Space in His Heart (20 page)

They all got in
the way of work.

But this one?
No, she couldn’t remember feeling quite like this in a long, long
time. How did that man get such a hold on her? It was all lust.

In the
bathroom, she flipped the faucet to burning hot and poured some
lavender gel.

Since he
had kissed her, she
had
thought entirely too much about where that kiss could have
led. The thought made her legs watery and weak and she felt like
laughing out loud at her schoolgirl fantasies
.

After lighting
a few scented candles in the bath and living room, Jessica picked
an appropriately bluesy Anita Baker CD and filled her tiny home
with the jazzy sounds of a woman in love. Getting lost in her
ritual of bath, candles, and music, she poured a glass of wine,
slipped off her clothes and clipped up her hair. The sound of a
passing car engine outside caught her attention momentarily as she
walked back into the bathroom in her underwear. Then a car door
slammed. Unmistakably. In her driveway.

A tingling fear
shot up her spine and weakened her knees. She closed the bathroom
door to grab a short silk robe that hung there and waited for the
next sound. Anita Baker crooned in the background, but Jessica
tried to hear over her.

The
doorbell rang.
Rapists and murderers don’t ring
doorbells
. Slowly, she
opened the bathroom door and came around the corner, still unable
to see the front door, which was blocked by the entry
wall.

“Who is
it?”

“Deke.”

She stopped
mid-step as apprehension melted into something far more shocking to
her system.

Turning the
corner, she peered through the three glass panels in the front
door. Was he drunk? He’d barely touched one beer and she’d left the
Driftwood less than an hour earlier.

She inched the
door open and searched his face. He studied her and his gaze moved
beyond her, taking in the flickering candles and soft music. His
attention moved back to her, down the robe that barely covered
her.

“I—um—are you
alone?”

She bit her
lip. “As far as I know.” The adrenaline rush left her shaky and she
leaned against the doorjamb for balance.

“Could I come
in?” He looked unsure, uncertain. She’d never seen him this
way.

“
No.”
Maybe it was self-preservation. Hell, maybe she was playing hard to
get. But, he would
not
come in this
house, she decided. Not tonight. Not after putting her in the
freezer all evening. She tightened the silk ties of her robe and
leveled him with a hard stare.

“Okay. I
understand.” He raised his hands in a slight gesture of surrender
and his gaze slipped down and right back up again. “I wasn’t too
friendly tonight.”

“No. But I
don’t expect friendliness from you, Commander Stockard.” A surge of
satisfaction shot through her at his cringe. “What do you
want?”

He took a deep
breath. “To ask you to go sailing with me before you leave.”

“Sailing?” He
was too much. “You don’t acknowledge my existence in a bar for an
hour and then drop by to ask me to go sailing?”

“I can explain
that.” He reached across the short space between them and touched
her chin, the slightest whisper of flesh against flesh. His eyes
closed partially, and Jessica’s heart started to feel like
chocolate left in the burning Florida sunshine.

“
So.
Explain.”
Then kiss the hell out of me.

“Tomorrow. I
can explain tomorrow. You’re not leaving until Sunday, right?” He
kept his hand on her chin, the steady, guiding hand of a pilot. He
lifted her face a millimeter, closer to him. “I’d really like to
show you… what’s so special about this little corner of the world.”
His finger trailed a little lower, maddeningly close to the curve
under her chin. “So we can be sure you want to come back.”

Be sure of it, Deacon Stockard
.

Common sense
came floating back to the surface, but she didn’t step away from
the bliss of his touch. “I don’t know. I… I don’t think I
should.”

“Why not?”

“Aren’t you mad
at me for the Sydney Lynn event?”

His eyes
twinkled. “I’m a reasonable guy. I have time for a date now and
then.”

His
knuckle grazed her collarbone
,
and then his fingers dropped dangerously close to the thin
silk material over her breasts. Anita Baker started her next
ballad.

