Lori Wilde – Smooth Sailing (страница 1)
She did not want this—but she hungered for it…
Jeb’s mouth was on hers, delicious as salted caramel. Haley knew that this was an experience she would never forget: the sound of the billowy sails flapping in the Atlantic breeze; the July sun beaming down bright and hot, shining a million tiny fractured lanterns over the choppy caps of blue water; the smell of briny ocean spray; this handsome man, hard with muscles and a gorgeous smile, kissing a practical woman who’d forgotten what it was like to have fun.
She should break off the kiss. She knew it.
But she did none of those things.
Instead, she twined her arms around his neck and pulled him down on top of her.
Haley couldn’t think straight. Acting like this was so unlike her. She felt as if she were channeling some spritely mermaid turning the tables on a handsome fisherman by catching him in her net. Oddly thrilling, that image.
Dear Reader,
One of the fun things about being a writer is the research. On the surface, research might sound boring. Dry and dusty. Hours spent poring over books. Except, that’s not the kind of research I’m talking about. For
I learned boating safety, the difference between the sails, the names of all the ropes, the way to properly launch a sailboat, how to trim the sail, how to throw a line, tie up the boat, how to recover from a capsize and how not to panic if you fall overboard. What I took away from this experience is that sailing is really complicated and I have a whole new respect for the sport and the people who sail.
What I hope is that my dedication to research paid off and you’ll be able to experience sailing right along with the hero and heroine of
Happy reading,
About the Author
LORI WILDE is a
Smooth Sailing
Lori Wilde
To my students, past, present and future.
Helping you has made me a better writer.
Thank you.
Forward—
A PEACOCK COULDN’T have strutted more gloriously than Jeb Whitcomb taking the outdoor makeshift stage. A self-satisfied grin graced his tanned handsome face, his blue eyes crinkled seductively at the corners as he joined the governor at the podium. The sleeves of his white work shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing powerful forearms dotted with hair a shade darker than the milk-chocolate locks swept rakishly off his forehead.
“In appreciation of your hard work, dedication and monetary contribution to rebuilding the island of St. Michael’s, we are bestowing you with the first Jeb Whitcomb humanitarian award,” Governor Freemont announced and passed the gilded trophy to Whitcomb.
From the audience, Haley French, R.N., rolled her eyes. Whitcomb might have everyone else on the island snowed, but Haley saw through the charming smile and sexy swagger. He hadn’t really come here to help the residents of St. Michael’s; his visit had all been about plumping up his ego. Whenever there was a camera about, Whitcomb was in front of it.
Cameras flashed. Reporters tossed questions. The crowd applauded.
Haley’s best friend, Ahmaya Reddy, poked her in the ribs with her elbow. “Don’t be rude. Clap.”
Halfheartedly, Haley joined in the applause, but she frowned. “He’s grandstanding.”
Whitcomb launched into what was clearly an off-the-cuff speech.
“He’s a bona fide hero,” Ahmaya argued. “St. Michael’s couldn’t have recovered as quickly without him.”
“He’s self-centered.”
“Oh, yes, self-centered people give up a year of their life to rebuild islands they have no connection to.”
“That’s precisely my point. He has no connection to St. Michael’s. Who anointed him our savior? I question his motives. Ever notice how he always has hangers-on following him?”
Ahmaya shrugged. “He’s handsome, rich and fun to be around. Who wouldn’t want to hang on?”
“Rebuilding an entire island wiped out by a hurricane shouldn’t be fun.”
“You’d think not, but somehow he managed to get everyone to pull together. That’s why he’s getting the attention, not to mention the award. His ability to get people to work in harmony.”
“He’s just doing it for the attention. It strokes his ego.”
“So what if he is?” Ahmaya asked. Okay, Haley was being a bit harsh, which was not like her, but Whitcomb seemed to bring out the worst in her. “The results are the same. People have homes again and essential services have been restored because of Jeb’s generosity.”
“He’s impulsive.”
“Oh.” A sly smile crossed Ahmaya’s face. “I get it.”
“Get what?”
“The reason why he rubs you the wrong way.”
Haley crossed her arms over her chest, canted her head. “Care to enlighten me?”
“He doesn’t live up to your expectations.”
“I have no expectations of him.”
“No?”
“He’s nothing to me.”
“I thought you two—”
“We certainly did not.” Haley bristled.
“But almost.”
Haley’s cheeks heated. Yes, she’d almost had sex with Jeb Whitcomb several months back when they’d both served on the hospital rebuilding committee. Thankfully, she had not gone through with it.
“Wait a minute.” Ahmaya snapped her fingers. “It’s not Jeb who didn’t live up to your expectations. It was you. You’re mad at him because you violated your own code of ethics when you—”
“Let’s stop talking about him, okay?” To get Ahmaya to shut up, she purposefully fixed her attention on the stage.
Jeb had a microphone in his hand. He paced the length of the stage, whipping up the audience with his passionate vision of what St. Michael’s could become. Haley knew how dangerous his passion was. He’d had her under his spell, however briefly. He paused in midstride, peered out at the audience and his gaze landed on her.
For one heart-stopping second, their eyes locked and Haley’s throat tightened. Darn it, she could not glance away.
Jeb held her pinned to the spot, his eyelids lowered slightly, and his voice took on a seductive quality. Or maybe she had merely imagined it. “Since this is my last day on St. Michael’s, I’m having a party on my yacht and everyone is invited,” he announced.
A cheer went up from the assembly.
He tossed the microphone to the governor and stalked offstage with a jaunty spring to his step, his entourage of sycophants trailing after him. The crowd gathered around, patting him on the back, trying to shake his hand, but he seemed a man on a mission.
It took Haley a few seconds to realize he was headed toward her. Oh, hell, no.
She spun on her heel. Should be easy enough to disappear in this throng. She rushed forward. Her toe caught on a power cord snaking across the ground and she tripped.
From behind her came a familiar chuckle. He was already upon her. Before she could scramble up, Jeb’s hand went around her waist, his citrusy scent enveloping her as he helped her gently to her feet.
“Easy there, baby,” he crooned, bending down to dust the dirt from the knees of her scrubs.
She wrenched away from him, stepped back, breathless and despising herself for it.