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Smooth Sailing
Lori Wilde


Billionaire playboy Jeb Whitcomb is desperate to win back his ex, so when she decides to marry someone else, he immediately sets sail. He has only four days to stop the wedding and, worse still, he has a stowaway…the only woman who can make a newly good man behave very, very badly!







She did not want this—but she hungered for it…

Jeb’s mouth was on hers, delicious as salted caramel. Haley knew that this was an experience she would never forget: the sound of the billowy sails flapping in the Atlantic breeze; the July sun beaming down bright and hot, shining a million tiny fractured lanterns over the choppy caps of blue water; the smell of briny ocean spray; this handsome man, hard with muscles and a gorgeous smile, kissing a practical woman who’d forgotten what it was like to have fun.

She should break off the kiss. She knew it. Do something! Anything! Just stop kissing him!

But she did none of those things.

Instead, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her.

Haley couldn’t think straight. Acting like this was so unlike her. She felt as if she were channeling some spritely mermaid turning the tables on a handsome fisherman by catching him in her net. Oddly thrilling, that image.

You are in such trouble, whispered her brain…


Dear Reader,

One of the fun things about being a writer is the research. On the surface, research might sound boring. Dry and dusty. Hours spent poring over books. Except, that’s not the kind of research I’m talking about. For Smooth Sailing, my research entailed going to a marina and asking to be taken out on a sailboat. It meant taking a class in sailing and spending hours talking to avid sailors. Now that’s just downright fun.

I learned boating safety, the difference between the sails, the names of all the ropes, the way to properly launch a sailboat, how to trim the sail, how to throw a line, tie up the boat, how to recover from a capsize and how not to panic if you fall overboard. What I took away from this experience is that sailing is really complicated and I have a whole new respect for the sport and the people who sail.

What I hope is that my dedication to research paid off and you’ll be able to experience sailing right along with the hero and heroine of Smooth Sailing, Jeb Whitcomb and Haley French, who fall in love on the high seas. It’s a grand adventure and I thank you for taking the ride with me.

Smooth Sailing is the second book in the STOP THE WEDDING! series. I hope you’ll be on the lookout for the final installment in the trilogy, Crash Landing. Until next time…

Happy reading,

Lori Wilde




About the Author


LORI WILDE is a New York Times bestselling author and has written more than forty books. She’s been nominated for a RITA


Award and four RT Book Reviews Reviewers’ Choice Awards. Her books have been excerpted in Cosmopolitan, Redbook and Quick & Simple. Lori teaches writing online through Ed2go. She’s also an RN trained in forensics and she volunteers at a women’s shelter. Visit her website at www.loriwilde.com.




Smooth Sailing

Lori Wilde







www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


To my students, past, present and future.

Helping you has made me a better writer.

Thank you.




1


Forward—Toward the bow

A PEACOCK COULDN’T have strutted more gloriously than Jeb Whitcomb taking the outdoor makeshift stage. A self-satisfied grin graced his tanned handsome face, his blue eyes crinkled seductively at the corners as he joined the governor at the podium. The sleeves of his white work shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerful forearms dotted with hair a shade darker than the milk-chocolate locks swept rakishly off his forehead.

“In appreciation of your hard work, dedication and monetary contribution to rebuilding the island of St. Michael’s, we are bestowing you with the first Jeb Whitcomb humanitarian award,” Governor Freemont announced and passed the gilded trophy to Whitcomb.

From the audience, Haley French, R.N., rolled her eyes. Whitcomb might have everyone else on the island snowed, but Haley saw through the charming smile and sexy swagger. He hadn’t really come here to help the residents of St. Michael’s; his visit had all been about plumping up his ego. Whenever there was a camera about, Whitcomb was in front of it.

Cameras flashed. Reporters tossed questions. The crowd applauded.

Haley’s best friend, Ahmaya Reddy, poked her in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t be rude. Clap.”

Halfheartedly, Haley joined in the applause, but she frowned. “He’s grandstanding.”

Whitcomb launched into what was clearly an off-the-cuff speech.

“He’s a bona fide hero,” Ahmaya argued. “St. Michael’s couldn’t have recovered as quickly without him.”

“He’s self-centered.”

“Oh, yes, self-centered people give up a year of their life to rebuild islands they have no connection to.”

“That’s precisely my point. He has no connection to St. Michael’s. Who anointed him our savior? I question his motives. Ever notice how he always has hangers-on following him?”

Ahmaya shrugged. “He’s handsome, rich and fun to be around. Who wouldn’t want to hang on?”

“Rebuilding an entire island wiped out by a hurricane shouldn’t be fun.”

“You’d think not, but somehow he managed to get everyone to pull together. That’s why he’s getting the attention, not to mention the award. His ability to get people to work in harmony.”

“He’s just doing it for the attention. It strokes his ego.”

“So what if he is?” Ahmaya asked. Okay, Haley was being a bit harsh, which was not like her, but Whitcomb seemed to bring out the worst in her. “The results are the same. People have homes again and essential services have been restored because of Jeb’s generosity.”

“He’s impulsive.”

“Oh.” A sly smile crossed Ahmaya’s face. “I get it.”

“Get what?”

“The reason why he rubs you the wrong way.”

Haley crossed her arms over her chest, canted her head. “Care to enlighten me?”

“He doesn’t live up to your expectations.”

“I have no expectations of him.”

“No?”

“He’s nothing to me.”

“I thought you two—”

“We certainly did not.” Haley bristled.

“But almost.”

Haley’s cheeks heated. Yes, she’d almost had sex with Jeb Whitcomb several months back when they’d both served on the hospital rebuilding committee. Thankfully, she had not gone through with it.

“Wait a minute.” Ahmaya snapped her fingers. “It’s not Jeb who didn’t live up to your expectations. It was you. You’re mad at him because you violated your own code of ethics when you—”

“Let’s stop talking about him, okay?” To get Ahmaya to shut up, she purposefully fixed her attention on the stage.

Jeb had a microphone in his hand. He paced the length of the stage, whipping up the audience with his passionate vision of what St. Michael’s could become. Haley knew how dangerous his passion was. He’d had her under his spell, however briefly. He paused in midstride, peered out at the audience and his gaze landed on her.

For one heart-stopping second, their eyes locked and Haley’s throat tightened. Darn it, she could not glance away.

Jeb held her pinned to the spot, his eyelids lowered slightly, and his voice took on a seductive quality. Or maybe she had merely imagined it. “Since this is my last day on St. Michael’s, I’m having a party on my yacht and everyone is invited,” he announced.

A cheer went up from the assembly.

He tossed the microphone to the governor and stalked offstage with a jaunty spring to his step, his entourage of sycophants trailing after him. The crowd gathered around, patting him on the back, trying to shake his hand, but he seemed a man on a mission.

It took Haley a few seconds to realize he was headed toward her. Oh, hell, no.

She spun on her heel. Should be easy enough to disappear in this throng. She rushed forward. Her toe caught on a power cord snaking across the ground and she tripped. Way to watch where you’re going, French. She put out her palms to catch herself and ended up sprawled on the ground. Oh, she hated being vulnerable.

From behind her came a familiar chuckle. He was already upon her. Before she could scramble up, Jeb’s hand went around her waist, his citrusy scent enveloping her as he helped her gently to her feet.

