Tucking her fears of the water and incompetency deep inside, she stood up and held on to the wheel. “What do you want me to do?”
“Turn the key near the helm, then hit the black button until you hear the motor,” Brandon said from the front of the boat, where he was messing with sails and more ropes.
Jackie looked back to the shore. The men were at Brandon’s car now. What could they be looking for? Who were they? Why would someone be shooting at them?
“Turn the boat on. Now!”
Jackie returned her attention to the boat’s controls at the helm. The key turned easily to the On position. Next to the key was the black button, which she pushed. The motor purred immediately.
Brandon gave her a thumbs-up from the front of the boat. “Now I want you to move her forward just a hair to loosen the tension on the anchor chain so I can bring it up. Move the lever forward for a second, then put it back into neutral.”
Jackie talked herself through the maneuver. “Forward for two, then back to neutral.”
The level slid silkily forward, and the boat immediately responded.
“Back to neutral.” She slid the level to neutral.
Brandon easily hauled up the anchor and stored it in a hatch near the front of the boat. With a few easy bounds, he was back in the cockpit.
“Well done. I knew you had it in you. Let’s motor out of here, and then we’ll raise the main.” Brandon managed one soft pat on her butt, letting his hand linger. “Have a seat.” He nodded to the bench lining the side of the cockpit.
The boat rumbled. The dinghy trailed behind like the little plastic turtle on a string she had as a child. Where was it now?
Her mom had packed everything of hers and carted it off to St. Vincent de Paul in one fatal bipolar swoop. Everything precious to her had been classified as junk by her mother and thrown out.
“My life’s not junk,” she muttered as she looked at the little boat bobbing on the waves behind the sailboat.
“Your life’s not what?” Brandon asked.
“Never mind. Do you know who those goons were and why they were shooting at us?”
A throbbing pain from her leg registered. Blood trickled down the length of her leg and had started to dry dark and cracked. She must have scraped it getting into the boat.
Brandon focused on their course. “I don’t know. My best guess is Ashe’s henchmen. He’s never been known for subtly, but guns?” He looked at her leg and cringed. “Once we get under sail, I’ll clean that up.”
“Don’t worry, I can do it myself. Is there a first aid kit down below?” Jackie crept to the door to the cabin, keeping a hand on something at all times. How soon until they could get back to land?
“In the bathroom. On your left. Under the sink. It’ll be easier to walk when I get the sails up. You’ll get your sea legs in no time.”
“Mmm-hmm.” Jackie shot him a sideways glare before she headed below.
“Hey, babe, there’s some clothes in the black duffel bag if you want to change. Not exactly your size or style, but help yourself.” His voice was warm and relaxed.
How could he be so calm? They’d just been shot at! Not to mention “babe.” Did getting a blowjob in the car entitle a man to use cheesy terms of endearment?
Yet, it had been so long since a man had used a term of endearment with her and genuinely meant it. The sales clerks at the bakery obviously didn’t count.
Did Brandon mean it?
She braced herself against the boat’s sway by holding on to a bunk. The scent of lemon oil emanated from all the polished wood. The cabin was meticulously clean and tidy. A half-dozen side steps took her to the bathroom where she quickly located the first-aid kit. The mirror in the bathroom revealed a disheveled woman. Her hair was matted to her sweaty forehead. Worse, it had parted itself in a jagged line close to the middle so she looked like a bad throwback to the 1970s.
Grease, or something black, smeared her jacket. Damn it, totally ruined. She fingered the rip in her skirt. That was her best suit. The one saved for court appearances. The pantyhose were toast too. She wiggled her toes. Her killer pumps were missing. Where were they? She winced. She’d ditched them while running. Those shoes had cost a small fortune. More than she had left in her bank account.
Her nose began to tingle. Her vision blurred. She was not going to lose it over a pair of shoes. With a deep breath, she stared at herself in the mirror. She ran her fingers through her hair to tame it. “Get it together, North.” Like so many times before, like every time she stood up before a jury for an opening statement, she steeled her insides, rolled her shoulders back, and elongated her spine to stand straight, tall, and powerful. She’d conquer her fear of water like she took down a hostile witness.
Focus. Logic.
Her breathing normalized, and she blinked away the harbinger of an emotional disaster.
