Rock the Boat: A Griffin Bay Novel

by Starling, Lib

  “What’s up?” Jordan’s voice close at hand made Davis jump and turn guiltily, but she seemed coolly unconcerned with his presence. She, too, watched Emily at work on the mast, and Davis allowed his gaze to flick over her smooth, confident face, her soft mouth, the pale skin of her neck. Then he swallowed hard and returned his attention to Emily.

  “Anchor light’s out again,” Storm said as he locked Emily’s line into a cleat.

  Jordan sighed. “I’ve got to get Uncle Ted to look at the wiring again. That light should really last longer than it does.”

  “All set,” Emily called. Her voice sounded tiny and faint from that great distance.

  Storm uncleated the line and eased Emily back down the mast.

  When her feet touched the deck again, she caught Davis’s avid stare and grinned. “Want to try it?” Then she turned to Jordan with a pleading look.

  “I don’t know,” Jordan said.

  “Oh, we’ll be really careful with him. Won’t we, Storm?”

  “You bet.”

  Jordan’s face went stony; Davis was certain she would refuse. But then she muttered, “Why not? It won’t be the most unprofessional thing I’ve ever done.” She told her crew in a commanding voice, “As long as you’re careful. And you,” she added to Davis, looking him squarely in the eye for the first time since their last tangle in the cabin. “No screwing around up there.”

  Emily whooped with joy while Storm showed Davis how to strap himself into the sling. Davis still wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to do something this crazy, but it seemed the crew had made the decision for him. His stomach was a knot of nerves by the time Storm began to crank the winch. The bosun’s chair pulled taut around his body, then lifted him smoothly off his feet.

  When the deck of the Coriolis fell away beneath him, Davis felt possessed by a sweeping fear unlike any he’d known before. He stared down at the boat as it pulled away from him—as it, and the three people who watched him, shrank to the size of toys. He felt completely out of control, barely even capable of breathing. Nothing had ever intimidated him so much—not even his first concert. The mast swayed even more than the boat’s deck did, like a tree rocked by a wind storm, although the morning was perfectly calm. Davis’s fingers were locked tight around the straps of the harness. But when he tore his eyes from the deck far below and gazed out over the islands, his fear turned to an incredible, soaring elation.

  Nothing in his life had ever looked so beautiful, so inspiring. He came to rest at the top of the mast and gazed around, awe-struck. The water was like a blue-gray mirror, smooth, bright, and reflective. From this vantage he could see far more islands than he’d glimpsed from the deck of the boat—there were dozens of them, maybe hundreds, if you counted the little mossy rocks scattered along the shores of their larger kin. The sea was like a silvery path curving and wandering between whole ranges of enchanted green mountains. The world itself seemed to unroll around him, and no matter what direction he looked, he saw beauty, inspiration, possibility. A hundred different futures lay along those mystical paths, waiting for him to seek them out, to choose who he would become. And each potential life was as breathtaking as the islands that clustered darkly in the glittering water.

  Before he knew what he was doing, Davis whooped and pumped a fist in the air. He could hear Storm and Emily laughing and cheering far below. Then, giving in to his natural, instinctive desire for thrills on top of thrills, he began to sway with the boat’s gentle rocking. He didn’t really understand what he was doing—he was simply carried away by exhilaration, by the joy of knowing that even if he didn’t know just what his future would be yet—even if he didn’t know exactly what he’d tell Tyler when he got home—he did have a future out there somewhere, waiting for him. And it was going to be amazing.

  His weight at the end of the mast was like a pendulum; the swaying magnified until the boat below him swung heavily side to side on its wide, pale ribs.

  “Whoa,” Storm called up from the deck. “Take it easy, Davis!”

  Davis caught himself against the mast and noticed with a dizzy lurch just how much the boat was rocking. Vigorous ripples emanated out from its sides, and Jordan and Emily crouched down, holding tight to the stanchions. As the mast sailed through the arc of its swing again, one of the rigging lines smacked Davis painfully in the face. The sting of the impact made him gasp. And all at once he was aware of a humming sound, the lines of the rigging vibrating all around him, quivering with tension and movement. The booms and gaffs below him swung hard against their ties.

