Smooth Sailing

by Lori Wilde

  “What do you mean, you can’t?”

  “I have to get to Key West by Saturday. It’s doable, but only if the winds and currents cooperate. If I take you back, I don’t stand a chance. We have to crab the tempestuous Gulf Stream and that’s always a crapshoot, although luckily, the weather report indicates smooth sailing.”

  “Crab?”

  “In order to compensate for the Gulf Stream current, you have to sail a bit to the side of the actual course in order to reach it.”

  “I get it. Moving sideways like a crab.”

  “That’s it.”

  She surprised him by plucking the sunglasses from the pocket of his shirt, her fingers lightly—accidentally—grazing over his nipple, and his body responded immediately.

  Dammit!

  She slid his sunglasses onto her face, and a surge of something dark and sexy moved through him.

  “Go right ahead. Make yourself at home. What’s mine is yours,” he said.

  “Do you mind? I have a headache, and since you did kidnap me—”

  “Didn’t kidnap you. Had no idea you were on board.”

  “Nonetheless, I’m out to sea against my will without my sunglasses.”

  “Too much wine last night?”

  “Too much salty dog with some kind of drug in it.”

  “What?” Alarm rippled through him.

  “Why else do you think I was passed out in your bedroom for sixteen hours? Alcohol alone wouldn’t knock someone out that long.”

  “Cabin.”

  “What?”

  “A bedroom on a boat is called a cabin.”

  She waved a hand. “Whatever. Anyway, I have a strong suspicion that creepy respiratory therapist Rick Armand spiked my salty dog with something.”

  Part of him wanted to say that if she hadn’t tried to escape him by running off with Armand that it wouldn’t have happened, but another, stronger part of him had a vivid image of grabbing Armand by the throat and shaking him until his eyes popped out of his head or his mustache fell off, whichever came first. “The creep drugged you?”

  Massaging her temple, Haley told him what had happened to her the previous night.

  “I’m truly sorry,” he apologized, “that this happened to you at my party.”

  “It wasn’t your fault. Rick is a sleazebag. I already suspected it, but now it’s confirmed. I was going to make a report to the St. Michael’s police, but by the time I get there the drug will long be out of my system and there’s no way I can prove he did it. All I can do is warn the women at the hospital to be wary of him.”

  “I’d help you do it, too, if I were going back.”

  She grimaced. “So I am being kidnapped.”

  “Not kidnapped. Whisked away for a few days. Think of it as a vacation. When we get to Florida, I’ll put you on a plane back to St. Michael’s.”

  “In the meantime, I’m stuck with you.”

  “Is that so horrible?”

  Her grin was tiny. “Could be worse, I suppose. I could be stuck out here with Rick the dick.”

  “Over my dead body,” he said vehemently.

  “So why are you crossing the Gulf Stream?”

  “I have to stop a wedding.”

  For the first time since she’d come onto the bridge, she looked something besides distressed, upset or angry. Curiosity sparked in her eyes. “Whose wedding?”

  “My ex-girlfriend is getting married to a guy that she’s only known for a month.”

  “And you don’t think she should marry him?”

  “She should marry me,” he declared.

  “You?” Haley hooted as if it was the funniest thing she’d ever heard.

  Annoyed, Jeb frowned. “Why do you find that so humorous?”

  “Hey, five minutes ago you were accusing me of not having a sense of humor. I just never pictured you as the marrying kind.”

  Actually, neither had Jeb, but since Jackie had started him off on his personal journey, he really had started to change. Going to St. Michael’s was the most monumental thing he’d ever done.

  “So what’s the story?” Haley sat down on the hammock and reached down to unbuckle the stilettos from around her gorgeous feet.

  It did weird things to him to think about her sweet fanny sitting where he’d just been sleeping. It felt strangely intimate. Just as intimate as when he thought about her having spent the night in his bed, and dammit, he’d missed it.

