Lori Wilde - Smooth Sailing

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.”