The Cottage on Rose Lane

by Hope Ramsay

  He studied her cutoffs and worn-out flip-flops. If she was a spy from Santee Resort Group, she didn’t look the part. But then, Santee Resorts wouldn’t have sent a woman in a suit to mess with his head.

  “I just doubled my price,” he said. “I don’t think you can afford five hundred dollars an hour.”

  “Oh.” Her mouth pinched into a kissable O.

  “Yeah, I thought so.”

  She blew out a breath and then dug in her purse, coming up with a wallet, from which she pulled an American Express platinum card. “Okay.”

  Damn. Should he confront her or just take her money?

  In the back of his head, a small voice that sounded a lot like Greg Rushford suggested that taking her money would be appropriate, seeing as she’d come here to spy on him and she was clearly working for a corporation that had no respect for what he was trying to save. He sure didn’t have to tell her anything about anything if he didn’t want to. He could simply make her pay and then take her out for capsize drills.

  Now, that was amusing. The idea of anyone paying a grand for two hours of being unceremoniously and repeatedly dumped overboard was downright hilarious.

  “It’s your money,” he said. “But I told you, the sailing school in Georgetown is cheaper, and the instructors there are all certified.”

  She crossed her arms. “And I’m telling you that I’m not interested in certified instructors. I want you.”

  Had she lost her mind spending a thousand dollars for two hours with Jude in a small boat?

  Probably. In her life before her grandfather dumped his money on her, she would have never done anything so outrageous. In fact, for the last year she’d hardly touched her allowance. She’d lived at the ashram for months, doing chores, scrubbing floors, cooking for others.

  But she had no choice. Jude knew Harry, and she had to find some way to get him to introduce her. When you considered the personal stakes, spending a thousand dollars for two hours in a boat didn’t seem like too much at all. Especially since she had the money, and by the seedy looks of Barrier Island Charters’s office, Jude could probably use the income.

  She gave him the American Express card that Milo had arranged for her—of course it was a platinum card; Milo wouldn’t have settled for anything less. Jude ran the charge, and they headed down to the boatyard to get Bonney Rose ready to sail, a process that required setting up her mast, rigging her sails, and replacing the broken hiking strap.

  Before they set sail, Jude bought a couple of ham sandwiches and some bottled water from Rafferty’s, which he put into a big waterproof bag and stuffed into the cubby in the bow where the boat’s sails and PFDs were stored.

  On Wednesday they’d sailed around the harbor, but today Jude turned the boat south along Jonquil Island’s western coastline, thick with salt marshes. As they sailed, they fell into an easy rhythm of tacking while Jude gave her a tour of this portion of the bay. He knew these waters, the fish that lived here, the way the landmasses affected the winds. His voice conveyed his love for this beautiful paradise.

  Jude relaxed as they sailed, and his killer smile came out to shine like the sun above them. That smile triggered a deep and unwanted yearning in Jenna’s core. Her life was complicated right now, and getting involved with anyone would be a mistake. And yet she could imagine herself having a little fling with this man.

  Whoa, girl. Better focus on the sails and not the skipper.

  They dropped anchor right in a little cove where the water was shallow and ate their sandwiches.

  “So, I have a question,” he said.

  She smiled at him. “I know. You’re wondering why I spent so much money for this lesson, right?”

  His lips twitched. “Well, yeah. But that wasn’t my question.”

  “Oh?”

  “Why were you at the town hall meeting yesterday?”

  Uh-oh. She should have seen that one coming. And for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what she’d said when he’d first asked that question yesterday. Her face heated. “I’m interested in business,” she said.

  “Ah, so you’re not in favor of the petition, then.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “What kind of business are you interested in?”

  “All kinds of business. I have an MBA. I think the fight between preservation and development is interesting.”

  “You make that sound like it’s an academic question.”

  He had her there. For Jenna it was. For Jude it was anything but. She blew out a breath. “I was very impressed by your passion,” she said.

