Читать книгу Riding the Storm - Joanne Rock - Страница 10

MAYBE SHE’D READ a few too many romance novels over the years, but Josie couldn’t help lingering in the shower the next day, fantasizing provocative scenarios involving stowaways and sexy sea captains.

Didn’t the ship captain always insist on stashing his nubile female passenger in his quarters to protect her from his men? Of course, then he had to sleep in the cabin with her to keep an eye on her. Inevitably, he couldn’t keep his hands off her—an arrangement that led to page after page of scandalously delicious sex without the judgmental eyes of regular society looking on.

Standing there, with hot water streaming over her skin, Josie was grateful to the twenty-first century for all modern conveniences. But she wouldn’t mind a little time travel for the sake of some sensual play with her host. She’d dreamed about him last night, her overheated imagination conjuring vivid encounters between them. So much so, in fact, she was somewhat nervous about seeing him face-to-face today.

All that stuff she’d dreamed had seemed so real. In theory, she should simply accept her fantasies as a wake-up call to indulge her needs as a female more often, and perhaps work a bit less. That would be the grown-up, well-adjusted-woman’s reaction. But who was so well adjusted that she could ignore memories of a hot guy undressing her—inch by slow inch—with his teeth? She suspected she’d blush ten shades of pink when she saw him.

Switching off the water, she reached for a towel and dried herself, wondering how to ignore her unwise interest in Keith. The man surely ran in the same circles as her parents, or at the very least would recognize her family name. Would he know about her scandalous past if she’d introduced herself as Josie Davenport instead of Josie Passano? She’d taken her mother’s maiden name after the congressman scandal, glad to formalize her departure from the trust-fund lifestyle that she’d been raised in. She’d stayed out of the society pages for three years while she’d built the new business, letting Marlena attend any work-related events that might attract a tabloid element. The last thing Josie needed was to have her past dragged back out for the world to see before she made her interior design business a success with the regional TV show deal.

And, guaranteed, being seen around New York or Boston with someone like Keith would land her back in the spotlight she needed to avoid.

Yet for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like making the smart choice professionally. As she put on the navy T-shirt Keith had given her the night before, along with her own jeans, she acknowledged that she wanted to live out all the things she’d dreamed about with him. What her subconscious didn’t seem to comprehend was that she would find a man to have a fling with, and let off a little steam. Really, she would. But Keith should not be that guy.

She towel dried her hair and dredged up some lip gloss and moisturizer from her purse. When she looked halfway presentable, and wasn’t actively fantasizing about Keith’s mouth on her…

Whoops.

Trying again to clear her mind, she shoved her other clothes in an empty grocery sack she’d found folded in a bathroom drawer. Taking the sack and her purse with her, she wound her way through the quiet salon and galley toward the companionway, where daylight spilled down into the lower level.

Voices above drew her attention.

“Keith?” she called, stepping up the first stair.

Who could he be speaking to in the middle of the sea? Had the Coast Guard come to check on them after their radio call last night?

“Morning.” Keith appeared at the top of the stairs, freshly shaved. Dressed in faded gray cargo shorts and a white polo shirt layered over a white T-shirt, he looked clean and…delicious.

She felt her cheeks warm and knew a blush had colored her skin from the roots of her hair to her neckline. Damn it.

At least she’d gotten it out of the way, right?

“Good morning.” Stepping up onto the main deck, she discovered they weren’t anchored out in the middle of nowhere anymore. “I see you did some sailing while I was sleeping again.” The boat—the Vesta, he’d called it—was already docked on the little island of Nantucket. She’d been there enough times to recognize the south wharf with the rows of gray, cedar-sided cottages lining nearby docks.

Gentle waves rocked their sailboat in time with all the other watercraft in nearby slips. The view, while pretty, made her realize she wouldn’t have been any better at discerning one vessel from another in the light of day. Now, if they redid their sails in purple paisley or muted floral chintz, she’d be all set.

And, yikes, didn’t that sound like something her mom would say, martini glass in hand as she strolled around the deck?

“I woke up early and figured you would just as soon be docked when you opened your eyes. I pulled into the marina about half an hour ago.” He took the bag of clothes and settled it on a seat cushion near the helm.

As a warm breeze lifted her damp hair off her shoulders, she noticed he’d already relocated her design books to the same canvas bolster.

So eager to be rid of her? Disappointment outweighed her relief that a separation would ensure no one resurrected her old scandal by photographing them together.

