Where It Began. Kathleen Pickering
idea for you to adjust your sea legs before we got too far.”
Something told her that was not what he wanted to say, but given her queasy stomach, he might have a point. “You’re worried for my welfare?”
He held her gaze a moment too long before a sheepish grin broke. “Nah. I just don’t want you puking on my teak.”
Under other circumstances, she might have laughed, but right now she suspected he meant it. She placed the bottle back into the holder.
“So, now we just wait?”
Daniel nodded. “It’s only a couple of hours. How about we put together some nachos, enjoy the breeze and chat?”
Suddenly, going below with Del Rio at her heels was the last thing she wanted, especially with nothing to do for hours. Why hadn’t she taken the time to reason what it would be like to be alone with him on the Honora? Lord. It felt way more intimate that she had expected. She had been so focused on making her plans happen, that she hadn’t given any thought to the notion of them being isolated together. And damn if close proximity to this man didn’t set her nerve endings tingling. Now turning back was too late.
Months ago, she’d refused to feel attracted to this man, who only seemed concerned with playing shadow to Poppa while leaving her to find her own way back to sanity. Yesterday, she’d told herself that if he truly cared about her, he would have jumped at the chance to help her recover her memory. But no. Clearly, he was too self-serving, which made his physical appeal totally unfair.
She pushed past him, planting herself on a cockpit cushion, her fingers curling around the lifeline for more reasons than the ship’s sway. She closed her eyes, her stomach starting to roil with the rocking.
“I’d prefer to stay in the cockpit. I need air.”
He returned to the helm, sitting on the cushion inches away from her, and took another sip of Modelo. Silent, concerned, he glanced at her as if he sensed her disquiet. She didn’t want his understanding right now; just his compliance. She had a task to fulfill. She didn’t like the reaction her body was having to him.
A flush heated her cheeks at his nearness. “And what exactly is your schedule, Captain?” She couldn’t help the edge in her question.
He shrugged. “To take you to Little Harbour.”
Impatience snapped at her heels like a nasty dog. She wanted to be there yesterday. “When will we sail?”
He glanced at his watch, at the sun low in the western sky, then at her.
“After midnight. Maybe 2:00 or 3:00 a.m.”
His blue eyes matched the damned glorious sky behind him, wreaking havoc with her pulse and making her want to paint an abstract of them on her soul.
Her body froze. Where did that thought come from? With only three weeks to accomplish her goal, she had no time to explore her attraction to a man who had agreed to help her only to please her father. A thought struck: perhaps Del Rio was a gold digger. Perhaps it was Reefside he was after. Maybe this rudderless ship’s captain hoped to gain a home through Poppa, so he’d canceled his Australian plans to accommodate her.
Not while I live and breathe.
If that were true, then Del Rio was truly despicable. With that thought, she unceremoniously quashed any attraction she might feel for this man. He had one, and only one, purpose: take her to Little Harbour. Other than his ability to captain the Honora, she had no use for Daniel Murphy Del Rio.
She breathed in the sea air, feeling infinitely restored. “So what do you figure? Four days to Little Harbour?”
He compressed his lips as if calculating. Given his experience, he should know the answer, immediately.
“I estimate six, maybe seven, days.”
Suspicion narrowed her eyes, and she realized she could use her sunglasses right about now. “I have a travel book, Captain. It says a yacht of this size can make the journey in three to four days.”
He took another swig of beer. “That’s if you hurry.”
Her temper started simmering. “You know I don’t want to waste any time.”
“You want your memory back?”
The question seemed to upset him. She answered slowly, trying to determine his intent. “Of course. Why else would I be here?”
His gaze held hers. “Then we should retrace the same journey you originally took to get to Little Harbour.”
She didn’t like where this conversation was leading. “How do you know how I got there?”
He looked past her to the horizon. “You’d be surprised what I know, Princess.” Frowning, he dropped his voice almost to a whisper. He leaned against the cushions and slugged the rest of his beer. “So, how about those nachos?”
“Oh, just like that, you criticize my lack of memory then ask me to wait on you? Have you lost your mind, Captain?”
Once again, here she was with no recall, while Del Rio smugly sounded like he knew all the answers. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what, exactly, he did know, but she refrained. That would make her vulnerable and reliant on him. She hadn’t been prepared for that possibility.
His job was to take her to Little Harbour. Period.
Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he didn’t want to take her to the Abacos. Because of her, his departure to Australia had been delayed another month. No time to train. No time to organize a crew. Maybe he was taunting her because he just did not want to be here. Whatever the reason, a conversation with so much volatility within the first hour was not a good way to begin a voyage.
She studied his profile. What was it about this man that made her want to keep him at arm’s length, preferably like an employee? She knew he had an excellent rapport with Poppa. But with her he was an arrogant, sexy, rogue pirate with a quick laugh, whose gaze alone promised a seduction that would fulfill a woman’s deepest fantasy. She was quite certain any woman would relish three weeks on a ship with this man in charge. So, why not her?
She knew the answer. This sail was for her sister and mother. It was to stop the nightmares. Unearth answers. It had nothing to do with her and Del Rio.
Although she trusted her own gut and Poppa’s faith in the man’s ability to get her safely to her destination, she distrusted Del Rio because she could remember nothing about him.
He had proved to be the perfect gentleman over the past year. Yet with one look from him, her insides fluttered with a vague sense of knowing him, or wanting to know him, intimately, and that terrified her. She felt as if she were walking a high-wire blindfolded. She did not want to take another step.
She stood, hoping her glare would silence him. “Nice of you to offer, but I am not hungry. I’m going below. Don’t worry about making dinner for me.”
FROM WHERE HE SAT, DANIEL could hear Maria’s cabin door slam, the tremor vibrating through the ship’s hull.
Yep. This was going to be one hell of a trip.
He needed to do some final soul-searching here before leaving Fort Lauderdale. He was a man who few, if any, people could tell what to do. So, he had to admit taking this trip was something he wanted. But really. Why?
His life before meeting Maria had been chaotic, thrilling, prestigious. He’d been on the cover of sailing magazines. Earned enough money to run a small country. Dated beautiful women from Buenos Aires, Santiago, Monaco. Yet, while his life had never been more full, it had never seemed so empty.
He had lost both parents in a Chilean political coup when he was a young boy and had been exiled from his home country. Elias and Rosalinda had rescued him. Daniel had discovered racing helped to heal his broken heart, and gave him a chance to fly with the wind when memories of the demons that destroyed his world returned to haunt him.