“Is sailing
with you a date?”

He raised one
eyebrow ever so slightly. “If you want it to be.”

She shook her
head. “No. No. I can’t. I have to pack. I have to—”

“Or it can just
be a little tour of the river. Strictly aboveboard.” He smiled at
his own double entendre. Before she could answer, he slowly removed
his hand. She had to fight the urge to grab it and put it back on
her skin. “Tomorrow morning. At my dock around nine. No
photographers.”

She laughed a
little. “How’d you know what I was thinking?”

He continued
backward, easily navigating the half step down to the walk and
keeping his gaze on her. He shook his head a little. To clear it,
perhaps.

One more time
his eyes traveled deliberately over her body, down her bare legs,
and back up to her face. She felt dizzy. She felt needy. She wanted
him to run right back here and—

“See you
tomorrow, sweetheart.”

She closed the
door, quaking deep and low, and braced herself against the hard
wood for support. What did she just agree to? Anita Baker hit a
high note of love and longing and Jessica felt her heart go right
along for the ride.

Chapter
Fifteen

Deke awoke
early to check the forecast. By seven o’clock, he had brewed some
strong coffee and spent a quiet moment on the dock observing the
skies and discerning the direction and strength of the winds.

Deke Stockard
had never second-guessed a decision in his life and he wasn’t about
to start this morning. In fact, he congratulated himself for
salvaging what was left of his miserable week. Today, he didn’t
want to think about coolant tube inspections or emergency landings.
He didn’t even want to discuss his required role at some silly
movie premiere next week. All he wanted was the simple seduction of
the wind in his sails and the company of one extraordinarily
appealing woman.

Padding
about in nothing but draw-string sweat pants, he took his time
preparing their lunch, wondering what
Jessica
might be thinking about today. She was
softening to him, he thought with certainty. He wanted her in the
most physical way, but something else had nagged at him since
they’d returned from New York. He
liked
her. Her cool demeanor that covered a softie inside, her
biting, teasing wit she used as a guard, and most of all, her fiery
enthusiasm for life. All in a package he couldn’t wait to
unwrap.

Two hours later
with the boat packed, he stood on the deck, wrapping the lines and
making his instinctive last-minute checks. He caught sight of her
walking down the river path toward his dock. She wore jeans and a
white tee shirt that pressed against her in the slight breeze and
clung to her body. With a sweater tied around her shoulders and her
hair in a ponytail, she looked like a teenager. He never got tired
of looking at her.

“
Permission
to
board?” she asked with a tentative smile as she reached the
end of the dock.

He reached out
and offered his hand to help her onto the deck. “Welcome aboard my
humble vessel. She’s small, but sturdy and fast.”

He guided her
to a spot near the helm and continued the last-minute
preparations.

“It’s not so
small,” Jessica commented. “What kind of sailboat is this?”

“A
twenty-eight-foot Tanzer sloop.”

“
Tailwind
. Nice
name. Does it have a special meaning?”

“It’s a pilot’s
most favorable flight condition,” he told her. “Have you sailed
before?”

“A few times
around the Boston Harbor.”

“You have the
option of handling the jib sheets and cranking the winch when we
come about and tack into the wind,” he said with a smile. “Or you
can just sit there and relax while I do the work.”

“I’ll give it a
shot.” Of course, she’d rise to the challenge. “I must admit, Deke,
you don’t strike me as the sailing type.”

“I’m in the
Navy, remember?”

“Come on—fast
cars, fast planes. It doesn’t fit. I imagine you in one of those
go-fast boats with deafening engines guys like you can’t
resist.”

What he
couldn’t resist was… her. “You don’t think I’m in touch with my
sensitive side?”

She laughed out
loud and shook her head. “No, not exactly.”

“You
underestimate me. But, there is a motor, just in case the wind
dies.” He dangled a key on a rubber key chain in front of her. “A
baby diesel, but it gets us away from the dock.”