  He slipped his sunglasses down on his nose and gave her a wicked look out of those tawny eyes. “That sounds condescending.”

  Her face heated. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I was truly moved by what you said and how you said it. If I had a culture that was disappearing, I’d feel the same way.”

  “Would you?”

  “Are you angry with me for something specific, or is this just you having a chip on your shoulder?”

  His eyes widened. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that I can’t possibly understand how you feel. But I can admire you for the way you express yourself. In fact, you made me curious. I spent some time yesterday reading up about Gullah culture.”

  “Good for you,” he said, crumpling up his sandwich wrapping. He didn’t sound as if he was all that approving though.

  But before she could press him further, he said, “Lunch is over. It’s time to get wet.”

  “Get wet?”

  “Yeah. We’re doing capsize drills. Didn’t I tell you?”

  “Uh, no, I don’t think so.”

  “Well, we are. It’s an important part of sailing.” He hauled up the anchor and got under way again while Jenna’s heart rate skyrocketed. She wasn’t sure she wanted to experience another capsize. But she had the feeling that protesting his plans would be futile.

  A moment later, he said, “Okay, be ready. In a minute I’m going to do something stupid that’s going to cause the boat to heel up and go over. When that happens—even before water spills over the leeward gunwales—you need to crawl over the windward edge and get to the centerboard. Do not let go of the jib sheet.”

  “Aye,” she said, trying to parse out all the new vocabulary. Suddenly all her academic study went right out of her head, and her heart rate climbed even higher.

  An instant later, the boat heeled up. She freaked. Bonney Rose rolled over on her side, dumping both of them backward into the bay.

  “Well, that didn’t go too well,” Jude said. “But at least you’re still holding the jib sheet.”

  She glanced at the line in her hand. How had that happened?

  “I’m going to show you how to right the boat.” He directed her to float alongside the cockpit while he clambered up on the centerboard and rocked the boat upright. As the boat rolled, Bonney Rose scooped Jenna up, and she found herself ignominiously sprawled over the centerboard cap.

  “Okay,” she said, climbing over the blocks and cleats that seemed hell-bent on bruising her. “How do we get the water out of the boat?” There was at least six inches inside.

  He grinned at her, as if he were thoroughly enjoying this opportunity to make her feel dumb. “Not a problem,” he said as he opened a couple of latches on the bottom of the boat. He took the tiller, turned the boat into a tack, and Bonney Rose lumbered into motion like a heavy bathtub. But as they moved, the water flowed out of the latches in the bottom of the boat, and within a couple of minutes they were sailing at speed once again. “These racing boats are built for any disaster you can imagine,” he said. “So, let’s try it again, shall we?”

  “What, going over?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Yup.”

  “But—”

  “I’m teaching you fundamentals here. Capsize drills are super important if you want to sail fast.”

  Well, that shut her up. She ground her teeth and endured as he ma
de the boat capsize two more times, all with the same result. The first time, he made her climb on the centerboard and rock the boat upright. And after the second time, she fully understood why the object of this lesson was to stay inside the boat and not get dumped overboard.

  “Getting up on the centerboard is exhausting,” she said, wishing there were enough room inside the small cockpit for her to stretch out and take a nap.

  “Yup. And just think about how much harder it would be in deep water.”

  She gave him a venomous look, which bounced right off his beautifully sculpted body. He was having way too much fun, as if he was trying to teach her more than a sailing lesson. What was up with that? “Why do you hate me?”

  His brow lowered. “I don’t hate you.”

  “Okay, if you don’t hate me, then why don’t we find a nice beach somewhere and—”

  “No. You hired me to teach you how to sail, remember? And just to be clear, I don’t get involved with tourists.”

  “What? I didn’t—”

  “I know. Get ready. We’re going to do this again.”

  “But this isn’t sailing.”

  He pushed his sunglasses down his nose and gave her another look that made her swallow back the tart remark she’d been about to give him. Instead, she nodded and said, “Okay, let’s do this thing.”

