Waves of Passion (Wild Women Trilogy Book #1)

by Danika Steel

  I was always happy to see Will making a beeline for The Amber Rose as soon as school let out. And at the end of a long afternoon of hard work, caring for the boat and managing the days catch, Kelly and my mother would join us for dinner. I am the world’s worst cook and am no longer allowed in the kitchen, but Kelly and my mother are culinary geniuses…otherwise I would have starved a long time ago.

  It was wonderful to see Kelly and my mother in the kitchen together. They brought some life and laughter into my home and they always made a sumptuous meal from the days catch. My favorite was fish pie, quick and apparently easy to cook, but the flavors they managed to infuse were unbelievable. There was nothing better than a home-cooked meal with good friends and family to enjoy it with. This was something all my guests commented on without fail. Prior to every journey, my mother and Kelly would stock my freezer with dozens of prepared meals that my passengers devoured with zeal after long days of fishing and sailing. My mother always did her best to give the boat a good once over when she visited before my journeys at sea. I didn't have the time or inclination to clean so it was nice to have a woman's touch now and again, I drew the line however at letting Kelly and my mother make it too frilly. I was a single man after all and I'd never gone in much for all of that fancy stuff. I liked minimalistic, the inside of the boat reflected my personality; 'like a shipwreck' Kelley would joke.

  When Will was still a young boy, he tried desperately to get his mother and I to fall in love in the hopes that we would become a real family. Kelly and I sat him down and carefully explained how we were already a real family and neither of us would ever leave him, but we wouldn't be getting married. It wasn't long after that I started calling him son and I asked Kelly if she minded if Will called me dad. A sad smile touched her lips and she heaved a trembling sigh of regret. She admitted it wouldn't be fair to deny him the father he wanted when he'd never known the real father who loved him as an infant. We made it official a few months later when Kelly asked if I wanted to adopt Will. I'd never been so happy in my life as I was the day when I asked Will if I could adopt him. He was about thirteen years old and had been so determined to act like a man, but when I asked him if I could be his legal father, he flung himself into my arms and sobbed. It has only been a few years since that day, but I can't imagine my life without my son.

  When my mother finally realized that Kelly and I would never be more than friends, she took up her matchmaking again…this time for both of us. Kelly was better at dodging her ploys that I was, but I'd learned how to switch off from her unrelenting pleas about meeting a woman. Only when I turned the tables on her and asked her where the man in her life was, did she withdraw. We all three understood how hard it was to move on after the tragedies that took our loved ones. It felt like a betrayal to Amber and my father and Jason, although I'm certain all our loved ones would have wanted us to be happy. We were happy in our own way and I knew if I ever found someone to love it would be because it happened naturally and not because I'd been hunting for someone to fill a void that couldn't be filled.

  Kelly was always eager to help my mother with cooking and occasionally cleaning, but she had her own career as a doctor at the local clinic and I didn't want to take too much of her time by asking her to help with Anglers Rest. My mother was my business partner and we spent a great deal of time together in that capacity. She took on the responsibility of keeping the paperwork organized and managed the finances, but we worked together to develop our plans for each trip. We spent many a night pouring over client applications. We always had a good giggle at some of the more ridiculous requests we received from people who didn't have the first clue about sailing or fishing.

  My mother thought she was sneaky, but I knew she was systematically vetting the female applicants in the vain hope I would fall in love while at sea with a beautiful woman. Whenever she made a tactical move, moving a certain applicant to the top of the pile, I would privately roll my eyes and agree with her, then I would do my own thing. Her attempts never resulted in anything beyond friendship with clients I enjoyed spending time with.

  One of the applicants that moved to the top of my mother's list was a beautiful young girl named Terry who had shown an interest in learning to sail. Her form was duly filled in and her photo was clipped to the front page, she was admittedly a very lovely girl, and as my mother pointed out, she seemed intelligent and her conversation would reflect that. I however spotted at the bottom of the form that she had asked whether there would be electrical outlets on board the boat so she could plug in her hair straightener. I found the question a telling one– it wasn't an intelligent remark at all and anyone who wanted to straighten her hair on board a boat in the middle of the ocean was not someone I wanted on my boat. Mother was appalled that her application form went in the bin accusing me of being shallow.

  It was during the late spring of two-thousand-ten that we sat outside the boathouse going through the plans for our June trips. Mother, as usual was on top of everything and as I signed all the legal documents; the insurance papers, mooring licenses and safety equipment, we went through the latest application forms. A lot of things had to be taken into consideration while planning our journeys. For instance, any specific needs or concerns, needed to be addressed long before we set sail. I also made it a priority that all my passengers be equally skilled, so as to keep everyone on the same page throughout the trip.

