Smooth Sailing

by Lori Wilde

  That was, until he met Haley. Too bad they’d never hooked up, although they’d come pretty damn close.

  Jeb smiled, remembering. He could have gotten her into bed if he’d wanted. When they’d made out on the beach at sunset a few months back, sparks had ignited unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and that was saying something. Haley had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, maybe even more so, although chances were good that she would never admit it.

  But, surprise, surprise, he’d been the one to put a stop to things before they’d completely lost control.

  He’d stopped for two reasons. One, he knew Haley would have regretted it the morning after. She was such a stickler for protocol, held herself and others to high standards. Two, he’d been trying to prove to Jackie that she was wrong about him. He wasn’t a self-absorbed playboy with no depth of character. He could restrain himself.

  No matter how difficult it had been to break that kiss and send Haley home with their desires unfulfilled.

  Ah, well, you couldn’t win them all, right? It was time to move on. His work on St. Michael’s was done. He’d achieved what he’d set out to achieve. He’d helped rebuild the island. He could return home with his head held high.

  “About that interview, Mr. Whitcomb,” said the blond reporter with a smile that sparkled like prisms.

  Matching her smile, Jeb turned and led her away, but he couldn’t resist one last glance over his shoulder at Haley.

  She paused and looked back.

  Their eyes met.

  Gotcha! Protest all you want, sweetheart—you do want me. Boldly, he winked.

  Her cheeks reddened and her eyes narrowed in a scowl. She ducked her head and flounced from his view, leaving Jeb sorely regretting the night that they’d never had.

  *

  HALEY LAY STRETCHED OUT on her twin bed in the one-bedroom bungalow she shared with Ahmaya. She was eating Oreos, twisting the cookies apart and scraping the white filling off with her front teeth before gobbling up the dark cookies. Oreos were her go-to comfort treats when she was stressed or frustrated, and yes, she knew the drawbacks of de-stressing with a sugar fix, but when she was feeling like this, she didn’t care.

  The quarters were basic and cramped, but a long sight better than the tent they’d lived in after Hurricane Sylvia. She was trying not to think about Jeb, but he kept popping into her head at the most unwanted times.

  Why?

  Yes, he was wealthy, handsome and self-confident, but he was also full of himself and far too free with his affections. Imagine! He’d called her baby and took the pins out of her hair, and she’d just stood there and let him. Unexpected goose bumps lifted on her arms and she hugged herself.

  Ahmaya stood in front of the mirrored closet door, examining her reflection as she got ready for the party. “What do you think about this skirt?”

  “The hem is too short.”

  “Perfect,” Ahmaya purred.

  “You’re going to wear it anyway?”

  “I am. If you think it’s too short that means it’s exactly the right length.”

  Haley sat up. “You’re saying I’m a prude?”

  “Uh-huh, kinda.” Ahmaya ran her fingers through her straight, glossy black hair.

  “I’m not a prude,” she argued against the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was she? She didn’t mean to be; it was just that she had certain principles and she wasn’t going to compromise.

  “Prove it.”

  “What?”

  “Prove you’re not a prude.”

  “I don’t have to prove anything.”

  “You don’t curse.”

  “So what?”

  “Prudes don’t curse.”

  “I believe in having a wide vocabulary. Is that so wrong?”

  “Prudish.”

  “What?” She raised her arms. “I should go around swearing like a sailor to prove I’m not prudish? Okay, then.” Haley let loose with a few descriptive curse words.

  Ahmaya looked surprised. “I had no idea you knew those words.”

  “I’m a nurse. I’ve heard a lot worse than that. It’s just that cursing seems so crude and uncivilized.”

  “Sometimes—” Ahmaya grinned “—it’s fun to be uncivilized.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Prude.”

  “Are we back to that?”

  “It’s the truth of your being.”

  “I don’t think prude is the right word. Prudent, if you wish, but not prudish.”

  “Hmm.” Ahmaya stepped into a pair of mile-high stilettos. “Prove it.”

  “I just did.”