  Jude got the boat moving again, the self-bailers draining water from its cockpit. “Ready?” he shouted.

  “Ready, aye,” she responded, feeling slightly silly but determined.

  The boat heeled up. Water spilled over the edge. But this time, instead of freaking out, Jenna threw one leg over the side, riding the boat like a horse. Her foot found the centerboard. She stood, throwing her weight back. The boat came back up in the water.

  She knew a moment of true exhilaration. Right before the jib sheet slipped from her hand and Bonney Rose ignominiously dumped her overboard.

  “Good work,” Jude shouted from his spot in the back of the boat as Bonney Rose sailed away from her.

  He was teaching her a lesson, but which lesson was hard to figure out. He was mad at her about something. Probably some stupid, ignorant, and insensitive thing she’d said about his culture. That’s what she got for complimenting him on his passion.

  “Don’t worry,” he shouted as the boat got farther away. “I’m executing the man-overboard drill.” Just when she thought he was about to abandon her, he tacked the boat.

  Wow, he was impressive, single-handedly controlling the tiller and the mainsail and the jib as he executed a figure eight and brought Bonney Rose right alongside her. He stood up in the back of the boat, managing to keep it flat and stable. “Grab the shroud and climb back in.”

  Jenna did as she was instructed, secretly thrilled that she’d understood what a shroud was. She pushed herself up on the gunwales, but even in shallow water, getting back in the boat required more upper-body strength than she possessed.

  When she was about to give up, Jude grabbed her arms and hauled her back into the boat. She fell forward against him for an instant, her whole body registering the hard muscles in his chest. The boat rocked unsteadily, and an eternity passed as he took her by the shoulders and steadied her. He’d lost his sunglasses, and she lost her breath as she gazed into his amber eyes.

  Hormones Jenna had forgotten she possessed flooded through her system. She might have lost her mind and kissed him if he hadn’t sent her back to snag the tiller and keep the boat from dumping them both again.

  Okay, so maybe that explained his behavior. She was hot for him, and he was so not hot for her. So maybe a few more dunkings would cool down her suddenly raging libido.

  She found her position in the front of the boat, inwardly scolding herself for letting her hormones take charge. She turned back to glance at him, prepared to see him scowl. But instead a slow smile blossomed on his face like a rare flower, revealing white, white teeth against his dark skin. “Next time you need to remember to climb back into the boat after it starts to flatten. Let’s do it one more time.”

  It was a challenge now. She pointed right at him. “Let’s go.”

  He nodded, and Bonney Rose took off. This time, when the boat heeled up and the water started coming over the side, she was too tired and too determined to panic. She moved up and over the edge in slow motion, her foot finding the centerboard.

  Jude was right there with her this time, climbing up onto the gunwale while holding the mainsail sheet, which he’d uncleated with a flick of his wrist. The sails flapped, and the boat began to roll back to an upright position. She pushed off the centerboard and ended up in the cockpit as the boat settled back down, mast upright, in the water.

  “Holy crap. I did it,” she said. Then she turned toward him. “But you helped this time.”

  He nodded. “I know. That’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  “What?”

  “When the boat broaches like that, it’s not just the crew that has to get it back under control.”

  “Wait a minute. Are you saying you could have helped me every time?”

  He grinned. “Yup.”

  Damn. He didn’t know what to make of Jenna Fairchild. If she’d been sent by Santee Resorts to spy on him, then they’d done a real good job of sending someone with a sense of humor.

  She’d taken his abuse and then some. She’d complained a little, but she hadn’t whined once. She hadn’t cried. She hadn’t gotten frustrated. And it bothered him a little that she thought he had a chip on his shoulder.

  But how could he trust anything she said about her reasons for being here? She was obviously not a tourist in the usual sense. And she had money to burn, as evidenced by her platinum AMEX card.

