Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set

by Julie Ortolon

  “Hang on,” Mike said. “How about this? We each get to send one text, then we power off.”

  “Agreed.” The idea helped her relax a fraction. She quickly typed in a text to Linda to let her friend know where she was going while Mike tapped in his own message. After they both hit send, they looked at each other. “Ready?”

  He nodded. “On three?”

  Together, they counted and powered off.

  Desperation instantly clawed at her chest. What if something happened? What if somebody needed her? Stop it, she ordered herself. You can go twenty-four hours without a phone. Looking up, she saw Mike still staring at his blank screen. “How ya doing?”

  “Fine.” His eyes snapped up and he gave her a smile that looked a bit brittle around the edges. “You?”

  “Great.” Her smile felt as fake as his looked.

  “Okay, then.” He slipped his phone back into the pocket of his shorts. “Let’s go sailing.”

  Chapter 16

  *

  “HERE, KATE, TAKE the wheel while I untangle those mooring lines.”

  Kate glanced over from her cushion in the cockpit of the thirty-four-foot Catalina where she’d been enjoying the sun on her face. Before she could tell Mike she didn’t know how to sail, he stepped away from the giant chrome wheel, leaving her no choice but to grab it.

  “What do I do?” she asked, sliding into the space he’d vacated at the back of the boat.

  “Just hold her steady.” He pointed straight ahead as he nimbly stepped over all the contraptions that cluttered the deck. “Keep the bow aimed to the left of that point there, where the shore juts out.”

  That sounded easy enough, she decided, until she felt how the wind tried to turn the wheel to the right, which would send them crashing straight into the rocky shore. Gripping the wheel with both hands, she aimed for the point Mike had indicated.

  The sun beat down on her back, exposed by the sapphire-blue one-piece swimsuit she’d found on sale at the marina’s store. The suit came with a colorful scarf that tied about her hips and went a long way toward slimming her generous figure.

  From somewhere off to the left, a Jet Ski raced toward them, looking as if the rider meant to run right into the back of the sailboat. Instead, the Jet Ski veered off to hit their small wake. The Jet Ski leapt into the air, landed with a splash, and spun about to do it again.

  Kate turned back to watch Mike. He possessed a sureness she couldn’t help but admire. The same wind that fed the sails buffeted his Hawaiian shirt, which he wore open over a pair of dark blue swim trunks. His hair had already grown a bit from its recent trimming, and she felt sure that by the end of the day, the blond sun-streaks would have returned full force. At least now, after watching him work the sails and other unfathomable things onboard, she knew he came by his tan naturally.

  With his legs spread for balance, he bent forward to untangle some lines. The sight distracted her for a moment, long enough that when she glanced up, a large motorboat had appeared directly in their path.

  “Mike?” she called nervously, but the high-pitched whine of the Jet Ski drowned her out. “Mike,” she called louder. “There’s a boat up ahead. What do I do?”

  He continued messing with the lines at the front of the boat, completely oblivious to the danger. “Mike!” she tried again with rising anxiety as the motorboat came closer, taking on the proportions of the Titanic. If she turned right, she’d crash straight into the shore. But turning left would take her even more into the motorboat’s path. Still, that seemed a better choice than smashing into the rocks, since she’d hopefully clear their path before they collided.

  “Michael!” she shouted one last time. When he still didn’t look up she jerked the wheel left, and immediately realized she’d made a mistake. The sailboat turned sharply, dipping onto its right side. She screamed, sure they would tip over. Somewhere over the noise of the Jet Ski and the motorboat’s frantically blaring horn, she heard Mike holler as he lost his footing. He managed to grab the mast before he flew into the lake.

  “Jesus, what are you doing!” he yelled. “Look out, we’re coming about! Pop the jib sheet. Release the boom!”

  Now that the motorboat was passing safely to the right—with a great deal of cursing from the passengers—she tried to correct her mistake by turning the wheel back. It was too late. The large, horizontal beam swung over her head. Wind snapped the sail into place with a jarring force that threatened to flip the boat in the opposite direction.