“Easy there, baby,” he crooned, bending down to dust the dirt from the knees of her scrubs.

She wrenched away from him, stepped back, breathless and despising herself for it. Hands off the goods, buster. Worst of all, she couldn’t help meeting his eyes.

There he was standing so close to her in his white shirt, pressed khaki shorts, yachting cap and boat shoes, looking every inch the wealthy windblown yachtsman. Everyone else faded away and it was just the two of them.

His light blue eyes regarded her with a lively sense of humor. It was that sense of humor that had been her undoing. She wasn’t going to fall for it. Not twice. No way. No how. He was finally leaving the island. Yay! She’d never have to see him again.

“You’re coming to my party, right?” His fingers lightly stroked her upper arm.

No way.

“It wouldn’t be a party without you,” he went on.

“I’ve got to wash my hair,” she lied. On second thought, why lie? Maybe she would wash her hair. Wash that man right out of it.

“All you need is to lose a few of these pins.” His fingers went from her shoulder to her hair, which was pulled up into a tight bun. It was far too intimate of a gesture. He plucked bobby pins from her hair, one by one, and the locks fell loosely to her shoulders. “There, much better.”

Haley jerked back, pulse thumping hard. Oh, no. Do not like this. You are not allowed to like this.

The expression in his eyes was one of total amusement. He knew he’d made her uncomfortable and he was enjoying himself.

“I’m a stickler for clean hair. I make it a policy to wash it every day.” She stuck her chin in the air.

“I know,” he murmured, his voice warm and cozy. “You do love your rules.”

Who was he to act as if he knew her? Just because they’d almost—Well, never mind what they’d almost done—she was determined to forget it. What really chafed was that he’d been the one to pull the plug on their encounter.

“Gotta go.” She pointed her feet away from him, but for some unfathomable reason, she did not move.

“I should have known you wouldn’t come to my party,” he said. “Little Miss Straitlaced.”

“Just because I don’t want to attend your bacchanal doesn’t mean I’m straitlaced.”

“Bacchanal?” He sounded amused.

“It’s a word. Look it up.”

“You’re chicken.”

She straightened. “I’m not afraid of a thing.” Watch out. Noses grow when lies are told.

“I disagree. You’re terrified of having a good time.”

She sniffed. “My idea of a good time and your idea of a good time are two very different things.”

“I know. Beating myself up is not my favorite pastime.”

She curled her upper lip, determined not to smile back at him. “Well, have a nice party and a safe trip.” He’d nailed her, but good. Well, not nailed her in the sexual regard. Pegged her—that was better terminology. He’d pegged her. Must hate him for that if nothing else.

“Are you going to miss me when I’m gone?” He leaned down, his grin widening.

All night long. “Not in the least.”

“I suppose I asked for that.”

“You did.”

He batted his eyes at her. “I’m going to miss you.”

“Whatever for?”

“You’re the only one on this island who keeps me on my toes.”

No, sir. She would not let this man turn her into mush. She was better than that. “You want to be on your toes? Wear high heels.”

He threw back his head and laughed heartily. “I also love your sense of humor.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny.” She folded her arms over her chest.

“You’re also the only one who doesn’t like me, and I can’t figure out why.”

Haley scoffed. “Not everyone has to like you. Why do you care whether I like you or not?”

“Because I like you.”

“You like everyone.”

“True,” he said, taking a step closer. “But not as much as I like you.”

She put up her hand like a stop sign. “You don’t like me. You like a challenge.”

His crystal-blue eyes glittered. “I have to admit, I do enjoy a challenge. The more you resist, the more I want you…” There was a long pause that set her heart to rocking, before he added, “At my party.”

“You can want in one hand and spit in the other and see which fills up first.”

Jeb laughed long and loud, showing off a row of straight white teeth. That was the problem with the man. He was too perfect and every woman wanted him. Just like the blonde who was sidling up to his elbow and fluttering her false eyelashes at him.

“Your adoring public awaits.”

“What?”

She nodded at the woman.

Jeb barely cast the platinum blonde a glance and quickly swung his gaze back to Haley. “Come to my party.”

“I don’t think so. It takes my hair a really long time to dry,” she quipped.

She could not let him know how much he got under her skin. If he knew that he was a major star in her sexual fantasies, she would never hear the end of it. She refused to be like all the other women simpering at his feet.

Yes, he was good-looking. Yes, he was rich. Yes, he had personality and charisma oozing from his pores. Those were exactly the reasons she was not interested. Jeb Whitcomb was a very superficial man.

“It’s the last time you’ll ever see me.” A hangdog expression crawled over his face. “Don’t you want to say goodbye?”

“Goodbye.” She wriggled her fingers at him.

“The party won’t be the same without you.”

“You won’t miss me.”

He canted his head, his eyes drilling into her like lasers. “Ah, see, but that’s where you’re wrong.”

“It’s not going to happen, Whitcomb.”

He shrugged. “A guy can always dream, can’t he?”

“As long as it stays a dream.”

He reached out, touched the back of her hand. A shiver ran straight through the middle of her. “I am going to miss you, Haley.”

“That makes one of us.”

“Ouch.” The grin was back as he clutched a hand to his chest. “You play for keeps.”

“Don’t ever forget it.”

The blonde at his elbow edged closer, cleared her throat. “Mr. Whitcomb, I’m from Metropolitan Magazine and I want to do a story on you.”

Jeb turned to the woman. “Yes?”

With her hand still tingling from his touch, Haley took advantage of his distraction and slipped off into the crowd. Great. She felt like a James Bond martini, shaken and not—Oh, who was she kidding?

She was both shaken and stirred.

HALEY STALKED OFF with a purposeful bounce, her honey-colored hair flowing around her shoulders, those blue scrubs stretching across her sexy rump as she marched away.

Jeb grinned, put a palm to the nape of his neck and licked his lips. Wow, you can park that swing in my backyard anytime. He tilted his head, honed in on her narrow waist and curvy hips.

His pulse pounded and his body stiffened. In spite of the cool ocean breeze swaying the palm trees, a simmering heat moved through him. He chuffed out a breath, struggling to regain his equilibrium. Truth was, he really would miss her. He enjoyed their sparring matches. She was sassy and saucy and didn’t take anything off anyone.

The last person who’d challenged him that same way was his ex-girlfriend, Jackie Birchard. Out of the dozens of girlfriends he’d had, Jackie was the only one to dump him. It made her stand out in the crowd. The one woman he couldn’t charm.

That was, until he met Haley. Too bad they’d never hooked up, although they’d come pretty damn close.

Jeb smiled, remembering. He could have gotten her into bed if he’d wanted. When they’d made out on the beach at sunset a few months back, sparks had ignited unlike anything he’d ever felt before, and that was saying something. Haley had wanted him as much as he’d wanted her, maybe even more so, although chances were good that she would never admit it.

But, surprise, surprise, he’d been the one to put a stop to things before they’d completely lost control.

He’d stopped for two reasons. One, he knew Haley would have regretted it the morning after. She was such a stickler for protocol, held herself and others to high standards. Two, he’d been trying to prove to Jackie that she was wrong about him. He wasn’t a self-absorbed playboy with no depth of character. He could restrain himself.

No matter how difficult it had been to break that kiss and send Haley home with their desires unfulfilled.

