by Linda Cajio
She was seasick again, he thought, feeling as if his worst nightmare were opening up before him.
“Take the wheel,” he said to the other crew member. The man was cleared for open water.
After relinquishing the wheel, Dev scrambled down the gangway and headed for the saloons. People were gathered in little knots around the tables and bars, talking and chatting, waiting for dinner to be served. Hilary wasn’t among them. He glanced at his watch as he passed through. The ferry would be docking in about an hour. The chef was cutting it close for dinner.
Hilary wasn’t in the next saloon either, or on deck. He began to worry as he walked through the employee doors toward the stern, just in case she had wandered back there. But he knew the truth. She was in one of the ladies’ rooms, clinging to a bowl for dear life. The night couldn’t get any worse.
On the threshold of the galley he stopped dead and watched in amazement as Hilary, standing amid culinary chaos, calmly and expertly opened clams.
“You’re not seasick,” he said, dodging past a waiter to reach her.
She smiled briefly. “I would be if I had time.”
“What are you doing in here?”
“Your chef’s drunk. The guys tell me this isn’t the first time. So I thought I’d help out.” Her cool voice clearly showed her disdain for the man. When she turned to the waiters, though, she gave orders in a warm, gentle tone. “Marco, here’s the last of the clams. Get the passengers in and started on their appetizers. Peter, turn those fillets while I start plating the food.”
The men went to work, smiling gratefully at her. Dev didn’t know how she was able to walk in and take over the way she had. Maybe the galley staff was too shorthanded to be anything but appreciative.
“You didn’t have to do this,” he said.
Her body stilled. She turned to him. “I owe you this, Devlin.”
He frowned. Her words had an ominous ring to them, and her eyes looked almost … sad.
“Hilary,” he began.
She smiled and shook her head. “We’ll talk later. Now, go drive the boat.”
He chuckled, as the others snorted in amusement. “Okay, I’ll go ‘drive’ the boat.”
There was no other woman in the world like her, he thought. All elegance and hidden passion, with new facets to discover every day. His little bump of uneasiness was unfounded. When he got her to Atlantic City, he’d make up for lost time. For a lot of lost time.
He turned back to the bridge, to “drive the boat.”
Hilary slowly wiped down the last counter in the galley, trying to stretch the job out for as long as possible. She’d been hiding down here, ever since she’d discovered the cruise’s chef drunk and the waiters running around like chickens with their heads cut off.
She shook her head in disgust as she thought of Devlin’s partner who was cutting corners too sharply. One questionable chef to prepare a meal for fifty? No wonder the man got drunk. She really had to speak to Devlin before his investment went bankrupt.…
That was the problem, she admitted. She didn’t want to speak to Devlin, because she’d have to speak about more than a business problem. Something she was not ready to do.
“Want to do a little gambling?”
She jumped at the sound of his voice and whipped around to face him. He was leaning against the doorway, hands in his jeans pockets, grinning knowingly at her.
“Did I scare you?” he asked, strolling into the galley.
“A little,” she said stiffly, trying to keep an emotional distance.
“I can never thank you enough for your help.” He put his arms around her. Though she tried to hold herself still and not respond, the feel of his body so close to hers was sending undeniable erotic signals through her. He added, “I even heard several of the passengers raving about the food when they left.”
“Good,” she said, trying to regain her control. “I was glad I could help.”
“Want a job as a chef on a boat?”
She snorted. “No thanks.”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, straightening away from her.
She shrugged, then decided to get one topic started. She turned around to face him, but leaned back against the counter to keep her distance and her equilibrium. “I think your partner is making some bad judgments on these gambler cruises. You need more than one person for a kitchen staff if you’re going to feed the kind of numbers you’re feeding here. You especially don’t need a chef whose reliability is questionable.”
Devlin nodded. “So I’ve already seen. There’s a lot more going on here besides the problem in the galley. Changes will have to be made, if my money stays in.”
“Oh.” She was out of conversation. It was time. “Devlin, I’ve been doing a lot of thinking—”
“About us,” he guessed, suddenly becoming wary.
She scrubbed at a nonexistent spot on the counter. “Yes.”
“Look, if you’re mad about what happened tonight, well, I’m sorry—”
“It’s not tonight,” she broke in, not looking at him. “It’s … it’s everything. We live so far away—”
“Move closer to me.”
She gaped at him. “You move closer to me!”
“I have my business.”
“And I have mine!”
“I know that. It’s just that I couldn’t move too far from the shore because of the hours. I was thinking that maybe you could turn over more of the business to Jane and Jeremy.…”
“Me? Me? You turn over more to Billy!”
“I’ve been thinking about it,” he admitted.
That knocked some of the wind out of her sails. Hilary told herself to be rational, to control her temper. “It’s not just that, Devlin. Our basic outlooks are completely different—”
“I know we’ve had some problems coordinating ourselves.”
“And then we’re only together for the sex.”
“What else is there?” he asked, chuckling.
She straightened. “There’s love.”
He stared at her speechless.
