Smooth Sailing

by Lori Wilde

  “It’s not bad luck. I changed her name because of you.”

  “What are you calling her these days?”

  “Second Chance.”

  “Oh, Jeb.”

  “Promise me you won’t get married until I get there.”

  “I can’t promise that. The wedding is at four.”

  “Then I will find a way to be there before four.”

  “Good, should I put you down for fish or filet mignon?”

  “What?” he asked, thrown off by the question.

  “Fish or beef. For the reception head count.”

  “Once I get there, there won’t be a reception.”

  “Oh, Jeb, you are so funny. I can’t wait to see you again.”

  “Jackie, I’m being serious—”

  “Gotta go, honey, another call is coming in. I’ve been nuts with the RSVPs. See you on Saturday, if not before.”

  The dial tone sounded in his ear.

  Honey? Jackie had called him honey? As if he was some maiden aunt or the flower girl or something.

  He thought about calling her back, but he realized no matter how hard he tried to tell her that he’d changed, she’d simply have to see it to believe it. Okay, he deserved that. He’d been fickle and shallow in the past, but his year on St. Michael’s truly had transformed him. The only way that Jackie was going to know he was serious was if he showed up at the wedding, got down on bended knee and asked her to marry him instead of Scott.

  After all, she’d only known Scott a month. How serious could it really be if she’d only known him a month? She and Jeb had known each other through nautical circles since they were kids. His family had helped finance many of Jack Birchard’s research trips before he’d gotten as famous as Jacques Cousteau. That was how Jackie knew him so well. Even before they dated, she’d heard of all his exploits. That was the main strike against him. She’d witnessed his dating history firsthand.

  There was only one thing to do. Sail to Key West immediately and confront Jackie face-to-face.

  *

  THE ROCKING MOTION was so nice, a gentle lullaby soothing Haley’s splitting headache. Her eyes were closed and her thinking was fuzzy. She should open her eyes and see where she was, because she’d forgotten, but a provocative fragrance distracted her.

  What was that enticing scent? It smelled like sea and cotton linen and masculine man.

  Jeb.

  It smelled like Jeb.

  Mmm, Jeb.

  Dreamily, in spite of the headache, her mind conjured up her favorite image of Jeb Whitcomb.

  November.

  It was last November on Divers’ Beach at sunset.

  After a taxing twelve-hour shift at what was then a makeshift tent hospital, Haley had decided to take a long walk to clear her head. She’d been working nonstop since she’d arrived with the Red Cross on St. Michael’s the previous June and she was close to the breaking point. She just needed some alone time and Divers’ Beach was the most secluded stretch of sand on St. Michael’s. Especially since Hurricane Sylvia had driven many people to leave the island for good.

  The beach had been cleaned up, but there were still big piles of brush stacked up in the tree line awaiting disposal. Her heart ached for the damage her adopted home had suffered.

  As a child, she’d spent her summers on the island. Her parents were teachers and each year they volunteered as instructors for a program to help disadvantaged children get the education they needed. It was a win-win situation. Free vacation for her and her sister and brother, while underprivileged children got the assistance they needed. The experience taught Haley the power of giving to others.

  That was when she happened upon Jeb, who was up to his waist in the surf, the golden rays of the evening sun glinting off his bare chest. At first, she thought he was dangerously swimming alone—which was sort of what she might expect from a guy who liked to test limits, except he never went anywhere alone—and then she realized there was a flailing seagull in the water beside him.

  Jeb approached and soothed the frantic bird, and then he plucked a plastic six-pack ring holder from around the gull’s legs. Freed, the bird launched itself into the air. Jeb stood there watching it soar, a happy smile on his face, unaware he was being observed.

  When he turned back around and spotted her, he looked chagrined for a fraction of a second, as if embarrassed to be caught saving a seagull’s life, but then quickly he started preening, flexing his biceps and strutting like a badass, almost killing the tender scene she’d just witnessed.