“Then I won’t keep you.” She dug in her purse for her business cards. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get under way on your trip, and I’m sorry to have slowed you down.” Finding the sterling silver case, she handed him a card.

Frowning, he took the cream-colored linen stock bearing the logo that Marlena had designed as one of her first projects as an intern.

“I’m in no hurry.” He tucked the card into the pocket of his shorts. “In fact, I’d hoped to buy you breakfast by way of apology for the, uh…accidental kidnapping. I figure if I can bribe you with eggs and sausage, you’ll be less likely to press charges.”

Pleasure warmed her to her toes while she weighed the probability of anyone recognizing Keith in Nantucket. While she debated the question, a young family pulled a big powerboat into the slip beside them. A boy and a girl—both knee-high and dressed in navy-and-white-striped T-shirts—waved from either side of their mother, while their dad steered the craft into place. “I am hungry,” Josie admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m just as guilty as you, since I was the trespasser last night. If anything, I should probably be buying you breakfast.”

Or dinner, maybe, after an afternoon of acrobatic sex that left them both ravenous. The thought heated her cheeks again, warming her all over in spite of the mild sea breeze. Now why had she said that? Sharing a meal in public with him was a risky proposition at any time. Hadn’t she promised herself she was done dating guys who attracted tabloid interest? She had no desire to dredge up her “party-girl” past, after working hard to bury that image.

Although she couldn’t help but be miffed that she’d earned the rep without any of the fun it implied. She’d networked her butt off on those nightclub outings, pitching her fashions to the social elite. She’d hoped to catch a few trendy clients who didn’t mind taking a risk on a new designer. One of her few impulsive moves during that time had been a kiss in a back alley with a cute guy who’d flirted with her relentlessly. All the other pictures the media had gathered to create the “party-girl” montage had been from her rebellious teenage years, before she’d channeled her energies into productive creativity.

“Hmm. I don’t think any judge would see much of a threat in a five-foot trespasser bearing fifty pounds of design swatches.” Keith hopped out onto the dock to help the speedboat owner with the young family tie his craft to a cleat. “But how about we debate it over coffee?”

He flashed white teeth, his easy charm drawing her toward him in spite of herself.

“I’m five foot three, actually.” Leaving her books behind, she stepped onto the dock, while the kids in the striped shirts and their mom came closer to the bow to watch Keith tie the line. “And I happen to have great aim with a can of Mace, although since I was drugged at the time, I probably didn’t pose much danger.”

Finishing the knot, Keith reached up to give each of the preschoolers a high five. Turning to Josie, he held out his arm.

“Are you ready?”

Her heart sped foolishly, even as she told herself they were only sharing a couple of eggs in the most out-of-the-way restaurant she could find. One meal together and she’d head for home.

“Absolutely.” Ready to battle the unwise attraction long enough to thank him for delivering her safely to shore, she dropped her fingers into the crook of his elbow.

This would be like any other friendly networking meeting, she told herself. But as her skin tingled from that small, casual touch, Josie feared her body was ready to betray her good intentions at the slightest provocation.

AN HOUR OF BREAKING BREAD with Josie had yielded a wealth of useful information about her. They hadn’t found a restaurant still serving breakfast at noon, so they’d settled for sandwiches and microbrews at a quiet local pub.

Now, while they finished off the last of the beer and waited for the check, Keith steered the conversation back to his discovery that she was as much a workaholic as he’d been up until this week. Apparently, she’d worked in the fashion industry after college, then taken a job at a large interior-decorating firm before starting her own company eighteen months ago.

“So, you know, I’m taking a vacation for the first time in three years.” He kept his empty longneck in his hand, hoping the waitress would be slow to return, since he still wanted to learn more about the woman across from him in the tall, private booth. “When’s the last time you took a stab at some rest and relaxation?”

“Hmm.” She played with the unused knife near her plate, flipping the heavy piece over and over on the scarred wood table. A series of skinny silver bands covered her ring finger right up to the knuckle. “I went to Mexico with some girlfriends before I started at that big interior-design firm, so that would be…two and a half years ago.”

Nearby, a busboy juggled drinks for a corner table full of older women who’d ordered a big, candle-covered birthday cake a little while ago.

“Almost as long as me.” Keith shifted in his seat, his knee lightly grazing hers. Once. Twice. Until she looked up at him, almost as if to accuse him of flirting with her on purpose. But his expression must have remained neutral enough, because she went back to playing with her knife.

