“Emilie.” Matt put a warning tone in his voice.
She crooked her head back to look at him. “What? It’s weird.”
“It’s not weird.”
“It’s unusual,” Tasha said. “But women are up to nearly fifteen percent in the mechanical trades, higher when you look at statistics for those of us under thirty-five.”
Emilie didn’t seem to know what to say in response.
Matt’s phone pinged.
“Your ride’s here,” he told Emilie, ushering her toward the door.
Tasha stood to one side, and he watched until Emilie got into the car.
“You didn’t have to do that,” Tasha said as he closed the door.
“It wasn’t going well.”
“In that case, I’m happy to be your wingman.”
Matt zeroed in on her expression to see if she was joking. She looked serious, and he didn’t like the sound of that.
“I don’t need a wingman.”
“Tell me what’s going on.” He gestured through the archway to the living room.
She crouched down to untie her boots.
“You don’t have to—”
“Your carpet is white,” she said.
“I suppose.”
Most of the women he brought home wore delicate shoes, stiletto heels and such.
Tasha peeled off her boots, revealing thick wool socks. For some reason, the sight made him smile.
She rose, looking all business.
“Care for a drink?” he asked, gesturing her forward.
She moved, shooting him an expression of disbelief on the way past. “No, I don’t want a drink.”
“I opened a great bottle of pinot noir. I’m not going to finish it myself.”
“This isn’t a social visit,” she said, glancing around the room at the pale white leather furniture and long, narrow gas fireplace.
She was obviously hesitant to sit down in her work clothes.
“Here,” he suggested, pointing to the formal dining room. The chairs were dark oak, likely less intimidating if she was worried about leaving dirt on anything.
While she sat down, he retrieved the pinot from the glass porch and brought two fresh glasses.
He sat down cornerwise to her and set down the wine.
She gave him an exaggerated sigh. “I’m not drinking while I work.”
“It’s ten o’clock on a Saturday night.”
“Your point?”
“My point is you’re officially off the clock.”
“So, you’re not paying me?”
“I’ll pay you anything you want.” He poured them each some of the rich, dark wine. “Aren’t you on salary?”
“I am.”
“You work an awful lot of overtime.”
“A good deal for you.”
“I’m giving you a raise.” He held one of the glasses out for her.
“Ha ha,” she mocked.
“Take it,” he said.
She did, but set it down on the table in front of her.
“Twenty percent,” he told her.
“You can’t do that.”
“I absolutely can.” He raised his glass. “Let’s toast your raise.”
“I came here to tell you I might have made a big mistake.”
Three
Tasha reluctantly took a sip of the wine, noting right away that it was a fantastic vintage. She looked at the bottle, recognizing the Palmer Valley label as one of her parents’ favorites, and the Crispin Pinot Noir as one of their higher-end brands.
“You have good taste in wine,” she said.
“I’m glad you like it.”
His smile was warm, and she felt an unwelcome glow in the pit of her stomach.
To distract herself, she tipped the bottle to check the year.
“You know the label?” he asked, sounding surprised.
“Mechanics can’t appreciate fine wine?”
He paused to take in her expression. “Clearly, they can.”
It was annoying how his deep voice strummed along her nervous system. She seemed to have no defenses against him.
She set down her glass and straightened in her chair, reminding herself this was business.
“What did I say?” he asked.
“I came here to tell you—”
“I just said something wrong,” he persisted. “What was it?”
“You didn’t say anything wrong.” It was her problem, not his. “Pacific Wind broke down near Granite Point.”
“Another breakdown?”
“Like I said, a cable was broken.”
“But you fixed it.” He slid the wineglass a little closer to her. “Good job. Well done, you.”
“It shouldn’t have happened. I serviced it just last week. I must have missed a weak point.”
His lips tightened in what looked like frustration. “Why are you so quick to blame yourself? It obviously broke after you did your work.”
“The sequence of events isn’t logical. It shouldn’t have broken all of a sudden. Wear and tear should have been obvious when I was working on it.” She’d been mulling over the possibilities for hours now. “It could have been a faulty part, weak material in the cable maybe, something that wasn’t visible that would leave it prone to breaking.”
“There you go.”
“Or...” She hesitated to even voice her speculation.
“Or?” he prompted.
“Somebody wanted it to break. It’s far-fetched. I get that. And on the surface, it seems like I’m making excuses for my own incompetence—coming up with some grand scheme of sabotage to explain it all away. But the thing is, I checked with the fuel supply company right after we got back from Tyree. We were the only customer that had a water problem. And none of our other yachts were affected, only Orca’s Run. How does that work? How does water only get into one fuel system?” She gave in and took another drink of the wine.
“Tasha?” Matt asked.
“Yeah?” She set down her glass, oddly relieved at having said it out loud. Now they could discuss it and dismiss it.