  “Let out the mainsail!” Mike yelled as he fought against the front sail that had engulfed him like a shroud. “Pop the jib sheet!”

  “What’s a jib sheet?” she hollered back as he finally battled his way free of the sail and scrambled into the cockpit. With one smooth flip of his wrist, he jerked on a line, and the contraption that held it taut released its hold. The line fed out, allowing the front sail to move to the opposite side of the boat. He did the same to the line that held the big beam in place. Both sails fluttered and went slack as the boat settled neatly into an upright position, slowed, and died in the water.

  Standing in the cockpit and breathing hard, he turned to face her. She braced herself for an explosion of insults, ready to stand her ground.

  “I, um, I take it you’ve never sailed before,” he said, very calmly.

  She blinked in surprise at his mild tone. “Not exactly.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “Well, then, first lesson. Sailboats can’t maneuver as fast as a motorboat, which gives us the right of way. In other words, we’re supposed to hold steady, and let the motorboats go around us.”

  “But they were about to hit us!”

  “Trust me, Kate, they would have passed safely on our port side if you hadn’t tacked right into their path.”

  “Oh.” She stared at him, realizing what had just happened. Before she’d married Edward, she never would have expected a verbal attack because she’d made a mistake. In her family, men behaved as Mike just had; they treated others with respect. Yet she’d just lumped him in with her ex.

  Mike didn’t deserve that. Men as a whole didn’t deserve that. And it was past time she stopped doing it.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, meaning so much more than her sailing blunder.

  “No, no, that’s okay.” He ran both hands through his hair, a useless gesture in the wind. “My fault. I should have asked if you knew how to sail before I turned the helm over to you.”

  “Perhaps we should let you take care of the sailing part of this weekend.” She started to slide away from the wheel.

  “What, and deny you all the fun? Don’t be ridiculous.” He took the seat behind the wheel. “Come on and I’ll show you how it’s done.”

  “No, Mike, really—” Before she could express her opinion on just how unfun she’d found the last few minutes, he took hold of her waist and settled her before him with her bottom wedged between his thighs.

  “Now the first thing we need to do is find the wind. So, take hold of your port sheets—”

  “What’s a sheet?”

  “One of the lines that controls your sails,” he explained, gathering two of them in hand.

  “You mean these ropes?”

  “Kate,” he chuckled, “there are no ropes on a sailboat.”

  “Then what the heck do you call all those?” She waved a hand at the myriad of blue-and-white nylon ropes trailing all over the deck.

  “Once a rope is cut and attached to something on a sailboat, it becomes a line, which can also be called a halyard or a sheet, depending on what it’s attached to. The halyards raise and lower the sails, the sheets control their side-to-side motion.”

  With surprising ease, he tightened two of the sheets. The mainsail and jib—as he called the front sail—magically filled with wind. Gracefully, the boat eased forward. He set the main sheet in something he called a cleat, then handed her the jib sheet.

  “Here,” he said near her ear. “Take this, and get a feel for the wind.”
>
  She was about to ask what he meant, but the minute she took hold of the line, she understood. The sail tugged playfully against her hand, like a frisky mare asking for more rein.

  “Now, if you get scared and want to slow down, simply let your lines out.”

  She considered that, then smiled at him over her shoulder. “What if I want to go faster?”

  He grinned back. “Tighten the sheet and turn closer into the wind. Not all the way, just close enough so you’re riding the edge of it.”

  With one hand beside hers on the wheel and his other hand guiding hers on the sheet, he helped her find the edge of the wind. The boat leaned sideways as it picked up speed.

  “What do I do if we start to tip over?” she asked.

  “We won’t,” he assured. “A good, sturdy vessel like this is virtually impossible to ditch.”

  “Virtually?” Her voice rose as the boat leaned farther to the side. They both leaned in the opposite direction as counterbalance.