She turned her back to him, knowing she’d opened her heart in a way she’d never meant to. “I know you don’t feel the same way. I’m a form of rebellion to you, Devlin. I don’t think you realize it, but I am.”
“That’s ridiculous!” he said.
“No, it isn’t.” She sighed and faced him again. “If you think about us for two minutes, you’d know it was true. You wanted absolutely nothing to do with me, until your grandmother decided we were ‘unsuitable.’ She drew out the word sarcastically. “Then you couldn’t get me into bed fast enough, and you’ve kept me there with every one of your grandmother’s protests.”
He gaped at her. “I’ve always tried to get you into bed! That had nothing to do with Grandmother.”
“See? Just sex,” she said triumphantly.
He glowered at her. “Hilary, I don’t know what the hell is wrong, but you’re spouting nonsense.”
“I wish I were.” She closed her eyes against a sharp thrust of pain, then opened them. She kept her gaze steady on his. “I tried to tell myself I was wrong, that it was silliness, insecurity, whatever. Devlin, you’ve rejected your family and what they stand for. You even named your boat what you did to prove it to the world—and to remind yourself to keep people at arm’s length.”
“Hilary—”
She went on, ignoring him. “You practically hated me at first, because you thought I was a hanger-on trying to break into all that. Your grandmother wanted us together then, remember? And then when she didn’t, the next morning, that very next morning, you do a complete reversal.”
“What about you?” he asked. “You weren’t jumping for joy over me at first. One moment you didn’t like me either. And then boom! You were all over me like peanut butter on bread.”
“I was not!” she exclaimed, her cheeks heating. “I fell for you!”
“Did you ever think that maybe I did too?”
She s
hook her head, squeezing back the tears that threatened to spill. She was positive she was right. He would never see it, never admit it. That was just another form of his rebellion. “Not with your track record.”
“You’re practicing psychiatry without a license,” he snapped.
“I’m telling you the truth!” she snapped back. “And when you’re done rebelling, you’ll realize this was all a mistake, apologize, and walk away. I can’t wait for that. I can’t!”
“Hi,” Marco said, coming into the galley. Then he stopped, his eyes widening as he clearly caught on to the confrontation.
“I’ve had enough of this crap,” Devlin said, and stalked out of the galley.
Hilary slumped against the counter.
“I’m sorry,” Marco said. “I’ve interrupted.”
Hilary blinked back her tears. “No. It was going in circles anyway.”
And now, she thought, it wasn’t going anywhere.
And he’d thought the day couldn’t get any worse.
Dev swung the wheel viciously in his anger. The boat veered sharply toward the Wildwood docks. He corrected the steering and brought the boat into the berth without incident.
“Finish it up,” he said to the nearest crew member. He made an effort not to snap at the man. It wouldn’t be fair to take his mood out on an innocent bystander. Better to take it out on the walls … or the windows … or the equipment.…
Damn her, he thought as he left the still-intact bridge. He couldn’t believe the ludicrous accusations she’d made in the galley. How could she even think those kinds of things about him? How could she say them?
He wouldn’t ask, he decided. He had too much pride for that. His anger had built all the way home. She had hurt him in ways he’d never thought possible. He had thought—Clearly he’d been wrong about her. He had opened himself up to her, but she was just like all the rest. No, worse.
The stars were shining brightly as he stepped out onto the deck. He realized he hadn’t seen Hilary since the incident in the galley. He had stayed on the bridge, and she had stayed who-knew-where. For all he knew, she could have left the ferry before it disembarked from Atlantic City.
She wouldn’t have, he thought, looking frantically among the tired passengers gathering along the deck rails. It was too dark to make out faces, but logic told him she wouldn’t have left her car behind in Wildwood. She would at least come back to get that.
He spotted her just coming up from below deck and heading toward the bow. He walked over and took her arm, pulling her away from the people.
“You’re wrong,” he said as soon as they were sheltered under the threshold to the forward saloon. “What can I do to convince you?”
She shook her head. “I’m not wrong. You know I’m not.”
“I don’t know a damn thing except this.” He brought his mouth down on hers, his kiss almost savage in his desperation to show her the truth of his feelings. He hadn’t meant to reveal to her how he felt, but nothing could keep it buried.
To his surprise her lips parted and she kissed him back, as desperately as he. Her hands gripped his windbreaker, her mouth like fire. He almost clung to her with hope.
“How can you say this is rebellion?” he murmured, kissing her hair.
She pressed her forehead into his shoulder. “Because that’s all it is,” she said, her voice breaking. “That’s all I am to you. You just haven’t realized it yet.”
He tore himself away from her. “If that’s what you want to believe, then go ahead and believe it, dammit!”
She swiped at her face. He realized she was crying, and he hardened his heart against the tears. Women always used tears to their advantage.
Straightening, she turned and left the boat. He watched her go, cursing her silly notions and her stubbornness.
He wasn’t rebelling, he told himself. He wasn’t.
But a little voice inside him rebelliously wondered if she was right.
“We’re married!” Marsh exclaimed.
