Like now.
She fought for the presence of mind to smile at all that hunkiness.
Then came the fireworks.
His smile—straight, perfect white teeth—held a hint of mischief and seduction and the power to kick her feet from beneath her as she tiptoed down the gunwale to secure the back canopy and check gas-tank levels. Mostly for a reason to get a closer look at this hottie. The sound of the second boat flying into the marina barely registered. Her eyes were still locked on the hottie’s take-me-I’m-yours mouth.
By the time her brain had caught up with her girly parts, the vast wake from the second boat’s way-too-fast approach had set up a tsunami strong enough to rock her big tour boat and knock those aforementioned metaphorical feet right out from under her. Unsuspecting and still enthralled by the stranger, Casey went blindly over the side.
At an angle. Not straight and backward.
Her skull clipped the stern on her way over the side. The beautiful masculine smile she had fixated on disappeared when everything else went black.
~ ~ ~
Life was often funny or full of irony, Aidan thought, as his runabout cut across the Gulf toward the tiny tourist town of Cypress Key. He had more money than ninety-nine percent of the population in America, and yet he wasn’t happy. Worse still, he couldn’t say why he wasn’t happy. He enjoyed brief spates of happiness, usually when he spent time with or helped out his friends. Like today, fishing with Ian. He’d hoped that somewhere along his Gulf Coast tour he might figure out what in this world could finally make him happy.
Once upon a time, he would have been anxious to get back to his next business venture with Cross Enterprises, building his five-star golf resorts all over the world. The luster had left that rose in recent months. No doubt his uncertainty was tied to two of his closest friends, Rhett and Garrett, getting married. There was a time the three of them thought marriage wasn’t in their particular stars. Sure, Aidan wanted a wife and a family. Eventually. The execution of the act is what seemed impossible. Finding a woman unaffected by his money seemed an impossible task. Women were always after his money.
Fortune and Fate had other ideas and had smiled on both Rhett and Garrett. Each one had found a woman who loved the man, not the bank account. Yet, it had been hell for his friends getting there. Clinging doubts about women always being after their money had almost submarined both of their relationships. Aidan would never deceive a woman about his identity or pretend he didn’t have money like Garrett had tried.
No sirree!
Everything with him was on the up and up. No doubts for him. Aidan would know if his woman really loved him. His instincts were razor sharp, and his instincts would shape his story. He would not go in search of love. Love would have to find him.
Now, if he could just get his business acumen back on track, he could look forward to his next project and shrug past all this weird angst and uncertainty. He could only hope this cruise and his time off just playing golf would fill the gaps in his soul and re-ignite the fire for his future projects.
A slip of land appeared on the horizon, and Aidan spied what looked like a tour boat up ahead as he glided between an offshore island—Cypress Key from the dozens of satellite photos his acquisition team had provided—and a sandbar of roosting pelicans. Amazing albino pelicans he promised himself a closer look at later.
The tour boat motored toward a marina on the mainland so that was the boat he followed. Shrimp trawlers littered the length of the gulf shoreline in both directions.
Cruising closer, he could see the marina was small by South Florida standards, and the forty-foot tour boat looked almost full. He let the vessel dock before he slid his runabout into the marina, careful not to set up any wake since the tour patrons were already disembarking on the short dock. Slowly he angled the boat in and used the pair of dock cleats directly behind the tour boat. He could always move his boat later if someone had paid for the space, but for now, he needed to ask this tour guide for directions. His satellite cell had shown only one boat repair shop, and he hoped there were more, or he could get scalped on repairs.
The tour guide was female, though he based his judgment on the blonde ponytail at the back of her head. She turned to bid goodbye to her patrons and accept proffered tips. Her profile halted his exit from the runabout. Definitely female, no makeup, peaches-and-cream complexion, possible freckles—too hard to tell from the side—and emerald-green eyes. Or rather eye. If the right half of her face matched the left, he may be in for a real treat.
Turn slightly so I can see you, sweetheart.
Still he didn’t exit the boat. Just watched the blonde guide—clad in basic khaki cargo shorts and a matching khaki shirt with some type of pocket logo—make each tour patron feel as if they had been the only guest on her boat. She greeted each one by name and remembered personal tidbits that her excited guests had shared during their cruise.
The last guest to leave was a geriatric, white-haired patron in a pair of those hot-pink long shorts Aidan’s girlfriends called capris. He knew all about capris since too many of his previous dates accidentally left them behind after visits to his Palm Beach home. All the girls had eventually called and asked to come back and get them. When women were that obvious about seduction, he FedExed the capris back to them.
When the geriatric guest finally stopped talking and delivered a hug, the female guide seemed way too accommodating. The grandmother padded down the wooden dock toward her matching capri-wearing, white-haired friend in the parking lot. The blonde tour beauty shoved the bills in a pocket without counting her tips, and she blessedly turned.
Yup. Lord be praised. The right side matched the left. The effect was stunning.
The beauty looked right at him. She’d no doubt sensed his boat’s arrival. No frown, though her eyes widened almost imperceptibly. If he hadn’t been staring into them, he may not have noticed. Maybe the slip was open for rental.