  “Not by cursing, by coming with me to Jeb’s party. I need a wing woman.”

  “You don’t need a wing woman.”

  “Everyone needs a wing woman.”

  “Call Jessie. I’m sure she’d go.”

  “She’s stuck working second shift.”

  “Ahmaya, I don’t want to go.”

  “But you’re the one with a car.”

  “It’s only a half mile. You can ride your bike.”

  “In this?” Ahmaya swept a dramatic hand at her sexy outfit. She had a point. Jimmy Choo didn’t pedal well. Her friend dropped on her knees in front of Haley, pressed her palms together. “Please, please, please. I’ll do the crash-cart checks for you all month.”

  Haley sighed. “You know parties aren’t my thing.”

  “Seriously, it’s great that you’re all into altruistic causes and saving people and everything, but you can’t work or think about work 24/7. You need to lighten up. Let your hair down.”

  That remark had Haley remembering how Jeb had pulled the bobby pins from her hair. She suppressed a shiver. He’d kept her bobby pins. It would serve him right if she went to his party and demanded the return of her bobby pins.

  “You are the dullest twenty-seven-year-old I know.” Ahmaya pouted.

  Ouch! That hurt.

  Haley considered self-discipline her strong suit, not a flaw. It was what had gotten her through nursing school with a 4.0 grade-point average. An accomplishment she was very proud of.

  “One little bitty party isn’t going to kill you. Everyone is going to be there. Look at it as a networking opportunity.” Ahmaya batted her long, dark lashes. “Pretty please?”

  “Oh, all right, but I’m only staying for one drink and then I’m out of there.”

  “You’ll drink really slowly, right?”

  “An hour. I’ll stay an hour. If you’re ready to go in an hour, you can leave with me. If you’re not, then you’ll have to find your own way home.”

  Ahmaya’s face dissolved into a happy smile and she extended her hand. “Deal.”

  Huffing out a sigh, Haley shook her hand.

  “Now,” Ahmaya said, “we have to find you something sexy to wear.”

  “No, we don’t. Jeans and a T-shirt will do just fine.”

  Ahmaya looked aghast. “Shut your mouth. This is a par-tay. You’re not going looking like a schlub.”

  “I came here with the Red Cross and I stayed to work. I have scrubs and jeans and that’s it.”

  “Ah.” Ahmaya’s eyes glistened. “But I have party clothes. My sister sent me a big box of them last month.”

  “You wear a size four.”

  “You’re not that much bigger than me. I bet we can squeeze you into my blue Ann Taylor Loft spaghetti strap. Ann Taylor sizes run big, and blue is your color.” Ahmaya dug in her closet, found the dress, tossed it to Haley. “The dress is a little bland for my taste anyway. Should be right up your alley.”

  “I’m not much for florals. Too girly.”

  “No excuses. Try it on.” Ahmaya sank her hands on her hips.

  Reluctantly, Haley stripped off her scrubs and put on the dress. It hugged her curves and the hem fell halfway up her thigh. Hello, where’s the burlesque stage? Gypsy Rose Lee is in the house. She tugged at the bottom of the dress, trying to lengthen it. “It’s too short.”

  �
�You’ve got dynamite legs. Why are you so scared to show them?”

  “I’m not scared. Just not interested in looking like a hoochie mama.”

  “You’re saying I’m a hoochie mama?”

  “The dress isn’t snug on you and you’re two inches shorter than I am.”

  “Celebrate your curves, Haley. I’m jealous.”

  “It’s too tight in the boobs.”

  “It’s perfect. That’s the way a sexy dress is supposed to fit.”

  “I’ll need a strapless bra.”

  Ahmaya’s eyes danced mischievously. “Go braless.”

  “My nipples will show.”

  “I have Nippies you can wear. No more excuses.”

  “What are Nippies?”

  “Gawd, do you live under a rock? They’re nipple covers.”

  “I live on a hurricane-devastated island. My concerns run more toward basic human necessities than fashion.”

  “You can say that again. Can you for once not be a Debbie Downer?”

