by Mia Marlowe
His uncle had people. Words like ‘captain of industry,’ ‘mover and shaker,’ and her father’s favorite for the uber-rich, ‘robber baron’ sprang to her mind. She knew it was rude, but curiosity was about to eat her alive. “What exactly does your uncle do?”
A frown creased his brow but it was gone so quickly Sara was sure she imagined it.
“Uncle Nick has his finger in lots of pots. I guess you could call it distribution and security mostly,” he said as he settled in the chair kitty-cornered from hers. “Look, I know I promised you lobster for lunch, but we’re going to have to make do with something here.”
“Make do? In case you haven’t noticed, this is not exactly roughing it.”
“Braxton tells me the cook has whipped up something. How do you feel about sushi?”
“About how I feel about bait.” Her blue-collar upbringing was definitely showing, so she hastened to add, “But I’ll try anything once.”
She was competent enough with chopsticks not to embarrass herself, but only because she’d learned to use them eating her mother’s Irish version of chop suey. To her relief, the sushi was much better than she expected, a delicate concoction of flavors. Sara detected crab, avocado and celery in the rice-wrapped bites and she mixed so much wasabi with her soy sauce, her eyes watered with each mouthful. She’d never equate sushi with bait again.
When they finished lunch, Ryan led her out onto the terrace. The view from this rarified site was even better than the point of land where they’d lost the T-bird.
It still worried her that he hadn’t contacted the police. “Did you tell this Mr. Grellner about my situation?” Sara asked. “You know, about my involvement with the Valenti thing.”
If she didn’t let herself say murder, it felt less horrific.
“No, I didn’t,” he said. “To be honest, it didn’t occur to me.”
“But don’t you think the two things are connected somehow?” She tucked a wayward strand of hair behind one ear. “Matthew warned me not to tell anyone about what I’d seen and then it all hit the papers anyway. Even so, I didn’t really think I’d be in danger. It’s not like I could identify the guy or anything. At least the reporter was kind enough to include that little tidbit. All I did was raise the question of…murder.”
The word set her teeth on edge.
“Who’s Matthew?” Ryan asked, seizing upon the one unimportant detail of what she’d just told him.
“My ex. He’s a cop.”
Ryan didn’t say anything for a moment, but his frown told her he was churning through the possibilities. Finally he shook his head.
“Who knew you were coming with me today?”
“Nobody.” It wasn’t like she met with a clutch of girlfriends for coffee any more. It was too hard to follow multiple conversations flying across a bistro table.
“So that means someone would have had to be watching your place when I picked you up this morning and then followed us all the way up here on the off-chance they could shove us into the sea.”
She shrugged. “I guess it is a stretch. Especially since you landed on my doorstep in the dead of night.”
“Not going to let that go, are you?”
She grinned. It was a relief to know he didn’t think a killer had stalked her all the way to Maine. Then her smile faded. “But if it wasn’t related to Valenti, why did it happen?”
Ryan’s lips pressed together in a tight line. “Why did Newtown happen? Why did Boston Marathon bombing happen? People do terrible things to other people because they just don’t give a damn about anybody else.”
His face hardened and a muscle ticked along his jaw. If this expression was anything to go by, Sara suspected he had quite a temper. When he looked down at her, his features softened. He raised a hand to push back a few of her windblown locks and stayed to stroke her cheek.
“At least, thank God, the only casualty today was my bird.”
Sara sighed. “I’m so sorry. It was a beautiful car. Maybe someone had T-bird envy.”
“Maybe,” he said, his expression carefully blank. “But my car was just a thing. If insurance money can fix a problem, it’s not too bad. But it still leaves us with the question of how to get back to Boston. Now, I know my uncle wouldn’t mind if I borrow one of his cars.”
Sara wondered what sort of cars a man who owned a home like this would have in his garage. A Mercedes? A Jag? Or maybe something more classic like say, a Bentley?
“But I’d really rather not take any of his wheels. So if you don’t mind taking the long way, we can take my boat,” Ryan said.
Visions of a Bentley disappeared in a puff of vapor. She looked at the sleek craft tied up at the dock. Boats were money pits, even for the rich and famous. Again, she wondered how Ryan supported himself. “Your boat?”
“Yeah,” he said with a self-deprecating shrug.
“Do you sell drugs or something?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them.
“No,” he said with a snort.
“Then how can you afford a T-bird and a boat? Oh, and a condo in a luxury high-rise?”
“Maybe I should let you talk to my accountant and he can fill you in on all my assets,” he said with an amused grin. “Just to make sure I’m up to your standards.”
She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean it like that. Forget I said anything.”
“It’s ok. I know what you do for a living. Turn and turn about,” he said. “I’m working on my doctorate now, and you know about my stint with the Seals.”
“No one working with the service makes that much, not even civilian contractors.”
“You got that right,” he agreed. “While I was at MIT, I had this idea to put together a few encryption programs. I tinkered with it for two years, nights and weekends. Before I graduated, the defense department wanted the programs, so a big league contractor bought me out. It made sense because they had the resources to support the programs and I was only interested in development,” he said. “So once I had the money, I bought a few toys. Satisfied?”
