One Wild Night: Magnate′s Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant! / Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress / The Good, the Bad and the Wild
One Wild Night: Magnate's Mistress...Accidentally Pregnant! / Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress / The Good, the Bad and the Wild
Heidi Rice
Natalie Anderson
Kimberly Lang
Magnate's Mistress… Accidentally Pregnant!Ally Smith may have dumped a cheating fiancé, but she refuses to miss her Caribbean honeymoon! One night with sexy stranger Chris Wells is the perfect heartbreak cure – until she finds out she’s pregnant with the billionaire’s baby!Hot Boss, Boardroom MistressWhen self-made millionaire Jared James set out to bed Amanda Winchester, it was payback for rejecting him all those years ago. But, when the tycoon discovers that he’s taken Amanda’s virginity, he can’t resist going back for more…The Good, the Bad and the WildScriptwriter Nick Delisantro is famed for his ruthless charm, but innocent researcher Eva leaves him speechless! He’s sure just one night will get her out of his system. But he’s underestimated how addictive it is to send a good girl wild.
One Wild Night
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant!
Kimberly Lang
Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress
Natalie Anderson
The Good, the Bad and the Wild
Heidi Rice
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ubb2ecff2-d7fb-5dd7-872b-150f62194ddf)
Title Page (#u05631485-4481-5833-9ca1-73966b56b304)
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant! (#u4dba52ee-7903-5197-97ae-6be7cdcd3229)
About the Author (#uaf4791a7-94a3-5ff4-90ca-7b36a1faf5f2)
Dedication (#u14a7e2b7-3893-580c-8c09-27a154651c5f)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub3369cc5-e8b4-50bd-827b-305b1f95fdcf)
CHAPTER TWO (#u903cffe1-6791-5c24-a2dd-7613e4467fef)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc7308733-8c62-5541-98f0-ececedf8bf9a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u7b05b6ad-f320-545a-b7cc-f1eebad8bbd5)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u493332a4-efee-5596-9b26-01ed3bfcd622)
CHAPTER SIX (#u0817894d-a295-5267-a5fb-2446162bc077)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u704b19a6-a458-50bb-a4fb-e589ca193755)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u06d062e4-cdfa-5d87-83f2-d7da50475dca)
CHAPTER NINE (#uc0f15ee4-9781-5b82-810d-7e6dc77bacc6)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
The Good, the Bad and the Wild (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant! (#ulink_88cfac4f-867d-5ef6-bac9-8ad0ce1fb911)
KIMBERLY LANG hid romance novels behind her textbooks in secondary school, and even a Master’s programme in English couldn’t break her obsession with dashing heroes and happily ever after. A ballet dancer turned English teacher, Kimberly married an electrical engineer and turned her life into an ongoing episode of When Dilbert Met Frasier. She and her Darling Geek live in beautiful North Alabama with their one Amazing Child—who, unfortunately, shows an aptitude for sports. Visit Kimberly at www.booksbykimberly.com (http://www.booksbykimberly.com) for the latest news—and don’t forget to say hi while you’re there!
To my beautiful, clever, and all-around Amazing Child—although it will be many years before you are old enough to read this book (thirty, at least, if your father has any say in the matter), let me remind you that tonight, at dinner, you told me you wanted to be a romance writer like me when you grew up because it was ‘cool’. You know what? I think you’re cool, too, and you can be anything you want to be when you grow up—well, except maybe a flamingo.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_bbcb94ec-ba2a-51e3-901a-3a6b476af87f)
NOTE TO SELF: never prepay your honeymoon.
Ally Smith sat on the beach under a tattered umbrella nursing her watered-down piña colada and wondered why that caveat didn’t make it into any of the wedding planning books. Probably because no one plans a wedding with escape clauses.
She should write her own book for brides-to-be. She’d definitely include a chapter on cancellation clauses, the folly of prepayments and how to mitigate the financial toll of lost deposits. Oh, and some fun stuff like how to build a nifty bonfire with three hundred monogrammed cocktail napkins.
And a chapter on how to know you’re marrying the wrong guy.
She dug her toes into the warm sand and watched the sailboats bobbing on the waves as they made their way into and out of the marina just down the beach. Why hadn’t she pushed harder for the trip to Australia where she could at least be snow skiing right now? June in Oz was supposed to be fabulous. Why had she let Gerry talk her into this when they lived just twenty minutes from the Georgia coast—a popular honeymoon destination in and of itself? She could go to the beach anytime she wanted. She didn’t have to fly to the Caribbean for sand and surf.
Because I was too happy to finally be engaged.
In the four months since she’d happened home at lunchtime to find Gerry having a nooner with their travel agent—which explained why he’d insisted they use her to begin with, and probably also why Ally was booked into the worst hotel on the island—she’d come to realize some hard truths: she’d picked good looks and charm over substance, and she should have dumped Gerry-the-sorry-bastard four years ago.
Now, two days into her “honeymoon,” she was bored out of her mind.
“Is this seat taken, pretty lady?”
The low, gruff voice pulled her out of her reverie. Shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun, she turned to find the source of the question.
And nearly spit out her drink as she ended up eye level with the smallest swimming trunks ever made, straining over a body they were never designed to grace.
In any decent movie, the voice would have belonged to a handsome tennis pro with a tan and bulging biceps. This was her life, though, so while her admirer did sport a tan, his body bulged in all the wrong places—like over the waistband of his Speedo. Ally bit her lip as her eyes moved upward, past the gold chain tangling in his furry chest hair to the three-day salt-and-pepper stubble, the ridiculous iridescent blue wraparound sunglasses and wide-brimmed Panama hat.
She was being hit on by a bad cliché. This horrible vacation experience was now complete. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You look like you could use some company. How about we have a drink and get to know each other?” Without waiting for her response, the man lowered himself into the adjacent lounge chair, took off his sunglasses and stuck out his hand. “Fred Alexander.”
With no excuse to deny the tenets of her proper Southern upbringing, she shook the proffered hand. The palm was damp. He held her hand a bit too long, and she fought the urge to wipe it on her towel once released. “I’m Ally. It’s nice to meet you, but—”
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting out here alone. No telling who might come along to bother you.” He winked at her.
Yeah, no telling. There were plenty of people on the beach. Why had Fred picked her to hit on? Because you are a loser magnet. First Gerry and now this guy. At least Gerry had been good-looking, a fact he’d never let her forget.
She had to escape. She should have just stayed in Savannah. Oh, but no, she’d been steamed over the loss of so many other down payments that she wasn’t going to let a vacation go to waste, too. It had sounded so practical at the time. She knew better now.
“I was just about to go in, actually. I think I’m getting too much sun.” She reached for her bag and slid to the edge of her seat, ready to beat a hasty retreat. Fred placed his hand on her wrist and stroked his thumb over the skin. Ally gently moved away from his hand and out of arm’s reach as she stood.
“I’d be happy to rub some lotion on you.” Fred’s eyes roamed slowly down her body and back up to her cleavage, making her skin crawl. With a slow shake of his head, he said, “That’s a crime, Ally. A girl with a body like yours should be showing it off in a bikini.” She’d never been so glad to be wearing a one-piece in her entire life, and as he licked his lips in appreciation, Ally felt as if she needed a hot shower.
“Thanks, but no. I’m—”
“Dinner, then. I saw you checking in alone yesterday and figured you’d be looking for some company.”
Ugh. She took another step back. “Um, well, I…”
“I’m staying here, too. Suite sixteen. It must be fate that we’re both here on our own…”
It was in her nature to make people happy, but this crossed the line. There was “nice” and then there was “stupid.” She’d made enough stupid decisions—no more.
“Enjoy the beach.” She could hear Fred muttering something about her attitude as she left. Whatever. What little enjoyment she’d had just relaxing to the sounds of the surf evaporated in the wake of being hit on by some creepy guy old enough to be her father.
Maybe the TV in her room had a movie channel. She could take that shower, order room service for dinner—if they even did room service in this hotel; she hadn’t seen a menu when she’d checked in last night—and plan to do some sightseeing on the island tomorrow.
This was the most pathetic vacation ever. Or was she the pathetic one?
The lobby was mostly empty as she waited behind a couple checking in. More honeymooners. The young woman carried a bouquet, and the red-haired man at her side was having a hard time checking in since he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off his new bride. They seemed happy, and Ally silently wished them well as they headed for their room.
“I’d like to see about ordering room service to suite twenty-six.”
The hotel clerk shook his head. “Sorry. No room service. Just the restaurant.”
Lovely. She thought she’d hit her low spot on this vacation with the arrival of Fred, but obviously there was much more awaiting her over the next few days. Like eating every meal alone.
“But I do have a message for you, Mrs. Hogsten.”
“Miss Smith,” she corrected automatically. Another good reason not to marry Gerry. She’d never liked the sound of his last name.
The clerk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he rechecked his computer screen.
Ally sighed. “I know. It says Hogsten, party of two, but it’s just me. Miss Smith.”
She saw the flash of pity in the man’s eyes as the implications of staying alone in a honeymoon suite registered.
No sense trying to explain she wasn’t the least bit sorry to still be single. “The message?”
He handed her a folded piece of paper. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thanks.” She flipped it open for a quick peek as she walked back to her room. Her mother’s number.
Good Lord, what now? She’d hadn’t been gone that long, and she’d made sure all of them were squared away before she left.
Kicking the door closed with her foot, she dug in her bag for her cell phone, only to flip it open and remember she didn’t have service here.
The minifridge in her room was well stocked after her trip to the local liquor store last night, and the bottle of Chardonnay called her name. She poured a glass and took a drink before dialing the long string of numbers to call home.
“Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear from you!”
Her mom sounded as though the phone call was a nice surprise, which meant nothing was seriously wrong on the home front. That didn’t mean she was off the hook, though. Ally drained her glass before she spoke. Instead of refilling it, she took the bottle with her over to the bed and sat down. She might need the whole thing. “You asked me to call. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, we’re fine. I guess.”
Ally waited.
“Well, other than the fact your sister is going to put me in an early grave with her dramatics…”
Oh, goody. Ring the bell for Mom versus Erin, round 427. Did she really need to be discussing this long-distance?
Breathe in. Breathe out. How typical. Could her family not function for at least a few days without her there? She’d like to think that if she’d really been on her honeymoon, no one would expect her to deal with this. Who was she kidding? If her family tree were any nuttier, squirrels would start showing up at Thanksgiving dinner. She loved them, but not a one had an ounce of sense.
Maybe she’d been adopted. Switched at birth. Or had she been intentionally placed in this family simply to keep them all from spiraling out of control with their dramatics? It sucked to be the grown-up all the time.
When her mom finally paused for a breath, Ally started her peacekeeping duties. “Mom, it is her wedding—”
“Maybe so, but you’d think she’d understand how important this is.”
It was a wedding, not the trials of Hercules, for goodness’ sake. But it took another half hour for Ally to convince her mom of that, albeit temporarily. She banged her head against the headboard gently in frustration.
“And, Ally, honey, the state sent a notice about the property taxes.”
“I took care of that before I left.”
“So what do I do with the notice?”
“Just set it aside, and I’ll get it when I come home. I’ll double-check with the state to be sure, but I wrote the check along with your other first-of-the-month bills.”
“Oh, then that’s good.”
The small headache her mother always caused after more than twenty minutes throbbed behind her eyes. “Mom, I’m going to go find some dinner now. I’ll see you when I get home, and we’ll sort everything out then.”
“Of course, honey. Have a wonderful time. We’ll talk soon.”
With the phone safely back in its cradle, Ally leaned back against the headboard of the king-size bed and hugged the bottle of wine to her chest. I’m so glad I don’t have cell service here.
Out her bedroom window, she could see the sun setting over the water. Dammit, she was on vacation. Granted, it was the strangest vacation ever, but it was her vacation nonetheless. She was alone in a honeymoon suite, in a place she hadn’t wanted to come to, and staying at a low-end hotel because her travel agent was both spiteful and incompetent. And she’d paid top dollar for this disaster. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but there were worse places to be. She should make the most of it.
She’d earned a vacation, by God. She’d put up with Gerry for three years longer than she should have in the hopes he’d shape up and be worth the investment of her time and energy. Instead she’d carried him—financially and emotionally—for all that time. Planning and then canceling the wedding had been stressful, and when she added in her family’s constant stream of crises, it was no wonder she’d had a headache for as long as she could remember.
She needed a vacation. She deserved it. She would take advantage of it.
After one last long drink straight from the bottle, Ally reached for the phone again. By the time the desk clerk answered, she had a whole new perspective.
“This is Ally Smith in suite twenty-six. No, not Mrs. Hogsten. Miss Smith. I’d like your help in finding a restaurant that delivers and a masseuse who can come to my room tonight for an hour-long massage. And I need to know where the closest spa is. I’d like to get a facial and a manicure tomorrow. Oh, and I’d really love some fresh flowers in here.”
“She’s a real beauty.”
Chris Wells nodded, even if he didn’t fully agree. She needed quite a bit of work, but she still held great promise. He’d wanted to have a closer look before he’d know if the problems were just cosmetic or if they ran deeper.
“She’s fast, too,” the man continued, pride evident in his voice, “but responsive and easy to handle.”
“Her reputation certainly precedes her.” Chris stepped onto the weathered wooden deck. At just over forty feet, the yacht was compact, yet elegant in design. Sadly, though, she had suffered from too many years of poor mainte-nance—the cleats were spotted with rust, the leather cover of the tiller was cracked and peeling. Twenty-five years ago, he’d watched his father skipper the Circe to her first win, and he’d known then that he’d race one day, too. In a way, he owed much of his career to the boat rocking gently under his feet.
The Circe was long retired, her heavy wooden hull no match for the newer, lighter racing yachts made of aluminum or fiberglass. But he wasn’t here to buy a new racer—he was here to buy a piece of history and make her into a queen.
His crew had called him crazy when he’d told them he was taking time off to go to Tortola to see Circe, but Jack and Derrick would come around eventually. And he wouldn’t trust anyone but them to refit her properly.
“Is she seaworthy? Any reason why she wouldn’t make it home?”
Ricardo, the boat’s current owner, smiled, obviously pleased with Chris’s interest. “A few minor things you might want to look at…”
Chris listened to Ricardo’s list with half an ear as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called home. “Jack. Send Victor and Mickey down here on the next flight. She needs a little work, but I should be ready to start for home by the end of the week.”
“So you’re going through with it?”
“Definitely.” He was handing the check to a bug-eyed Ricardo even as he spoke.
“Why don’t you come on home and let the guys bring her back instead?”
Chris took a deep breath as a feeling of rightness filled him. He was meant to own the Circe. “Because she’s mine now.”
“But we need you here. Paperwork is already piling up on your desk. And, if you’re really going to break a record in October, we don’t have time for you to putter around the Caribbean.”
“I have an assistant to handle the paperwork. Grace can call if she needs anything. October is still a long ways off, and the Dagny is ahead of schedule. There’s nothing for me to do but admire your handiwork.”
Jack sighed and muttered something, but Chris didn’t need to hear it. He’d heard it all already. Jack was the world’s most compulsive planner—which was great when it came to planning around-the-world trips and designing new boats, but a bit of a pain any other time.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks. Have Dagny’s sails ready for me when I get home.”
“No dawdling in the Bahamas this time, okay?”
Flipping the phone closed, Chris turned back to Ricardo. “I assume you can get me access to the maintenance shed here.” He was already making a mental list of what he’d need for the long trip back to Charleston; now he just hoped he could find a good outfitter on the island.
Feeling better than he had in weeks—months, probably—Chris grabbed his duffel bag off the dock and tossed it below. Ricardo was already halfway back to the marina office, presumably to cash the fat check in his hand before Chris changed his mind.
But Chris was already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed below to change. He was looking forward to getting to know his new addition.
Whistling, he got to work.
A massage, a mud bath and a mani-pedi had worked wonders on Ally’s outlook. Tortola was definitely growing on her.
After a fabulous morning of being pampered and polished, she returned to her room feeling so relaxed she wasn’t sure how much longer her legs would hold her upright. A short nap and a shower later, her attitude adjustment was almost complete. She just needed to find somewhere to eat—napping through lunch was great for the psyche but left her stomach growling.
The nail tech at the spa had recommended she try the little café next to the marina in order to get a true taste of the local cuisine. It was a short walk, and it gave her the opportunity to appreciate the amazing scenery she’d ignored in her foul mood. Until now.
A smiling teenager led her to a small table overlooking the marina. The same breeze that teased her hair out of its braid also gave her background music as it moved though the rigging of the boats. Sunshine warmed her shoulders, and the fish chowder soothed the grumble in her stomach. By the time she’d finished her second mango daiquiri, she knew she was in paradise.
The bustle of the marina fascinated her. Even though Savannah was close to the coast, she herself wasn’t all that familiar with boats. Here, though, sailing was obviously a serious pastime, and the marina buzzed with activity. Curious, and with nothing else on her afternoon agenda, she went to explore.
There were no gates blocking access to the docks like the few she’d seen at home, so she wandered aimlessly. Boats of every shape and size and type bobbed gently in the water, and everyone greeted her with a wave as she passed.
Tranquility. Miss Lizzie. Lagniappe. The fanciful names painted on the backs of the boats made her smile. Tailwinds. Skylark. The Nauti-Girl made her laugh out loud. Spirit of the Sea. The Lorelei. The Circe.
The Circe was smaller than the boats around it, and while the others were tidy and gleaming, the Circe looked as though she’d seen better days. Planks from her deck were missing and long scrapings marred her paint. A second look, though, showed the scrapes had uniformity to them and a pile of fresh planks was stacked neatly on the dock.
The Circe was getting a face-lift.
“I assure you, it’s for her own good.”
Ally jumped at the voice and the thump of something landing on the dock behind her. She turned and realized Tortola had spectacular scenery indeed.
Holy moly. He couldn’t be real. No mortal man had a chest like that. She blinked, but the image didn’t change. Muscles rippled under bronze skin as he off-loaded the supplies in his arms. His pecs bunched, then flexed as he moved, and Ally felt a bit dizzy. Struggling to regain her equilibrium, she forced her eyes upward to the man’s face.
But it didn’t help to steady her. Sunglasses hid his eyes but not the adorable crinkles that formed as he smiled at her. He wiped his hands over the battered khaki cutoffs hanging low on his hips, then slid the sunglasses up and off his face. Eyes the color of the water surrounding them grabbed her, and she found it hard to breathe.
Real or not, she knew he’d be starring in her late-night X-rated fantasies for years to come.
“Her previous owners neglected her a bit, but she’s going to be beautiful once I’m done with her.”
The slight drawl made her think of home, and something about the pride and determination in his tone tugged at her. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“I certainly hope so.” He reached to her right to grab the faded T-shirt hanging on the piling, bringing that bronze skin so close she could smell the sunshine and the musk of clean, male sweat. As he pulled it over his head, she stamped down her disappointment at the loss of the lovely view of his pecs. “I’m Chris Wells.”
“Ally.” She shook the hand he offered. It was warm and strong and slightly calloused, indicating he worked with his hands. The thought of those hands on her…She snapped back to the conversation. “I’m sure she’s enchanting.”
Chris cocked his head, sending a lock of blond-streaked hair over his forehead before he pushed it back. Those highlights were real—he obviously spent a lot of time in the sun.
Ally cleared her throat. “Circe. The enchantress queen from the Odyssey.”
“Yes, I know. I’m just surprised you do. Not too many people know who she is.” He crossed his arms across that unbelievable chest and leaned against the piling.
“I guess I’m a bit of a mythology geek.”
Chris’s eyes traveled appreciatively down her body, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. “I definitely wouldn’t consider you a geek.”
The heat of a blush replaced the tingles, and her brain turned mushy. “She so rarely gets the credit she deserves.”
“She turned Odysseus’s crew into pigs.”
Was that a challenge? “Some might say it wasn’t exactly a stretch.”
“Ouch,” Chris said.
“But she also gave Odysseus the information he needed to find his way home and avoid the Sirens. Odysseus owes Circe one.” Why am I babbling on about this? She needed to quit while she was ahead. Find another topic of conversation before he decides you really are a geek.
But Chris egged her on with another of those smiles. “But they were lovers. That’s what Circe wanted from him.”
Ally laughed and took the opening. Maybe he didn’t think she was babbling. “True, but I think that worked out better for Odysseus than for Circe.”
“Excuse me?”
She looked at him levelly. “Odysseus and Circe have a fling. After which, Circe gives him much-needed information, and he’s gone without a backward glance, leaving her pregnant with triplets. Not so great an ending for Circe.” She shook her head sadly.
“What, no romantic sympathies for his desire to get home to Penelope?” Chris teased.
This was fun. She leaned against the opposite piling and mirrored his crossed arms. “Oh, now Penelope has my sympathy. Odysseus, the original golden boy of ‘all style, no substance,’ goes out adventuring, leaving her at home to weave and take care of the kid. She remains faithful while he starts the tradition of a girl in every port. Odysseus was a player.”
Chris laughed out loud. “You don’t sound like you like Odysseus much.”
“I won’t deny there’s something attractive about him, but smart women don’t fall for that—at least not more than once.”
A blond eyebrow arched upward. “You sound bitter.”
She shrugged. “Let’s just say I know better. If you ask me, Odysseus got much better than he deserved.”
“That’s a different take on a classic.”
In her primmest voice, she said, “Homer was a man. I don’t think he sees it quite the same way a woman would.”
“You have a point, Ally.”
“Maybe.” When he didn’t respond, she was disappointed. Were they done now? Should she move on? She didn’t want to, but Chris did have a major project underway. He hadn’t moved from his lazy pose against the piling, but maybe he was just too polite. She’d wrap it up and let him get back to work. “But you’re doing a good thing, bringing Circe back to her former glory. I’m sure she’ll be lovely.”
“She will be. Right now she’s just a money pit. I can see now why Odysseus left her. Too needy.” He punctuated the statement with a wink.
Feeling better than she had in months, Ally let a giggle escape. “You’re terrible.”
Chris shrugged. “You started it.”
“Well, I stand by my earlier statement, regardless. Your Circe deserves the face-lift. I’m sure she’ll be a beautiful, enchanting ship when you’re done.”
“Yacht.”
“Pardon me?”
“She’s a yacht. Not a ship.”
“Really? There’s a difference?”
“Definitely.” Chris levered himself back to his feet. “Ships are those big ones that move cargo and such. These,” he indicated the boats around them, “are yachts.”
Maybe they weren’t done just yet. He didn’t seem in a hurry to run her off and get back to work. A little spurt of excitement warmed her blood. This trip was getting better by the second…
“Ally! Ally-girl, I thought that was you.”
The voice hit her between the shoulder blades and crawled down her back. I spoke too soon. She knew that creepy, gravelly voice. She turned, and, sure enough, Fred was lumbering down the dock toward her like a duck to a June bug. Why me? Why? I find a hunky guy to talk to and the slimy one has to come and ruin it. It wasn’t fair.
She saw Chris’s eyebrows go up in question as Fred lumbered to a stop beside her. “Ally,” he puffed, “I saw you headed this way. If you’re interested in boats, darlin’, I’d be happy to oblige.”
At least he’s wearing more than he was yesterday. The polo shirt and shorts were an improvement, but that didn’t mitigate the fact he was here ruining her day again.
Fred looked Chris up and down, then glanced dismissively at the Circe. “How about that dinner now? We can let this swabbie get back to work.”
Chris stiffened a bit at the insult, but he didn’t take the bait. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Swabbie? How arrogant could one guy be? And how was she going to gracefully extricate herself this time? Short of jumping off the dock and swimming to shore, she was trapped.
She felt, more than saw, Fred reach for her elbow to lead her away. Desperate, she turned to Chris and mouthed, Help.
The corner of Chris’s mouth twitched. Dammit, this wasn’t funny. She didn’t want to be outright rude to Fred, but this needed to be nipped in the bud.
Fine. Rudeness begat rudeness, and this jerk started it. Her conscience could be salved by that, at least, as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to be intentionally rude for the first time in her life. “Look—”
“Ally,” Chris interrupted smoothly, “I know you’re upset I’ve been spending so much time on the boat, but you don’t need to get even by flirting with another man.”
She let out her breath in a rush at the save, but then gasped as Chris looked at Fred and shrugged. “You know how women are about these things. They get so jealous over the ‘other woman.’”
Her mouth was open to argue with such a sexist statement when she realized Fred was nodding in agreement. She closed it with a snap and accepted the hand Chris held out to her. One quick tug, and she was against his chest with his arms wrapped around her.
And everything else ceased to exist.
The men were talking, but Ally couldn’t hear the exchange. The heat from Chris’s body and the solid wall of muscle surrounding her had her blood pounding in her ears. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, and the summertime smell of him filled her senses. Every nerve ending sprang to life, and she fought against the urge to rub sensually against him but lost. Her breathing turned shallow and her inner thighs clenched. But when Chris dropped a warm kiss on her bare shoulder, lightning raced through her, causing her to arch into him in response.
His arms tightened around her, and she melted into the pressure…
“Ally?”
The whispered question sent chills over her skin as his breath caressed her ear. Her eyelids felt heavy as she attempted to open them.
“He’s gone. You’re safe now.”
The words hit her like cold water. Reality snapped back into focus, and…Oh, no. She felt the hot flush of embarrassment sweep up her chest and neck.
She’d been writhing against him like a stripper against a pole, and her humiliation was now absolute.
This vacation sucked.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_34782056-bba0-5411-8f97-ba76ce6b18d5)
ALLY WAS A WONDERFUL ARMFUL, but the situation was about to become embarrassing for them both if he didn’t release her. The colorful sundress she wore had concealed the lush curves he could now feel as she fitted perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. Curly dark tendrils of hair that smelled like sunshine and citrus caught the breeze and tickled over his skin. When she’d sighed and moved against him, he’d been unable to resist tasting her.
Her plea for help might have spurred him to reach for her, but in reality it had only provided an excuse to act on the need to touch her that he’d felt the moment she’d lifted her chin and started her defense of Circe. A need that had intensified when that Euro-trash wannabe had tried to stake a claim on her.
But now that he was gone, Chris no longer had a reasonable excuse to continue holding her—beyond his own enjoyment, of course. But that enjoyment was beginning to press insistently against her, and in another moment he was going to take advantage of the situation.
As he gave the all clear, Chris felt her stiffen. Ally extricated herself awkwardly, clearing her throat as a red flush colored her chest and neck.
Maybe I’m not the only one who got a thrill from the contact, he thought.
“I, um, ahem, uh—” Ally paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you for the save. Fred must not have gotten the hint yesterday that I wasn’t interested. Maybe now he’ll find someone else to stalk.”
“My pleasure.” Definitely. He’d never been one for saving the damsel in distress before, but if this was what it was like, he’d reconsider playing Lancelot.
Ally attempted to smooth the loose hair back from her face, then smiled uncomfortably. But she wasn’t beating a fast path off the dock, which was good since he was already hoping he’d have an excuse to touch her again soon.
“Would you like to come aboard? See the Circe up close?”
He was treated to a brilliant smile that lit up her deep brown eyes. “I’d like that a lot. I’ve never been on a boat before. A yacht, I mean.”
“You can call her a boat, just not a ship.”
“Good, because yacht sounds a bit pretentious.” Her cheeky smile was contagious, and he knew he was grinning like an idiot as he stepped onto the deck and held out a hand to help her board.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been on a boat before.”
“Never. Well, unless you want to count a canoe at camp one summer.”
He’d spent his entire life on, in or around boats. Sailboats, speedboats, rowboats, tugboats—if it went on the water, he’d built it, raced it or at least crewed it. He’d never met anyone who hadn’t even seen one up close before.
Ally seemed to be taking the inspection seriously, as she asked questions about the sails and the cleats and how it all worked. As she trailed a hand along the tiller, his blood stirred, wanting that hand to caress him instead.
He cleared his throat. “She was designed to race, so she’s lean. No frills to weigh her down.”
“Is that what you’re going to do? Fix her up and race her?”
“No, I can’t race her. Her hull is too heavy to compete with what’s out there now.”
Ally looked at him. “But you do race, right? Or you’re wanting to?”
Was she serious? A look at Ally’s heart-shaped face told him she was. She honestly had no idea. How long had it been since he’d had a conversation with someone who didn’t know who he was? Wells Racing and the OWD Shipyard really had consumed his life—to the extent that it had probably been at least five years since he’d met anyone who wasn’t as obsessed as he was. Maybe more like ten. And while part of him wanted to impress Ally with his list of credentials, he held it at bay. It was nice to be incognito for once.
“I race…among other things.” It wasn’t a lie. Pops still kept his command in the offices of the OWD Shipyard—in name at least—but Chris found more and more of the day-to-day business crossing his desk these days. He juggled a lot, but Wells Racing was still his main focus.
Ally grinned at him. “But do you ever win?”
He laughed before he caught himself. “Occasionally.”
“Is it dangerous?” She didn’t meet his eyes as she asked that, but the too-casual way she poked at the deck line belied her interest.
“Not really. You can get hurt, don’t underestimate that, but it’s pretty hard to kill yourself.”
Her shoulders dropped in relief. “That’s good. My brother races dirt bikes for fun. It’s pretty easy to kill yourself doing that.” Ally poked her head into the hatch. “Not a lot down there.”
“Like I said, she’s built for racing. Bare necessities only.” He liked watching her explore the Circe. As the breeze molded her dress to her curves, he realized he liked watching her, period. The erection he’d only recently got back under control stirred to life again.
Ally sat on the edge of the cockpit and ran her hands over the smooth planks of the deck. “This is neat. Thank you for showing me.”
Unable to resist, he sat next to her. Possibly a little closer than was called for, but Ally didn’t move away. “Neat?”
“Yes, neat. I like to learn new things.” She looked sideways at him and shrugged. “In fact, I’ve decided that this vacation is going to be all about new things. I came by myself, which was definitely a first. I’ve—”
“You came on a Caribbean vacation by yourself?” Even though she’d been wandering the dock alone, he assumed she had friends or family somewhere on the island.
“It’s a long story, but, yes.”
He started to ask another question but she cut him off.
“Seriously, it’s a long, boring story. But I’m here now, and I’m making the most of it. I’ve tried new foods, let the spa spread mud all over me, and now I’ve been on a boat for the first time. I’d say I’m off to a good start.”
He was still reeling at the mental image of Ally nude while mud was painted sensuously across her breasts. He cleared his throat. “You’re quite the adventurer.”
She beamed, her brown eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I am taking baby steps.” Ally closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the sun. It was an artlessly erotic pose—back arched, breasts thrust temptingly toward him, the gentle curve of her neck exposed. “This is wonderful. The wind and the water are very relaxing.”
He was anything but relaxed. “Would you like to go out?” he blurted.
Ally sat up and opened her eyes, the shock readily apparent. “I’m sorry, what?”
Well, that hadn’t been his smoothest move. He cleared his throat. “Sailing. Would you like to go out sailing tomorrow?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ve never—”
“I thought you were being adventurous on your vacation.”
Ally shifted uncomfortably. “There’s adventurous and then there’s the fact that I’m not a very good swimmer.”
“The chances of you going overboard are pretty slim unless you jump.”
Ally looked over the mess he’d made of the Circe, a wary look in her eye. “But—”
He followed her gaze and laughed. “Not on the Circe. She’s not up for company yet. I’ll borrow a little cat or something. Start slow.”
Confusion furrowed Ally’s forehead. “A cat?”
“Catamaran. Like the ones you see on the beach down there.”
She looked to where he was pointing and nodded. “It’s kinda big, don’t you think, for my first time? Maybe something smaller, like those over there?” She pointed to some dinghies tied up at the dock.
“Ah, Ally, you don’t want to start too small. You want to get the full experience.” He dropped his voice and teased, “Bigger really is better, you know. It’s not the same sensation at all.”
She caught her lip in her teeth, the picture of indecision. “Um…”
“We’ll take it really slow and give you some time to get comfortable. We won’t go very far until you’re sure you’re ready. Just nice and easy.” He stroked her arm and gooseflesh rose under his fingers. “We won’t go too fast, I promise—unless you decide you want to, of course. And I think you will once you get into it. Otherwise, you can relax and let me do all the work while you just enjoy yourself.”
Ally’s eyes were wide and dark as she exhaled gently. “Are we still talking about sailing?”
Who cares about sailing? He stopped and gave himself a strong mental shake. “Of course. Well? Are you game?” He could see the indecision in her eyes. She wanted to go, but something was holding her back. “Are you afraid? Of the water?”
She hesitated as she looked away. “No. Not afraid, just not any good—I mean, I’m not a good swimmer.”
“Do you trust me?”
One eyebrow went up. “I’ve known you for less than an hour. No, I don’t trust you.”
Ally was a breath of fresh air—and honest to a fault. “I’m hurt,” he teased.
Looking sideways at him, she amended her statement. “But I don’t distrust you, either.”
That easy smile was really starting to work on him. “It’s a start.”
“And you did save me from Fred.”
“Very true. Surely that merits something.”
“If you were a Boy Scout, maybe a badge of some sort.” She bit her lip again, sending a jolt through him. “But I don’t think you’re a Boy Scout.”
“You do know how to wound a man. I may not be a Boy Scout, but I am a good sailor. You needn’t have any worries about surviving the experience. I’ll bet you’ll even enjoy it, despite your reservations.”
She didn’t pick up the gauntlet, but she was coming around. “How about the medium-size one? I can work my way up from there.”
“How about dinner instead? If you still want to start small after that, then I’ll get the dinghy. But I think you’ll come to see the benefits of not setting your sights too low.”
Confusion crinkled her forehead, and it took all he had not to reach for her and drag her below, but there was nothing below but a couple of narrow bunks, completely useless for what he had in mind. “Dinner?” she asked.
He feigned shock. “Of course. You don’t expect me to go sailing with a woman I barely know, do you?”
Ally laughed and nudged him with an elbow. “I don’t know what to expect from you.”
“Just a good time, that much I can assure you.” For us both.
“Then it’s a deal.” Ally stuck out her hand, but instead of shaking it, he squeezed it gently.
Slightly flustered, she stood and brushed at her dress with her free hand. “Should I, um, go change?”
“You look amazing.” She blushed at the simple compliment, and something primal and protective stirred in his stomach. It was an odd feeling. “I, on the other hand, need to shower. You can’t be seen in public with an unwashed swabbie.”
Ally squeezed his hand back as she apologized. “Fred’s a jerk. That comment was uncalled for.”
“I’ve been called worse by better.”
“But still…”
She seemed so earnest in her apology and need to console. “Forget it, Ally.You’re not responsible for the actions of others.”
A shrug was her only response.
“Where are you staying? I’ll come get you around seven.”
“The Cordova Inn. How about I meet you in the lobby?”
He nodded, and steadied her as she stepped onto the dock. The Circe bobbed as she did, and the boat felt a bit empty once she’d left. He was admiring the gentle sway of her hips when she turned and gave a small wave. Another moment and she was around the building and out of sight.
Well, this was an expected turn of events. He’d come to Tortola to get the Circe and found the delicious Ally, as well. His father had called the Circe a lucky boat, and now he had proof. Not that he was ever one to question his luck—he’d learned early on to take advantage of whatever winds came his way.
He went below to get his shaving kit and wished the repairs were further along. Or that he’d at least gotten a proper bed installed. He didn’t mind crashing on the narrow bunks, but the Circe’s cabin was low on creature comforts and not exactly conducive to pastimes other than racing.
That would change, just not soon enough.
Of course, the arrival of Mickey and Victor tomorrow would also put a damper on any on-board activities with Ally. Which reminded him—he still had supplies to stow and he needed to call home.
He’d call and check in with Grace, just to be sure there wasn’t anything too pressing, then he’d call Pops and mollify him over the extended absence.
Thanks to the Circe, the company, the Dagny, and his grandfather were all far away and would remain so for the next few weeks. He stretched, and his fingertips grazed the Circe’s bulkheads. He was a free man. Somewhat free, he amended as his phone alerted him to an incoming text message.
It could wait a while though. Ally was far more interesting than another discussion of the Dagny’s sails or OWD business.
He grabbed his shaving kit and a clean shirt and headed to the marina to shower.
Ally held her composure until she was sure Chris was no longer in sight, then she sagged against the wall of one of the marina buildings. Her legs felt shaky as she let out her breath in a long, unbelieving sigh.
Had that really happened? Had she really just met a real-life Adonis and agreed to…to…She shook herself. Technically, she had only agreed to dinner and a sail, but deep down she was pretty sure she’d agreed to something far more. Chris’s interest went beyond taking her sailing. She wasn’t that naive.
She was, however, completely out of her league. Men like Chris just didn’t appear in her world every day. Men like Chris were the stuff of fantasies. Or movies. They certainly didn’t appear out of nowhere like a dream come true and take an interest in mousy little accountants.
“God, I love this island.”
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and enjoyed the thrill. She had an urge to find that fiancé-banging stupid travel agent and give her a big kiss. Checking her watch, she was amazed to realize dinner wasn’t that far off. She only had a little over an hour to wait, but at the same time, that hour seemed like an eternity. Not that she was interested in food. That feeling in her stomach definitely wasn’t hunger pangs.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and found that her legs still weren’t completely stable. Which was appropriate, since she wasn’t sure she was mentally stable at the moment, either. These things just didn’t happen to her. But it had, and she was willing—make that more than willing—to grab this moment and run with it.
She covered the short distance between the marina and the inn in record time and hurried to her room. The light on her phone blinked, indicating she had a message waiting at the front desk, but she ignored it. She wasn’t the least bit interested in her fruity family or whatever crisis they’d concocted for themselves today.
Her wardrobe was limited, as she’d never considered this possibility while packing, and she grimaced at the selection. All of it plain, boring, unexciting—rather like her at times. She wished she had time to go shopping, to find something better, but the clock was ticking. When she got home, she’d do some serious shopping to remedy the sad state of her wardrobe. She did find another sundress that was dressier than the one she had on and wasn’t shaped like a potato sack. It would have to do.
She showered again and took extra time getting ready, wanting to look as good as possible, but her hair wasn’t cooperating. Sighing, she settled for another braid, tucking in the frizzing strands as best she could. At one minute after seven, she took a deep breath and headed for the lobby, half expecting Chris not to show up.
But he did, looking like something out of a magazine in loose linen slacks and button-down shirt with his blond-streaked hair brushed back from his face. That fluttery feeling in her stomach bloomed back to life, followed rapidly by the urge to suggest a quiet dinner in her room.
Chris leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek, an innocent enough greeting under any other circumstances, but in this case, one that melted her insides and made her knees wobble.
“You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. So do you.” Those blue eyes were going to be the end of her. Seriously. She could stare into them for hours, but when he smiled and they lit…
“Mrs. Hogsten!” The desk clerk approaching her was a wet blanket on her rapidly heating thoughts. She sighed in disgust. Whatever happened to impersonal hotels where none of the employees knew or even cared who you were? She’d love that about now.
“Not Hogsten. Smith. Or even Ally is fine.”
“Of course, my apologies.” At least the pitying look was gone. Instead the desk clerk looked amused as he saw Chris standing so closely beside her. “We have a message for you.”
“Thanks.” She took the piece of paper and glanced at it quickly as the clerk left. “Call home.” Not tonight, she thought, as she stuffed it into her purse. Turning to the far more interesting Chris, she smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Is everything okay?” The concern she saw in his eyes was kind, but she wanted that other light back. The light that said he was interested in her, not what was on a piece of paper in her purse. The one that made her insides turn over and her skin tingle.
“Just my family checking in.”
That other look came back into his eyes, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life. “Good.” Chris took her hand and led her toward the door. “It’s a beautiful evening and the restaurant’s not far. Mind if we walk?”
At the moment she’d gladly walk to hell and back if he’d keep looking at her like she was dessert. Pull yourself together before you jump on him. At least try to act casual about this.
The evening was beautiful and warm, and Ally inhaled the hibiscus-scented air deeply as they walked. This was the stuff books were written about, walking at night on a tropical island hand in hand with a gorgeous man who—
“There seems to be some confusion about your name at the hotel.”
I will not let reality spoil this moment. “Yeah. Well, it’s kind of a—”
“Long story?” Chris finished for her, flashing a smile that made her gooey inside.
“Exactly. And boring to boot. How about you tell me where we’re headed instead?”
“Have you ever had pepper-pot soup?”
She stomped down the urge to skip. “Nope, but it sounds great. Remember, I’m all about new experiences this week. I’m game for pretty much anything.”
Chris stopped walking and pulled her into the shadow of a huge mango tree. Warm hands settled on her shoulders, and Ally forgot to breathe. “Glad to hear it. In fact…”
It was all the warning she got before his mouth touched hers.
His lips were warm and soft and gentle, but she could feel the restraint, the tension in his hands as they moved up to cup her face and his thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. Rising up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around him as his tongue touched hers.
And everything changed.
This. This was the kind of kiss myths were built around. Heat and hunger radiated from Chris’s body, warming her blood and making it sing through her veins in answer to the need he stirred in her.
She’d never been kissed like this before, and her world shrank until all that existed was Chris and the feel of him against her and the taste of him on her lips.
A brief jolt of anger moved through her at the thought of all the kisses she’d wasted on Gerry. His lazy, perfunctory, be-happy-you’re-getting-anything kisses had never moved her like this.
Like this, she thought, and banished Gerry from her mind as Chris’s fingers massaged her scalp, and her knees turned to water. Chris caught her weight as she wobbled, fitting her tightly against him, and what little sanity she had left fled at the sensation: scorching kisses along the tender skin of her neck; the play of muscles under her fingers and the thump of his heart against the chest pressed tightly to hers. The bark of the mango tree bit into her back, but she didn’t care.
“Ally,” Chris whispered, the sound slowly filtering through the erotic haze around her, and she shivered at hearing her name on his lips.
She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her, his fingers still tangled in her hair and his thumbs gently stroking her temples. But there was nothing gentle in the way he looked at her, and the fire burning in those blue eyes sent a shiver deep into her stomach.
Chris shuddered, his breath coming in quick pants like her own. She was glad to see she hadn’t been the only one to be shaken by the power of that kiss. She didn’t have much experience to draw on, but she knew the feeling was mutual. Tightening her fingers on the fabric of his shirt, she pulled him closer, wanting more.