Hilary instantly burst into tears. Marsh chuckled at the thought that his granddaughter would pop her eyes when he told her he and Lettice were calling from Rio de Janeiro, on their sudden honeymoon. “I knew you’d be happy for us,” he went on into the phone.
Hilary didn’t answer, and something in his granddaughter’s crying sparked an uneasiness in him. Puzzled, he said, “You are happy, aren’t you, Hilary?”
The wails went up about ten decibels. All was definitely not well in Hilary Land.
Marsh immediately handed the receiver to his bride. “I don’t know what the hell’s wrong with her. You talk to her.”
“Just like a man,” Lettice said.
“You liked certain parts this morning,” he reminded her.
“I take my pleasures where I can get them.”
He harrumphed a reply, then listened as Lettice talked soothingly to his granddaughter, calming her and then probing. All he could discern from the one-sided conversation was that something had happened with Devlin.
“They broke up,” Lettice said when she finally hung up.
“Broke up?” Marsh repeated. “Why would they break up?”
“Because Hilary’s decided she’s Dev’s latest form of rebellion.”
“Dammit, woman!” Marsh roared. “You and your meddling did this!”
Lettice eyed her new husband for a long moment, then said, “Stop bellowing like a wounded bull. My grandson is more wary than a prairie dog poking his head out at buffalo mating time. Somebody had to light a fire under his tail. Hilary unfortunately took it all the wrong way and now can’t see past her nose on this. I’ll call Devlin.”
As she dialed, Lettice scrambled for solutions to this new turn of events. One thing she hadn’t expected was Hilary’s perception and her reaction to it. She supposed she could understand the girl’s hurt—but what did it matter how Devlin got started, just as long as he did? The transcontinental connection took a few minutes, but finally her grandson was on the other line.
“Marsh and I got married two days ago,” she announced, beginning the conversation with a bang.
“Congratulations.” Devlin’s voice was flat and devoid of emotion.
“You could fake your cheerfulness a little better than that,” she said.
His exasperated intake of breath was audible over the line. “I am happy for you, and tell Marsh I said he’s a fool. Okay?”
“That’s better. Now, what are you going to do about Hilary?”
“Who told you? Her?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Have you talked to her?”
“Why bother? She’s convinced I’m rebelling—”
“Well, of course you were!” Lettice snapped in her own exasperation. “Somebody had to push a few buttons just to get you over the edge.”
“You … Damn you, Grandmother!”
“Oh, stop fussing. You were already on the precipice, silly boy. I leave you two alone for five minutes and you make a disaster of everything.”
“Me!”
“Yes, you. Well, you’ll just have to fix it.”
“And how do you propose I do that?”
“Stop being an ass. All you have to do is prove she’s wrong about how you feel.”
“I don’t have to prove a damn thing!” Devlin roared.
“I’m not going to have any ears left at this rate,” Lettice muttered, holding the receiver far away. A loud click came over the wire, then the dial tone. Her grandson had hung up on her.
“Foolish boy,” she murmured, replacing the receiver. No one hung up on her and got away with it.
“How are you going to fix this one?” Marsh asked.
“I’m not,” she said righteously. “I never meddle.”
Marsh burst into laughter.
“I don’t see why I have to go,” Hilary said, crossing her arms over her chest. “And I don’t see why I have to wear this!”
“You have to go because a fa
mily member is sponsoring the event, and you will do it for Lettice’s sake,” Marsh said, steering the car into the temporary parking lot along the river.
“And you’re wearing that dress,” Lettice added, “because it’s appropriate. Now, uncross your arms before you muss the pleats.”
Hilary reluctantly uncrossed her arms and smoothed out the stiffened silk of her gown. The long skirt was black and hugged her legs, just as the strapless top hugged her torso. A wide band of pleated white satin wrapped around her waist. The dress was beautiful, and Lettice was right about it being appropriate, but she felt half-naked with her shoulders exposed.
When they emerged from the car, Hilary took a deep breath, then had to resist the urge to yank up her bodice. It wouldn’t go anywhere anyway. There wasn’t enough material. At least she wouldn’t be cold as the evening grew longer. This first weekend in September was still hot enough for it to feel like the middle of summer rather than the end. Someone had had a good idea in holding the charity ball on the docks of Penn’s Landing in Philadelphia.
Why had she come to this thing? she asked herself. Because it was Devlin’s charity ball. Because she was proud of what he was doing. And because she wanted to see him again. Just see him. With their families connected now, she couldn’t avoid a meeting forever. She’d told herself she had to prove she could see him and still stay numb. Now, however, it didn’t seem like such a good idea.
“Are you going to stand there, or does your grandfather have to carry you?” Lettice asked.
“I’d get ten hernias,” Marsh said.
“Thanks,” Hilary muttered.
Lettice looped her arm through Hilary’s. “Come on. He’s not here anyway.”
Hilary gaped as the older woman pulled her forward. “He isn’t?” She immediately shrugged to show her unconcern. “That’s his business.”
“So he said. He’s back in hibernation.” Lettice looked around at the formally dressed crowd. “Who cares as long as he put the money up? We’ve got a good crowd. Now, let’s take ’em for everything they’ve got.”