  He sauntered ashore, water rolling off his body, black swim trunks clinging to his hips. Haley gulped, noting they were completely alone on the beach.

  “Hey,” he greeted her, stuffing the plastic six-pack holder into the pocket of his swim trucks. “Fancy meeting you here.”

  The previous day, they’d had an argument at the meeting of the hospital planning committee. He wanted to put an open-air solarium in the middle of the new hospital. She thought the money would be better spent on more monitoring equipment. He’d won, of course. He was paying for the hospital, after all, but she did have to give him props for at least hearing her out, and then today, the administrator had told her that Jeb had cut an extra check to cover the equipment, too.

  She was still in her hospital scrubs. She hadn’t taken the time to change. Home at this point was still a communal tent in the town center.

  “Thanks,” she said, always able to admit when she was wrong about someone. “For buying the equipment.”

  “Thank you.”

  “What for?”

  “Making sure that my priorities were straight. Notice that no one else on the committee protested my plans?”

  “No one ever goes against you.”

  “Except for you.” He’d grinned at her as if that was a good thing.

  She found herself softening toward him, but that scared her because she was just as attracted to him as everyone else. She was not going to give in. She’d done the hero-worship thing before and that had turned out badly.

  “Where’s your entourage?” she asked.

  “I gave ’em the slip.” He winked conspiratorially.

  She warmed from the inside out. “What for?”

  “Sometimes a guy just wants to be alone.”

  “I’m shocked,” she teased. “I never considered that you got tired of being adored.”

  “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he answered in a moment of honesty that took Haley by surprise.

  “Well…” she said. Could it be more awkward between them? “I’ll leave you to your privacy.”

  He put out a hand to touch her arm.

  Her skin ignited. Like gasoline on a fire.

  “Don’t go,” he said.

  “I don’t want to intrude.”

  “You’re not.” His smile was soft and inviting and she just swooned. “May I walk with you?’

  She nodded and he fell into step beside her.

  They walked along in silence for a while and then stopped to watch the sun slide down the horizon. It winked out, leaving a salting of stars in its wake.

  “It’s very peaceful,” he said.

  She took a deep breath, acutely aware of how close he was to her, how good he smelled and how kind he’d been to rescue that seagull. It was the only excuse she had for what happened next.

  “Haley,” he murmured and lowered his head. “You’ve bewitched me.”

  “What?” she squeaked.

  “I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.”

  “Me?”

  “You.”

  “But why? I’m nothing special.”

  “You underestimate your beauty.”

  Yeah, right. Here she was with no makeup on, hair pulled back in a ponytail, wearing shapeless green hospital scrubs, and he was telling her she was beautiful. In a pig’s eye. “I’m fully aware of my physical attributes. I have nice legs, I’ll grant you that, and decent hair, but I’m no supermodel. I have a gap betwe
en my teeth and my eyes are just a little too wide set and my chin is too pointy—”

  “All those things come together to create an interesting face. Do you know how deadly dull most supermodels are? After a while they all look alike. Be proud of your distinctive looks. You’re an original.”

  “Oh,” she said because she was embarrassed by his compliments. She wasn’t accustomed to being buttered up and Jeb was slicker than olive oil. She could not forget that.

  “But as pretty as you are, it’s not your looks that intrigue me.” He stepped closer.

  “No?” She was barely breathing now.

  “Nope.”

  She gulped.

  “What I like most about you is your ethics.”

  “Yeah, that’s so sexy. Guys tell me all the time I have gorgeous ethics.”

  “They do?”

  “I’m being snarky.”

  “And your dry sense of humor. I like that, too, although I’m not sure I’m sharp enough to always get your jokes.”

  “You’re being humble?” Haley put a hand to her forehead and pretended to faint.

  “I like how grounded you are and how you set a good example for those around you.”

  “What’s this all about, Whitcomb?” she asked suspiciously. “Why are you flattering me?”

  “It’s not flattery. I’m being sincere.”

  She eyed him speculatively.

  “I know we butt heads and I want to smooth things out.”