He twisted the
key into the ignition and played with the throttle and pedal until
they motored off. When they reached the channel of the Banana
River, he killed the engine, raised the mainsail, and cut her
straight into the wind. The silence, broken only by the whip of the
elegant curve of canvas, engulfed them. He took a deep breath.

He waited for
the peace he always felt at this moment. But when he glanced at the
woman leaning against a cushion, wind whipping her dark hair around
an angel’s face, he was far from peaceful. The chill in the water’s
spray left a whisper of goose bumps on her skin and through her
white tee shirt he could see the tantalizing effects of the cool
air on her hardened nipples.

No peace
, he
thought, fighting the maddeningly automatic rush of blood at the
sight of her. How long would
it
take him to entice her to the cabin below?

* * *

Curling
up on the port-side cushion, Jessica tore her gaze from the amazing
sight
of
Deke working
the helm. It wasn’t easy. He looked like an ad out of a boating
magazine, with
jeans
pressed against his powerful thighs and the sleeves of his
lightweight sweatshirt pushed up just enough to reveal brawny
forearms. She rubbed her own arms and forced her attention to the
shore.

“You know, if
you let your eyes unfocus on the tree line, it almost looks like
hills along the river,” she commented to him. “God, I miss
hills.”

“No talk of
snow or hills on this sail, please. Remember, the Cape Canaveral
Chamber of Commerce is hard at work to showcase our natural beauty.
Humor me, okay?”

“For a while,”
she agreed, studying the pastel Florida homes and boats of every
imaginable size and shape tucked in coves of mangroves. “Actually,”
she said quietly, “it’s really lovely here.”

“Now you’re getting it
. All right, coming about. You know what to do
with that winch?”

She dove
into action with a significant amount of instruction from him and
every ounce of strength she could muster, but it felt truly
satisfying when the boom flipped to the opposite side of the boat
and the contour of the mainsail gracefully reversed itself
with a resounding snap in the wind
.

As they tacked
back and forth, he asked enough questions to get her chatting about
her job. When she described the wonderful camaraderie she felt with
her colleagues, he smiled sheepishly.

“That would
include one Jo Miller, I take it.”

“Jo, yes, of
course. Have I mentioned her?”

He looked out
over the bow and paused before he spoke softly. “I told you I owed
you an explanation for last night.”

Jessica’s heart
flipped at the intimate tone and she searched her mind for a
possible part Jo could have played in it. “Yes?”

“I overheard
you talking to her.”

“Oh, I
remember.” It seemed like a year ago. “You walked into my office on
one of my first days here and I hung up on her.”

He
nodded. “And again, last Monday. I was on my way to ask if you’d
like to go sailing today and I heard you talking to her
.
I thought you were talking to
your boyfriend.” At her incredulous look, he laughed. “I don’t
usually call Jeff Clark ‘honey.’”

“You don’t
understand women.”

“Never said I
did.” He shot her a sly grin. “Coming about. Honey.”

They reached
the intersection of the Banana and Indian Rivers and anchored in
wide-open space away from the boats and water traffic. In a few
minutes, he transformed the deck into a dining area with a portable
tabletop, then proceeded to fill it with his delicious gourmet
lunch.

“
Wow.
Impressive.” Jessica lifted a container of oil-cured black and
green olives. “I really could get some mileage out of your culinary
skills. Let me think, how about
Space in the Kitchen—The Astronaut’s
Cookbook?”

He laughed
nervously and raised a doubtful eyebrow. “I never know if you’re
serious about this stuff or not.”

“Definitely
serious.” She smiled contentedly and leaned back on a cushion. “We
could release it with the poster.”

He froze, a
roasted pepper dangling from his plastic fork. “What poster?”

“I didn’t
mention the poster?” She shifted on the cushions and tried to look
innocent.

“No.”

“Oh. I thought
I… well, we sold one of those great shots of you and the T-38. We
presented it to a poster company and they’re reproducing it.”