“This isn’t exactly the right place.”
Belatedly, she realized he was right. While not crowded by any stretch of the imagination, there were other people on the street, and several of them were watching the display with interest. She should be mortified, slinking away in embarrassment, but surprisingly she didn’t care in the least.
“And, if you plan on actually having dinner tonight, we should probably stop.” His fingers slid out of her hair, and she could feel the braid hanging drunkenly to one side as he toyed with the loose strands. A rueful smile played on his lips.
Dinner? She didn’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner. The only thing she was hungry for was the man plastered against her like some kind of fantasy in the flesh.
Chris sighed and shifted his weight and Ally tightened her grip to keep him from moving away. For a brief moment indecision nibbled at her. She should let him go. She should go on to dinner. She should act nonchalantly about what just happened. A lifetime’s experience of responsibility and rationality told her to backtrack to the getting-to-know-you steps they’d leapfrogged over with that kiss.
I don’t want to.
The realization shook her to the soles of her plain brown sandals. The sandals were the tipping point. They were practical, boring and suddenly symbolic of her entire existence. She didn’t even have sexy, pretty shoes in her life, much less men like Chris.
Chris.
He hadn’t moved since she’d tightened her hold on him, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there dithering with herself. When she looked up to meet his eyes, she saw the heat and the question there, and her decision became crystal clear.
“I’m not in the least bit hungry, but if you are, I do know a place that delivers to my hotel.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d0c2fda5-d0c7-5614-947c-62a48e48e277)
ALLY SHOULD COME with a warning label attached. Her words came out of nowhere—okay, not exactly nowhere but close enough—to slam into him with a desire that was almost painful. Underneath that artless, wholesome sensuality and cheeky grin was a woman very dangerous to his sanity.
He hadn’t meant for the kiss to get out of hand. He just hadn’t been able to go another moment without tasting her. The sweetness had been expected, but it was the fire that had caused him to lose control of the situation.
Hell, he’d lost what was left of his mind. Ally deserved better than a mauling against a mango tree in full view of a dozen witnesses. She tensed and he dragged his attention back to her face, only to immediately wish he hadn’t. Her eyes were dark and hungry, her lips swollen and moist from his kiss. Public or not, up against a mango tree or not, he didn’t care.
He just needed her hands on him again.
“Food can wait.”
Her breath caught and she reached for his hand as she turned.
Thank God they hadn’t made it very far. Retracing their steps took only a minute, but it seemed like an eternity. Ally’s hands shook as she tried to unlock the door, fumbling the keys.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and took over the task, silently agreeing with Ally’s muttered “Thank goodness” as they were able to close the door behind them.
One lamp glowed beside the very inviting bed, its sheets already turned down by the hotel staff. The window stood open, allowing the quiet evening sounds of the island to drift in.
Ally seemed slightly uncomfortable once they were alone, her movements stiff as she dropped her bag in a chair and reached up to feel the lopsided braid and try to tuck the haphazard strands back in.
Her hands fell to her sides as he reached for the band securing what was left and freed the curls to riot around her tense shoulders.
“You should wear your hair down more often, Ally.” He threaded his hands back through the silkiness, and her shoulders relaxed as his fingers found her scalp.
Eyes closed, Ally’s head lolled back, exposing the lovely line of her throat, and his lips took the invitation. She hummed in pleasure, and the vibration moved through his body as he pulled her close once again.
The contact brought her to life once again, the tension leaving her body as she moved against him. He took a moment to just enjoy the sensation, patient this time to savor it as he knew he’d be able to feel all of her in just a few more minutes.
But Ally’s hands locked around his shoulders as she moved into him, pressing her lips to his in needy hunger, and all of his good intentions to go slow went up in the flames she fanned in his blood.
Ally felt like she was on fire. She needed to touch him. Needed to prove to herself he was real. Needed to feel him against her, in her. And she wanted all of it now.
The buttons on Chris’s shirt gave way easily, and the chest she’d admired earlier in the day was hers to explore. Her fingers traced the ridges of muscle, and when she retraced her path with her tongue, Chris sucked in his breath in pleasure as his hands tightened in her hair.
A boldness she didn’t know she possessed surfaced and she reached for the waistband of his pants. Chris’s stomach contracted at her touch, giving her room to release the button and slide the zipper over the bulge, causing her thighs to clench in anticipation.
“My turn.” Chris stopped her hands and lifted them over her head before he grabbed the cotton sundress and tugged it off in one smooth movement.
For one brief moment, she felt exposed and uncomfortable, but that feeling was soon chased away as Chris tumbled her to the bed. An acre of bronze skin loomed before the hot weight of him covered her and blocked out any thoughts beyond the screaming need his hands were creating as they moved over her skin.
One toe-curling kiss melded into the next as Chris’s tongue flicked against hers like a promise. But when his mouth moved lower, trailing moist heat along the swell of her breasts, she nearly arched off the bed in response. The loss of her bra vaguely registered, followed by the whispery slide of her panties down her thighs.
The featherlight kisses across her stomach were driving her mad. She reached for him, but his fingers locked around her wrist and pulled it over her head. Her other wrist soon followed, and Chris wrapped her fingers around the iron rails of the headboard.
His chest pressed against hers, the crisp hairs tickling sensitive skin, as she savored the feel of him against her from breasts to toes. Blue eyes locked into hers as he held her wrists in place.
“I told you I’d do all the work. That all you had to do was lie back and enjoy.”
“I thought we were talking about sailing.” Lord, was that whispery voice hers?
Even in the shadows of the room, she saw his grin. “No, you didn’t.” Then his head dropped to capture her nipple between his lips.
Yesss, she thought, and then she wasn’t able to think anymore.
“This is amazing. Really wonderful.” After an hour of worrying she’d fall off the boat—yacht, catamaran, whatever it was called—she was finally growing used to the feeling and began to understand the attraction sailing held.
“Then could you quit white-knuckling the edge of the tramp? You’re doing serious damage to my ego.”
“Your ego is in no danger at all.” Sure enough, though, she was still gripping the edge of the trampoline suspended between the two hulls as though her life depended on it. With a great show, she let go of the edge and stretched her arms out to catch the wind.
“That’s better.” He leaned over to give her a quick kiss.
Ah, yes, sailing was becoming more attractive by the minute. Or at least sailing with Chris was. Completely in his element, he controlled the boat with ease as the wind ruffled his hair.
She had vague memories of Chris kissing her goodbye in the small hours of the morning, saying he had some things to do before they set sail. She’d half expected never to see him again and had gone back to sleep with a touch of regret. Not about sleeping with him—oh, no, that topped her list of best decisions ever made—but that she didn’t have the guts to ask him to stay.
So when he’d shown up around ten that morning with a heart-stopping smile and a picnic basket, Ally had had to fight the urge to pull him straight back into bed and spend the rest of her trip there.
But this was good, too. She had a great view of his gift-from-the-gods body as he pulled on ropes and adjusted sails. Blue shorts rode low on his hips, and now that she no longer needed a death grip on the trampoline, she itched to touch him again.
She still couldn’t believe she’d actually…well, not to put too fine a point on it, that she’d had the most amazing sex of her life with this man. He was too good to be true. But, oh, Lord, the things he’d done to her. She hadn’t known, never even dreamed of the possibilities. Even now, her nipples tightened with need, and a fire burned low in her belly.
The little Beach-Cat, as Chris had called it, had one major flaw: zero privacy. The open design of the boat meant anyone could see what they were doing. Not that there were many folks in sight…
She resigned herself to just putting her hand on his leg instead and looked forward to getting back to shore as soon as possible.
“Are we headed someplace specific?”
Chris adjusted the sails again and the little boat leaped forward as it caught the wind. “There’s a little cove just around the point of the island I thought we could explore. I understand it’s pretty secluded.”
Her stomach flipped over at the thought. Maybe Chris’s thoughts were headed in the same direction as hers.
“But we have a little while before we get there. Why don’t you tell me that long story of how you came to be on Tortola alone.”
Ugh. Her blissful fantasy was torpedoed by the thought of home. “In a nutshell, I was supposed to come with someone, but that was canceled months ago. The trip was prepaid, and I didn’t want it to go to waste, even if none of my friends could come with me.”
“Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is an ex.”
Gerry’s blond good looks and petulant pout flashed into her mind. Why had she been willing to settle for someone so shallow? “Very much an ex. Thank goodness.”
“Agreed. His loss is my gain.”
Looking for a way to change the subject before Gerry could spoil her good mood, she went back to sailing. “Does the Circe go this fast?”
“We’re not going all that fast. Three or four knots, maybe. You could probably get out and run faster than this. And the Circe will go a lot faster than four knots.”
Pride filled his voice every time he mentioned the Circe. “That ship—”
“Yacht.”
“Sorry, that ‘yacht’ means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
“I’ve been wanting to buy her for a long time, so yeah, I’m pretty pleased she’s now mine. But, as you saw, she needs a lot of work. A couple of my friends came by today to work on her, in fact.”
A tiny twinge of guilt nagged at her that he’d ditched his repairs of the Circe for her. At the same time, she was very glad he had. She stretched out on the trampoline, belatedly realizing she must be getting used to sailing to want to get comfortable. Or maybe it was just the matter-of-fact way Chris handled the cat that put her at ease. The man was born to be on the water, which led her to wonder what he did when he wasn’t.
“Where’s home for you?”
Chris ran a hand down her side and over the curve of her hip, where his thumb slid under the string of her bikini bottom. “I guess you could now say it’s wherever the Circe is.”
“Really?” She hadn’t thought about that possibility. She’d just assumed…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d assumed. “But you are American. In fact, with that accent I’d say you grew up somewhere on the southern East Coast.”
“South Carolina.”
“I’m a Georgia girl myself.”
“Let me guess. Savannah.”
“You’re good.”
“At many things.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively at her, and the hand at her hip moved promisingly.
“Oh, I fully agree with that.” And she smoothed her hand across his thigh and felt the muscle jump. Chris wanted her. She reveled in the feeling; just a couple of days ago, she had believed she was a boring, plain-Jane loser magnet, but here she was. It couldn’t be real: Ally Smith, Femme Fatale. Oh, her ego definitely needed this.
Another circle of his thumb reminded her that her ego wasn’t the only needy part of her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she could feel them roam over her body. Even with the heat of the sun on her, she shivered.
A sail flapped and Chris cursed, reaching for the rope and quickly running it through a cleat. Ally was almost glad for the distraction; Chris’s undivided attention was a heady thing. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the movement of the water lull her as Chris made easy conversation.
But she could still feel his eyes on her.
A bump pulled her out of her languor, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Chris jump off the boat. She sat up quickly. “What the—ouch!”
“I told you to watch out for the boom.”
Turning to find his voice, she realized the bump she’d felt had been the cat’s hulls reaching the shore. Chris gave a mighty pull, and the boat slid partially out of the water onto the sand.
“Are you okay?” Chris splashed in the shallow water to her side of the boat, his brow wrinkled in concern.
“I’m fine.”
“Then come on.” He held out a hand and pulled her into the surf with him.
The water was cool, a nice contrast to her sun-toasted skin, and clear enough to see her feet on the bottom. Chris moved into deeper water, pulling her gently along with him. She lifted her feet and held on to his arm, allowing herself to float slightly. The shoreline was empty, and no other boats had moored in the little cove. They were very much alone, an advantage Chris seemed keen to act upon as he pulled her legs around his waist. Strong hands dug into her hips as Chris’s mouth found that magic spot on her neck.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he growled. “That bikini wouldn’t adequately cover a Barbie doll. I nearly ran us aground on the sandbar.” His teeth found the string holding her top up, and untied the bow with a simple tug. The grip on her hips loosened, forcing her to grab his shoulders for support as he made quick work of the second string around her back. A second later, her pink top was floating toward shore.
“Um, Chris…”
“There’s no one here but us. No one to see you except me. And I want to see all of you.”
His lips captured hers for another mind-blowing kiss, but she felt him unhook her legs and quickly slide the bikini bottom off. Chris’s trunks bobbed to the surface as he hooked her legs around him again, but this time, no fabric separated them. She moaned at the sensation and he echoed the sound as she moved against him, wanting to feel more.
Although the bathing suit hadn’t covered much, being naked in the water was still a shock. She hadn’t been skinny-dipping since…well, ever. It was decadent and natural and intensely erotic.
Her breasts felt overly sensitized as the water lapped over them, and the position she was in offered him easy access. One arm held her firmly around her waist as his hand captured her breast, caressing it as his thumb grazed across her nipple.
“Ever made love in the ocean, Ally?”
“N-no,” she managed to wheeze.
One eyebrow arched up, and the gentle caress became more insistent. “Then I’m glad you’re open to new adventures this week.”
She hissed as his tongue swirled around her nipple before he pulled it into the heat of his mouth. Oh, yes. New adventures. Sign her up for more, as long as Chris would be her trail guide.
While the nips of his teeth drove her insane, one hand snaked between her legs to find her core. She shuddered as he teased her, his fingers urging her to the edge. How could his skin feel so hot in the cool water? A finger slid inside her, and she rocked her hips into his hand, seeking more. Chris returned the pressure, the heel of his hand hard against her as he urged her on with hot words whispered into her ear.
All she could do was hold on, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she climaxed.
Still thrumming with aftershocks, she opened her eyes to meet Chris’s deep blue stare. The intensity there rocked her, causing a rush she couldn’t identify, but she couldn’t look away.
She kissed him instead, holding his head and pressing her lips to his in an urgent need to share the feeling. Chris’s hand moved, withdrawing from her and she ached at the loss.
But it was blessedly short-lived, as Chris cupped his hands under her thighs, lifted her, and slipped easily inside. Gasping, she tightened her legs, squeezing herself against him until their bodies met. Shudders gave way to full-out tremors as he filled her.
Her senses seemed to sharpen, bringing everything into focus—the gentle lapping of the water against their skin, the waves landing on the beach behind her, the warm rays of the sun on her back and shoulders, the throb of Chris inside her, the rapid pounding of her heart, the sounds of their ragged breathing.
Then Chris started to move, holding and guiding her, and her focus narrowed. Nothing existed except this man and the pleasure rapidly peaking inside her. She trusted him to take her all the way, to hold her, please her and not let her drown, so she let herself go, chanting his name in rhythm to his thrusts. As she shattered, she felt Chris pull her close. A moment later, he held her hips tightly against him as powerful shudders moved under her fingers.
“Still feeling adventurous, Ally?”
With a huge effort, she was able to lift her head from his shoulder and open her eyes. One corner of his amazingly kissable mouth curved up in a challenge.
“Definitely.”
“Then let’s head to shore. I have a surprise for you…”
She felt drunk, more so than the bottle of wine she’d shared with Chris in the cove hours ago could be responsible for. No, she was definitely drunk on sex and sun and the sea—and, of course the man responsible for the best day of her entire life.
Chris helped her off the boat, his hands holding her waist longer than necessary, but she was having trouble keeping her hands off him, as well. The sun had been setting by the time they left their little cove, and a full moon now rode high in the sky, giving her just enough light to see the adorable crinkles around his eyes as he smiled at her.
He brushed his lips gently across hers before pushing the hair back from her face. “I really hate to leave you here, but I need to get the cat back, and there’re some things on the Circe I really need to check on…”
“It’s okay. Go. I’m completely exhausted. I desperately need a shower and some sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. You’ve worn me out.” She rose up on tiptoe for one last kiss. She meant it to be quick, but Chris held her head in his hands and deepened it into a libido-rocking kiss that was both gentle and powerful at the same time. Little flames of desire began to lick at her, and she wondered if she’d ever get enough of him.
“Tomorrow,” Chris whispered as he broke the kiss. “Be ready by ten.”
“Be ready for what?” Not that it mattered as long as he would kiss her like that.
“It’s a surprise. Bring a hat so your nose doesn’t get any pinker.”
She crinkled her nose experimentally and, sure enough, felt the tightness indicating she’d burned it.
“You’re adorable when you do that.” Chris pointed her in the direction of her hotel and patted her butt lightly. “Go. Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Trekking up the beach to the hotel was difficult on such wobbly legs, but somehow she made it. A deep sigh at the perfection of the day escaped, followed quickly by a yawn. She glanced back at the beach, and saw the sails of the boat in the moonlight as Chris took it back to the marina. The best day ever. And if Chris’s promises could be believed, she’d have another—possibly even better, though she couldn’t imagine how—tomorrow.
She couldn’t wait. She wrapped her arms around her waist and curled into the T-shirt she wore—Chris’s shirt. Alone now, she lifted the shirt to her nose and inhaled the scent of him.
Oh, get ahold of yourself. With a shake of her head, she went inside.
Few people were still in the lobby, and she realized that it was later than she had thought. She dug through her bag as she walked, searching for her key.
“Miss Smith! Miss Smith!”
Glad she was no longer Mrs. Hogsten to these people, she turned to see the desk clerk closing in on her fast. Pink message slips fluttered in his hand. “We’ve been looking for you all day,” he said as he thrust the stack at her.
She started to roll her eyes, but caught the anxious look on the clerk’s face. All the languor vanished as adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What? What’s happened?”
“There’s been an accident, Miss Smith. It’s very important you call home immediately.”
He was early, he knew that, but Ally didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would mind. She was just lucky Victor and Mickey had greeted him with a litany of problems with the Circe’s repairs and a Must Call message from his grandfather when he’d returned to the marina last night, because he’d been sorely tempted to turn right back around and join her for that shower. And, of course, sleep would have been out of the question after that.
Instead he’d spent the evening sorting out the Circe’s issues and placating his grandfather. But things were back on track and Ally was now foremost in his thoughts.
Sweet, delicious, tempting Ally.
A few phone calls and he’d borrowed the Siren, a sixty-foot cruiser with every amenity—most importantly, a plush captain’s cabin. The mental picture of Ally stretched across those sheets was enough to quicken his step. Siren was stocked with food and wine and ready to sail. They’d moor off Virgin Gorda tonight, maybe go snorkeling in Devil’s Bay tomorrow. He knew of a great secluded trail up from the beach…
His attraction to Ally was a bit of a mystery, but that combination of sweetness and sensuality was both intoxicating and refreshing, and had lifted a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. Victor and Mickey had teased him about his uncharacteristically good mood, something they said they hadn’t seen since the America’s Cup win three years ago.
In response, he’d left them to replace decking and caulk seams today.
The lobby of the Cordova Inn was deserted, and in the light of day, he noticed how shabby the hotel really was. Ally needed to fire her travel agent for booking her into a place like this. Ally’s room wasn’t far off the lobby—another thing her travel agent should have handled better—and he could see the door standing open.
Good. She’s ready to go.
“Pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because we won’t be back…” Ally’s room was empty, the bed stripped of its sheets. A maid came out of the bathroom carrying an armload of towels and started in shock at seeing him there.
“Where’s the woman who was in this room?”
“I don’t know, sir. I just know to clean the room for the next—”
Chris didn’t wait to hear the rest. In a few quick strides, he was back at the front desk, asking the clerk the same question.
“Miss Smith checked out.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he gritted out. “Where did she go?”
“Home, sir.”
“Why?” He really didn’t want to play Twenty Questions with the clerk, but the young man wasn’t being very forthcoming with answers.
“There was an accident. Her brother, I think the message said. We helped her arrange emergency flights, and I put her in a taxi to the airport myself this morning at six.” He seemed pleased with himself. Apparently Ally could bring out the Lancelot in every man.
“Has her flight left yet?”
“Yes, sir. The first flight to San Juan left at seven-thirty.”
He cursed, and the clerk’s eyes widened.
“However, if you are Mr. Wells, Miss Smith left a message for you.” At Chris’s nod, he passed over a folded piece of hotel letterhead.
Chris—
I’m so sorry to leave in such a rush, but there’s been an emergency and my family needs me. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but the taxi is waiting and my flight leaves in an hour. Thank you for a wonderful day yes-terday—it was possibly the best day of my life. Meeting you was the high point of this trip, and I really wish I could stay longer. Take care. I hope you and the Circe have wonderful adventures together. Love, Ally.
That was it? No phone number? No e-mail address? Not even a “look me up if you ever come to Savannah”? All that was missing was “Have a nice life.”
His good mood evaporated. Ally had left without even saying goodbye.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fe4eb0de-6d78-54dd-b8ab-38f3e5023fc6)
WELL, THAT WAS UNPLEASANT. Not the best way to start a Monday, either. Ally leaned on the sink and took a deep breath. Then she grabbed the toothbrush she’d learned to bring to work with her and brushed her teeth. Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, she was glad she’d switched to waterproof mascara last week.
“Look, Kiddo, I’ll make you a deal. You let me keep my breakfast and I’ll give you a new car when you turn sixteen, okay?” Another wave of nausea had her leaning against the bathroom door taking shallow breaths until it passed. “No deal, huh? Your loss.”
Turning off the light, she opened the door to the office she shared with her friend and business partner. Molly stood waiting with a peppermint and a bottle of water.
“Seriously, now. How much longer is this going to go on?”
Ally took both offerings gratefully. The peppermint helped settle her stomach these days. “According to all the books, about six more weeks if I’m really lucky.” She sank into her desk chair and rested her head on her hands.
“You’re kidding me, right? Six more weeks of listening to you yak up your toenails every morning?” Molly’s pixie face wrinkled in an amusing mixture of concern and disgust.
Ally sipped at her water cautiously, but the nausea had gone as quickly as it had come. “So sorry to inconvenience you, Molls.”
“It’s not that. I’m just worried.”
Ally sighed. Snapping at Molly made her feel as if she’d kicked a puppy. “I know, and I’m sorry to be so witchy this morning. Dr. Barton says this is normal. Unpleasant, but still well within the range.”
It was Molly’s turn to sigh. “‘Unpleasant’ is an understatement.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” Six weeks to go? Between the sickness in the mornings and the unbelievable fatigue that set in around three o’clock, this first trimester wasn’t going well at all.
“Can I get you anything? Crackers? A soda?”
“Just help me find the Miller paperwork. I swear, this baby has stolen all my brain cells.”
Molly casually tapped a folder sitting just left of Ally’s elbow. “By the way, I talked to the landlord. He said we can have that storeroom for just a little more each month. I thought you could move your desk back there along with the baby’s stuff, and we’ll put a conference table out here to meet with clients.”
Tears gathered in Ally’s eyes. After the initial shock of Ally’s announcement had passed, Molly had gone into “prep mode,” never once questioning her decision to keep the baby, focusing instead on how they’d work out the logistics. Ally sniffed and reached for a tissue. Seemed she could check “overly emotional” on her list of symptoms, as well.
Thank goodness for Molly. She’d be a wreck without her. Her mom had flipped at the news, seemingly shocked that anyone accidentally ended up pregnant in this day and age. Ally had had to bite her tongue not to bring up her brother’s pregnant girlfriend, Diane—no one seemed overly surprised about that baby. Molly had been the voice of reason then, too. Her family was just too used to Ally being the sensible, smart, reliable one, she’d argued. In a rare moment of snark—showing how truly angry Molly was with the lot of them—she’d postulated that the real reason the family was upset over the news was that Ally’s attention would be focused somewhere else in the future. God forbid her family might actually have to take care of their own problems and not be able to run to her to sort them out.
Molly frowned. “You’re leaking again.”
Ally fanned her face. “No, I’m not. Just something in my eye.”
“Hey, I’d cry, too, if I went on my honeymoon alone and still managed to wind up pregnant.” Molly tossed the comment over her shoulder as she returned to her own desk.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of the irony.” Right after she’d recovered from the shock of seeing a positive result on the pregnancy test and had realized she’d somehow ended up in the two-percent failure rate of the Pill, that irony had hit her right between the eyes.
It would almost be funny if it were someone else.
Molly’s keyboard clicked as she went back to work, and Ally tried to focus on the books from Miller’s Printing Company. She had to get their payroll data entered and their checks printed before the need for her afternoon nap hit, but she was having trouble concentrating.
From the moment her plane had taken off from San Juan, she’d tried to put Chris out of her mind. She knew she needed to forget him, to just let him and their hours together fade into a dim memory. But it hadn’t worked. She’d felt like a different version of herself, as though she’d been on the verge of something only to have been jerked back by her family responsibilities.
She’d caught a cab directly from the airport to the hospital, expecting to find her brother barely clinging to life. Instead, Steven was slightly battered from flipping his dirt bike, but awake, lucid and not near death at all—a situation she’d been tempted to remedy when he’d shown no remorse at all for ruining her vacation. After all, as her mother had added, Steven needed someone to deal with the hospital billing department and transfer money from his small trust to pay bills with.
The bitterness of missing out on more delightful days with Chris because of her family…well, she’d almost been over it by the time she’d missed her period, but any hope of forgetting about him had vanished at that point.
She was carrying his baby—a permanent reminder of those two wonderful days. How long would it take for her not to remember him every time she looked at their child? Her child, she corrected. This baby was hers alone.
Chris climbed the stairs to his office on OWD’s second floor two at a time. His mornings had taken on a pattern these days—an hour at the gym, a few hours on the Circe’s renovations, lunch, then into the office. Today, though, he came straight from the yard, bypassed his assistant’s desk without stopping for messages and went straight for his computer.
The damage to the Circe’s keel was greater than expected, and he’d contacted a friend for suggestions when he and Jack had clashed over the best course of action. He’d snapped a few quick photos with his phone, but couldn’t get them to send properly for some reason.
He dug the USB cable out of its drawer and waited for the files to download onto his computer. A few clicks later, and the photos and measurements were off to Pete. Aesthetically, Circe’s rehab was going well, but structurally they kept finding new issues to deal with. He’d barely gotten her home—the constant problems had stretched his trip to almost four weeks, much to Victor’s and Mickey’s amusement and Pops’s dismay.
Hopefully, this problem with the keel would be the last.
With the photos sent, Chris closed his e-mail account. The window open on his screen, though, showed another file had been in the download. That’s odd.
He clicked it open, and Ally filled his screen. Something heavy landed in his stomach at the sight of that cheeky smile. He’d forgotten he’d taken it. They’d been almost ready to sail back when his phone had fallen out of his kit bag. She’d caught it before it went overboard and handed it to him, saying something about…what was it? Boys and their toys, he remembered. In response, he’d snapped a quick photo of her. She’d protested, grabbed the phone away, and distracted him with a kiss.
It had been another hour before they’d set off.
Ally.
He didn’t need to look behind him at the bulletin board on the wall to know that Ally’s note with her name and phone number scribbled on the back was still there. A hundred bucks slipped to the desk clerk had gotten her contact info from the computer, but after the initial shock and anger at her abrupt departure had abated—and the struggle to get the Circe home in one piece had helped distract him nicely—he’d never followed up on his knee-jerk reaction to want to find her.
He’d put her from his mind, if not his dreams, and gone back to his life, even if the blithe way she’d dismissed him had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Mickey had taken his life in his hands once to tease him about it—shortly after he’d returned to the Circe instead of sailing off with Ally on the Siren—telling him it was a fair turnaround considering his own love-’em-and-leave-’em past. That was the closest he’d ever come to hitting a crewmate.
He wasn’t sure why he’d even kept her note and number, much less pinned it on the board with the photos of him and his crew in various races over the years.
“Chris?” Marge, Pops’s secretary, stuck her head around his office door. “I brought you a sandwich.”
After thirty years with the company, Marge was more family than employee, and she’d mothered Chris shamelessly since day one. She was well past retirement age, but had said the place would fall apart without her and claimed they’d have to carry her out of there in a box. He and Pops certainly weren’t arguing with her or forcing her out of the door.
Crossing to Chris’s desk, she laid the sandwich on the blotter and ruffled his hair. “Jack said you two had a disagreement about the Circe.”
The sandwich smelled delicious, and his stomach growled at the reminder he’d skipped lunch when the keel had distracted him. “Jack always comes running to you, the tattletale. She’s not his boat.”
“And I’m sure you’re right about the keel. Just don’t forget to eat. Who’s she?” Marge was peering at the picture of Ally, still open on his desktop.
“Just someone I met on Tortola.” He closed the picture.
“And you took her sailing? You never take anyone sailing. She must’ve been some girl.”With a confidence not every employee would have, Marge clicked the photo open again and studied it carefully. “She’s pretty, but not what I’d call your usual type.”
He closed it again and unwrapped the sandwich. His favorite. Marge was too good to him. “Well, Ally was an aberration.”
One of Marge’s penciled eyebrows went up. “Ally is it? Ally of the mystery phone number, perhaps?”
He nearly choked on the large bite of roast beef but managed to swallow it painfully instead. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“It’s right there.” Marge pointed. “It’s not like I had to go looking or anything. Eat.”
Dutifully, he took another bite.
“That’s a Savannah area code. Have you called her?”
Oh, good Lord. “No. And I doubt I will. Too much going on.”
“Piffle.” Marge waved the excuse away. “You just don’t want to. I hope the poor girl isn’t pining away waiting for your call.”
“I doubt it.” She would have had to have left a phone number.
With a shrug, Marge walked back to the door. “That’s a pity. Oh, and your grandfather wants an update on Dagny when you have a minute.”
No, Pops wanted to try to talk him out of it again. Finding fault with the Dagny’s progress was only his newest tactic.
Once Marge left, Chris ate and debated with himself as he stared at the icon on the desktop that would open Ally’s picture if he clicked on it again.
What the hell. He probably should have called her already, just to be sure that her brother was okay. It would have been the right thing to do, after all.
He closed his office door, then dialed.
“AMI Accounting Services. This is Molly.”
A business? Did he even have the right number? “I’m looking for Ally Smith.”
“She’s, um, away from her desk at the moment. Can I take a message?”
This was actually good. He’d salve his conscience and avoid further meddling from Marge by putting the ball in Ally’s court. He’d called. Done his part. “Sure. This is Chris—”
“The contractor?” Molly interrupted, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Great. Ally said you’d be calling. Actually, I can give you the information since she’s busy.”
“I’ll just—” he started again, only to be interrupted with another torrent of words.
“We just need an estimate right now, but we don’t need to start work right away. We’ve got until March to get it ready, after all.” Molly laughed, but then hurried on before he could say anything. “We need to finish out the storeroom into an office for Ally—did she mention the lighting? She’ll need to be able to darken the back half of the room where the crib will go. She doesn’t think it will be a problem, but I think we should go ahead and have the electrics for that done while y’all are finishing out the walls. Don’t you agree?”
One word out of the flood stopped him cold. “Excuse me, did you say crib?”
“Oh, it won’t be a huge crib—I don’t want you to think the space is that big.” There was that laugh again, but he was still stuck on crib. “It’s really just a cubbyhole for Ally and the baby.”
Ally and the baby. And Molly said they had until March. A quick count backward meant that if Ally was pregnant, she’d conceived the baby in June. They were on Tortola in June. She’d told him she’d broken up with her ex months before, which meant she’d gotten pregnant on Tortola.
Adrenaline surged through his system.
“What time do you close today?”
“Oh, we’ll be here until at least five-thirty or so. Can you come this afternoon?”
Without a doubt. “And your address?”
“Four seventeen West Jefferson, suite C. We’ll—”
Chris hung up.
Ally was pregnant. There was a strong possibility the baby was his. Not only had she fled Tortola without saying goodbye, she hadn’t bothered to try to find him and let him know she was carrying his child? Maybe she’d tried to, but…no, he wasn’t that hard to find. Chris Wells might be a common enough name, but between knowing he was from Charleston and the sailing, she’d have found him quickly enough with one search on Google.
She had no intention of telling him. Unexpected anger coiled in his chest.
Keys. Phone. That was all he needed. He opened his office door to find Marge and his assistant in the outer office.
Without slowing his pace, he talked as he passed them. “Good. You’re both here. That saves me time. Marge, tell Pops I’ll talk to him about the Dagny tomorrow. Grace, I’m gone for the rest of the day.”
Marge recovered first. “Where are you going?” she called after him.
“Savannah, damn it.”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Morning sickness was for mornings. If she was going to start losing both her breakfast and her lunch every day, she and the baby were going to starve to death long before they made it out of this phase.
She brushed her teeth for the third time that day and went back to her desk where the rest of her lunch awaited her. One look at the guacamole on her taco salad caused her stomach to heave in protest.
“What now?” Molly asked around a mouthful of burrito.
“Can you get that off my desk? Just get it away from me, please. The guacamole is—ugh.”
Molly, bless her heart, moved quickly, closing the box and carrying it outside without question. Once the offensive condiment was out of sight, her stomach felt much better.
Molly brought her the peppermints once she returned. “That’s so sad. You love guacamole and it’s so good for you.”
“But the baby doesn’t love it, obviously, and I’m willing to give in on this.”
“Since you’re the color of guacamole right now, that’s probably a wise choice. Tortilla chip?”
That seemed safe enough. It was the craving for something salty and spicy that had led her to suggest they order Mexican for lunch in the first place. She would just omit the guacamole for the foreseeable future.
“By the way, one of the Kriss brothers called while you were indisposed.”
The peppermint actually tasted quite nice with the salsa. “Really? That was fast. Their office manager said they were out of town until tomorrow.”
Molly shrugged. “I think they’re going to come by this afternoon and give us the estimate.” Her brow wrinkled. “He was kinda rude on the phone, though. Are you sure this is the company you want to go with?”
“Michael Kriss did that work for my mom last year. She raves about him.”
“Your mom raves about a lot of things.”
“Yes, but when it comes to updating or decorating the Dingbat Cave, she is remarkably focused.”
“Then I’ll withhold judgment until we meet them and get the estimate.”
Ally nibbled on another chip. “Speaking of judgment, Erin kicked me out of the wedding last night.”
“She didn’t! Why?”
“Because I’ll be seven months pregnant and she doesn’t want my big belly drawing attention away from her on her ‘special day.’”
The picture of outrage, Molly nearly sputtered. “That’s insane. What did your mother say?”
“Oh, she’s on board, but it all kind of got lost in the melee after Steven made his big announcement.”
“Do I even want to know?”
It was a good thing Molly understood her family. “My brother is now a Scientologist.”
Molly spat her water across the desk. “Just like that? He woke up one morning and decided he was converting?”
“Pretty much. My grandmother swears she’s seconds from a heart attack at the news, Mom is convinced she’ll never make it into the Junior League now, and Erin claims Steven is just seeking attention since he’s recovered from the accident.” Leaning back in her chair, Ally propped her feet on her desk and crunched another chip.
“And your dad?”
“Dad went fishing, so he hasn’t weighed in yet.”
“Erin just wants all the attention on her and the wedding.”
“You got it.”
“I’m so glad you passed the edict they were no longer allowed to call here unless someone was bleeding.”
“Me, too. I finally took the phone off the hook last night and went to sleep around eight. I was just too exhausted to deal with any of them.”
“Good for you. Can I slap Erin next time I see her?”
Bless Molly and her loyalty. “At least I don’t have to wear that ugly green dress now.”
“Small favors.” Molly trailed off into her usual mutterings about Ally’s clan, but was thankfully distracted by the phone before she worked up too big a head of steam on Ally’s behalf. Once Molly got wound up it was hard to calm her back down.
Ally entered the last few numbers into the computer file, waited for the screen to update, then hit Print. Payroll for other companies was AMI’s bread and butter, and she normally found the process boring. Today, though, the monotony of folding and stuffing checks was just what her mind needed. Between her own problems, her family, and the brain-numbness the baby caused, the simple, repetitive action felt soothing.
Two hours later she had all the checks for all four of their biggest clients ready. She took a few minutes to log on to her mother’s bank account and pay the bills before she logged on to her e-mail account. Four e-mails from her sister. Ugh. She did not want to deal with that right now.
She eyeballed the stack of checks. Molly normally took care of delivery, but the prospect of getting out of the office for a little while was tempting. Two businesses were within walking distance, and a walk in the August sunshine would be good for the baby. And she could stop for a smoothie on the way back.
The sunshine helped clear the cobwebs from her head and being out in the neighborhood improved her mood. She loved the entire City Market district with its variety of restaurants, interesting stores and true community feel. The rent on the office was high, but worth every penny. Ally dropped off both sets of checks, then dawdled in Franklin Square for a little while to enjoy the afternoon. Next year she could bring the baby here when they needed a break from the office.
She shouldn’t delay getting back any longer. After a quick stop at the vegan deli for a banana smoothie for herself and a mango one for Molly, she rounded the last corner.
A very sleek red sports car like the kind James Bond would probably drive was parked in front of their building. As she approached, the driver’s side door opened and a tall blond man got out. There was something vaguely familiar about the man…
Recognition hit a split second before he turned around. Her pulse jumped briefly in excitement before reality hit and her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.
Casually, as though he had every reason in the world to be right outside her office, Chris leaned against the car and crossed his arms across his chest, eerily reminiscent of that first day on the dock weeks ago. Only last time he’d seemed relaxed, open and approachable. Today he looked like he’d been carved from stone, and his jaw was tight. In a tone that could easily cut glass he simply said, “How are you, Ally?”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_a169386c-ab70-5efb-a95d-fc5bc4973c36)
HOLY HELL. Ally tightened her numb fingers around the cup she held as her heart jumped back into her chest and pounded erratically. She leaned against a mailbox for a moment as she tried to gather herself. Breathe. Be calm.
“This is certainly a surprise.” Pleased her voice didn’t shake too much, Ally punctuated it with a small smile.
Chris didn’t return it. “Seems we’re both having surprising days, then.”
She didn’t know what to make of that statement. In fact, she didn’t know what to make of anything—not why he was here, not what she should say in response. “I thought you were still on Tortola with the Circe. What brings you to Savannah?”
His voice was clipped, succinct, the lazy drawl disappearing. “I brought the Circe home to Charleston. I came to Savannah to find you.”
She’d dreamed once that Chris had come to her, and he’d said almost those exact same words. But the reality version wasn’t at all like the dream. No, in her dream, Chris had smiled as he said the words, causing those adorable crinkles around his blue, blue eyes. Those eyes were cold now, and one eyebrow arched up in a mocking challenge. What kind of challenge, she wasn’t sure.
She nearly blurted out, “Why?” but caught the question in time. From the look on his face, she didn’t think she’d like the answer. Instead she went to her next pressing question. “How’d you find me?”
“You mean since you didn’t leave a number on your brief goodbye note?” he mocked. “Seriously, Ally, in this day and age it’s not all that difficult to find someone when you want to.”
Something nasty lurked behind his words, sending a cold shiver through her insides. Her hand went protectively to her stomach, but she caught herself at the last second.
The instinctive movement didn’t pass unnoticed, though, and she winced as Chris’s eyes narrowed. “My question is, why didn’t you find me?”
There’s no way he could know. Bluff your way out of this and leave gracefully. “I enjoyed our time together—honestly, I did—but it was over and done with. I had no idea you’d leave Tortola. Or that you’d be so close to Savannah.” That was the truth. Why did he have to be from Charleston, for goodness’ sake? Why couldn’t he be from Florida or someplace far, far from here? “It seemed best just to let it go.”
Chris levered himself off the car and took a step toward her, his voice dropping dangerously. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you damn well know it. It would have taken you approximately five minutes to find me if you’d tried. And you should have tried as soon as you found out.”
He knew. Oh, God, he knew. How? Paniclike flutters in her chest made it hard to breathe. No, there was no way he could know. “When I found out what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ally. It doesn’t suit you. You’re pregnant. About six weeks if I understand correctly. And six weeks ago you were with me.”
There was the nausea again. She swayed on her feet as it washed over her. Chris grabbed her elbow. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath—inhaling the scent of him and letting it coil through her—and blew it out slowly, trying to will the nausea away. Game over, time to just face it. “How did you find out?”
He tilted his head in the direction of the office. “Your business partner—Molly, right?—she told me today when I called.”
She needed to sit down, but there was nothing on the sidewalk to use as a seat. This was too much to process at once. The happy thought of Chris calling her before he knew about the baby was quickly stomped down by the need to wring Molly’s neck. She took deep breaths to calm herself. It didn’t work.
“I take it from your reaction that it is my baby.”
All she could do was nod. The swimming feeling in her head was too much for anything else.
“And you had no intention of telling me?” Each word was clipped and sharp. This wasn’t the Chris who’d taken her sailing and made her laugh. And made her cry out with his touch. This Chris was livid. Cold.
“I just—”
“There’s no ‘just,’ Ally. Yes or no.”
“No! I mean yes. I mean—” Over Chris’s shoulder, she could see that Sarah, the owner of the bookshop across the street, watching her carefully, a worried crease on her forehead. A quick glance around showed Sarah wasn’t the only one paying attention. No one was headed in this direction—yet—but they had an audience. At least her office didn’t have street-front windows, or else Molly would be out here wanting to know what was going on. This public display had to stop.
She lowered her voice. “Look, I can’t talk about this. Not now. And certainly not here.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. Chris looked around, noted the interest they’d garnered and nodded sharply. “Agreed.”
Relief swept through her. She set the smoothies on the mailbox and rummaged though her bag for a pen and piece of paper. “I’ll call yo—”
“Where do you live?”
Her head jerked up so quickly a neck muscle spasmed. “What?”
“We need to talk. Privately. Your place seems like the obvious choice.”
She’d hoped for a reprieve. A chance to plan strategy. A chance to at least get her heartbeat under control. “But…”
“Right here, right now, or your place. Take your pick.”
How dare he sweep in here and start ordering her about? She didn’t have to “take her pick” about anything. She didn’t need this kind of upset. She should just walk away. But guilt nagged at her. To be fair, he did have cause to be angry.
As she argued with herself, the tension in Chris’s jaw seemed to increase. She wasn’t going to get out of this, so she needed to pull herself together and deal with it as gracefully as possible. Better to get it over with now.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
“My apartment is about ten minutes from here. I’ll need to get my stuff and tell Molly I’m leaving for the day. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
Another nod, this one so small it was barely perceptible. The man was so tense, the cords in his neck were visible.
She managed to open the office door calmly enough and made it inside. Once out of Chris’s eyesight, though, her knees began to wobble again as the magnitude of the situation hit her.
Zombielike, Ally placed the mango smoothie on Molly’s desk before collapsing in the adjacent chair.
Molly brightened as she reached for her drink. “Thanks. Yum.” She took a sip before looking closely at Ally, and the corners of her mouth turned down in concern. “Are you okay? You look pale. Are you going to barf again?”
