by Jill Jaynes
Good thing for Stephanie, she didn't need luck. Not as long as he was around.
Chapter 3
"Damn, damn, damn," Stephanie whispered as she watched the resort's ridiculous pirate ship party boat—really nothing more than a motor yacht dressed up with some fake rigging and flags— head out of the small harbor.
Without her.
The roar of the engine reached her as the boat picked up speed, making a beeline for the small island a mere twelve unreachable miles away.
She would have howled her frustration, but her head throbbed with the headache she'd woken up with this morning. Late. Too late, apparently.
She'd raced to throw on some shorts and a tank top, hurriedly stuffed a few things into her beach tote, but it hadn't helped. Airplanes and island tour boats—two things that didn't wait. Who knew?
She had to get to that island. There was no or else. It was item number five on her list and she couldn't go home without tagging the shoreline, getting her picture and collecting some evidence. Without that, the rest of her list was useless. She knew her boss. He was an all-or-nothing kind of guy. "Almost is the same as didn't," he liked to say.
She would find a way. She was all about having a Plan B, and even Plans C and D. There had to be someone else with a boat who could take her out.
Peering from beneath the broad brim of her straw hat, she scanned the area for signs of life. A dozen or so yachts bobbed gently at their moorings along the catwalk docks in the resort's small marina.
Nope. Not a soul in sight.
She caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye, followed by the sound of someone whistling a tune. Sounded a lot like "Yo-ho, yo-ho a pirate's life for me."
Thank God. "Hello," she called. She hot-footed it down the catwalk towards the movement, then stopped in front of an eye-catching wooden sloop, a sleek forty-footer that looked built for racing. It was painted black, with the name Paradise Regained scrawled across the back in elegant gold lettering. Up on deck, a man crouched with his back to her.
"Hello there," she called, and the man stood. Her stomach sank as he turned toward her.
Rick. Why did it have to be him? Why did he have to look so hot, even this early in the morning? Even working on what had to be someone else's gorgeous yacht?
He was dressed in khaki shorts and a black t-shirt just tight enough to show off his nicely muscled chest. His light brown hair was pulled back in his usual ponytail and the sun glinted off his gold earring.
"Good morning." He shaded his eyes with one hand and smiled. "Didn't expect to see you up and about this early."
Stephanie swallowed hard, wishing she could turn and run. She didn't have a lot of memories about what had happened last night, but most of the ones she did have featured the man currently smiling at her with a welcoming warmth in his eyes.
Mostly she remembered getting really drunk and dancing with Rick in a way that would have made her college sorority sisters proud. That and the kiss that had blown the few still-operational fragments of her mind. Everything was pretty much a blank after that.
Which meant he knew more about what happened last night than she did. Which was bad. Very bad.
Suck it up, buttercup. She forced herself to smile and wave back. "Oh, hi! I was supposed to go to Paradise Island this morning." She cast a longing look after the dwindling shape of the party boat, as it took comfortable, simple, Option A with it. She squared her shoulders. She would make this happen. "I need a ride, to be honest. Any chance the owner of this yacht would let you take me over there? I'll pay you whatever you want."
His smile faltered. "I see." He sounded disappointed, as if he'd expected her to say something very different.
Damn, what had happened last night? They didn't. They couldn't have.
Had they?
He cleared his throat. "Well, actually I wanted to talk to you about—"
Oh, God, she so didn't want to have this conversation right now. She held up a hand to interrupt him. "I won't be any trouble, I promise. Except, obviously, for the trouble of going out of your way to take me." She pasted on what she hoped was a pleasant smile. "If you can just get me over there, I can come back on the party boat."
She held her breath as Rick hesitated for another half a beat. Then he smiled, a resigned sort of smile.
"Climb aboard, milady." He swept out one arm with a mock bow.
Stephanie made her way quickly to the side of the boat. She knew when to take yes for an answer. "Wow, thanks. You're a lifesaver."