Ah, well, you couldn’t win them all, right? It was time to move on. His work on St. Michael’s was done. He’d achieved what he’d set out to achieve. He’d helped rebuild the island. He could return home with his head held high.

“About that interview, Mr. Whitcomb,” said the blond reporter with a smile that sparkled like prisms.

Matching her smile, Jeb turned and led her away, but he couldn’t resist one last glance over his shoulder at Haley.

She paused and looked back.

Their eyes met.

Gotcha! Protest all you want, sweetheart—you do want me. Boldly, he winked.

Her cheeks reddened and her eyes narrowed in a scowl. She ducked her head and flounced from his view, leaving Jeb sorely regretting the night that they’d never had.

HALEY LAY STRETCHED OUT on her twin bed in the one-bedroom bungalow she shared with Ahmaya. She was eating Oreos, twisting the cookies apart and scraping the white filling off with her front teeth before gobbling up the dark cookies. Oreos were her go-to comfort treats when she was stressed or frustrated, and yes, she knew the drawbacks of de-stressing with a sugar fix, but when she was feeling like this, she didn’t care.

The quarters were basic and cramped, but a long sight better than the tent they’d lived in after Hurricane Sylvia. She was trying not to think about Jeb, but he kept popping into her head at the most unwanted times.

Why?

Yes, he was wealthy, handsome and self-confident, but he was also full of himself and far too free with his affections. Imagine! He’d called her baby and took the pins out of her hair, and she’d just stood there and let him. Unexpected goose bumps lifted on her arms and she hugged herself.

Ahmaya stood in front of the mirrored closet door, examining her reflection as she got ready for the party. “What do you think about this skirt?”

“The hem is too short.”

“Perfect,” Ahmaya purred.

“You’re going to wear it anyway?”

“I am. If you think it’s too short that means it’s exactly the right length.”

Haley sat up. “You’re saying I’m a prude?”

“Uh-huh, kinda.” Ahmaya ran her fingers through her straight, glossy black hair.

“I’m not a prude,” she argued against the heavy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Was she? She didn’t mean to be; it was just that she had certain principles and she wasn’t going to compromise.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“Prove you’re not a prude.”

“I don’t have to prove anything.”

“You don’t curse.”

“So what?”

“Prudes don’t curse.”

“I believe in having a wide vocabulary. Is that so wrong?”

“Prudish.”

“What?” She raised her arms. “I should go around swearing like a sailor to prove I’m not prudish? Okay, then.” Haley let loose with a few descriptive curse words.

Ahmaya looked surprised. “I had no idea you knew those words.”

“I’m a nurse. I’ve heard a lot worse than that. It’s just that cursing seems so crude and uncivilized.”

“Sometimes—” Ahmaya grinned “—it’s fun to be uncivilized.”

“If you say so.”

“Prude.”

“Are we back to that?”

“It’s the truth of your being.”

“I don’t think prude is the right word. Prudent, if you wish, but not prudish.”

“Hmm.” Ahmaya stepped into a pair of mile-high stilettos. “Prove it.”

“I just did.”

“Not by cursing, by coming with me to Jeb’s party. I need a wing woman.”

“You don’t need a wing woman.”

“Everyone needs a wing woman.”

“Call Jessie. I’m sure she’d go.”

“She’s stuck working second shift.”

“Ahmaya, I don’t want to go.”

“But you’re the one with a car.”

“It’s only a half mile. You can ride your bike.”

“In this?” Ahmaya swept a dramatic hand at her sexy outfit. She had a point. Jimmy Choo didn’t pedal well. Her friend dropped on her knees in front of Haley, pressed her palms together. “Please, please, please. I’ll do the crash-cart checks for you all month.”

Haley sighed. “You know parties aren’t my thing.”

“Seriously, it’s great that you’re all into altruistic causes and saving people and everything, but you can’t work or think about work 24/7. You need to lighten up. Let your hair down.”

That remark had Haley remembering how Jeb had pulled the bobby pins from her hair. She suppressed a shiver. He’d kept her bobby pins. It would serve him right if she went to his party and demanded the return of her bobby pins.

“You are the dullest twenty-seven-year-old I know.” Ahmaya pouted.

Ouch! That hurt.

Haley considered self-discipline her strong suit, not a flaw. It was what had gotten her through nursing school with a 4.0 grade-point average. An accomplishment she was very proud of.

“One little bitty party isn’t going to kill you. Everyone is going to be there. Look at it as a networking opportunity.” Ahmaya batted her long, dark lashes. “Pretty please?”

“Oh, all right, but I’m only staying for one drink and then I’m out of there.”

“You’ll drink really slowly, right?”

“An hour. I’ll stay an hour. If you’re ready to go in an hour, you can leave with me. If you’re not, then you’ll have to find your own way home.”

Ahmaya’s face dissolved into a happy smile and she extended her hand. “Deal.”

Huffing out a sigh, Haley shook her hand.

“Now,” Ahmaya said, “we have to find you something sexy to wear.”

“No, we don’t. Jeans and a T-shirt will do just fine.”

Ahmaya looked aghast. “Shut your mouth. This is a par-tay. You’re not going looking like a schlub.”

“I came here with the Red Cross and I stayed to work. I have scrubs and jeans and that’s it.”

“Ah.” Ahmaya’s eyes glistened. “But I have party clothes. My sister sent me a big box of them last month.”

“You wear a size four.”

“You’re not that much bigger than me. I bet we can squeeze you into my blue Ann Taylor Loft spaghetti strap. Ann Taylor sizes run big, and blue is your color.” Ahmaya dug in her closet, found the dress, tossed it to Haley. “The dress is a little bland for my taste anyway. Should be right up your alley.”

“I’m not much for florals. Too girly.”

“No excuses. Try it on.” Ahmaya sank her hands on her hips.

Reluctantly, Haley stripped off her scrubs and put on the dress. It hugged her curves and the hem fell halfway up her thigh. Hello, where’s the burlesque stage? Gypsy Rose Lee is in the house. She tugged at the bottom of the dress, trying to lengthen it. “It’s too short.”

“You’ve got dynamite legs. Why are you so scared to show them?”

“I’m not scared. Just not interested in looking like a hoochie mama.”

“You’re saying I’m a hoochie mama?”

“The dress isn’t snug on you and you’re two inches shorter than I am.”

“Celebrate your curves, Haley. I’m jealous.”

“It’s too tight in the boobs.”

“It’s perfect. That’s the way a sexy dress is supposed to fit.”

“I’ll need a strapless bra.”

Ahmaya’s eyes danced mischievously. “Go braless.”

“My nipples will show.”

“I have Nippies you can wear. No more excuses.”

“What are Nippies?”

“Gawd, do you live under a rock? They’re nipple covers.”

“I live on a hurricane-devastated island. My concerns run more toward basic human necessities than fashion.”

“You can say that again. Can you for once not be a Debbie Downer?”

That startled her. “Am I really a killjoy?”

“Yeah, kinda. Not everyone lives by your work-work-work credo, and you know, sometimes people need something fun to take their minds off the bad things that have happened. Jeb totally gets that.”

Her friend’s comment stopped Haley in her tracks. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that she was too focused on hard work and doing things by the book. Did everyone think she was a hard-ass? Yes, she was very careful by nature and thorough in forming her opinions, and she had high principles. Why was that a bad thing? Why did she so often feel out of step with others her age?