  That startled her. “Am I really a killjoy?”

  “Yeah, kinda. Not everyone lives by your work-work-work credo, and you know, sometimes people need something fun to take their minds off the bad things that have happened. Jeb totally gets that.”

  Her friend’s comment stopped Haley in her tracks. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that she was too focused on hard work and doing things by the book. Did everyone think she was a hard-ass? Yes, she was very careful by nature and thorough in forming her opinions, and she had high principles. Why was that a bad thing? Why did she so often feel out of step with others her age?

  “Haley, if you’re not perfect every minute of the day, the world won’t come to an end,” Ahmaya said, her voice softening. “Please just try to have fun tonight. Will you promise me that?”

  She really did want to fit in. Wanted people to like her. “I’ll try, but the main reason I don’t want to go is that Jeb Whitcomb will be there.”

  “Of course he’ll be there. It’s his party.”

  “He’s just so cocky. He thinks that all women want to fall at his feet.”

  “Most of them do.”

  “Not me.”

  “Do you really want to make him suffer?”

  That intrigued her. “How would I do that?”

  “Show up looking gorgeous. Let him see what he’ll never have. Rub it in.”

  Hmm. She liked that. Little Miss Sadist. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

  “Yay.” Ahmaya clapped. “Now, will you let me do your makeup?”

  Haley started to resist—Ahmaya had a tendency to overdo makeup application—but she quickly thought better of it. She was determined to prove she could be a party animal just like everyone else, even if it killed her.

  But most of all, she wanted to give Jeb Whitcomb a good-riddance send-off he wouldn’t forget.

  2

  Luff—The flapping motion of the sailcloth when a sail is undertrimmed

  JEB WAS IN HIS ELEMENT. He loved throwing parties, loved crowds. Having people around amped him up, fed his energy.

  It wasn’t even sunset and the party was already rocking. Wang Chung was urging “Everybody Have Fun Tonight” from the sound system. People were bobbing and weaving to the beat. The bartender he’d hired was imitating Tom Cruise moves from Cocktail. The yacht overflowed, people spilling out onto the gangplank and dock. The caterers dished up delectable canapés—prawn spring rolls, Thai chicken skewers, langoustine pastry puffs, smoked-salmon crisps, mini Yorkshire pudding with roast beef and horseradish, and mushrooms stuffed with lump crab meat. Japanese paper lanterns and flickering citronella candles provided intimate lighting. The air smelled salty and calm.

  He stood smiling, dressed in a blue button-down silk shirt, chino slacks and deck shoes without socks, a tumbler of finely aged Scotch and water in his hand. Great turnout. Then again, the turnout for his parties was always great.

  But one person was missing. The person he most wanted to see.

  You really didn’t think she’d show, did you?

  No, he hadn’t. Why did she snub him so vigorously? Why did he care so much to begin with? He was supposed to resist the allure of other women so he could win Jackie back. His ex-girlfriend would have to be impressed with all he’d accomplished on St. Michael’s. He’d proven he wasn’t a dilettante and that he was serious about helping others.

  The hospital administrator came over to thank him again for his contributions. Jeb leaned in, pretended to listen intently, but his gaze kept straying to the dock, watching the arriving guests.

  No Haley.

  What was the big deal? He should be happy to have that contentious female out of his life for good. He would be on his way home to Florida tomorrow. He should be thinking about Jackie. She would be so surprised to see him.

  Yes! Going home. He missed Miami and he was turning flips at the thought of seeing Jackie again and showing her how he’d changed, but he couldn’t help wishing he could have said goodbye to Haley. He would miss the way she challenged him at every turn. Not too many people did that to him.

  Jackie did.

  It had just been so long since he’d seen Jackie that he was imbuing Haley with his ex-girlfriend’s traits. That was all this was. That was all it could be, because he’d given up being a ladies’ man and he was damned proud of his restraint.

  A year.

  It had been a year since he’d been with a woman. His longest record since he’d lost his virginity at sixteen. See, Jackie, I have changed!

