Masquerade by the Sea — A Read by the Sea Contemporary Masquerade Romance Series

by Traci Hall

  She smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners. “Let me give you the run down. The Masquerade is a party charter. I inherited the boat just over a year ago, and made a few changes.”

  “Like the pink fur and disco ball.”

  “Right.” Jolie nodded at him as if giving him points for remembering their earlier conversation. “We get a great discount on the marina slip because I volunteer for Ocean Green, which Jamison owns along with the marina.”

  “Sounds like a non-profit kind of thing.” Heath volunteered on the ski patrol back at Brighton resort. Well, he used to. Now what good was he? He exhaled. “What do you do exactly?”

  Laughing, a low sound that made him want to laugh too, she said, “If you stay, we’ll be a team. Which means you help me and Rajah monitor the sea grasses. Make sure the signs along the canal are posted properly.”

  “Sea grass!” He acted like he was taking an imaginary toke.

  “Not that kind of grass.” She smiled, her mouth wide. Inviting. “It’s underwater. Jamison has been teaching me how important it is to the ecological waterscape. Nutrients for certain types of fish that can only be found here in South Florida.”

  Heath enjoyed fish. Purchased at a restaurant. Preferably deep fried. “What else?”

  “Watch our carbon footprint by using clean fuel, biodegradable products where I can. Party,” she gave an exaggerated wink, her dark brown lashes sweeping down toward her cheek. “Responsibly.”

  She could do an ad, he thought, and get a million converts. “Do we work every day?”

  “I wish.” Jolie sighed. “The business is pretty competitive and there are a lot of boats vying for customers. We’re getting a steadier list, which is good. I’ve only been in business a year. Masquerade Party Charter has a decent reputation.”

  “You’d have to be cream of the crop for Kendra to choose you. The fact that you are environmentally aware was probably a draw, too.”

  Her cheeks turned a rosy color, deep pink due to the tan shade of her skin, and she cleared her throat. “We want to keep her happy. Anyway, we go out consistently on the weekend and about two days during the week. We’re working toward all seven days.”

  Heath hadn’t seen anybody’s eyes actually sparkle before, but Jolie’s did. “No rest? You don’t want to work too hard.”

  She picked up another napkin and started to shred the corner. “I’ve put everything I own into refurbishing this yacht. Rajah keeps this one working, but my biggest fear is that the engine will conk out during a charter.” Jolie laid the fringed napkin flat. “But what I really want? A fleet, with Masquerade as the head ship. A business that my family would be proud of.” She shrugged and her soft pink tank top shifted across her shoulders. “Silly, I guess. Especially once you see my list of things that need fixed before I start dreaming about more yachts.” Her skin was the color of a caramel apple, or a toasted marshmallow done just right.

  Would she taste as sweet?

  Jolie’s ringlets were pulled in a loose tail down her back. She wore flannel pajama shorts with darker pink hearts against the light background, her long legs toned as she stretched them out beneath the small table.

  She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, even up close and after a long day at work.

  Her full lower lip widened into a smile. “What are you looking at? Do I have rice on my face?” She put her hand to her cheek.

  He cleared his throat and glanced away. “Nothing. Sorry.” He got up and piled the dishes from the table, careful to keep his full weight off of his left leg. Heath set them down in the sink, keenly aware of Jolie as she joined him.

  The galley wasn’t large by any means, so it would be difficult to move around without touching. God, his skin prickled in anticipation of contact. Her arm to his arm, her hip to his.

  “Just rinse them,” she said. “The dishwasher is full, so we can do them in the morning.” She stood behind him at the sink, smelling like some flowery perfume. No, it was the jasmine tea she’d been drinking.

  God, he had to go to bed before he kissed her.

  Suddenly he couldn’t think of anything he’d ever wanted more. He turned, and carefully avoided looking at her mouth. What would she do if he touched her lower lip?

  Before he realized it, he’d pressed the pad of his thumb to her rose-colored mouth, tracing her lips. She stared at him, wide-eyed and breathless, her chest rising and falling, her tank top sliding off her shoulder.