Possibly. “I’m fine.” The emotional toil of the last ten minutes—not to mention the thought of what was still to come—washed over her and she rubbed her eyes tiredly.
Molly took her answer at face value. “Some guy came in looking for you about twenty minutes ago.”
A hysterical giggle tried to escape. “Oh, he found me.”
“He was all shades of cute. Who is he? Is he single?”
Fatigue—probably not all due to the baby this time—washed over her, and she rested her head in her hands. “Molls, please tell me what possessed you to tell a stranger over the phone that I was pregnant.”
Indignant, Molly nearly choked on her smoothie. “I did no such thing.”
“Really? Chris says he called here today and you told him I was pregnant.”
“Chris? Who’s Chr—Oh.” Molly’s lips puckered. “Someone did call, and when he said Chris, I thought it was the Kriss Brothers. I mentioned why we were fixing up that room. Are you telling me he was…That the guy who came in here…That he’s—” Ally watched as all the pieces fell into place for Molly. “Oh, Ally, I’m so sorry. No wonder you look so pale.”
There was that hysterical laughter again. Ally went to her desk and turned off her computer. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Of course. Go home and lie down. We’ll sort this all out tomorrow. I have to say, though—hummina, hummina. No wonder you…”
“Molly…” she warned.
“Okay, okay. What did he say?”
“Let’s just say he’s a bit angry I didn’t find him when I found out.”
“I told you that you should. He has a right to know.”
“I know.” Overwhelmed again, she swung her chair around and sat. “But being pregnant was complicated enough, I didn’t need anything else. I thought he lived on his boat in the Caribbean, for goodness’ sake. How was I to know he really lived in Charleston and wasn’t just ‘free spirit sailor boy’? Like I needed another…”
“Another Gerry?”
“Exactly. I have enough folks—not to mention the baby—relying on me as it is. I just got one unemployed pretty boy off my hands, I didn’t want to get another one to support. For all I knew, Chris Wells was just another Gerry waiting to happen.”
“Wait a minute.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Chris Wells? And he’s from Charleston? He’s the Chris Wells?”
“Maybe. Why? Who’s the Chris Wells?”
“I thought he looked familiar. Good Lord…Ally, I know you didn’t want to contact him, but are you really telling me you didn’t at least look the man up on Google out of curiosity?” Molly was already at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I didn’t want to know. It was just easier if I didn’t. Look, he’s waiting for me, and he’s not in the most patient of moods right now.”
“He can wait one more minute. Come here.” Molly swiveled her computer screen around as Ally sat in the chair across from her. “You need to see this.”
Chris on a sailboat, grinning at the camera. Her heart did a quick double beat as that was the Chris she remembered—not the very angry man waiting for her outside. “And?”
Molly sighed deeply. “Listen carefully. Ever heard of the OWD Shipyard outside Charleston? The W stands for Wells. OWD is the primary sponsor of Wells Racing, and the owner’s grandson, Chris, captains their boats. Team Wells has won every major race in the last five years—including the America’s Cup. They’re considered unbeatable. My God, Ally, you certainly know how to pick them. Chris Wells is the Tiger Woods of sailing.”
Slowly, Molly’s words started to sink in, and the information on the screen in front of her corroborated her story. “How do you know this?”
Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Back when I was dating Ray, he was really into ships and racing. It was all he talked about.”
“Yachts.” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Chris was a celebrity. And the heir to the OWD Shipyard to boot.
Molly looked at her blankly.
“Those are yachts, not ships.” He’d lied to her. Said he raced some and occasionally won. Yeah, right. He was the freakin’ god of the sailing world and he’d led her to believe…Well, he hadn’t really led her anywhere, but he certainly hadn’t been totally honest, either. Chris wasn’t the only one angry now.
Not caring much anymore that Chris was waiting for her, she continued to click through the links, and each Web page brought a new emotion. She welcomed them. By the time she heard the chimes over the door, announcing that he’d gotten impatient and had come to get her, she no longer felt quite so shaky or defensive.
“Are you ready yet, Ally?” Anger still radiated from him, but she no longer cared how mad he was.
Molly, bless her heart, tried to defuse the situation. Extending her hand to Chris, she introduced herself. “We didn’t meet properly earlier. I’m Molly, Ally’s business partner.”
Chris nodded, but his eyes never left Ally. He seemed to be trying to stare her into the ground, but she felt steady and refused to give him the satisfaction of cowering this time.
Grabbing her things, she stood. Time to get this over with. “Yes, I am. You drive. I’ll see you tomorrow, Molls.”
Chris watched as Ally led the way to his car and climbed in without waiting for him to assist. Something had changed in the last few minutes, and he now felt anger radiating from her.
Other than the terse directions she provided, she sat in silence as they drove. What did she have to be so irritated about? He was the wronged party here. When he’d seen her come around the corner, his body had leaped to life, his blood heating and his hands itching to touch her again. But the look on her face when she’d recognized him had killed that feeling as it answered almost every question he’d asked himself on the drive down from Charleston. She was pregnant. The baby was his. And she hadn’t planned on ever telling him.
When he’d realized it was all true, the anger had boiled over and he’d blasted her with it. He hadn’t handled the situation as well as he’d planned, and now guilt nibbled at the edge of his ire.
The only important answer he didn’t have yet was why, but he planned to rectify that soon enough. With Ally practically vibrating with hostility as she sat next to him, though, he doubted he’d get a satisfactory answer at the moment.
In an attempt to both appease his guilt and ease the tension between them, he backtracked to less volatile territory—at least while they were in a small, enclosed space. “How are you feeling?”
Ally’s eyebrows went up and she seemed poised to attack. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The mornings are pretty rough, and I’m tired a lot.”
“And that’s normal?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately.” Her lips twitched in amusement, and, for a brief moment, he flashed back to Tortola, back to when her inability to hide her reactions had charmed him. But the moment passed quickly, and her amusement faded as rapidly as it had come. “Turn left. That’s me on the corner.”
The two-story Victorian sat gracefully among its historic neighbors, beautiful and well cared for despite its age. He’d been so occupied on the short drive, he hadn’t noticed she was directing him to the heart of Savannah’s historic district. “This is your place?”
Ally didn’t break stride as she climbed the steps to the spacious verandah and slid her key into the lock. “The first floor is. I may not be the heir to a shipyard or have zillion-dollar endorsement agreements, but I do all right.”
So she did know who he was. She may not have known when they met, but at some point she’d done her homework. Which meant she could have contacted him if she’d wanted to. His ire flared up again.
Ally’s sandals slapped against hardwood floors, and the sound echoed off the high ceilings as she moved around the room before settling on an overstuffed red sofa. The apartment suited her—or at least the little he knew about her—old-fashioned around the edges but still modern. The absurdity of the situation hit him at that moment. A woman he barely knew was carrying his child.
“You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”
The challenge was there; he no longer had the element of surprise on his side, and Ally must feel as though she had the home court advantage now. “How long have you known?”
“That I was pregnant? About three weeks.”
“And in all that time, it never occurred to you that you should tell me?” Agitated, he paced in front of the sofa she sat on, hoping the extra expense of energy would keep him from lashing out again as his temper built.
“To what end? As far as I knew, you lived on a boat somewhere in the Caribbean and hooked up with a different girl every night of the week.”
“And you assumed the swabbie wasn’t worth telling? He was good enough to sleep with on vacation, but not good enough to help you raise a child?”
“Be reasonable, Chris. It’s not a matter of ‘good enough.’ I was just trying to be rational about this.”
“When you found out differently, you didn’t call me because…”
“I only found out about the great Chris Wells twenty minutes ago, so it didn’t affect my assessment of the situation.”
“You expect me to believe that when you found out you were pregnant, you never once tried to find out more about me?”
For the first time in this ridiculous conversation, Ally’s temper seemed to flare. “To be brutally honest, I had enough on my plate to figure out. I wasn’t all that worried about you.”
“Oh, no. I can’t see why the father of the baby would have any impact whatsoever on your plans.”
As fast as it had come, the heat fled from her voice and her tone became conciliatory. “Don’t take it personally. I loved every minute we spent together, but it was just a summer fling. It was over, as far as everything was concerned.”
He gestured at her stomach. “I beg to differ.”
Ally sighed and rubbed her face. “Look. My hormones are a mess right now, I cry at the drop of a hat, I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, and I haven’t been able to eat all day. I can’t deal with this level of hostility, and I don’t see much sense in continuing to shout at each other. Let’s just cut to the chase, okay?”
Personally, he felt there was a lot of ground still to cover, but only a true jerk would continue to upset a pregnant woman. It wasn’t good for the baby.
His baby.
While anger had been driving him since Molly unwittingly dropped the news, the magnitude of the situation finally slammed into him. He was going to be a father. Hard on the heels of that realization was the even more shocking understanding that he wanted this baby.
Now he needed to sit down. He chose a chair across from Ally and nodded for her to continue.
Ally took a deep breath before she spoke. “I didn’t try to find you because I didn’t think it would matter. You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who was looking to be tied down, so telling you about the baby—even if I’d been able to locate you—didn’t seem like a winning situation.” He started to interrupt, but she hurried ahead. “Obviously, Iwas mistaken with that assumption, and for that I apologize. I didn’t set out to get pregnant, but I know I want her. Or him. You don’t have to worry, though. I have a good job, plenty of friends and family, and I can handle this. I don’t expect anything from you.”
Wringing Ally’s neck sounded very tempting at the moment. “What if I expect something? This is my child, too, remember.”
Genuine shock at his statement sent Ally’s eyebrows upward. Had she never once considered that possibility while she was “handling” things?
“Well, um, I’m sure we can work something out. Visitation arrangements or…”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Then what do you want?” There was a beat of silence before Ally laughed. “It’s not like we can get married or anything.”
Actually, that was a possibility he hadn’t considered yet. He hadn’t had three weeks to make decisions. Hell, he’d barely had three hours. “Why not?”
“Be serious.”
“Maybe I am.”
“I’m not looking to get married at the moment.” A shadow crossed her face but disappeared a second later.
“Neither was I, now that you mention it, but the circumstances have changed.”
That seemed to spark something, and her calm facade dropped. She stood and paced, and her hands moved agitatedly as she talked. “But the century hasn’t. We don’t have to get married because I’m pregnant. There are other—”
“I’m not going to be delegated to the occasional weekend.” He’d had enough of that with his own parents in the early days after their divorce. Until his mother had decided not to bother anymore, at least.
“Then what do you want?”
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet and his hands were gripping her arms. “To be a part of my child’s life. To be his father!”
Ally shook off his grip. “I’m offering you that. We’ll just have to figure something out that works for both of us. Charleston is only a couple of hours away…”
As unbelievable as it sounded, Ally seemed to think he was really going to settle for whatever little plan she had turning in her head. Not likely. “Damn it, Ally—”
She spun on him in a fury. “Don’t even look at me like that. How dare you come storming down here and start making demands? This is my baby, and I’ll be the one making the decisions.”
He moved toward her, and she took a step backward. “Your baby? Hello, you didn’t get pregnant by yourself. That baby is just as much mine as it is yours.”
She lifted her chin and tossed down the gauntlet. “Maybe not. Maybe I lied and it’s not yours after all.”
So much for cutting to the chase and discussing this like adults. “Don’t try me, Ally. You won’t like the results.”
Brown eyes narrowed and a flush rose on her chest. “Is that some kind of threat?”
“I don’t make threats. Just promises.”
The flush continued to rise up her neck, and Ally’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Get out,” she snapped. “Now.”
He stood his ground. “This conversation is not over—”
“Oh, yes, it is. Leave.” Stalking across the room, she picked up the phone. “Leave or I’ll call the police.”
“Now who’s making threats?”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t make empty threats. Get out of my house.”
He’d never had anyone try his temper the way Ally did, and he was moments from saying or doing something he might regret later. Maybe it was best he leave before then. As he opened the door, he warned her one last time. “This doesn’t end here. This is far from over.”
“Oh, no. It’s over. I assure you of that. Goodbye, Chris.” She slammed the door behind him and he heard the lock click into place.
She thought it was that easy? That it was over just because she said so? She might have gotten away with it on Tortola, but the circumstances had changed dramatically.
He had his phone out of his pocket and his assistant on the line before he even had the car started.
Ally was in for a rude awakening.
Ally’s anger carried her as far as the kitchen for a glass of water before it deflated in a rush that had her knees buckling. Ice rattled in the glass as she filled it from the tap with a shaky hand. Easing onto a bar stool gratefully, she sipped carefully and cursed Chris for making her lose her temper.
She never lost her temper. She was the calm one while everyone else spun out of control. Molly had always praised her flair for diplomacy, a skill she’d honed over years of dealing with her family and their constant dramatics. Why had it failed her now? Instead of calmly—rationally—coming to a workable agreement and smoothing ruffled feathers, she’d managed to make the situation worse. Where was her famed calm and diplomacy today? It had to be the hormones. This pregnancy was really messing with her head.
But now that she could see something other than a red haze…Ugh. She may not know Chris very well, but she had a sinking feeling she’d made a huge tactical mistake in firing up his anger.
Her five minutes with Google earlier today had told her a lot about the great Chris Wells. A true golden boy, he came from old Charleston money and had the whole sailing world worshipping at his feet. Maybe she should have given in to her curiosity sooner; then she wouldn’t have been at such a disadvantage today.
“You sure know how to pick them,” Molly had said it with a kind of begrudging awe, but Ally knew that wasn’t the case at all. Molly saw his good looks, his charm and his money, and therefore branded him a good catch. Ally, though, knew better. Looks, charm and money didn’t equal squat in her book. Gerry had looks and charm to spare, yet he’d been an emotional black hole. She’d invested far too much in his dreams, only to get nothing in return except four years of doing his laundry. Golden boys had a tendency to expect the world to revolve around them, and she had learned her lesson the hard way. Hell, her own brother was a shining example—handsome and full of charm, he’d been dazzling girls since junior high. But he was self-centered and expected everyone to dance to his tune just for the privilege of basking in the reflected glow. His girlfriend, Diane, would have been history by now if she hadn’t turned up pregnant, and even impending fatherhood hadn’t tamed Steven.
If she’d found all this out about Chris and hadn’t been carrying his child, she probably wouldn’t have contacted him. Once bitten, twice shy. Between her brother and Gerry, she had enough experience to know that Chris would be a very bad idea.
And now she had someone else to think about, someone she had to put first. How long would Chris want to play Daddy before he got bored and went back to his far-more-exciting world? No way she’d put her son or daughter through that.
Most likely Chris was just reacting out of shock, anger and guilt. It would pass now that he knew she didn’t expect anything from him, and his sense of responsibility would fade. She just needed to wait it out. After all, even as mad as he was at the moment, what could he do?
Glad she hadn’t completely lost her ability to be rational, she sent a quick text message to Molly to let her know everything was okay and that she was now going to take a much-needed nap. The usual afternoon fatigue was even worse in the aftermath of such emotional upheaval.
She pulled the shades to darken the bedroom and didn’t bother to do any more than kick off her shoes before stretching out across the comforter. As she closed her eyes, the image of Chris climbing out of that car—that one second when she’d recognized him, before he had turned around and she’d seen the anger on his face—was waiting for her. And now that she was alone and sleep was crowding in from all sides, she couldn’t ignore the fact her heart had skipped a beat in excitement, and for a fraction of a second her whole body had screamed to life.
If only things were different….
Don’t go there. Ally rolled over and punched the pillow into shape. This was not the time to play If Only. She knew better than that. Things were what they were, and the sooner she got that through her head the better.
But it didn’t stop her mind from toying with the might-have-beens until sleep dragged her under a few minutes later.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_28b48234-5fd9-5937-9b20-6441a2eab3a8)
THE WORST PART of Chris’s job had to be the paperwork. He had no patience for the pages of numbers and reports that cluttered his desk on a daily basis. He’d rather be down in the yard doing something—anything, even welding, which he hated—rather than be stuck inside buried under a pile of paperwork. But, as Pops reminded him daily, OWD was still a family business, and as the only direct family Pops had left, Chris had to do his part.
That was soon to change, though. Chris being the only Wells left in line, that is. The news of Ally’s pregnancy had thrilled the old man and put a new spring in his step. A great-grandchild—security for keeping OWD in the family—had shifted Pops’s focus. He’d been a little disappointed Chris hadn’t chosen to go about procreating in the old-fashioned way and that more children wouldn’t be forthcoming anytime soon, of course, but he’d been more than just a little pleased, anyway. In the past few years, Pops’s encouragement to get married had crossed the line into harping, so Chris knew Pops would see this as hope Chris did intend to settle down and have many more children—if not with Ally, then with someone else.
But it had shifted—at least temporarily—focus off the Dagny and the solo attempt.
He understood all too well where Pops’s concerns stemmed from, but sailing had come a long way in the last twenty years, and his father’s boat, the Fleece, had lacked many of the technological and safety features currently being installed on the Dagny. Yes, any attempt to sail solo around the world was dangerous, but the chances of him ending up like his father were considerably less.
Nope, no matter what Pops’s hopes and plans were, he’d still be making his announcement at the club’s annual gala on September tenth. That would be just enough time to get a buzz going before he set sail in October, but not so long that it lost its newsworthiness before it happened.
In the meanwhile, though, he still had to go over the shareholders’ reports. Resigned, but determined to get it done in the least amount of time possible, he dug into the stack of papers. Engrossed and concentrating, he didn’t know Marge had even entered his office until the large manila envelope landed on his desk.
“The courier from Dennison and Bradley dropped this by for you. Can I ask why that shark has been circling the office recently?”
Marge always referred to his grandfather’s attorney as “that shark.” Where the animosity came from, Chris didn’t know. Marge seemed to like everyone else in the world, but she always absented herself whenever Dennison came around and spoke disparagingly of him afterward.
“He’s taking care of a few things for me.” Opening the envelope, his copies of the papers served to Ally this morning slid out in a satisfying bulk of legalese.
“That’s what worries me.” Marge’s brows drew together in a concerned frown. Marge, too, had received the news of the baby with a mixture of joy and shock, and had tossed in an “Aren’t you glad you called her?” as well. But in the three days since he’d returned from Savannah and shared the news, Marge had hovered about, watching with great interest and asking vague, random questions about his plans. As she closed the office door and settled in the chair across from his desk, he assumed he was about to find out why.
Marge squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Your grandfather is going to either kill me or fire me but, either way, I’m not just going to stand by quietly again.”
He knew his grandfather would do no such thing, and he knew Marge knew it, as well. “Again?”
“It wasn’t my place to get involved before. I was still new here and figured there was a lot more going on than I knew about. But after seeing how it’s turned out…” Marge stopped and shook her head. “Porter talks to me, and he’s simply bubbling over with the idea of a great-grandchild. And if he’s called in that shark Dennison, he’s falling back on the same dirty tricks he and your father—God rest his soul—used years ago on your poor mother.”
“My poor mother?” It was all he could do not to laugh at the turn of phrase. “My mother got exactly what she wanted in the divorce—freedom.”
“And I’m telling you that wasn’t what Elise wanted at all. You were too young to understand at the time, but I’d hoped that over the years you would learn the truth. Maybe if Paul had lived, you would have found out, but after he died, Porter closed ranks around you even tighter than before. He’s basically a good man, so I always assumed his behavior was fueled by Paul’s anger and then later his own grief over Paul’s death. But now, I’m not so sure.”
He’d never heard Marge speak a single ill word about Pops, so the clipped words and barely concealed distaste in her voice came as a surprise. Her hesitancy to just spit out whatever was bothering her was also odd. Marge had practically raised him, and she’d never once held back. Obviously, whatever she was stewing about was important.
Marge wasn’t making a lot of sense, but she had his attention nonetheless. “Start at the beginning.”
“Your parents started off with a bang—all fireworks and excitement. Elise was sweet and shy and very sheltered, and she never stood a chance against Paul’s looks and charm and money—something I’m sure you’re familiar with, seeing as you’re him made over.” Marge’s stony facade cracked a little as she smiled at him with pride.
“But that’s neither here nor there.” She waved away the comment. “Unlike you, Paul never could be convinced to take an interest in the business, and Porter indulged his obsession with racing. Paul was always gone—another race, another title, other women—and your mother simply couldn’t continue to put up with it. All she wanted was a simple, amicable divorce.”
“Which my father gave her.”
Marge’s brows went up at the interruption. “At first, yes. Then a couple of years later she met that nice man and wanted to marry him. It wasn’t a problem until she told your father she’d be moving to California after the wedding and they’d need to work out a new custody agreement. I think that was the day your grandfather finally went gray-headed from the news. Your mother left here in tears. I’ll never forget it. Next thing I knew, that shark Dennison was in the mix and he buried your mother in restraining orders, custody papers and competency hearings. Money buys a lot of legal experts, and Elise wasn’t able to fight back.”
A vague memory stirred of his mother on the phone, holding papers in her hand and crying. He glanced at the stack of papers Dennison had drawn up, and guilt nibbled at him.
“I think you’re beginning to get my point. They just wore her down until she couldn’t fight them anymore. Then, to compound the issue, they let you think she’d willingly walked out of your life.”
No wonder Marge had been the one to comfort him after his mother had left. She’d known the reason why. He felt the slow burn of anger in his stomach, but there was nowhere to direct it. His father was dead. His mother was dead. Marge had done the best she could in the situation. And Pops…well, it was tough to stir up too much anger towards a seventy-year-old man who was all the family he really had left.
“All I’m saying, Chris, is that if those papers are what I think they are—and the look on your face tells me they are—then don’t. Don’t do to Ally and your child what was done to you. You can work this out. She doesn’t deserve it and your child deserves to have its mother.”
Marge sat back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap—the signal that she’d said her piece and was done. Now he was faced with a dilemma. He’d let his temper carry him to this point—Ally had been served with these same papers first thing this morning. At least he had Marge’s information before he had to talk to Ally about them and made the situation worse. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had an angry phone call already. It was a lot to think about, and he needed to plan his next move carefully.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, and Grace cut in. “Mr. Chris, there’s a—Hey! Wait!” At the same moment, his office door burst open and Ally stood there, chest heaving and curls rioting around her head. She held a familiar manila envelope in one white-knuckled hand.
“You bastard! How dare you. You—” Anger choked off her words.
Grace was right behind her. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop her.”
Three women looked at him. Grace in apology, Marge in question and Ally…Well, he was just lucky looks couldn’t kill.
So much for time to think and plan.
It was a good thing she didn’t own a gun. It had taken a little while to figure out the legalese, but once the meaning of those papers had sunk in, fury consumed her. Even the unflappable Molly had been taken aback at the extent of the lawsuits.
That fury had only grown during the drive to Charleston, and she’d broken every speed limit in two states in her rush to confront Chris. Now that she was here, she was itching to do him physical harm, especially since he had the gall to look surprised to see her.
She couldn’t form words. Every phrase she’d practiced on the drive was trapped behind the anger choking her.
While the blond-haired assistant sputtered behind her, a matronly woman rose from the chair in front of Chris’s desk. As she turned, Ally saw both concern and, oddly, affection in her eyes.
“You must be Ally. You’re even lovelier in person.” The woman’s kind smile and gentle pat to Ally’s arm as she passed seemed surreal. “Let’s go, Grace.”
The older woman ushered the younger one out and closed the door behind her, leaving Ally alone with Chris, who looked remarkably calm and unperturbed for someone who’d just served enough legal papers on her to put that lawyer’s child through college with the expense.
“Would you like to sit?” Chris came around from behind his desk and gestured toward the chair the woman had just vacated.
Had she crossed into the freaking Twilight Zone? “I don’t know if I should. You’d probably use my decision to sit against me later.”
She couldn’t tell if the slight inclination of Chris’s head was meant to be mocking or conciliatory as he perched on the edge of the desk. The jerk.
“I expected I’d hear from you today. I kind of assumed you’d call, though.”
Molly had suggested the same thing, claiming distance would make it easier to deal with Chris and his outrageous demands. She’d been too mad to listen. “You questioned my competency, my fitness to be a parent. You’re demanding my medical records and serving me with an order to keep me from traveling outside Georgia or South Carolina, and you wonder why I came to confront you in person? Maybe we should be questioning your mental stability.”
“Actually, my attorney did all of that. I just told him I wanted my child and that you were unwilling to come to an agreement.”
How dare he try to blame her for this? “So you decided to serve all this—” she tossed the envelope onto the desk “—on me? It won’t work. I’m not going to let you take custody of this baby. I’ll fight you.”
“But you won’t win.”
A red haze clouded her vision, and she curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “This is the twenty-first century. I have rights, and no judge in the universe would rule in your favor. I’m not incompetent.” She lifted her chin in defiance. That much she was sure of. She was the poster child of competency.
“Maybe not, but it’ll still cost you buckets of money to prove it.”
All the air left her lungs at his matter-of-fact pronouncement, but Chris just shrugged. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but it doesn’t really matter if I can do half of what’s in that envelope. My lawyers will serve you with motion after motion, and you’ll be forced to respond to each one.”
The possibility of a long, legal battle sobered her. It wouldn’t matter if she was in the right; the repercussions would be horrific—not only on her, but on her family, on Molly, on the baby. Especially on the baby.
“Zillion-dollar endorsement deals will buy a lot of legal expertise, Ally.”
Dear God, he was right. She didn’t have the money to fight. She’d be bankrupt just responding to a fraction of the motions in that envelope. And if she couldn’t fight him, would he win simply by default? Her stomach dropped. She’d made a horrific mistake in angering him, and she’d walked straight into this mess with her pride and anger. But what could she do now?
Chris seemed to realize when that last thought crystallized for her. He indicated for her to sit again, and took the other chair. “Maybe now you’ll be more open to negotiation.”
Negotiation? Just the two of them? She looked carefully for the trap, but Chris’s face was the picture of friendliness and conciliation. Oh, she’d love to kill him. “You mean to tell me…You did this to…This was all just scare tactics?” Hesitant relief now mingled with her earlier anger, and the emotional toll left her drained as her head spun. As much as she’d like to turn on her heel and march out of there, she needed to sit.
“No, not just scare tactics. If we can’t come to a workable solution, I will do whatever it takes. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
She tried to sort her scrambled thoughts, but those blue eyes locked on hers didn’t help the process. She’d spent the past three days trying to figure out what to do, and she wasn’t any closer to a solution than she was when Chris had stormed off her front porch. Trying to balance what was right for the baby with what would be good for them both in the long run…Chris’s arrival had thrown all of her carefully made plans into the wind.
Then those papers had arrived and she hadn’t been able to think at all. Chris’s sudden willingness to be reasonable just brought back all of her earlier problems—this time coupled with the suspicion she wasn’t going to like these negotiations.
Anger had kept her not-just-in-the-morning sickness at bay so far today, but as it ebbed, nausea swept back in. She fumbled in her purse for the bag of saltine crackers stashed there. She nibbled slowly on one, grateful for the stalling tactic, as Chris frowned. Then he left, returning a minute later with a paper cup.
“Ginger ale. It should help.”
She nodded her thanks and sipped carefully. A few deep breaths later, her stomach settled some and the queasiness waned.
“I’m guessing discussing this over lunch is out of the question?”
Looking up, she saw a hint of laughter in those blue eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He found her nausea amusing, did he? Next time, she’d just let fly on his shoes. See how funny he thought that was. “I’ll stick with the crackers.”
Of course, sitting in Chris’s office with those horrible papers still on his desk waiting for him to tell her what he wanted from her wasn’t helping her stomach much, either. Chris certainly had the upper hand in this “negotiation,” and she knew it. You have no one to blame but yourself, her conscience nagged. You fired the opening shot. She needed to forget about her stomach and focus on keeping Chris reasonable—
“How’s your brother?”
The change in topic jarred her, and she looked at him blankly.
“Your brother got hurt. That’s why you left Tortola so suddenly, right?”
How’d he know that? “He’s fine now. He flipped a dirt bike in a race and it landed on him. He was banged up a bit, but Mom just did her usual freak-out and I had to come sort everything…” Don’t give him more ammunition to use against you later. Her batty family was a liability now. Great. She tried to shrug off the statement. “You know how moms are.”
Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles, looking far more relaxed than was at all fair, considering the emotional mess she was at the moment. “And you’re in business with your best friend. That’s interesting. You’re a bookkeeper, correct?”
These questions she could answer properly. Nothing about AMI could possibly be used against her later. “Bookkeeping and general accounting, payroll, taxes—we do it all. My degrees are in accounting and finance, and Molly is also a CPA.” She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. “We’ve been in business for six years now and we operate totally in the black. Our clientele continues to grow, and we’ve won several small business awards…” At Chris’s amused smile, she stopped. “What’s so funny?”
“This isn’t an interview. You don’t need to read me your résumé.”
Confusion reigned. “Then why did you ask?”
Chris sighed. “I’m trying to get to know you a bit better. We’re about to have a baby together, and we hardly know each other.” His eyebrow quirked up suggestively. “We didn’t spend much time talking before.”
In a flash, the memories of how they did spend their time hit her, and the muscles in her thighs tightened as the images caused a physical response. She hadn’t allowed her thoughts to go there since Chris had shown up so unexpectedly and turned her life upside down. But now they were alone, he was within arm’s reach, and he was smiling at her knowingly.
Argh. She tamped the memories down and focused on the moment. Chris wanted to play get-to-know-you games, but she wanted to get this over with so she could figure out what her next move should be. The suspense was killing her.
Just don’t antagonize him again. Be calm. Be diplomatic. “Can we get back to the matter at hand? I apologize for the other day, and obviously you do have a right to be a part of your baby’s life. I want to work this out amicably, but you have to tell me specifically what you’re after.” Proud of herself, she sat back in the chair.
Chris steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. “You’re sure you don’t want to get married?”
Oh, God. “Positive,” she managed to choke out.
“It’s a simple, obvious solution.”
“And one that’s guaranteed to put us right back in this situation in a few years—only then, we’d be fighting out the divorce as well as custody arrangements.” She wasn’t ready to think about marriage to anyone—not now. She’d already had one narrow escape—a lucky one—but it had taken its toll. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to resist his golden-boy looks and charm forever, and then she’d be in real trouble when it all went to hell. “Like you just said, we barely know each other. Great sex is hardly a foundation for a good marriage.” Did I actually just bring up sex again? Damn.
Chris leaned forward in his chair, and now only inches separated them. Her pulse kicked up a notch and her skin grew warm. “Great sex? Try amazing, Ally.” One finger trailed down her arm, causing the hairs to rise. “And there are worse places to start. At least we know we’re compatible in that aspect.”
Compatible didn’t even begin to describe it. Her entire body was screaming for him now. She swallowed hard. “Chris, stop.” To her utter amazement and relief, he did, leaning back to put space between them. She took big gulping breaths of air to clear her mind, but his scent still hung in the air between them, and inhaling only made the sex-charged cloud worse.
Stay angry. Don’t let hormones confuse this issue.
But maybe she wasn’t the only one having a hard time pulling it together. Chris dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head as if to clear it. Then, blowing out his breath in a loud rush, he stood and extended a hand to her. “Come on. I’ll take you down to see the work on the Circe.”
Now what? She needed a map to keep up with him. “Why? We still need to ta—”
“We’re not going to find any solutions today, Ally, because we’re on opposite sides of the table. You’ve agreed that we barely know each other, so it seems the next logical step would be for us to get to know each other. We have some time before any decisions have to be set in stone, and it will make the whole process easier if we’re friends. So I’m going to take you to the yard and show you how the Circe is coming along.”
Chris stood there with his hand out to her, but she hesitated. After the roller-coaster ride she’d been on this morning, she didn’t trust herself to see clearly. She didn’t understand the mercurial changes of Chris’s attitudes, and she had a hard time keeping up. She wanted to believe he was sincere, but from the corner of her eye, she could still see the hateful envelopes on his desk. Of course, her traitorous body was on board for “friendliness” and anything else that might come from it, and her hormonally confused brain kept going back to that If Only game where everything had turned out differently. The tiny part of her mind that was still able to think rationally tried hard to tamp down the other emotions and feelings confusing her. It was enough to give her a pounding headache as she tried to figure out what to do.
Then Chris smiled at her, and the crinkles nearly did her in. He had a point—regardless of how they worked out the details, they were going to be attached to each other for the rest of their lives through this child.
Six weeks ago, she’d made a decision that had changed her life forever by sleeping with him. Now she had to decide how she wanted to go forward, and animosity wouldn’t be a good choice—for her or the baby. “You want this baby, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
Options. Decisions. She had to choose quickly. She was caught between Scylla and Charybdis, and ironically, the Circe was offering her a possible safe navigation through with minimal losses. She was slowly gaining a new—albeit grudging—respect for Odysseus.
But that didn’t mean she was going to just roll over. “Are you willing to phone your lawyer right now and call him off?”
“Yes. I’m willing to be reasonable as long as you are.”
“Do that first,” she said, putting her hand in his as she let him help her to her feet. “Then you can show me the Circe.”
“You’ve done an amazing job. She looks much better than she did.” Ally ran her hand over the new seats in the Circe’s cockpit. “And the cabin is going to be positively decadent—I guess her racing days really are over.”
The cavernous OWD workshop was usually alive with people and noise, but with most of the men gone to lunch at the moment, it echoed instead. Glad for the lack of an audience, Chris watched Ally carefully as she explored the dry-docked Circe. While she seemed to accept his offer of a truce, she was still wary.
Ally’s arrival, so hard on the heels of Marge’s revelations, had thrown him. But he was used to thinking fast on his feet, making the most of whatever opportunity came his way, and he was secretly quite pleased with how quickly he’d managed to adapt the situation to suit him.
Dennison hadn’t been pleased to get the phone call and had tried to convince him to reconsider, but Chris was now hopeful he and Ally could work this out. Therefore, he concentrated on repairing what little relationship he had with Ally.
As she sat back in the cockpit and gave the tiller an experimental push, Chris assessed his options. While he’d originally floated the idea of marriage halfheartedly, it had oddly taken on new appeal. Marriage had never been on his radar before, and it would certainly solve a lot of problems. Ally was smart and beautiful, and she was already carrying their child. They got along well enough—especially in bed. Successful marriages had been built on a lot less.
The thought of Ally in bed led to the thought of Ally in the ocean, Ally on the beach, Ally on the trampoline of the cata-maran…his entire body grew hard at the memories. Oh, yes, they were certainly more than compatible there.
“What’s that one called?”
Ally’s question brought him back to the matter at hand. He looked where she pointed at the yacht dwarfing the Circe. “That’s the Dagny. It means ‘new day.’”
“And it’s a racing yacht? It’s awfully big.”
“Ninety-six feet, but designed to go long distances very quickly with only a one-man crew. I’d offer to take you aboard, but Jack is a little possessive of the Dagny at the moment.”
“Jack?”
“A cousin who designs all of Team Wells’s racers. The Dagny is his latest pride and joy.”
“And how far is a ‘long distance’? I mean, I would have considered Tortola to Charleston a pretty long distance but the Circe made it, and she’s tiny in comparison.”
He laughed. “I said the Dagny would cover long distances quickly. The Circe might make it around the world, but not in any reasonable amount of time.”
Ally looked at him strangely. “That’s what you’re planning to do? Sail the Dagny around the world? Alone?”
“And break the record at the same time.”
“Wow.” She sat quietly, her brow furrowed as she thought. “How long does that take?”
“If I’m going to break the record, less than sixty days.”
The furrows got deeper. “Oh.”
“Ally? Is everything okay?”
The frown lines disappeared as she brightened and plastered a smile across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just trying to reconcile this Chris with the one I met on Tortola.”
“Same guy.” He grinned at her.
“Not exactly.”
“But close enough.”
“Maybe.”
She fell silent, tracing the pattern on the seat cushions with a finger, and he wondered what she was thinking about. In the silence, Ally’s stomach growled. Loudly.
She blushed, placing a hand over her stomach. “Excuse me. I haven’t eaten much today—between the morning sickness and, well, everything else that happened.”
He stood. “Then I get the chance to feed you, after all. Let’s go.”
Ally hesitated. “Um, I should probably head home….”
He’d almost forgotten Ally’s overly cautious nature, but even coupled with what she euphemistically called “everything else,” he didn’t realize he’d have to coerce her just to get her to have a meal with him. Of course, she was probably still a bit distrustful of his motives, but they had to get past that if they were going to work anything out. And if he’d learned anything as the captain of Team Wells, it was how to build a crew. Food helped.
“I never did get to take you out for a meal before, so I think I’m due. You need to eat, the baby needs to eat, and I haven’t had lunch, either.”
Her brow started to furrow again, but she seemed to catch it in time and shrugged instead. “You’re right. Food would be good. Just not Mexican.”
He jumped to the ground as Ally carefully descended the ladder propped against the Circe’s hull. Reaching up, he grasped her waist to guide her down the rungs and felt a tremor run through her. Like an electrical current, it vibrated through his fingers and shot through his veins, and he was loath to let her go when her feet finally touched ground.
Ally didn’t turn around, and his fingers tightened on her as the heat of her skin seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. He remembered the feeling. Obviously so did she.
With her back to him, those wild curls tickled his face, the fresh citrus smell of her filling his nose and warming his blood. Experimentally, he moved his thumbs in small circles and another shiver shook her. Only inches separated them. If she’d just lean back a little…
Voices filled the room, chasing the silence away as the men returned from lunch, and Ally stepped away.
As she faced him, he noted the flags of color on her cheeks and the way her teeth worried her lower lip. Ally might be angry with him or wary of him or any other number of things, but she wasn’t immune to him.
Satisfied with that knowledge for the moment, he allowed her the space she seemed to need to get herself back under control.
“I think—I mean we…Um, I, uh, guess…” She blew out a deep breath and brushed her hair away from her face. “Let’s just go, okay?”
She turned on her heel and took two steps in the direction of the door before she stopped. The Dagny was right in front of her, and she looked at it carefully, her eyes tracing over the rigging before returning to the three hulls of the trimaran. Her mouth twisted briefly and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, before she set her shoulders and turned back to him.
Her smile—a real one, this time—snared him. “Are you coming? I’m hungry.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_eb585f98-66cd-52da-b6d1-310ce593210b)
“AND AFTER THAT, everything went fine. We had a nice lunch, and I came home.” She’d been too tired to do much more than send a quick text to Molly last night, so Ally brought her up to speed on the revelations of yesterday while they tackled the much overdue and mindless chore of filing.
“You certainly seem in better spirits this morning.”
“My breakfast stayed down, so that was a nice way to start the day.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” Ally grinned. “But it’s still good news, right?”
“You just seem to be in a really good mood for someone who still has the threat of a massive, ugly legal battle looming over her.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Obviously not.”
“Dagny.”
“It’s a boat. It’s what the man does for a living. I don’t see the connection.”
“Okay, pay attention. Chris got all upset over the news of the baby, then I escalate that by handling the situation badly, too. Like any man, he had to fight back.”
“And he used the big guns.”
“The biggest. But right now, this is still fresh news for Chris. That will fade. At this very moment, even with impending fatherhood on the horizon, he’s still planning on going off on this around-the-world race thing. We talked about it a lot yesterday, and he’s bordering on obsessed with it. That, and rehabbing the Circe. After that, there’ll be another race and another boat vying for his attention. He’ll lose interest in me and the baby soon enough—between the distance and everything he has to do for this race, we’re not going to be high on his radar—and by the time the baby gets here, Chris will have figured out that he doesn’t want to be tied down with a child.” Ally closed the file drawer with a satisfying bang. “He’ll have moved on. Maybe we’ll work out some kind of settlement to salve his conscience or some visitation plans or something, but I guarantee he’ll tire of this baby stuff soon enough.”
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“Molls, racing is everything to him. He only works in the shipyard to make his grandfather happy. Wandering feet and an adventurous soul don’t exactly equal Father of the Year. Look at my brother. Diane’s been slow coming around to this simple fact, but even she’s starting to realize that Steven will never marry her and settle down.” Hungry again, she dug in her desk drawer and found an apple. Biting into it, she savored the taste and the lack of roiling nausea. “Nope, all I have to do is just bide my time and ride this out and Kiddo and I will be fine.”
Molly’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that. Oh, and by the way, the Kriss brothers are coming by Monday to work up an estimate on your new office.”
“Excellent.” And she meant it. After the upheaval of this week, she was finally feeling as if she had things back under control. TGIF indeed. She had about a thousand things she needed to do today. She’d been next to worthless most of the week, and poor Molls hadn’t been able to pick up all of the slack, but her to-do list was manageable, if long, and without continual distractions she’d be able to get caught up and still enjoy the weekend.
But she found it hard to concentrate. The radio played softly, Molly’s keyboard clicked away in the background, and the phones were silent, yet she couldn’t seem to make the columns of numbers on her screen add up properly. After two hours of working on the same account, she’d made little headway, and she closed the file in disgust. She did mundane things instead—balanced her brother’s checkbook, renewed her father’s fishing license—but those simple chores didn’t require much of her attention.
Her e-mail inbox was empty—since Erin had kicked her out of the wedding, she was no longer forced to referee the ongoing battles between her mom and her sister over caterers and flowers—and the lack of family drama felt odd. Maybe that was why she was unable to focus; she wasn’t used to working without constant interruptions.
She’d certainly have plenty of interruptions once Kiddo arrived. The thought made her smile. She should enjoy the peace while it lasted—Erin couldn’t stay mad at her forever, Steven would do something else stupid soon enough, and she’d be back in the mix. Plus, with two new babies in the family…
She shook her head to clear it and reopened the file from earlier. Focus. It took her another hour to find the mistake, and she was relieved to see it was the client’s error, not one caused by her inattention.
When the phone rang, she jumped on the distraction eagerly.
“Hi, Ally.” Her heartbeat accelerated at the sound of that now-familiar baritone, before she reminded herself she didn’t need to panic. She only needed to humor him.
She tried for an upbeat, noncommittal tone. “Hi, Chris. What’s up?”
“I’m done for the day and should be headed that way in another hour or so. Can you be ready by six?”
“Six?” She nearly choked on the word. “Ready for what?”
“Dinner.”
“You want to go to dinner?” Her voice sounded strangled and Molly looked over, eyebrows raised in question.