Although she wasn’t sure as to the origins of the water from the tap in the bathroom, she turned it on, splashed her face, and then washed her hands.
Jackie set a dampened towel and the first-aid kit on the table. She stripped to her bra and underpants and sat at the edge of the small booth behind the table and cleaned her leg.
“Yeow,” she screeched as she jumped, and then banged her head on the low ceiling. “Shit.”
“Are you okay down there?” Only Brandon’s legs were visible to Jackie from below.
“Peachy,” Jackie yelled. She rubbed her scalp where a bump was sure to form and got back to her first aid. The boat’s rolling roiled her stomach, and she yearned for fresh air and solid ground.
Brandon appeared at the hatch to the cabin. “Hey, that’s a nice outfit. I take back my offer for clothes. Just come on up as you are.”
“Aren’t you supposed to be driving?” Jackie asked.
“We’re cool. Out of the shore’s view and on autopilot. Totally safe. Need some help?”
His smile dazzled and tempted her, but she wanted answers first. “I’ll be up in a minute.”
She found the black duffel. A bottle rolled in a T-shirt rested on top of the bag’s cache. Wine. French. She laid it in the galley’s sink.
The T-shirt, which had enveloped the wine, was another faded and holey shirt. Maybe when you become a millionaire by age thirty, you enjoy wearing thrift-store-quality clothes? She held it up to her face and nuzzled into it, taking in the fresh scent of soap. It would do just fine.
She slipped it over her head and looked down to see a University of Virginia logo stretched across her chest. The shirt actually fit well. She closed her eyes to imagine a skinny version of Brandon buying a college-logo T-shirt as a senior in high school. What had he hoped for?
Him calling her name startled her out of her daydream. She’d better find some shorts. She dug deeper and found a thick black notebook. She couldn’t resist a peek. It was full of pages upon pages of numbers that looked vaguely familiar.
“What are you doing down there?” Brandon called.
She put the notebook to the side. A pair of running shorts looked wearable. The shorts were baggy and rested on her hips just above her underwear line. She turned the waistband out to pull the drawstring tighter, but it was missing. A grumble ticked the back of her throat, and her eyes rolled. Couldn’t this guy afford new shorts?
The sun burst into her vision when she slid the hatch open. Her hand above her eyes to shade the glare, Jackie squinted at Brandon. “Got any extra sunglasses?”
He reached into a cubby next to the wheel and pulled out a pair. “Catch.”
She put on the large, mirrored, wraparound glasses with black plastic frames. “Do I look like Richard Petty?” Jackie climbed up the stairs to him.
Brandon snorted out a single laugh. “The vision of you in a cowboy hat and jumpsuit next to a stock car is priceless.”
“I would be offended, but I suspect my vision of you being skinny enough to fit into this T-shirt is just as hilarious.” She blew him an air kiss.
He opened his mouth to say something but closed it. “Never mind. Let’s get the mainsail up. And seeing that no one has followed us out here, I wouldn’t mind getting a few other important items up.”
“You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s why you love me,” he said as he tickled her waist.
Did she?
Love him?
Chapter Twenty
Brandon gave her precise instructions on how and where to steer the boat so that he could raise the mainsail. She watched the little arrow at the top of the mast—the windex he’d called it—to move the boat directly into the wind.
Surefooted as a mountain goat, Brandon hopped to the main mast, undid lines, and with fast, rhythmic pulls, hoisted the mainsail. The bay’s breeze whipped it into a canvas of undulating peaks and valleys, a mirror of the surface of the water below them. The rippling canvas sent out sharp cracks as it fluttered high above.
Brandon bounded back to the helm. “Great job. Now we cut the engine and come off the wind to get some momentum.”
With the engine silenced, the water ran along the side of the boat in a steady gurgle. The sail was taut and bright white against the azure sky. Brandon was right. The boat sailed more smoothly now.
Brandon pulled at some ropes and the sail at the front unfurled. The boat picked up speed. Gravity pulled Jackie back into the seat as the boat keeled while slicing through the water.
The wind beat Jackie’s hair around her face. She was speechless, something that rarely happened to her.