“Can you parse that out a little more for me?”
She nodded, happy to delve into her theory and find the flaws. “It’s far from definitive. It’s only possible. It’s possible that someone put water in the fuel and damaged the pump. And it’s possible someone partially cut the cable.”
“The question is, why?”
She agreed. “Do you have any enemies?”
“None that I know about.”
“A competitor, maybe?”
He sat back in his chair. “Wow.”
“Wow that somebody could be secretly working against you?”
“No. I was just thinking that after-dinner conversation with you is so much more interesting than with Emilie.”
“So you think my theory is too far-fetched.” She was inclined to agree.
“That’s not what I said at all. I’m thinking you could be right. And we should investigate. And that’s kind of exciting.”
“You think it’s exciting? That someone might be damaging your boats and undermining your company’s reputation?”
He topped up both of their glasses. “I think it could be exciting to investigate. It’s not like anything was seriously or permanently damaged. It seems like more mischief than anything. And haven’t you ever wanted to be an amateur sleuth?”
“No.” She could honestly say it had never crossed her mind.
“Come on. You investigate, diagnose and fix problems all the time.”
“There are no bad guys lurking inside engines.”
“The bad guy only adds a new dimension to the problem
.”
She couldn’t understand his jovial attitude. There wasn’t a positive side to this. “There’s something wrong with you, Matt.”
“Will you help me?” he asked, his eyes alight in a way that trapped and held her gaze. His eyes were vivid blue right now, the color of the bay at a summer sunrise.
“It’s my job.” She fought an inappropriate thrill at the prospect of working closely with him. She should be staying away from him. That’s what she should be doing.
“We need to start with a list of suspects. Who has access to the engines and steering systems?”
“I do, and the contract mechanics from Dean’s Repairs and Corner Service. And Alex now. But she wasn’t even here when we had the Orca’s Run problem.”
“Was she in Whiskey Bay?”
“Yes but... You’re not suggesting she’s a mole.”
“I’m not suggesting anything yet. I’m only laying out the facts.”
Tasha didn’t want to suspect Alex, but she couldn’t disagree with Matt’s approach. They had to start with everyone who had access, especially those with mechanical skills. Whoever did this understood boats and engines well enough to at least attempt to cover their tracks.
“At least we can rule you out,” Matt said with a smirk.
“And you,” she returned.
“And me. What about the rest of the staff? Who can we rule out?”
“Can we get a list of everyone’s hours for the past couple of weeks?”
“Easily.”
“What about your competitors?” It seemed to Tasha that Matt’s competitors would have motive to see him fail.
“They’d have a financial motive, I suppose. But I know most of the ones in the area, and I can’t imagine any of them doing something underhanded.”
“Maybe they didn’t,” she said, realizing the enormity of her accusations. Never mind the enormity, what about the likelihood that somebody was out to harm Matt’s business?
She was reevaluating this whole thing. “Maybe it was just my making a mistake.”
He paused and seemed to consider. “Do you believe that’s what happened?”
“Nobody’s perfect.” She knew her negligence could account for the cable.
Then again, the water in the fuel of Orca’s Run was something else. It was a lot less likely she’d been responsible for that.
He watched her closely, his gaze penetrating. “Tasha, I can tell by your expression you know it wasn’t you.”
“I can’t be one hundred percent certain.”
He took her hand in both of his. “I am.”
Their gazes met and held, and the air temperature in the room seemed to rise. Subtle sounds magnified: the wind, the surf, the hiss of the fireplace. Heat rushed up her arm, blooming into desire in her chest.
Like the first rumblings of an earthquake, she could feel it starting all over again.
“I have to go.” She jumped to her feet.
He stood with her, still holding her hand. His gaze moved to her lips.
They tingled.
She knew she should move. She needed to move right now.
She did move. But it was to step forward, not backward.
She brought her free hand up to his. He interlaced their fingers.
“Tasha,” he whispered.
She should run. Leave. But instead she let her eyes drift closed. She leaned in, crossing the last few inches between them. She tipped her chin, tilted her head. She might not have a lot of experience with romance, but she knew she was asking for his kiss.
He didn’t disappoint.
With a swift, indrawn breath, he brought his lips to hers.
The kiss was tender, soft and tentative. But it sent waves through her body, heat and energy. It was she who pressed harder, she who parted her lips and she who disentangled her hands to wrap her arms around his neck.
He gave a small groan, and he embraced her, his solid forearms against her back, pressing her curves against the length of his body, thigh to thigh, chest to chest. Her nipples peaked at his touch, the heat of his skin. She desperately wanted to feel his skin against hers. But she’d retained just enough sanity to stop herself.
The kiss was as far as it could go.
She reluctantly drew back. She wished she could look away and pretend it hadn’t happened. But she didn’t. She wouldn’t. She faced him head-on.