Aidan knew he turned women’s heads without trying, and mostly it annoyed him. Because the aforementioned women then made a pass at him. He wanted to be the chooser in any hookup. This particular beauty could stare as long as she wanted. Instinct assured him he could still be the chooser here.
The blonde stole his breath. He wasn’t usually a go-after-blondes guy, except for the brief crush he’d had after meeting Rhett’s wife Lily, though she wasn’t yet Rhett’s when Aidan met her. He could make a second exception for this fresh-faced beauty.
Her green eyes reminded him of twin emeralds, visible even from here. Eyes that bored into your soul and squeezed at your heart. Despite the desire tugging at his body, his faithful instinct suddenly cried out, This woman will be important to you.
His little tour guide hopped from a bench to the gunwale with grace and then tiptoed down the narrow ridge to the stern. He couldn’t help but grin at her athleticism and balance. Her eyes never left his, though his may have wandered down to her beautiful tanned legs and back up.
She stopped dead. Her lips, luscious and a perfect pink, twitched and then stretched into a smile.
Aidan’s heart threatened mutiny if he didn’t get closer. The woman was gorgeous.
How rosy could he make those lips with a properly-delivered kiss?
Aidan heard the whine of an incoming boat. Ignored it. Assumed the craft would scoot to one of the multitude of slips and docks on the other side of the boat ramp. Plus, he refused to take his eyes off his smiling tour guide just yet.
Assumed, as the saying went, often made an ass of me.
The large incoming pleasure craft swooped to a blunt landing on the other side of the dock by throwing the powerful engine into reverse to halt forward motion. The subsequent tsunami-sized wake had no such reverse or brake and pitched his boat and the tour vessel up on a roiling crest and back down, sending his green-eyed girl into a dive.
Headfirst.
Over the side.
Grabbing for balance himself, he couldn’t tell if she made a clean entry. He scrabbled toward the bow of his boat.
One second.
Two.
Three.
Four seconds. Too long.
The water looked to be six or seven feet deep at low tide. The beauty should have surfaced. He kicked off his shoes and went over the side at the spot where she went down. The fool driver of the errant boat hollered, “Hey!” but Aidan kept going.
The dark marina water made it hard for him to see her. Aidan went by feel more than sight when he searched. Precious seconds elapsed until his hand felt a sneaker. He tugged the beauty’s motionless body from beneath the darker shadow of the tour boat and bolted for the surface.
Forcing her head above water, he made a straight shot between the boats and under the dock—only possible, Thank God, due to low tide—and gained his footing at the base of the boat ramp. He swung the girl up and into his arms.
When he reached shallower water, he angled her front first over his arm. She coughed twice and spit out a couple mouthfuls of seawater. At the top of the ramp, he stepped up onto the dock, then knelt and laid her down prostrate, ready for CPR.
He put an ear to her chest. Grabbed a limp wrist and felt for a pulse, then heaved a sigh of relief at her slow but steady heart rate. She coughed. He put his ear to her nose and mouth and detected breathing. Shallow, but air in and air out.
Come on, baby. Open those beautiful green eyes for me.
“You there!” The late boat arrival glared down at him.
Aidan ignored the jerk and scooped the unconscious woman into his arms, ready to sprint for the parking lot for a ride or directions to the closest doctor or hospital.
An arm grabbed Aidan and swung him around. The jerk was tall, only a couple inches shorter than Aidan’s six foot three. Had the look of a football player going to seed with a belly paunch already committing a false start. Dark-haired and glowering . . . a fight picker who now blocked his path. Aidan had no time for this.
“Don’t you touch her!” Jerk shouted.
“I’m taking her to the nearest doctor,” Aidan hollered back at him, “and you’re going to tell me where that is.”
“You’re not taking her anywhere!”
“That your boat?” Aidan nodded at the newly arrived sleek speedboat just to clarify.
“Yes. Now leave her alone!” the pompous jackass commanded.
“You don’t know how to drive a boat, you knocked her into the water, and you deserve this!” Aidan planted a foot in the ass’s gut and booted him backward into the marina’s dark water.
Not waiting to see if the guy surfaced, Aidan jogged toward two guys backing a boat trailer down the ramp. “Where’s the closest doctor?” he demanded.
The driver pointed up the street. “Three blocks straight ahead at the corner of C Street and Third. The Davis Walk-in Clinic. It’s not a hospital, but it’s a good-sized facility. All we got in Cypress Key. You want us to call 9-1-1?”
“I can get there before the ambulance arrives,” Aidan called back over his shoulder as he hoofed it through the parking lot and out to Third Street.
The beauty breathed on her own, and her heart beat slow but steady. Yet panic had settled on him all the same. He forced all he had into his strides, seeing the goose egg on his beauty’s forehead growing larger and her beautiful face growing paler. She felt so tiny and helpless in his arms, and the wave of protectiveness that hit him almost made him stumble. Thankfully, the observers who stared from the side streets they passed were also helpful and provided last-minute directions when Aidan called out.
Bursting through the automatic glass doors of the clinic, Aidan was met by a nurse who directed him to an examining room where he laid the beauty down on the only bed.
