Smooth Sailing

“No excuses. Try it on.” Ahmaya sank her hands on her hips.

Reluctantly, Haley stripped off her scrubs and put on the dress. It hugged her curves and the hem fell halfway up her thigh. Hello, where’s the burlesque stage? Gypsy Rose Lee is in the house. She tugged at the bottom of the dress, trying to lengthen it. “It’s too short.”

“You’ve got dynamite legs. Why are you so scared to show them?”

“I’m not scared. Just not interested in looking like a hoochie mama.”

“You’re saying I’m a hoochie mama?”

“The dress isn’t snug on you and you’re two inches shorter than I am.”

“Celebrate your curves, Haley. I’m jealous.”

“It’s too tight in the boobs.”

“It’s perfect. That’s the way a sexy dress is supposed to fit.”

“I’ll need a strapless bra.”

Ahmaya’s eyes danced mischievously. “Go braless.”

“My nipples will show.”

“I have Nippies you can wear. No more excuses.”

“What are Nippies?”

“Gawd, do you live under a rock? They’re nipple covers.”

“I live on a hurricane-devastated island. My concerns run more toward basic human necessities than fashion.”

“You can say that again. Can you for once not be a Debbie Downer?”

That startled her. “Am I really a killjoy?”

“Yeah, kinda. Not everyone lives by your work-work-work credo, and you know, sometimes people need something fun to take their minds off the bad things that have happened. Jeb totally gets that.”

Her friend’s comment stopped Haley in her tracks. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard that she was too focused on hard work and doing things by the book. Did everyone think she was a hard-ass? Yes, she was very careful by nature and thorough in forming her opinions, and she had high principles. Why was that a bad thing? Why did she so often feel out of step with others her age?

“Haley, if you’re not perfect every minute of the day, the world won’t come to an end,” Ahmaya said, her voice softening. “Please just try to have fun tonight. Will you promise me that?”

She really did want to fit in. Wanted people to like her. “I’ll try, but the main reason I don’t want to go is that Jeb Whitcomb will be there.”

“Of course he’ll be there. It’s his party.”

“He’s just so cocky. He thinks that all women want to fall at his feet.”

“Most of them do.”

“Not me.”

“Do you really want to make him suffer?”

That intrigued her. “How would I do that?”

“Show up looking gorgeous. Let him see what he’ll never have. Rub it in.”

Hmm. She liked that. Little Miss Sadist. “Okay, I’ll do it.”

“Yay.” Ahmaya clapped. “Now, will you let me do your makeup?”

Haley started to resist—Ahmaya had a tendency to overdo makeup application—but she quickly thought better of it. She was determined to prove she could be a party animal just like everyone else, even if it killed her.

But most of all, she wanted to give Jeb Whitcomb a good-riddance send-off he wouldn’t forget.

2

Luff— The flapping motion of the sailcloth when a sail is undertrimmed

JEB WAS IN HIS ELEMENT. He loved throwing parties, loved crowds. Having people around amped him up, fed his energy.

It wasn’t even sunset and the party was already rocking. Wang Chung was urging “Everybody Have Fun Tonight” from the sound system. People were bobbing and weaving to the beat. The bartender he’d hired was imitating Tom Cruise moves from Cocktail. The yacht overflowed, people spilling out onto the gangplank and dock. The caterers dished up delectable canapés—prawn spring rolls, Thai chicken skewers, langoustine pastry puffs, smoked-salmon crisps, mini Yorkshire pudding with roast beef and horseradish, and mushrooms stuffed with lump crab meat. Japanese paper lanterns and flickering citronella candles provided intimate lighting. The air smelled salty and calm.

He stood smiling, dressed in a blue button-down silk shirt, chino slacks and deck shoes without socks, a tumbler of finely aged Scotch and water in his hand. Great turnout. Then again, the turnout for his parties was always great.

But one person was missing. The person he most wanted to see.

You really didn’t think she’d show, did you?

No, he hadn’t. Why did she snub him so vigorously? Why did he care so much to begin with? He was supposed to resist the allure of other women so he could win Jackie back. His ex-girlfriend would have to be impressed with all he’d accomplished on St. Michael’s. He’d proven he wasn’t a dilettante and that he was serious about helping others.