Her cheeks had gone warm again, though, and he noticed she soon set aside the knife to take a drink of her water. He was determined not to let this attraction get the better of him today, determined to pursue her without getting lost in her dark eyes.

“Yes. I think I’m overdue for a vacation.” Her lips were damp from the water glass, shiny and kissable. “But I’m really trying to lock down a shot at a cable show to bring local decorating inspiration to people in the Boston market.”

With an effort, he pulled his attention away from her lips while a group at the bar broke out in raucous laughter. The establishment wasn’t packed to capacity, but it was plenty busy for the midday meal.

“Which means you have no intention of taking a vacation anytime soon.” Keith had made enough excuses to friends over the years that he recognized the blow-off. The certainty that it was better to work than to play.

No doubt about it, Josie was driven.

“Well, I hired an employee a few months ago, so if I fail now, it’s not just me who loses out on a paycheck. Plus—” she released the knife and rested her fingers on the table, not all that far from his “—I’m trying to get out from under college loans and some financial help my parents gave me when I was starting out. I’ve come to the point where I don’t want to feel I owe anyone anything.”

He wanted to move her plate aside and cover her hand with his. Stroke each finger and plant a kiss in the middle of her palm before venturing up her arm. He remembered exactly how smooth she felt from those brief touches the night before.

“That’s admirable.” Keith tried to keep the thread of the conversation, knowing he had to be on his game if he hoped to convince her to take a chance with him. “It’s rewarding to build a company from the ground up. It took a lot of effort to get Green Principles off the ground, but it was really worth it.”

The deal he had brewing now, in fact, would make them a global affiliate with the Wholesome Branding marketing firm. Green Principles services would be automatically offered and recommended to all Wholesome Branding clients. Keith’s company was entering a new phase of growth.

“So what does your firm do, exactly?” She’d asked attentive business questions all through lunch, keeping the conversation on less personal footing wherever possible. Which made it damn difficult to proposition her.

He kept wondering if she remembered much of what he’d said to her the night before. Did she recall him touching her? He clenched his fingers, fighting the need to remind her.

“We’re a consulting company.” He focused on the words and wished he hadn’t finished his drink. “We hire out to big business to help them navigate increasingly tough environmental laws and to create environmental initiatives unique to their industry. Our goal is to help them be more than just compliant, but actually cutting edge.”

The company had started out so high-minded and grassroots oriented that he’d been surprised by how lucrative the business had become. Astonishing how much a guy could accomplish when he focused on work instead of finding the right woman. Of course, that meant he hadn’t had a date in a dog’s age….

And, amazingly, Josie appeared interested. Not just in him, but in his work, too.

“Hey, folks.” Their flustered waitress, with a ketchup stain on her blouse and a trayful of empty glasses, paused at the table. “Sorry to take so long, but we’re short a busboy today.” After sliding the bill across the table, she removed their plates. “I hear we’ve got a cold front coming our way. No rain yet, I hope.”

Josie peered between the beer signs in the window toward the street. “It was nice out when we came in,” she replied, reaching for the slip of paper.

Over his dead body.

“No way.” He snatched the check with ease, the appropriate bill already in his hand. He put them both on the waitress’s tray alongside the empty glasses. “I’m buying your silence with this meal, remember?”

While the waitress helped his cause, hurrying away amid protests, Keith realized their time together was drawing short and he hadn’t accomplished nearly enough over lunch to justify propositioning Josie quite yet. Damn it.

They left the pub and walked out into the midday sunlight. He steered her toward a wooden bench by the sidewalk to discuss where to go next. The downtown area remained quiet now that the high tourist season had come to a close. But a few rented mopeds and bicycles filled a rack nearby. He didn’t want Josie to leave, but convincing a woman he’d known for less than twenty-four hours to get back on board the Vesta with him to sail off into the unknown was unlikely.

Working against him was most of what he’d learned over lunch—that her ambition rivaled his own, that she never took time off and that she would be “thrilled” to make a pitch to Murphy Resorts should they ever be interested in exploring design alternatives at any of their properties. In fact, as a man who’d been hit on by business prospects of his own in the past, he’d recognized Josie’s smooth redirecting of the conversation anytime he’d veered into mildly flirtatious terrain.

But he’d learned something else intriguing about her over lunch.