  Heat jumped from his thumb to his groin and he slipped her tank top up her arm, caressing her soft flesh. She blinked and put her hand above his heart, splaying her palm above the thud, thud.

  He traced her collarbone, her nape, to bury his hand in the hair at the back of her head. She closed her eyes and leaned toward him, her face raised and her mouth slightly open in invitation.

  Dipping down, he bent to capture her lips and taste the sweetness of Jolie when his leg cramped viciously and it was all he could do to keep from shouting out in pain. Angry at himself for forgetting he was a mangled mess, he gritted his teeth and lightly brushed her mouth with his. He pulled back and stepped away, noting the look of confusion on Jolie’s face.

  He walked quickly down the hall toward his room, and away from his new boss before he humiliated himself.

  “Heath?”

  “Good-night, Jolie.”

  Chapter Five

  He’d been about to really kiss her.

  Worse? She’d wanted him to. She’d felt bereft when he’d pulled back after that feather-light pass of his lips over hers, when she knew he’d been about to make her toes curl with passion. What had happened? Her dreams of loss weighed heavily, making it difficult to wake up this morning.

  The soft rocking of the boat against the dock tempted her to snuggle under the covers. The digital clock on the end table blinked 9:00, and Jolie knew she had to get her ass out of bed. Money, no matter how hard you wished, just didn’t grow on trees.

  She changed into a sundress and sandals, brushed her teeth, washed her face and crept out into the galley, where Heath already sat at the tiny bar with a cup of coffee held protectively between two hands.

  “Are you casting a magic spell?” She wasn’t sure, the way he hunched over the steaming mug. She decided to act like last night hadn’t happened. Fresh start today.

  “Praying to any god that will listen to clear my head. Maybe the vodka and beer was a bad idea.”

  Heath’s hair was cocoa brown and shiny, curling just over his ears. His complexion was pale, though rugged, as if he’d spent a lot of time outdoors until recently. He wore the undershirt from yesterday’s bash, and his black pants. Bare feet, Jolie noticed, the hairy toes curled around the rung of the bar stool.

  “With the muscle relaxants? Maybe.” Definitely. “When you’re ready, I can drive you to the hotel and we can get you checked out. Aspirin?” Jolie took a mug from the cabinet and put it under the Keurig coffee maker.

  Heath looked up, large hands not releasing the mug. “I looked in the bathroom, but didn’t see any.”

  “It’s in the first aid kit.” Jolie reached for the red bag on top of the refrigerator, opened it and took out a single packet, which she handed to Heath. “Here. Toast?”

  He shook his head, using his teeth to rip the individual package.

  Jolie uncapped a water bottle and gave it to him.

  Heath took the medicine. “I’m not a druggie, I promise.” He finished the water bottle and went back to the security of his coffee mug.

  “I didn’t think you were.” No, he seemed like a man in pain, only this time it was his own doing and not from the ski injury. She’d been there before, too, and didn’t like feeling poorly due to her own excess. “You can shower here, if you like? But you might want to take advantage of the hotel bathroom one last time. Onboard bathrooms can be a…challenge.”

  “What will you do?”

  “I’ll have tea in the lobby.” Jolie had a laptop and a smart phone and was never bored. “F
ree internet access and cozy chairs.”

  “I won’t make you wait. Do you live on the boat, too?”

  She nodded. “For now. My folks have a place in the Keys, so on days when I don’t have a charter, I go there. You’ll go too, unless you have something else you want to do. Nothing fancy, but there’s room.”

  “Is that what Benedict did?”

  “Yes.”

  Heath drank his coffee, emptying the mug. “Okay. Were you guys a thing? Are you?”

  “No.” Laughing, Jolie took her cup and leaned against the back counter, facing Heath. Benedict was too blond for her taste. “We didn’t have that kind of relationship. But he was my right hand, you know? He knew what I needed, and had it done.”

  “I don’t do mind reading,” Heath said, the line of pain easing some between his brows. “But I’ll do my best. Got a crystal ball I can borrow?”

  “We’ll find our own rhythm as we work together.” She wished she could take the words back, because she immediately thought of just how well she and Heath might fit. How his touch last night had given her vivid dreams of longing.