The hospital administrator came over to thank him again for his contributions. Jeb leaned in, pretended to listen intently, but his gaze kept straying to the dock, watching the arriving guests.

No Haley.

What was the big deal? He should be happy to have that contentious female out of his life for good. He would be on his way home to Florida tomorrow. He should be thinking about Jackie. She would be so surprised to see him.

Yes! Going home. He missed Miami and he was turning flips at the thought of seeing Jackie again and showing her how he’d changed, but he couldn’t help wishing he could have said goodbye to Haley. He would miss the way she challenged him at every turn. Not too many people did that to him.

Jackie did.

It had just been so long since he’d seen Jackie that he was imbuing Haley with his ex-girlfriend’s traits. That was all this was. That was all it could be, because he’d given up being a ladies’ man and he was damned proud of his restraint.

A year.

It had been a year since he’d been with a woman. His longest record since he’d lost his virginity at sixteen. See, Jackie, I have changed!

The governor and his wife joined Jeb’s conversation with the hospital administrator. Jeb winked at the wife, a dumpy woman in her mid-fifties wearing a colorful muumuu. “You’re looking beautiful tonight, Mrs. Freemont.”

She blushed like a girl and ducked her head. “You’re such an outrageous flirt.”

From eight to eighty, most women were so easy to charm. Look them straight in the eye, pay them a compliment and mean it. That was the essential part. You truly had to love women. Add a conspiratorial wink and they were putty.

All except for Jackie.

And Haley.

“You don’t have drinks,” Jeb said to the Freemonts. “Let me rectify that right now.” He motioned for one of the waiters roving through the crowd with trays of hors d’oeuvres to come over. He gave their order to the waiter, turned back to pick up the thread of the conversation when his attention was immediately snagged by a leggy honey-blonde sauntering up the gangplank.

She wore a skimpy little blue dress with tiny white flowers scattered over the material, and her breasts moved with such a pert bounce he had to assume she was not wearing a bra.

Instantly, his body lit up.

His gaze trailed from the blue four-inch stiletto sandals on her delicate little feet, up the length of those amazing calves and back to the nip of her narrow waist to the boldly unharnessed breasts, and finally, he glanced at her face.

His heart did a double take.

No way! This could not be Haley French looking like a supermodel with her perfectly arched eyebrows and glossy pink lips.

His eyes bugged out and his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. He knew she was pretty, yes indeed, but he had absolutely no idea she could look like this. Stunning.

“Excuse me,” he said smoothly to the Freemonts and the hospital administrator, then set down his drink and made a beeline straight for Haley.

Her eyes widened and she reached for the elbow of the dark-haired girl beside her. She said something short and succinct to her friend, shook her head, spun on her heel and hurried back down the gangplank.

“Wait!” Jeb called, pushing through the crowd.

But Haley didn’t even glance around. Her friend stood on the gangplank looking bewildered.

“Jeb, hey, I’ve been wanting to speak to you,” someone said.

“Great party.” A beautiful woman clutched at his arm.

A man clapped him on the shoulder. “We’re going to miss you on St. Michael’s.”

“Excuse me, excuse me.” Jeb shook off the people. Why was he so desperate to prevent her from leaving?

He blew past Haley’s friend, reached the end of the gangplank. Haley was a good twenty feet ahead of him. She was already off the dock and climbing the stairs to the marina parking lot.

“Haley!”

She didn’t turn around.

He was running now. Definitely uncool. Ruining your image, dude. Stop it.

Jeb reached the bottom of the stairs just as Haley crested them. “Baby, don’t go.”

She stopped in midstep and spun around to glower at him. One sexy gam perched on the landing, the other on the step below. “Excuse me?”

“Baby, please don’t go.”

“Baby? Did you just call me baby?”

He shrugged, chagrined. “Sorry. Figure of speech.”

“Do I look like an infant to you?”

“No, ma’am. Not in any way, shape or form.”

Slowly, she came back down the steps toward him, her eyes blazing fire. His pulse hammered hotly through his veins. “The word baby is also often used as a term of endearment between lovers,” she said.

“Uh-huh.” He nodded.

“Are we lovers?”