  The governor and his wife joined Jeb’s conversation with the hospital administrator. Jeb winked at the wife, a dumpy woman in her mid-fifties wearing a colorful muumuu. “You’re looking beautiful tonight, Mrs. Freemont.”

  She blushed like a girl and ducked her head. “You’re such an outrageous flirt.”

  From eight to eighty, most women were so easy to charm. Look them straight in the eye, pay them a compliment and mean it. That was the essential part. You truly had to love women. Add a conspiratorial wink and they were putty.

  All except for Jackie.

  And Haley.

  “You don’t have drinks,” Jeb said to the Freemonts. “Let me rectify that right now.” He motioned for one of the waiters roving through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres to come over. He gave their order to the waiter, turned back to pick up the thread of the conversation when his attention was immediately snagged by a leggy honey-blonde sauntering up the gangplank.

  She wore a skimpy little blue dress with tiny white flowers scattered over the material, and her breasts moved with such a pert bounce he had to assume she was not wearing a bra.

  Instantly, his body lit up.

  His gaze trailed from the blue four-inch stiletto sandals on her delicate little feet, up the length of those amazing calves and back to the nip of her narrow waist to the boldly unharnessed breasts, and finally, he glanced at her face.

  His heart did a double take.

  No way! This could not be Haley French looking like a supermodel with her perfectly arched eyebrows and glossy pink lips.

  His eyes bugged out and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He knew she was pretty, yes indeed, but he had absolutely no idea she could look like this. Stunning.

  “Excuse me,” he said smoothly to the Freemonts and the hospital administrator, then set down his drink and made a beeline straight for Haley.

  Her eyes widened and she reached for the elbow of the dark-haired girl beside her. She said something short and succinct to her friend, shook her head, spun on her heel and hurried back down the gangplank.

  “Wait!” Jeb called, pushing through the crowd.

  But Haley didn’t even glance around. Her friend stood on the gangplank looking bewildered.

  “Jeb, hey, I’ve been wanting to speak to you,” someone said.

  “Great party.” A beautiful woman clutched at his arm.

  A man clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re going to miss you on St. Micha
el’s.”

  “Excuse me, excuse me.” Jeb shook off the people. Why was he so desperate to prevent her from leaving?

  He blew past Haley’s friend, reached the end of the gangplank. Haley was a good twenty feet ahead of him. She was already off the dock and climbing the stairs to the marina parking lot.

  “Haley!”

  She didn’t turn around.

  He was running now. Definitely uncool. Ruining your image, dude. Stop it.

  Jeb reached the bottom of the stairs just as Haley crested them. “Baby, don’t go.”

  She stopped in midstep and spun around to glower at him. One sexy gam perched on the landing, the other on the step below. “Excuse me?”

  “Baby, please don’t go.”

  “Baby? Did you just call me baby?”

  He shrugged, chagrined. “Sorry. Figure of speech.”

  “Do I look like an infant to you?”

  “No, ma’am. Not in any way, shape or form.”

  Slowly, she came back down the steps toward him, her eyes blazing fire. His pulse hammered hotly through his veins. “The word baby is also often used as a term of endearment between lovers,” she said.

  “Uh-huh.” He nodded.

  “Are we lovers?”

  “Unfortunately, no.” What was he doing? Jackie was the one for him. He was trying not to seduce other women, and for a whole year, he’d been a very good boy. He should just tell Haley goodbye and go back to the party.

  “I am not an infant and we are not lovers, correct?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then under no circumstances are you to call me baby. Got it?”

  He gave a jaunty salute. “Got it. No baby. Not now, not ever. The word is stricken from my vocabulary.”

  “Good. Even among lovers I find the word off—

  putting. Infantilizing each other isn’t the way to build a mature, loving bond.”

  “You have strong opinions about it.”

  “I do.”

  “You really don’t like me all that much, do you?”

  “Not especially.”

  “Why did you come tonight?”

  “My friend Ahmaya needed a wing woman and a ride. She doesn’t have a car.”