Chris chuckled, and the sound did strange things to her already confused insides. “I’d heard forgetfulness was a side effect of pregnancy, but really, Ally. I told you I’d call and we’d go to dinner.”
“I didn’t know you meant tonight.” Every other male on the planet waits at least a week before they call—if they call at all.
“Do you have other plans or something?”
Lie. Tell him you’re busy. “Um, well…”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at your place at six. Bye, Ally.”
She was still sputtering her refusal when the line went dead. She placed the phone in its cradle and buried her head in her hands.
“What was that about?”
Ally didn’t bother to look up. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
She heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort from Molly. “So much for staying below the radar.”
“Molls…” Lifting her head, she saw a smirk playing at the corners of Molly’s mouth. “This is not good.”
This is not good was rapidly becoming her mantra. She left work a little early and took a nap, waking up still groggy an hour later. Cold water splashed on her face helped wake her up a bit, but the fatigue still grabbed at the edges of her mind.
Molly’s lecture about the importance of appearing keen on Chris’s ideas—for the time being, at least—echoed in her head as she pulled on a simple skirt and a sleeveless silk shirt. After clipping her unruly hair at the nape of her neck, she tried to add some color to her pale face. Deciding it wasn’t going to get much better, she took one last critical look in the mirror before turning off the bathroom light.
She still had a few minutes before Chris was due to arrive, so she booted up her laptop and took it to the couch. She typed Chris’s name into the search engine, but hesitated over the enter key.
Part of her still didn’t want to know. She’d convinced herself weeks ago that the less she knew about Chris the better off she’d be. But that had backfired in her face. Molly had been more than willing to play research assistant, but Ally had held her off, still undecided about how much she did want to know. Even last night, after she’d returned from Charleston, she’d purposefully left the computer turned off, willing to just ride this out. But now, with Chris headed to her door, seemingly serious about this get-to-know-you game, she had no choice but to learn everything she could about him.
Taking a deep breath she hit Enter, and seconds later Google returned its list.
The impressiveness of Chris’s accomplishments floored her. From his earliest races when he was still in his teens to his most recent win, Chris had racked up an impressive résumé around the world. It didn’t seem to matter where or what kind of boat he raced, he rarely lost, and never finished lower than third place. It seemed Wells Racing had several teams, and while Chris captained their most successful one, he also oversaw the entire racing operation.
OWD Shipyard built a variety of yachts—not just the ones Chris sailed—and their designs were popular all over the world. From what she could find, Chris had his hands in that aspect of the business, as well.
Oh, and here was a mention of Chris meeting with the OWD stockholders in his grandfather’s place. And look, he ran summer camps for inner-city kids to learn sailing, and donated huge chunks of cash to environmental causes.
Good God, when did the man sleep? How on earth had he found the time to go to Tortola and sail the Circe home? Of all the men in the world she could have hooked up with, how had she, of all people, found the one who just happened to be the world’s only zillionaire businessman/champion racer/philanthropist paragon? It boggled the mind.
Remembering their discussion yesterday, she added “world solo record” to her search terms to narrow the results. Google returned very few this time. While several sites speculated Chris would one day attempt to do it—and most likely break the record in the process—none seemed to know that plans were in the works to do just that.
The last link on the page had a very odd headline, and Ally clicked through. The Charleston Gazette must have put all of their archives online because the date on the article was close to twenty years ago. She scanned the first few lines quickly and almost closed the window before the impact of the words sunk in. Carefully, she started over again.
After an intensive nine-day search, rescuers have located the boat of missing sailor Paul Wells floating abandoned ten miles off the coast of Darwin, Australia. Based on the heavy damage to the hull, rescuers believe Wells, who was attempting to break the solo circumnavigation world record, perished in recent storms in the Timor Sea. Wells was a native of Charleston and is survived by his father, Porter Wells, and his eleven-year-old son, Chris.
A rock landed in her stomach. Chris wanted to attempt the same stunt that had killed his father? Was the man insane?
Wait, hadn’t Chris told her before that sailboat racing wasn’t all that dangerous? “It’s hard to kill yourself,” he’d said. She changed her search terms to give her more information about solo circumnavigation, and from the results it seemed it wasn’t all that hard to die after all.
Great. The father of her child had a death wish. Maybe that’s why he was so keen on claiming this baby—he’d have a piece of immortality in case his boat sank in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
That thought made her a little sick.
The doorbell rang and she quickly shut down the laptop before she went to answer it. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she opened the door to Chris.
Who looked so good the air in her lungs came out in a painful rush.
With the sun behind him, he seemed surrounded in a golden glow. A black T-shirt hugged those strong shoulders and skimmed over the planes of his chest before disappearing into the waistband of low-slung faded jeans. He grinned, and her heart melted a little as her senses sprang to life. This was the Chris she’d flipped for, and her body definitely remembered him. He leaned in to give her an innocent peck on the cheek in greeting, but even that brief touch of his mouth burned her.
“Come on in.” Ally stepped back to allow him to pass as she tried to compose herself. How different this time was from Monday when he’d been here, so angry the air around him had nearly burned from the heat. Today he seemed comfortable, almost relaxed.
Well, at least one of them should be, and it wasn’t shaping up to be her. With a sigh, she closed the door behind him.
“You look great, Ally. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Amazingly enough, she was, but she would’ve lied if necessary. Her living room usually seemed open and spacious, but Chris seemed to fill it completely, making her overly aware of him and creating an uncomfortable feeling of intimacy.
“Then let’s go.” Chris reached for her hand, and the touch of his hand sent a shiver through her. Yesterday she’d chalked up her immediate physical reaction to his touch as a simple aberration—something to do with all of those pregnancy hormones sweeping through her—but the repeat of the sensation today underscored her need to keep him at arm’s length.
Literally.
But he made that extremely difficult to accomplish. He kept touching her—to help her out of the car, to guide her as they walked, to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear—and her nerves were a complete jangle by the time they reached the restaurant on the riverfront.
Chris made small talk, and although her mind kept wandering to deeper places, she managed to keep up her end of the conversation. At the restaurant Chris sat opposite her, and finally she had enough distance to begin to incrementally relax.
A drink would have helped, but when Chris waved away the wine list, she remembered it would be a long while before alcohol touched her lips again. She’d have to find her courage outside of a bottle.
“I brought you a present.” Chris slid a small black box across the table.
Jewelry. Jewelry came in boxes like that. “That’s really not necessary.” She scooted the box back to his side of the table.
“Yes, it is. It’s what men do when they’re trying to impress a lady.”
She thought about Gerry and muttered, “Not the men that I know.”
“Then you know a sorry class of men. No wonder you dumped your ex.”
She looked up sharply to see if he was teasing. The look on his face didn’t help her any there. “The fact he was sleeping with someone else had a lot to do with it.”
Chris nodded sagely. “Then he wasn’t only sorry, he was stupid, as well. I don’t know what you ever saw in him.”
That comment brought a laugh and suddenly the wariness lifted. “Me, neither.”
He pushed the box back to her. “Then open your present.”
Sliding off the red and white ribbon, Ally pulled the lid off carefully. Inside, nestled against black velvet, she found a circular gold disk attached to a delicate chain. Holding the disk to the light, she could see the design: two lions rampant, flanking a pillar.
“It’s beautiful.” From the twitch of his lips, she realized she was missing something. “Okay then, tell me what it means.”
“I thought you said you were a mythology geek. It’s the symbol of Rhea.”
Rhea, mother of the Titans, the goddess of female fertility and motherhood. Rather appropriate, considering. “Of course. Those are the lions that pull her chariot.” She ran her thumb over the design. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Before she realized it, Chris was behind her, seemingly uncaring of the curious stares of the other patrons as he took the necklace from her fingers and placed it around her neck. The disk settled perfectly in the hollow between her breasts. His fingers brushed lightly against her nape as he fastened the clasp. The touch was gone as quickly as it had come, and Chris returned to his seat.
His eyes moved over her like a caress. “It suits you.”
The words and appreciative stare caused her face to heat, and she was very thankful for the dim lighting in the restaurant and the well-timed arrival of their server with their food.
As they ate, the conversation moved easily through current events, how she was feeling, and the book she was reading before Chris casually mentioned something about the Dagny that gave her the opening she needed.
She tried to keep her tone light. “It’s a really ambitious goal, but isn’t sailing around the world by yourself a bit dangerous?”
Chris set his drink down slowly and looked at her strangely. A moment later he nodded in understanding. “You’ve been doing some research. It was an accident. It’s not likely to happen again.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“That my father died doing the same thing?” he provided for her.
“Exactly.” She pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry any longer.
“Things have changed a lot in the last twenty years, Ally. We’ve come long way. GPS systems, automatic emergency beacons, satellite communication, improved ship design—it’s very unlikely anything catastrophic will happen.”
He sounded so calm and sure about it. She wanted to smack some sense into him. “But from what I’ve read, there’s at least a thousand easy ways to die out there.”
“Concerned, Ally? I’m flattered. Just yesterday you would’ve been pleased to hear of my possible imminent demise.”
“That’s not funny.” Maybe a little bit true, but still not funny.
Chris shrugged. “Don’t worry, though. Should I be lost at sea or eaten by sharks, you and the baby will still be well taken care of.”
For the first time that day, nausea rolled through her stomach. It must have shown on her face, because Chris leaned forward to take her hand, concern pulling down the corners of his mouth. “Hey, I’m just kidding about the eaten-by-sharks bit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I don’t see how you can treat this so lightly.”
“I’m not. Trust me when I tell you the Dagny is the safest, most well-built ship on the planet, and I don’t plan to take unnecessary risks.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles, soothing her. “I need to do this—not only for me, but for my dad and the company, too. But you don’t need to worry about it. I fully intend to make it home in one piece.”
I’m sure your father had the same intention. She didn’t say the thought aloud. After all, she really didn’t have any business getting involved in his plans. She shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.
The light brush of his thumb increased in pressure until he was practically massaging her fingers. The mood was getting too tense and his touch too familiar. To break it, she mimicked his earlier tone. “Then I’ll just cross my fingers you don’t end up as shark bait.”
“I appreciate that,” he said wryly.
At that tentative understanding, Chris signaled for the check. As he paid, Ally nibbled on her thumbnail and wondered why she cared so much all of a sudden.
Ally had to be the most incomprehensible woman he’d ever met. It could be downright frustrating at times to try to figure her out. The upside, of course, was that she was utterly fascinating. Her moods changed rapidly and without warning, like a squall rising from nowhere, but that unpredictability was part of her allure.
And that allure was becoming increasingly impossible to resist.
He wanted her. Intensely. It didn’t seem to matter whether she was spitting fire in his direction or trying to freeze him out, his body burned for her. From the moment he’d met her on Tortola, she’d been a craving he couldn’t seem to satisfy.
Wanting her had gotten him into this situation, and eventually—in spite of her objections—he and Ally would have to come to a workable solution, even if right now they were in complete disagreement as to what that solution would entail. The idea of marriage had grown on him, but Ally still seemed dead set against that. He’d have to convince her differently. Sex might work in his favor there—after all, he knew she wanted him, too, and it might be just the right angle to work. Logic argued he should take this slow, win her over the old-fashioned way, but logic wasn’t controlling him at the moment.
He wanted her. Pure and simple.
Now, preferably.
Ally kept a careful distance as she walked beside him to the parking lot. If she only knew what was running through his mind…
She seemed lost in thought on the short drive back to her place, occasionally biting a fingernail as she stared out of the window at the darkness. He was still easing the car into a space in front of her house when she had her seat belt unbuckled and her hand on the door.
“Thank you for dinner. And the lovely necklace. I’ll see you—”
Nice try. “I’ll walk you up.”
Ally seemed poised to argue, but she did wait for him to come around and assist her from the car. At the front door, she put her key in the lock and tried again.
“Good night.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chris. Let’s just take this one step at a time. No need to rush things.”
He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her and see her eyes darken. “Who’s rushing?”
Ally stepped back a pace, the door blocking a further retreat. “I’m not stupid, Chris.”
Her hair had escaped its clip again, and he caught the lock that trailed over her shoulder, winding it around his finger. “I never claimed you were.”
Ally stammered as her breathing picked up pace. “We…we…we can’t just pick back up where we left off. Everything is diff-different now.” Even as she spoke, her hand slid gently over his forearm, belying her words. “There’re so many complications…”
“It’s not that complicated at all.” He shivered as her hand worked its way over his chest, coming to rest over his pounding heart. He traced a finger along the stubborn curve of her jaw, and she lifted her chin, putting her mouth only inches from his. “This is pretty simple.”
Ally lifted her eyes from his mouth and met his gaze. The hunger there rocked him. A second later she rose on tiptoe, and the hand on his chest slid to his nape. “I’m probably going to regret this.”
Her lips landing on his blocked his response, and as she fitted her body against him his argument died in the flames that stroked him.
This he remembered all too well. The inferno Ally stoked in him. The feel of her mouth moving hotly under his. The taste of her as his tongue swept inside her mouth to explore. The little moan that vibrated through her as his hands slid over her back and pulled her tightly against him.
The sound of a car passing penetrated the sensual haze Ally wove around him, bringing his attention back to the fact that they were on her porch, providing a show for the neighborhood. He reached behind her, found the key still hanging in the lock and pushed the door open. Ally stumbled backward, pulling him over the threshold, and he was able to kick the door closed with a foot.
In the half-light and privacy of her living room, Ally’s kiss deepened, turning carnal with need. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and over his head, and her hands slid over his skin, causing his muscles to contract at her touch. He worked the buttons of her shirt quickly, and it slithered to the floor.
Ally broke the kiss and stepped back. Even in the dim light, he could see the flush on her chest and the rise and fall of her breasts with each shallow breath. With a long look that scorched him, she reached for his hand and led him down the hall.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_ebbed7f3-e3ba-5574-bc8d-ee2502859468)
YOU’RE CRAZY. SEND HIM HOME. Don’t do this. Her conscience hammered the words at her as she led Chris the short distance down the hallway. Her whole body was alive, though, for the first time since she’d left Tortola, and the electric hum thrumming through her easily outweighed any arguments her brain might want to put forth.
Chris had a pull on her she didn’t quite understand, but now wasn’t the time to try to work it out. The light in his eyes and the promise in his kiss were irresistible, and she really didn’t care about tomorrow’s complications tonight.
It wasn’t as if she could end up pregnant or anything.
Chris traced a finger gently down the line of her spine as she walked, and goose bumps rose on her skin. His hand splayed across her back. Two more steps and they were in her room, the bed beckoning.
He caught her shoulders and pulled her against him. The skin of her back met the hard planes of his chest as he nipped the sensitive skin of her neck. Warm hands smoothed around her waist to massage circles on her stomach before moving up to allow his thumbs to graze tantalizingly over the flesh spilling over the cups of her bra.
Her breasts were more sensitive these days, and the exquisite sensation had her grasping at his thighs for support. Her fingers dug into the denim as he increased the pressure and circled a finger around the hard point of her nipple. Her head fell back against his shoulder, allowing him greater access, and the heat of his breath tickled her ear.
She moaned as he slid her straps off her shoulders, and her breasts were released into his hands. Chris murmured in appreciation as he teased her aching nipples, causing her to writhe against him.
One hand on her stomach held her in place as he moved his hips against her, his erection pressing insistently against the curve of her bottom. The other hand inched her cotton skirt upward to the tops of her thighs, and she hissed as Chris’s fingers slipped beneath the lace edge of her panties and found her.
She exploded almost immediately at his touch, bucking hard against his hand as the orgasm moved endlessly through her. Chris whispered words of erotic encouragement in her ear, fanning the flames, until she sagged against him, her trembling legs no longer able to support her weight.
He turned her then, his mouth moving over hers hungrily, stealing her breath, as he made quick work of her remaining clothes. Ally cursed her numb fingers as she fumbled with his straining zipper, the need to touch him overwhelming. When it finally released, she hooked her hands in his waistband, drawing his clothes downward as she sank to her knees.
Chris’s hands threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp as she took him into her mouth. She heard his sharp hiss of pleasure as she ran her tongue over his hard length, and his fingers tightened.
In two quick moves, Ally found herself between the soft bed and Chris’s hard body, and every erotic dream she’d had in the past six weeks came true as he slid into her and sighed her name.
The husky sound of her name on his lips caused her to open her eyes. While the shadows of the room cast hollows around his features, she could see the intensity in his eyes as he moved against her, pushing her to another release.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she held on, greedy for what he could give her, and when the tremors began, he redoubled his efforts, holding her hips firmly and picking up the pace. She arched as the pleasure turned too intense, only vaguely aware that the sounds she heard came from her as she went over the edge. From a distance, she heard Chris groan as he gathered her close and stiffened, and time seemed to freeze as he held her while the aftershocks moved through them.
Chris’s breathing was harsh in her ears and his heart thumped heavily against her chest. Ally chased after her scattered thoughts, refusing to listen to the small voice in her head saying, This is where you belong.
She’d given in to the sensual pull of Chris, knowing full well it would only complicate their situation further. The intimacy of Chris, in her bed holding her while her heartbeat slowed to normal, unnerved her, but even as she worried, her fingers toyed with the fine hairs at his nape, loving the feel of him against her again.
After one last deep, shuddering sigh, Chris rolled to his back, pulling her with him to pillow her head on his chest. His fingers combed through her tangled curls as she listened to the even thump of his heart.
The silence wasn’t quite a comfortable one, and the longer it stretched out, the more tense Ally became, the wonderful afterglow evaporating as quickly as the moisture on her skin.
Fatigue was catching up with her, fuzzing her brain as she tried to think. Was he planning to stay the night? He certainly didn’t seem in any rush to move. Should she let him stay or usher him to the door? If she let him stay, it would only make things much more difficult later.
Yeah, because I don’t want to get too used to having him around.
“Chris,” she whispered, only to be interrupted by her own jaw-cracking yawn.
Chris’s hand circled on her back until she completed the yawn and tried again. “Shh. Just sleep now. We’ll talk later.”
We should talk now, she told herself, even as her brain latched onto the idea of sleep and the weight pulled on her. But the soothing caress of Chris’s hands was too much to resist, and she started to slip away. But this is really nice, too, her body told her, already relaxing against him.
Just don’t get used to it, she reminded herself.
Ally’s breathing deepened, evening out as she slept, each exhale sliding across his bare chest like a caress. She talked in her sleep, mumbles he couldn’t understand. He tried to pick up a word here and there, but nothing she said made sense.
It would be too easy if, like in a movie, she’d tell me everything I needed to know while she was asleep. Insight into her thought process would help. A lot.
He knew Ally was humoring him, to a certain extent, simply because of the leverage his legal team gave him. He could tell by the wary look she couldn’t quite hide completely. But her response to him tonight hadn’t just been an attempt to play along. Passion had brought down that wall, revealing the Ally he remembered, and at least while she slept, she couldn’t argue with him.
Ally turned over and snuggled her back up against his side. Pushing up onto his elbow, he curved around her, spooning her to his chest. She sighed deeply in response.
Chris smoothed a hand down her arm and over her stomach, stopping at the flat plane beneath her navel.
Their child was right under his hand.
Something primal swept through him—a feeling of possessiveness, a need to protect. Slowly, an inkling of what had driven his father to battle his mother so ferociously dawned on him. It didn’t make what he had done right—far from it—but Chris was starting to understand the sentiment.
He didn’t want to fight Ally. To drag her and their child through the courts until one or all of them were destroyed by the process.
Ally mumbled in her sleep, and it brought a smile to his face. He was making the right decision; he knew that for certain now.
He closed his eyes, his hand still in place, rising and falling slightly with Ally’s breath. As he drifted toward sleep, he realized that, unlike for his father, that primal feeling extended to his child’s mother, too.
Ally woke to the smell of bacon. It didn’t make sense to her groggy brain. Her mom knew better than to drop by early in the morning or without warning, so it must be the neighbors upstairs. Why did they have to be so loud on a Saturday morning…
She rolled over, intending to put a pillow over her head and go back to sleep, but the mess of covers on the other side of the bed reminded her she hadn’t slept alone last night.
That memory caused her to sit up as the details fought for notice: a pair of men’s shoes on the floor by the door; her bra hanging drunkenly off the back of a chair; the noise and aroma coming from her kitchen…
Chris was still here. And he was now cooking breakfast.
She nibbled her thumbnail, unsure how she felt about that. One thing was for sure—she wasn’t going to take the risk of facing him naked with bedhead. She padded quickly to the bathroom, grabbed a robe and did her best to make herself presentable. She came out, still knotting the robe, just as Chris stuck his head around the corner.
“I thought I heard you.” His shirt was a bit wrinkled from a night on the floor, and a dark shadow traced his jaw, but he still looked too good for her equilibrium to handle. Especially when he grinned like that. “Are you hungry?”
After so many weeks of morning sickness, the absence of nausea felt strange. Maybe she was finally getting past it. Thank goodness. She nodded and let Chris lead her into the sunshine-lit kitchen.
She loved her kitchen. She loved to cook. But never in the three years she’d lived here had anyone cooked for her, so the neatly set table for two caught her off guard. It was a very simple breakfast, just bacon, toast and fruit with a cup of tea steaming invitingly on the side.
A lump rose in her throat. Chris had made her breakfast.
She tried to clear the lump. “It smells wonderful. Thank you.”
Chris just grinned at her again as he moved through her kitchen with ease, bringing milk and jam to the table. “I tried to keep it simple, as I wasn’t sure how the whole morning-sickness thing was going.”
“I think I’m getting over it. I’m certainly starving today.”
“Then eat.” He slid several strips of bacon onto her plate before sitting back to sip his coffee. The bacon was extra crispy without being burnt—just the way she liked it.
“You’re a good cook.”
Chris accepted the compliment with a nod of his head. Ally didn’t know what to say next. On the rare mornings Gerry had gotten up anywhere close to breakfast time, he’d read the paper while eating, claiming mornings were too early for civilized conversation. Since he’d moved out, she’d taken up the newspaper habit herself for lack of anyone to talk to. What did people talk about at breakfast?
Chris picked up the conversational ball, but as he asked, “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” she wished for a different topic.
“End of this month. They’ll do the first ultrasound then.”
“I’ll be there. Just e-mail me the time and place.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I want to, Ally.”
She nodded as she buttered her toast. “So when are you heading back to Charleston?”
One eyebrow went up. “Eager to get rid of me?”
Not at all. Where had that come from? Even with the slight awkwardness she felt, she kind of liked having him here, doing something simple and homey like eating breakfast. Don’t get used to it, she reminded herself. “You’re welcome to stay, but surely you have other things to do.”
“I do have to leave in a little bit. I have a club meeting this afternoon.” Much to her surprise, it wasn’t relief she felt at his words. If she was going to be honest with herself, she’d have to call that sinking feeling disappointment.
Chris leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “There’s a race next Saturday—a short one just for fun and bragging rights. Would you like to come?”
Ally chewed her bite of bacon slowly, stalling for time. Chris was trying to include her in his life, and she got the feeling that inviting her to a race was a milestone of sorts. Maybe he really did want this to work out between them. Her chest expanded at the thought, and that raised an even bigger question.
Did she?
She could be her normal, cautious, rational self, or she could be the adventurous Ally she’d discovered on Tortola. Normal Ally said to keep her distance and stay safe; adventurous Ally wanted to take the chance, enjoy whatever came her way for as long as she could.
Good Lord, she was becoming as crazy as her family.
Chris reached over casually to refill her mug, and the simple gesture warmed her, making her feel she was making the right decision. “I’d love to see you race.”
His grin confirmed it.
Her phone rang, disturbing the coziness of the moment. Chris handed her the cordless handset from the counter, and she glanced at the caller ID. She set the phone down and picked up her tea instead. At Chris’s questioning look, she shrugged. “It’s my mom. I knew the silence was too good to last. Let the machine get it.”
A chuckle was his only response, but it was soon drowned out by her mom’s voice.
“Ally, honey, where are you? You haven’t called in days. You can’t still be upset at Erin. I know she hurt your feelings, but it is her wedding, you know.”
Ally rolled her eyes.
“Just be thankful your sister is nothing like mine. Now, lunch has been pushed back to one-thirty tomorrow, and I need you to stop by the store and get the wine. With everything going on today, I just don’t have the time. I swear, your grandmother is going to put me in an early grave…”
Ally walked across the room and turned the volume down on the machine. Chris did not need to hear her mother carrying on about the crisis of the day. “That could take a while. I’ll listen to the rest later.”
“I take it Erin is your sister, but why would you be upset with her?”
Ally tried to think of a tactful way to put it, but came up empty-handed. “She kicked me out of her wedding.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be seven months pregnant at the time.”
Chris frowned. “I know this is your family we’re talking about, but isn’t that…”
“Selfish? Self-centered? Slightly sanctimonious?”
Chris leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”
“Erin’s turned into a Bridezilla over this wedding. I’m kinda glad to have an excuse to be out of the fray.”
“And you’re expected to have lunch with her tomorrow?”
Ally returned to her chair and poked at her fruit. “The Sunday family lunch. Isn’t it a time-honored tradition for every family?” She sighed.
“You don’t sound too keen on that tradition.”
“As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, my family is a little bit nutty. They’re not happy unless they’re driving me insane.” Ally wanted to take the words back the moment they left her mouth. She’d gotten so cozy with Chris this morning, she’d forgotten her need to keep her crazy family under wraps.
“I understand the feeling.”
That got her attention. “Seriously?”
“I can’t sympathize completely because I don’t have siblings, but I do have several cousins. And Pops can be over-the-top sometimes.” The corner of his mouth curved upward. “Families drive everyone insane. It’s just part of the package.”
“Well, my family has a jumbo-size package of crazy going on. It’s almost like they try to outdo each other.”
“Is your mom a good cook?”
Ally nearly choked. “Are you angling for an invite to lunch?”
“I should probably meet them at some point—we are about to be related, after all. Plus, you shouldn’t have to bring the wine since you can’t drink it.”
Related. Chris said it so offhandedly, like it was a foregone conclusion. Technically he was right, but it still sounded like something else entirely. But showing up to a family event with Chris…“I don’t know.”
Chris looked at her oddly. “I take it you haven’t discussed me with them yet.”
“Not exactly. I mean, they know I’m pregnant, but I made it clear the topic of the father was off-limits.”
“That was before. Now that you know I’m going to be around, they should probably get used to the idea.” At her skeptical look, he added, “What, you don’t think they’ll like me?”
“Oh, they’ll like you.” And then I’ll never hear the end of it if this doesn’t work out. On the other hand, she’d never hear the end of it, anyway. She’d held her family at bay for the time being, but eventually…Of course, once Chris met the Bat Crew, he’d probably beat feet back to Charleston, solving a number of her problems right there.
She just wasn’t sure if that’s what she really wanted anymore.
“Then it’s a date.” Chris drained the last of his coffee, and Ally watched in amazement as he grabbed empty plates off the table and efficiently put everything in the dishwasher. She didn’t know people with a Y chromosome could load a dishwasher.
She stood to help, only to be waved away with an “I’ve got it.” The surprises just kept coming from Chris. Domesticity was not something she expected from a golden boy like him.
Chris closed the dishwasher with a snap and came to kneel next to her. “As much as I hate it, I have to go. I’m going to be late as it is.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ally followed him to the door. “That’s an awful lot of driving for one weekend.You don’t have to come tomorrow. It’s okay.”
He was threading his belt through the loops of his jeans and didn’t look up. “The driving is a pain, but it’s not an issue anymore.”
“Oh.” Had he changed his mind in the last two seconds?
“Victor had the tail rotor taken apart this week, but he promised to have the helicopter back in working order sometime today.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Helicopter? You own a helicopter?”
Chris smirked, then hooked a finger under her chin, closing her mouth and turning it up to his at the same time. “Not personally, but the company does. It saves a lot of time.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Bye.”
Ally closed the door and leaned against it. She could hear the powerful motor of his car roar to life, then fade into the distance as he drove away.
Like she didn’t have enough to process. He owned a freaking helicopter, as well. And he’d be flying down tomorrow just to have lunch with her family. Suddenly, the hundred miles between Savannah and Charleston didn’t seem like such a stumbling block.
Just when she’d begun to think she had her feet under her and a plan in place, Chris had pulled the rug out. Bit by bit, he was slowly chipping away at her entire wall of defense.
How this vapid family produced someone like Ally baffled him.
She’d picked him up at the helipad, then spent the entire drive to her mother’s house “preparing” him, saying her family was a bit crazy but generally harmless. He hadn’t said anything in response to her anecdotes, because everyone thought their families were a bit insane or embarrassing.
Instead, he’d been introduced to the most selfish, narcissistic, self-centered people on earth. They were quick to put two and two together and realize he was the father of Ally’s child, but that hadn’t stopped the snide remarks made to Ally about her unwed, pregnant state.Yet no one seemed to make the same comments to Steven or his obviously pregnant girlfriend, Diane.
Ally favored her mother, Hannah, who didn’t look old enough to have three adult children, but the similarities ended there.
Hannah vapidly bounced from topic to topic, complaining about everything from wedding plans to the way Ally wore her hair. Erin, whom he mentally dubbed “princess,” treated Ally to condescension while simultaneously expecting Ally to manage everything. Ally’s brother was a real piece of work, a man-child who was obviously used to the women of his family waiting on him hand and foot. It extended to his girlfriend, as well, who even in an advanced state of pregnancy perched on the edge of her chair waiting to care for his next need. Through it all, Ally’s father wore the look of a man who’d learned it was easier not to interfere while his family swirled around him.
The entire lot disgusted him. Was Ally sure she wasn’t adopted?
After half an hour, he’d been hard-pressed not to drag Ally out of that toxic atmosphere, but she’d given him a pleading look and a whispered “It’s okay. They’ll get it out of their system soon.”
No wonder Ally approached the world with such caution. Her entire family had the emotional maturity of fifteen-year-olds, and no matter what happened, it was Ally’s job to fix it or else take the blame and to soothe ruffled feathers. When her brother handed Ally a checkbook for her to balance, it was almost the last straw. Couldn’t these people handle anything without Ally?
An hour later it hadn’t gotten any better, and Chris’s appetite and patience were long gone. When his phone rang, he went onto the porch to take the call and stayed out there to cool off before facing her family again.
“They’re usually much better behaved in front of company.” Ally spoke from behind him. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart-shaped face was earnest and concerned, and all the light had gone out of her eyes.
He bit back the disparaging remarks. This was Ally’s family, after all, and she obviously cared for them. He wouldn’t score any points with Ally by insulting her family—however well-deserved and correct the observations were. “They’re certainly…” He searched for an adjective.
“Crazy?” Ally provided. “I told you that,” she added with a sigh.
It wasn’t the word he would have chosen, but it would do. “They’re nothing like you, that’s for sure.” He touched a finger to her chin.
“Somebody has to be the grown-up. Can you imagine how they’d function if I weren’t around?” The corner of her mouth tipped up like she thought it was amusing.
“They’re adults,” he said, although it was a loose interpretation of the word. “They can take care of themselves.”
“You’d think.” Ally seemed to ponder that statement as she leaned against the porch railing. “It’s just easier to humor them than it is to deal with the fallout.”
“Let me guess. The reason you left Tortola so unexpectedly wasn’t simply because Steven had been in an accident, but because someone had to come deal with the grown-up stuff.”
Ally inclined her head slightly. “Of course I was worried about Steven, but, yeah, they needed me to deal with the hospital and the insurance companies and such. They don’t deal well with actual emergencies.”
He tried to keep his voice light. “What are they going to do when you’re busy with the baby and not able to drop everything when they call?”
She paused, seeming to think about something, so he let the silence stretch out. “Molly asked me the same thing.”
“Maybe it’s worth thinking about.”
Ally kicked off the railing and started to pace. “Sometimes I get really fed up with them. They’re flighty, they can’t hold down jobs or be responsible about anything. Theylovedmy ex, and looking back, I can totally see why. He was just like them. Happy to just sit back and let me take care of everything.”
Bitterness tinged her voice, and she seemed to be talking to herself now. “Calling me home from my vacation was par for the course. And at the time, I actually thought they’d done me a favor.”
“A favor?”
“After I got over the anger at having my vacation interrupted, I realized that given a few more days, I probably would have latched onto you. Tried to bring you home with me.”
Understanding dawned. “And I’d be just someone else for you to take care of. A beach bum with no job.”
She nodded. “No offense intended. I still toyed with the idea of trying to find you for a little while, but then I turned up pregnant.”
“And you figured the baby would be enough responsibility.”
“God, yes. I just didn’t have any more to give.”
“So doing it alone was your solution?”
“It was easier than trying to figure out how you’d fit into the picture.” She snorted. “Of course, that’s before you showed up and proved you didn’t need me to take care of you, too.”
“That’s because I’m an actual adult—not like them.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house. She winced, then nodded in agreement. “I don’t need a keeper.”
“I know that now. I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.”
He stepped forward and smoothed his hands over her crossed arms. She’d provided him with an opening. “I’d like to help take care of you, you know. You and the baby.”
Ally’s eyes met his, and he could see the confusion there. She really had been flying blind through this. And while the front porch of her parents’ house wasn’t exactly a good place to be having this conversation, he forged ahead.
“We kind of went about this all backward and out of order, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it work.”
Ally inhaled sharply. “You’re talking about getting married, aren’t you?”
He took a deep breath and asked for patience. “Yes, Ally, I’m talking about getting married. But not immediately.”
Her shoulders dropped and she sighed audibly in relief. That irked him a little. “But this game we’re playing—dancing around like there’s a better solution—is crazier than your family.” His voice turned husky. “There’s a lot to build on.” This time when she inhaled, he watched her eyes darken and knew she was also thinking about the night before last. His body hardened in response.
“Chris, I—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger over her lips. “You brought me home to meet your family. You’re carrying my baby. We get along fine—when we’re not antagonizing each other, that is.” Her mouth twisted into a small smile. “I think that’s a good start.”
From inside he heard the noise level increase, then the sound of Erin’s voice. “Ally! We need you in here!”
Ally’s eyes flicked in the direction of the door. He moved closer, until he could feel the warmth that always radiated off her body.
“Forget them for a minute. Hell, forget them altogether. Think about yourself. About the baby.” He pressed a kiss against her lips. “About us.”
“Al-ly!” Erin’s voice took on an impatient whine.
Ally seemed lost in thought for a moment. When her eyes met his again, the spark was back. Her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. “Can you get me out of here?”
Relief—followed quickly by desire—flowed through him. “My pleasure.”
“Get the car. I’ll grab my purse.” Ally raised up on tiptoe to kiss him—a lighthearted, happy kiss like he hadn’t felt since Tortola. She was out of his arms and in the house in a flash.
Whatever she told her family, they weren’t happy to hear it, and she burst back through the screen door to a litany of loud complaints. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the steps and to the car.
He opened the door and she slid in, giving the open-mouthed assembled crowd on the porch a wave as he started the engine.
As the wind picked up speed through her open window, Ally’s hair came loose, flowing around her face as she leaned against the seat back with a happy smile and closed her eyes.
“Where to?”
“My place.”
He floored the pedal.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_5fd9fc5d-0e71-54c2-9c77-dc85cb9f5ee3)
LIFE WAS JUST TOO GOOD to be true. Ally wanted to pinch herself, but she’d be black-and-blue by now if she acted on the impulse every time she thought about it.
After their escape from her mom’s house on Sunday afternoon, she’d spent an unbelievable afternoon in Chris’s arms, taking him back to catch his ride long after sundown. Victor, Chris’s crewmate and pilot, had worn a knowing grin as Chris had given her a goodbye kiss that thrilled her to her toenails, reigniting a spark that should have been sated by then. If Victor hadn’t been waiting, she’d have dragged Chris back to the car for a quickie in the backseat.
The look on Chris’s face said he wouldn’t have objected.
Molly had taken one look at the dopey grin on her face Monday morning, and not a lot of work had been accomplished as she’d insisted on a play-by-play recount of the weekend. When Ally got to the part about Chris and her family, Molly had merely snorted and said, “I like him more and more.”
Her family, on the other hand, wasn’t speaking to her—other than one message from her mother on the answering machine, chiding her for her behavior. The four days of silence had been…well, not quite bliss, but a least a welcome break from the norm.
The scent of stargazer lilies filled the air in her and Molly’s office, and Ally knew she still wore the same dopey smile for the fifth day in a row. It was hard not to; Chris had only managed one quick trip down to see her on Wednesday night for pizza, but he called and sent e-mails—not so many or so often that she felt smothered, but enough to make her feel, well, special. The flowers arriving this morning just intensified that feeling.
She still worried a bit that she wasn’t making the smartest of decisions right now—that the hormones shaking up her normal equilibrium and the heady rush of Chris’s attentions were affecting her judgment—but she wanted to believe she was. Even Molly encouraged it and joked about expanding the business to an office in Charleston.
That was a little further ahead than Ally liked to plan at the moment. Being caught between a dreamlike possibility and a contingency plan wasn’t good for her higher brain functions, but she was hopeful—even if she didn’t say it out loud too often.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and call it quits for the day. Head on up to Charleston and get the weekend started early.” Molly grinned. “You’re not doing me much good here, you know. All that smiling and sighing is getting on my nerves.”
“Can’t. Chris has meetings tonight with sponsors and he has to be at the yacht club early in the morning to prep for the race. I’d just be in the way.”
“I doubt that.”
“Anyway, there’s work to be done here.” She scooted her chair up to the desk, determined to actually work now. “I’ll try to keep the mooning to a minimum.”
“Yes, please do try.” Molly shot her a mocking smile before turning her attention back to her own keyboard.
The concentration lasted for only a few minutes before her cell phone rang. Chris’s ringtone—he’d downloaded it himself on Wednesday night while they’d eaten pizza on the floor of her living room. She glanced up at Molly as she answered and saw her eyes roll.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. Any chance you can sneak out early today and come on up?”
“Molly just asked me the same thing. I thought you were busy tonight.”
“Technically, I am. But I’ll make time for you.”
A warm glow settled in her stomach, followed quickly by that need to pinch herself again. Molly waved for her attention from her desk, and when Ally made eye contact, Molly mouthed the word, “Go.”
“I guess I can get away.”
“I’ll send Victor down to get you. What time?”
The thought of flying in that tiny helicopter made her feel queasy—as if the morning sickness was coming back. “I’ll just drive, if that’s okay.”
Chris made an exasperated sound.
“One step at a time. We’re not all daredevils like you.”
“It’d be easier my way, though. Faster, too. Plus, you don’t know where you’re going.”
“I’ll get a map.”
Thankfully, Chris didn’t push and instead agreed to e-mail directions to her. She told him she’d call when she was on the road, hung up and started shutting down her computer.
“I’ll make this up to you, Molls,” she promised as she headed toward the door, mentally reviewing her packing list as she walked.
“Like you’ll ever have the time.” Molly waved goodbye. “Drive carefully and I’ll see you Monday.”
Molly’s parting words bothered her as she threw her clothes and toiletries in a bag, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.
She finally shrugged it off as yet another side effect of pregnancy brain—right up there with her new case of forgetful-ness—and simply enjoyed the drive up to Charleston, singing along with the radio.
It wasn’t until late that night, as Chris curled around her in bed, his hand absently stroking across her stomach as he dozed, that she realized what Molly’s words meant.
No matter what happened with Chris, things would never go back to “normal.”
The man was an absolute god. Neptune, Poseidon and Chris Wells. Mercy.
Ally’s eye hurt from peering through the telescope for so long, but she couldn’t pull away from the sight of Chris, two miles out at sea and rounding the second buoy.
She’d known the water was his element, but a simple day sail on a borrowed catamaran hadn’t prepared her for this. Watching Chris skipper his seven-man crew…damn.
Although the water was choppy, sending up spray as the boats moved through the waves, Chris stood sure-footed at the helm, moving in perfect harmony with the boat—as though it was an extension of his body instead of an inanimate object. The wind whipped through his hair and fluttered the sails. When he shouted an order across the decks, men scrambled. Then Chris was working the winch, drawing her attention to the movement of back and arm muscles outlined under the shirt the wind nicely plastered to his skin. Her mouth went dry.
“Taylor’s hoisted a flag.” The words came from beside her, and Ally snapped her attention to the man who’d been her tutor for the day. Carl Michman held the impressive title of vice-commodore of the racing association, but as far as Ally could tell, his main job today seemed to be to keep an eye on her and explain what was going on.
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Heidi Rice
Natalie Anderson
Kimberly Lang
Magnate's Mistress… Accidentally Pregnant!Ally Smith may have dumped a cheating fiancé, but she refuses to miss her Caribbean honeymoon! One night with sexy stranger Chris Wells is the perfect heartbreak cure – until she finds out she’s pregnant with the billionaire’s baby!Hot Boss, Boardroom MistressWhen self-made millionaire Jared James set out to bed Amanda Winchester, it was payback for rejecting him all those years ago. But, when the tycoon discovers that he’s taken Amanda’s virginity, he can’t resist going back for more…The Good, the Bad and the WildScriptwriter Nick Delisantro is famed for his ruthless charm, but innocent researcher Eva leaves him speechless! He’s sure just one night will get her out of his system. But he’s underestimated how addictive it is to send a good girl wild.
One Wild Night
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant!