She wanted him.

That wasn’t arrogance on his part. It was fact. It didn’t matter that she presented a charming professional image. He could tell by the way her pupils widened when he leaned closer that she wasn’t as unaffected as she pretended. Then there’d been moments when her gaze had lingered on him those extra few seconds before she looked away, her cheeks turning a shade of pink that didn’t come from a makeup compact.

The signs were there. It was just a matter of helping her act on it.

“So what’s your time frame for the trip to Charleston?” she asked, hovering by the bench he’d pointed out, then peering back to a storefront behind them. “Actually, before you answer that, would you mind terribly if we popped into this store for a clean shirt so I can return the one I borrowed?”

She plucked at the worn cotton fabric of his brother’s too-large tee that said Navy in big block letters. On Josie, it read Av, since the other letters were hidden in the excess material at her sides.

“Sure.” He regretted not thinking of it himself. He’d been so focused on getting what he wanted with her, he’d neglected to consider what she needed. An oversight he would not repeat. As they approached the boutique, he held the door for her. “I’ll be curious to see if a decorator spends a lot of time choosing clothes or if the professional eye makes the process faster.”

She slid past him into the dim, artsy store filled with more mannequins than actual clothes, her slight figure barely stirring a breeze, yet commanding attention even in an oversize T-shirt. Something about the way she carried herself—confident and brisk—gave the impression she was someone important, someone people should recognize.

After greeting the salesclerk with a wave, Josie peered back at Keith over her shoulder.

“Normally, I dress with the same care I’d use when decorating a room, since the way I look is kind of an advertisement for the business.” She moved toward a rack full of white blouses, and walked her fingers through the hangers in search of the right size. “I mean, who would trust a decorator who shows up in yoga pants and a T-shirt? Clients expect someone in my line of work to look more put together.”

Moving through the store with efficiency, she had two shirts and a pair of pants in hand already. As she turned toward the next rack, he anticipated the move and stepped in front of her. Surprising her. Surprising himself, to a certain extent. He hadn’t planned to make his play for her here and now, but he didn’t want to wait any longer.

The dimly lit, overly air-conditioned store created an odd sense of privacy, since the loud, pulsing music isolated them from the lone salesclerk chatting away on a cell phone at the counter in the back of the shop.

“I hope you don’t see me as a client you need to impress.” He calculated their distance in inches. Not nearly close enough. Still, her elbow brushed his chest as she clutched the hangers to her.

Belatedly, she retracted her arm, tightening her grip on the clothes as if she could halt the attraction between them by not touching him. He hoped like hell that trick wouldn’t work.

“I know better than to presume anyone will sign on with me,” she protested, carefully keeping things on a safe footing. “You haven’t even seen my work—”

Waving off her words, he shook his head.

“Not because of that. I’m sure you’re very good at what you do. What I meant was, I hope you won’t let business get in the way of something…better.” He had to put his cards on the table soon or she’d be dressed in new clothes and penciling him into her appointment book for a sales pitch before they said goodbye.

“Hey, hon,” the young salesclerk shouted to Josie over the loud music, one hand over her cell phone to muffle her voice. “The fitting room is in the back. There’s a place where your friend can have a seat while you try stuff on.”

She gestured toward an archway near a shoe rack, the huge cocktail ring she wore glinting under one of the store’s blue spotlights.

And thank you, Miss Disinterested Salesgirl. She’d just given Keith the break he’d been looking for.

“Can we talk for a minute?” He took the clothes from Josie’s arms. “Let me carry these for you.”

Judging from her expression, she had mixed feelings about a conversation in the dressing room. But hey, if he was going to give her a hard sell on the merits of spending more time with him, better to do it in a public place where she knew she could walk away, than on the boat, where she might feel trapped.

He led her under the arch near the shoe rack. A love seat had been situated near a small table holding a coffeepot and a pitcher of water. The sofa sat across from a three-way mirror. A smaller room with a bench inside was visible beyond a half-drawn velvet curtain.

Behind him, Josie’s flat shoes clicked double-time to keep up. He used his lead to deposit the clothes she’d chosen in the fitting area, then he backed away to sit on an arm of the love seat so he didn’t look like some loser in the market to catch a view of her naked. Not that he wasn’t in the market, per se. But he had every intention of waiting until she offered that opportunity to him freely.

“I’m not sure—” she began.

He rushed to cut off that line of thinking.