"No problem," said Rick as he handed her up to step over the smooth wooden rail. "I was getting her ready to go out for a few hours today anyway."
"This thing is beautiful." She crossed the perfectly maintained teak deck, taking in the high polish of the detailed wood accents, from rails, to the bench seats to the roof of the cabin and its door. "A real classic." She trailed her fingers along the spoked captain's wheel that stood at the rear.
"Thanks," Rick said. "Um, I have a couple things to do before we get going. Feel free to stash your things below. Make yourself comfortable." He gathered up a bag from the deck near one of the bench seats.
"Don't mind if I do." Stephanie couldn't resist exploring the length of the deck. "I have to say, this is a gorgeous boat. Must've cost a pretty penny."
"Hmm, I suppose it did."
She headed below to put her beach tote inside. She wasn't surprised to find the interior as meticulously cared-for as the exterior. Gleaming dark wood cabinets, paneling and accent rails shouted understated quality. Deep blue cushions provided a welcoming seating area around a stationary table top. A typically tiny galley was neat, organized and boasted high-end fixtures. The owner had obviously spared no expense to shine this gem to bright perfection.
She returned topside to find Rick with his back to her, unpacking cans of soda into a cooler built into one of the bench seats on deck.
Plopping down on the bench seat opposite, she realized she was really looking forward to spending time on the water. She'd loved sailing since she was a little girl. When had she stopped doing it and what had she been thinking? Oh, yes. She'd been thinking she needed to spend some serious time on her career—catching up to, and passing, her uber-successful brothers.
She inhaled a deep, cleansing breath. This was going to be great. "You know, I'll tell you something else. It'll be kinda nice to get off the resort radar for a little while where the owner can't actually see me." She rolled her shoulders, relaxing more by the minute. "My boss is supposedly friends with him or something, and asked him to keep an eye on me. I know he probably means well, but it's a little creepy knowing someone's watching me all the time, you know?"
Rick appeared to freeze, a soda in his hand. Slowly he placed it into the cooler and closed the seat-lid. "Sure," he said. "I can see that." He rose and scooped up the now-empty bag. "Well, guess we'd better get moving if we're going to get you to that island."
Stephanie wondered why she felt like she'd just said something wrong. It finally struck her that after his initial friendly reaction to her this morning, he'd gotten really quiet, his responses to her comments to barely more than one word answers. "Good idea," she answered. She watched him disappear into the interior of the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Wow. What was that all about? She had about thirty seconds to wonder whether he was having second thoughts about taking her after all, when the door opened again and he emerged.
Without a word, he brushed past her towards the steering wheel. He checked the control panel beside it and fired up the motor. Then he was moving by her again, heading to the cleat at the front of the boat to untie it from the dock.
Stephanie stood rooted, feeling more like unwanted baggage by the minute. "I'm not useless, you know," she called to him where he squatted beside the cleat, unwinding the mooring line. "It would be better if we untied both the lines at the same time. Let me help."
"I've got it." Rick stood and moved briskly to the cleat at
the rear to untie the mooring line there.
Stephanie crossed her arms and frowned. "What do you want me to do, then?"
"Just have a seat there on one of the benches." He made his way past her to the wheel and began to throttle the engine into motion. "We'll be under way in a minute."
Ignoring him, Stephanie headed along the side of the cabin to stand at the front of the boat. As it began move she yelled back to Rick, "Cut her left, you're too close to the dock!"
The boat didn't change direction in the slightest. Stephanie yelled louder. "Cut her left!" She made her way back to where Rick stood. "Did you hear me? You need to cut more left."
She might as well have not existed for all the attention he paid her. Instead, he watched the side of the dock as the vessel continued to slide out of the slip. "I know what I'm doing," he said, keeping his gaze on the gap between the dock and the boat that was becoming a chasm too wide to jump. "Don't worry, we're fine."