Kimberly Lang
Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress
Natalie Anderson
The Good, the Bad and the Wild
Heidi Rice
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Table of Contents
Cover (#ubb2ecff2-d7fb-5dd7-872b-150f62194ddf)
Title Page (#u05631485-4481-5833-9ca1-73966b56b304)
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant! (#u4dba52ee-7903-5197-97ae-6be7cdcd3229)
About the Author (#uaf4791a7-94a3-5ff4-90ca-7b36a1faf5f2)
Dedication (#u14a7e2b7-3893-580c-8c09-27a154651c5f)
CHAPTER ONE (#ub3369cc5-e8b4-50bd-827b-305b1f95fdcf)
CHAPTER TWO (#u903cffe1-6791-5c24-a2dd-7613e4467fef)
CHAPTER THREE (#uc7308733-8c62-5541-98f0-ececedf8bf9a)
CHAPTER FOUR (#u7b05b6ad-f320-545a-b7cc-f1eebad8bbd5)
CHAPTER FIVE (#u493332a4-efee-5596-9b26-01ed3bfcd622)
CHAPTER SIX (#u0817894d-a295-5267-a5fb-2446162bc077)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#u704b19a6-a458-50bb-a4fb-e589ca193755)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#u06d062e4-cdfa-5d87-83f2-d7da50475dca)
CHAPTER NINE (#uc0f15ee4-9781-5b82-810d-7e6dc77bacc6)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Hot Boss, Boardroom Mistress (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
The Good, the Bad and the Wild (#litres_trial_promo)
About the Author (#litres_trial_promo)
Dedication (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWO (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THREE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
Magnate’s Mistress…Accidentally Pregnant! (#ulink_88cfac4f-867d-5ef6-bac9-8ad0ce1fb911)
KIMBERLY LANG hid romance novels behind her textbooks in secondary school, and even a Master’s programme in English couldn’t break her obsession with dashing heroes and happily ever after. A ballet dancer turned English teacher, Kimberly married an electrical engineer and turned her life into an ongoing episode of When Dilbert Met Frasier. She and her Darling Geek live in beautiful North Alabama with their one Amazing Child—who, unfortunately, shows an aptitude for sports. Visit Kimberly at www.booksbykimberly.com (http://www.booksbykimberly.com) for the latest news—and don’t forget to say hi while you’re there!
To my beautiful, clever, and all-around Amazing Child—although it will be many years before you are old enough to read this book (thirty, at least, if your father has any say in the matter), let me remind you that tonight, at dinner, you told me you wanted to be a romance writer like me when you grew up because it was ‘cool’. You know what? I think you’re cool, too, and you can be anything you want to be when you grow up—well, except maybe a flamingo.
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_bbcb94ec-ba2a-51e3-901a-3a6b476af87f)
NOTE TO SELF: never prepay your honeymoon.
Ally Smith sat on the beach under a tattered umbrella nursing her watered-down piña colada and wondered why that caveat didn’t make it into any of the wedding planning books. Probably because no one plans a wedding with escape clauses.
She should write her own book for brides-to-be. She’d definitely include a chapter on cancellation clauses, the folly of prepayments and how to mitigate the financial toll of lost deposits. Oh, and some fun stuff like how to build a nifty bonfire with three hundred monogrammed cocktail napkins.
And a chapter on how to know you’re marrying the wrong guy.
She dug her toes into the warm sand and watched the sailboats bobbing on the waves as they made their way into and out of the marina just down the beach. Why hadn’t she pushed harder for the trip to Australia where she could at least be snow skiing right now? June in Oz was supposed to be fabulous. Why had she let Gerry talk her into this when they lived just twenty minutes from the Georgia coast—a popular honeymoon destination in and of itself? She could go to the beach anytime she wanted. She didn’t have to fly to the Caribbean for sand and surf.
Because I was too happy to finally be engaged.
In the four months since she’d happened home at lunchtime to find Gerry having a nooner with their travel agent—which explained why he’d insisted they use her to begin with, and probably also why Ally was booked into the worst hotel on the island—she’d come to realize some hard truths: she’d picked good looks and charm over substance, and she should have dumped Gerry-the-sorry-bastard four years ago.
Now, two days into her “honeymoon,” she was bored out of her mind.
“Is this seat taken, pretty lady?”
The low, gruff voice pulled her out of her reverie. Shading her eyes from the late-afternoon sun, she turned to find the source of the question.
And nearly spit out her drink as she ended up eye level with the smallest swimming trunks ever made, straining over a body they were never designed to grace.
In any decent movie, the voice would have belonged to a handsome tennis pro with a tan and bulging biceps. This was her life, though, so while her admirer did sport a tan, his body bulged in all the wrong places—like over the waistband of his Speedo. Ally bit her lip as her eyes moved upward, past the gold chain tangling in his furry chest hair to the three-day salt-and-pepper stubble, the ridiculous iridescent blue wraparound sunglasses and wide-brimmed Panama hat.
She was being hit on by a bad cliché. This horrible vacation experience was now complete. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You look like you could use some company. How about we have a drink and get to know each other?” Without waiting for her response, the man lowered himself into the adjacent lounge chair, took off his sunglasses and stuck out his hand. “Fred Alexander.”
With no excuse to deny the tenets of her proper Southern upbringing, she shook the proffered hand. The palm was damp. He held her hand a bit too long, and she fought the urge to wipe it on her towel once released. “I’m Ally. It’s nice to meet you, but—”
“A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be sitting out here alone. No telling who might come along to bother you.” He winked at her.
Yeah, no telling. There were plenty of people on the beach. Why had Fred picked her to hit on? Because you are a loser magnet. First Gerry and now this guy. At least Gerry had been good-looking, a fact he’d never let her forget.
She had to escape. She should have just stayed in Savannah. Oh, but no, she’d been steamed over the loss of so many other down payments that she wasn’t going to let a vacation go to waste, too. It had sounded so practical at the time. She knew better now.
“I was just about to go in, actually. I think I’m getting too much sun.” She reached for her bag and slid to the edge of her seat, ready to beat a hasty retreat. Fred placed his hand on her wrist and stroked his thumb over the skin. Ally gently moved away from his hand and out of arm’s reach as she stood.
“I’d be happy to rub some lotion on you.” Fred’s eyes roamed slowly down her body and back up to her cleavage, making her skin crawl. With a slow shake of his head, he said, “That’s a crime, Ally. A girl with a body like yours should be showing it off in a bikini.” She’d never been so glad to be wearing a one-piece in her entire life, and as he licked his lips in appreciation, Ally felt as if she needed a hot shower.
“Thanks, but no. I’m—”
“Dinner, then. I saw you checking in alone yesterday and figured you’d be looking for some company.”
Ugh. She took another step back. “Um, well, I…”
“I’m staying here, too. Suite sixteen. It must be fate that we’re both here on our own…”
It was in her nature to make people happy, but this crossed the line. There was “nice” and then there was “stupid.” She’d made enough stupid decisions—no more.
“Enjoy the beach.” She could hear Fred muttering something about her attitude as she left. Whatever. What little enjoyment she’d had just relaxing to the sounds of the surf evaporated in the wake of being hit on by some creepy guy old enough to be her father.
Maybe the TV in her room had a movie channel. She could take that shower, order room service for dinner—if they even did room service in this hotel; she hadn’t seen a menu when she’d checked in last night—and plan to do some sightseeing on the island tomorrow.
This was the most pathetic vacation ever. Or was she the pathetic one?
The lobby was mostly empty as she waited behind a couple checking in. More honeymooners. The young woman carried a bouquet, and the red-haired man at her side was having a hard time checking in since he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off his new bride. They seemed happy, and Ally silently wished them well as they headed for their room.
“I’d like to see about ordering room service to suite twenty-six.”
The hotel clerk shook his head. “Sorry. No room service. Just the restaurant.”
Lovely. She thought she’d hit her low spot on this vacation with the arrival of Fred, but obviously there was much more awaiting her over the next few days. Like eating every meal alone.
“But I do have a message for you, Mrs. Hogsten.”
“Miss Smith,” she corrected automatically. Another good reason not to marry Gerry. She’d never liked the sound of his last name.
The clerk’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he rechecked his computer screen.
Ally sighed. “I know. It says Hogsten, party of two, but it’s just me. Miss Smith.”
She saw the flash of pity in the man’s eyes as the implications of staying alone in a honeymoon suite registered.
No sense trying to explain she wasn’t the least bit sorry to still be single. “The message?”
He handed her a folded piece of paper. “Enjoy your evening.”
“Thanks.” She flipped it open for a quick peek as she walked back to her room. Her mother’s number.
Good Lord, what now? She’d hadn’t been gone that long, and she’d made sure all of them were squared away before she left.
Kicking the door closed with her foot, she dug in her bag for her cell phone, only to flip it open and remember she didn’t have service here.
The minifridge in her room was well stocked after her trip to the local liquor store last night, and the bottle of Chardonnay called her name. She poured a glass and took a drink before dialing the long string of numbers to call home.
“Oh, honey, it’s so good to hear from you!”
Her mom sounded as though the phone call was a nice surprise, which meant nothing was seriously wrong on the home front. That didn’t mean she was off the hook, though. Ally drained her glass before she spoke. Instead of refilling it, she took the bottle with her over to the bed and sat down. She might need the whole thing. “You asked me to call. Is everything okay?”
“Oh, we’re fine. I guess.”
Ally waited.
“Well, other than the fact your sister is going to put me in an early grave with her dramatics…”
Oh, goody. Ring the bell for Mom versus Erin, round 427. Did she really need to be discussing this long-distance?
Breathe in. Breathe out. How typical. Could her family not function for at least a few days without her there? She’d like to think that if she’d really been on her honeymoon, no one would expect her to deal with this. Who was she kidding? If her family tree were any nuttier, squirrels would start showing up at Thanksgiving dinner. She loved them, but not a one had an ounce of sense.
Maybe she’d been adopted. Switched at birth. Or had she been intentionally placed in this family simply to keep them all from spiraling out of control with their dramatics? It sucked to be the grown-up all the time.
When her mom finally paused for a breath, Ally started her peacekeeping duties. “Mom, it is her wedding—”
“Maybe so, but you’d think she’d understand how important this is.”
It was a wedding, not the trials of Hercules, for goodness’ sake. But it took another half hour for Ally to convince her mom of that, albeit temporarily. She banged her head against the headboard gently in frustration.
“And, Ally, honey, the state sent a notice about the property taxes.”
“I took care of that before I left.”
“So what do I do with the notice?”
“Just set it aside, and I’ll get it when I come home. I’ll double-check with the state to be sure, but I wrote the check along with your other first-of-the-month bills.”
“Oh, then that’s good.”
The small headache her mother always caused after more than twenty minutes throbbed behind her eyes. “Mom, I’m going to go find some dinner now. I’ll see you when I get home, and we’ll sort everything out then.”
“Of course, honey. Have a wonderful time. We’ll talk soon.”
With the phone safely back in its cradle, Ally leaned back against the headboard of the king-size bed and hugged the bottle of wine to her chest. I’m so glad I don’t have cell service here.
Out her bedroom window, she could see the sun setting over the water. Dammit, she was on vacation. Granted, it was the strangest vacation ever, but it was her vacation nonetheless. She was alone in a honeymoon suite, in a place she hadn’t wanted to come to, and staying at a low-end hotel because her travel agent was both spiteful and incompetent. And she’d paid top dollar for this disaster. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, but there were worse places to be. She should make the most of it.
She’d earned a vacation, by God. She’d put up with Gerry for three years longer than she should have in the hopes he’d shape up and be worth the investment of her time and energy. Instead she’d carried him—financially and emotionally—for all that time. Planning and then canceling the wedding had been stressful, and when she added in her family’s constant stream of crises, it was no wonder she’d had a headache for as long as she could remember.
She needed a vacation. She deserved it. She would take advantage of it.
After one last long drink straight from the bottle, Ally reached for the phone again. By the time the desk clerk answered, she had a whole new perspective.
“This is Ally Smith in suite twenty-six. No, not Mrs. Hogsten. Miss Smith. I’d like your help in finding a restaurant that delivers and a masseuse who can come to my room tonight for an hour-long massage. And I need to know where the closest spa is. I’d like to get a facial and a manicure tomorrow. Oh, and I’d really love some fresh flowers in here.”
“She’s a real beauty.”
Chris Wells nodded, even if he didn’t fully agree. She needed quite a bit of work, but she still held great promise. He’d wanted to have a closer look before he’d know if the problems were just cosmetic or if they ran deeper.
“She’s fast, too,” the man continued, pride evident in his voice, “but responsive and easy to handle.”
“Her reputation certainly precedes her.” Chris stepped onto the weathered wooden deck. At just over forty feet, the yacht was compact, yet elegant in design. Sadly, though, she had suffered from too many years of poor mainte-nance—the cleats were spotted with rust, the leather cover of the tiller was cracked and peeling. Twenty-five years ago, he’d watched his father skipper the Circe to her first win, and he’d known then that he’d race one day, too. In a way, he owed much of his career to the boat rocking gently under his feet.
The Circe was long retired, her heavy wooden hull no match for the newer, lighter racing yachts made of aluminum or fiberglass. But he wasn’t here to buy a new racer—he was here to buy a piece of history and make her into a queen.
His crew had called him crazy when he’d told them he was taking time off to go to Tortola to see Circe, but Jack and Derrick would come around eventually. And he wouldn’t trust anyone but them to refit her properly.
“Is she seaworthy? Any reason why she wouldn’t make it home?”
Ricardo, the boat’s current owner, smiled, obviously pleased with Chris’s interest. “A few minor things you might want to look at…”
Chris listened to Ricardo’s list with half an ear as he fished his cell phone out of his pocket and called home. “Jack. Send Victor and Mickey down here on the next flight. She needs a little work, but I should be ready to start for home by the end of the week.”
“So you’re going through with it?”
“Definitely.” He was handing the check to a bug-eyed Ricardo even as he spoke.
“Why don’t you come on home and let the guys bring her back instead?”
Chris took a deep breath as a feeling of rightness filled him. He was meant to own the Circe. “Because she’s mine now.”
“But we need you here. Paperwork is already piling up on your desk. And, if you’re really going to break a record in October, we don’t have time for you to putter around the Caribbean.”
“I have an assistant to handle the paperwork. Grace can call if she needs anything. October is still a long ways off, and the Dagny is ahead of schedule. There’s nothing for me to do but admire your handiwork.”
Jack sighed and muttered something, but Chris didn’t need to hear it. He’d heard it all already. Jack was the world’s most compulsive planner—which was great when it came to planning around-the-world trips and designing new boats, but a bit of a pain any other time.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks. Have Dagny’s sails ready for me when I get home.”
“No dawdling in the Bahamas this time, okay?”
Flipping the phone closed, Chris turned back to Ricardo. “I assume you can get me access to the maintenance shed here.” He was already making a mental list of what he’d need for the long trip back to Charleston; now he just hoped he could find a good outfitter on the island.
Feeling better than he had in weeks—months, probably—Chris grabbed his duffel bag off the dock and tossed it below. Ricardo was already halfway back to the marina office, presumably to cash the fat check in his hand before Chris changed his mind.
But Chris was already unbuttoning his shirt as he headed below to change. He was looking forward to getting to know his new addition.
Whistling, he got to work.
A massage, a mud bath and a mani-pedi had worked wonders on Ally’s outlook. Tortola was definitely growing on her.
After a fabulous morning of being pampered and polished, she returned to her room feeling so relaxed she wasn’t sure how much longer her legs would hold her upright. A short nap and a shower later, her attitude adjustment was almost complete. She just needed to find somewhere to eat—napping through lunch was great for the psyche but left her stomach growling.
The nail tech at the spa had recommended she try the little café next to the marina in order to get a true taste of the local cuisine. It was a short walk, and it gave her the opportunity to appreciate the amazing scenery she’d ignored in her foul mood. Until now.
A smiling teenager led her to a small table overlooking the marina. The same breeze that teased her hair out of its braid also gave her background music as it moved though the rigging of the boats. Sunshine warmed her shoulders, and the fish chowder soothed the grumble in her stomach. By the time she’d finished her second mango daiquiri, she knew she was in paradise.
The bustle of the marina fascinated her. Even though Savannah was close to the coast, she herself wasn’t all that familiar with boats. Here, though, sailing was obviously a serious pastime, and the marina buzzed with activity. Curious, and with nothing else on her afternoon agenda, she went to explore.
There were no gates blocking access to the docks like the few she’d seen at home, so she wandered aimlessly. Boats of every shape and size and type bobbed gently in the water, and everyone greeted her with a wave as she passed.
Tranquility. Miss Lizzie. Lagniappe. The fanciful names painted on the backs of the boats made her smile. Tailwinds. Skylark. The Nauti-Girl made her laugh out loud. Spirit of the Sea. The Lorelei. The Circe.
The Circe was smaller than the boats around it, and while the others were tidy and gleaming, the Circe looked as though she’d seen better days. Planks from her deck were missing and long scrapings marred her paint. A second look, though, showed the scrapes had uniformity to them and a pile of fresh planks was stacked neatly on the dock.
The Circe was getting a face-lift.
“I assure you, it’s for her own good.”
Ally jumped at the voice and the thump of something landing on the dock behind her. She turned and realized Tortola had spectacular scenery indeed.
Holy moly. He couldn’t be real. No mortal man had a chest like that. She blinked, but the image didn’t change. Muscles rippled under bronze skin as he off-loaded the supplies in his arms. His pecs bunched, then flexed as he moved, and Ally felt a bit dizzy. Struggling to regain her equilibrium, she forced her eyes upward to the man’s face.
But it didn’t help to steady her. Sunglasses hid his eyes but not the adorable crinkles that formed as he smiled at her. He wiped his hands over the battered khaki cutoffs hanging low on his hips, then slid the sunglasses up and off his face. Eyes the color of the water surrounding them grabbed her, and she found it hard to breathe.
Real or not, she knew he’d be starring in her late-night X-rated fantasies for years to come.
“Her previous owners neglected her a bit, but she’s going to be beautiful once I’m done with her.”
The slight drawl made her think of home, and something about the pride and determination in his tone tugged at her. “I’m sure she appreciates it.”
“I certainly hope so.” He reached to her right to grab the faded T-shirt hanging on the piling, bringing that bronze skin so close she could smell the sunshine and the musk of clean, male sweat. As he pulled it over his head, she stamped down her disappointment at the loss of the lovely view of his pecs. “I’m Chris Wells.”
“Ally.” She shook the hand he offered. It was warm and strong and slightly calloused, indicating he worked with his hands. The thought of those hands on her…She snapped back to the conversation. “I’m sure she’s enchanting.”
Chris cocked his head, sending a lock of blond-streaked hair over his forehead before he pushed it back. Those highlights were real—he obviously spent a lot of time in the sun.
Ally cleared her throat. “Circe. The enchantress queen from the Odyssey.”
“Yes, I know. I’m just surprised you do. Not too many people know who she is.” He crossed his arms across that unbelievable chest and leaned against the piling.
“I guess I’m a bit of a mythology geek.”
Chris’s eyes traveled appreciatively down her body, leaving her skin tingling in their wake. “I definitely wouldn’t consider you a geek.”
The heat of a blush replaced the tingles, and her brain turned mushy. “She so rarely gets the credit she deserves.”
“She turned Odysseus’s crew into pigs.”
Was that a challenge? “Some might say it wasn’t exactly a stretch.”
“Ouch,” Chris said.
“But she also gave Odysseus the information he needed to find his way home and avoid the Sirens. Odysseus owes Circe one.” Why am I babbling on about this? She needed to quit while she was ahead. Find another topic of conversation before he decides you really are a geek.
But Chris egged her on with another of those smiles. “But they were lovers. That’s what Circe wanted from him.”
Ally laughed and took the opening. Maybe he didn’t think she was babbling. “True, but I think that worked out better for Odysseus than for Circe.”
“Excuse me?”
She looked at him levelly. “Odysseus and Circe have a fling. After which, Circe gives him much-needed information, and he’s gone without a backward glance, leaving her pregnant with triplets. Not so great an ending for Circe.” She shook her head sadly.
“What, no romantic sympathies for his desire to get home to Penelope?” Chris teased.
This was fun. She leaned against the opposite piling and mirrored his crossed arms. “Oh, now Penelope has my sympathy. Odysseus, the original golden boy of ‘all style, no substance,’ goes out adventuring, leaving her at home to weave and take care of the kid. She remains faithful while he starts the tradition of a girl in every port. Odysseus was a player.”
Chris laughed out loud. “You don’t sound like you like Odysseus much.”
“I won’t deny there’s something attractive about him, but smart women don’t fall for that—at least not more than once.”
A blond eyebrow arched upward. “You sound bitter.”
She shrugged. “Let’s just say I know better. If you ask me, Odysseus got much better than he deserved.”
“That’s a different take on a classic.”
In her primmest voice, she said, “Homer was a man. I don’t think he sees it quite the same way a woman would.”
“You have a point, Ally.”
“Maybe.” When he didn’t respond, she was disappointed. Were they done now? Should she move on? She didn’t want to, but Chris did have a major project underway. He hadn’t moved from his lazy pose against the piling, but maybe he was just too polite. She’d wrap it up and let him get back to work. “But you’re doing a good thing, bringing Circe back to her former glory. I’m sure she’ll be lovely.”
“She will be. Right now she’s just a money pit. I can see now why Odysseus left her. Too needy.” He punctuated the statement with a wink.
Feeling better than she had in months, Ally let a giggle escape. “You’re terrible.”
Chris shrugged. “You started it.”
“Well, I stand by my earlier statement, regardless. Your Circe deserves the face-lift. I’m sure she’ll be a beautiful, enchanting ship when you’re done.”
“Yacht.”
“Pardon me?”
“She’s a yacht. Not a ship.”
“Really? There’s a difference?”
“Definitely.” Chris levered himself back to his feet. “Ships are those big ones that move cargo and such. These,” he indicated the boats around them, “are yachts.”
Maybe they weren’t done just yet. He didn’t seem in a hurry to run her off and get back to work. A little spurt of excitement warmed her blood. This trip was getting better by the second…
“Ally! Ally-girl, I thought that was you.”
The voice hit her between the shoulder blades and crawled down her back. I spoke too soon. She knew that creepy, gravelly voice. She turned, and, sure enough, Fred was lumbering down the dock toward her like a duck to a June bug. Why me? Why? I find a hunky guy to talk to and the slimy one has to come and ruin it. It wasn’t fair.
She saw Chris’s eyebrows go up in question as Fred lumbered to a stop beside her. “Ally,” he puffed, “I saw you headed this way. If you’re interested in boats, darlin’, I’d be happy to oblige.”
At least he’s wearing more than he was yesterday. The polo shirt and shorts were an improvement, but that didn’t mitigate the fact he was here ruining her day again.
Fred looked Chris up and down, then glanced dismissively at the Circe. “How about that dinner now? We can let this swabbie get back to work.”
Chris stiffened a bit at the insult, but he didn’t take the bait. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse. Swabbie? How arrogant could one guy be? And how was she going to gracefully extricate herself this time? Short of jumping off the dock and swimming to shore, she was trapped.
She felt, more than saw, Fred reach for her elbow to lead her away. Desperate, she turned to Chris and mouthed, Help.
The corner of Chris’s mouth twitched. Dammit, this wasn’t funny. She didn’t want to be outright rude to Fred, but this needed to be nipped in the bud.
Fine. Rudeness begat rudeness, and this jerk started it. Her conscience could be salved by that, at least, as she took a deep breath and opened her mouth to be intentionally rude for the first time in her life. “Look—”
“Ally,” Chris interrupted smoothly, “I know you’re upset I’ve been spending so much time on the boat, but you don’t need to get even by flirting with another man.”
She let out her breath in a rush at the save, but then gasped as Chris looked at Fred and shrugged. “You know how women are about these things. They get so jealous over the ‘other woman.’”
Her mouth was open to argue with such a sexist statement when she realized Fred was nodding in agreement. She closed it with a snap and accepted the hand Chris held out to her. One quick tug, and she was against his chest with his arms wrapped around her.
And everything else ceased to exist.
The men were talking, but Ally couldn’t hear the exchange. The heat from Chris’s body and the solid wall of muscle surrounding her had her blood pounding in her ears. Closing her eyes, she inhaled, and the summertime smell of him filled her senses. Every nerve ending sprang to life, and she fought against the urge to rub sensually against him but lost. Her breathing turned shallow and her inner thighs clenched. But when Chris dropped a warm kiss on her bare shoulder, lightning raced through her, causing her to arch into him in response.
His arms tightened around her, and she melted into the pressure…
“Ally?”
The whispered question sent chills over her skin as his breath caressed her ear. Her eyelids felt heavy as she attempted to open them.
“He’s gone. You’re safe now.”
The words hit her like cold water. Reality snapped back into focus, and…Oh, no. She felt the hot flush of embarrassment sweep up her chest and neck.
She’d been writhing against him like a stripper against a pole, and her humiliation was now absolute.
This vacation sucked.
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_34782056-bba0-5411-8f97-ba76ce6b18d5)
ALLY WAS A WONDERFUL ARMFUL, but the situation was about to become embarrassing for them both if he didn’t release her. The colorful sundress she wore had concealed the lush curves he could now feel as she fitted perfectly into him like a puzzle piece. Curly dark tendrils of hair that smelled like sunshine and citrus caught the breeze and tickled over his skin. When she’d sighed and moved against him, he’d been unable to resist tasting her.
Her plea for help might have spurred him to reach for her, but in reality it had only provided an excuse to act on the need to touch her that he’d felt the moment she’d lifted her chin and started her defense of Circe. A need that had intensified when that Euro-trash wannabe had tried to stake a claim on her.
But now that he was gone, Chris no longer had a reasonable excuse to continue holding her—beyond his own enjoyment, of course. But that enjoyment was beginning to press insistently against her, and in another moment he was going to take advantage of the situation.
As he gave the all clear, Chris felt her stiffen. Ally extricated herself awkwardly, clearing her throat as a red flush colored her chest and neck.
Maybe I’m not the only one who got a thrill from the contact, he thought.
“I, um, ahem, uh—” Ally paused, closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Thank you for the save. Fred must not have gotten the hint yesterday that I wasn’t interested. Maybe now he’ll find someone else to stalk.”
“My pleasure.” Definitely. He’d never been one for saving the damsel in distress before, but if this was what it was like, he’d reconsider playing Lancelot.
Ally attempted to smooth the loose hair back from her face, then smiled uncomfortably. But she wasn’t beating a fast path off the dock, which was good since he was already hoping he’d have an excuse to touch her again soon.
“Would you like to come aboard? See the Circe up close?”
He was treated to a brilliant smile that lit up her deep brown eyes. “I’d like that a lot. I’ve never been on a boat before. A yacht, I mean.”
“You can call her a boat, just not a ship.”
“Good, because yacht sounds a bit pretentious.” Her cheeky smile was contagious, and he knew he was grinning like an idiot as he stepped onto the deck and held out a hand to help her board.
“I can’t believe you’ve never been on a boat before.”
“Never. Well, unless you want to count a canoe at camp one summer.”
He’d spent his entire life on, in or around boats. Sailboats, speedboats, rowboats, tugboats—if it went on the water, he’d built it, raced it or at least crewed it. He’d never met anyone who hadn’t even seen one up close before.
Ally seemed to be taking the inspection seriously, as she asked questions about the sails and the cleats and how it all worked. As she trailed a hand along the tiller, his blood stirred, wanting that hand to caress him instead.
He cleared his throat. “She was designed to race, so she’s lean. No frills to weigh her down.”
“Is that what you’re going to do? Fix her up and race her?”
“No, I can’t race her. Her hull is too heavy to compete with what’s out there now.”
Ally looked at him. “But you do race, right? Or you’re wanting to?”
Was she serious? A look at Ally’s heart-shaped face told him she was. She honestly had no idea. How long had it been since he’d had a conversation with someone who didn’t know who he was? Wells Racing and the OWD Shipyard really had consumed his life—to the extent that it had probably been at least five years since he’d met anyone who wasn’t as obsessed as he was. Maybe more like ten. And while part of him wanted to impress Ally with his list of credentials, he held it at bay. It was nice to be incognito for once.
“I race…among other things.” It wasn’t a lie. Pops still kept his command in the offices of the OWD Shipyard—in name at least—but Chris found more and more of the day-to-day business crossing his desk these days. He juggled a lot, but Wells Racing was still his main focus.
Ally grinned at him. “But do you ever win?”
He laughed before he caught himself. “Occasionally.”
“Is it dangerous?” She didn’t meet his eyes as she asked that, but the too-casual way she poked at the deck line belied her interest.
“Not really. You can get hurt, don’t underestimate that, but it’s pretty hard to kill yourself.”
Her shoulders dropped in relief. “That’s good. My brother races dirt bikes for fun. It’s pretty easy to kill yourself doing that.” Ally poked her head into the hatch. “Not a lot down there.”
“Like I said, she’s built for racing. Bare necessities only.” He liked watching her explore the Circe. As the breeze molded her dress to her curves, he realized he liked watching her, period. The erection he’d only recently got back under control stirred to life again.
Ally sat on the edge of the cockpit and ran her hands over the smooth planks of the deck. “This is neat. Thank you for showing me.”
Unable to resist, he sat next to her. Possibly a little closer than was called for, but Ally didn’t move away. “Neat?”
“Yes, neat. I like to learn new things.” She looked sideways at him and shrugged. “In fact, I’ve decided that this vacation is going to be all about new things. I came by myself, which was definitely a first. I’ve—”
“You came on a Caribbean vacation by yourself?” Even though she’d been wandering the dock alone, he assumed she had friends or family somewhere on the island.
“It’s a long story, but, yes.”
He started to ask another question but she cut him off.
“Seriously, it’s a long, boring story. But I’m here now, and I’m making the most of it. I’ve tried new foods, let the spa spread mud all over me, and now I’ve been on a boat for the first time. I’d say I’m off to a good start.”
He was still reeling at the mental image of Ally nude while mud was painted sensuously across her breasts. He cleared his throat. “You’re quite the adventurer.”
She beamed, her brown eyes lighting up. “I wouldn’t go that far. But I am taking baby steps.” Ally closed her eyes and leaned back to enjoy the sun. It was an artlessly erotic pose—back arched, breasts thrust temptingly toward him, the gentle curve of her neck exposed. “This is wonderful. The wind and the water are very relaxing.”
He was anything but relaxed. “Would you like to go out?” he blurted.
Ally sat up and opened her eyes, the shock readily apparent. “I’m sorry, what?”
Well, that hadn’t been his smoothest move. He cleared his throat. “Sailing. Would you like to go out sailing tomorrow?”
“Oh, I don’t know…”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
“I’ve never—”
“I thought you were being adventurous on your vacation.”
Ally shifted uncomfortably. “There’s adventurous and then there’s the fact that I’m not a very good swimmer.”
“The chances of you going overboard are pretty slim unless you jump.”
Ally looked over the mess he’d made of the Circe, a wary look in her eye. “But—”
He followed her gaze and laughed. “Not on the Circe. She’s not up for company yet. I’ll borrow a little cat or something. Start slow.”
Confusion furrowed Ally’s forehead. “A cat?”
“Catamaran. Like the ones you see on the beach down there.”
She looked to where he was pointing and nodded. “It’s kinda big, don’t you think, for my first time? Maybe something smaller, like those over there?” She pointed to some dinghies tied up at the dock.
“Ah, Ally, you don’t want to start too small. You want to get the full experience.” He dropped his voice and teased, “Bigger really is better, you know. It’s not the same sensation at all.”
She caught her lip in her teeth, the picture of indecision. “Um…”
“We’ll take it really slow and give you some time to get comfortable. We won’t go very far until you’re sure you’re ready. Just nice and easy.” He stroked her arm and gooseflesh rose under his fingers. “We won’t go too fast, I promise—unless you decide you want to, of course. And I think you will once you get into it. Otherwise, you can relax and let me do all the work while you just enjoy yourself.”
Ally’s eyes were wide and dark as she exhaled gently. “Are we still talking about sailing?”
Who cares about sailing? He stopped and gave himself a strong mental shake. “Of course. Well? Are you game?” He could see the indecision in her eyes. She wanted to go, but something was holding her back. “Are you afraid? Of the water?”
She hesitated as she looked away. “No. Not afraid, just not any good—I mean, I’m not a good swimmer.”
“Do you trust me?”
One eyebrow went up. “I’ve known you for less than an hour. No, I don’t trust you.”
Ally was a breath of fresh air—and honest to a fault. “I’m hurt,” he teased.
Looking sideways at him, she amended her statement. “But I don’t distrust you, either.”
That easy smile was really starting to work on him. “It’s a start.”
“And you did save me from Fred.”
“Very true. Surely that merits something.”
“If you were a Boy Scout, maybe a badge of some sort.” She bit her lip again, sending a jolt through him. “But I don’t think you’re a Boy Scout.”
“You do know how to wound a man. I may not be a Boy Scout, but I am a good sailor. You needn’t have any worries about surviving the experience. I’ll bet you’ll even enjoy it, despite your reservations.”
She didn’t pick up the gauntlet, but she was coming around. “How about the medium-size one? I can work my way up from there.”
“How about dinner instead? If you still want to start small after that, then I’ll get the dinghy. But I think you’ll come to see the benefits of not setting your sights too low.”
Confusion crinkled her forehead, and it took all he had not to reach for her and drag her below, but there was nothing below but a couple of narrow bunks, completely useless for what he had in mind. “Dinner?” she asked.
He feigned shock. “Of course. You don’t expect me to go sailing with a woman I barely know, do you?”
Ally laughed and nudged him with an elbow. “I don’t know what to expect from you.”
“Just a good time, that much I can assure you.” For us both.
“Then it’s a deal.” Ally stuck out her hand, but instead of shaking it, he squeezed it gently.
Slightly flustered, she stood and brushed at her dress with her free hand. “Should I, um, go change?”
“You look amazing.” She blushed at the simple compliment, and something primal and protective stirred in his stomach. It was an odd feeling. “I, on the other hand, need to shower. You can’t be seen in public with an unwashed swabbie.”
Ally squeezed his hand back as she apologized. “Fred’s a jerk. That comment was uncalled for.”
“I’ve been called worse by better.”
“But still…”
She seemed so earnest in her apology and need to console. “Forget it, Ally.You’re not responsible for the actions of others.”
A shrug was her only response.
“Where are you staying? I’ll come get you around seven.”
“The Cordova Inn. How about I meet you in the lobby?”
He nodded, and steadied her as she stepped onto the dock. The Circe bobbed as she did, and the boat felt a bit empty once she’d left. He was admiring the gentle sway of her hips when she turned and gave a small wave. Another moment and she was around the building and out of sight.
Well, this was an expected turn of events. He’d come to Tortola to get the Circe and found the delicious Ally, as well. His father had called the Circe a lucky boat, and now he had proof. Not that he was ever one to question his luck—he’d learned early on to take advantage of whatever winds came his way.
He went below to get his shaving kit and wished the repairs were further along. Or that he’d at least gotten a proper bed installed. He didn’t mind crashing on the narrow bunks, but the Circe’s cabin was low on creature comforts and not exactly conducive to pastimes other than racing.
That would change, just not soon enough.
Of course, the arrival of Mickey and Victor tomorrow would also put a damper on any on-board activities with Ally. Which reminded him—he still had supplies to stow and he needed to call home.
He’d call and check in with Grace, just to be sure there wasn’t anything too pressing, then he’d call Pops and mollify him over the extended absence.
Thanks to the Circe, the company, the Dagny, and his grandfather were all far away and would remain so for the next few weeks. He stretched, and his fingertips grazed the Circe’s bulkheads. He was a free man. Somewhat free, he amended as his phone alerted him to an incoming text message.
It could wait a while though. Ally was far more interesting than another discussion of the Dagny’s sails or OWD business.
He grabbed his shaving kit and a clean shirt and headed to the marina to shower.
Ally held her composure until she was sure Chris was no longer in sight, then she sagged against the wall of one of the marina buildings. Her legs felt shaky as she let out her breath in a long, unbelieving sigh.
Had that really happened? Had she really just met a real-life Adonis and agreed to…to…She shook herself. Technically, she had only agreed to dinner and a sail, but deep down she was pretty sure she’d agreed to something far more. Chris’s interest went beyond taking her sailing. She wasn’t that naive.
She was, however, completely out of her league. Men like Chris just didn’t appear in her world every day. Men like Chris were the stuff of fantasies. Or movies. They certainly didn’t appear out of nowhere like a dream come true and take an interest in mousy little accountants.
“God, I love this island.”
She wrapped her arms around her stomach and enjoyed the thrill. She had an urge to find that fiancé-banging stupid travel agent and give her a big kiss. Checking her watch, she was amazed to realize dinner wasn’t that far off. She only had a little over an hour to wait, but at the same time, that hour seemed like an eternity. Not that she was interested in food. That feeling in her stomach definitely wasn’t hunger pangs.
Taking a deep breath, she pushed off the wall and found that her legs still weren’t completely stable. Which was appropriate, since she wasn’t sure she was mentally stable at the moment, either. These things just didn’t happen to her. But it had, and she was willing—make that more than willing—to grab this moment and run with it.
She covered the short distance between the marina and the inn in record time and hurried to her room. The light on her phone blinked, indicating she had a message waiting at the front desk, but she ignored it. She wasn’t the least bit interested in her fruity family or whatever crisis they’d concocted for themselves today.
Her wardrobe was limited, as she’d never considered this possibility while packing, and she grimaced at the selection. All of it plain, boring, unexciting—rather like her at times. She wished she had time to go shopping, to find something better, but the clock was ticking. When she got home, she’d do some serious shopping to remedy the sad state of her wardrobe. She did find another sundress that was dressier than the one she had on and wasn’t shaped like a potato sack. It would have to do.
She showered again and took extra time getting ready, wanting to look as good as possible, but her hair wasn’t cooperating. Sighing, she settled for another braid, tucking in the frizzing strands as best she could. At one minute after seven, she took a deep breath and headed for the lobby, half expecting Chris not to show up.
But he did, looking like something out of a magazine in loose linen slacks and button-down shirt with his blond-streaked hair brushed back from his face. That fluttery feeling in her stomach bloomed back to life, followed rapidly by the urge to suggest a quiet dinner in her room.
Chris leaned in to kiss her gently on the cheek, an innocent enough greeting under any other circumstances, but in this case, one that melted her insides and made her knees wobble.
“You look fantastic.”
“Thanks. So do you.” Those blue eyes were going to be the end of her. Seriously. She could stare into them for hours, but when he smiled and they lit…
“Mrs. Hogsten!” The desk clerk approaching her was a wet blanket on her rapidly heating thoughts. She sighed in disgust. Whatever happened to impersonal hotels where none of the employees knew or even cared who you were? She’d love that about now.
“Not Hogsten. Smith. Or even Ally is fine.”
“Of course, my apologies.” At least the pitying look was gone. Instead the desk clerk looked amused as he saw Chris standing so closely beside her. “We have a message for you.”
“Thanks.” She took the piece of paper and glanced at it quickly as the clerk left. “Call home.” Not tonight, she thought, as she stuffed it into her purse. Turning to the far more interesting Chris, she smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Is everything okay?” The concern she saw in his eyes was kind, but she wanted that other light back. The light that said he was interested in her, not what was on a piece of paper in her purse. The one that made her insides turn over and her skin tingle.
“Just my family checking in.”
That other look came back into his eyes, and the butterflies in her stomach fluttered to life. “Good.” Chris took her hand and led her toward the door. “It’s a beautiful evening and the restaurant’s not far. Mind if we walk?”
At the moment she’d gladly walk to hell and back if he’d keep looking at her like she was dessert. Pull yourself together before you jump on him. At least try to act casual about this.
The evening was beautiful and warm, and Ally inhaled the hibiscus-scented air deeply as they walked. This was the stuff books were written about, walking at night on a tropical island hand in hand with a gorgeous man who—
“There seems to be some confusion about your name at the hotel.”
I will not let reality spoil this moment. “Yeah. Well, it’s kind of a—”
“Long story?” Chris finished for her, flashing a smile that made her gooey inside.
“Exactly. And boring to boot. How about you tell me where we’re headed instead?”
“Have you ever had pepper-pot soup?”
She stomped down the urge to skip. “Nope, but it sounds great. Remember, I’m all about new experiences this week. I’m game for pretty much anything.”
Chris stopped walking and pulled her into the shadow of a huge mango tree. Warm hands settled on her shoulders, and Ally forgot to breathe. “Glad to hear it. In fact…”
It was all the warning she got before his mouth touched hers.
His lips were warm and soft and gentle, but she could feel the restraint, the tension in his hands as they moved up to cup her face and his thumbs stroked over her cheekbones. Rising up on tiptoe, she wrapped her arms around him as his tongue touched hers.
And everything changed.
This. This was the kind of kiss myths were built around. Heat and hunger radiated from Chris’s body, warming her blood and making it sing through her veins in answer to the need he stirred in her.
She’d never been kissed like this before, and her world shrank until all that existed was Chris and the feel of him against her and the taste of him on her lips.
A brief jolt of anger moved through her at the thought of all the kisses she’d wasted on Gerry. His lazy, perfunctory, be-happy-you’re-getting-anything kisses had never moved her like this.
Like this, she thought, and banished Gerry from her mind as Chris’s fingers massaged her scalp, and her knees turned to water. Chris caught her weight as she wobbled, fitting her tightly against him, and what little sanity she had left fled at the sensation: scorching kisses along the tender skin of her neck; the play of muscles under her fingers and the thump of his heart against the chest pressed tightly to hers. The bark of the mango tree bit into her back, but she didn’t care.
“Ally,” Chris whispered, the sound slowly filtering through the erotic haze around her, and she shivered at hearing her name on his lips.
She opened her eyes to find him staring intently at her, his fingers still tangled in her hair and his thumbs gently stroking her temples. But there was nothing gentle in the way he looked at her, and the fire burning in those blue eyes sent a shiver deep into her stomach.
Chris shuddered, his breath coming in quick pants like her own. She was glad to see she hadn’t been the only one to be shaken by the power of that kiss. She didn’t have much experience to draw on, but she knew the feeling was mutual. Tightening her fingers on the fabric of his shirt, she pulled him closer, wanting more.
“This isn’t exactly the right place.”
Belatedly, she realized he was right. While not crowded by any stretch of the imagination, there were other people on the street, and several of them were watching the display with interest. She should be mortified, slinking away in embarrassment, but surprisingly she didn’t care in the least.
“And, if you plan on actually having dinner tonight, we should probably stop.” His fingers slid out of her hair, and she could feel the braid hanging drunkenly to one side as he toyed with the loose strands. A rueful smile played on his lips.
Dinner? She didn’t give a tinker’s damn about dinner. The only thing she was hungry for was the man plastered against her like some kind of fantasy in the flesh.
Chris sighed and shifted his weight and Ally tightened her grip to keep him from moving away. For a brief moment indecision nibbled at her. She should let him go. She should go on to dinner. She should act nonchalantly about what just happened. A lifetime’s experience of responsibility and rationality told her to backtrack to the getting-to-know-you steps they’d leapfrogged over with that kiss.