“Doctor Davis will be right in,” said Nurse Hansen, according to her nametag, and Aidan threw up his hands in frustration.
He slid the only chair next to the bed and took the beauty’s hands. Some calluses he noticed; she obviously was used to physical work. Not the kind of woman he usually dated. You’d be hard pressed to find a single callus amongst the lot of them. He stared at her flawless skin with the spray of freckles across her nose. An inexplicable urge to count them as he kissed them hit him hard.
Her eyelids fluttered, quieted, then cracked open. As before, her incredible green eyes nipped at his heart.
“Hey there,” he whispered and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“Who—?” her voice rasped. She tried to clear her throat.
“Take it easy. You swallowed some seawater. Your throat must be sore.”
She frowned and tried again. “Who are you?”
He smiled, knowing he shouldn’t, but damned if he didn’t want to kiss her even at a time like this.
“Name’s Aidan. I pulled you out of the drink. You’re at the Davis Clinic.”
Another frown. Probably trying to remember.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“My pleasure.”
Her eyes closed and didn’t reopen. He squeezed her hand. Nothing. Aidan scowled. Just as he went to drag the doctor back here, a young man in scrubs, mid-thirtyish, strode into the room and stopped to eye Aidan’s wet clothes. This guy’s nametag read John Davis, M.D.
“What happened?” Davis felt for a pulse.
“One minute she was balanced on the gunwale of her boat, the next she was in the water. I didn’t see her hit her head, but the goose egg on her forehead says different. She came to a few minutes ago, then went out again.”
The doctor’s frown said not good. He gently lifted each eyelid and flashed his light in her eye. The pupils looked dilated, even to Aidan.
Davis narrowed his eyes. “How did she fall off the boat?” he asked as he held a stethoscope to her heart, then her lungs. Definite accusation in that tone.
Aidan stiffened. “A wave rocked her tour boat hard and sent her over the side.”
The doctor’s shoulders relaxed marginally.
“How do you know Casey?” His tone swept back to accusatory as he stared at the hand in Aidan’s grasp.
Protective. Maybe a boyfriend.
“Casey?” Aidan repeated. The beauty had a name. A cute name.
“Casey Stuart.”
“I don’t know her. I saw her go over the side, and I dove in when she didn’t immediately surface.”
Davis gaped for a few seconds and started to say something when a commotion outside the examining room stopped him.
“Where is she?” a male voice demanded, loud enough for the whole clinic to hear. “Where’s my niece?”
~ ~ ~
Casey heard the voices. Familiar voices.
Uncle Frank? Why is he yelling?
“Let go of her!”
She fought her way up through the darkness just like when she sank beneath the tour boat and couldn’t move. A hand gripped hers. Warm. Secure. She remembered a face. A name. Aidan.
Fighting her traitorous eyelids, she forced them apart so she could see who was yelling and who held her hand. First one eyelid opened. Then two. Both promptly slammed shut at the blinding light.
The large hand engulfing hers gave a gentle squeeze.
“Come on, baby,” a deep voice said softly.
She tried again. First the left eye, then the right. Just a crack.
Beautiful blond-streaked hair, a touch too long. A large strong hand gripped hers. Broad, way broad shoulders, and then . . . those same sneaky chocolate-brown puppy-dog eyes. They had made her throat go dry on the boat. No mischief in them, now. Worry? Concern?
His big hand squeezed again. “Glad you’re back.” His voice sounded gent
le. Secure like his hand. “How’re you doing?”
She could wrap that deep voice around her like a cocoon and melt into those concerned, heart-stopping-brown eyes.
“Okay, I think.”
He leaned over. For a closer look? Or a kiss? Or dear Lord, please let it be a kiss. She hadn’t had one in almost a year, and that one had been utterly forgettable—an ambush by PJ Bartow.
“I said, Let go of my niece!”
“Now, Frank, take it easy,” someone grumbled.
The spell was broken. That voice belonged to her Uncle Frank. She turned her head to find him and winced. Moving her head hurt.
“That, I don’t like to see.”
Another voice. She shifted just enough to see Dr. John Davis.
“Just lie still, Casey.” Davis signaled to someone in the hall, and Davis’s male nurse bustled in with a gurney.
Davis moved back into her line of vision. “I think you may have a concussion, Casey. We need to do some tests.”
She groaned, and he quickly added, “They won’t take long.”
Staying awake was too hard, her eyelids proved too heavy. She squeezed back at the warm hand rubbing soft circles on hers as if to say I’m sorry, and let the darkness take her.
Chapter 2
Aidan shared the clinic lobby with the beauty’s Uncle Frank who looked none too pleased with him. The uncle said nothing, just glared. Aidan ignored him.
“How is it you brought my niece in here?” Frank finally asked.
“She fell off her boat at the marina. I went in after her, and I’m not leaving until I know she’s okay,” Aidan said flatly, in case the guy tried to send him on his way.
“Hmmph.”
Aidan pulled out his cell phone—waterproof, thank his secretary—to call Ian. A large hand came into view, and he glanced up.
PAR FOR CINDERELLA Page 2