  Storm began to lower him back to the deck. He came down faster than he’d gone up—captain’s orders, Davis suspected. And long before he touched down, he could tell his suspicion was correct. Jordan’s face was red; she made no attempt now to hide her fury.

  “What was that all about?” she snapped. “I said no screwing around.”

  “I’m sorry,” Davis said as Emily helped him out of the bosun’s chair. “It was just—”

  “Sorry doesn’t cut it! You don’t listen, Davis! You’re so stuffed inside your own damn head that you don’t stop and think about anybody else—what you’re doing to anybody else!”

  Storm placed a gentle hand on Jordan’s shoulder, and Emily said quietly, “Okay, captain. I think he gets it.”

  Jordan rounded on Emily. “He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get a damn thing.” Then she stomped away down the Coriolis’s deck and disappeared into its cabin. As she ducked through the hatch, Davis was sure he saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

  Face hot with embarrassment, Davis turned to the crew with a look of chagrin. Emily and Storm seemed startled by the vehemence of Jordan’s anger, but Davis accepted the ass-chewing with the best grace he could muster. He knew Jordan’s feelings had little to do with his foolish behavior in the bosun’s chair. This was about much more—about everything that had passed between them during those few precious hours when they’d been alone.

  “Wow,” Emily said quietly. “Davis, I’m so sorry. She’s not usually like that.”

  Storm nodded thoughtfully, staring at the hatch where Jordan had vanished. “I don’t know what’s going on with her, but this definitely isn’t the captain we know and love.”

  “It’s okay, guys.” Davis tried to smile, but it slid off his face like melted butter. “I… I understand. Let’s all just let it go. I’ve finally realized how great these islands are, and I want to enjoy them while I’ve still got a little time left here on the boat.”

  “Sure,” Emily said. “You got it. Storm, let’s go get everything ready. We’ll be getting underway soon.”

  When the crew had left him, Davis went to the bow of the Coriolis and stared out at the scenery, but the beauty of the morning did nothing to calm his nerves. He could still feel his heart pounding—from the thrill of the view high atop the mast as much as from Jordan’s anger. He wished he could go to Jordan—comfort her, tell her he deserved all her bitterness and more. He wished he could tell her how sorry he was that it was going to end like this. But he knew Jordan wouldn’t want to hear it. All he could do was console himself with the view that surrounded him, searching the seascape for the answer to his question: where was Davis Steen’s life going next?

  .16.

  “Jordy?” Emily’s voice called softly through the cabin door. “You in there?”

  Of course I’m in here, Jordan thought peevishly. Where else would I be?

  She knew the moment she heard Emily’s voice that she was in for a tongue-lashing. Granted, Emily only ever offered the gentlest of scoldings, but it would be a scolding nonetheless. They had been best friends nearly their whole lives, and Jordan had never known Emily to hold back when harsh words were deserved. And Jordan well knew that she deserved a thorough bitching-out. She had let all her bottled-up feelings about Davis get the better of her, and she’d made herself look like a fool—and had behaved far less professionally just now, yelling at Davis over a total non-issue—than she’d behaved when
she’d stripped naked in his cabin.

  With a contrite sigh, Jordan opened her cabin door. She flopped back on her berth quickly, before she could see Emily’s face, and pulled a pillow over her own face, hiding from the disapproval she knew she would see in her friend’s eyes.

  “Smother me with this pillow,” she told Emily. “Captain’s orders. Put me out of my misery.”

  Emily laughed gently, stretching out on the bunk next to Jordan. “I can’t smother you. Storm and I are both terrible at steering this huge-ass boat. We need you to get us back to Griffin Bay.”

  “Then throw me overboard as soon as we get back to the marina.”

  “That won’t do much good. There aren’t any man-eating sharks in the Salish Sea.”

  Jordan couldn’t help smiling a little into her pillow, though mortification still buzzed along her nerves, throbbing all the way down to her toenails. “Maybe the harbor seals will take mercy on me, and chew me to bits.”