  “Ah, you mean you want to convert me to your way of thinking.”

  “No,” he said, “not at all. Didn’t I mention that I like the way you challenge me? I just want to be clear that a little healthy disagreement is a welcome thing.”

  “I’ll remind you of that the next time I disagree with you.”

  “Do that.” He nodded vigorously.

  She wasn’t sure what to do. She’d never really seen this side of him. Of course, she’d never really been alone with him, either.

  The water lapped at the shore, a whispering, seductive rhythm. The breeze ruffled the leaves of the palms and the air smelled of coconut. The moon started its ascent up the sky.

  Jeb peered deeply into her eyes. His lips were so close, just inches away, and his chest was so bare, his skin so tanned and her knees so weak. Such enticing lips they were, angular and full, but not too full. What would his lips taste like? How would they feel against her mouth? What would they make her feel?

  She got trapped in his eyes. Trying to snap out of it, she lowered her lashes and her gaze became tangled up in the stunning view of his muscled torso. Jeb was like a pirate ready to plunder a cargo ship weighted with gold. Within her personal space, his unique masculine scent claimed her.

  “This is nice,” he murmured. “Being here with you.”

  “Nice,” she echoed.

  “You know,” he said, “if I didn’t—”

  But he never got to finish, because damn her, she’d just acted, which was something she never did—no one had ever accused her of being spontaneous—but in the moment, she went completely off the rails, flung her arms around his neck and kissed him.

  Haley didn’t know who was more surprised, her or Jeb.

  For a second, he simply stood there not kissing her back and she’d thought, What have I done?

  Then he groaned low in his throat, gathered her in his arms and pressed her to his chest. The chest she’d just been aching to touch. His abs were as taut and hard as she had imagined they would be.

  He made a deep, pent-up sound as his lips assailed her, his tongue striking like heated lightning on a still, cloudless day. Her body was stunned, thrilled. He tugged gently on her ponytail, tilted her head back and thrust his tongue farther inside of her.

  She clung to him.

  Moaned. Pulled him down to the sand. The soft-packed damp earth was cool against her spine and he was astride her, his knees sunk into the sand. He stared down into her eyes with wonder and shock. He was hard and she was—oh, this was the shameful part—she was whimpering for more.

  Her fingers plucked at the waistband of his shorts.

  His eyes darkened.

  Her heart thumped.

  His hands were all over her, burning her up, building sweet pressure within her body. Construction. He was a builder and she was the structure he was erecting. His lips laved hers, a pleasing foundation, a solid beginning, the underpinnings.

  He used small, quick kisses. And long, big, bold kisses that lasted for minutes. And at last, when she was certain that he couldn’t possibly do more, he covered her mouth with a kiss of considerable duration. A kiss that sizzled with energy and, like a tower of blocks, stacked one atop the other, rising higher and taller, reaching for the stars, sweeping the top of the moon, climbed to dizzying heights that promised she’d never, ever feel anything like this again.

  Just when she was about to rip off her clothes, bare herself to him and beg him to take her right there on the sand, Jeb had stood up and stepped away from her.

  “I can’t do this,” he said hoarsely.

  “Please,” she begged. Yes, she’d begged. “You can’t leave me like this.”

  “Haley—” he shook his head “—you deserve so much better.”

  He was turning her down?

  Shame shot through her. She couldn’t even interest a playboy? She jumped up, dusting off the seat of her scrubs.

  “I don’t mean to hurt you. Another time, another place and I’d be all over this, but there’s someone else and—”

  “Stuff it, Whitcomb,” she’d growled to hide her deep humiliation.

  “Haley.” The pain in his voice sounded genuine, but she wasn’t sticking around to find out. She’d run from him then, as fast as she could.

  She shoved the memory out of her mind and her eyes flew open. She stared up at the ceiling, and for a second, she was disturbed to see she wasn’t in her bed.

  Where was she?

  It hit her. Bricks. Tons of them. Falling in on her. The party. Rick. The suspect salty dog. Staggering to the bathroom.