“Haley, if you’re not perfect every minute of the day, the world won’t come to an end,” Ahmaya said, her voice softening. “Please just try to have fun tonight. Will you promise me that?”

She really did want to fit in. Wanted people to like her. “I’ll try, but the main reason I don’t want to go is that Jeb Whitcomb will be there.”

“Of course he’ll be there. It’s his party.”

“He’s just so cocky. He thinks that all women want to fall at his feet.”

“Most of them do.”

“Not me.”

“Do you really want to make him suffer?”

That intrigued her. “How would I do that?”

“Show up looking gorgeous. Let him see what he’ll never have. Rub it in.”

Hmm. She liked that. Little Miss Sadist. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Yay.” Ahmaya clapped. “Now, will you let me do your makeup?”

Haley started to resist—Ahmaya had a tendency to overdo makeup application—but she quickly thought better of it. She was determined to prove she could be a party animal just like everyone else, even if it killed her.

But most of all, she wanted to give Jeb Whitcomb a good-riddance send-off he wouldn’t forget.




2


Luff—The flapping motion of the sailcloth when a sail is undertrimmed

JEB WAS IN HIS ELEMENT. He loved throwing parties, loved crowds. Having people around amped him up, fed his energy.

It wasn’t even sunset and the party was already rocking. Wang Chung was urging “Everybody Have Fun Tonight” from the sound system. People were bobbing and weaving to the beat. The bartender he’d hired was imitating Tom Cruise moves from Cocktail. The yacht overflowed, people spilling out onto the gangplank and dock. The caterers dished up delectable canapés—prawn spring rolls, Thai chicken skewers, langoustine pastry puffs, smoked-salmon crisps, mini Yorkshire pudding with roast beef and horseradish, and mushrooms stuffed with lump crab meat. Japanese paper lanterns and flickering citronella candles provided intimate lighting. The air smelled salty and calm.

He stood smiling, dressed in a blue button-down silk shirt, chino slacks and deck shoes without socks, a tumbler of finely aged Scotch and water in his hand. Great turnout. Then again, the turnout for his parties was always great.

But one person was missing. The person he most wanted to see.

You really didn’t think she’d show, did you?

No, he hadn’t. Why did she snub him so vigorously? Why did he care so much to begin with? He was supposed to resist the allure of other women so he could win Jackie back. His ex-girlfriend would have to be impressed with all he’d accomplished on St. Michael’s. He’d proven he wasn’t a dilettante and that he was serious about helping others.

The hospital administrator came over to thank him again for his contributions. Jeb leaned in, pretended to listen intently, but his gaze kept straying to the dock, watching the arriving guests.

No Haley.

What was the big deal? He should be happy to have that contentious female out of his life for good. He would be on his way home to Florida tomorrow. He should be thinking about Jackie. She would be so surprised to see him.

Yes! Going home. He missed Miami and he was turning flips at the thought of seeing Jackie again and showing her how he’d changed, but he couldn’t help wishing he could have said goodbye to Haley. He would miss the way she challenged him at every turn. Not too many people did that to him.

Jackie did.

It had just been so long since he’d seen Jackie that he was imbuing Haley with his ex-girlfriend’s traits. That was all this was. That was all it could be, because he’d given up being a ladies’ man and he was damned proud of his restraint.

A year.

It had been a year since he’d been with a woman. His longest record since he’d lost his virginity at sixteen. See, Jackie, I have changed!

The governor and his wife joined Jeb’s conversation with the hospital administrator. Jeb winked at the wife, a dumpy woman in her mid-fifties wearing a colorful muumuu. “You’re looking beautiful tonight, Mrs. Freemont.”

She blushed like a girl and ducked her head. “You’re such an outrageous flirt.”

From eight to eighty, most women were so easy to charm. Look them straight in the eye, pay them a compliment and mean it. That was the essential part. You truly had to love women. Add a conspiratorial wink and they were putty.

All except for Jackie.

And Haley.

“You don’t have drinks,” Jeb said to the Freemonts. “Let me rectify that right now.” He motioned for one of the waiters roving through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres to come over. He gave their order to the waiter, turned back to pick up the thread of the conversation when his attention was immediately snagged by a leggy honey-blonde sauntering up the gangplank.

She wore a skimpy little blue dress with tiny white flowers scattered over the material, and her breasts moved with such a pert bounce he had to assume she was not wearing a bra.

Instantly, his body lit up.

His gaze trailed from the blue four-inch stiletto sandals on her delicate little feet, up the length of those amazing calves and back to the nip of her narrow waist to the boldly unharnessed breasts, and finally, he glanced at her face.

His heart did a double take.

No way! This could not be Haley French looking like a supermodel with her perfectly arched eyebrows and glossy pink lips.

His eyes bugged out and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He knew she was pretty, yes indeed, but he had absolutely no idea she could look like this. Stunning.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly to the Freemonts and the hospital administrator, then set down his drink and made a beeline straight for Haley.

Her eyes widened and she reached for the elbow of the dark-haired girl beside her. She said something short and succinct to her friend, shook her head, spun on her heel and hurried back down the gangplank.

“Wait!” Jeb called, pushing through the crowd.

But Haley didn’t even glance around. Her friend stood on the gangplank looking bewildered.

“Jeb, hey, I’ve been wanting to speak to you,” someone said.

“Great party.” A beautiful woman clutched at his arm.

A man clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re going to miss you on St. Michael’s.”

“Excuse me, excuse me.” Jeb shook off the people. Why was he so desperate to prevent her from leaving?

He blew past Haley’s friend, reached the end of the gangplank. Haley was a good twenty feet ahead of him. She was already off the dock and climbing the stairs to the marina parking lot.

“Haley!”

She didn’t turn around.

He was running now. Definitely uncool. Ruining your image, dude. Stop it.

Jeb reached the bottom of the stairs just as Haley crested them. “Baby, don’t go.”

She stopped in midstep and spun around to glower at him. One sexy gam perched on the landing, the other on the step below. “Excuse me?”

“Baby, please don’t go.”

“Baby? Did you just call me baby?”

He shrugged, chagrined. “Sorry. Figure of speech.”

“Do I look like an infant to you?”

“No, ma’am. Not in any way, shape or form.”

Slowly, she came back down the steps toward him, her eyes blazing fire. His pulse hammered hotly through his veins. “The word baby is also often used as a term of endearment between lovers,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” He nodded.

“Are we lovers?”

“Unfortunately, no.” What was he doing? Jackie was the one for him. He was trying not to seduce other women, and for a whole year, he’d been a very good boy. He should just tell Haley goodbye and go back to the party.

“I am not an infant and we are not lovers, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then under no circumstances are you to call me baby. Got it?”

He gave a jaunty salute. “Got it. No baby. Not now, not ever. The word is stricken from my vocabulary.”

“Good. Even among lovers I find the word off-putting. Infantilizing each other isn’t the way to build a mature, loving bond.”

“You have strong opinions about it.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t like me all that much, do you?”

“Not especially.”

“Why did you come tonight?”

“My friend Ahmaya needed a wing woman and a ride. She doesn’t have a car.”

“You were just going to go off and leave her?”

For one second, she looked shamefaced, but quickly recovered. “Ahmaya’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“And yet, you came with her.” Jeb raked his gaze over Haley. “Looking like that, I might add.”

