SeaChange (2 page)

He’d bought his cabin cruiser, the
Siren
, partly
because of her aft swim deck. A low, narrow platform stretched across the stern
of the old wooden boat. That was convenient, since Jake could reach it when he
didn’t have legs. He laid the woman across the deck, noting that her bare feet
hung slightly over the end. She must be close to six feet tall. He didn’t know
why that made him smile, but it did. At six-foot-six in his human form, there
weren’t too many women who could look him in the eye, or even come close.

He smoothed the tangles of her hair away from her face,
checking for any obvious head wounds. On her right temple he found an angry
scrape with a lump swelling rapidly beneath it. She lay limp and still, which
was worrisome, especially since he really couldn’t do much else to help her
until his hour was up. A quick glance at the clock on the outside wall of the
cabin told him that he had another forty minutes before he changed back to
human form. One thing he could do, however, was find her friend. So after
making sure she was tucked as close to the hull as possible for safety, he went
back to searching the waves and debris, even diving down to the sea grass beds
to look for a body. Nothing. His friend the dolphin had left to join his pod,
so Jake couldn’t even rely on sonar to help.

By the time the hour was up, Jake knew it was useless. Odds
were, even if the guy had been alive after the wreck, he’d have drowned by now.
He sure wasn’t floating on debris anywhere in the cove.

At the first tingles along his spine, Jake swam back to his
boat and waited for the change. Leaning his elbows on the swim deck, he slowly
swished his tail to and fro beneath the water to hold himself upright while he
watched the woman, who was still out cold. He tried to resist the urge to touch
her, to stroke the tanned skin and silky blonde hair, but the desire was too
visceral to be refused. Slowly, carefully, he removed the rubber band from her
hair and allowed his fingers to work some of the tangles from the long strands.

She stirred once, whimpering when she smacked her hand
against the hull of the boat. He whispered something soothing, stroked her hair
and sent a mental message of well-being. One of those actions must have worked,
since she settled back down into an easier sleep, he hoped, this time. Two or
three minutes later, he had legs again; his body was back in human form. He
climbed on board, lifted the woman in his arms and carried her up to the deck,
then down the steps to the boat’s cabin. After laying her on a long
leather-covered banquette in the salon, he washed her face, examining the vicious
abrasion at her right temple along with a few other cuts and bruises.

Worried about hypothermia, he got her wet clothes off,
trying to maintain a clinical detachment even as he stripped away a sky-blue
bikini. No way that was going to work. She was built like a Viking warrior
queen, tall and strong, but with well-padded curves made to drive a man insane.
Despite the urge to drool, he managed to stay on task. After cleaning her up
the best he could, he dotted antiseptic on the cuts and scrapes, then carried
her to his bed. One of his T-shirts would do as a nightgown; he got that over
her head without jostling her too much. He didn’t like her continued
unconsciousness, but her pulse, respiration and color were good.

After pulling on a pair of cut-off jeans, he stood at the
foot of the bed, watching her. What was it about her that drew him, more than
any woman had in a long, long time? Was it just because she was hurt, or
because the dolphin had liked her enough to risk a rescue? There was something
about her that was just too appealing to be safe. He should get the hell away
from her as fast as possible. He should take her straight into Ensenada, to the
hospital, then be on his merry way. But this was still Mexico, and he trusted
the medics about as much as he trusted the cops. So he headed up the stairs to
set a course for San Diego.

* * * * *

Heidi woke to darkness and pain. The last time her head had
felt like this had been the morning after her one and only frat party as an
undergrad. The one where she’d ended up dancing on the lawn. She wondered what
idiotic stunt she’d pulled this time.

She flung out a hand for the bedside lamp and then whimpered
in additional pain when her fingers slammed into something hard. Like a wall.
The bed beneath her was hard too, come to think of it. Hard and wet. This was
definitely not her bed. So where was she and why couldn’t she remember?

“Ssh. Relax. You’re going to be all right.” The words were
gentle, the voice deep and soft and calming. Fingers touched her brow, smoothed
her hair. She felt an odd sensation of safety and warmth around her. Soothed,
Heidi drifted back to sleep.