“Unfortunately, no.” What was he doing? Jackie was the one for him. He was trying not to seduce other women, and for a whole year, he’d been a very good boy. He should just tell Haley goodbye and go back to the party.

“I am not an infant and we are not lovers, correct?”

“Correct.”

“Then under no circumstances are you to call me baby. Got it?”

He gave a jaunty salute. “Got it. No baby. Not now, not ever. The word is stricken from my vocabulary.”

“Good. Even among lovers I find the word off-putting. Infantilizing each other isn’t the way to build a mature, loving bond.”

“You have strong opinions about it.”

“I do.”

“You really don’t like me all that much, do you?”

“Not especially.”

“Why did you come tonight?”

“My friend Ahmaya needed a wing woman and a ride. She doesn’t have a car.”

“You were just going to go off and leave her?”

For one second, she looked shamefaced, but quickly recovered. “Ahmaya’s a big girl. She can take care of herself.”

“And yet, you came with her.” Jeb raked his gaze over Haley. “Looking like that, I might add.”

A pink blush crept up her neck. “It’s Ahmaya’s dress.”

“You’re stunning.”

“Oh, I feel so special,” she said snidely. “I bet you said that to only a couple dozen women today.”

“More like a baker’s dozen,” he teased.

Her shoulders relaxed a little at that and a tiny smile briefly lit her lips. Small victory. With Haley, he’d take his triumphs where he could get them.

“Are you still planning on running away?”

“I’m not running away.”

“Seems to me you are.”

“I can’t run in these shoes. I was walking away or, more accurately, hobbling away.”

“Why?”

“I don’t like parties.”

“Why not?”

“They’re too crowded. I don’t like crowds.”

“Uh, you forget I saw you in action in those relief camps right after Hurricane Sylvia. The tents were packed tighter than sardine cans and you were right in the middle of it.”

“That was different. I was helping people.”

“C’mon back to the party,” he coaxed. “I’ll let you give the Heimlich maneuver if anyone chokes on a canapé.”

There was that brief smile again.

His heart gave a strange bunny hop. He held out a hand. “C’mon.”

They stood there a moment; Haley posed on the top steps, Jeb at the bottom, groveling, palm outstretched.

“Don’t leave me hanging, ba—” He almost said baby but stopped in the nick of time.

“Why should I come back to your party?”

“For one thing, you’re a good friend. Ahmaya needs you.”

“Low blow.”

“I’ll use any tool in the arsenal.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do you care so much if I’m at your party or not?”

It was a very good question. He didn’t have a glib answer handy and ended up just blurting out the truth. “I’ve got enough yes-men and yes-women around me. I need someone who knows how to luff a sail.”

“A what?”

“There are no brakes on a sailboat. The only way to slow down is to luff the sail. That means to under-trim the sail so it doesn’t catch any wind.”

“In other words, I’m a brake, huh?”

“Well, you know you are a stickler for rules, etiquette, proper behavior and all that.” He waved a hand.

“A wet blanket.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“A Debbie Downer.”

“I didn’t say that, either.”

“Why would you want a brake at your party? Parties are supposed to be go, go, go. No-holds-barred. Looks like you’d want an accelerator, not a brake.”

“Don’t be offended by the brake comment. A brake is a good thing,” he said. “A brake is very necessary. A brake keeps you safe.”

“Like a mother?”

He shoved fingers through his hair. “This isn’t going well, is it?”

“Not in the least.” She folded her arms over her chest, but the smile was back and stayed a fraction of a second longer this time.

“Come luff my sails, Haley.”

She hesitated. Ha! He had her.

“You’re already dressed to impress. Why waste it?” he cajoled.

“I don’t know why I’m even considering this.”

“’Cause part of you doesn’t really want to spend tonight all alone washing your hair.”

“I don’t mind being by myself.”

Man, she was a hard nut to crack. “Okay,” he said. “But you don’t know what you’re missing.” Taking a calculated risk, he turned to go.

“Wait.”

He grinned, stopped, but did not turn back around. “Yes?”

“I am pretty hungry. I’ll stay for a bite to eat.” The sound of her mincing down the metal stairs in her stilettos rang out into the twilight.

He bent his arm at the elbow, signaling for her to take it. To his surprise, she did.

“Only because I’m wearing high heels,” she said, reading his mind as she slipped her arm through his.