  He aimed Bonney Rose north toward Magnolia Harbor, letting the sun dry his skin as he studied the way she managed the jib. She’d learned something today. And she had a nimble grace that he admired.

  And then there had been that moment when she’d stumbled into him during the man-overboard drill. Damn. His whole body had reacted in a totally adolescent manner.

  Is that what Santee Resorts had sent her for?

  If so, they were freaking geniuses. Despite his rules about golden-haired tourists, Jenna Fairchild turned him on in a way no other woman had in a very long time. But she stood against everything he was trying to protect. And he truly resented the fact that she’d tried to compliment him on his passion.

  He could almost taste the disappointment on his tongue. A man could get used to sitting back here watching her cute ass as she ducked under the boom with every tack. He could get used to the light that glimmered in her brown eyes when she figured something out. He could get used to her.

  Without a doubt, that’s why the enemy sent her here.

  He headed for the dock, and she managed to furl the jib and hop up onto the pier as if she’d been doing it all her life. Good God, maybe she had been doing it all her life and she’d just been playing dumb the whole time. Man, that really steamed him.

  He studied her while she helped him get Bonney Rose onto the trailer. She was one hell of a good actress, peppering him with questions about the rigging, pretending she really didn’t know the first thing about folding sails.

  When the boat was put up, she turned toward him with a cocked head. “Want to get a bite to eat at Rafferty’s? I’ll buy.”

  Why was that such a temptation, when he knew damn well she was a liar? He hated liars, but for some weird reason, he liked Jenna Fairchild. Which made no sense, of course. Not logically anyway.

  He shook his head. “No. Sorry. I can’t. I’ve got a big charter coming in tomorrow, and I need to get Reel Therapy ready. Maybe some other time.” In truth, the boat was shipshape, but that might not be true of Daddy.

  “When can I get another lesson?”

  Damn. “Uh, look, I—”

  “I’m willing to pay whatever rate you name.”

  Of course she was; it wasn’t coming out of her pocket. “I don’t know. I need to chec
k my schedule.”

  “I’ll call you,” she said, and then turned and walked away, the sun lighting up her windblown hair like a halo.

  He watched for a long time. That glow was misleading. The woman didn’t have a halo. He checked his waterproof sailing watch. It was well after one in the afternoon. He needed to intercept Daddy before he got too friendly with a bottle of Jack.

  He needed Daddy sharp and sober tomorrow because it took two people to manage Reel Therapy on a fishing charter. One person to pilot the boat and another to schmooze the clients. Daddy was real good at the latter, but only if he wasn’t recovering from one of his benders. This time of year, as the business slacked off for the season, Daddy had too much time on his hands, and that was always a problem.

  If only Daddy would go to rehab and get himself sober. Jude had been pressuring him for a long, long time. Last winter, he’d thought his father had finally seen the light. Jude had checked Daddy into the rehab center in Georgetown, but Daddy had left after only three days, insisting that he didn’t need to talk 24/7 about his feelings and life’s disappointments. Talking about those things just made him want to get a drink.

  After that fiasco, Colton told Jude he should walk away.

  But it wasn’t that easy. Jude could get a job working at any of the charter companies on Jonquil Island. He was respected by the other captains, and he had his master coast guard certification. He knew these waters like the back of his hand—better than many other captains. But he didn’t want to work for the man. He wanted to work for himself. Like Daddy had. Like Granddaddy had. Hell, Colton worked for himself. He should understand, but he didn’t.

  The way Jude saw it, it was time for him to take over the family business. But Daddy was hanging on to it for dear life. The boat’s title was in Daddy’s name. The lease on the office space was in Daddy’s name. Jude couldn’t just kick Daddy out, even if Daddy had no business captaining a boat anymore.

  If Jude walked away, Daddy wouldn’t shut down the business. He’d try to run it, and he’d take some unsuspecting tourist out on the water and get himself into trouble. Jude wasn’t going to let that happen. He had a responsibility to keep people safe.