Brandon secured the wheel in place and settled next to her, his long legs stretching across the cockpit. “She’s just out for a walk now. You should see her fully trimmed out.” He smiled widely. “Damn, this is a fast boat.”
Brandon leaned in, his body pressed against hers from the shoulder down to the knee. Warm and sticky with sweat and the spray of salt water, they melted into each other. He found her right hand, wove his fingers with hers, and rubbed circles aimlessly on her hand with his thumb.
Jackie used her free hand to run the backs of her fingers over his forearm. In spite of the hot Chesapeake sun, a field of goose bumps rose on his bronzed skin.
“What are we doing here?”
“You mean besides sailing?” His caresses moved from her hand to her face as he explored every curve.
She pulled back. “You know what I mean. What the hell is going on? You disappear. You kidnap me. Some thugs shoot at us!”
He rolled on his left side and pressed against her, wrapping his arms around her. “Calm down. We’re safe.”
Jackie swallowed hard. He fit her. That was the last thing she wanted. “Safe. For now. How long before those goons find us?”
He held her tight. “Relax. There’s time to go over all of this.”
His cock swelled against her.
“Oh, I see, the easy answer is you want sex, right?”
The edges of his mouth curled up. “Always. With you.”
Jackie pulled his sunglasses off to let them dangle by the strap against his chest. “What do you mean by always?”
“Always.” His amber eyes were the color of aged scotch with flecks of gold picking up the sun’s rays. Dark clouds swept pass them, and the wind gusted. “Today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year. Forever.”
Forever.
Her mind whirled dizzily.
“I think I need the wine now,” Jackie said. She extracted herself from his grip and padded to the cabin, the world spinning around her.
“Jackie, come back. Don’t run away from me.”
Rage, lust, helplessness, fear, and a dozen other emotions battled in her chest. Suddenly, something snapped. “Come back? Come back?” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “Where am I going to go? We’re in the middle of a huge bay. I can barely see the shore. You’ve kidnapped me. There’s no place to run to, and people have shot at us. We should call the police.”
She leaned against the outside of the cabin. The boat rolled, and she gripped a rail tightly. He came toward her but stopped.
“My participation in the case put you in a bad position professionally. I didn’t want to do that to you. I told Ashe this morning. He wasn’t too happy. My guess is that those creeps chasing us were his people. I’ll call the police when we’re closer to shore. Cell phone coverage out here is spotty at best.”
Jackie’s cheeks flushed. The wind had grown violent and lashed her hair around her face. The anger and frustration with him churned inside. She didn’t need him to take care of her. “You should have told me. I could have remained in the case.”
“I know. But you told me I shouldn’t talk to you. Jesus, what more can I do? I withdraw as an expert in a case that could give me national exposure professionally. I give up possibly the most lucrative business connection I’ll ever have. I risk everything. You know, most other women would be happy. What more do you want?”
Jackie set her feet wide on the deck and tightened her grip on the rail on the top of the cabin behind her. The up-and-down motion of the boat had increased. Her stomach flip-flopped, whether from hunger, the motion of the boat, or sheer anger, she wasn’t sure.
The clouds thickened and shadowed Brandon’s face. Thunder suddenly pounded overhead like a drummer hammering on a bass drum. The sky turned a sickly greenish gray. Sheets of rain came down not more than five hundred yards away.
Jackie’s hold on the rail turned into a death grip. She scanned the horizon. No other boats. The shoreline had disappeared into the wall of rain. Her stomach threatened to empty itself.
“Get below.” Brandon was at her side in a second. A firm hand on her arm, he guided her down the stairs into the cabin.
Jackie clutched Brandon’s shirt. “I can’t swim,” she screeched against the thrumming of the rain.
Brandon took her in his arms. “Calm down. It’s just a squall. I’ve been through a million of these. I can see blue sky beyond it. Get a life jacket on.” He pulled a bright yellow vest from a cubby underneath the bunk and slipped Jackie’s arms through it, like he was dressing a doll. “Exhale,” he told her and pulled the straps tighter than she liked.
“It’s too tight,” she said trying to catch her breath.
“It’s just right. Trust me. Stay down here. If you come up, clip this line on to a rail or anything solidly attached to the boat.” He put the clip and line, which was attached like a harness to the vest, in her hand and kissed her quivering lower lip.