Her touch ignited a firestorm inside him. Jeb gulped. Good thing he was sailing out tomorrow—one more day around Haley and there was no telling what might happen.

HALEY HAD NO IDEA WHY she’d allowed smooth-talking Jeb Whitcomb to coax her into coming back to his party.

Partially, it was true that she was hungry and hated to cook for just herself, plus, there was her promise to Ahmaya, but there was another part of her that she didn’t really want to poke. The part that liked being around Jeb.

The minute they reached the deck of his sailing yacht, Haley let go of his arm. She was disturbed to find herself breathless.

“What would you like to drink?” Jeb asked.

“You don’t have to get my drink.”

“It’s no problem.” He lifted a finger at a white-gloved waiter waiting at the ready.

Haley supposed a lot of women fell for the master-and-commander routine. Your every wish was his command. Seductive, for sure, but she mistrusted anything that wasn’t hard-won.

The waiter appeared at his side.

“Could you please bring Miss French a…” Jeb looked at her expectantly.

“Diet cola.”

“Seriously?”

“I don’t drink.”

“Not ever?”

“Rarely. New Year’s Eve. Wedding toasts. That kind of thing.”

“This is my going-away party.”

“So?”

“You’re not going to toast my journey?”

“I can toast with diet cola.”

He got a knowing look on his face. “Aha.”

“What?”

He shrugged. “Nothing.”

“The ‘aha’ meant something.”

“It’s not important.”

“Then why did you say it?”

The corner of his mouth tipped up. “I’ve figured out something about you.”

She pulled her lips downward. “And what is that?”

“You’re afraid of losing control.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I never said anything was wrong with it. Just had a lightbulb moment.”

“I like to keep my wits about me.”

“Make an exception,” he said.

“You want me witless?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

“To prove you can let your hair down.”

“I don’t have to prove a thing to you.”

He leaned closer. “No, but wouldn’t it be fun to stop thinking so much for once and simply let go?”

“Five minutes ago you were telling me you needed someone who knew how to luff a sail.”

“If the sailcloth stayed luffed, you’d never set sail.”

“Nothing wrong with dry land.”

“You’re not a sailor?”

“Landlubber all the way. That’s me.” She groaned.

The waiter cleared his throat.

“You’re holding up the poor man,” Jeb said. “What’ll you have? And no diet coke unless it has rum in it.”

She thought about sticking to her guns, but it was easier just to give in, and at some point, you couldn’t fight everything, right? Pick your battles, Haley. Everything is not worthy of a crusade. She recited her mother’s frequent advice. “White wine, something with a low alcohol content and sweet.”

“Uh,” he said sounding mildly amused. “I had you pegged for something tart, like a salty dog.”

“What’s a salty dog?”

“Grapefruit juice and vodka with a salted rim.”

“When it comes to alcohol, the sweeter the better.” She crinkled her nose. “I don’t like the taste.”

“Bring her a glass of Luccio Moscato d’Asti,” he told the waiter.

The waiter actually bowed, clicked his patent leather heels and departed for the open bar.

“What’s Moscato whatever?”

“Light, white dessert wine, five percent alcohol. Couldn’t get a kitten drunk on it. You’ll love the stuff.”

“Sounds perfect.” She spied Ahmaya in the center of a clot of men—so much for hope of rescue on that score.

“Come.” Jeb took her by the elbow and escorted her toward the buffet.

She wanted to resist out of general principle—he was far too proprietary—but the deck was crowded, and in these ridiculous stilettos, it was nice to have him threading the needle to the food. But what disconcerted her most was the feel of his skin against hers. Just like she’d enjoyed that kiss he’d given her on the beach several months back. Which, if she were being honest, was at the heart of why she wanted to avoid him.

He handed her a plate and the waiter brought her drink. Solicitously, Jeb held the wineglass for her while she filled her plate. The gentlemanly shtick was all part of his seduction ritual, no doubt. Don’t fall for his courteous manners. It’s a trap.

“You’re not going to have anything to eat?” she asked him.

“When I eat, I’m not giving my guests my full attention.”

“Well, feel free to mingle.” She waved him off. “Don’t let me hold you back.”

“Ah, but you’re one of my guests. I want to make sure all your needs are met.”