  “Trust me, Kate. Unless you’d rather take things slow?”

  Not sure what she wanted, she held their course, feeling the wind tug against her hands. The more the boat leaned, the faster it sliced through the water. She felt a moment of fear, but it shifted quickly to exhilaration, followed by a thrilling sense of freedom she hadn’t felt in years. She remembered the feeling well, though, an eager confidence to rush ahead at life, and she welcomed the headiness of it.

  Mike gradually turned over control and moved to the high side of the bench where he could watch Kate. Everything about her delighted him, especially the memory of their trip into the marina’s store. She’d taken one look at the prices of the swimsuits and her eyes had bulged. If he hadn’t slipped the store clerk his credit card and convinced her to tell Kate all the swimwear was half off, he never would have talked Kate into buying one. And though he would have preferred she’d purchased one of the skimpy two-piece numbers, he had to admit she looked great in the bright blue suit she’d selected.

  Gone was the pale anxiety from that morning. In its place he saw an expression—part fear, part wonder—that reminded him of how he’d felt when he’d first started sailing with his dad. There was nothing quite like the feel of a good solid vessel responding to your slightest touch, of flying over the water on nothing but the power of the wind.

  The breeze shifted subtly and Kate adjusted instinctively.

  “You have the feel for it,” he observed.

  “For what?” She glanced toward him then turned back to keep her eye on the lake traffic.

  “For sailing.” Reaching for the bag of supplies they’d just bought, he pulled out the bottle of sunscreen. “Not everyone does,” he said, squeezing lotion into his hand. “Are you sure you’ve never done this?”

  “Never. Oh, that’s cold.” She sucked in a breath as he applied the lotion to her shoulders.

  “Sorry.” He hid a smile as he squeezed more lotion onto her back and felt her body shiver beneath his hands. The tropical scent of coconut rose up from her sun-heated flesh. “With this white skin of yours, you’ll be red as a lobster by the end of the day.”

  “Actually, I don’t burn. I don’t tan either. I just freckle.” She made a face. “So, what about you?”

  “I never freckle.”

  “No, silly, how long have you been sailing?”

  “Since before I could walk.” Shedding his shirt, he squeezed lotion on his own shoulders and sucked air in through his teeth. Kate was right; it was cold. What’d they do, keep the stuff in the refrigerated cases with the beer? “But then, I’m a Cameron, so sailing’s in my blood.”

  “Oh, that’s right, you said your grandfather sailed out of Glasgow on a cargo ship. I assumed you meant a freighter, though, not a sailing vessel.”

  “I did.” Mike reached into the ice chest. “You want a beer or a Coke?”

  “Coke for now,” she answered. “I’m holding out for that bottle of wine you bought to go with dinner.”

  Grabbing a beer for himself and a Coke for her, he settled back to enjoy the day. The sky stretched overhead, with just enough clouds to cool things off while sunlight shot sparks off the water. The wind off the starboard bow was strong and steady, the woman at his side a pure pleasure. In all, a perfect day. “Even though my grandfather started out on a freighter, sailing has always been the old man’s secret passion, especially after he settled in California and started his own shipping company: Cameron Shipping—‘We sail the world for you’.”

  “The old man?” She cocked a brow in disapproval.

  “His choice, I assure you—as in The Old Man and the Sea.”

  “What about your father? Is he into sailing?”

  “Absolutely.” Mike looked about to check their heading. Lake Travis’s long, winding course through the rolling hills required a great deal of tacking back and forth to navigate. “We need to come about pretty soon. Think you can handle it?”

  “I don’t know.” Her eyes widened a bit, but she looked willing to try.

  “I tell you what. Why don’t I take the wheel while you handle the sheets?” He talked her through the maneuver, which they pulled off with surprising ease. “You want the wheel back?” he asked once they’d set a new heading.

  “No.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I’d rather sit back and watch for a while.” Scooting along the bench, she leaned her back against the cabin and stretched her legs out on the cushion to catch the sun.