A pink blush crept up her neck. “It’s Ahmaya’s dress.”

“You’re stunning.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” she said snidely. “I bet you said that to only a couple dozen women today.”

“More like a baker’s dozen,” he teased.

Her shoulders relaxed a little at that and a tiny smile briefly lit her lips. Small victory. With Haley, he’d take his triumphs where he could get them.

“Are you still planning on running away?”

“I’m not running away.”

“Seems to me you are.”

“I can’t run in these shoes. I was walking away or, more accurately, hobbling away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like parties.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too crowded. I don’t like crowds.”

“Uh, you forget I saw you in action in those relief camps right after Hurricane Sylvia. The tents were packed tighter than sardine cans and you were right in the middle of it.”

“That was different. I was helping people.”

“C’mon back to the party,” he coaxed. “I’ll let you give the Heimlich maneuver if anyone chokes on a canapé.”

There was that brief smile again.

His heart gave a strange bunny hop. He held out a hand. “C’mon.”

They stood there a moment; Haley posed on the top steps, Jeb at the bottom, groveling, palm outstretched.

“Don’t leave me hanging, ba—” He almost said baby but stopped in the nick of time.

“Why should I come back to your party?”

“For one thing, you’re a good friend. Ahmaya needs you.”

“Low blow.”

“I’ll use any tool in the arsenal.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much if I’m at your party or not?”

It was a very good question. He didn’t have a glib answer handy and ended up just blurting out the truth. “I’ve got enough yes-men and yes-women around me. I need someone who knows how to luff a sail.”

“A what?”

“There are no brakes on a sailboat. The only way to slow down is to luff the sail. That means to under-trim the sail so it doesn’t catch any wind.”

“In other words, I’m a brake, huh?”

“Well, you know you are a stickler for rules, etiquette, proper behavior and all that.” He waved a hand.

“A wet blanket.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“A Debbie Downer.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“Why would you want a brake at your party? Parties are supposed to be go, go, go. No-holds-barred. Looks like you’d want an accelerator, not a brake.”

“Don’t be offended by the brake comment. A brake is a good thing,” he said. “A brake is very necessary. A brake keeps you safe.”

“Like a mother?”

He shoved fingers through his hair. “This isn’t going well, is it?”

“Not in the least.” She folded her arms over her chest, but the smile was back and stayed a fraction of a second longer this time.

“Come luff my sails, Haley.”

She hesitated. Ha! He had her.

“You’re already dressed to impress. Why waste it?” he cajoled.

“I don’t know why I’m even considering this.”

“’Cause part of you doesn’t really want to spend tonight all alone washing your hair.”

“I don’t mind being by myself.”

Man, she was a hard nut to crack. “Okay,” he said. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.” Taking a calculated risk, he turned to go.

“Wait.”

He grinned, stopped, but did not turn back around. “Yes?”

“I am pretty hungry. I’ll stay for a bite to eat.” The sound of her mincing down the metal stairs in her stilettos rang out into the twilight.

He bent his arm at the elbow, signaling for her to take it. To his surprise, she did.

“Only because I’m wearing high heels,” she said, reading his mind as she slipped her arm through his.

Her touch ignited a firestorm inside him. Jeb gulped. Good thing he was sailing out tomorrow—one more day around Haley and there was no telling what might happen.

HALEY HAD NO IDEA WHY she’d allowed smooth-talking Jeb Whitcomb to coax her into coming back to his party.

Partially, it was true that she was hungry and hated to cook for just herself, plus, there was her promise to Ahmaya, but there was another part of her that she didn’t really want to poke. The part that liked being around Jeb.

The minute they reached the deck of his sailing yacht, Haley let go of his arm. She was disturbed to find herself breathless.

“What would you like to drink?” Jeb asked.

“You don’t have to get my drink.”

“It’s no problem.” He lifted a finger at a white-gloved waiter waiting at the ready.

Haley supposed a lot of women fell for the master-and-commander routine. Your every wish was his command. Seductive, for sure, but she mistrusted anything that wasn’t hard-won.

The waiter appeared at his side.

“Could you please bring Miss French a…” Jeb looked at her expectantly.

“Diet cola.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Not ever?”

“Rarely. New Year’s Eve. Wedding toasts. That kind of thing.”

“This is my going-away party.”

“So?”

“You’re not going to toast my journey?”

“I can toast with diet cola.”

He got a knowing look on his face. “Aha.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“The ‘aha’ meant something.”

“It’s not important.”

“Then why did you say it?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I’ve figured out something about you.”

She pulled her lips downward. “And what is that?”

“You’re afraid of losing control.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I never said anything was wrong with it. Just had a lightbulb moment.”

“I like to keep my wits about me.”

“Make an exception,” he said.

“You want me witless?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“To prove you can let your hair down.”

“I don’t have to prove a thing to you.”

He leaned closer. “No, but wouldn’t it be fun to stop thinking so much for once and simply let go?”

“Five minutes ago you were telling me you needed someone who knew how to luff a sail.”

“If the sailcloth stayed luffed, you’d never set sail.”

“Nothing wrong with dry land.”

“You’re not a sailor?”

“Landlubber all the way. That’s me.” She groaned.

The waiter cleared his throat.

“You’re holding up the poor man,” Jeb said. “What’ll you have? And no diet coke unless it has rum in it.”

She thought about sticking to her guns, but it was easier just to give in, and at some point, you couldn’t fight everything, right? Pick your battles, Haley. Everything is not worthy of a crusade. She recited her mother’s frequent advice. “White wine, something with a low alcohol content and sweet.”

“Uh,” he said sounding mildly amused. “I had you pegged for something tart, like a salty dog.”

“What’s a salty dog?”

“Grapefruit juice and vodka with a salted rim.”

“When it comes to alcohol, the sweeter the better.” She crinkled her nose. “I don’t like the taste.”

“Bring her a glass of Luccio Moscato d’Asti,” he told the waiter.

The waiter actually bowed, clicked his patent leather heels and departed for the open bar.

“What’s Moscato whatever?”

“Light, white dessert wine, five percent alcohol. Couldn’t get a kitten drunk on it. You’ll love the stuff.”

“Sounds perfect.” She spied Ahmaya in the center of a clot of men—so much for hope of rescue on that score.

“Come.” Jeb took her by the elbow and escorted her toward the buffet.

She wanted to resist out of general principle—he was far too proprietary—but the deck was crowded, and in these ridiculous stilettos, it was nice to have him threading the needle to the food. But what disconcerted her most was the feel of his skin against hers. Just like she’d enjoyed that kiss he’d given her on the beach several months back. Which, if she were being honest, was at the heart of why she wanted to avoid him.

He handed her a plate and the waiter brought her drink. Solicitously, Jeb held the wineglass for her while she filled her plate. The gentlemanly shtick was all part of his seduction ritual, no doubt. Don’t fall for his courteous manners. It’s a trap.

“You’re not going to have anything to eat?” she asked him.

“When I eat, I’m not giving my guests my full attention.”

“Well, feel free to mingle.” She waved him off. “Don’t let me hold you back.”

“Ah, but you’re one of my guests. I want to make sure all your needs are met.”

Her stomach grumbled, so she loaded up on food while he waited, and then he guided her down three steps to bench seating on the lower deck. Two people were sitting there, but he went over and whispered something to them and they got up. He turned to smile and waved triumphantly at the vacated seats.