  Emily pulled Jordan’s pillow away. She lay on her side, head propped up on one hand. After a moment of expectant silence, Jordan turned on the berth, too, lying face to face with Emily. She sniffled miserably, but she was grateful for her friend’s comfort.

  “What’s going on?” Emily asked.

  Jordan gritted her teeth. “I just…” No more words would come.

  As much as she loved Emily, as much as she trusted her, Jordan couldn’t tell her the truth. Wouldn’t it surprise the hell out of her her, to know how spontaneous I can actually be when I put my mind to it!

  But Jordan just couldn’t admit she’d had sex with Davis. Twice! She knew Emily wouldn’t lose any respect for her—Em wasn’t the judgmental type—but Jordan wasn’t entirely sure she respected herself now. It wasn’t the sex that made her feel that way. It was the way she reacted to Davis—to his cocky, unflappable, self-assured rich-and-famousness. It was what Davis represented to Jordan—every infuriating client who had ever treated her like a peon, a less-than, a know-nothing kid who had no business skippering her own boat.

  Why had she gotten herself entangled with that? Just because Davis was hot? Scorchingly hot… and irresistible, with his confident, swaggering attitude… and so incredible in bed it made her knees feel like Jell-O even as she lay on her berth.

  But that confusing welter of emotions, clouding her thoughts and shortening her temper whenever Davis was near, wasn’t even the worst of it. The truth was, Jordan was shocked by the depth of her own feelings toward Davis. It scared her, how badly she craved his touch, his kisses—and the rest of him, too. It angered her, the way his warm, luscious smell could distract her even while she was at the helm, while she was doing what she loved most in tall the world.

  He shouldn’t get to occupy this much space in my head or my heart. He’s just some rich prick, just some arrogant jerk who used me for a good time. And I let him do it, like a sucker. Twice.

  Davis wasn’t a man who respected her, who even liked her. He didn’t deserve all these warm, fuzzy feelings Jordan had for him—quite against her will, of course. But no matter how much Jordan told herself that Davis was undeserving, there was no denying the feelings were there all the same… lurking in the most neglected corners of her heart.

  Finally, as Emily’s patient silence stretched on, Jordan took a deep breath and said, “I just don’t like Davis, Em. That’s all.”

  “I know you don’t.” Emily gave a bemused little laugh. “I just can’t figure out why. He’s such a nice guy!”

  “Ha. He is not a nice guy. He’s just like all the other charter clients—demanding, rude, pushy—”

  “But Jordan, he’s so not! This client is different. Storm and I have gotten to know him over the course of this trip, and we both like him a lot. Can’t you trust our judgment?” Emily’s big, blue eyes were pleading. It only made Jordan feel all the worse—more confused, more mistrustful of her own feelings.

  “I have to trust my own judgment on stuff like this,” she said gently.

  And her own judgment—every pulse-pounding instinct in her body—told her that Davis was the most desirable man she had ever met in her life. And the things he did to her in the confines of his cabin… Ruthlessly, she suppressed a shiver of bliss, afraid Emily would see it and know what it meant.

  “You know,” Emily said stoutly, and Jordan thought, Here it comes. “You are really stiff-necked sometimes.”

  She laughed weakly “Only sometimes?”

  “If you could just loosen up a little bit—just let go of some of this negativity and try to like Davis as much as Storm and I do—I think you’ll find a lot of good in him.”

  I’ve already loosened up enough, thanks.

  Jordan tried to pull the pillow back over her face, but Emily caught it and tossed it out of reach. “And you really do need to apologize to him,” Emily added.

  “I know.”

  “You may be on the verge of shutting down Sea Wolf Charters, but until that happens for sure, you’ve still got a reputation to worry about. With all due respect, Captian… what you did was pretty unprofessional.”

  “You’re right,” Jordan said at once. She was fully prepared to accept blame for the yelling incident. “I do owe him an apology, but I kind of think I’d rather gouge out my own eyeballs with a spoon than admit to a rich, famous rock star that I acted like a total jerk.”