  Seriously, what was wrong with him? He was talking about marrying Jackie, and here Haley’s delicious bare pink toes wriggling against the deck were turning him on. Maybe he hadn’t changed as much as he’d thought.

  Haley rocked gently in the hammock, swinging back and forth with mesmerizing motion.

  Jackie, Jackie, Jackie, he chanted to remind himself of his goal. He was going to Key West to stop Jackie from marrying this Coast Guard Scott character.

  Jeb tried to call up his former girlfriend’s face, but to his complete shock, for one blind instant, he could not remember what Jackie looked like. When he tried, he couldn’t picture anyone except for Haley. Alarmed, his mind raced through his mental cache of old girlfriends—Kellie, Ashley, Heather, Robin, Brenna, Jane, Erin, Sophia, Lucy, Emily, Rachel, Jackie.

  Nada.

  He couldn’t call up any of them because the woman in front of him was absorbing every bit of his attention.

  A leopard can’t change its spots, Jackie had told him.

  Jeb was determined to prove that wasn’t true. He could settle down. More than that, he wanted to settle down. This was all a startling new development.

  Haley put out a toe to the bench seat. “Have a seat and tell me about her.”

  “Who?”

  “This woman you’re crabbing the Gulf Stream for.”

  “You don’t want to hear about her.”

  “Why not?”

  “Why?”

  “Because,” Haley said, “this is the most real I’ve ever seen you. For once, instead of being a guy regularly idolized by adoring females, you’re the one behind the eight ball.”

  “You’re enjoying my misery, aren’t you?”

  She slanted her head, grinned and winked. “Not at all. I just enjoy getting a glimpse at the human being lurking behind the slick facade.”

  *

  MAYBE IT WAS BECAUSE she was overwhelmed at finding herself all alone with Jeb Whitcomb in the middle of the ocean on his yacht with St. Michael’s eight and half hours behind them. Maybe it was the lingering effect of being drugged and the dull headache that had settled behind her eyes. Or maybe it was the fact that what Jeb was doing was so romantic it disarmed her.

  “Jackie’s the reason that we…that you…that we didn’t do it that night on the beach?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “Well,” she said, “that makes me feel a little better. I thought it was me.”

  “Oh, no, ma’am. Not you. Not by a long shot. In fact, your very sexiness is what had me turning tail and running. I was not going to fall back into old habits.”

  That should have cheered her up, but it didn’t and she couldn’t say why.

  Aw, c’mon. You know the reason why. You’re jealous of this Jackie woman.

  He kept talking about her, which was annoying, particularly since Haley was the one who had encouraged the conversation in the first place. Then he told her that Jackie was the daughter of the world-renowned oceanographer Jack Birchard. But of course, Jeb was in love with someone of his own ilk…a rich celebrity type. It was stupid of her to think he might fall for a lowly nurse.

  Holy Oreos.

  Was that what she was secretly hoping? That Jeb would fall in love with her? Ashamed of herself, Haley pushed his sunglasses farther up on her nose, thankful that her eyes were hidden from him. She didn’t want him seeing her thoughts written on her face.

  She should get over herself and be happy for him. Well, except that the woman he was in love with apparently loved someone else. Wasn’t that just the way of
love? Fickle. Stupid. Love oughta be banned.

  “So,” he said, “I do appreciate your patience and understanding.”

  “I gotta call Ahmaya.” She jumped up. “She’s going to be freaking out.”

  “You might not be able to get cell-phone reception out here. We are pretty far from shore.”

  “I have to try.” Where was her purse? Down in Jeb’s cabin, no doubt. “I’ll be right back,” she said and hurried to the lower deck.

  She found her purse on the floor of his bedroom, fished out her cell phone and put a call in to Ahmaya.

  “Haley!” Ahmaya answered on the first ring. “You naughty girl.”

  “Naughty?”

  “Spending the night with Jeb Whitcomb after you pretended not to like him. I knew you really had a crush on him.”

  “I did not spend the night with him.”

  “Your car was still in the marina parking lot when I left the yacht at two o’clock.”