When she woke again, there was light. Sort of. She
recognized the dim glow of an incandescent bulb. When her vision cleared she
could see that two lamps were on, reflecting off burnished pine paneling.
Outside the small window, the sky was still dark. The bed beneath her was
bigger and softer than where she’d been before. And it rocked. Ah. She was on a
boat.

Boat!
Heidi jerked into a sitting position as the
memories came flooding back. She remembered the plane, the cigarette boat, the
drug deal. Her stomach rebelled at her movement, but she clenched her arms
around her midriff and clamped down on the nausea as she tried to remember
everything that had happened. And then she remembered the shooting. “Brad!” she
screamed, forgetting that she might be a captive of the drug-runners, that she
might want to feign continued unconsciousness.

The door opened and a man stepped inside. He was tall,
several inches more than Heidi, and had to stoop to enter the cabin. He was
also one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen, with long, wavy black hair
and eyes as dark as sin. Instead of the gun she’d half expected, he held a
chipped black mug in his hand.

“Thirsty?”

Oh God, was she ever. She studied him for a moment, trying
to remember if she’d seen him on the cigarette boat. No way to be sure. In the
darkness, she hadn’t seen them all that clearly. She should refuse. Of course,
if he’d wanted her dead he could have just left her in the ocean. And she
really, really needed that drink. “Thanks.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked.

He walked closer, handed her the mug. He must have seen her
hands shake as she tried to grasp it because he eased it into her grip, then
wrapped his own hand around hers to help her bring it to her lips. She ignored
the tingle she felt at his touch. The tea was lukewarm and very sweet. Heidi
hated sugared tea but she drank it, recognizing that her body needed the fuel
to fight off shock. She sipped slowly until she’d consumed half the mug, then
pushed it away.

“Brad,” she asked again, her voice a little stronger this
time. “My partner. Did you find him?” She wanted nothing more than to jump into
the water and go find him herself, but she knew she wasn’t capable.

“I’m sorry.” His eyes were dark brown, almost black, intense
and mesmerizing. She felt like she could look into them for hours. And she saw
the flash of regret in them even before he answered. “I searched for about an
hour, but I only found you.”

“Not even…” She hated to say it. “A body?”

He shook his head and the long, shaggy black waves tumbled
around a face that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. Empathy poured off
him in waves. He couldn’t be one of the dope runners. Could he? “No. I’m really
sorry,” he repeated.

“Did you shoot him?” The words came out before she could
edit them, damn her fuzzy head. But maybe it was better to get it out in the
open. “Are you one of the drug runners?”

“Me? Hell no!” He let go of her hand, straightened up and
glared at her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared. His affronted expression
would have been almost comical if the situation hadn’t been so important. “I
was taking a midnight cruise, saw the shooting and the wreck. I went in after
the cigarette boat left to look for survivors.”

She sighed, sagged back against the pillows. “Thank you. And
I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” Her voice cracked, but she fought the tears. She
could cry for Brad later, when she didn’t feel so numb. Right now she needed to
get home, report his death. And maybe, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut
against the pain, get some painkillers for this concussion. Clothes would be
good too. She realized she was wearing a T-shirt and nothing more. How
humiliating to have had a total stranger, and a hot one at that, undress her.

“I’ve got aspirin,” he offered, his warm voice soft and
gentle again. “Nothing stronger, I’m afraid. Aspirin and Bactine are about the
extent of my drug-running. And you’re already wearing most of the Bactine.”

“Aspirin would be great.”

He crossed to a cabinet with a small mirror above. Windows
on three sides told her she was in the very stern of the boat. The cabin was
made of polished teak paneling, with lots of built-in storage. Gorgeous, like
its owner. The man withdrew a bottle and shook some pills into his hand. The he
returned to her, curled the fingers of one of her hands around the mug, pressed
three tablets into her other palm. “Here you go. We’re on course for San Diego;
I can get you to a hospital once we get there in about two, two-and-a-half
hours. I wasn’t sure Mexico would be safe.”