  “So, where were we?” he asked, distracted by the trim shape of those feminine ankles and calves. Women had such intriguing dips and curves; an endless landscape to be thoroughly explored.

  “You were about to tell me about your father.” She tipped her head back, looking peaceful and relaxed as the boat settled into a steady rhythm.

  He smiled in satisfaction, since that had been the point of the day, to help Kate get her mind off what had happened that morning. He still wanted some more details on the subject, but decided to wait until later to ask.

  “My father,” he said, drawing his attention away from her legs. “Now, there’s a man who loves to sail. In fact, in his wild youth, he ran off to Hawaii to crew on a charter boat.”

  “Hawaii?” Kate cocked a brow. “How exciting. Did he stay there long?”

  “’Bout ten years. He worked his way up to serving as first mate on a clipper ship, the kind with luxury cabins, a dining galley fit for royalty, and a lounge with live entertainment.”

  “Oooh.” Kate’s smile turned dreamy. “Wouldn’t that be wonderful? To sail around the islands on a ship like that?”

  “Yeah,” he agreed, as an image came to mind of sailing with Kate in Hawaii—not on some crowded luxury yacht, but on a small, chartered vessel for their honeymoon. On the way home, they could stop in Santa Monica so he could show her off to his family, maybe fly Dylan out so he could meet his new cousins.

  The thought of Dylan dimmed the fantasy a bit, since Mike still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of stepping into the role of father quite so soon, but he concentrated on his story. “That’s where Dad met my mom, working on that ship.”

  “Oh?” Kate prompted.

  “A lot of the service crew pull double duty, so Mom waited tables and sang in the lounge.”

  “Really?” Interest lit her eyes. “Does she still perform?”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Mom gave up her dream of becoming a full-time professional singer when she found out I was on the way. She and Dad had been married less than a year, having the time of their lives, both of them living for the moment and dreaming about the future. Then, wham! I came along and changed everything. That was when Dad decided to move back to California and take his place as the scion of Cameron Shipping. Not that he wanted to, but I guess having a baby has a way of making a man think about the future in a whole different light.”

  “Believe me,” she laughed, “it has a similar effect on women. What about your mother? What did she do?”

  “Other than giving
voice and piano lessons, she became a full-time mom to me and my sisters. I pretty much took that for granted growing up, but now I wish she hadn’t.”

  “Why’s that?”

  He shrugged, glancing at the gauge at the top of the mast to check the direction and speed of the wind. “I think it’s just as important for kids to see their parents pursue their dreams as it is for parents to see their children succeed.”

  “If only it were that easy.” She rolled her eyes. “As I wrote in one of my columns, everyone wrestles with a certain amount of tug of war between their personal life and their professional life. For people who work merely for a paycheck it’s easier to focus on family or personal goals. For people lucky enough to have a career they truly love, things get tougher. They constantly have to choose which side of their life is going to suffer for the benefit of the other.”

  “Why should either side suffer?”

  “Because no one can do it all.” She looked amused at his disagreement. “I think that’s something you need to keep in mind if you’re still hoping to find a wife. You especially need to think about it—long and hard—before deciding to have kids. Because, in case you didn’t know, they’re not returnable.”

  “Trust me,” he said with a weighty sigh, “that’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

  “Good.” She nodded. “Also, just so you know, I actually think it’s wonderful that you love what you do.”

  “Ah, so that’s why you keep telling me I work too much,” he teased.

  “Which you do!” She teased right back. “But, as someone who just lost a job I loved, I know how rare it is to find that blend of work and passion. Just, you know, keep everything I’ve said in mind. I’d hate to see you wind up on the flip-side of what I went through with Edward.”

  “I’m not Edward,” he pointed out with a slight edge.

  “You know what, you’re right.” She looked at him with new appreciation. “This right here proves it. You stepped away from your computer, you’re enjoying the day, you turned off your phone. I’m impressed.”

  “So…” he mulled that over, “how you holding up with that?”