I don’t want to.
The realization shook her to the soles of her plain brown sandals. The sandals were the tipping point. They were practical, boring and suddenly symbolic of her entire existence. She didn’t even have sexy, pretty shoes in her life, much less men like Chris.
Chris.
He hadn’t moved since she’d tightened her hold on him, but she wasn’t sure how long she’d stood there dithering with herself. When she looked up to meet his eyes, she saw the heat and the question there, and her decision became crystal clear.
“I’m not in the least bit hungry, but if you are, I do know a place that delivers to my hotel.”
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_d0c2fda5-d0c7-5614-947c-62a48e48e277)
ALLY SHOULD COME with a warning label attached. Her words came out of nowhere—okay, not exactly nowhere but close enough—to slam into him with a desire that was almost painful. Underneath that artless, wholesome sensuality and cheeky grin was a woman very dangerous to his sanity.
He hadn’t meant for the kiss to get out of hand. He just hadn’t been able to go another moment without tasting her. The sweetness had been expected, but it was the fire that had caused him to lose control of the situation.
Hell, he’d lost what was left of his mind. Ally deserved better than a mauling against a mango tree in full view of a dozen witnesses. She tensed and he dragged his attention back to her face, only to immediately wish he hadn’t. Her eyes were dark and hungry, her lips swollen and moist from his kiss. Public or not, up against a mango tree or not, he didn’t care.
He just needed her hands on him again.
“Food can wait.”
Her breath caught and she reached for his hand as she turned.
Thank God they hadn’t made it very far. Retracing their steps took only a minute, but it seemed like an eternity. Ally’s hands shook as she tried to unlock the door, fumbling the keys.
He took a deep breath to calm himself and took over the task, silently agreeing with Ally’s muttered “Thank goodness” as they were able to close the door behind them.
One lamp glowed beside the very inviting bed, its sheets already turned down by the hotel staff. The window stood open, allowing the quiet evening sounds of the island to drift in.
Ally seemed slightly uncomfortable once they were alone, her movements stiff as she dropped her bag in a chair and reached up to feel the lopsided braid and try to tuck the haphazard strands back in.
Her hands fell to her sides as he reached for the band securing what was left and freed the curls to riot around her tense shoulders.
“You should wear your hair down more often, Ally.” He threaded his hands back through the silkiness, and her shoulders relaxed as his fingers found her scalp.
Eyes closed, Ally’s head lolled back, exposing the lovely line of her throat, and his lips took the invitation. She hummed in pleasure, and the vibration moved through his body as he pulled her close once again.
The contact brought her to life once again, the tension leaving her body as she moved against him. He took a moment to just enjoy the sensation, patient this time to savor it as he knew he’d be able to feel all of her in just a few more minutes.
But Ally’s hands locked around his shoulders as she moved into him, pressing her lips to his in needy hunger, and all of his good intentions to go slow went up in the flames she fanned in his blood.
Ally felt like she was on fire. She needed to touch him. Needed to prove to herself he was real. Needed to feel him against her, in her. And she wanted all of it now.
The buttons on Chris’s shirt gave way easily, and the chest she’d admired earlier in the day was hers to explore. Her fingers traced the ridges of muscle, and when she retraced her path with her tongue, Chris sucked in his breath in pleasure as his hands tightened in her hair.
A boldness she didn’t know she possessed surfaced and she reached for the waistband of his pants. Chris’s stomach contracted at her touch, giving her room to release the button and slide the zipper over the bulge, causing her thighs to clench in anticipation.
“My turn.” Chris stopped her hands and lifted them over her head before he grabbed the cotton sundress and tugged it off in one smooth movement.
For one brief moment, she felt exposed and uncomfortable, but that feeling was soon chased away as Chris tumbled her to the bed. An acre of bronze skin loomed before the hot weight of him covered her and blocked out any thoughts beyond the screaming need his hands were creating as they moved over her skin.
One toe-curling kiss melded into the next as Chris’s tongue flicked against hers like a promise. But when his mouth moved lower, trailing moist heat along the swell of her breasts, she nearly arched off the bed in response. The loss of her bra vaguely registered, followed by the whispery slide of her panties down her thighs.
The featherlight kisses across her stomach were driving her mad. She reached for him, but his fingers locked around her wrist and pulled it over her head. Her other wrist soon followed, and Chris wrapped her fingers around the iron rails of the headboard.
His chest pressed against hers, the crisp hairs tickling sensitive skin, as she savored the feel of him against her from breasts to toes. Blue eyes locked into hers as he held her wrists in place.
“I told you I’d do all the work. That all you had to do was lie back and enjoy.”
“I thought we were talking about sailing.” Lord, was that whispery voice hers?
Even in the shadows of the room, she saw his grin. “No, you didn’t.” Then his head dropped to capture her nipple between his lips.
Yesss, she thought, and then she wasn’t able to think anymore.
“This is amazing. Really wonderful.” After an hour of worrying she’d fall off the boat—yacht, catamaran, whatever it was called—she was finally growing used to the feeling and began to understand the attraction sailing held.
“Then could you quit white-knuckling the edge of the tramp? You’re doing serious damage to my ego.”
“Your ego is in no danger at all.” Sure enough, though, she was still gripping the edge of the trampoline suspended between the two hulls as though her life depended on it. With a great show, she let go of the edge and stretched her arms out to catch the wind.
“That’s better.” He leaned over to give her a quick kiss.
Ah, yes, sailing was becoming more attractive by the minute. Or at least sailing with Chris was. Completely in his element, he controlled the boat with ease as the wind ruffled his hair.
She had vague memories of Chris kissing her goodbye in the small hours of the morning, saying he had some things to do before they set sail. She’d half expected never to see him again and had gone back to sleep with a touch of regret. Not about sleeping with him—oh, no, that topped her list of best decisions ever made—but that she didn’t have the guts to ask him to stay.
So when he’d shown up around ten that morning with a heart-stopping smile and a picnic basket, Ally had had to fight the urge to pull him straight back into bed and spend the rest of her trip there.
But this was good, too. She had a great view of his gift-from-the-gods body as he pulled on ropes and adjusted sails. Blue shorts rode low on his hips, and now that she no longer needed a death grip on the trampoline, she itched to touch him again.
She still couldn’t believe she’d actually…well, not to put too fine a point on it, that she’d had the most amazing sex of her life with this man. He was too good to be true. But, oh, Lord, the things he’d done to her. She hadn’t known, never even dreamed of the possibilities. Even now, her nipples tightened with need, and a fire burned low in her belly.
The little Beach-Cat, as Chris had called it, had one major flaw: zero privacy. The open design of the boat meant anyone could see what they were doing. Not that there were many folks in sight…
She resigned herself to just putting her hand on his leg instead and looked forward to getting back to shore as soon as possible.
“Are we headed someplace specific?”
Chris adjusted the sails again and the little boat leaped forward as it caught the wind. “There’s a little cove just around the point of the island I thought we could explore. I understand it’s pretty secluded.”
Her stomach flipped over at the thought. Maybe Chris’s thoughts were headed in the same direction as hers.
“But we have a little while before we get there. Why don’t you tell me that long story of how you came to be on Tortola alone.”
Ugh. Her blissful fantasy was torpedoed by the thought of home. “In a nutshell, I was supposed to come with someone, but that was canceled months ago. The trip was prepaid, and I didn’t want it to go to waste, even if none of my friends could come with me.”
“Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is an ex.”
Gerry’s blond good looks and petulant pout flashed into her mind. Why had she been willing to settle for someone so shallow? “Very much an ex. Thank goodness.”
“Agreed. His loss is my gain.”
Looking for a way to change the subject before Gerry could spoil her good mood, she went back to sailing. “Does the Circe go this fast?”
“We’re not going all that fast. Three or four knots, maybe. You could probably get out and run faster than this. And the Circe will go a lot faster than four knots.”
Pride filled his voice every time he mentioned the Circe. “That ship—”
“Yacht.”
“Sorry, that ‘yacht’ means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”
“I’ve been wanting to buy her for a long time, so yeah, I’m pretty pleased she’s now mine. But, as you saw, she needs a lot of work. A couple of my friends came by today to work on her, in fact.”
A tiny twinge of guilt nagged at her that he’d ditched his repairs of the Circe for her. At the same time, she was very glad he had. She stretched out on the trampoline, belatedly realizing she must be getting used to sailing to want to get comfortable. Or maybe it was just the matter-of-fact way Chris handled the cat that put her at ease. The man was born to be on the water, which led her to wonder what he did when he wasn’t.
“Where’s home for you?”
Chris ran a hand down her side and over the curve of her hip, where his thumb slid under the string of her bikini bottom. “I guess you could now say it’s wherever the Circe is.”
“Really?” She hadn’t thought about that possibility. She’d just assumed…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d assumed. “But you are American. In fact, with that accent I’d say you grew up somewhere on the southern East Coast.”
“South Carolina.”
“I’m a Georgia girl myself.”
“Let me guess. Savannah.”
“You’re good.”
“At many things.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively at her, and the hand at her hip moved promisingly.
“Oh, I fully agree with that.” And she smoothed her hand across his thigh and felt the muscle jump. Chris wanted her. She reveled in the feeling; just a couple of days ago, she had believed she was a boring, plain-Jane loser magnet, but here she was. It couldn’t be real: Ally Smith, Femme Fatale. Oh, her ego definitely needed this.
Another circle of his thumb reminded her that her ego wasn’t the only needy part of her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she could feel them roam over her body. Even with the heat of the sun on her, she shivered.
A sail flapped and Chris cursed, reaching for the rope and quickly running it through a cleat. Ally was almost glad for the distraction; Chris’s undivided attention was a heady thing. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the movement of the water lull her as Chris made easy conversation.
But she could still feel his eyes on her.
A bump pulled her out of her languor, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Chris jump off the boat. She sat up quickly. “What the—ouch!”
“I told you to watch out for the boom.”
Turning to find his voice, she realized the bump she’d felt had been the cat’s hulls reaching the shore. Chris gave a mighty pull, and the boat slid partially out of the water onto the sand.
“Are you okay?” Chris splashed in the shallow water to her side of the boat, his brow wrinkled in concern.
“I’m fine.”
“Then come on.” He held out a hand and pulled her into the surf with him.
The water was cool, a nice contrast to her sun-toasted skin, and clear enough to see her feet on the bottom. Chris moved into deeper water, pulling her gently along with him. She lifted her feet and held on to his arm, allowing herself to float slightly. The shoreline was empty, and no other boats had moored in the little cove. They were very much alone, an advantage Chris seemed keen to act upon as he pulled her legs around his waist. Strong hands dug into her hips as Chris’s mouth found that magic spot on her neck.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he growled. “That bikini wouldn’t adequately cover a Barbie doll. I nearly ran us aground on the sandbar.” His teeth found the string holding her top up, and untied the bow with a simple tug. The grip on her hips loosened, forcing her to grab his shoulders for support as he made quick work of the second string around her back. A second later, her pink top was floating toward shore.
“Um, Chris…”
“There’s no one here but us. No one to see you except me. And I want to see all of you.”
His lips captured hers for another mind-blowing kiss, but she felt him unhook her legs and quickly slide the bikini bottom off. Chris’s trunks bobbed to the surface as he hooked her legs around him again, but this time, no fabric separated them. She moaned at the sensation and he echoed the sound as she moved against him, wanting to feel more.
Although the bathing suit hadn’t covered much, being naked in the water was still a shock. She hadn’t been skinny-dipping since…well, ever. It was decadent and natural and intensely erotic.
Her breasts felt overly sensitized as the water lapped over them, and the position she was in offered him easy access. One arm held her firmly around her waist as his hand captured her breast, caressing it as his thumb grazed across her nipple.
“Ever made love in the ocean, Ally?”
“N-no,” she managed to wheeze.
One eyebrow arched up, and the gentle caress became more insistent. “Then I’m glad you’re open to new adventures this week.”
She hissed as his tongue swirled around her nipple before he pulled it into the heat of his mouth. Oh, yes. New adventures. Sign her up for more, as long as Chris would be her trail guide.
While the nips of his teeth drove her insane, one hand snaked between her legs to find her core. She shuddered as he teased her, his fingers urging her to the edge. How could his skin feel so hot in the cool water? A finger slid inside her, and she rocked her hips into his hand, seeking more. Chris returned the pressure, the heel of his hand hard against her as he urged her on with hot words whispered into her ear.
All she could do was hold on, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she climaxed.
Still thrumming with aftershocks, she opened her eyes to meet Chris’s deep blue stare. The intensity there rocked her, causing a rush she couldn’t identify, but she couldn’t look away.
She kissed him instead, holding his head and pressing her lips to his in an urgent need to share the feeling. Chris’s hand moved, withdrawing from her and she ached at the loss.
But it was blessedly short-lived, as Chris cupped his hands under her thighs, lifted her, and slipped easily inside. Gasping, she tightened her legs, squeezing herself against him until their bodies met. Shudders gave way to full-out tremors as he filled her.
Her senses seemed to sharpen, bringing everything into focus—the gentle lapping of the water against their skin, the waves landing on the beach behind her, the warm rays of the sun on her back and shoulders, the throb of Chris inside her, the rapid pounding of her heart, the sounds of their ragged breathing.
Then Chris started to move, holding and guiding her, and her focus narrowed. Nothing existed except this man and the pleasure rapidly peaking inside her. She trusted him to take her all the way, to hold her, please her and not let her drown, so she let herself go, chanting his name in rhythm to his thrusts. As she shattered, she felt Chris pull her close. A moment later, he held her hips tightly against him as powerful shudders moved under her fingers.
“Still feeling adventurous, Ally?”
With a huge effort, she was able to lift her head from his shoulder and open her eyes. One corner of his amazingly kissable mouth curved up in a challenge.
“Definitely.”
“Then let’s head to shore. I have a surprise for you…”
She felt drunk, more so than the bottle of wine she’d shared with Chris in the cove hours ago could be responsible for. No, she was definitely drunk on sex and sun and the sea—and, of course the man responsible for the best day of her entire life.
Chris helped her off the boat, his hands holding her waist longer than necessary, but she was having trouble keeping her hands off him, as well. The sun had been setting by the time they left their little cove, and a full moon now rode high in the sky, giving her just enough light to see the adorable crinkles around his eyes as he smiled at her.
He brushed his lips gently across hers before pushing the hair back from her face. “I really hate to leave you here, but I need to get the cat back, and there’re some things on the Circe I really need to check on…”
“It’s okay. Go. I’m completely exhausted. I desperately need a shower and some sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. You’ve worn me out.” She rose up on tiptoe for one last kiss. She meant it to be quick, but Chris held her head in his hands and deepened it into a libido-rocking kiss that was both gentle and powerful at the same time. Little flames of desire began to lick at her, and she wondered if she’d ever get enough of him.
“Tomorrow,” Chris whispered as he broke the kiss. “Be ready by ten.”
“Be ready for what?” Not that it mattered as long as he would kiss her like that.
“It’s a surprise. Bring a hat so your nose doesn’t get any pinker.”
She crinkled her nose experimentally and, sure enough, felt the tightness indicating she’d burned it.
“You’re adorable when you do that.” Chris pointed her in the direction of her hotel and patted her butt lightly. “Go. Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”
Trekking up the beach to the hotel was difficult on such wobbly legs, but somehow she made it. A deep sigh at the perfection of the day escaped, followed quickly by a yawn. She glanced back at the beach, and saw the sails of the boat in the moonlight as Chris took it back to the marina. The best day ever. And if Chris’s promises could be believed, she’d have another—possibly even better, though she couldn’t imagine how—tomorrow.
She couldn’t wait. She wrapped her arms around her waist and curled into the T-shirt she wore—Chris’s shirt. Alone now, she lifted the shirt to her nose and inhaled the scent of him.
Oh, get ahold of yourself. With a shake of her head, she went inside.
Few people were still in the lobby, and she realized that it was later than she had thought. She dug through her bag as she walked, searching for her key.
“Miss Smith! Miss Smith!”
Glad she was no longer Mrs. Hogsten to these people, she turned to see the desk clerk closing in on her fast. Pink message slips fluttered in his hand. “We’ve been looking for you all day,” he said as he thrust the stack at her.
She started to roll her eyes, but caught the anxious look on the clerk’s face. All the languor vanished as adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What? What’s happened?”
“There’s been an accident, Miss Smith. It’s very important you call home immediately.”
He was early, he knew that, but Ally didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would mind. She was just lucky Victor and Mickey had greeted him with a litany of problems with the Circe’s repairs and a Must Call message from his grandfather when he’d returned to the marina last night, because he’d been sorely tempted to turn right back around and join her for that shower. And, of course, sleep would have been out of the question after that.
Instead he’d spent the evening sorting out the Circe’s issues and placating his grandfather. But things were back on track and Ally was now foremost in his thoughts.
Sweet, delicious, tempting Ally.
A few phone calls and he’d borrowed the Siren, a sixty-foot cruiser with every amenity—most importantly, a plush captain’s cabin. The mental picture of Ally stretched across those sheets was enough to quicken his step. Siren was stocked with food and wine and ready to sail. They’d moor off Virgin Gorda tonight, maybe go snorkeling in Devil’s Bay tomorrow. He knew of a great secluded trail up from the beach…
His attraction to Ally was a bit of a mystery, but that combination of sweetness and sensuality was both intoxicating and refreshing, and had lifted a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. Victor and Mickey had teased him about his uncharacteristically good mood, something they said they hadn’t seen since the America’s Cup win three years ago.
In response, he’d left them to replace decking and caulk seams today.
The lobby of the Cordova Inn was deserted, and in the light of day, he noticed how shabby the hotel really was. Ally needed to fire her travel agent for booking her into a place like this. Ally’s room wasn’t far off the lobby—another thing her travel agent should have handled better—and he could see the door standing open.
Good. She’s ready to go.
“Pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because we won’t be back…” Ally’s room was empty, the bed stripped of its sheets. A maid came out of the bathroom carrying an armload of towels and started in shock at seeing him there.
“Where’s the woman who was in this room?”
“I don’t know, sir. I just know to clean the room for the next—”
Chris didn’t wait to hear the rest. In a few quick strides, he was back at the front desk, asking the clerk the same question.
“Miss Smith checked out.”
“Yes, I can see that,” he gritted out. “Where did she go?”
“Home, sir.”
“Why?” He really didn’t want to play Twenty Questions with the clerk, but the young man wasn’t being very forthcoming with answers.
“There was an accident. Her brother, I think the message said. We helped her arrange emergency flights, and I put her in a taxi to the airport myself this morning at six.” He seemed pleased with himself. Apparently Ally could bring out the Lancelot in every man.
“Has her flight left yet?”
“Yes, sir. The first flight to San Juan left at seven-thirty.”
He cursed, and the clerk’s eyes widened.
“However, if you are Mr. Wells, Miss Smith left a message for you.” At Chris’s nod, he passed over a folded piece of hotel letterhead.
Chris—
I’m so sorry to leave in such a rush, but there’s been an emergency and my family needs me. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but the taxi is waiting and my flight leaves in an hour. Thank you for a wonderful day yes-terday—it was possibly the best day of my life. Meeting you was the high point of this trip, and I really wish I could stay longer. Take care. I hope you and the Circe have wonderful adventures together. Love, Ally.
That was it? No phone number? No e-mail address? Not even a “look me up if you ever come to Savannah”? All that was missing was “Have a nice life.”
His good mood evaporated. Ally had left without even saying goodbye.
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_fe4eb0de-6d78-54dd-b8ab-38f3e5023fc6)
WELL, THAT WAS UNPLEASANT. Not the best way to start a Monday, either. Ally leaned on the sink and took a deep breath. Then she grabbed the toothbrush she’d learned to bring to work with her and brushed her teeth. Wiping the moisture from the corners of her eyes, she was glad she’d switched to waterproof mascara last week.
“Look, Kiddo, I’ll make you a deal. You let me keep my breakfast and I’ll give you a new car when you turn sixteen, okay?” Another wave of nausea had her leaning against the bathroom door taking shallow breaths until it passed. “No deal, huh? Your loss.”
Turning off the light, she opened the door to the office she shared with her friend and business partner. Molly stood waiting with a peppermint and a bottle of water.
“Seriously, now. How much longer is this going to go on?”
Ally took both offerings gratefully. The peppermint helped settle her stomach these days. “According to all the books, about six more weeks if I’m really lucky.” She sank into her desk chair and rested her head on her hands.
“You’re kidding me, right? Six more weeks of listening to you yak up your toenails every morning?” Molly’s pixie face wrinkled in an amusing mixture of concern and disgust.
Ally sipped at her water cautiously, but the nausea had gone as quickly as it had come. “So sorry to inconvenience you, Molls.”
“It’s not that. I’m just worried.”
Ally sighed. Snapping at Molly made her feel as if she’d kicked a puppy. “I know, and I’m sorry to be so witchy this morning. Dr. Barton says this is normal. Unpleasant, but still well within the range.”
It was Molly’s turn to sigh. “‘Unpleasant’ is an understatement.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” Six weeks to go? Between the sickness in the mornings and the unbelievable fatigue that set in around three o’clock, this first trimester wasn’t going well at all.
“Can I get you anything? Crackers? A soda?”
“Just help me find the Miller paperwork. I swear, this baby has stolen all my brain cells.”
Molly casually tapped a folder sitting just left of Ally’s elbow. “By the way, I talked to the landlord. He said we can have that storeroom for just a little more each month. I thought you could move your desk back there along with the baby’s stuff, and we’ll put a conference table out here to meet with clients.”
Tears gathered in Ally’s eyes. After the initial shock of Ally’s announcement had passed, Molly had gone into “prep mode,” never once questioning her decision to keep the baby, focusing instead on how they’d work out the logistics. Ally sniffed and reached for a tissue. Seemed she could check “overly emotional” on her list of symptoms, as well.
Thank goodness for Molly. She’d be a wreck without her. Her mom had flipped at the news, seemingly shocked that anyone accidentally ended up pregnant in this day and age. Ally had had to bite her tongue not to bring up her brother’s pregnant girlfriend, Diane—no one seemed overly surprised about that baby. Molly had been the voice of reason then, too. Her family was just too used to Ally being the sensible, smart, reliable one, she’d argued. In a rare moment of snark—showing how truly angry Molly was with the lot of them—she’d postulated that the real reason the family was upset over the news was that Ally’s attention would be focused somewhere else in the future. God forbid her family might actually have to take care of their own problems and not be able to run to her to sort them out.
Molly frowned. “You’re leaking again.”
Ally fanned her face. “No, I’m not. Just something in my eye.”
“Hey, I’d cry, too, if I went on my honeymoon alone and still managed to wind up pregnant.” Molly tossed the comment over her shoulder as she returned to her own desk.
“Yes, yes, I’m aware of the irony.” Right after she’d recovered from the shock of seeing a positive result on the pregnancy test and had realized she’d somehow ended up in the two-percent failure rate of the Pill, that irony had hit her right between the eyes.
It would almost be funny if it were someone else.
Molly’s keyboard clicked as she went back to work, and Ally tried to focus on the books from Miller’s Printing Company. She had to get their payroll data entered and their checks printed before the need for her afternoon nap hit, but she was having trouble concentrating.
From the moment her plane had taken off from San Juan, she’d tried to put Chris out of her mind. She knew she needed to forget him, to just let him and their hours together fade into a dim memory. But it hadn’t worked. She’d felt like a different version of herself, as though she’d been on the verge of something only to have been jerked back by her family responsibilities.
She’d caught a cab directly from the airport to the hospital, expecting to find her brother barely clinging to life. Instead, Steven was slightly battered from flipping his dirt bike, but awake, lucid and not near death at all—a situation she’d been tempted to remedy when he’d shown no remorse at all for ruining her vacation. After all, as her mother had added, Steven needed someone to deal with the hospital billing department and transfer money from his small trust to pay bills with.
The bitterness of missing out on more delightful days with Chris because of her family…well, she’d almost been over it by the time she’d missed her period, but any hope of forgetting about him had vanished at that point.
She was carrying his baby—a permanent reminder of those two wonderful days. How long would it take for her not to remember him every time she looked at their child? Her child, she corrected. This baby was hers alone.
Chris climbed the stairs to his office on OWD’s second floor two at a time. His mornings had taken on a pattern these days—an hour at the gym, a few hours on the Circe’s renovations, lunch, then into the office. Today, though, he came straight from the yard, bypassed his assistant’s desk without stopping for messages and went straight for his computer.
The damage to the Circe’s keel was greater than expected, and he’d contacted a friend for suggestions when he and Jack had clashed over the best course of action. He’d snapped a few quick photos with his phone, but couldn’t get them to send properly for some reason.
He dug the USB cable out of its drawer and waited for the files to download onto his computer. A few clicks later, and the photos and measurements were off to Pete. Aesthetically, Circe’s rehab was going well, but structurally they kept finding new issues to deal with. He’d barely gotten her home—the constant problems had stretched his trip to almost four weeks, much to Victor’s and Mickey’s amusement and Pops’s dismay.
Hopefully, this problem with the keel would be the last.
With the photos sent, Chris closed his e-mail account. The window open on his screen, though, showed another file had been in the download. That’s odd.
He clicked it open, and Ally filled his screen. Something heavy landed in his stomach at the sight of that cheeky smile. He’d forgotten he’d taken it. They’d been almost ready to sail back when his phone had fallen out of his kit bag. She’d caught it before it went overboard and handed it to him, saying something about…what was it? Boys and their toys, he remembered. In response, he’d snapped a quick photo of her. She’d protested, grabbed the phone away, and distracted him with a kiss.
It had been another hour before they’d set off.
Ally.
He didn’t need to look behind him at the bulletin board on the wall to know that Ally’s note with her name and phone number scribbled on the back was still there. A hundred bucks slipped to the desk clerk had gotten her contact info from the computer, but after the initial shock and anger at her abrupt departure had abated—and the struggle to get the Circe home in one piece had helped distract him nicely—he’d never followed up on his knee-jerk reaction to want to find her.
He’d put her from his mind, if not his dreams, and gone back to his life, even if the blithe way she’d dismissed him had left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Mickey had taken his life in his hands once to tease him about it—shortly after he’d returned to the Circe instead of sailing off with Ally on the Siren—telling him it was a fair turnaround considering his own love-’em-and-leave-’em past. That was the closest he’d ever come to hitting a crewmate.
He wasn’t sure why he’d even kept her note and number, much less pinned it on the board with the photos of him and his crew in various races over the years.
“Chris?” Marge, Pops’s secretary, stuck her head around his office door. “I brought you a sandwich.”
After thirty years with the company, Marge was more family than employee, and she’d mothered Chris shamelessly since day one. She was well past retirement age, but had said the place would fall apart without her and claimed they’d have to carry her out of there in a box. He and Pops certainly weren’t arguing with her or forcing her out of the door.
Crossing to Chris’s desk, she laid the sandwich on the blotter and ruffled his hair. “Jack said you two had a disagreement about the Circe.”
The sandwich smelled delicious, and his stomach growled at the reminder he’d skipped lunch when the keel had distracted him. “Jack always comes running to you, the tattletale. She’s not his boat.”
“And I’m sure you’re right about the keel. Just don’t forget to eat. Who’s she?” Marge was peering at the picture of Ally, still open on his desktop.
“Just someone I met on Tortola.” He closed the picture.
“And you took her sailing? You never take anyone sailing. She must’ve been some girl.”With a confidence not every employee would have, Marge clicked the photo open again and studied it carefully. “She’s pretty, but not what I’d call your usual type.”
He closed it again and unwrapped the sandwich. His favorite. Marge was too good to him. “Well, Ally was an aberration.”
One of Marge’s penciled eyebrows went up. “Ally is it? Ally of the mystery phone number, perhaps?”
He nearly choked on the large bite of roast beef but managed to swallow it painfully instead. “Is there anything you don’t know?”
“It’s right there.” Marge pointed. “It’s not like I had to go looking or anything. Eat.”
Dutifully, he took another bite.
“That’s a Savannah area code. Have you called her?”
Oh, good Lord. “No. And I doubt I will. Too much going on.”
“Piffle.” Marge waved the excuse away. “You just don’t want to. I hope the poor girl isn’t pining away waiting for your call.”
“I doubt it.” She would have had to have left a phone number.
With a shrug, Marge walked back to the door. “That’s a pity. Oh, and your grandfather wants an update on Dagny when you have a minute.”
No, Pops wanted to try to talk him out of it again. Finding fault with the Dagny’s progress was only his newest tactic.
Once Marge left, Chris ate and debated with himself as he stared at the icon on the desktop that would open Ally’s picture if he clicked on it again.
What the hell. He probably should have called her already, just to be sure that her brother was okay. It would have been the right thing to do, after all.
He closed his office door, then dialed.
“AMI Accounting Services. This is Molly.”
A business? Did he even have the right number? “I’m looking for Ally Smith.”
“She’s, um, away from her desk at the moment. Can I take a message?”
This was actually good. He’d salve his conscience and avoid further meddling from Marge by putting the ball in Ally’s court. He’d called. Done his part. “Sure. This is Chris—”
“The contractor?” Molly interrupted, but didn’t give him a chance to answer. “Great. Ally said you’d be calling. Actually, I can give you the information since she’s busy.”
“I’ll just—” he started again, only to be interrupted with another torrent of words.
“We just need an estimate right now, but we don’t need to start work right away. We’ve got until March to get it ready, after all.” Molly laughed, but then hurried on before he could say anything. “We need to finish out the storeroom into an office for Ally—did she mention the lighting? She’ll need to be able to darken the back half of the room where the crib will go. She doesn’t think it will be a problem, but I think we should go ahead and have the electrics for that done while y’all are finishing out the walls. Don’t you agree?”
One word out of the flood stopped him cold. “Excuse me, did you say crib?”
“Oh, it won’t be a huge crib—I don’t want you to think the space is that big.” There was that laugh again, but he was still stuck on crib. “It’s really just a cubbyhole for Ally and the baby.”
Ally and the baby. And Molly said they had until March. A quick count backward meant that if Ally was pregnant, she’d conceived the baby in June. They were on Tortola in June. She’d told him she’d broken up with her ex months before, which meant she’d gotten pregnant on Tortola.
Adrenaline surged through his system.
“What time do you close today?”
“Oh, we’ll be here until at least five-thirty or so. Can you come this afternoon?”
Without a doubt. “And your address?”
“Four seventeen West Jefferson, suite C. We’ll—”
Chris hung up.
Ally was pregnant. There was a strong possibility the baby was his. Not only had she fled Tortola without saying goodbye, she hadn’t bothered to try to find him and let him know she was carrying his child? Maybe she’d tried to, but…no, he wasn’t that hard to find. Chris Wells might be a common enough name, but between knowing he was from Charleston and the sailing, she’d have found him quickly enough with one search on Google.
She had no intention of telling him. Unexpected anger coiled in his chest.
Keys. Phone. That was all he needed. He opened his office door to find Marge and his assistant in the outer office.
Without slowing his pace, he talked as he passed them. “Good. You’re both here. That saves me time. Marge, tell Pops I’ll talk to him about the Dagny tomorrow. Grace, I’m gone for the rest of the day.”
Marge recovered first. “Where are you going?” she called after him.
“Savannah, damn it.”
Okay, this was getting ridiculous. Morning sickness was for mornings. If she was going to start losing both her breakfast and her lunch every day, she and the baby were going to starve to death long before they made it out of this phase.
She brushed her teeth for the third time that day and went back to her desk where the rest of her lunch awaited her. One look at the guacamole on her taco salad caused her stomach to heave in protest.
“What now?” Molly asked around a mouthful of burrito.
“Can you get that off my desk? Just get it away from me, please. The guacamole is—ugh.”
Molly, bless her heart, moved quickly, closing the box and carrying it outside without question. Once the offensive condiment was out of sight, her stomach felt much better.
Molly brought her the peppermints once she returned. “That’s so sad. You love guacamole and it’s so good for you.”
“But the baby doesn’t love it, obviously, and I’m willing to give in on this.”
“Since you’re the color of guacamole right now, that’s probably a wise choice. Tortilla chip?”
That seemed safe enough. It was the craving for something salty and spicy that had led her to suggest they order Mexican for lunch in the first place. She would just omit the guacamole for the foreseeable future.
“By the way, one of the Kriss brothers called while you were indisposed.”
The peppermint actually tasted quite nice with the salsa. “Really? That was fast. Their office manager said they were out of town until tomorrow.”
Molly shrugged. “I think they’re going to come by this afternoon and give us the estimate.” Her brow wrinkled. “He was kinda rude on the phone, though. Are you sure this is the company you want to go with?”
“Michael Kriss did that work for my mom last year. She raves about him.”
“Your mom raves about a lot of things.”
“Yes, but when it comes to updating or decorating the Dingbat Cave, she is remarkably focused.”
“Then I’ll withhold judgment until we meet them and get the estimate.”
Ally nibbled on another chip. “Speaking of judgment, Erin kicked me out of the wedding last night.”
“She didn’t! Why?”
“Because I’ll be seven months pregnant and she doesn’t want my big belly drawing attention away from her on her ‘special day.’”
The picture of outrage, Molly nearly sputtered. “That’s insane. What did your mother say?”
“Oh, she’s on board, but it all kind of got lost in the melee after Steven made his big announcement.”
“Do I even want to know?”
It was a good thing Molly understood her family. “My brother is now a Scientologist.”
Molly spat her water across the desk. “Just like that? He woke up one morning and decided he was converting?”
“Pretty much. My grandmother swears she’s seconds from a heart attack at the news, Mom is convinced she’ll never make it into the Junior League now, and Erin claims Steven is just seeking attention since he’s recovered from the accident.” Leaning back in her chair, Ally propped her feet on her desk and crunched another chip.
“And your dad?”
“Dad went fishing, so he hasn’t weighed in yet.”
“Erin just wants all the attention on her and the wedding.”
“You got it.”
“I’m so glad you passed the edict they were no longer allowed to call here unless someone was bleeding.”
“Me, too. I finally took the phone off the hook last night and went to sleep around eight. I was just too exhausted to deal with any of them.”
“Good for you. Can I slap Erin next time I see her?”
Bless Molly and her loyalty. “At least I don’t have to wear that ugly green dress now.”
“Small favors.” Molly trailed off into her usual mutterings about Ally’s clan, but was thankfully distracted by the phone before she worked up too big a head of steam on Ally’s behalf. Once Molly got wound up it was hard to calm her back down.
Ally entered the last few numbers into the computer file, waited for the screen to update, then hit Print. Payroll for other companies was AMI’s bread and butter, and she normally found the process boring. Today, though, the monotony of folding and stuffing checks was just what her mind needed. Between her own problems, her family, and the brain-numbness the baby caused, the simple, repetitive action felt soothing.
Two hours later she had all the checks for all four of their biggest clients ready. She took a few minutes to log on to her mother’s bank account and pay the bills before she logged on to her e-mail account. Four e-mails from her sister. Ugh. She did not want to deal with that right now.
She eyeballed the stack of checks. Molly normally took care of delivery, but the prospect of getting out of the office for a little while was tempting. Two businesses were within walking distance, and a walk in the August sunshine would be good for the baby. And she could stop for a smoothie on the way back.
The sunshine helped clear the cobwebs from her head and being out in the neighborhood improved her mood. She loved the entire City Market district with its variety of restaurants, interesting stores and true community feel. The rent on the office was high, but worth every penny. Ally dropped off both sets of checks, then dawdled in Franklin Square for a little while to enjoy the afternoon. Next year she could bring the baby here when they needed a break from the office.
She shouldn’t delay getting back any longer. After a quick stop at the vegan deli for a banana smoothie for herself and a mango one for Molly, she rounded the last corner.
A very sleek red sports car like the kind James Bond would probably drive was parked in front of their building. As she approached, the driver’s side door opened and a tall blond man got out. There was something vaguely familiar about the man…
Recognition hit a split second before he turned around. Her pulse jumped briefly in excitement before reality hit and her heart dropped like a stone into her stomach.
Casually, as though he had every reason in the world to be right outside her office, Chris leaned against the car and crossed his arms across his chest, eerily reminiscent of that first day on the dock weeks ago. Only last time he’d seemed relaxed, open and approachable. Today he looked like he’d been carved from stone, and his jaw was tight. In a tone that could easily cut glass he simply said, “How are you, Ally?”
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_a169386c-ab70-5efb-a95d-fc5bc4973c36)
HOLY HELL. Ally tightened her numb fingers around the cup she held as her heart jumped back into her chest and pounded erratically. She leaned against a mailbox for a moment as she tried to gather herself. Breathe. Be calm.
“This is certainly a surprise.” Pleased her voice didn’t shake too much, Ally punctuated it with a small smile.
Chris didn’t return it. “Seems we’re both having surprising days, then.”
She didn’t know what to make of that statement. In fact, she didn’t know what to make of anything—not why he was here, not what she should say in response. “I thought you were still on Tortola with the Circe. What brings you to Savannah?”
His voice was clipped, succinct, the lazy drawl disappearing. “I brought the Circe home to Charleston. I came to Savannah to find you.”
She’d dreamed once that Chris had come to her, and he’d said almost those exact same words. But the reality version wasn’t at all like the dream. No, in her dream, Chris had smiled as he said the words, causing those adorable crinkles around his blue, blue eyes. Those eyes were cold now, and one eyebrow arched up in a mocking challenge. What kind of challenge, she wasn’t sure.
She nearly blurted out, “Why?” but caught the question in time. From the look on his face, she didn’t think she’d like the answer. Instead she went to her next pressing question. “How’d you find me?”
“You mean since you didn’t leave a number on your brief goodbye note?” he mocked. “Seriously, Ally, in this day and age it’s not all that difficult to find someone when you want to.”
Something nasty lurked behind his words, sending a cold shiver through her insides. Her hand went protectively to her stomach, but she caught herself at the last second.
The instinctive movement didn’t pass unnoticed, though, and she winced as Chris’s eyes narrowed. “My question is, why didn’t you find me?”
There’s no way he could know. Bluff your way out of this and leave gracefully. “I enjoyed our time together—honestly, I did—but it was over and done with. I had no idea you’d leave Tortola. Or that you’d be so close to Savannah.” That was the truth. Why did he have to be from Charleston, for goodness’ sake? Why couldn’t he be from Florida or someplace far, far from here? “It seemed best just to let it go.”
Chris levered himself off the car and took a step toward her, his voice dropping dangerously. “That’s not what I’m talking about, and you damn well know it. It would have taken you approximately five minutes to find me if you’d tried. And you should have tried as soon as you found out.”
He knew. Oh, God, he knew. How? Paniclike flutters in her chest made it hard to breathe. No, there was no way he could know. “When I found out what?”
“Don’t play dumb, Ally. It doesn’t suit you. You’re pregnant. About six weeks if I understand correctly. And six weeks ago you were with me.”
There was the nausea again. She swayed on her feet as it washed over her. Chris grabbed her elbow. “Are you all right?”
She took a deep breath—inhaling the scent of him and letting it coil through her—and blew it out slowly, trying to will the nausea away. Game over, time to just face it. “How did you find out?”
He tilted his head in the direction of the office. “Your business partner—Molly, right?—she told me today when I called.”
She needed to sit down, but there was nothing on the sidewalk to use as a seat. This was too much to process at once. The happy thought of Chris calling her before he knew about the baby was quickly stomped down by the need to wring Molly’s neck. She took deep breaths to calm herself. It didn’t work.
“I take it from your reaction that it is my baby.”
All she could do was nod. The swimming feeling in her head was too much for anything else.
“And you had no intention of telling me?” Each word was clipped and sharp. This wasn’t the Chris who’d taken her sailing and made her laugh. And made her cry out with his touch. This Chris was livid. Cold.
“I just—”
“There’s no ‘just,’ Ally. Yes or no.”
“No! I mean yes. I mean—” Over Chris’s shoulder, she could see that Sarah, the owner of the bookshop across the street, watching her carefully, a worried crease on her forehead. A quick glance around showed Sarah wasn’t the only one paying attention. No one was headed in this direction—yet—but they had an audience. At least her office didn’t have street-front windows, or else Molly would be out here wanting to know what was going on. This public display had to stop.
She lowered her voice. “Look, I can’t talk about this. Not now. And certainly not here.”
The muscle in his jaw twitched. Chris looked around, noted the interest they’d garnered and nodded sharply. “Agreed.”
Relief swept through her. She set the smoothies on the mailbox and rummaged though her bag for a pen and piece of paper. “I’ll call yo—”
“Where do you live?”
Her head jerked up so quickly a neck muscle spasmed. “What?”
“We need to talk. Privately. Your place seems like the obvious choice.”
She’d hoped for a reprieve. A chance to plan strategy. A chance to at least get her heartbeat under control. “But…”
“Right here, right now, or your place. Take your pick.”
How dare he sweep in here and start ordering her about? She didn’t have to “take her pick” about anything. She didn’t need this kind of upset. She should just walk away. But guilt nagged at her. To be fair, he did have cause to be angry.
As she argued with herself, the tension in Chris’s jaw seemed to increase. She wasn’t going to get out of this, so she needed to pull herself together and deal with it as gracefully as possible. Better to get it over with now.
Yeah, keep telling yourself that.
“My apartment is about ten minutes from here. I’ll need to get my stuff and tell Molly I’m leaving for the day. I’ll be a couple of minutes.”
Another nod, this one so small it was barely perceptible. The man was so tense, the cords in his neck were visible.
She managed to open the office door calmly enough and made it inside. Once out of Chris’s eyesight, though, her knees began to wobble again as the magnitude of the situation hit her.
Zombielike, Ally placed the mango smoothie on Molly’s desk before collapsing in the adjacent chair.
Molly brightened as she reached for her drink. “Thanks. Yum.” She took a sip before looking closely at Ally, and the corners of her mouth turned down in concern. “Are you okay? You look pale. Are you going to barf again?”
Possibly. “I’m fine.” The emotional toil of the last ten minutes—not to mention the thought of what was still to come—washed over her and she rubbed her eyes tiredly.
Molly took her answer at face value. “Some guy came in looking for you about twenty minutes ago.”
A hysterical giggle tried to escape. “Oh, he found me.”