“You ran them off?”

“I politely asked if they’d mind giving up their seats for a lady whose feet were hurting.”

“Hey, I can eat just fine standing up.”

Jeb sat and patted the spot next to him. “Please, have a seat, Haley.”

The way he said her name, as if it were the most elegant sound on earth, sent tingles zipping through her. Reluctantly, she sat and perched her plate on her knees, which she kept firmly pressed together in the too-short dress. Instead of meeting his gaze, she concentrated on pulling a morsel of chicken off a wooden skewer.

“I’m glad you came tonight.”

“That makes one of us.”

“You love busting my chops.”

She grinned. She did.

“How’s the wine?”

“Haven’t tasted it yet.” She took a sip. Ooh, it went down sweet and smooth. “I like it. Reminds me of Kool-Aid.”

“Wow, something you approve of. Duly noted.”

“No need to note it. This is the last time we’ll ever see each other.”

“You sound happy about that.”

Not happy. Relieved. And grateful that she’d managed to avoid his charms and stay out of his bed, although she’d had a near miss.

He reached out to touch her hand. “I’m going to miss you, Haley. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

She slipped her arm away. “Great puff pastries. Kudos to the caterers.”

“I’ll pass along your compliments to the chef.”

An awkward silence passed between them.

“You’re one of the hardest workers I’ve ever had the pleasure to know,” he said.

“Thank you.” What was he getting at?

“And I admire how straightforward you are. No beating around the bush.”

“Speaking of that.” She dusted off her fingers with a napkin. “Let me just set you straight. There’s no way I’m spending the night with you. Not if it were my last night on earth.”

“Whew.” Laughing, he leaned back in his seat and wiped a palm over his forehead in mock relief.

Whew? Haley scowled.

“Because the last thing in the world I ever want to do is have sex with you,” he said.

She stared at him, stunned, her jaw unhinged. He did not want to have sex with her? “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not because you’re not desirable, because you most certainly are in a tough-girl, nothing-touches-me-emotionally kind of way.”

“Then what the hell is this full-court press about? Begging me to come to your party, getting me food and wine, touching me like you mean business.”

He held up a palm. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight—you want me to want you, but you’re not about to sleep with me?”

Haley pursed her lips guiltily. Yeah, well, sorta. “I want to be the one woman who won’t fall at your feet.”

His grin turned wolfish. “You almost did.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Only because I called it off.”

“I would have called it off. You just beat me to it.”

“We’ll never know, will we?”

She put her plate aside. She really wanted more of those crab-stuffed mushrooms, but she did not want to sit here with Jeb Whitcomb any longer. “You are driving me bonkers.”

“Right back atcha, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby!” How was it that this man could ruffle her so easily? She hated that.

“Why not? You’re acting like one. I was trying to pay you a compliment and you got all twisted off for no reason. You have a tendency to do that.”

“Yeah? Well, you have a tendency to believe you’re God’s gift to women. News flash, you’re nothing but a rich frat boy swooping in with your money to make yourself feel good.”

“What’s wrong with that? I feel good, people get the help they need.”

“Because you sail away to your fancy life, leaving people longing for you.”

His smile turned knowing and he lowered his voice. “Are you longing for me, Haley?”

“Yes, longing for you to be gone.” Wine in hand, she flounced away.




3


Safety harness—Personal gear that attaches to a tether to keep the person on board

JEB TOOK A LONG PULL off his Scotch and water; the synapses in his brain were alight with lusty and inappropriate impulses. He’d pissed her off.

Oh, she was gorgeous when she was mad and she had the world’s cutest scowl, hands down. He followed her up the steps, back to the bridge. She circled the boat.

He licked his lips.

She ended up talking to one of her coworkers starboard, but every now and then, she’d dart a glance in his direction. When their eyes met, she’d quickly glance away. Can’t handle the heat, huh, angel?

Corner her. Kiss her, hissed one of those lusty, inappropriate impulses.

Nope. No way. He’d lasted this long without giving in. He could certainly last one more night. Haley deserved much better than a quick one-night stand, but even a pious man had his share of sexual fantasies, right? And when it came to the pious spectrum, Jeb slid to the not-so-much side of the scale.

She was unlike the sophisticated society women that he usually dated, women who could shrug in and out of an affair like their designer clothes. Haley was honest and down-to-earth and direct, and he was a jerk for even entertaining the fantasies dancing around in his head.

He made the rounds, talking to his party guests, but no matter where he was on the boat, his gaze was drawn back to her again and again. A full moon climbed the sky, setting the mood and tugging at the tides. Haley stood in shadows with her head tilted up, bathing that side of her face in moonlight, and she let out a light laugh that stirred his desire.

Do something. Move. Drink. Eat. Talk to your other guests. Just stop staring at her!

He went toward her. She stood with her back against the mainsail mast, her spine as straight as the post. She had great posture, shoulders squared and alert.

People stood around her, drinks in hand, but he saw none of them. Moonlight glinted off her eyes; her lips were painted deep pink. He realized it was the first time he ever remembered seeing her wear lipstick. The wind ruffled her hair, which for once was not pulled into a stern ponytail or tight bun. The breeze molded the dress to her slender figure, hugging her hips and stopping several inches above her knees.

His mammalian brain whispered, Claim her.

Resist. You are not going to succumb. One more night and you’ll be out to sea. Within a week, you’ll be holding Jackie in your arms and the wait will be worth it.

Love the one you’re with, prodded the most primal part of him.

He snuffed that out.

Or at least tried to.

Haley was watching him warily.

He moved closer.

She slunk away.

Seeing her in this environment—his environment—was novel and exciting, and he simply reacted, moving forward as she slipped away from him behind other guests.

The chase was on.

The part of his DNA that was thousands of years old stirred, eager for the hunt. His body quivered and his heart hammered against his rib cage. All his senses were aroused.

His civilized veneer vanished. Raw, aching need took over. Need so strong it scared him.

Back off! Wake up. Snap out of it.

Treacherous body.

He shook his head but could not seem to stave off the sense of urgency shoving his blood through his veins. He was a lion and she was the most beautiful lioness on the plains. She mesmerized him and he was aware of everything about her. It was disorienting, this acute sense of awareness.

His muscles were tensed, the hairs on his arms raised, a thrill shivered through his nerve endings. He felt well and truly alive, but the jolt was nerve-frazzling and worrisome.

Around and around the boat they went, Jeb pursuing, Haley fleeing. It was fun and he was quite enjoying himself, even though he knew nothing would come of this strange cat-and-mouse game. Didn’t want anything to come of it.

Until a group of people cornered him for a toast and Haley gave him the slip.

HEART IN HER THROAT, a helpless smile on her face, Haley hid behind a large man to catch her breath and then rushed down the steps as best she could to the lower deck. What was this weird game they were playing and why was she playing it? Why didn’t she just leave?

Why? Because Jeb had lit a fire inside her that scared her silly. Being with him was like driving a Ferrari on the Autobahn with a learner’s permit. Roadkill. She’d been there before. Refused to be there again.

She had to get off this boat. Coming to the lower deck had been a mistake. He could corner her down here.

Alarmed by that thought, she moved to climb the steps but she wasn’t accustomed to stilettos. It took more skill than one might suppose. She tripped and nose-dived forward, wine splashing out of her glass. She would have hit the deck if a masculine hand hadn’t reached out to catch her.