His eyes were opaque, and there was a ghost of a smile on his face.
“You’re amazing,” he said.
“We can’t do that.” Regret was pouring in, along with a healthy dose of self-recrimination.
“But, we do.”
“You know what I mean.”
“You mean shouldn’t.” His closeness was still clouding her mind.
“Yes, shouldn’t. No, can’t. You have to help me here, Matt.” She stepped away, putting some space between them.
He gave an exaggerated sigh. “You’re asking a lot.”
She wanted to be honest, and she wanted both of them to be realistic. “I like it here.”
He glanced around his living room that jutted out from the cliff, affording incredible views of the bay. He was clearly proud of the design, proud of his home. “I’m glad to hear that.”
“Not the house,” she quickly corrected him.
“You don’t like my house?”
“That’s not what I mean. I do like your house.” The house was stunningly gorgeous; anyone would love it. “I mean I like working at Whiskey Bay. I don’t want to have to quit.”
His expression turned to incredulity. “You’re making some pretty huge leaps in logic.”
She knew that was true, and she backpedaled. “I’m not assuming you want a fling.”
“That’s not what I—”
“It’s hard for a woman to be taken seriously as a mechanic.”
“So you’ve said.”
“I want to keep my personal life and my professional life separate.”
“Everybody does. Until something happens that makes them want something else.”
Now she just wanted out of this conversation. “I’m afraid I’ve given you the wrong idea.”
“The only idea you’ve given me is that you’re attracted to me.”
She wanted to protest, but she wasn’t going to lie.
He continued. “That and the fact that you believe my company is the target of sabotage.”
She quickly latched onto the alternative subject. “I do. At least, it’s a possibility that we should consider.”
“And I trust your judgment, so we’re going to investigate.”
Tasha drew a breath of relief. They were back on solid ground. All work with Matt, no play. That was her mission going forward.
* * *
Matt couldn’t concentrate on work. He kept reliving his kiss with Tasha over and over again.
He was with TJ and Caleb on the top deck of his marina building, standing around the propane fireplace as the sun sank into the Pacific. The other men’s voices were more a drone of noise than a conversation.
“Why would anyone sabotage your engines?” TJ broke through Matt’s daydreaming.
“What?” he asked, shaking himself back to the present.
“Why would they do it?”
“Competition is my guess.” Matt hadn’t been able to come up with another reason.
Caleb levered into one of the padded deck chairs. It was a cool evening, but the men still sipped on chilled beers.
“What about your surveillance cameras?” Caleb asked.
“Not enough of them to provide full coverage. They’re pretty easy to avoid if that’s your intention.”
“You should get more.”
“I’ve
ordered more.” It was one of the first moves Matt had made. He took a chair himself.
“Did you call the police?” TJ asked, sitting down.
“Not yet. I can’t imagine it would be a priority for them. And I want to make sure we’re right before I waste anybody’s time.”
“So, Tasha is wrong?”
Matt found himself bristling at what was only the slightest of criticisms of Tasha. “No, she’s not wrong.”
“I’m just asking,” TJ said, obviously catching the tone in Matt’s voice.
“And I’m just answering. She’s not one hundred percent convinced yet either. So, we’ll wait.”
“Until it happens again?” Caleb asked. “What if it’s more serious this time? What if whoever it is targets more than the marina?”
“Are you worried about the Crab Shack?” Matt hadn’t thought about the other businesses in the area, including the Crab Shack restaurant run by Caleb’s new wife, Jules, who was five months pregnant with twins.
“Not yet.” Caleb seemed to further contemplate the question. “I might ask Noah to spend a little more time over there.”
“Nobody’s going to mess with Noah,” TJ said.
“He’s scrappy,” Caleb agreed.
Caleb’s sister-in-law’s boyfriend had spent a short time in jail after a fistfight in self-defense. He was tough and no-nonsense, and he’d protect Jules and her sister, Melissa, against anything and anyone.
“What about your security cameras at the Crab Shack?” TJ asked Caleb. “Would any of them reach this far?”
“I’ll check,” Caleb said. “But I doubt the resolution is high enough to be of any help.”
“I’d appreciate that,” Matt said to Caleb.
It hadn’t occurred to him to worry about Tasha’s or anyone else’s safety. But maybe Caleb was onto something. Maybe Matt should take a few precautions. So far, the incidents had been minor, and nobody had come close to being hurt. But that wasn’t to say it couldn’t happen. The incidents could escalate.
“Matt?” It was Tasha’s voice coming from the pier below, and he felt the timbre radiate through his chest.
He swiftly rose and crossed to the rail, where he could see her. “Are you okay?”
She seemed puzzled by his concern. “I’m fine.”
“Good.”
“Never Fear and Crystal Zone are both ready to go in the morning. I’m heading into town for a few hours.”
Twelve Nights of Temptation Page 4
