“Four across. Three letter word for undergarment,” Pam said.
“Bra,” Geoff said.
James and Carl snickered.
“Got a few of those in your closet?” James asked, then grinned.
Geoff raised his right eyebrow and smiled like a Cheshire cat.
“Don’t answer that,” Carl added. “I don’t want to know.”
The photographer laughed and winked at him. “Are you sure you don’t, love?”
Leigh sat back and observed like a den mother watching over her brood. It had only been a month, but she was already getting attached to her team. The corners of her mouth curled into a melancholic smile. They’d be a hard bunch to leave.
She gazed out the open window to the horizon. The pungent smell of salt water wafted in, drawing her thoughts to the previous night. The water no longer held the bluish magic that had inspired David’s poetic words. Today, the ocean’s waves sparkled like fool’s gold as they crested and crashed against the rocky shore.
“Guys, let’s try to finish this before David gets here,” Pam said, bringing Leigh’s thoughts back to the present. “Twelve across. What is the singular of dice?”
“Die,” Geoff answered. “This puzzle is lame. Give me a hard one.”
“All right smarty pants. Give me a seven-letter word that means detach and has the letter ‘o’ in it.”
“Remove.” Geoff bowed to imaginary applause.
“That’s six letters,” Leigh said with cool authority. “The word you’re looking for is isolate.” She winked at Pam then grinned at Geoff. Pam and James high-fived her while Geoff grabbed his chest removing the imaginary barb with which he’d been skewered.
Leigh’s spine tingled from top to bottom. She knew David was in the room even before she saw him. Her heart sped up and tried to jump out of her throat. She stole glances at him as he handed out a stack of the previous day’s paper.
“You all did a great job last night.”
Trust David to get right down to business. He handed her a paper and electricity jolted up her arm. She held her breath.
“So far, the feedback on our coverage of the riot is excellent. Geoff you really outdid yourself. Your photos are haunting — great choice for the front page. Sue, nice imaginative layout. I like the way you integrated the graphics into the design of the page. James, Leigh, and Pam, first-rate coverage. We scooped it. Good job.”
Leigh piped in. “I’m going to continue to take the lead with this one. I’ve already developed a relationship with the superintendent and some of K Pen’s inmates, it makes sense that I be in the driver’s seat.”
She glanced at David, who winked at her, momentarily throwing her off. She grinned back and continued, “James, get on the horn and find out who the jail thinks are the instigators and how they’re being dealt with. Geoff, as soon as the night shift gets back, take Pam with you and go back for more pics. I’ll call Supt McKinney and make sure you can get by the media circus out there. Sue, I’ve got a feeling the Native faction’s going to get the rap for this one. Give me a call when you’re ready to layout the day’s pics, I’ve got some ideas I’d like to run by you. I’ll try to get access to the guards and prison staff involved, and try to get to the bottom of this.”
David smiled at her, visibly pleased with her take-charge attitude. “Thank you, Leigh. Before you all go, there’s one more thing we need to discuss. I just got a call from Star Media. They are not pleased with us today. It seems we used the same cover photo for our international news section as The New York Times did. Geoff? Got anything to say about that?”
David leaned into the table. His well-developed shoulders strained against the fabric of his indigo shirt, and a few dark chest hairs peaked out the top. Her mouth went dry.
Leigh licked her lips as she remembered his searing kisses. She couldn’t wait to be alone with him again, to undress him and breathe in his musky scent. She had to stop imagining him naked. That’s what had gotten her into trouble the night before. She squeezed her eyes shut to bring her attention back to the topic at hand. Geoffrey was defending their choice.
“The peace conference pic? How were we supposed to know they’d use Reuters and pick the same cover art? Besides, these things happen all the time. I’ll bet half the papers in the country picked that shot. I chose it because it was the best one.”
“Looks like they thought it was the best one, too,” Sue piped up. “Just goes to show we’re good at what we do.”
“Of course we’re — ”
David raised his hand to shush the chatter. “I know it seems unreasonable, but Star Media wants a courtesy call from now on whenever there’s a chance this sort of thing may happen. They own a third of the controlling interests in this paper, and that gives them the right to be as unreasonable as they want.”
It had begun. She hadn’t even sold them her share yet and already Star Media wanted The Sun to check in about the photos it was going to use. Soon they’d have to check-in with them about everything from advertising to the way they covered local news. She gulped her coffee to wash down the bad feeling stuck in her throat. Some things couldn’t be helped. She couldn’t be held responsible for her father’s bad management decisions, could she?
The day’s stories were assigned, and everyone rose, ready to get on with the tasks at hand. Lord, she couldn’t remember a single thing that had been said in the last twenty minutes. Good thing she was in Watford and not New York. Her colleagues would have eaten her alive. She lagged behind, hoping to steal a few moments alone with David.
“What’s up?” His tone softened and his gaze met hers.
She bit her lip, nervous and uncomfortable. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about last night.”
A devilish look came into his eyes. “Me neither.”