Embarrassed was more like it.
“The WaveDancer is mine, but I keep her here during the summer months. I have a slip on the Mystic River for her too and I really need to move her back down before fall.”
“Kind of a long drive to go sailing.”
“Yeah, but if I start sailing north from here, I miss all the Boston traffic.”
“And I know how you feel about traffic,” she teased.
“So why don’t you go back up to the guest suite and pick out a few more things? Be sure to get a swim suit. The water’s cold, but the sun is warm.”
“What about Lulu?” she said. “I’m not sure what kind of a sailor she’ll make and she’s not paper trained.”
“I’ll figure something out. Of course, with this late a start, we won’t make it back home today,” he told her. “We’ll have to tie up someplace tonight.”
Sara stepped back a pace. She never considered that they might not make it home today. “I don’t know what you’re used to, but I don’t spend the night with someone on the first date.”
Or the second. Or the third. In fact, except for a few pretty intense petting sessions, she and Matthew arrived at the altar with their innocence mostly intact.
But she wasn’t a kid anymore and Ryan was making her feel things she’d only felt for Matthew. Things she wasn’t sure she was ready to feel for someone who wasn’t Matthew.
“If you want to get technical, this isn’t our first date,” Ryan said. “We’ve had coffee three times and we stayed so long yesterday the barista threatened to throw us out, so we might even be able to count that twice. But if it makes you feel better, there are two staterooms on the WaveDancer.”
He took her hands in his and looked down at her. “I’m not going to lie to you, Sara. I’m a guy. Of course, I want to sleep with you.” His words sent a warm shiver over her skin. “Very much. But I’m not going to pressure you into something you don’t wa
nt.”
Sara swallowed hard. What if it was something she did want? Very much.
But didn’t dare have.
The meningitis that took her hearing nearly killed her, but she’d never felt closer to dying than the night Matthew admitted he’d cheated on her. He ripped out her soul, leaving the sad, little pink naked thing exposed by the harsh light of his betrayal. Now it was safely shriveled in on itself, hunkering within her tightly locked heart. She swore she’d never let a man get close enough to hurt her like that again.
And now she was dangerously near to allowing Ryan in. He was looking at her with an intensity that scared her.
He seemed encouraged by her silence.
“You get first pick,” he offered. “The aft cabin has the best bed, but the one in the prow has a skylight in case you want to look at the stars.”
The sea and the stars. Had this man somehow invaded her dreams and plucked out all the unspoken wishes she’d ever had so he could tempt her with them?
“Ok, but just so you know, whichever one I pick, I’m going to sleep there alone,” she said. At least this time.
Chapter 9
The WaveDancer was a thing of beauty, all soft, buttery leather seating and brass-trimmed teak. Aside from keeping her new-penny clean, Ryan normally didn’t spare much attention for the finer points of his 47-foot SeaRay. He was more interested in the bristling nerve center of electronics and navigation up on the sedan bridge or the twin Cummins diesel motors below deck.
But when Sara set foot on his little sports yacht, he was quietly proud that WaveDancer was a pretty as well.
“It’s amazing,” she said after he’d given her the full tour.
Sara claimed the smaller forward berth. The fact that she’d forego a little comfort in order to see the stars through the overhead skylight pleased him. He appreciated the need to feed the soul.
Evidently, Sara did, too. He wondered how many other things they’d have in common.
“But I still don’t see how we’ll manage with Lulu on board,” she said with a frown. “I’d hate for her to have an accident on your beautiful boat.”
“Not to worry. Here comes our solution now.”
Braxton approached the WaveDancer’s slip, bearing what appeared to be a gardener’s flat. But instead of pots of begonias, the wooden tray was filled with lush green sod. Ryan took it from him and bolted the flat to the swim platform on the stern of the vessel.
Lulu tiptoed around the sod, sniffing with interest. Then she climbed into the grass-filled tray and marked the space as hers.
“There we are.” Ryan stood and returned his tools to one of the many stowage compartments. “One marine puppy potty, field tested and deemed satisfactory. We just need to make sure Lulu’s leashed when we’re underway or she might go overboard. They hand out tickets for chumming for sharks, you know.”
Sara punched his shoulder. “Don’t even think it.”
“We’ll be getting underway soon,” Ryan said. “You might want to change into something a little more casual. There’s a lounge for sunbathing up on the bridge.”
“Sounds like you just want to get me into a swim suit.”
“Too obvious?”
“Yeah,” she said with a smile. “But it’s working. I’ll be right back.”
She slipped through the main salon and galley and headed down the companionway stairs to the lower cabins.
“We’re ready to cast off,” Ryan said to Braxton. “Slip that cable for me, would you?”
The butler complied.
“When are you expecting to see my uncle again?”
“Mr. Garibaldi is in the Cayman’s at present, sir.” Braxton said stiffly. “He does not confide his every action to me. One of the stipulations for my service here, you understand. I have no idea of his exact itinerary.”