  “Why didn’t you come looking for me?”

  “I did. You were nowhere to be found and now I know why.”

  Static crackled over the airwaves. “Ahmaya, I don’t know how long the connection is going to last, so just listen to me.”

  Quickly, she explained the situation.

  “That’s awful!” Ahmaya said. “I knew that Rick couldn’t be trusted.”

  “Anyway, will you tell the director of nurses I had an emergency situation?” That was true enough. “And I need to take a week of vacation.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry, Haley.”

  “What for?”

  “You finally get to be all alone with Jeb and you find out he’s got a thing for another woman. That’s gotta hurt.”

  “I’m fine, really,” she said, but her heart gave a strange little tug.

  “Be—”

  The phone cut out.

  “Ahmaya? Are you there?”

  Nothing.

  “Ahmaya?”

  Dead.

  Well, at least she’d gotten through long enough to let Ahmaya know where she was. Sighing, Haley hung up. She’d just lost her last contact with the outside world. It felt monumentally scary to realize she was out on the open sea. Stuck in this skimpy party dress. For six days. With Jeb Whitcomb.

  Six days.

  And five nights.

  Right. Too bad she couldn’t stay down here in the cabin for the duration of the trip. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her of one major reason she couldn’t stay down here. She hadn’t eaten anything since the hors d’oeuvres the previous evening and she was starving.

  As if by magic, she caught a whiff of something delicious. Bacon. Yum.

  Drawn by the scent, she went to the galley.

  Jeb stood at the stove frying up bacon through a brown haze. Oops. Not a brown haze. Brown lenses. She was still wearing his sunglasses. She slipped them off her face and she could see him clearly now. Far too clearly if the truth be told.

  His feet were bare, showing off very sexy toes. Who knew toes could be sexy? His hair was windblown, his cheeks bronzed. He looked every inch the wealthy yachtsman.

  “Did your call go through?”

  “Just in the nick of time. I lost the signal, but Ahmaya’s going to make my excuses to the director of nurses.”

  “I appreciate your being such a good sport about this, Haley, but I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said. “You’re at your best when you’re helping people.”

  “Hey, I’m simply along for the ride, reluctantly, I admit, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I really can’t expect you to spend over eight hours returning me to the island when you’re on a mission to win back the woman of your dreams.”

  “Thanks for understanding.” He pushed a tall glass of iced tea toward her. “Drink. It’s easy to get dehydrated on the water, and after what Armand pulled, you need to flush out your system.”

  “Thanks.” She took the glass of tea. It was so refreshing and cool, she sucked down the whole thing in nothing flat.

  “I thought you might be hungry, too.” He flipped bacon.

  “I could gnaw the arm off that chair.”

  “No need. I’m making BLTs. You do eat meat, don’t you?”

  “I try not to eat red meat too often, but I love it.” Unable to resist the enticing aroma any longer, she reached over to filch a piece of bacon from the cooling rack. Crisp, crunchy, salty. Perfect. “May I help?”

  “You can slice up a tomato.” He pointed at the garden-ripe beefsteak tomatoes in the wicker basket on the table.

  “I can’t believe you know how to cook,” she said, plucking a tomato knife from the Calphalon knife block resting on the granite countertop.

  “Why’s that?”

  “I figure you grew up with cooks and servants at the ready to do your bidding.”

  “I did,” he admitted. “But my mother believed her sons should know how to prepare a meal, so she got the cook to teach us.”

  “The cook?”

  “We had live-in help.”

  “Smart mother. I like her style.”

  Jeb shot her a sideways glance. “She would like you, too. You’re not an Airy.”

  “An Airy?”

  “That’s what she called my girlfriends. Airy, short for airhead. Except for Jackie. Jackie is the opposite of an airhead.”

  “Like me?”

  “Like you,” he echoed, his gaze warming her skin.

  “So you date airheads for fun, but when you decide to get serious, you go in the other direction.”