Her stomach grumbled, so she loaded up on food while he waited, and then he guided her down three steps to bench seating on the lower deck. Two people were sitting there, but he went over and whispered something to them and they got up. He turned to smile and waved triumphantly at the vacated seats.

“You ran them off?”

“I politely asked if they’d mind giving up their seats for a lady whose feet were hurting.”

“Hey, I can eat just fine standing up.”

Jeb sat and patted the spot next to him. “Please, have a seat, Haley.”

The way he said her name, as if it were the most elegant sound on earth, sent tingles zipping through her. Reluctantly, she sat and perched her plate on her knees, which she kept firmly pressed together in the too-short dress. Instead of meeting his gaze, she concentrated on pulling a morsel of chicken off a wooden skewer.

“I’m glad you came tonight.”

“That makes one of us.”

“You love busting my chops.”

She grinned. She did.

“How’s the wine?”

“Haven’t tasted it yet.” She took a sip. Ooh, it went down sweet and smooth. “I like it. Reminds me of Kool-Aid.”

“Wow, something you approve of. Duly noted.”

“No need to note it. This is the last time we’ll ever see each other.”

“You sound happy about that.”

Not happy. Relieved. And grateful that she’d managed to avoid his charms and stay out of his bed, although she’d had a near miss.

He reached out to touch her hand. “I’m going to miss you, Haley. I’ve never met anyone quite like you.”

She slipped her arm away. “Great puff pastries. Kudos to the caterers.”

“I’ll pass along your compliments to the chef.”

An awkward silence passed between them.

“You’re one of the hardest workers I’ve ever had the pleasure to know,” he said.

“Thank you.” What was he getting at?

“And I admire how straightforward you are. No beating around the bush.”

“Speaking of that.” She dusted off her fingers with a napkin. “Let me just set you straight. There’s no way I’m spending the night with you. Not if it were my last night on earth.”

“Whew.” Laughing, he leaned back in his seat and wiped a palm over his forehead in mock relief.

Whew? Haley scowled.

“Because the last thing in the world I ever want to do is have sex with you,” he said.

She stared at him, stunned, her jaw unhinged. He did not want to have sex with her? “Excuse me?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It’s not because you’re not desirable, because you most certainly are in a tough-girl, nothing-touches-me-emotionally kind of way.”

“Then what the hell is this full-court press about? Begging me to come to your party, getting me food and wine, touching me like you mean business.”

He held up a palm. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight—you want me to want you, but you’re not about to sleep with me?”

Haley pursed her lips guiltily. Yeah, well, sorta. “I want to be the one woman who won’t fall at your feet.”

His grin turned wolfish. “You almost did.”

“But I didn’t.”

“Only because I called it off.”

“I would have called it off. You just beat me to it.”

“We’ll never know, will we?”

She put her plate aside. She really wanted more of those crab-stuffed mushrooms, but she did not want to sit here with Jeb Whitcomb any longer. “You are driving me bonkers.”

“Right back atcha, baby.”

“Don’t call me baby!” How was it that this man could ruffle her so easily? She hated that.

“Why not? You’re acting like one. I was trying to pay you a compliment and you got all twisted off for no reason. You have a tendency to do that.”

“Yeah? Well, you have a tendency to believe you’re God’s gift to women. News flash, you’re nothing but a rich frat boy swooping in with your money to make yourself feel good.”

“What’s wrong with that? I feel good, people get the help they need.”

“Because you sail away to your fancy life, leaving people longing for you.”

His smile turned knowing and he lowered his voice. “Are you longing for me, Haley?”

“Yes, longing for you to be gone.” Wine in hand, she flounced away.

3

Safety harness— Personal gear that attaches to a tether to keep the person on board

JEB TOOK A LONG PULL off his Scotch and water; the synapses in his brain were alight with lusty and inappropriate impulses. He’d pissed her off.

Oh, she was gorgeous when she was mad and she had the world’s cutest scowl, hands down. He followed her up the steps, back to the bridge. She circled the boat.

He licked his lips.

She ended up talking to one of her coworkers starboard, but every now and then, she’d dart a glance in his direction. When their eyes met, she’d quickly glance away. Can’t handle the heat, huh, angel?