She couldn’t help but smile in return. “We still on for tonight?”
“Absolutely.” He closed the door and leaned his back against it, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Cupping her chin, he drew her closer.
Her stomach fluttered. “David — ”
“I though I’d take you for a sail and a picnic on the water.”
“On my father’s — I mean — on your boat?” David’s brows flickered and she wanted to kick herself. She’d definitely count to ten before speaking again.
Her reaction seemed to amuse him. “I hadn’t thought of Ocean Breeze. I was talking about going out on my other boat, Serendipity.” He raised an eyebrow and grimaced in good humor.
“I’d love spending time with you on either sloop.”
“Nice save.” He laughed. “Ocean Breeze definitely has a better galley. She’s more work, though. You sail?”
“I used to.” She had. But never in such good company. Her glance moved from his deep sable eyes to the clear cut lines of his mouth and jaw.
“The weather man says it’s going to be a clear warm night.” His tone was low, full of sexy promises.
“I would have gone, even if it were pouring rain.”
• • •
David stood on the dock in front of Ocean Breeze admiring its exquisite beauty. The wooden sloop’s lines, its narrow hull, and meticulous craftsmanship all combined to make it superb for sailing open waters. It swayed in a silent, easy motion silhouetted against the waning sun.
The boat’s hull and rig were in outstanding condition. With Ben’s regular loving maintenance, it had overcome the pitfalls of aging. Since buying the sloop thirty years ago, he’d spent most of his spare time restoring it to its original 1956 appearance. The sleek vessel was one of a kind at the Watford Marina.
David climbed aboard the sloop and stepped inside. The smell of fresh varnish and musty books welcomed him to the cabin. Below deck the yacht exemplified practical living and nautical charm. He ran his hands along the mahog
any planks and custom molded cabin tops. He still couldn’t quite believe Ocean Breeze was his.
Old family photos fastened to the wall with pushpins covered the small corkboard next to the Pullman sink in the galley. The meticulously arranged snapshots reminded him of the ones gracing the bulletin board in Leigh’s office. Time had yellowed some and turned others a greenish tinge. He stared at a picture of him and Ben taken years before at one of The Sun’s staff picnics. They wore matching grins, arms thrown over each other’s shoulders. Next to it, the impish face of a young pigtailed Leigh smiled at him.
The sweet floral essence of her perfume floated by tickling his nose with its velvety softness. For a second he thought he’d imagined it, but his sixth sense told him otherwise. He could always feel her presence.
The ladder creaked and confirmed her company as she climbed into the cabin. Tides of longing rippled through his body. He kept his back to her, unsure he could stop himself from taking her right there, if he gazed into her bewitching azure eyes.
“Excuse me.” She paused. The sound of her voice told him she stood maybe two feet behind. “I’m looking for the infamous David Stone.”
The back of his neck tingled. He turned and leaned against the counter in as nonchalant a way as he could. “Never heard of him. You sure you have the right place, Miss?”
“I’m sure. Maybe if I describe him to you, it’ll ring a bell.” She walked toward him, her stride catlike and graceful.
His throat went dry. She wore a white blouse tied into a knot just above her navel and a pair of perfectly worn hip-huggers. Every step she took revealed the apricot and milky color of her skin and perfect bellybutton.
“He’s tall, has short cropped jet-black hair, olive skin, strong features — in fact, to those who’ve never met him, he may even seem a little dangerous.”
“How so?”
“There’s something wild in his eyes.”
“Wild?”
“Rumor has it he’s the descendant of a powerful Native American Indian.”
David’s blood went cold. “And that makes him dangerous, does it, now?”
Some of her self-confidence seemed to evaporate. The heavy lashes casting shadows on her cheeks flew up. She must have sensed the change in his mood. “I, uh — I like danger.”
David looked at her perfect curly locks, voluptuous figure and long legs at once angry and turned on by her lack of awareness. “Please. Spare me the stereotypes.”
“David, what did I say? What’s wrong?”
“You don’t even know.” He shook his head and breathed deeply. “So, being a half-blood makes me dangerous, does it?”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What else does it make me? Dirty, lazy — ”
“Stop right there. Don’t you dare saddle me with that crap. Those are your issues. Not mine.”
She was right. He stared at her, irritated with himself and with the turn of events.
She glared back, trembling with anger, her turquoise eyes bright with fury.
He raked a hand through his hair and closed his eyes for a moment. “You’re right. My bad.” He smiled and arched his brows in a way he hoped looked contrite. “Do over?”
She sighed with frustration. “You want to talk stereotypes? Do you think being Ben’s daughter and having these,” she pointed to her breasts, “makes my life easier? I work with men who either want my job or my body. They take one look at me and think I slept my way to the top, then when they find out I’m Ben Cameron’s daughter, they’re sure he got me my job.” Raw hurt and anger glittered in her eyes.
“But once they get to know you, they realize you’re an excellent reporter — and that’s even more intimidating,” he whispered. “How can they possibly live up to the Cameron name?”