  “I was never serious about Jackie until she dumped me. We’ve known each other since we were young and she was more a friend than anything else, but when she told me she had no interest in life with a playboy, well, I gotta admit that it hurt my feelings.”

  “I’m liking Jackie more and more.”

  “Because she hurt my feelings?”

  “Because she pushed you in the right direction.” This was such a bizarre conversation to be having with the man she was half hung up on. Okay. She was admitting it. She liked Jeb. Stupid time to find out. Or maybe she only liked him because she knew there was little danger of him liking her back now that he was hot to stop Jackie from marrying someone else.

  “Honestly,” he said, “I never thought Jackie would get married. She’s so wrapped up in her work.”

  “Maybe that’s why you were dating her in the first place.” Haley washed two plump tomatoes in the sink, scrubbed the tender red skin. “Because she wasn’t a threat to your bachelorhood.”

  “Then why do I want her back?”

  “Because you can’t have her. We always want most what we can’t have.”

  He shifted his stance to look at her. “Do you really believe that?”

  She shrugged. “It’s a theory.”

  “I just know I have to see her.”

  “So,” Haley said, desperate to talk about something else besides the love of his life, “how many brothers and sisters do you have?”

  “Two half brothers and a half sister. Three stepsisters and a stepbrother.”

  “That’s a lot.”

  “My parents—” he waved a hand “—have trouble staying married.”

  “No full siblings?”

  “Nope.”

  “Where are you in the birth order?”

  “My dad had a daughter when he married my mother. They had me and then got divorced. Dad remarried a woman with two daughters. My mother remarried a man with a son. Then my mother and her second husband had a son and daughter and my dad and his fourth wife—”

  “Fourth?”

  “It seems to have stuck this time. He and Pam had a son. My half-brother Benjamin is five.”

  “And your mother?”

  “She and Chet have been married twenty years now, so that’s working out, too.”

  “I’m dizzy just hearing about it. How do you keep up with everyone?”

  “It’s old hat to me.” He shrugged.

  “I bet Christmas at your house is wild.
”

  “I got tons of presents. When parents feel guilty for not giving you enough attention, they tend to buy your love.”

  Poor guy. It sounded as if he’d been shuffled from pillar to post and been bought off. No wonder he was a bit materialistic. “What does your dad do for a living?”

  “Runs the family business.”

  “Which is?”

  “Shipbuilding.”

  “You weren’t interested in that?”

  “I like building houses. It’s nice creating homes for people.”

  “That sounds odd coming from a playboy bachelor.”

  “Construction is in my background, but I want to blaze my own trail. Besides,” he said a bit sheepishly, “I mostly build vacation condos.”

  “Did you take a big hit when the housing bubble burst?” Haley concentrated on neatly slicing the tomatoes and tried to ignore how close they were standing to each other and how good it felt to be near him.

  He nodded. “But I have a trust fund from my grandparents and it gives me flexibility to do other things.”

  “Like rebuilding St. Michael’s.”

  “Yes.”

  “Which you wouldn’t have done if Jackie hadn’t dumped you.”

  He shrugged, looked chagrined. “Probably not.”

  “So Jackie did a lot for your personal growth.”

  “She did.” He turned the gas burner off and blotted grease from the bacon with a paper towel. “What about you? Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “One of each. Both younger.”

  A head of iceberg lettuce rested beside the sink. He picked it up, smacked the bottom against the counter and pulled the core from it. He tore the sturdy leaves with long, tanned fingers.

  Giddy buoyancy bubbled up inside of her. She had no explanation for it. It was probably a residual effect of being drugged the night before.

  “Tim is in the Peace Corps after getting his degree in sociology, and Phoebe is still in college studying green technologies.”

  “Sounds like you come from a family of helpers.”

  “I do,” she said proudly. “My parents are teachers and every summer they take part in a teachers-without-borders program. When I was growing up, St. Michael’s was where they volunteered. They’ve been married thirty years and are as much in love today as on their wedding day.”