“Visiting his money, no doubt,” Ryan muttered under his breath. Braxton was no fool. He knew what Nicholas Garibaldi was, but he used his extreme decorum to distance himself from his employer. “When he gets back, after he’s had a chance to talk with Grellner, tell Uncle Nicky I need to speak with him.”
Braxton reached for the aft cable, but didn’t toss it to Ryan immediately. Instead, he fidgeted with the nylon mooring line.
“Sir, perhaps one is speaking out of turn, but the last time you and your uncle spoke…” He tactfully let the rest of his thought go unvoiced. “Do you think it wise to renew your… dialogue?”
“Wise? Probably not,” Ryan conceded. “But it’s necessary.”
Chapter 10
Sara propped Lulu on her shoulder and let the little dog cling as best she could as Sara climbed the ladder to the sedan bridge. Ryan was seated before an array of instruments that looked like something from NASA. He’d stripped off his shirt. The sight of the broad expanse of his tanned back and shoulders made the climb well worth the trouble.
When he turned to look at her, his blue eyes darkened to cobalt. He loosed a wolf whistle, pitched low enough for her to hear.
Sara flushed with pleasure. She was no size 2, but the figure-hugging maillot made the most of her curves. Down in her cabin, she’d pulled her hair up into a messy pony tail and then scrutinized herself from all angles in the full-length mirror on the back of the door. She’d been moderately pleased with the result, but didn’t trust herself to be the best judge of such things.
One of the hardest things about Matthew’s cheating was the way it made her feel about her body. She constantly looked for why he strayed. Most often, she looked in her mirror. If she’d had bigger boobs or a tinier waist, would it have made any difference?
Ryan’s obvious appreciation for her figure was a balm for her ego.
“You look incredible,” he said.
“I’ll look like a boiled lobster if I don’t get some sunscreen on,” she said, brushing off his compliment. It was still hard to believe she deserved one. “I am the whitest of white girls.”
“I’ll help with your back,” he offered as he handed her a tube of industrial strength sun block.
“Don’t you need to steer?”
“Pilot,” he corrected. “I can put her on auto for a while.” Without waiting for her response, he punched the appropriate buttons and toggled a switch or two.
Sara spread a beach towel over the leather lounge and lay on her stomach. Her swimsuit’s front was designed to display the hollow between her breasts and a generous bit of their curves, but the back of the maillot was truly daring. Cut low enough to almost, but not quite, show the crevice of her bottom, Sara felt half-naked under Ryan’s gaze.
If his smile was any measure, he’d not found her wanting. She turned her head away and closed her eyes, sure that under the spandex, her bottom was blushing pink as her other cheeks. The boat’s motor rumbled through her. Ryan rested a hip on the lounge next to her and dribbled a line of cool lotion down her spine.
Then came his hands. Warm. Strong. He kneaded her flesh with gentleness.
Not being touched was one of the hardest things about being single. Her skin rioted in pleasure. When he moved down to the backs of her thighs and calves, she jerked and raised herself on her elbows.
“Want me to stop?”
She hesitated a moment. “It’s been a long time since anyone but Matthew touched me like that.”
Like never. Matthew had been her one and only. He was the man by which she’d measure all others.
And she had to forget him if she wanted to remain sane.
She lowered herself onto the towel again and cast Ryan a glance. “It’s ok. You can keep going. Thank you.”
He ran a lotioned hand down the full length of her smooth leg. “My pleasure, believe me.”
Mine, too, she added silently.
He finished massaging the sunscreen into the backs of both her legs and then returned to the navigation console. Sara watched him from under half-closed lids. The small hairs on his forearms glinted golden in the sun. His aftershave wafted toward her, brisk and male.
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She was so acutely aware of the man it almost hurt to look at him. She turned her face the other way. The rumble of the motor pulsing through her, the gentle sway of the craft over the waves, the sun on her skin all conspired to relax her completely. She slipped into a light doze.
“Time to flip over,” his voice dragged her back from the edge of what promised to be a rather naughty dream. “You’re done on that side.”
She ran her hand over her face and complied. The cheek that had been turned to the sun felt hot and just the slightest bit like a toasted marshmallow. The light sheen of perspiration covering her limbs blended smoothly with the sunscreen she applied to her front side.
“Still ready to help,” he offered.
“No thanks,” she said. “I’ve got it. Actually, I’d better take cover, too. It doesn’t take much sun to send me into a four alarm burn. One summer, I fell asleep by the pool and I woke with blisters on the backs of my knees. I was walking like Frankenstein’s monster for a week.”
“Did you pick out a cover up?”
“No.”
“You can use my shirt,” he offered, handing her the polo that he’d draped over the back of his chair.
She slipped the polo over her head and felt instantly more comfortable. It shielded her not only from the sun, but from Ryan’s gaze as well. Not that she didn’t appreciate his interest in her body.
She appreciated it too much. She watched him at the console for a few minutes.
“It doesn’t look too hard to drive. Do you think I could give it a try?”
“First the T-bird, now my boat,” he said with a grin. “You have control issues, don’t you?”
She thought about protesting this observation, but it was hard since he was right. Since her impairment, there were so many things beyond her control. When she could, she liked to take charge. She lifted her hands in mock surrender.