  There were about a dozen application forms in front of us and I'd noticed mother had set two of them apart from the rest. When I questioned her she explained that they were more experienced than the rest of the applicants and had requested a more intimate, informal trip– neither applicant knew each other, but had very similar needs in terms of what they wanted out of the trip. I understood that perfectly. Someone with vast experience didn't particularly want to spend time out at sea with someone who'd no experience at all, it only resulted in frustration and disappointment and a wasted opportunity if truth be told. A lot of my competitors didn't seem to understand that concept.

  We were busy planning several trips of seven days each and we allowed three days on either side of the trip for preparation and disembarking. This meant, theoretically we could do two trips per month. After separating the applicants into six sets of equally skilled passengers, we were booked for the next three months, which would take us right up to the end of the season before the weather turned cold. We very rarely fished throughout the winter periods, it just wasn't safe and I didn’t particularly enjoy ice fishing. The weather would often turn against us even in the summer and it made the trip less enjoyable, sometimes even dangerous. I wasn't prepared to risk myself, the Amber Rose or my clients who trusted me with their safety.

  Reading through the 'experienced, intimate' forms, it was decided that this was to be the next trip, and since it was such a small party, I would have to tell Will he wouldn't be joining us. I hated disappointing him, but I also liked making sure he had ample time to spend with his mother…so she wouldn't kill me. Setting the forms down we agreed that I was going to be joined on board by Denna Rhodes, a young woman from Alaska and a cowboy from Wyoming called Jack Weston.

  The standard forms I issued had general questions on them and both Denna and Jack had answered them efficiently. I was pleased to see also that there were no questions about hair straighteners. I had my own system (more practical than my mother's), in which I would read the answers to the basic questions, then I would look at their photos and then read their 'About Me' section, this section allowed each applicant to write a bit about themselves in their own words. This told me a lot more about them and gave me a slight insight into their personalities.

  In this section, Denna had written several short sentences, they were clipped and matter of fact. I could already tell she and I would get along well.

  'I am an experienced deck hand and sailor both in short and long haul trips. I work outdoors on a daily basis and I'm no stranger to hard work. I work well in a team but I can also work
on my own initiative. I prefer to be responsible for my own actions and I'm convinced I'd be quite happy on a deserted island left to my own defenses.'

  It was curt and it intrigued me. Denna lived off the land in Alaska which wasn't for the faint-hearted, she sounded interesting, like a girl who liked a challenge, not many women could say that and not come across as fearsome.

  In Jack's 'About Me' he had gone for the short, sweet and humorous style of disclosure.

  'I'm a cowboy, I like everything outdoors and I mean 'everything''

  I wasn't too keen on his choice of revelation, but he was the only other applicant that matched up to Denna's boldness and outdoors lifestyle. For instance, had I matched her up with one of the other applicants, such as Hugo Breach, who worked for a financial company in the city, neither client would have had anything in common and the whole trip would have been a letdown for everyone, me included. I was holed up with these people for quite some time and it would be nice if I could leave them to communicate without my constant supervision.

  My mother and I agreed on Denna Rhodes and Jack Weston for my August companions. She took their numbers and confirmed their bookings. We would set sail early on the Saturday after their Friday evening arrival.

  “Pass me their photos mom.” I wanted to see who I was going to be living with during the trip, it wasn't that important, but age did sometimes matter a great deal, especially for conversation purposes.

  If I was to hazard a guess I'd say Denna was in her early thirties and Jack was in his mid thirties making us all roughly the same age, which sounded pretty good to me. People on the same wavelength with interesting stories made the trip even better. Very often, it wasn't so much about how things developed up on deck as it was to how people interacted down below. Upstairs people had responsibilities and roles to fulfill so it was nice when they were sociable too.

  Arrangements were made and I would be expecting them both at the weekend. In the meantime, there was a lot of preparation involved that I needed to take care of myself. Leaving me to it, my mother said she would be back before the weekend with the food for the voyage. Thank God for Kelly and my mother, they would be busy cooking for the next few evenings, leaving me plenty of time to spend alone with my son before I had to leave him for the seven night voyage.

  I woke bright and early on the Friday morning of my next trip. I was always filled with anticipation and hope on these mornings before meeting my next passengers. The weather was crisp; a t-shirt was acceptable, but jeans were necessary in the cool August morning. The sun was shining and there was no forecast of rain, but, out at sea, that was sometimes a different matter. It had been known to change so violently and so I was always cautious and prepared for the worst-case scenario. As I poured my first cup of coffee, I heard my mother calling from the quayside.

  “Come on in,” I shouted to her, pouring another cup for her.

  “Oh Seth, you're going to need to come and help me with this lot,” she chirped.

  I popped my head out of the cabin, she wasn't kidding when she asked for help. She had a plethora of freezer bags all lined up along the dock, waiting to be brought on board and stored in the freezer.

  "Mom we've only got three passengers this trip and that includes me!" I exclaimed.

  "Kelley and I decided to get the freezer stocked for the next few trips since you're booked solid for three months.

