With Valor And Devotion. Charlotte Maclay
trying to take advantage of me.”
“I understand. Perfectly.” With his free hand, he took her duffle, which he assumed was filled with the rest of her scuba gear. “Why don’t you let me show you around my boat? I can even point out useful items that could be used as a weapon if I get fresh with you.”
Still smiling, she fell into step beside him. “I doubt that will be necessary. I’ve taken a couple of self-defense classes.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” He dropped her gear onto the deck of the boat, then offered her his hand to help her onboard. For a scant instant, she hesitated before placing her hand in his.
Her skin was as soft as he’d imagined, her fingers slender and delicate. For a moment he was tempted to raise her hand to his lips and kiss her palm, then thought better of it. She was skittish enough. No sense rushing her.
But like most of the women he dated, he knew sometime soon—very soon, if he had his way—he’d have her in his bed. If she was willing, and if he could find a way to let her know he wasn’t a commitment kind of guy.
THE TWENTY-FOUR-FOOT cabin cruiser sped over the calm water outside the harbor, cutting a foamy-green wake. Belowdecks, where Kristin had stowed her gear, she’d found a small galley and a stateroom in the bow that would sleep two if they didn’t mind being cozy and claustrophobia wasn’t a problem.
On the bridge, Mike was at the wheel, one hip propped on the captain’s chair, looking for all the world as if he were king of the sea. He was dressed to impress in cut-off shorts and a faded T-shirt, and Kristin couldn’t help but notice his hair-roughened legs, the flex of his calf muscles and rock-hard thighs. He was certainly making an impression on her, one she didn’t want to admit to.
“You want to drive a while?” he asked over his shoulder.
“No, you’re doing fine, Captain.” Besides, in spite of herself, Kristin was enjoying the view. There was something very sexy about a man who didn’t wear socks with his deck shoes.
“I thought we’d go out around the point. There’s an old wreck there that’s interesting to explore.”
“Sounds good to me.”
“When I’ve got more time, I like to go out to the Channel Islands, but that’s a little far for a one-day trip.”
Kristin hopped up on the passenger’s chair and made herself comfortable. “Have you had your boat long?”
“A couple of years. I met a guy who had just bought a thirty-five-footer and needed to get rid of this one. I got a good deal on it. Amazing how many friends you acquire when you’ve got a boat.”
Kristin smiled at that. “Fair-weather friends, according to my brothers.”
“You’ve got that straight.” He chuckled. “Your family from around here?”
“Born and bred. My dad was in construction here during the boom days of the eighties and nineties when they couldn’t build houses fast enough to keep pace with the demand. He just dabbles at it now, and my brothers have taken over the business.”
“Lucky them.”
“They think so.” The boat caught the top of a swell and rocked back and forth. Kristin steadied herself on the bulkhead. “How ’bout your family?”
He glanced in her direction. “The fire department is my family.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“Speaking of families,” he said, ignoring her unspoken question, “did you ever find where that kid—Randy—belonged?”
“No. I had to put him in a group foster home. It’s a temporary placement until I can find a more satisfactory arrangement.” One that would take a dog.
“Great. That means he’ll get jerked around one more time.”
Kristin winced at Mike’s sharp tone. “Can’t be helped. We’re always short of qualified foster families, and unless Randy lets us know he’s got a grandmother or aunt or some other relative who’d be responsible for him, I’m afraid there isn’t much I can do.”
Mike didn’t seem pleased with her explanation. People outside the department rarely understood how difficult it was to find good homes for children or how tightly her hands were tied by the rules. She was frequently as frustrated by her job as the critics were of the system, but she and her colleagues were often all the kids had standing between them and being on the streets. Even children as young as Randy.
Off Point Buchon, Mike slowed the boat near the site of the old wreck. He really wished Kristin had some other job—waitress, nurse, teacher, it wouldn’t matter. But he had a lot of bitter memories of social workers who hadn’t given a damn about him or any other kid. Painting her with the same brush might not be fair, but it was hard not to let his past influence his feelings.
Not that any of his social workers had come close to looking like a Technicolor fantasy with vibrant red hair, deep green eyes and a complexion kissed by tiny freckles.
He idled the engine and the boat settled, bobbing in the swells.
“Can you handle the anchor?” he asked.
“Aye-aye, Captain.” She gave him a quick smile as she hopped off her chair and headed for the stern.
“It’s not very deep here,” he called after her. “Maybe forty feet.”
She waved to him. “I got it.”
With admirable efficiency, she released the catch on the anchor rope and let it slide into the sea. Apparently she’d been on boats enough to know how to handle herself. Mike hoped she was equally at ease under the water. Diving with an inexperienced partner was always a little risky.
Killing the engine, he joined her at the stern of the boat. “You want to eat something now or dive first?”
“Let’s dive first. That’s why we’re here.”
Actually, there were a bunch of reasons besides doing a little diving—the winning bid at the bachelor auction only one of them. The fact that she was a social worker didn’t change his primal reaction to her. But if he had been looking for a long-term relationship with a woman—which he wasn’t—he knew she wouldn’t be the one. Too much of his own personal history to overcome.
While Mike hoisted the flag to warn other boats that scuba divers were in the water, Kristin went below-deck to put on her gear. She’d be glad to cool off underwater. Somehow being in close proximity to Mike had heated both her blood and her imagination.
When she came back on deck minutes later, he was set to go. It struck her as totally sexist a man could look so damn good in a wet suit when she felt like she’d been stuffed into hers with a crowbar. Not that she wanted to look sexy for Mike, she reminded herself.
He gave her a swift appraisal that took in every bulge from the top of her head to her bare toes.
“Very nice,” he murmured.
Her ego cheered hooray! while her pride demanded she not let him see how pleased she was with his approval. He certainly knew what a woman wanted to hear, even if it was a lie. “Let’s go take a look, huh?”
“You got it.”
It figured he’d go into the water the macho way. Adjusting his face mask, he did a back flip over the side of the boat.
Kristin was more cautious. Using the swimming ladder he’d lowered, she eased into the water. The cold was a shock initially, but then her body heat warmed the water that was caught between her skin and the wet suit.
She swam to Mike’s side. He gestured for her to follow him down.
It was oddly intimate beneath the surface, just the two of them gliding side by side downward, their only companions an occasional sea perch and a puffer who objected to their visit. Except for the sound