She swallowed the aspirin with the rest of the tea. “Thank
you,” she whispered, letting the tears fill her eyes this time. There was
nothing she could do at the moment anyway, not ‘til they got to shore. “San
Diego’s great, but I don’t need the hospital. When we dock, I can call somebody
to come get me, I think. My car’s in Mexico. Do you have a cell phone? Mine was
on the Zodiac.”

“I was thinking of calling an ambulance,” he told her,
studying her as if trying to gauge the extent of her injuries. “Does anything
hurt besides your skull? You’ve got a nasty knock on the right temple.”

She thought for a second, wiggled her fingers and toes, and
flexed her major muscle groups. “No. Some aches and bruises, but the only real
sore spot is the side of my head. And since you gave me the aspirin, that
should calm down to a dull roar. I’ve had concussions before, I know the drill.
I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

He shrugged. “Up to you.”

“What time is it?” The shooting had happened right after
midnight, she remembered. She’d seen the time on her phone when she’d checked
for a signal.

“About four. By the time I got you on board and cleaned up,
it was almost two. And I headed out to sea quite a bit. I didn’t want to run
into the guys in the other boat.”

“Good call. Thank you.” That meant he had searched the sea
for at least an hour, like he’d said. It helped to know he’d really looked for
Brad. It felt less as if she was abandoning her friend, though some part of her
wanted to do nothing more than curl up and scream out her grief. She was sure
that would hit eventually, after the numbness of shock had worn off. She’d been
like this when her parents died—very calm and lucid at first, then a total
wreck for days after the funeral. Brad had been there to help her through their
deaths. How would she manage now, alone?

Then another thought popped into her rattled brain. “How did
you know there were two of us?”

“You passed me earlier. You waved.”

She frowned, trying to remember. They’d passed several other
boats. She looked around for hints, her eyes taking in the vintage look of the
cabin, which was austerely furnished but beautifully maintained. Then it
dawned. “The old wooden cruiser. You were reading on the sundeck.” She
remembered the boat, had remarked on the gorgeous antique. Brad had laughed,
calling her old-fashioned. He’d always preferred sleek, modern styles and tons
of horsepower. She’d noticed the man too, come to think of it, just hadn’t made
the connection when she’d seen him with a shirt on. Brad had agreed with her
taste on that count.

“Bingo. Welcome aboard the
Siren
. Forty-two feet of
wooden glory, vintage 1937.”

“She’s a beauty.” Heidi wriggled. Damn, she really had to go
to the bathroom. The movement made her aware of stinging pains in at least a
dozen locations. She must have winced.

“Thanks, I like to think so.” He set the mug down, turned to
leave, then paused at the door. “I’m Jake, by the way. I’ve seen you naked, but
I don’t even know your name.”

“Heidi,” she replied automatically. She felt her face flush
and turned her eyes down, noting the faded orange Jimmy Buffett T-shirt she
wore. She hoped he hadn’t been too disgusted by what he’d seen. Mustering a
smile, she looked back up to meet his gaze. “Heidi Eriksen.”

“Nice name.” He gave her a nod and a half-smile. “Mine is
Jake Delos.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake.” She held out her hand, and the
sheet she had pulled up to her waist fell to her thighs. She hastily pulled the
sheet back up to her waist, felt another blush that probably turned her whole
face bright red.

“I had to take off the wetsuit,” he told her apologetically.
He didn’t move back into the room to take her hand. “You were chilled, and I
didn’t want you going into shock.”

“Right,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “Can I have it
back?”

“It got pretty shredded in the wreck. I couldn’t tell how
badly you were hurt, so I cut the rest away. Your bikini’s hanging in the head,
though, and I’ll get you something to wear over it.” He rummaged in a drawer,
came up with a pair of drawstring running shorts, which he tossed to her. He
jerked his thumb toward a door on the far wall. “Head’s through there. Yell if
you need anything.”

Duh
,
head
. Even after all the time Heidi had
spent on boats in the last few years, it still took her a second to realize he’d
pointed her toward the bathroom. Then he turned and left the room, closing the
door with a near-silent snick, and Heidi was alone.