  Emily smiled. “Don’t worry; he’ll accept your apology like a normal, humble human being.”

  “I don’t think Davis Steen knows the meaning of the word humble.”

  “I think he knows a lot more than you give him credit for. He won’t rub it in your face—you’ll see. He’ll be cool about it. And regardless, you know an apology is just the right thing to do.”

  Jordan bit her lip, but said nothing. Emily’s words might as well have been Jordan’s dad’s words. Or her mom’s… or the words of any of her five brothers and sisters. The Griffin family was big on integrity. Jordan had fallen down in that particular arena, and she felt an uncomfortable squeeze in her chest, the pressure of her whole, big family expecting her to do the right thing—waiting for her to make it right, to own up to her mistake. Doing the right thing was practically the Griffin code of honor. She couldn’t shake her need to at least try to make amends, any more than she could change the color of her eyes.

  “I have an idea,” Emily said suddenly. “What if we leave the boat anchored for the day? Aunt Susan’s little get-away cabin is just on the other side of this island. Storm and I could take the tender and stay in the cabin tonight, and leave you and Davis here to—”

  “No,” Jordan blurted.

  “Hear me out.”

  “No way.”

  Emily ignored Jordan’s frantic protest. “We could stay this last night at the cabin and let you and Davis have some time to hang out—to get to know each other.”

  Good God! We’ve already gotten to know each other enough, believe me!

  “It’ll give you plenty of time to talk things out privately, so you can make amends properly. Then there’ll be no danger of word getting out that you had a… a little incident with a client.”

  Jordan blushed, knotting her fingers together so she couldn’t clap her hands to her face in mortification. Oh, Em, if only you knew what kind of incidents I’ve had with this client. I’m pretty sure your head would explode.

  “You’ll get to know Davis that way,” Emily went on, “and you’ll see what Storm and I mean. He’s not as bad as you think.”

  Jordan squinted at Emily. “This is a somewhat unusual plan. Why do I feel like you must have an ulterior motive?”

  Emily shrugged. “Maybe I do. A little bit. Aside from the fact that I just plain like Davis, and want you to like him, too, maybe I suspect that if you get to know him—as a real person, not as just another spoiled-rich client—you’ll have a bit more sympathy for your clients in general, and you’ll want to continue on with Sea Wolf Charters.”

  Jordan groaned and rolled onto her back. “I reall
y don’t think that’s going to happen, Em. I’m sorry.”

  “Well, a girl can dream. Storm and I really like our jobs, and we want to keep sailing for you if we can. If we can get you to think more fondly of Davis Steen, Prince of Blasting Speakers Lord of the Inappropriate Dance, maybe this crazy charter gig can keep going for at least another year. Or two. Or twenty.”

  Jordan sighed. She did want to mend things with Davis—as much as she could. It had been terribly inappropriate to blow up at him; it wasn’t what a good captain should do, and it sure wasn’t what a member of the Griffin family would do. But a whole day and night alone with him? What might happen between them?

  Wild hope, and feared that was just as unruly, flared in her chest, making her cheeks burn. They might end up in one another’s arms again—and Jordan wasn’t sure whether she welcomed that possibility or not. Her attraction to him was magnetic, impossible to deny. Jordan hated that she couldn’t resist him, hated how badly she still wanted him even though she knew he had used her. Most of all, she hated how the memory of his touch still burned everywhere on her skin… how she could still feel his presence even in the privacy of her cabin.

  No one should be able to distract me this way—to control me this way.

  She hated Davis for the power he held over her body and her heart. The thought that in two days they’d part company and never see one another again was a relief to her—and a torment so great she thought she might suffocate under the weight of her longing.

  Maybe one more time alone together would be a good thing, after all. Even if nothing happened between them—and Jordan was determined to make sure it wouldn’t—she could at least learn something about Davis’s personality. If she was going to be haunted by the memory of his gorgeous body all the rest of her days, Jordan at least wanted to retain a few positive associations, aside from how hot the sex had been. She wanted to find something in Davis to like, not just to lust after.