"Two pair of eyes are better than one," grumbled Stephanie. "Never know when I might see something you don't."
She caught the quirk of his lips before he answered. "Done some sailing, I take it." He turned the wheel, expertly guiding the bow where he wanted it.
"Only since before I could walk." Stephanie crossed her arms and turned her back to him, refusing to show weakness and brace herself against the jump of the boat as Rick flipped the lever and reversed direction. They picked up speed as they headed for the mouth of the little harbor.
Rick gazed at Stephanie where she stood facing the front of the boat, stiff-backed and radiating annoyance and frustration. He couldn't help but grin a little at how damn easy she was to provoke. Good thing she couldn't see him grinning. Or admiring the way her long braid swung enticingly above her curvy behind, encased in tight shorts.
He was kind of annoyed himself, as a matter of fact. He'd had high hopes that she'd be interested in going sailing with him for more personal reasons than the one she had actually approached him with. Especially after the lip-lock she'd laid on him last night. Oh well, he knew there was a good chance she wouldn't remember much, if anything, of what had happened on the dance floor last night, or later in her room. She'd been pretty out of it. Couldn't blame a guy for hoping, though.
Then there was the fact that she didn't really know who he was. He'd have to do something about that soon. Not that he'd been trying to keep it a secret or anything. He just hadn't had a chance to properly introduce himself yet. He'd planned to do it last night at the beach party, but things had taken another turn. Nothing intentional about it, but he was pretty sure she wouldn't be pleased to find out he was actually the dreaded watchdog.
He decided he'd tormented her enough for now to soothe his ruffled pride.
"Up for a little sailing?" he called to her above the steady rumble of the engine. "I know you want to get to the island and catch up with the tour, but it's a really nice day for a sail if you have a little time."
She turned enough to narrow her eyes at him over her shoulder for a brief moment, but said nothing. If possible, her stance became even tighter and more disapproving. He could almost feel her thinking furiously. Finally, she turned and stalked back to him.
"Under one condition," she said, arms still crossed, her body swaying as she unconsciously accommodated the minor motion of the deck with ease.
She eyed the boat's wheel with the kind of naked desire he hoped she'd regard him with in the near future, if things went well. Interesting. She clearly had more than a passing acquaintance with sailing, more of a passionate love affair if he wasn't mistaken. He was tempted to give in and hand her control right then. But this condition could prove to be interesting.
"And what would that be?"
"Whatever happened last night, with you and me, I mean, we just forget about. Like it never happened." She stuck out her hand. "Deal?"
Fat chance. "What's in it for me?"
She paused, clearly taken aback. "Well, if you don't talk, I won't either. What if your boss found out that you made out with a guest at the party last night? Wouldn't want you to get in trouble or anything."
He met her gaze dead on and smiled. "Thanks, but I'll just stick with my memories."
"Oh." She blinked at him, seeming at a loss for words for once.
"You don't need to try that tactic on me," he continued. "Pretty sure my boss could figure that out without any help. There were plenty of witnesses who saw us on the dance floor."
She looked away and swallowed hard, her cheeks reddening at his words. "I know."
His heart softened. "You don't remember much about what happened last night, do you?" And it had her rattled.
He cut the engine power, letting the boat rock gently as it idled. "Come here for a minute." He took her hand and led her to sit beside him on a blue padded bench seat.
"I don't know what you think happened last night—well, I can guess what you think happened last night..." That earned him a small smile from her. "But the truth is nothing happened last night. Except for the kiss, that is." He squeezed her hand. "Not in any hurry to forget about that, by the way."
She looked up. "I remember that part at least." She sighed. "Honestly, I'm more worried about what I might have done last night than what you might have done." She shook her head. "Man! Last time I got that drunk that fast was in college. But that was on tequila. I swore I'd never do that again and I haven't."
Rick looked down at where their hands were still joined. He cleared his throat. "Um, that might not be strictly true. There could have been tequila involved last night, actually."
