a concerned look in Daphne’s direction.
Daphne wanted to throw something heavy right back at her. Like the anchor.
Will took a deep breath, and Daphne’s stomach plummeted. Fuck. But then he stepped back and shook his head. “We can talk tomorrow. Are you at a hotel? Do you need me to call ahead to Villa Sucre for you?”
Daphne missed Gill’s mumbled response, but whatever it was, it was some kind of acceptance, because she swept around Will and headed up toward the marina buildings.
He hung his head and cursed.
Daphne knew she should busy herself before he got back on the boat, pretend she hadn’t been eavesdropping, but she couldn’t do it. She was frozen to the spot, overcome by the weird, helpless feeling in the pit of her stomach.
So, she stood there, and when he stepped onto the boat, the look on his face matched how she felt—like the day spent on the water, like the weird kind of rightness about the night before and their secret vows, had all been an illusion.
Reality was crashing down around them. Reality was a lawyer pointing out that they didn’t need to get married—stupid kids, what a ridiculous plan, that’s not how wills work, duh—and now they’d gone and gotten all tangled up in each other’s feelings for absolutely no reason.
“Daph…”
She swallowed hard. “It’s fine.”
He nodded slowly. “It is. Really.”
“Why is she here?”
“To talk me out of getting married. Which isn’t going to work. We just need a new plan.”
Oh no. No, no, no. Daphne laughed out loud, not caring that it sounded a bit manic. After the last seventy-two hours, maybe a bit of mania was deserved. “The last thing we need is another plan. Let’s forget the whole thing.”
Cocking his head to the side, he gave her a soft smile. “We can’t do that.”
“Why not?” And why was he smiling?
“We got married last night. You’re my wife.”
A w
ife of twenty-four hours didn’t trump a concerned, trusted attorney of many years. “I’m pretty sure Gill doesn’t care about that. She doesn’t like me.”
He took a step closer. “She doesn’t know you.”
“I’m not going to be watched like a criminal. Measured, judged, and found dubious at best. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
“You’re right. Please, just calm down. I’ll talk to her.”
“Calm down?” Oh, that was rich. Daphne moved back, keeping some space between them. Will was so big, his presence right in front of her made her head swim. “Great. You can have more secrets with her and I’ll just wait for my life to explode because of your plans.”
“No secrets. And you don’t need to be calm, I shouldn’t have said that. You’re right…this is upsetting.”
Daphne snorted, because sure. “But you aren’t upset, are you? And that should tell me something. Definitely should be a major red flag. Because I didn’t ask for any of this, mister. This was all your idea, and now it’s not necessary, so you can just—”
Will closed the gap between them and caught her hand. “You’re forgetting one key thing.”
Her heart pounded in her chest as she tipped her head back and glared up at him. “What?”
“I made you promises and I meant them. And I made them for a reason. I like you. A lot. More than Gill. Maybe more than anyone, even my guys, which says a hell of a lot. We have a connection, you and me. So when I say I’ll talk to her, I mean I’ll make it right. For you. For us. And I’ll tell you all about it because the only person I want to keep secrets with is you.”
“We barely know each other,” she whispered. “I don’t understand.”
He lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against the inside of her wrist, his eyes staying locked on her face the whole time. A shiver ran up her arm and right into her heart. “I don’t understand either,” he said quietly. “But I know that it’s true. That’s all that matters. You are important to me. Like Mick or Brayden.”
“Do you…” She sighed and rolled her head, trying to clear her brain. “Do you kiss Mick or Brayden when they’re mad at you?”
“They aren’t my wife.”