“God, I wish they’d all forget about the Cameron name.”
“Maybe you need to find someone who’s never even heard of your father.”
A tentative smile crossed her lips. “Or maybe I need someone who knew him better than I did.” The words rolled off her tongue and hung in the air between them like her perfume.
David’s stomach knotted. He searched the room for a diversion and grabbed the blue canvas spinnaker bag from under the table and handed it to her. “Here. Since you insist on being so darn sweet, you may as well help.”
He climbed out and disconnected the sloop’s shore services. It was as good a time as ever to take his new sloop out for a sail.
Leigh followed him up to the deck. “What are we having for dinner?”
“Didn’t I tell you? You’re making dinner.” He chuckled at the look of uncertainty on her face. “In my tribe, that’s women work.” He winked and laughed at her ruffled look.
“You bum.” Her gentle laughter rippled through the air, and she lunged at him with a mock punch. “I am so going to get you.”
He grabbed her by the wrists and pulled her into his arms. “I’m sorry I blew up at you.”
Her laughter broke off, and her gaze clouded over. “And I’m sorry I’m so clueless about stuff.”
He held her tighter and cradled her head against his shoulder. She was the perfect height, and her soft curves molded into this body like the missing pieces of a puzzle. An intense heat radiated through him, and he fought to keep his mind devoid of lustful thoughts. But his body obviously had another agenda, and his groin tightened with the thought of running his hands over her silky skin.
He burrowed his nose into her silky curls and breathed in the sweet floral scent. Time to let go. For a little while, anyway. He released her and smiled. “Shall we see if we can get this old girl going?”
“Sounds like a plan.” She caressed the wooden vessel’s boom oblivious of the effect she was causing. “I haven’t been on this boat in years.”
“Your dad rigged her so she could be sailed solo.”
“He loved sailing alone. He always said, ‘Better to be alone than in bad company.’”
He had a feeling she knew a thing or two about being alone. He jumped onto the dock to cast off the lines. As he cast the last one, he straddled boat and dock and pushed off. They raised the main sail and jib in silence. Instantly, the vessel came to life and drifted out of its upwind slip. He turned the key in the ignition. The motor turned once, twice, hiccupped, and died. “I think she’s flooded.”
“We don’t need the motor.” He followed her glance up the mast to the wind vane. “The wind’s coming from the northeast. Backwind the jib, and she’ll swing her bow to the mouth of the harbor.”
A little surprised and amused, he did as she commanded.
“Now, set her sails for a starboard beam reach, and give her a little helm.”
Without a sound, the sloop glided out of the harbor inlet. As it crossed the reef the wind picked up, and it sprung to hull speed. Leigh tossed her hair across her shoulders and grinned. “Don’t look so surprised. I haven’t forgotten everything he taught me.”
“Beautiful and a good sailor.” David did nothing to conceal his admiration as he settled into a comfortable stance at the helm. They sailed in silence for a while. Ocean Breeze flowed with carefree ease as it pointed its long, patrician nose toward the open sea. After some time he realized he was enjoying himself. Taking Leigh along did make the whole process less of a challenge and more of a treat. He watched as the wind ruffled her russet curls. Why fight the attraction? His determination faltered.
She broke the stillness. “You knew my father, you’ve been to Oak Hill dozens of times and you work at the family business. Meanwhile, I barely know anything about you.”
“There’s nothing to tell.” Why get into details? She’d be going back to New York soon.
“Sure there is. Where did you grow up?”
He scanned her face for a clue of what she was thinking
. Nothing. Whether she genuinely didn’t know or was trying to confirm the rumors, he couldn’t tell.
“The Bridge housing projects.” He watched for the flicker of uneasiness such an admission inevitably brought. Watford was made up of three distinct social classes: the rich, the poor, and the families that didn’t belong to either. As soon as anyone found out he’d grown up in the projects, they knew one of his parents was behind bars. It was pretty common for families to relocate to Watford to be closer to one of the pens.
“What was it like?”
“What, living in a ghetto?” No one had ever asked. Most people didn’t want to know. “It wasn’t all bad. At first I hated it. Living there was like wearing a sign that said, ‘My dad’s a con’.” He shrugged. “Then I got used to it.”
She accepted the information, a look of genuine interest on her face. “Do you, I mean, is your father still — ?”
The mere mention of the man put him on edge. “My father died a few years ago. Inside.”
She reached over and put her hand on his arm, concern warming her eyes. “Was he sick?”
“He was shanked,” he said, using the colloquialism favored by inmates to describe being stabbed with a handmade blade.
She shivered. “David, I’m so sorry.”
He set his jaw, determined not to let any emotion show. “It was a long time ago.”
“Did they ever find out who did it?”
He snorted. “I don’t think they even tried.”
“But how could they?”
“He was a pathetic, alcoholic Native American thief no one would miss.”
Her eyes grew large and liquid. “Did you get to say goodbye?”
“I didn’t need to. He was gone from my life long before he died.”
“I know what that’s like.”
Heart to Heart Page 14