  She’d spent the night in Jeb Whitcomb’s bed! Fully dressed in Ahmaya’s sexy Ann Taylor Loft spaghetti-strap dress and ridiculous stilettos. She had to get out of here.

  Now.

  She leaped off the mattress, landed wrong, staggered against the door. Strange, it felt as if the boat were moving—probably just the wake from a passing speedboat rocking the yacht in the marina slip. Except this motion felt a lot stronger than simple wake ripples.

  It felt as if they were under way.

  But they could not be under way. Jeb wouldn’t leave the dock with her on board. Surely he knew that someone was on board. His bedroom door had been locked. He had to know she was in here. Bedroom doors did not lock themselves from the inside. Besides, hadn’t Ahmaya come looking for her? Wasn’t her friend concerned?

  Alarmed, she unlocked the door and lumbered out into the hallway. No one was around, but the lower deck was as neat as a pin. Someone had cleaned up and she hadn’t even heard it? How long had she been out? Luckily, today was her day off from work, but still, this was unsettling. Where was Jeb?

  Slowly, she climbed the stairs to the next deck. “Hello?” she called out. “Jeb? Anybody?”

  No answer.

  With a sick feeling settling in the pit of her stomach and her head throbbing as if there were a miniature construction crew up there whacking down walls with a sledgehammer, she eased up the final set of stairs to the bridge and looked around.

  She spied Jeb at the helm with his back to her, his whiskey-colored hair blowing in the breeze, a serious set to his shoulders.

  Reality hit like the slap of a palm against her cheek. Not only were they under way, but it was also late afternoon, and there was nothing around as far as the eye could see except for miles and miles of turquoise ocean.

  5

  Sheet—The line used to let out or trim in a sail

  “WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

  Startled, Jeb w
hipped around to see a woman standing behind him. The hairs on the nape of his neck lifted. What the heck?

  It was Haley, her hair in a mad tangle, her dress rumpled, her eyes blazing sparks.

  His stomach lurched. He was so stunned to see her there that all he could say was “I…I…um…uh…I…”

  “Where are we? Where are we going? Why are we not in the marina? Why are you kidnapping me?” She spit out rapid-fire questions, her tone accusatory.

  Flabbergasted, his jaw dropped. “Kidnapping you? Why are you stowing away on my boat?”

  “I didn’t stow away. It was not my intention to stow away. I am not a stowaway.”

  “And yet here you are.” He engaged the autohelm so he could give her his full attention and turned to face her.

  “You took off without my permission.”

  “Clearly, you spent the night aboard without my permission.” He raked his gaze over her. How could he not have known she was on board? “Or without my knowledge.”

  “Turn this boat around and take me back to shore,” she demanded.

  “Excuse me?”

  She raised her chin, indignant. “You heard me.”

  Jeb laughed.

  “Stop laughing at me.” She scowled. “This isn’t the least bit funny.”

  “It’s a little bit funny.”

  “Not from my perspective.”

  “Seriously, French, do you ever see the humor in a situation?”

  She looked hurt then, but quickly blinked it away. “I was a bit rude earlier. Excuse me. It was just an eye-opener to wake up and discover I’m out to sea.”

  “Apology accepted.”

  “Now, please return me to shore.”

  Jeb shook his head. “Sorry, no can do.”

  She stepped closer. “Why not?”

  “For one thing, we’ve been under way since dawn.”

  “What time is it now?”

  “Three-fifteen p.m.”

  “Three fifteen! That means we’ve been gone—”

  “Eight and a half hours.”

  The column of Haley’s throat moved in a visible gulp. “You have to take me back.”

  “I don’t like this situation any better than you do, but I can’t.” He was already wondering how this was going to look to Jackie, showing up at her wedding with another woman. He couldn’t show up at the wedding with Haley. Once he’d cleared customs and immigrations in Key West, he’d stick her on a plane back to St. Michael’s. Jackie would never know.