  She put her cup on the counter and opened the dishwasher to put away the dishes, effectively turning her back on Heath and hiding her flushed face. She stacked the plates on the shelf, self-conscious of his view of her backside.

  It startled her when he took the basket of silverware from the machine right next to her, his bare feet not making a sound on the linoleum. “I should be doing this,” Heath said, his voice morning-rough, his gaze assessing. “Where do they go?”

  “There, by the sink.” Jolie gestured with her head because if she moved, she’d bump into him. Why is that a bad idea?

  His broad chest and shoulders were taut with muscle that came from dedicated work-outs. Jolie dared a peek down, disappointed that her view was obstructed by clothes.

  She cleared her throat since he hadn’t moved. Sensual awareness heated the small galley around them. Her palms grew damp, and her skin pebbled. They stared at one another, his eyes searching hers. For what?

  His phone rang, breaking the intensity of the moment and allowing her to swallow.

  He stepped back and Jolie scooted around him toward the washer and dryer on the opposite end of the galley.

  Heath set the basket down, reached into his loose pocket and pulled out his cell phone. Reading the screen, he shrugged and answered, “What are you doing calling me when you should be doing your wife?”

  Jolie rolled her eyes. “Nice,” she muttered, taking the napkins from the dryer. She quickly folded them, and stacked them in the cupboard.

  “I’m fine. No worries. Don’t drop by, dude. Me and Jolie are going out to breakfast before we hit the hotel.”

  They were? Jolie put the bar towels from the washer into the dryer.

  “Travel safe, Cody. Give Kendra a big fat kiss for me.” Heath ended the call and shoved his phone back in his pocket before looking across the galley toward Jolie. “He can’t help being the big brother, you know?”

  Jolie smiled. “It’s nice that he cares. Lots of siblings don’t get along at all.”

  “We got closer after our parents died. And then when I got into that accident, it freaked Cody out.”

  “I imagine.” Jolie could, too, especially after seeing how they’d interacted last night. “It must have been hard for him to agree to move to Florida.”

  “Kendra got a great job here. Cody’s a good fire fighter. It won’t take him long to find something. It was a no-brainer.”

  “I doubt it was that easy.” Jolie pushed the button and the dryer started up with a low whir.

  Heath finished putting the silverware away and closed the dishwasher. “So, are you hungry, maybe? I’d like to take you to breakfast. As thanks for taking care of my sorry ass last night.”

  “I rarely turn down an offer to go out to eat,” Jolie said. “But you don’t have to thank me for anything.”

  He chuckled. “The job, then?”

  “All right. I can be bribed.”

  “Good to know.”

  “I have extra shorts and t-shirts on board. People leave stuff, including my brothers. Or we can go shopping. I doubt you packed enough to get you by for the summer in your weekend luggage.”

  “True. Shoes?”

  “Check out the pile of flip flops in the closet in your room. Everything’s clean.” His expression gave away his uncertainty. “Just see,” she said, hiding her own amusement.

  He exhaled and walked down the narrow hall. Jolie grinned as soon as his back was turned. Damn, he was cute.

  And so not comfortable. But what she liked most was that he was willing to step outside of his comfort zone.

  Jolie wiped down the counters, finished her coffee and put both empty mugs in the dishwasher. She found her purse, checked her emails and laughed at the text from Benedict.

  See you in three months. Don’t get too attached to the wrong bartender.

  She didn’t reply right away. Honestly, she was attracted and she hadn’t felt that way in a long time. Three months was just enough to get to know one another, and feel all of the craziness of desire and romance without forever looming over her head.

  Jolie didn’t want forever. She’d thought she’d had it once, and look how that had turned out? She put her hand over her flat stomach, held back tears and shouted down the hall. “Are you ready? We aren’t talking high fashion here. I was thinking the Crab Shack.”

  After a few more minutes Heath entered the galley, his mouth a tight seam.

  Uh-oh. “You okay?” Was his leg bothering him? Maybe that was why he hadn’t finished kissing her properly last night. She tapped her lower lip thoughtfully. He’d been fine, well, nursing a hangover, but not in pain, earlier. He held himself stiff, now.