“He was all shades of cute. Who is he? Is he single?”
Fatigue—probably not all due to the baby this time—washed over her, and she rested her head in her hands. “Molls, please tell me what possessed you to tell a stranger over the phone that I was pregnant.”
Indignant, Molly nearly choked on her smoothie. “I did no such thing.”
“Really? Chris says he called here today and you told him I was pregnant.”
“Chris? Who’s Chr—Oh.” Molly’s lips puckered. “Someone did call, and when he said Chris, I thought it was the Kriss Brothers. I mentioned why we were fixing up that room. Are you telling me he was…That the guy who came in here…That he’s—” Ally watched as all the pieces fell into place for Molly. “Oh, Ally, I’m so sorry. No wonder you look so pale.”
There was that hysterical laughter again. Ally went to her desk and turned off her computer. “I’m taking the rest of the afternoon off. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Of course. Go home and lie down. We’ll sort this all out tomorrow. I have to say, though—hummina, hummina. No wonder you…”
“Molly…” she warned.
“Okay, okay. What did he say?”
“Let’s just say he’s a bit angry I didn’t find him when I found out.”
“I told you that you should. He has a right to know.”
“I know.” Overwhelmed again, she swung her chair around and sat. “But being pregnant was complicated enough, I didn’t need anything else. I thought he lived on his boat in the Caribbean, for goodness’ sake. How was I to know he really lived in Charleston and wasn’t just ‘free spirit sailor boy’? Like I needed another…”
“Another Gerry?”
“Exactly. I have enough folks—not to mention the baby—relying on me as it is. I just got one unemployed pretty boy off my hands, I didn’t want to get another one to support. For all I knew, Chris Wells was just another Gerry waiting to happen.”
“Wait a minute.” Molly’s eyes widened. “Chris Wells? And he’s from Charleston? He’s the Chris Wells?”
“Maybe. Why? Who’s the Chris Wells?”
“I thought he looked familiar. Good Lord…Ally, I know you didn’t want to contact him, but are you really telling me you didn’t at least look the man up on Google out of curiosity?” Molly was already at her computer, fingers flying across the keyboard.
“I didn’t want to know. It was just easier if I didn’t. Look, he’s waiting for me, and he’s not in the most patient of moods right now.”
“He can wait one more minute. Come here.” Molly swiveled her computer screen around as Ally sat in the chair across from her. “You need to see this.”
Chris on a sailboat, grinning at the camera. Her heart did a quick double beat as that was the Chris she remembered—not the very angry man waiting for her outside. “And?”
Molly sighed deeply. “Listen carefully. Ever heard of the OWD Shipyard outside Charleston? The W stands for Wells. OWD is the primary sponsor of Wells Racing, and the owner’s grandson, Chris, captains their boats. Team Wells has won every major race in the last five years—including the America’s Cup. They’re considered unbeatable. My God, Ally, you certainly know how to pick them. Chris Wells is the Tiger Woods of sailing.”
Slowly, Molly’s words started to sink in, and the information on the screen in front of her corroborated her story. “How do you know this?”
Molly waved a hand dismissively. “Back when I was dating Ray, he was really into ships and racing. It was all he talked about.”
“Yachts.” She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. Chris was a celebrity. And the heir to the OWD Shipyard to boot.
Molly looked at her blankly.
“Those are yachts, not ships.” He’d lied to her. Said he raced some and occasionally won. Yeah, right. He was the freakin’ god of the sailing world and he’d led her to believe…Well, he hadn’t really led her anywhere, but he certainly hadn’t been totally honest, either. Chris wasn’t the only one angry now.
Not caring much anymore that Chris was waiting for her, she continued to click through the links, and each Web page brought a new emotion. She welcomed them. By the time she heard the chimes over the door, announcing that he’d gotten impatient and had come to get her, she no longer felt quite so shaky or defensive.
“Are you ready yet, Ally?” Anger still radiated from him, but she no longer cared how mad he was.
Molly, bless her heart, tried to defuse the situation. Extending her hand to Chris, she introduced herself. “We didn’t meet properly earlier. I’m Molly, Ally’s business partner.”
Chris nodded, but his eyes never left Ally. He seemed to be trying to stare her into the ground, but she felt steady and refused to give him the satisfaction of cowering this time.
Grabbing her things, she stood. Time to get this over with. “Yes, I am. You drive. I’ll see you tomorrow, Molls.”
Chris watched as Ally led the way to his car and climbed in without waiting for him to assist. Something had changed in the last few minutes, and he now felt anger radiating from her.
Other than the terse directions she provided, she sat in silence as they drove. What did she have to be so irritated about? He was the wronged party here. When he’d seen her come around the corner, his body had leaped to life, his blood heating and his hands itching to touch her again. But the look on her face when she’d recognized him had killed that feeling as it answered almost every question he’d asked himself on the drive down from Charleston. She was pregnant. The baby was his. And she hadn’t planned on ever telling him.
When he’d realized it was all true, the anger had boiled over and he’d blasted her with it. He hadn’t handled the situation as well as he’d planned, and now guilt nibbled at the edge of his ire.
The only important answer he didn’t have yet was why, but he planned to rectify that soon enough. With Ally practically vibrating with hostility as she sat next to him, though, he doubted he’d get a satisfactory answer at the moment.
In an attempt to both appease his guilt and ease the tension between them, he backtracked to less volatile territory—at least while they were in a small, enclosed space. “How are you feeling?”
Ally’s eyebrows went up and she seemed poised to attack. Instead she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “The mornings are pretty rough, and I’m tired a lot.”
“And that’s normal?”
She nodded. “Unfortunately.” Her lips twitched in amusement, and, for a brief moment, he flashed back to Tortola, back to when her inability to hide her reactions had charmed him. But the moment passed quickly, and her amusement faded as rapidly as it had come. “Turn left. That’s me on the corner.”
The two-story Victorian sat gracefully among its historic neighbors, beautiful and well cared for despite its age. He’d been so occupied on the short drive, he hadn’t noticed she was directing him to the heart of Savannah’s historic district. “This is your place?”
Ally didn’t break stride as she climbed the steps to the spacious verandah and slid her key into the lock. “The first floor is. I may not be the heir to a shipyard or have zillion-dollar endorsement agreements, but I do all right.”
So she did know who he was. She may not have known when they met, but at some point she’d done her homework. Which meant she could have contacted him if she’d wanted to. His ire flared up again.
Ally’s sandals slapped against hardwood floors, and the sound echoed off the high ceilings as she moved around the room before settling on an overstuffed red sofa. The apartment suited her—or at least the little he knew about her—old-fashioned around the edges but still modern. The absurdity of the situation hit him at that moment. A woman he barely knew was carrying his child.
“You wanted to talk. Let’s talk.”
The challenge was there; he no longer had the element of surprise on his side, and Ally must feel as though she had the home court advantage now. “How long have you known?”
“That I was pregnant? About three weeks.”
“And in all that time, it never occurred to you that you should tell me?” Agitated, he paced in front of the sofa she sat on, hoping the extra expense of energy would keep him from lashing out again as his temper built.
“To what end? As far as I knew, you lived on a boat somewhere in the Caribbean and hooked up with a different girl every night of the week.”
“And you assumed the swabbie wasn’t worth telling? He was good enough to sleep with on vacation, but not good enough to help you raise a child?”
“Be reasonable, Chris. It’s not a matter of ‘good enough.’ I was just trying to be rational about this.”
“When you found out differently, you didn’t call me because…”
“I only found out about the great Chris Wells twenty minutes ago, so it didn’t affect my assessment of the situation.”
“You expect me to believe that when you found out you were pregnant, you never once tried to find out more about me?”
For the first time in this ridiculous conversation, Ally’s temper seemed to flare. “To be brutally honest, I had enough on my plate to figure out. I wasn’t all that worried about you.”
“Oh, no. I can’t see why the father of the baby would have any impact whatsoever on your plans.”
As fast as it had come, the heat fled from her voice and her tone became conciliatory. “Don’t take it personally. I loved every minute we spent together, but it was just a summer fling. It was over, as far as everything was concerned.”
He gestured at her stomach. “I beg to differ.”
Ally sighed and rubbed her face. “Look. My hormones are a mess right now, I cry at the drop of a hat, I’m so exhausted I can barely keep my eyes open, and I haven’t been able to eat all day. I can’t deal with this level of hostility, and I don’t see much sense in continuing to shout at each other. Let’s just cut to the chase, okay?”
Personally, he felt there was a lot of ground still to cover, but only a true jerk would continue to upset a pregnant woman. It wasn’t good for the baby.
His baby.
While anger had been driving him since Molly unwittingly dropped the news, the magnitude of the situation finally slammed into him. He was going to be a father. Hard on the heels of that realization was the even more shocking understanding that he wanted this baby.
Now he needed to sit down. He chose a chair across from Ally and nodded for her to continue.
Ally took a deep breath before she spoke. “I didn’t try to find you because I didn’t think it would matter. You didn’t strike me as the kind of guy who was looking to be tied down, so telling you about the baby—even if I’d been able to locate you—didn’t seem like a winning situation.” He started to interrupt, but she hurried ahead. “Obviously, Iwas mistaken with that assumption, and for that I apologize. I didn’t set out to get pregnant, but I know I want her. Or him. You don’t have to worry, though. I have a good job, plenty of friends and family, and I can handle this. I don’t expect anything from you.”
Wringing Ally’s neck sounded very tempting at the moment. “What if I expect something? This is my child, too, remember.”
Genuine shock at his statement sent Ally’s eyebrows upward. Had she never once considered that possibility while she was “handling” things?
“Well, um, I’m sure we can work something out. Visitation arrangements or…”
“That’s not good enough.”
“Then what do you want?” There was a beat of silence before Ally laughed. “It’s not like we can get married or anything.”
Actually, that was a possibility he hadn’t considered yet. He hadn’t had three weeks to make decisions. Hell, he’d barely had three hours. “Why not?”
“Be serious.”
“Maybe I am.”
“I’m not looking to get married at the moment.” A shadow crossed her face but disappeared a second later.
“Neither was I, now that you mention it, but the circumstances have changed.”
That seemed to spark something, and her calm facade dropped. She stood and paced, and her hands moved agitatedly as she talked. “But the century hasn’t. We don’t have to get married because I’m pregnant. There are other—”
“I’m not going to be delegated to the occasional weekend.” He’d had enough of that with his own parents in the early days after their divorce. Until his mother had decided not to bother anymore, at least.
“Then what do you want?”
Before he even realized what he was doing, he was on his feet and his hands were gripping her arms. “To be a part of my child’s life. To be his father!”
Ally shook off his grip. “I’m offering you that. We’ll just have to figure something out that works for both of us. Charleston is only a couple of hours away…”
As unbelievable as it sounded, Ally seemed to think he was really going to settle for whatever little plan she had turning in her head. Not likely. “Damn it, Ally—”
She spun on him in a fury. “Don’t even look at me like that. How dare you come storming down here and start making demands? This is my baby, and I’ll be the one making the decisions.”
He moved toward her, and she took a step backward. “Your baby? Hello, you didn’t get pregnant by yourself. That baby is just as much mine as it is yours.”
She lifted her chin and tossed down the gauntlet. “Maybe not. Maybe I lied and it’s not yours after all.”
So much for cutting to the chase and discussing this like adults. “Don’t try me, Ally. You won’t like the results.”
Brown eyes narrowed and a flush rose on her chest. “Is that some kind of threat?”
“I don’t make threats. Just promises.”
The flush continued to rise up her neck, and Ally’s lips compressed into a thin line. “Get out,” she snapped. “Now.”
He stood his ground. “This conversation is not over—”
“Oh, yes, it is. Leave.” Stalking across the room, she picked up the phone. “Leave or I’ll call the police.”
“Now who’s making threats?”
“You’re not the only one who doesn’t make empty threats. Get out of my house.”
He’d never had anyone try his temper the way Ally did, and he was moments from saying or doing something he might regret later. Maybe it was best he leave before then. As he opened the door, he warned her one last time. “This doesn’t end here. This is far from over.”
“Oh, no. It’s over. I assure you of that. Goodbye, Chris.” She slammed the door behind him and he heard the lock click into place.
She thought it was that easy? That it was over just because she said so? She might have gotten away with it on Tortola, but the circumstances had changed dramatically.
He had his phone out of his pocket and his assistant on the line before he even had the car started.
Ally was in for a rude awakening.
Ally’s anger carried her as far as the kitchen for a glass of water before it deflated in a rush that had her knees buckling. Ice rattled in the glass as she filled it from the tap with a shaky hand. Easing onto a bar stool gratefully, she sipped carefully and cursed Chris for making her lose her temper.
She never lost her temper. She was the calm one while everyone else spun out of control. Molly had always praised her flair for diplomacy, a skill she’d honed over years of dealing with her family and their constant dramatics. Why had it failed her now? Instead of calmly—rationally—coming to a workable agreement and smoothing ruffled feathers, she’d managed to make the situation worse. Where was her famed calm and diplomacy today? It had to be the hormones. This pregnancy was really messing with her head.
But now that she could see something other than a red haze…Ugh. She may not know Chris very well, but she had a sinking feeling she’d made a huge tactical mistake in firing up his anger.
Her five minutes with Google earlier today had told her a lot about the great Chris Wells. A true golden boy, he came from old Charleston money and had the whole sailing world worshipping at his feet. Maybe she should have given in to her curiosity sooner; then she wouldn’t have been at such a disadvantage today.
“You sure know how to pick them,” Molly had said it with a kind of begrudging awe, but Ally knew that wasn’t the case at all. Molly saw his good looks, his charm and his money, and therefore branded him a good catch. Ally, though, knew better. Looks, charm and money didn’t equal squat in her book. Gerry had looks and charm to spare, yet he’d been an emotional black hole. She’d invested far too much in his dreams, only to get nothing in return except four years of doing his laundry. Golden boys had a tendency to expect the world to revolve around them, and she had learned her lesson the hard way. Hell, her own brother was a shining example—handsome and full of charm, he’d been dazzling girls since junior high. But he was self-centered and expected everyone to dance to his tune just for the privilege of basking in the reflected glow. His girlfriend, Diane, would have been history by now if she hadn’t turned up pregnant, and even impending fatherhood hadn’t tamed Steven.
If she’d found all this out about Chris and hadn’t been carrying his child, she probably wouldn’t have contacted him. Once bitten, twice shy. Between her brother and Gerry, she had enough experience to know that Chris would be a very bad idea.
And now she had someone else to think about, someone she had to put first. How long would Chris want to play Daddy before he got bored and went back to his far-more-exciting world? No way she’d put her son or daughter through that.
Most likely Chris was just reacting out of shock, anger and guilt. It would pass now that he knew she didn’t expect anything from him, and his sense of responsibility would fade. She just needed to wait it out. After all, even as mad as he was at the moment, what could he do?
Glad she hadn’t completely lost her ability to be rational, she sent a quick text message to Molly to let her know everything was okay and that she was now going to take a much-needed nap. The usual afternoon fatigue was even worse in the aftermath of such emotional upheaval.
She pulled the shades to darken the bedroom and didn’t bother to do any more than kick off her shoes before stretching out across the comforter. As she closed her eyes, the image of Chris climbing out of that car—that one second when she’d recognized him, before he had turned around and she’d seen the anger on his face—was waiting for her. And now that she was alone and sleep was crowding in from all sides, she couldn’t ignore the fact her heart had skipped a beat in excitement, and for a fraction of a second her whole body had screamed to life.
If only things were different….
Don’t go there. Ally rolled over and punched the pillow into shape. This was not the time to play If Only. She knew better than that. Things were what they were, and the sooner she got that through her head the better.
But it didn’t stop her mind from toying with the might-have-beens until sleep dragged her under a few minutes later.
CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_28b48234-5fd9-5937-9b20-6441a2eab3a8)
THE WORST PART of Chris’s job had to be the paperwork. He had no patience for the pages of numbers and reports that cluttered his desk on a daily basis. He’d rather be down in the yard doing something—anything, even welding, which he hated—rather than be stuck inside buried under a pile of paperwork. But, as Pops reminded him daily, OWD was still a family business, and as the only direct family Pops had left, Chris had to do his part.
That was soon to change, though. Chris being the only Wells left in line, that is. The news of Ally’s pregnancy had thrilled the old man and put a new spring in his step. A great-grandchild—security for keeping OWD in the family—had shifted Pops’s focus. He’d been a little disappointed Chris hadn’t chosen to go about procreating in the old-fashioned way and that more children wouldn’t be forthcoming anytime soon, of course, but he’d been more than just a little pleased, anyway. In the past few years, Pops’s encouragement to get married had crossed the line into harping, so Chris knew Pops would see this as hope Chris did intend to settle down and have many more children—if not with Ally, then with someone else.
But it had shifted—at least temporarily—focus off the Dagny and the solo attempt.
He understood all too well where Pops’s concerns stemmed from, but sailing had come a long way in the last twenty years, and his father’s boat, the Fleece, had lacked many of the technological and safety features currently being installed on the Dagny. Yes, any attempt to sail solo around the world was dangerous, but the chances of him ending up like his father were considerably less.
Nope, no matter what Pops’s hopes and plans were, he’d still be making his announcement at the club’s annual gala on September tenth. That would be just enough time to get a buzz going before he set sail in October, but not so long that it lost its newsworthiness before it happened.
In the meanwhile, though, he still had to go over the shareholders’ reports. Resigned, but determined to get it done in the least amount of time possible, he dug into the stack of papers. Engrossed and concentrating, he didn’t know Marge had even entered his office until the large manila envelope landed on his desk.
“The courier from Dennison and Bradley dropped this by for you. Can I ask why that shark has been circling the office recently?”
Marge always referred to his grandfather’s attorney as “that shark.” Where the animosity came from, Chris didn’t know. Marge seemed to like everyone else in the world, but she always absented herself whenever Dennison came around and spoke disparagingly of him afterward.
“He’s taking care of a few things for me.” Opening the envelope, his copies of the papers served to Ally this morning slid out in a satisfying bulk of legalese.
“That’s what worries me.” Marge’s brows drew together in a concerned frown. Marge, too, had received the news of the baby with a mixture of joy and shock, and had tossed in an “Aren’t you glad you called her?” as well. But in the three days since he’d returned from Savannah and shared the news, Marge had hovered about, watching with great interest and asking vague, random questions about his plans. As she closed the office door and settled in the chair across from his desk, he assumed he was about to find out why.
Marge squared her shoulders and took a deep breath. “Your grandfather is going to either kill me or fire me but, either way, I’m not just going to stand by quietly again.”
He knew his grandfather would do no such thing, and he knew Marge knew it, as well. “Again?”
“It wasn’t my place to get involved before. I was still new here and figured there was a lot more going on than I knew about. But after seeing how it’s turned out…” Marge stopped and shook her head. “Porter talks to me, and he’s simply bubbling over with the idea of a great-grandchild. And if he’s called in that shark Dennison, he’s falling back on the same dirty tricks he and your father—God rest his soul—used years ago on your poor mother.”
“My poor mother?” It was all he could do not to laugh at the turn of phrase. “My mother got exactly what she wanted in the divorce—freedom.”
“And I’m telling you that wasn’t what Elise wanted at all. You were too young to understand at the time, but I’d hoped that over the years you would learn the truth. Maybe if Paul had lived, you would have found out, but after he died, Porter closed ranks around you even tighter than before. He’s basically a good man, so I always assumed his behavior was fueled by Paul’s anger and then later his own grief over Paul’s death. But now, I’m not so sure.”
He’d never heard Marge speak a single ill word about Pops, so the clipped words and barely concealed distaste in her voice came as a surprise. Her hesitancy to just spit out whatever was bothering her was also odd. Marge had practically raised him, and she’d never once held back. Obviously, whatever she was stewing about was important.
Marge wasn’t making a lot of sense, but she had his attention nonetheless. “Start at the beginning.”
“Your parents started off with a bang—all fireworks and excitement. Elise was sweet and shy and very sheltered, and she never stood a chance against Paul’s looks and charm and money—something I’m sure you’re familiar with, seeing as you’re him made over.” Marge’s stony facade cracked a little as she smiled at him with pride.
“But that’s neither here nor there.” She waved away the comment. “Unlike you, Paul never could be convinced to take an interest in the business, and Porter indulged his obsession with racing. Paul was always gone—another race, another title, other women—and your mother simply couldn’t continue to put up with it. All she wanted was a simple, amicable divorce.”
“Which my father gave her.”
Marge’s brows went up at the interruption. “At first, yes. Then a couple of years later she met that nice man and wanted to marry him. It wasn’t a problem until she told your father she’d be moving to California after the wedding and they’d need to work out a new custody agreement. I think that was the day your grandfather finally went gray-headed from the news. Your mother left here in tears. I’ll never forget it. Next thing I knew, that shark Dennison was in the mix and he buried your mother in restraining orders, custody papers and competency hearings. Money buys a lot of legal experts, and Elise wasn’t able to fight back.”
A vague memory stirred of his mother on the phone, holding papers in her hand and crying. He glanced at the stack of papers Dennison had drawn up, and guilt nibbled at him.
“I think you’re beginning to get my point. They just wore her down until she couldn’t fight them anymore. Then, to compound the issue, they let you think she’d willingly walked out of your life.”
No wonder Marge had been the one to comfort him after his mother had left. She’d known the reason why. He felt the slow burn of anger in his stomach, but there was nowhere to direct it. His father was dead. His mother was dead. Marge had done the best she could in the situation. And Pops…well, it was tough to stir up too much anger towards a seventy-year-old man who was all the family he really had left.
“All I’m saying, Chris, is that if those papers are what I think they are—and the look on your face tells me they are—then don’t. Don’t do to Ally and your child what was done to you. You can work this out. She doesn’t deserve it and your child deserves to have its mother.”
Marge sat back in the chair and folded her hands in her lap—the signal that she’d said her piece and was done. Now he was faced with a dilemma. He’d let his temper carry him to this point—Ally had been served with these same papers first thing this morning. At least he had Marge’s information before he had to talk to Ally about them and made the situation worse. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t had an angry phone call already. It was a lot to think about, and he needed to plan his next move carefully.
The intercom on his desk buzzed, and Grace cut in. “Mr. Chris, there’s a—Hey! Wait!” At the same moment, his office door burst open and Ally stood there, chest heaving and curls rioting around her head. She held a familiar manila envelope in one white-knuckled hand.
“You bastard! How dare you. You—” Anger choked off her words.
Grace was right behind her. “I’m sorry. I tried to stop her.”
Three women looked at him. Grace in apology, Marge in question and Ally…Well, he was just lucky looks couldn’t kill.
So much for time to think and plan.
It was a good thing she didn’t own a gun. It had taken a little while to figure out the legalese, but once the meaning of those papers had sunk in, fury consumed her. Even the unflappable Molly had been taken aback at the extent of the lawsuits.
That fury had only grown during the drive to Charleston, and she’d broken every speed limit in two states in her rush to confront Chris. Now that she was here, she was itching to do him physical harm, especially since he had the gall to look surprised to see her.
She couldn’t form words. Every phrase she’d practiced on the drive was trapped behind the anger choking her.
While the blond-haired assistant sputtered behind her, a matronly woman rose from the chair in front of Chris’s desk. As she turned, Ally saw both concern and, oddly, affection in her eyes.
“You must be Ally. You’re even lovelier in person.” The woman’s kind smile and gentle pat to Ally’s arm as she passed seemed surreal. “Let’s go, Grace.”
The older woman ushered the younger one out and closed the door behind her, leaving Ally alone with Chris, who looked remarkably calm and unperturbed for someone who’d just served enough legal papers on her to put that lawyer’s child through college with the expense.
“Would you like to sit?” Chris came around from behind his desk and gestured toward the chair the woman had just vacated.
Had she crossed into the freaking Twilight Zone? “I don’t know if I should. You’d probably use my decision to sit against me later.”
She couldn’t tell if the slight inclination of Chris’s head was meant to be mocking or conciliatory as he perched on the edge of the desk. The jerk.
“I expected I’d hear from you today. I kind of assumed you’d call, though.”
Molly had suggested the same thing, claiming distance would make it easier to deal with Chris and his outrageous demands. She’d been too mad to listen. “You questioned my competency, my fitness to be a parent. You’re demanding my medical records and serving me with an order to keep me from traveling outside Georgia or South Carolina, and you wonder why I came to confront you in person? Maybe we should be questioning your mental stability.”
“Actually, my attorney did all of that. I just told him I wanted my child and that you were unwilling to come to an agreement.”
How dare he try to blame her for this? “So you decided to serve all this—” she tossed the envelope onto the desk “—on me? It won’t work. I’m not going to let you take custody of this baby. I’ll fight you.”
“But you won’t win.”
A red haze clouded her vision, and she curled her hands into fists, her nails digging into her palms. “This is the twenty-first century. I have rights, and no judge in the universe would rule in your favor. I’m not incompetent.” She lifted her chin in defiance. That much she was sure of. She was the poster child of competency.
“Maybe not, but it’ll still cost you buckets of money to prove it.”
All the air left her lungs at his matter-of-fact pronouncement, but Chris just shrugged. “I hate to be the one to break this to you, but it doesn’t really matter if I can do half of what’s in that envelope. My lawyers will serve you with motion after motion, and you’ll be forced to respond to each one.”
The possibility of a long, legal battle sobered her. It wouldn’t matter if she was in the right; the repercussions would be horrific—not only on her, but on her family, on Molly, on the baby. Especially on the baby.
“Zillion-dollar endorsement deals will buy a lot of legal expertise, Ally.”
Dear God, he was right. She didn’t have the money to fight. She’d be bankrupt just responding to a fraction of the motions in that envelope. And if she couldn’t fight him, would he win simply by default? Her stomach dropped. She’d made a horrific mistake in angering him, and she’d walked straight into this mess with her pride and anger. But what could she do now?
Chris seemed to realize when that last thought crystallized for her. He indicated for her to sit again, and took the other chair. “Maybe now you’ll be more open to negotiation.”
Negotiation? Just the two of them? She looked carefully for the trap, but Chris’s face was the picture of friendliness and conciliation. Oh, she’d love to kill him. “You mean to tell me…You did this to…This was all just scare tactics?” Hesitant relief now mingled with her earlier anger, and the emotional toll left her drained as her head spun. As much as she’d like to turn on her heel and march out of there, she needed to sit.
“No, not just scare tactics. If we can’t come to a workable solution, I will do whatever it takes. Hopefully, it won’t come to that.”
She tried to sort her scrambled thoughts, but those blue eyes locked on hers didn’t help the process. She’d spent the past three days trying to figure out what to do, and she wasn’t any closer to a solution than she was when Chris had stormed off her front porch. Trying to balance what was right for the baby with what would be good for them both in the long run…Chris’s arrival had thrown all of her carefully made plans into the wind.
Then those papers had arrived and she hadn’t been able to think at all. Chris’s sudden willingness to be reasonable just brought back all of her earlier problems—this time coupled with the suspicion she wasn’t going to like these negotiations.
Anger had kept her not-just-in-the-morning sickness at bay so far today, but as it ebbed, nausea swept back in. She fumbled in her purse for the bag of saltine crackers stashed there. She nibbled slowly on one, grateful for the stalling tactic, as Chris frowned. Then he left, returning a minute later with a paper cup.
“Ginger ale. It should help.”
She nodded her thanks and sipped carefully. A few deep breaths later, her stomach settled some and the queasiness waned.
“I’m guessing discussing this over lunch is out of the question?”
Looking up, she saw a hint of laughter in those blue eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched. He found her nausea amusing, did he? Next time, she’d just let fly on his shoes. See how funny he thought that was. “I’ll stick with the crackers.”
Of course, sitting in Chris’s office with those horrible papers still on his desk waiting for him to tell her what he wanted from her wasn’t helping her stomach much, either. Chris certainly had the upper hand in this “negotiation,” and she knew it. You have no one to blame but yourself, her conscience nagged. You fired the opening shot. She needed to forget about her stomach and focus on keeping Chris reasonable—
“How’s your brother?”
The change in topic jarred her, and she looked at him blankly.
“Your brother got hurt. That’s why you left Tortola so suddenly, right?”
How’d he know that? “He’s fine now. He flipped a dirt bike in a race and it landed on him. He was banged up a bit, but Mom just did her usual freak-out and I had to come sort everything…” Don’t give him more ammunition to use against you later. Her batty family was a liability now. Great. She tried to shrug off the statement. “You know how moms are.”
Chris didn’t answer. Instead, he leaned back in the chair and crossed his legs at the ankles, looking far more relaxed than was at all fair, considering the emotional mess she was at the moment. “And you’re in business with your best friend. That’s interesting. You’re a bookkeeper, correct?”
These questions she could answer properly. Nothing about AMI could possibly be used against her later. “Bookkeeping and general accounting, payroll, taxes—we do it all. My degrees are in accounting and finance, and Molly is also a CPA.” She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. “We’ve been in business for six years now and we operate totally in the black. Our clientele continues to grow, and we’ve won several small business awards…” At Chris’s amused smile, she stopped. “What’s so funny?”
“This isn’t an interview. You don’t need to read me your résumé.”
Confusion reigned. “Then why did you ask?”
Chris sighed. “I’m trying to get to know you a bit better. We’re about to have a baby together, and we hardly know each other.” His eyebrow quirked up suggestively. “We didn’t spend much time talking before.”
In a flash, the memories of how they did spend their time hit her, and the muscles in her thighs tightened as the images caused a physical response. She hadn’t allowed her thoughts to go there since Chris had shown up so unexpectedly and turned her life upside down. But now they were alone, he was within arm’s reach, and he was smiling at her knowingly.
Argh. She tamped the memories down and focused on the moment. Chris wanted to play get-to-know-you games, but she wanted to get this over with so she could figure out what her next move should be. The suspense was killing her.
Just don’t antagonize him again. Be calm. Be diplomatic. “Can we get back to the matter at hand? I apologize for the other day, and obviously you do have a right to be a part of your baby’s life. I want to work this out amicably, but you have to tell me specifically what you’re after.” Proud of herself, she sat back in the chair.
Chris steepled his fingers and looked thoughtful. “You’re sure you don’t want to get married?”
Oh, God. “Positive,” she managed to choke out.
“It’s a simple, obvious solution.”
“And one that’s guaranteed to put us right back in this situation in a few years—only then, we’d be fighting out the divorce as well as custody arrangements.” She wasn’t ready to think about marriage to anyone—not now. She’d already had one narrow escape—a lucky one—but it had taken its toll. Plus, she wouldn’t be able to resist his golden-boy looks and charm forever, and then she’d be in real trouble when it all went to hell. “Like you just said, we barely know each other. Great sex is hardly a foundation for a good marriage.” Did I actually just bring up sex again? Damn.
Chris leaned forward in his chair, and now only inches separated them. Her pulse kicked up a notch and her skin grew warm. “Great sex? Try amazing, Ally.” One finger trailed down her arm, causing the hairs to rise. “And there are worse places to start. At least we know we’re compatible in that aspect.”
Compatible didn’t even begin to describe it. Her entire body was screaming for him now. She swallowed hard. “Chris, stop.” To her utter amazement and relief, he did, leaning back to put space between them. She took big gulping breaths of air to clear her mind, but his scent still hung in the air between them, and inhaling only made the sex-charged cloud worse.
Stay angry. Don’t let hormones confuse this issue.
But maybe she wasn’t the only one having a hard time pulling it together. Chris dragged a hand through his hair and shook his head as if to clear it. Then, blowing out his breath in a loud rush, he stood and extended a hand to her. “Come on. I’ll take you down to see the work on the Circe.”
Now what? She needed a map to keep up with him. “Why? We still need to ta—”
“We’re not going to find any solutions today, Ally, because we’re on opposite sides of the table. You’ve agreed that we barely know each other, so it seems the next logical step would be for us to get to know each other. We have some time before any decisions have to be set in stone, and it will make the whole process easier if we’re friends. So I’m going to take you to the yard and show you how the Circe is coming along.”
Chris stood there with his hand out to her, but she hesitated. After the roller-coaster ride she’d been on this morning, she didn’t trust herself to see clearly. She didn’t understand the mercurial changes of Chris’s attitudes, and she had a hard time keeping up. She wanted to believe he was sincere, but from the corner of her eye, she could still see the hateful envelopes on his desk. Of course, her traitorous body was on board for “friendliness” and anything else that might come from it, and her hormonally confused brain kept going back to that If Only game where everything had turned out differently. The tiny part of her mind that was still able to think rationally tried hard to tamp down the other emotions and feelings confusing her. It was enough to give her a pounding headache as she tried to figure out what to do.
Then Chris smiled at her, and the crinkles nearly did her in. He had a point—regardless of how they worked out the details, they were going to be attached to each other for the rest of their lives through this child.
Six weeks ago, she’d made a decision that had changed her life forever by sleeping with him. Now she had to decide how she wanted to go forward, and animosity wouldn’t be a good choice—for her or the baby. “You want this baby, don’t you?”
“Very much.”
Options. Decisions. She had to choose quickly. She was caught between Scylla and Charybdis, and ironically, the Circe was offering her a possible safe navigation through with minimal losses. She was slowly gaining a new—albeit grudging—respect for Odysseus.
But that didn’t mean she was going to just roll over. “Are you willing to phone your lawyer right now and call him off?”
“Yes. I’m willing to be reasonable as long as you are.”
“Do that first,” she said, putting her hand in his as she let him help her to her feet. “Then you can show me the Circe.”
“You’ve done an amazing job. She looks much better than she did.” Ally ran her hand over the new seats in the Circe’s cockpit. “And the cabin is going to be positively decadent—I guess her racing days really are over.”
The cavernous OWD workshop was usually alive with people and noise, but with most of the men gone to lunch at the moment, it echoed instead. Glad for the lack of an audience, Chris watched Ally carefully as she explored the dry-docked Circe. While she seemed to accept his offer of a truce, she was still wary.
Ally’s arrival, so hard on the heels of Marge’s revelations, had thrown him. But he was used to thinking fast on his feet, making the most of whatever opportunity came his way, and he was secretly quite pleased with how quickly he’d managed to adapt the situation to suit him.
Dennison hadn’t been pleased to get the phone call and had tried to convince him to reconsider, but Chris was now hopeful he and Ally could work this out. Therefore, he concentrated on repairing what little relationship he had with Ally.
As she sat back in the cockpit and gave the tiller an experimental push, Chris assessed his options. While he’d originally floated the idea of marriage halfheartedly, it had oddly taken on new appeal. Marriage had never been on his radar before, and it would certainly solve a lot of problems. Ally was smart and beautiful, and she was already carrying their child. They got along well enough—especially in bed. Successful marriages had been built on a lot less.
The thought of Ally in bed led to the thought of Ally in the ocean, Ally on the beach, Ally on the trampoline of the cata-maran…his entire body grew hard at the memories. Oh, yes, they were certainly more than compatible there.
“What’s that one called?”
Ally’s question brought him back to the matter at hand. He looked where she pointed at the yacht dwarfing the Circe. “That’s the Dagny. It means ‘new day.’”
“And it’s a racing yacht? It’s awfully big.”
“Ninety-six feet, but designed to go long distances very quickly with only a one-man crew. I’d offer to take you aboard, but Jack is a little possessive of the Dagny at the moment.”
“Jack?”
“A cousin who designs all of Team Wells’s racers. The Dagny is his latest pride and joy.”
“And how far is a ‘long distance’? I mean, I would have considered Tortola to Charleston a pretty long distance but the Circe made it, and she’s tiny in comparison.”
He laughed. “I said the Dagny would cover long distances quickly. The Circe might make it around the world, but not in any reasonable amount of time.”
Ally looked at him strangely. “That’s what you’re planning to do? Sail the Dagny around the world? Alone?”
“And break the record at the same time.”
“Wow.” She sat quietly, her brow furrowed as she thought. “How long does that take?”
“If I’m going to break the record, less than sixty days.”
The furrows got deeper. “Oh.”
“Ally? Is everything okay?”
The frown lines disappeared as she brightened and plastered a smile across her face that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m just trying to reconcile this Chris with the one I met on Tortola.”
“Same guy.” He grinned at her.
“Not exactly.”
“But close enough.”
“Maybe.”
She fell silent, tracing the pattern on the seat cushions with a finger, and he wondered what she was thinking about. In the silence, Ally’s stomach growled. Loudly.
She blushed, placing a hand over her stomach. “Excuse me. I haven’t eaten much today—between the morning sickness and, well, everything else that happened.”
He stood. “Then I get the chance to feed you, after all. Let’s go.”
Ally hesitated. “Um, I should probably head home….”
He’d almost forgotten Ally’s overly cautious nature, but even coupled with what she euphemistically called “everything else,” he didn’t realize he’d have to coerce her just to get her to have a meal with him. Of course, she was probably still a bit distrustful of his motives, but they had to get past that if they were going to work anything out. And if he’d learned anything as the captain of Team Wells, it was how to build a crew. Food helped.
“I never did get to take you out for a meal before, so I think I’m due. You need to eat, the baby needs to eat, and I haven’t had lunch, either.”
Her brow started to furrow again, but she seemed to catch it in time and shrugged instead. “You’re right. Food would be good. Just not Mexican.”
He jumped to the ground as Ally carefully descended the ladder propped against the Circe’s hull. Reaching up, he grasped her waist to guide her down the rungs and felt a tremor run through her. Like an electrical current, it vibrated through his fingers and shot through his veins, and he was loath to let her go when her feet finally touched ground.
Ally didn’t turn around, and his fingers tightened on her as the heat of her skin seeped through the thin cotton of her dress. He remembered the feeling. Obviously so did she.
With her back to him, those wild curls tickled his face, the fresh citrus smell of her filling his nose and warming his blood. Experimentally, he moved his thumbs in small circles and another shiver shook her. Only inches separated them. If she’d just lean back a little…
Voices filled the room, chasing the silence away as the men returned from lunch, and Ally stepped away.
As she faced him, he noted the flags of color on her cheeks and the way her teeth worried her lower lip. Ally might be angry with him or wary of him or any other number of things, but she wasn’t immune to him.
Satisfied with that knowledge for the moment, he allowed her the space she seemed to need to get herself back under control.
“I think—I mean we…Um, I, uh, guess…” She blew out a deep breath and brushed her hair away from her face. “Let’s just go, okay?”
She turned on her heel and took two steps in the direction of the door before she stopped. The Dagny was right in front of her, and she looked at it carefully, her eyes tracing over the rigging before returning to the three hulls of the trimaran. Her mouth twisted briefly and she nodded, almost imperceptibly, before she set her shoulders and turned back to him.
Her smile—a real one, this time—snared him. “Are you coming? I’m hungry.”
CHAPTER SEVEN (#ulink_eb585f98-66cd-52da-b6d1-310ce593210b)
“AND AFTER THAT, everything went fine. We had a nice lunch, and I came home.” She’d been too tired to do much more than send a quick text to Molly last night, so Ally brought her up to speed on the revelations of yesterday while they tackled the much overdue and mindless chore of filing.
“You certainly seem in better spirits this morning.”
“My breakfast stayed down, so that was a nice way to start the day.”
“That’s not what I mean.”
“I know.” Ally grinned. “But it’s still good news, right?”
“You just seem to be in a really good mood for someone who still has the threat of a massive, ugly legal battle looming over her.”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Obviously not.”
“Dagny.”
“It’s a boat. It’s what the man does for a living. I don’t see the connection.”
“Okay, pay attention. Chris got all upset over the news of the baby, then I escalate that by handling the situation badly, too. Like any man, he had to fight back.”
“And he used the big guns.”
“The biggest. But right now, this is still fresh news for Chris. That will fade. At this very moment, even with impending fatherhood on the horizon, he’s still planning on going off on this around-the-world race thing. We talked about it a lot yesterday, and he’s bordering on obsessed with it. That, and rehabbing the Circe. After that, there’ll be another race and another boat vying for his attention. He’ll lose interest in me and the baby soon enough—between the distance and everything he has to do for this race, we’re not going to be high on his radar—and by the time the baby gets here, Chris will have figured out that he doesn’t want to be tied down with a child.” Ally closed the file drawer with a satisfying bang. “He’ll have moved on. Maybe we’ll work out some kind of settlement to salve his conscience or some visitation plans or something, but I guarantee he’ll tire of this baby stuff soon enough.”
“You sound pretty sure of that.”
“Molls, racing is everything to him. He only works in the shipyard to make his grandfather happy. Wandering feet and an adventurous soul don’t exactly equal Father of the Year. Look at my brother. Diane’s been slow coming around to this simple fact, but even she’s starting to realize that Steven will never marry her and settle down.” Hungry again, she dug in her desk drawer and found an apple. Biting into it, she savored the taste and the lack of roiling nausea. “Nope, all I have to do is just bide my time and ride this out and Kiddo and I will be fine.”
Molly’s shoulders relaxed. “I’m glad to hear that. Oh, and by the way, the Kriss brothers are coming by Monday to work up an estimate on your new office.”
“Excellent.” And she meant it. After the upheaval of this week, she was finally feeling as if she had things back under control. TGIF indeed. She had about a thousand things she needed to do today. She’d been next to worthless most of the week, and poor Molls hadn’t been able to pick up all of the slack, but her to-do list was manageable, if long, and without continual distractions she’d be able to get caught up and still enjoy the weekend.
But she found it hard to concentrate. The radio played softly, Molly’s keyboard clicked away in the background, and the phones were silent, yet she couldn’t seem to make the columns of numbers on her screen add up properly. After two hours of working on the same account, she’d made little headway, and she closed the file in disgust. She did mundane things instead—balanced her brother’s checkbook, renewed her father’s fishing license—but those simple chores didn’t require much of her attention.
Her e-mail inbox was empty—since Erin had kicked her out of the wedding, she was no longer forced to referee the ongoing battles between her mom and her sister over caterers and flowers—and the lack of family drama felt odd. Maybe that was why she was unable to focus; she wasn’t used to working without constant interruptions.
She’d certainly have plenty of interruptions once Kiddo arrived. The thought made her smile. She should enjoy the peace while it lasted—Erin couldn’t stay mad at her forever, Steven would do something else stupid soon enough, and she’d be back in the mix. Plus, with two new babies in the family…
She shook her head to clear it and reopened the file from earlier. Focus. It took her another hour to find the mistake, and she was relieved to see it was the client’s error, not one caused by her inattention.