“Are you okay?”

She glanced up to see Rick Armand, a respiratory therapist who worked at St. Michael’s General Hospital. He’d asked her out several times, but she’d put him off. She considered him a bit smarmy with his oversize porn-star moustache and the way he clicked his tongue and used his fingers like pistols, pretending he was shooting her. Still, she let him rescue her from Jeb. “I’m fine.”

“You lost your drink,” Rick said. “Let’s get you another.”

She was about to say no, when she glanced back to see Jeb giving her the eye. “Yes, that sounds good. Make it a salty dog, please,” she said extra loudly so Jeb would hear.

Rick took her empty wineglass and gave it to a passing waiter. “Would you like to come with me?”

Yes…yes, she would.

She accepted Rick’s hand and allowed him to lead her to the bar. It took everything she had in her not to look back to see the reaction on Jeb’s face. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing she cared what he was thinking about her going off with Rick.

As they stepped up to the bar, Rick placed a hand to the small of her back. Haley moved sideways and Rick dropped his hand. “Salty dog for the lady,” he told the bartender. “And I’ll have a beer.”

“Thank you,” she told him.

“I’ve never seen you looking like this,” Rick said, raking a lascivious gaze over her. “I like it.”

“Moment of temporary insanity,” Haley mumbled and tugged at the hem. A bandanna had more material in it. How did Ahmaya wear these skimpy dresses without feeling overexposed?

“I like it.”

The bartender placed their drinks on the bar. Rick reached over, plucked a pink flamingo stir stick from the holder, dropped it into Haley’s drink and stirred the salty dog before handing it over to her.

“The alcohol tends to settle to the bottom. You have to stir it to make sure it’s completely mixed. Don’t want that last swallow to be pure alcohol. Might go straight to your head.” Rick leered as if that was exactly what he was hoping would happen.

See, this sort of thing was precisely why she didn’t like wearing short skirts and stilettos. It had guys dripping all over her.

“Thanks for watching out for me,” she said sarcastically and stirred her drink vigorously.

“My pleasure.” Rick showed a row of small, crowded teeth. Shark.

What was she doing here with this dweeb? Oh, yeah, avoiding Jeb. She looked around for him, didn’t see him. Thank heavens.

They stepped away from the bar, walking to the back of the boat. Aft, she thought it was called. She touched the straw to her lips, took a swallow of the salty dog. Not bad. Tangy. Salty. Tart. She took another sip. Hmm, on second thought, it had a weird aftertaste she didn’t really like. Maybe she could dump the drink overboard.

“Your eyes sparkle in this lighting,” Rick said. “And with the full moon behind you, the night is picture-perfect.”

“Um.”

Rick started telling her about the souped-up Camaro he’d ordered and was having shipped in from the States, expounding at length on exactly how much he’d paid for it. Like, really, who cared if he’d blown a year’s salary on a car?

He pitched forward. “You’re not drinking your drink.”

“It tastes a little weird.”

“Do you want me to get you something else?”

“No, I’m fine.”

Rick held up his beer mug. “A toast?”

“To what?”

“To seeing people in a different light.”

Why not? “To seeing people in a different light,” she repeated.

They clinked glasses. Feeling obligated, Haley took another swallow. What was that weird aftertaste? It was just supposed to be grapefruit juice, vodka and salt.

“And to a beautiful night.” Rick raised his mug again.

“To a beautiful night.” This time, she barely sipped the drink. Okay, she was definitely going to have to pour it overboard when Rick wasn’t looking.

She meandered toward the edge, but before she could get there, a woozy sensation hit her and she wobbled on her heels. Whoa, those salty dogs sneaked up on you.

“Are you all right?” Rick loomed over her.

Back off, dude. “I’m fine.” She didn’t want him to know she was feeling tipsy. “I just need to, um…go powder my nose.” And get away from you.

It occurred to her that she was spending the night running away from men. She knew that most women would love to have two guys vying over them, but Haley found it annoying more than anything else.

“Could you excuse me?” she asked, pushing her drink at him.

He curled his hand around the glass. “Sure, I’ll be waiting right here.”

Making sure to take careful steps, she maneuvered through the crowd. She longed to go home, but she couldn’t drive like this. Not with her head swirling. She’d go to the restroom, splash some cool water on her face and then go find Ahmaya and see if she was in any shape to drive them home.

Seriously, she was such a lightweight. A few sips of wine and a quarter of a salty dog and her knees were buckling.

Carefully, she made her way from the bridge to the main deck. The party was in full swing. People were dancing all over the place to The Red Hot Chili Peppers singing “Under the Bridge.” How appropriate. She realized that Jeb must have handpicked songs for the evening. Slick. What else would she expect from him?

“Bathroom?” she asked a woman she knew from the hospital.

“The one on this level is occupied, but I heard there’s an en suite in Jeb’s cabin on the lower deck.”

“Thanks,” Haley said. Wow, was she actually slurring her words? This was why she didn’t drink. She could not hold her liquor.

As she clung to the stair railing that led to the lowest deck, her head spun so wildly that she had to stop several times and take a deep breath. Finally, after what felt like a hundred years, she stumbled into the bedroom.

Jeb’s bedroom.

A strange feeling passed through her as she stared at the bed and vividly imagined herself in it with Jeb. Oh, knock it off. She had to get into that bathroom and put some cold water on her face.

She sank against the door, clicked it locked in case anyone else wandered this way. She needed privacy until the dizziness passed. After a minute, she lurched toward the bathroom door. Heat swamped her body. Her mouth was like a desert. And those damn stilettos were anchors on her feet.

This didn’t feel right. Sure, she was a lightweight drinker, but this…this was more than being tipsy. This felt wrong.

Her vision blurred. She couldn’t think. Help!

She heard a knock on the door.

“Haley?” It was Rick.

He was the last person she wanted to see.

The door handle rattled. “Haley, are you in there?”

She might not want to see him, but she was feeling very weird and maybe he could help her. She opened her mouth to answer, but belatedly, it occurred to her that Rick might have put something in her drink. The salty dog had a funky aftertaste and he’d stirred it before he’d passed it to her.

Had she been drugged? How naive was she to have trusted him?

Her heart thundered in her chest as the truth of it hit her. Rick was a predator prowling outside, waiting to pounce. Thankfully, she’d had the presence of mind to lock the bedroom door.

The bathroom was so close and yet seemed a hundred miles away. Screw it. She was going to lie right down here on Jeb’s bed for a couple of minutes, just until the dizziness passed and Rick went away, and then she’d go find Jeb and tell him what she suspected had happened to her.

Jeb would know how to handle that lowlife Rick. A charming playboy Jeb might be, but oddly enough she trusted him. Beneath that party-hearty attitude, he was a good guy. She had to admit that.

Satisfied with her plan, Haley flopped headfirst onto the mattress and that was the last thing she remembered.

THE LAST GUEST LEFT at 3:00 a.m., as the cleaning crew Jeb had hired swept down the deck. By the time he paid the cleaners, the caterers and the parking-lot attendants, he was so exhausted he could barely keep his eyes open. The party had been a resounding success, but even in the midst of that knowledge, he was disappointed, because at some point during the night, Haley had slipped away without saying goodbye.