  My mother and I watched as the night trawlers returned from their dark and arduous, midnight journey, the giant seagulls rasped and circled the air. Very often, even before you could see the boat on the horizon you would know it was on its way back. The telltale black cloud of birds following its path indicated they would be home soon. The birds swooped and fought in the air, screeching and calling to each other, if they were lucky enough to catch any treats from the fishermen there would be a full on scavenging match in the sky; fish, feathers and bird crap showering down on the ocean. Most of the people living on the marina possessed pump action water pistols, which they used as a deterrent to the seagulls. Otherwise, boats, sidewalks and people's heads were in danger of being pebble dashed with entrails and other not so nice remnants. A couple of our nearby neighbors were now aiming and shooting as my mother and I hurriedly took the bags on board.

  Once in the safety of the galley I made another pot of coffee-- the only culinary act I was allowed to tackle in my own kitchen-- and we got down to work, sorting through the final paperwork before our guests would arrive later this afternoon. Just as we finished printing the last of the insurance forms for our clients to sign, we felt the boat rock as someone stepped on board.

  “Anyone down there?” came a deep, male voice.

  I popped my head through the galley hole and standing, shadowing the sun from my eyes was a tall but stocky man who I assumed to be Jack. He looked every inch the cowboy; rugged with that perpetual tanned skin of someone who spent a great amount of time outdoors; but he had small shifty eyes and something of a permanent sneer on his face and a shock of unruly blonde hair that was a little too long at the back to be described as manly. He wore a tartan lumberjack fleece and was just a little too Brokeback Mountain for me, but my first impressions could be wrong.

  “You must be Jack?” I asked climbing the steps up to the deck, extending my arm. Jack and I shook hands, it was a firm handshake with a positive warmth and his face broke into a broad grin while surveying my beloved boat. He seemed pleased and confident, if not a little cocky.

  “Nice place you got here Captain,” he remarked.

  “Thanks, it's what I like to call home so, consider it yours too for the next couple of days.” I gave Jack a friendly slap on the back and gestured for him to make his way to the cabin on the right.

  “My mother is on board too but only until we set sail. Mom, this is Jack Weston, the first of my guests.”

  "Ma'am," Jack greeted her politely, grabbing his bags and following her down to his cabin. I could hear my mother showing him around, helping him get settled. I always found this to be a great help, I wasn't really good at the whole meet and greet aspect of my job, even though I was constantly meeting new people. I'd just never felt completely comfortable with one on one introductions. I was much more at home with my guests once they'd settled in and it was a group situation, it was much less awkward for me. Having mother deal with that kind of thing was far preferable than me bungling my way through my piteous attempts.

  So far so good, Jack seemed pleasant enough, I hoped Denna to be the same. I had a few small, last minute jobs to take care of before we could be ready to launch early tomorrow morning. I wanted everything set to go before Denna's arrival so my guests could enjoy a nice dinner and sunset to begin their trip with.

  “Anything I can help with Captain?” Jack asked as he came up on deck.

  “Not at all, please enjoy yourself tonight. Have a look around, you'll be busy enough once we set sail and my guests aren't expected to do any labor until we do,” I explained

  “Fair enough…good Lord would you look at that?” his head tipped towards the marina path.

  I looked up to see a woman walking toward us with determination. She cut quite an intimidating figure marching across the dock with military precision, her long dark ponytail swishing angrily behind her. She was wearing a puffy white vest, a snug gray tshirt that fit her shapely body and black cargo pants that hung attractively from her hips. Her steel-toed boots echoed on the aged wooden dock and her eyes were hidden behind aviator sunglasses. I found it rather sad that there wasn't even a flicker of a smile on her lips as she tossed her bags up on deck. Without a word, she climbed aboard and took off her sunglasses. Her skin was dark and I realized she had some kind of Latino heritage, and her dark eyes flashed suspiciously around, surveying her surroundings. She obviously had a hard edge, but I thought she was stunning all the same.

  “I presume you're Captain Seth?” I wasn't actually sure whether it was a question. It felt more like I was being 'told'.

  “Yes
and you are Denna, I presume?” I wanted to precipitate my greeting as she had done but mine didn't come out quite the same. I noticed Jack giving her the once over and by the look on Denna's face, so had she.

  “Is there something I can help you with?” she coldly enquired.

  “I sure hope so honey,” Jack replied with clear amusement.

  Oh boy, I thought to myself, this wasn't going down well at all. The last thing I'd banked on was a horny cowboy and a woman who could strip wallpaper with just one look. Perhaps this coupling wasn't such a good match after all. Jack was behaving in a very predatory manner but it was clear right from the start that Denna was no pushover, not exactly the vulnerable prey that Jack was obviously used to. How quickly my first impressions had shifted of him, I secretly hoped that it was a fleeting blip in their meeting and that once ground rules were set things would settle down. The last thing I wanted was to be living the next few days in a pressure cooker.

  Denna's eyes narrowed, “Look at me like that again and I feed your crown jewels to the sharks, understand?" she arched her brow in his direction.