When the phone rang, she jumped on the distraction eagerly.
“Hi, Ally.” Her heartbeat accelerated at the sound of that now-familiar baritone, before she reminded herself she didn’t need to panic. She only needed to humor him.
She tried for an upbeat, noncommittal tone. “Hi, Chris. What’s up?”
“I’m done for the day and should be headed that way in another hour or so. Can you be ready by six?”
“Six?” She nearly choked on the word. “Ready for what?”
“Dinner.”
“You want to go to dinner?” Her voice sounded strangled and Molly looked over, eyebrows raised in question.
Chris chuckled, and the sound did strange things to her already confused insides. “I’d heard forgetfulness was a side effect of pregnancy, but really, Ally. I told you I’d call and we’d go to dinner.”
“I didn’t know you meant tonight.” Every other male on the planet waits at least a week before they call—if they call at all.
“Do you have other plans or something?”
Lie. Tell him you’re busy. “Um, well…”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at your place at six. Bye, Ally.”
She was still sputtering her refusal when the line went dead. She placed the phone in its cradle and buried her head in her hands.
“What was that about?”
Ally didn’t bother to look up. “He’s taking me to dinner tonight.”
She heard something that sounded suspiciously like a snort from Molly. “So much for staying below the radar.”
“Molls…” Lifting her head, she saw a smirk playing at the corners of Molly’s mouth. “This is not good.”
This is not good was rapidly becoming her mantra. She left work a little early and took a nap, waking up still groggy an hour later. Cold water splashed on her face helped wake her up a bit, but the fatigue still grabbed at the edges of her mind.
Molly’s lecture about the importance of appearing keen on Chris’s ideas—for the time being, at least—echoed in her head as she pulled on a simple skirt and a sleeveless silk shirt. After clipping her unruly hair at the nape of her neck, she tried to add some color to her pale face. Deciding it wasn’t going to get much better, she took one last critical look in the mirror before turning off the bathroom light.
She still had a few minutes before Chris was due to arrive, so she booted up her laptop and took it to the couch. She typed Chris’s name into the search engine, but hesitated over the enter key.
Part of her still didn’t want to know. She’d convinced herself weeks ago that the less she knew about Chris the better off she’d be. But that had backfired in her face. Molly had been more than willing to play research assistant, but Ally had held her off, still undecided about how much she did want to know. Even last night, after she’d returned from Charleston, she’d purposefully left the computer turned off, willing to just ride this out. But now, with Chris headed to her door, seemingly serious about this get-to-know-you game, she had no choice but to learn everything she could about him.
Taking a deep breath she hit Enter, and seconds later Google returned its list.
The impressiveness of Chris’s accomplishments floored her. From his earliest races when he was still in his teens to his most recent win, Chris had racked up an impressive résumé around the world. It didn’t seem to matter where or what kind of boat he raced, he rarely lost, and never finished lower than third place. It seemed Wells Racing had several teams, and while Chris captained their most successful one, he also oversaw the entire racing operation.
OWD Shipyard built a variety of yachts—not just the ones Chris sailed—and their designs were popular all over the world. From what she could find, Chris had his hands in that aspect of the business, as well.
Oh, and here was a mention of Chris meeting with the OWD stockholders in his grandfather’s place. And look, he ran summer camps for inner-city kids to learn sailing, and donated huge chunks of cash to environmental causes.
Good God, when did the man sleep? How on earth had he found the time to go to Tortola and sail the Circe home? Of all the men in the world she could have hooked up with, how had she, of all people, found the one who just happened to be the world’s only zillionaire businessman/champion racer/philanthropist paragon? It boggled the mind.
Remembering their discussion yesterday, she added “world solo record” to her search terms to narrow the results. Google returned very few this time. While several sites speculated Chris would one day attempt to do it—and most likely break the record in the process—none seemed to know that plans were in the works to do just that.
The last link on the page had a very odd headline, and Ally clicked through. The Charleston Gazette must have put all of their archives online because the date on the article was close to twenty years ago. She scanned the first few lines quickly and almost closed the window before the impact of the words sunk in. Carefully, she started over again.
After an intensive nine-day search, rescuers have located the boat of missing sailor Paul Wells floating abandoned ten miles off the coast of Darwin, Australia. Based on the heavy damage to the hull, rescuers believe Wells, who was attempting to break the solo circumnavigation world record, perished in recent storms in the Timor Sea. Wells was a native of Charleston and is survived by his father, Porter Wells, and his eleven-year-old son, Chris.
A rock landed in her stomach. Chris wanted to attempt the same stunt that had killed his father? Was the man insane?
Wait, hadn’t Chris told her before that sailboat racing wasn’t all that dangerous? “It’s hard to kill yourself,” he’d said. She changed her search terms to give her more information about solo circumnavigation, and from the results it seemed it wasn’t all that hard to die after all.
Great. The father of her child had a death wish. Maybe that’s why he was so keen on claiming this baby—he’d have a piece of immortality in case his boat sank in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.
That thought made her a little sick.
The doorbell rang and she quickly shut down the laptop before she went to answer it. Taking a deep breath to prepare herself, she opened the door to Chris.
Who looked so good the air in her lungs came out in a painful rush.
With the sun behind him, he seemed surrounded in a golden glow. A black T-shirt hugged those strong shoulders and skimmed over the planes of his chest before disappearing into the waistband of low-slung faded jeans. He grinned, and her heart melted a little as her senses sprang to life. This was the Chris she’d flipped for, and her body definitely remembered him. He leaned in to give her an innocent peck on the cheek in greeting, but even that brief touch of his mouth burned her.
“Come on in.” Ally stepped back to allow him to pass as she tried to compose herself. How different this time was from Monday when he’d been here, so angry the air around him had nearly burned from the heat. Today he seemed comfortable, almost relaxed.
Well, at least one of them should be, and it wasn’t shaping up to be her. With a sigh, she closed the door behind him.
“You look great, Ally. Are you hungry?”
“Starved.” Amazingly enough, she was, but she would’ve lied if necessary. Her living room usually seemed open and spacious, but Chris seemed to fill it completely, making her overly aware of him and creating an uncomfortable feeling of intimacy.
“Then let’s go.” Chris reached for her hand, and the touch of his hand sent a shiver through her. Yesterday she’d chalked up her immediate physical reaction to his touch as a simple aberration—something to do with all of those pregnancy hormones sweeping through her—but the repeat of the sensation today underscored her need to keep him at arm’s length.
Literally.
But he made that extremely difficult to accomplish. He kept touching her—to help her out of the car, to guide her as they walked, to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind her ear—and her nerves were a complete jangle by the time they reached the restaurant on the riverfront.
Chris made small talk, and although her mind kept wandering to deeper places, she managed to keep up her end of the conversation. At the restaurant Chris sat opposite her, and finally she had enough distance to begin to incrementally relax.
A drink would have helped, but when Chris waved away the wine list, she remembered it would be a long while before alcohol touched her lips again. She’d have to find her courage outside of a bottle.
“I brought you a present.” Chris slid a small black box across the table.
Jewelry. Jewelry came in boxes like that. “That’s really not necessary.” She scooted the box back to his side of the table.
“Yes, it is. It’s what men do when they’re trying to impress a lady.”
She thought about Gerry and muttered, “Not the men that I know.”
“Then you know a sorry class of men. No wonder you dumped your ex.”
She looked up sharply to see if he was teasing. The look on his face didn’t help her any there. “The fact he was sleeping with someone else had a lot to do with it.”
Chris nodded sagely. “Then he wasn’t only sorry, he was stupid, as well. I don’t know what you ever saw in him.”
That comment brought a laugh and suddenly the wariness lifted. “Me, neither.”
He pushed the box back to her. “Then open your present.”
Sliding off the red and white ribbon, Ally pulled the lid off carefully. Inside, nestled against black velvet, she found a circular gold disk attached to a delicate chain. Holding the disk to the light, she could see the design: two lions rampant, flanking a pillar.
“It’s beautiful.” From the twitch of his lips, she realized she was missing something. “Okay then, tell me what it means.”
“I thought you said you were a mythology geek. It’s the symbol of Rhea.”
Rhea, mother of the Titans, the goddess of female fertility and motherhood. Rather appropriate, considering. “Of course. Those are the lions that pull her chariot.” She ran her thumb over the design. “I’ve never seen anything like it before. It’s lovely. Thank you.”
Before she realized it, Chris was behind her, seemingly uncaring of the curious stares of the other patrons as he took the necklace from her fingers and placed it around her neck. The disk settled perfectly in the hollow between her breasts. His fingers brushed lightly against her nape as he fastened the clasp. The touch was gone as quickly as it had come, and Chris returned to his seat.
His eyes moved over her like a caress. “It suits you.”
The words and appreciative stare caused her face to heat, and she was very thankful for the dim lighting in the restaurant and the well-timed arrival of their server with their food.
As they ate, the conversation moved easily through current events, how she was feeling, and the book she was reading before Chris casually mentioned something about the Dagny that gave her the opening she needed.
She tried to keep her tone light. “It’s a really ambitious goal, but isn’t sailing around the world by yourself a bit dangerous?”
Chris set his drink down slowly and looked at her strangely. A moment later he nodded in understanding. “You’ve been doing some research. It was an accident. It’s not likely to happen again.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact…” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.
“That my father died doing the same thing?” he provided for her.
“Exactly.” She pushed her plate away, suddenly not hungry any longer.
“Things have changed a lot in the last twenty years, Ally. We’ve come long way. GPS systems, automatic emergency beacons, satellite communication, improved ship design—it’s very unlikely anything catastrophic will happen.”
He sounded so calm and sure about it. She wanted to smack some sense into him. “But from what I’ve read, there’s at least a thousand easy ways to die out there.”
“Concerned, Ally? I’m flattered. Just yesterday you would’ve been pleased to hear of my possible imminent demise.”
“That’s not funny.” Maybe a little bit true, but still not funny.
Chris shrugged. “Don’t worry, though. Should I be lost at sea or eaten by sharks, you and the baby will still be well taken care of.”
For the first time that day, nausea rolled through her stomach. It must have shown on her face, because Chris leaned forward to take her hand, concern pulling down the corners of his mouth. “Hey, I’m just kidding about the eaten-by-sharks bit. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I don’t see how you can treat this so lightly.”
“I’m not. Trust me when I tell you the Dagny is the safest, most well-built ship on the planet, and I don’t plan to take unnecessary risks.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles, soothing her. “I need to do this—not only for me, but for my dad and the company, too. But you don’t need to worry about it. I fully intend to make it home in one piece.”
I’m sure your father had the same intention. She didn’t say the thought aloud. After all, she really didn’t have any business getting involved in his plans. She shouldn’t have brought it up in the first place.
The light brush of his thumb increased in pressure until he was practically massaging her fingers. The mood was getting too tense and his touch too familiar. To break it, she mimicked his earlier tone. “Then I’ll just cross my fingers you don’t end up as shark bait.”
“I appreciate that,” he said wryly.
At that tentative understanding, Chris signaled for the check. As he paid, Ally nibbled on her thumbnail and wondered why she cared so much all of a sudden.
Ally had to be the most incomprehensible woman he’d ever met. It could be downright frustrating at times to try to figure her out. The upside, of course, was that she was utterly fascinating. Her moods changed rapidly and without warning, like a squall rising from nowhere, but that unpredictability was part of her allure.
And that allure was becoming increasingly impossible to resist.
He wanted her. Intensely. It didn’t seem to matter whether she was spitting fire in his direction or trying to freeze him out, his body burned for her. From the moment he’d met her on Tortola, she’d been a craving he couldn’t seem to satisfy.
Wanting her had gotten him into this situation, and eventually—in spite of her objections—he and Ally would have to come to a workable solution, even if right now they were in complete disagreement as to what that solution would entail. The idea of marriage had grown on him, but Ally still seemed dead set against that. He’d have to convince her differently. Sex might work in his favor there—after all, he knew she wanted him, too, and it might be just the right angle to work. Logic argued he should take this slow, win her over the old-fashioned way, but logic wasn’t controlling him at the moment.
He wanted her. Pure and simple.
Now, preferably.
Ally kept a careful distance as she walked beside him to the parking lot. If she only knew what was running through his mind…
She seemed lost in thought on the short drive back to her place, occasionally biting a fingernail as she stared out of the window at the darkness. He was still easing the car into a space in front of her house when she had her seat belt unbuckled and her hand on the door.
“Thank you for dinner. And the lovely necklace. I’ll see you—”
Nice try. “I’ll walk you up.”
Ally seemed poised to argue, but she did wait for him to come around and assist her from the car. At the front door, she put her key in the lock and tried again.
“Good night.”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Chris. Let’s just take this one step at a time. No need to rush things.”
He stepped closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating off her and see her eyes darken. “Who’s rushing?”
Ally stepped back a pace, the door blocking a further retreat. “I’m not stupid, Chris.”
Her hair had escaped its clip again, and he caught the lock that trailed over her shoulder, winding it around his finger. “I never claimed you were.”
Ally stammered as her breathing picked up pace. “We…we…we can’t just pick back up where we left off. Everything is diff-different now.” Even as she spoke, her hand slid gently over his forearm, belying her words. “There’re so many complications…”
“It’s not that complicated at all.” He shivered as her hand worked its way over his chest, coming to rest over his pounding heart. He traced a finger along the stubborn curve of her jaw, and she lifted her chin, putting her mouth only inches from his. “This is pretty simple.”
Ally lifted her eyes from his mouth and met his gaze. The hunger there rocked him. A second later she rose on tiptoe, and the hand on his chest slid to his nape. “I’m probably going to regret this.”
Her lips landing on his blocked his response, and as she fitted her body against him his argument died in the flames that stroked him.
This he remembered all too well. The inferno Ally stoked in him. The feel of her mouth moving hotly under his. The taste of her as his tongue swept inside her mouth to explore. The little moan that vibrated through her as his hands slid over her back and pulled her tightly against him.
The sound of a car passing penetrated the sensual haze Ally wove around him, bringing his attention back to the fact that they were on her porch, providing a show for the neighborhood. He reached behind her, found the key still hanging in the lock and pushed the door open. Ally stumbled backward, pulling him over the threshold, and he was able to kick the door closed with a foot.
In the half-light and privacy of her living room, Ally’s kiss deepened, turning carnal with need. Her hands tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his jeans and over his head, and her hands slid over his skin, causing his muscles to contract at her touch. He worked the buttons of her shirt quickly, and it slithered to the floor.
Ally broke the kiss and stepped back. Even in the dim light, he could see the flush on her chest and the rise and fall of her breasts with each shallow breath. With a long look that scorched him, she reached for his hand and led him down the hall.
CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_ebbed7f3-e3ba-5574-bc8d-ee2502859468)
YOU’RE CRAZY. SEND HIM HOME. Don’t do this. Her conscience hammered the words at her as she led Chris the short distance down the hallway. Her whole body was alive, though, for the first time since she’d left Tortola, and the electric hum thrumming through her easily outweighed any arguments her brain might want to put forth.
Chris had a pull on her she didn’t quite understand, but now wasn’t the time to try to work it out. The light in his eyes and the promise in his kiss were irresistible, and she really didn’t care about tomorrow’s complications tonight.
It wasn’t as if she could end up pregnant or anything.
Chris traced a finger gently down the line of her spine as she walked, and goose bumps rose on her skin. His hand splayed across her back. Two more steps and they were in her room, the bed beckoning.
He caught her shoulders and pulled her against him. The skin of her back met the hard planes of his chest as he nipped the sensitive skin of her neck. Warm hands smoothed around her waist to massage circles on her stomach before moving up to allow his thumbs to graze tantalizingly over the flesh spilling over the cups of her bra.
Her breasts were more sensitive these days, and the exquisite sensation had her grasping at his thighs for support. Her fingers dug into the denim as he increased the pressure and circled a finger around the hard point of her nipple. Her head fell back against his shoulder, allowing him greater access, and the heat of his breath tickled her ear.
She moaned as he slid her straps off her shoulders, and her breasts were released into his hands. Chris murmured in appreciation as he teased her aching nipples, causing her to writhe against him.
One hand on her stomach held her in place as he moved his hips against her, his erection pressing insistently against the curve of her bottom. The other hand inched her cotton skirt upward to the tops of her thighs, and she hissed as Chris’s fingers slipped beneath the lace edge of her panties and found her.
She exploded almost immediately at his touch, bucking hard against his hand as the orgasm moved endlessly through her. Chris whispered words of erotic encouragement in her ear, fanning the flames, until she sagged against him, her trembling legs no longer able to support her weight.
He turned her then, his mouth moving over hers hungrily, stealing her breath, as he made quick work of her remaining clothes. Ally cursed her numb fingers as she fumbled with his straining zipper, the need to touch him overwhelming. When it finally released, she hooked her hands in his waistband, drawing his clothes downward as she sank to her knees.
Chris’s hands threaded through her hair, massaging her scalp as she took him into her mouth. She heard his sharp hiss of pleasure as she ran her tongue over his hard length, and his fingers tightened.
In two quick moves, Ally found herself between the soft bed and Chris’s hard body, and every erotic dream she’d had in the past six weeks came true as he slid into her and sighed her name.
The husky sound of her name on his lips caused her to open her eyes. While the shadows of the room cast hollows around his features, she could see the intensity in his eyes as he moved against her, pushing her to another release.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders as she held on, greedy for what he could give her, and when the tremors began, he redoubled his efforts, holding her hips firmly and picking up the pace. She arched as the pleasure turned too intense, only vaguely aware that the sounds she heard came from her as she went over the edge. From a distance, she heard Chris groan as he gathered her close and stiffened, and time seemed to freeze as he held her while the aftershocks moved through them.
Chris’s breathing was harsh in her ears and his heart thumped heavily against her chest. Ally chased after her scattered thoughts, refusing to listen to the small voice in her head saying, This is where you belong.
She’d given in to the sensual pull of Chris, knowing full well it would only complicate their situation further. The intimacy of Chris, in her bed holding her while her heartbeat slowed to normal, unnerved her, but even as she worried, her fingers toyed with the fine hairs at his nape, loving the feel of him against her again.
After one last deep, shuddering sigh, Chris rolled to his back, pulling her with him to pillow her head on his chest. His fingers combed through her tangled curls as she listened to the even thump of his heart.
The silence wasn’t quite a comfortable one, and the longer it stretched out, the more tense Ally became, the wonderful afterglow evaporating as quickly as the moisture on her skin.
Fatigue was catching up with her, fuzzing her brain as she tried to think. Was he planning to stay the night? He certainly didn’t seem in any rush to move. Should she let him stay or usher him to the door? If she let him stay, it would only make things much more difficult later.
Yeah, because I don’t want to get too used to having him around.
“Chris,” she whispered, only to be interrupted by her own jaw-cracking yawn.
Chris’s hand circled on her back until she completed the yawn and tried again. “Shh. Just sleep now. We’ll talk later.”
We should talk now, she told herself, even as her brain latched onto the idea of sleep and the weight pulled on her. But the soothing caress of Chris’s hands was too much to resist, and she started to slip away. But this is really nice, too, her body told her, already relaxing against him.
Just don’t get used to it, she reminded herself.
Ally’s breathing deepened, evening out as she slept, each exhale sliding across his bare chest like a caress. She talked in her sleep, mumbles he couldn’t understand. He tried to pick up a word here and there, but nothing she said made sense.
It would be too easy if, like in a movie, she’d tell me everything I needed to know while she was asleep. Insight into her thought process would help. A lot.
He knew Ally was humoring him, to a certain extent, simply because of the leverage his legal team gave him. He could tell by the wary look she couldn’t quite hide completely. But her response to him tonight hadn’t just been an attempt to play along. Passion had brought down that wall, revealing the Ally he remembered, and at least while she slept, she couldn’t argue with him.
Ally turned over and snuggled her back up against his side. Pushing up onto his elbow, he curved around her, spooning her to his chest. She sighed deeply in response.
Chris smoothed a hand down her arm and over her stomach, stopping at the flat plane beneath her navel.
Their child was right under his hand.
Something primal swept through him—a feeling of possessiveness, a need to protect. Slowly, an inkling of what had driven his father to battle his mother so ferociously dawned on him. It didn’t make what he had done right—far from it—but Chris was starting to understand the sentiment.
He didn’t want to fight Ally. To drag her and their child through the courts until one or all of them were destroyed by the process.
Ally mumbled in her sleep, and it brought a smile to his face. He was making the right decision; he knew that for certain now.
He closed his eyes, his hand still in place, rising and falling slightly with Ally’s breath. As he drifted toward sleep, he realized that, unlike for his father, that primal feeling extended to his child’s mother, too.
Ally woke to the smell of bacon. It didn’t make sense to her groggy brain. Her mom knew better than to drop by early in the morning or without warning, so it must be the neighbors upstairs. Why did they have to be so loud on a Saturday morning…
She rolled over, intending to put a pillow over her head and go back to sleep, but the mess of covers on the other side of the bed reminded her she hadn’t slept alone last night.
That memory caused her to sit up as the details fought for notice: a pair of men’s shoes on the floor by the door; her bra hanging drunkenly off the back of a chair; the noise and aroma coming from her kitchen…
Chris was still here. And he was now cooking breakfast.
She nibbled her thumbnail, unsure how she felt about that. One thing was for sure—she wasn’t going to take the risk of facing him naked with bedhead. She padded quickly to the bathroom, grabbed a robe and did her best to make herself presentable. She came out, still knotting the robe, just as Chris stuck his head around the corner.
“I thought I heard you.” His shirt was a bit wrinkled from a night on the floor, and a dark shadow traced his jaw, but he still looked too good for her equilibrium to handle. Especially when he grinned like that. “Are you hungry?”
After so many weeks of morning sickness, the absence of nausea felt strange. Maybe she was finally getting past it. Thank goodness. She nodded and let Chris lead her into the sunshine-lit kitchen.
She loved her kitchen. She loved to cook. But never in the three years she’d lived here had anyone cooked for her, so the neatly set table for two caught her off guard. It was a very simple breakfast, just bacon, toast and fruit with a cup of tea steaming invitingly on the side.
A lump rose in her throat. Chris had made her breakfast.
She tried to clear the lump. “It smells wonderful. Thank you.”
Chris just grinned at her again as he moved through her kitchen with ease, bringing milk and jam to the table. “I tried to keep it simple, as I wasn’t sure how the whole morning-sickness thing was going.”
“I think I’m getting over it. I’m certainly starving today.”
“Then eat.” He slid several strips of bacon onto her plate before sitting back to sip his coffee. The bacon was extra crispy without being burnt—just the way she liked it.
“You’re a good cook.”
Chris accepted the compliment with a nod of his head. Ally didn’t know what to say next. On the rare mornings Gerry had gotten up anywhere close to breakfast time, he’d read the paper while eating, claiming mornings were too early for civilized conversation. Since he’d moved out, she’d taken up the newspaper habit herself for lack of anyone to talk to. What did people talk about at breakfast?
Chris picked up the conversational ball, but as he asked, “When’s your next doctor’s appointment?” she wished for a different topic.
“End of this month. They’ll do the first ultrasound then.”
“I’ll be there. Just e-mail me the time and place.”
“You don’t have to—”
“But I want to, Ally.”
She nodded as she buttered her toast. “So when are you heading back to Charleston?”
One eyebrow went up. “Eager to get rid of me?”
Not at all. Where had that come from? Even with the slight awkwardness she felt, she kind of liked having him here, doing something simple and homey like eating breakfast. Don’t get used to it, she reminded herself. “You’re welcome to stay, but surely you have other things to do.”
“I do have to leave in a little bit. I have a club meeting this afternoon.” Much to her surprise, it wasn’t relief she felt at his words. If she was going to be honest with herself, she’d have to call that sinking feeling disappointment.
Chris leaned forward, his eyes lighting up. “There’s a race next Saturday—a short one just for fun and bragging rights. Would you like to come?”
Ally chewed her bite of bacon slowly, stalling for time. Chris was trying to include her in his life, and she got the feeling that inviting her to a race was a milestone of sorts. Maybe he really did want this to work out between them. Her chest expanded at the thought, and that raised an even bigger question.
Did she?
She could be her normal, cautious, rational self, or she could be the adventurous Ally she’d discovered on Tortola. Normal Ally said to keep her distance and stay safe; adventurous Ally wanted to take the chance, enjoy whatever came her way for as long as she could.
Good Lord, she was becoming as crazy as her family.
Chris reached over casually to refill her mug, and the simple gesture warmed her, making her feel she was making the right decision. “I’d love to see you race.”
His grin confirmed it.
Her phone rang, disturbing the coziness of the moment. Chris handed her the cordless handset from the counter, and she glanced at the caller ID. She set the phone down and picked up her tea instead. At Chris’s questioning look, she shrugged. “It’s my mom. I knew the silence was too good to last. Let the machine get it.”
A chuckle was his only response, but it was soon drowned out by her mom’s voice.
“Ally, honey, where are you? You haven’t called in days. You can’t still be upset at Erin. I know she hurt your feelings, but it is her wedding, you know.”
Ally rolled her eyes.
“Just be thankful your sister is nothing like mine. Now, lunch has been pushed back to one-thirty tomorrow, and I need you to stop by the store and get the wine. With everything going on today, I just don’t have the time. I swear, your grandmother is going to put me in an early grave…”
Ally walked across the room and turned the volume down on the machine. Chris did not need to hear her mother carrying on about the crisis of the day. “That could take a while. I’ll listen to the rest later.”
“I take it Erin is your sister, but why would you be upset with her?”
Ally tried to think of a tactful way to put it, but came up empty-handed. “She kicked me out of her wedding.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ll be seven months pregnant at the time.”
Chris frowned. “I know this is your family we’re talking about, but isn’t that…”
“Selfish? Self-centered? Slightly sanctimonious?”
Chris leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. “Well, I wasn’t going to say it.”
“Erin’s turned into a Bridezilla over this wedding. I’m kinda glad to have an excuse to be out of the fray.”
“And you’re expected to have lunch with her tomorrow?”
Ally returned to her chair and poked at her fruit. “The Sunday family lunch. Isn’t it a time-honored tradition for every family?” She sighed.
“You don’t sound too keen on that tradition.”
“As I’m sure you’ve gathered by now, my family is a little bit nutty. They’re not happy unless they’re driving me insane.” Ally wanted to take the words back the moment they left her mouth. She’d gotten so cozy with Chris this morning, she’d forgotten her need to keep her crazy family under wraps.
“I understand the feeling.”
That got her attention. “Seriously?”
“I can’t sympathize completely because I don’t have siblings, but I do have several cousins. And Pops can be over-the-top sometimes.” The corner of his mouth curved upward. “Families drive everyone insane. It’s just part of the package.”
“Well, my family has a jumbo-size package of crazy going on. It’s almost like they try to outdo each other.”
“Is your mom a good cook?”
Ally nearly choked. “Are you angling for an invite to lunch?”
“I should probably meet them at some point—we are about to be related, after all. Plus, you shouldn’t have to bring the wine since you can’t drink it.”
Related. Chris said it so offhandedly, like it was a foregone conclusion. Technically he was right, but it still sounded like something else entirely. But showing up to a family event with Chris…“I don’t know.”
Chris looked at her oddly. “I take it you haven’t discussed me with them yet.”
“Not exactly. I mean, they know I’m pregnant, but I made it clear the topic of the father was off-limits.”
“That was before. Now that you know I’m going to be around, they should probably get used to the idea.” At her skeptical look, he added, “What, you don’t think they’ll like me?”
“Oh, they’ll like you.” And then I’ll never hear the end of it if this doesn’t work out. On the other hand, she’d never hear the end of it, anyway. She’d held her family at bay for the time being, but eventually…Of course, once Chris met the Bat Crew, he’d probably beat feet back to Charleston, solving a number of her problems right there.
She just wasn’t sure if that’s what she really wanted anymore.
“Then it’s a date.” Chris drained the last of his coffee, and Ally watched in amazement as he grabbed empty plates off the table and efficiently put everything in the dishwasher. She didn’t know people with a Y chromosome could load a dishwasher.
She stood to help, only to be waved away with an “I’ve got it.” The surprises just kept coming from Chris. Domesticity was not something she expected from a golden boy like him.
Chris closed the dishwasher with a snap and came to kneel next to her. “As much as I hate it, I have to go. I’m going to be late as it is.” He kissed her gently on the forehead. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Ally followed him to the door. “That’s an awful lot of driving for one weekend.You don’t have to come tomorrow. It’s okay.”
He was threading his belt through the loops of his jeans and didn’t look up. “The driving is a pain, but it’s not an issue anymore.”
“Oh.” Had he changed his mind in the last two seconds?
“Victor had the tail rotor taken apart this week, but he promised to have the helicopter back in working order sometime today.”
Her mouth dropped open. “Helicopter? You own a helicopter?”
Chris smirked, then hooked a finger under her chin, closing her mouth and turning it up to his at the same time. “Not personally, but the company does. It saves a lot of time.” He brushed his lips across hers. “Bye.”
Ally closed the door and leaned against it. She could hear the powerful motor of his car roar to life, then fade into the distance as he drove away.
Like she didn’t have enough to process. He owned a freaking helicopter, as well. And he’d be flying down tomorrow just to have lunch with her family. Suddenly, the hundred miles between Savannah and Charleston didn’t seem like such a stumbling block.
Just when she’d begun to think she had her feet under her and a plan in place, Chris had pulled the rug out. Bit by bit, he was slowly chipping away at her entire wall of defense.
How this vapid family produced someone like Ally baffled him.
She’d picked him up at the helipad, then spent the entire drive to her mother’s house “preparing” him, saying her family was a bit crazy but generally harmless. He hadn’t said anything in response to her anecdotes, because everyone thought their families were a bit insane or embarrassing.
Instead, he’d been introduced to the most selfish, narcissistic, self-centered people on earth. They were quick to put two and two together and realize he was the father of Ally’s child, but that hadn’t stopped the snide remarks made to Ally about her unwed, pregnant state.Yet no one seemed to make the same comments to Steven or his obviously pregnant girlfriend, Diane.
Ally favored her mother, Hannah, who didn’t look old enough to have three adult children, but the similarities ended there.
Hannah vapidly bounced from topic to topic, complaining about everything from wedding plans to the way Ally wore her hair. Erin, whom he mentally dubbed “princess,” treated Ally to condescension while simultaneously expecting Ally to manage everything. Ally’s brother was a real piece of work, a man-child who was obviously used to the women of his family waiting on him hand and foot. It extended to his girlfriend, as well, who even in an advanced state of pregnancy perched on the edge of her chair waiting to care for his next need. Through it all, Ally’s father wore the look of a man who’d learned it was easier not to interfere while his family swirled around him.
The entire lot disgusted him. Was Ally sure she wasn’t adopted?
After half an hour, he’d been hard-pressed not to drag Ally out of that toxic atmosphere, but she’d given him a pleading look and a whispered “It’s okay. They’ll get it out of their system soon.”
No wonder Ally approached the world with such caution. Her entire family had the emotional maturity of fifteen-year-olds, and no matter what happened, it was Ally’s job to fix it or else take the blame and to soothe ruffled feathers. When her brother handed Ally a checkbook for her to balance, it was almost the last straw. Couldn’t these people handle anything without Ally?
An hour later it hadn’t gotten any better, and Chris’s appetite and patience were long gone. When his phone rang, he went onto the porch to take the call and stayed out there to cool off before facing her family again.
“They’re usually much better behaved in front of company.” Ally spoke from behind him. “I’m sorry.”
Her heart-shaped face was earnest and concerned, and all the light had gone out of her eyes.
He bit back the disparaging remarks. This was Ally’s family, after all, and she obviously cared for them. He wouldn’t score any points with Ally by insulting her family—however well-deserved and correct the observations were. “They’re certainly…” He searched for an adjective.
“Crazy?” Ally provided. “I told you that,” she added with a sigh.
It wasn’t the word he would have chosen, but it would do. “They’re nothing like you, that’s for sure.” He touched a finger to her chin.
“Somebody has to be the grown-up. Can you imagine how they’d function if I weren’t around?” The corner of her mouth tipped up like she thought it was amusing.
“They’re adults,” he said, although it was a loose interpretation of the word. “They can take care of themselves.”
“You’d think.” Ally seemed to ponder that statement as she leaned against the porch railing. “It’s just easier to humor them than it is to deal with the fallout.”
“Let me guess. The reason you left Tortola so unexpectedly wasn’t simply because Steven had been in an accident, but because someone had to come deal with the grown-up stuff.”
Ally inclined her head slightly. “Of course I was worried about Steven, but, yeah, they needed me to deal with the hospital and the insurance companies and such. They don’t deal well with actual emergencies.”
He tried to keep his voice light. “What are they going to do when you’re busy with the baby and not able to drop everything when they call?”
She paused, seeming to think about something, so he let the silence stretch out. “Molly asked me the same thing.”
“Maybe it’s worth thinking about.”
Ally kicked off the railing and started to pace. “Sometimes I get really fed up with them. They’re flighty, they can’t hold down jobs or be responsible about anything. Theylovedmy ex, and looking back, I can totally see why. He was just like them. Happy to just sit back and let me take care of everything.”
Bitterness tinged her voice, and she seemed to be talking to herself now. “Calling me home from my vacation was par for the course. And at the time, I actually thought they’d done me a favor.”
“A favor?”
“After I got over the anger at having my vacation interrupted, I realized that given a few more days, I probably would have latched onto you. Tried to bring you home with me.”
Understanding dawned. “And I’d be just someone else for you to take care of. A beach bum with no job.”
She nodded. “No offense intended. I still toyed with the idea of trying to find you for a little while, but then I turned up pregnant.”
“And you figured the baby would be enough responsibility.”
“God, yes. I just didn’t have any more to give.”
“So doing it alone was your solution?”
“It was easier than trying to figure out how you’d fit into the picture.” She snorted. “Of course, that’s before you showed up and proved you didn’t need me to take care of you, too.”
“That’s because I’m an actual adult—not like them.” He jerked his head in the direction of the house. She winced, then nodded in agreement. “I don’t need a keeper.”
“I know that now. I misjudged you, and I’m sorry.”
He stepped forward and smoothed his hands over her crossed arms. She’d provided him with an opening. “I’d like to help take care of you, you know. You and the baby.”
Ally’s eyes met his, and he could see the confusion there. She really had been flying blind through this. And while the front porch of her parents’ house wasn’t exactly a good place to be having this conversation, he forged ahead.
“We kind of went about this all backward and out of order, but that doesn’t mean we can’t make it work.”
Ally inhaled sharply. “You’re talking about getting married, aren’t you?”
He took a deep breath and asked for patience. “Yes, Ally, I’m talking about getting married. But not immediately.”
Her shoulders dropped and she sighed audibly in relief. That irked him a little. “But this game we’re playing—dancing around like there’s a better solution—is crazier than your family.” His voice turned husky. “There’s a lot to build on.” This time when she inhaled, he watched her eyes darken and knew she was also thinking about the night before last. His body hardened in response.
“Chris, I—”
“Shh.” He pressed a finger over her lips. “You brought me home to meet your family. You’re carrying my baby. We get along fine—when we’re not antagonizing each other, that is.” Her mouth twisted into a small smile. “I think that’s a good start.”
From inside he heard the noise level increase, then the sound of Erin’s voice. “Ally! We need you in here!”
Ally’s eyes flicked in the direction of the door. He moved closer, until he could feel the warmth that always radiated off her body.
“Forget them for a minute. Hell, forget them altogether. Think about yourself. About the baby.” He pressed a kiss against her lips. “About us.”
“Al-ly!” Erin’s voice took on an impatient whine.
Ally seemed lost in thought for a moment. When her eyes met his again, the spark was back. Her lips curved into a conspiratorial smile. “Can you get me out of here?”
Relief—followed quickly by desire—flowed through him. “My pleasure.”
“Get the car. I’ll grab my purse.” Ally raised up on tiptoe to kiss him—a lighthearted, happy kiss like he hadn’t felt since Tortola. She was out of his arms and in the house in a flash.
Whatever she told her family, they weren’t happy to hear it, and she burst back through the screen door to a litany of loud complaints. She grabbed his hand and pulled him down the steps and to the car.
He opened the door and she slid in, giving the open-mouthed assembled crowd on the porch a wave as he started the engine.
As the wind picked up speed through her open window, Ally’s hair came loose, flowing around her face as she leaned against the seat back with a happy smile and closed her eyes.
“Where to?”
“My place.”
He floored the pedal.
CHAPTER NINE (#ulink_5fd9fc5d-0e71-54c2-9c77-dc85cb9f5ee3)
LIFE WAS JUST TOO GOOD to be true. Ally wanted to pinch herself, but she’d be black-and-blue by now if she acted on the impulse every time she thought about it.
After their escape from her mom’s house on Sunday afternoon, she’d spent an unbelievable afternoon in Chris’s arms, taking him back to catch his ride long after sundown. Victor, Chris’s crewmate and pilot, had worn a knowing grin as Chris had given her a goodbye kiss that thrilled her to her toenails, reigniting a spark that should have been sated by then. If Victor hadn’t been waiting, she’d have dragged Chris back to the car for a quickie in the backseat.
The look on Chris’s face said he wouldn’t have objected.
Molly had taken one look at the dopey grin on her face Monday morning, and not a lot of work had been accomplished as she’d insisted on a play-by-play recount of the weekend. When Ally got to the part about Chris and her family, Molly had merely snorted and said, “I like him more and more.”
Her family, on the other hand, wasn’t speaking to her—other than one message from her mother on the answering machine, chiding her for her behavior. The four days of silence had been…well, not quite bliss, but a least a welcome break from the norm.
The scent of stargazer lilies filled the air in her and Molly’s office, and Ally knew she still wore the same dopey smile for the fifth day in a row. It was hard not to; Chris had only managed one quick trip down to see her on Wednesday night for pizza, but he called and sent e-mails—not so many or so often that she felt smothered, but enough to make her feel, well, special. The flowers arriving this morning just intensified that feeling.
She still worried a bit that she wasn’t making the smartest of decisions right now—that the hormones shaking up her normal equilibrium and the heady rush of Chris’s attentions were affecting her judgment—but she wanted to believe she was. Even Molly encouraged it and joked about expanding the business to an office in Charleston.
That was a little further ahead than Ally liked to plan at the moment. Being caught between a dreamlike possibility and a contingency plan wasn’t good for her higher brain functions, but she was hopeful—even if she didn’t say it out loud too often.
“Why don’t you just go ahead and call it quits for the day. Head on up to Charleston and get the weekend started early.” Molly grinned. “You’re not doing me much good here, you know. All that smiling and sighing is getting on my nerves.”
“Can’t. Chris has meetings tonight with sponsors and he has to be at the yacht club early in the morning to prep for the race. I’d just be in the way.”
“I doubt that.”
“Anyway, there’s work to be done here.” She scooted her chair up to the desk, determined to actually work now. “I’ll try to keep the mooning to a minimum.”
“Yes, please do try.” Molly shot her a mocking smile before turning her attention back to her own keyboard.
The concentration lasted for only a few minutes before her cell phone rang. Chris’s ringtone—he’d downloaded it himself on Wednesday night while they’d eaten pizza on the floor of her living room. She glanced up at Molly as she answered and saw her eyes roll.
“Hey.”
“Hey, yourself. Any chance you can sneak out early today and come on up?”
“Molly just asked me the same thing. I thought you were busy tonight.”
“Technically, I am. But I’ll make time for you.”
A warm glow settled in her stomach, followed quickly by that need to pinch herself again. Molly waved for her attention from her desk, and when Ally made eye contact, Molly mouthed the word, “Go.”
“I guess I can get away.”
“I’ll send Victor down to get you. What time?”
The thought of flying in that tiny helicopter made her feel queasy—as if the morning sickness was coming back. “I’ll just drive, if that’s okay.”
Chris made an exasperated sound.
“One step at a time. We’re not all daredevils like you.”
“It’d be easier my way, though. Faster, too. Plus, you don’t know where you’re going.”
“I’ll get a map.”
Thankfully, Chris didn’t push and instead agreed to e-mail directions to her. She told him she’d call when she was on the road, hung up and started shutting down her computer.
“I’ll make this up to you, Molls,” she promised as she headed toward the door, mentally reviewing her packing list as she walked.
“Like you’ll ever have the time.” Molly waved goodbye. “Drive carefully and I’ll see you Monday.”
Molly’s parting words bothered her as she threw her clothes and toiletries in a bag, but she couldn’t put her finger on why.
She finally shrugged it off as yet another side effect of pregnancy brain—right up there with her new case of forgetful-ness—and simply enjoyed the drive up to Charleston, singing along with the radio.
It wasn’t until late that night, as Chris curled around her in bed, his hand absently stroking across her stomach as he dozed, that she realized what Molly’s words meant.
No matter what happened with Chris, things would never go back to “normal.”
The man was an absolute god. Neptune, Poseidon and Chris Wells. Mercy.
Ally’s eye hurt from peering through the telescope for so long, but she couldn’t pull away from the sight of Chris, two miles out at sea and rounding the second buoy.
She’d known the water was his element, but a simple day sail on a borrowed catamaran hadn’t prepared her for this. Watching Chris skipper his seven-man crew…damn.
Although the water was choppy, sending up spray as the boats moved through the waves, Chris stood sure-footed at the helm, moving in perfect harmony with the boat—as though it was an extension of his body instead of an inanimate object. The wind whipped through his hair and fluttered the sails. When he shouted an order across the decks, men scrambled. Then Chris was working the winch, drawing her attention to the movement of back and arm muscles outlined under the shirt the wind nicely plastered to his skin. Her mouth went dry.
“Taylor’s hoisted a flag.” The words came from beside her, and Ally snapped her attention to the man who’d been her tutor for the day. Carl Michman held the impressive title of vice-commodore of the racing association, but as far as Ally could tell, his main job today seemed to be to keep an eye on her and explain what was going on.
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Heidi Rice и Natalie Anderson
Тип: электронная книга
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
Язык: на английском языке
Издательство: HarperCollins
Дата публикации: 16.04.2024
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