Stephanie jumped up. "How could that be? Was there tequila in that drink?" She pressed her hands to her cheeks. "Oh my God! How could you do that to me?"
Rick stood beside her and pulled her hands away from her face, holding them. "Look at me Stephanie. Nobody did anything to you. You never told me you couldn't have tequila or didn't want it. You ordered the drink of the day. Did you look at what was in it? It was on the sign."
"No, I didn't look at it." She hung her head. "I just assumed. What an idiot!"
"Then it was an accident. Don't worry about it. Accidents happen. Nothing happened. Except that you had a really good time that you apparently can't remember. Which is a shame because you are a smokin' hot dancer."
Stephanie groaned. "I kinda remember some of that. Who all did I dance with?"
Rick grinned at her. "Just a dozen or so frat boys, don't worry. I chased 'em off before they caused any trouble. You only went home with me."
She swallowed, and looked away. "Yeah? Well, that's the part I don't remember at all."
"Don't worry, you were a perfect lady. You didn't throw up or anything. Although you did try to pull me into your bed when I put you in it."
She gave him a searching look. "And nothing else happened?"
"Well, you snored a little once your head hit the pillow. But I won't hold that against you."
"Thanks," she said, her eyes serious. "You're a good guy."
"You can make it up to me later," he said with a smile. Here's hoping. "So what do you say we get moving? Daylight's a-burning and we have some sailing to do."
Stephanie smiled back. "You're the captain."
For a moment, struck by the beauty of that smile, Rick couldn't move. He almost couldn't breathe.
Her blue eyes sparkled with happiness and anticipation. The haunted, anxious look was gone. She looked fresh and wondering and excited about what the day would bring. Her brittle professional persona had dropped away like a bad dream. She was still in touch, and comfortable with, her underlying confidence. She just didn't wear it like armor.
This was his first glimpse of what he suspected was the real Stephanie and it made him want a lot more. "Right." Taking a breath, he collected himself and stepped towards the controls again. "We'll just get going then."
He guided the boat toward the mouth of the harbor, motoring at the speed limit until after they had passed the boundary. He picked up some
speed, then, and headed for open water.
The breeze was warm and steady. The turquoise water jumped in little crests before them, inviting them to come and run. Stephanie was nearly dancing from foot to foot with anticipation by the time Rick finally killed the engine.
"Want to give me a hand with the sails?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Stephanie grinned as she rose to join him, reveling in the simple, familiar tasks. The feel of the rope in her hands, the strain of her muscles as she and Rick worked to hoist the sails up the height of the mast, the satisfying snap as the wind filled them—this was the stuff of life reduced to its purest and most elemental form.
Rick set their course, harnessing the wind that would beat them back if it could, and the boat leaped to meet the beckoning waves. Soon they were running with seemingly effortless speed.
She seated herself on a bench seat near where Rick stood at the wheel, exulting in the feel of the boat dancing beneath her feet. She could swear it sang as it raced, doing exactly what it was made to do. Or maybe that was her.
"What a perfect sailing day." Rick kept a light hand on the wheel and a sharp eye on their course. "It's too bad you're in a hurry. We could stay out here a while and take advantage of it. But, hey, the customer's always right, and you want to get to that island."
"Screw the island." She closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun, breathing in the salt spray that tickled her nose. God, when was the last time she felt just this plain good? "What have I been doing all this time, that wasn't this?"
Rick chuckled. "I used to wonder that myself. Not anymore though."
"I say we keep going and see where the wind takes us," she said. "But you're the captain today. You decide."
"Like I said, the customer's always right."
Stephanie lost track of time as they sailed across the turquoise water, racing seabirds and a couple of groups of curious dolphins.
They talked about this and that and nothing in particular. About sailing, about siblings and a few childhood stories. Rick had apparently grown up sailing like her, but on the East Coast instead of the west. He'd gone to college there, too, then decided to take a break down here in the islands and experience a different side of life.