He’d been on the lookout for her, but hadn’t managed to see her again after she’d gone off with Mustache Rick. He’d found Rick, who was frantically searching for Haley, so he figured she’d given the smarmy respiratory therapist the slip, not him. Still, he would have liked one last conversation with her.

Never mind. He had other things to think about. Like getting home to Miami to see Jackie. He couldn’t believe it had been a year since they’d spoken, and he was eager to see her again and show her how much he’d changed.

He thought about his last conversation with Jackie, when she’d broken up with him. It had come as a shocker—because no woman had ever broken up with him. Jackie had been on her father’s research ship, the Sea Anemone, and he’d sailed up and tried to get her to blow off work and go sailing with him.

“Some of us work for a living, Jeb,” Jackie had said, clearly irritated with him.

“I work for a living,” he’d protested, giving her his biggest smile and an endearing wink.

“When was the last time you built something?”

Hmm, well, it had been over a year since he’d completed the Miami Beach condos, but everyone knew the Florida real-estate market was in the toilet. His strategy was simply to wait it out and have a good time while doing it. “I’ll be ready when the market turns around.”

“You have the luxury of waiting. Most people don’t, Jeb. You squander your time.”

“I don’t see things that way.”

“I do and I just don’t think this relationship is working. We’re too different.”

That comment had smacked him upside the head. “I can change.”

“Seriously? You come from money. It’s all you’ve ever known. You don’t really have to work. You’re a playboy at heart. I mean, c’mon, just look at the name of your yacht. Feelin’ Nauti. You summed yourself up quite neatly.”

“But don’t we have a lot of fun together?” he’d wheedled.

“Yes, that’s precisely the problem. All we do is have fun together.”

“What’s wrong with that?” he’d asked, puzzled.

“Nothing as long as it’s in small doses. But my life is ninety percent work, ten percent play. You, on the other hand, are completely the reverse. Ten percent work, ninety percent play. It’s not a lifestyle I desire.”

That had thrown him for a loop. All his life he’d been complimented on his ability to light up any room he walked into and now here was Jackie telling him that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “So let me get this straight. You’re breaking up with me because I’m too much fun to be around?”

“Precisely.”

“I’ll work.”

“Prove it.”

“How?”

“Go do something useful.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Find someone to help. Find something bigger than yourself to be a part of. Figure it out.”

“If I do that, will you give me a second chance?”

“Jeb—”

“Please,” he said, “don’t cut off all hope.”

She sighed. “All right. I’ll give you a year. If you can get involved with something meaningful and prove to me you’ve changed, we’ll see.”

“You won’t regret it,” he said, but she’d already turned back to her research materials.

The first thing he’d done was change the name of his boat to Second Chance, even though it was supposedly bad luck to change the name of a boat. The very next day, Hurricane Sylvia had churned up the Atlantic and a few days later slammed into St. Michael’s. Bad luck for St. Michael’s, but Jeb had taken it as a sign and he’d headed out to help rebuild the devastated island.

Jeb smiled smugly. Jackie had given him a much-needed wakeup call, and she was going to be so impressed at how he’d changed.

He shut off the lights, blew out the candles and stood on the deck in the moonlight. He was damned proud of what he’d done. He’d gone from thinking only of himself to putting others first, and he was so grateful to Jackie for setting him on this path. He couldn’t wait to tell her about it.

Bed. It was time to go to bed, but he didn’t have the energy to head down to his bunk on the lower deck.

He stretched, yawned, completely exhausted. His eyelids were heavy. He walked to the blue-and-white-striped bridge hammock, stretched out, cupped his head in his palms and stared up at the stars.

“I’m coming home a changed man, Jackie,” he murmured and instantly fell into a deep sleep.




4


Crab—To compensate for current or leeway by correcting the heading to one side of the actual course

THE SOUND OF HIS CELL PHONE announcing a text message woke Jeb at dawn. Bleary-eyed, he pulled a palm down his face, blinked at the pink rays of sun pushing up over the crystal-blue water.

Ding.

The cell phone in his back pocket reminded him about the text.

He blew out his breath, dropped his feet over one side of the hammock and fished in his back pocket for his phone. The text was from Jackie. His pulse leaped and he grinned widely.

Until he read the message.

To our closest friends and family. You are invited to the Fourth of July wedding of Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander Scott Marcus Everly and Jacqueline Michele Birchard at 4:00 p.m. aboard the Sea Anemone docked at Wharf 16, Key West, Florida.

We know our union is quick and unexpected, but when you’ve found your soul mate, there’s nothing to do but take the plunge. We would love to have the pleasure of your company. RSVP to Jackie @ JackieBirchard@seaanemone.com.

Jeb’s smile vanished. A muscle at his right eye jerked repeatedly. He had to read the text four times before the words finally sank in. Jackie was getting married on the Fourth of July. Six days from now. The precise number of days it would take Second Chance to sail from St. Michael’s to Key West in calm waters.

And she’d invited him to the wedding via text message!

“A bit cowardly, Jackie,” he murmured. “You could have had the decency to pick up the phone and call me.”

He got to his feet, shoved his hands through his hair, paced and cussed a blue streak. How could she do this to him? She’d promised she would give him a year to prove he could change, and now she’d gone and gotten herself engaged to some guy in the Coast Guard? What the hell?

Jeb had to admit his feelings were hurt.

To top it off, she’d used the words soul mate. Jackie did not talk like that. She didn’t believe in stuff like that. What had happened to her? She could not be thinking clearly. She must be caught up in some kind of lustfueled haze, like the one he’d gotten ensnared in when he almost had sex with Haley on the beach. It happened. He understood. He could forgive her. What he couldn’t do was let her make the biggest mistake of her life.

Distressed, he punched Jackie’s number into the keypad.

She answered on the second ring with a cheery, “Hey, Jeb, long time no hear.”

How could she sound so casual?

“I just got your text message,” he said tersely.

“Will you be coming to the wedding? I know it’s short notice, but it would mean a lot to me to have you there.”

“Jackie, you can’t marry this guy.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that to me?”

“Who else said it to you?”

“Boone, for one.” Boone was Jackie’s half brother. “He was a bit of a jerk about it, too,” Jackie continued. “At least I know you’re not going to be a jerk. You’re never a jerk about anything.”

“Well, I’m with Boone on this one. You can’t marry this guy.”

“I can and I will. I’m in love, Jeb. For the first time in my life. Truly, madly, deeply, forever and ever in love.”

“Okay, who are you and what have you done with Jackie Birchard?”

“I’ve changed, Jeb.”

“I’ve changed, too, Jackie. I’ve changed so much and I miss you. You can’t marry this Scott guy because I’m the man for you and I can show you if you just give me a chance.”

“Jeb.” She laughed. “You don’t love me.”

Laughed! She was laughing at him.

“But I do, Jackie, I really do.”

“You think you love me because I’m the only woman who has ever turned you down. The only woman who’s ever challenged you and called you on your crazy lifestyle.”

Not the only woman. Immediately, Jeb thought of Haley.

“How long have you known this guy?” he demanded.

“Only a month, but the time doesn’t matter. Not when it’s the real deal.”

“Listen to yourself. Do you really hear what you’re saying? You’re marrying a guy you’ve only know for four short weeks.”

“It’s all the time I need.”

“Jackie, you’ve got to believe me—”

“Are you coming to the wedding?”




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