  “Yes.”

  He’d changed into a plain black tee that showed off his shoulders and kept his slacks on. A pair of leather sandals fit his feet and he hadn’t shaved. “You look great,” she said.

  “I like boots.”

  “It will be good for your toes to get some fresh air.” Jolie lifted her purse, realizing he wasn’t in a laughing mood. “Let’s go. You didn’t find any shorts you like?”

  “No.”

  Oh good, she thought. We’re back to the clipped sentences.

  Jolie reminded herself to be careful and not get caught up in something she couldn’t fix. That wasn’t her job to fix. Emotionally, physically, she couldn’t help it. Genetic, probably. Her parents had remodeled an old fixer-upper on Cudjoe Key. Gramps had created a good life making old boats like new. Granny recycled long before it was a national movement. Sometimes that passion for mending spilled toward people, too.

  Jolie led the way up the stairs, trying not to be too obvious about watching Heath navigate. He walked with a slight limp, his arms straight down at his sides, his mouth set. “Is the Crab Shack okay?”

  “Sure.”

  She made it to the main deck and walked through the dance/dining hall. Jolie couldn’t help the spurt of pride as she eyed the bar and the tables and chairs. The fuzzy pink walls were attached with Velcro and had a nice white panel underneath. The disco ball could be taken down, if the partiers wanted something more sedate.

  Her core geographic, however, was the thirty-somethings with money crowd, who had what she did not. Disposable income.

  Heath remained silent as he followed her to the deck leading to the dock at the marina. He didn’t even flinch as he climbed down the short ladder to the sturdy wooden planks.

  “This way.” Her bright turquoise and aqua sundress flounced around her knees and the sunlight made the gemstones on her sandals sparkle. She lifted her face to the blue sky and smiled. She’d try not to push a conversation, but it was hard not to fill the silence.

  They reached the end of the dock, and Jolie slipped her arm through Heath’s, tugging him gently toward the parking lot. He hesitated but then walked at her side.

  “I’m fine,” he said, his jaw cle
nched tight.

  “I know.” She figured he was hurting, but that he didn’t want to admit it. Jolie had to offer comfort. “Here we are.” She patted the hood of her Volkswagen Bug. The light green was a splash of color in the lot filled with black and silver BMW’s or Mercedes.

  “Why is there a flower on your antennae?” He pulled away from her, his voice gravelly as he went toward the passenger door.

  She laughed, imagining what he drove back in Utah. A truck, no doubt, with gigantic wheels. “What have you got against flowers?”

  “It’s girly.” He met her gaze over the top of the car, brown hair falling forward.

  “I’m a girl.” She patted her chest.

  “You think I haven’t noticed?” Heath shook his head. “I hurt my leg—my vision is 20-20. I would say that you are all woman.”

  Pleased, Jolie unlocked the doors and they slid inside. She started the engine and the blast of air conditioning cooled the interior quickly. “You have a truck?”

  “Yeah.”

  He gritted his teeth and pressed down on his left knee.

  “Why don’t we go to the hotel and get your medicine?” Jolie wished she could take his pain away, carry it herself for a while. “We can eat later.”

  “No.” He shielded his face against the sun, not looking at her at all.

  “There’s an extra pair of sunglasses in the glove compartment, if you want to borrow them.” She pulled out of the lot and turned onto Hibiscus.

  “Nope.” Perspiration dotted his forehead.

  “We can shop after we eat and get you checked out. You’re at the Sheraton?” Jolie would rather skip breakfast at this point, or maybe settle for a granola bar from the hotel lobby; whatever it took to get Heath his meds.

  “I don’t need you to drive me around.” Heath faced the window, as if the passing scenery was fascinating. Palm trees and office buildings. She guessed he was embarrassed or something, which she didn’t understand.

  “I want to.” Jolie checked the rearview mirror and switched lanes. Traffic was light during the summer, which made getting around easier. The Crab Shack had a decent Crab Benedict and was run by a second generation family. But really? She was tempted to skip it.