Riding the Storm

She didn’t recognize him. Could never have met him before this moment or she would have remembered. His chiseled jaw was covered with a shadow of late-night bristles. Full, sculpted lips; a straight Roman nose. Eyes an uncommon color, though it was too dark to tell the shade for sure. Green, maybe? Dark eyelashes framed them and heavy eyebrows topped them. An old scar ran across his forehead.

Details that were way too real for a dream.

“What are you doing here?” She straightened quickly, making herself dizzy. A spike of adrenaline pierced the sensual awareness that had held her captive a moment ago. “Where am I?”

Her pulse raced as she tried to absorb her surroundings. The stranger with her. Just because he was absurdly handsome didn’t exclude the possibility that he meant her harm.

“You’re on my brother’s boat. The Vesta.” He spoke slowly and calmly, his tone soothing her where it had once stoked a fire inside her. “You must have boarded it last night when it was still docked in Chatham.”

“Chatham?” Her heart rate slowed a little at his reasonable tone of voice. His presence wasn’t threatening even though he sat close beside her inside… “A boat?”

Realization hit her like a cartoon anvil to the head.

“The boat!” she exclaimed, remembering her trip to Chatham. She latched on to the swatch book on the table in front of her. “I boarded the boat to discuss some new designs for my cousin Chase…” The horror of the moment began to dawn on her. “Oh, God. You’re not Chase Freeman.”

“No.” The sexy stranger shook his head as he took a document out of his wallet and passed it to her. “I’m Keith Murphy, and my boat was docked beside his.” The document proved to be his driver’s license, which confirmed his claim and his residence in Chatham. “Maybe you wandered onto the wrong vessel?”

She’d completely missed her appointment with Chase the night before.

“Oh no.” Her stomach sank as full alertness returned. She remembered being exhausted and worried about getting seasick. “The numbering on the slips was so confusing. I thought this was the right boat because the lights were on. Then I took some motion sickness medicine and it must have knocked me out. What time is it?”

Maybe she could still meet Chase. Rising to her feet, she tried to pull herself together until the man—Keith—gently grasped her wrist.

“It’s four in the morning and we’re not in Chatham anymore. I didn’t know you were on board and I set sail about one o’clock.”

She found it tough to focus on his words when he squeezed, then released her. How could a total stranger’s touch feel so familiar? So incredibly good?

Snippets of her sexy dream returned to her and she wondered…

“Did anything else happen while I was sleeping?” Sinking back onto the seat beside him, she tried to process the situation. Her skin buzzed with a palpable, electric hum. “That is, did we…”

She had no idea where she was going with that question. But her nerve endings vibrated with keen awareness. He had said things to her, sexy things, hadn’t he? Her heartbeat quickened at the blur of steamy memories.

Mr. Fantasy smiled a thousand-watt grin that was sexy and shameless. “You were out of it when I got down here, but you didn’t talk in your sleep or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Not really. I…” How could she explain that she felt as turned on as if he’d touched her? That she was kind of worried she’d thrown herself at him in her half-dreaming state?

She smoothed a hand over her hair, trying to restore some order and some self control. This wasn’t like her at all.

“Look, Miss…” He seemed to be waiting for her to fill in the blank.

“Oh. Josie Passano.” She extended her hand. “I apologize for boarding the wrong boat. If we could just turn around, I could try to salvage my meeting. I really needed that account.”

“Josie.” He tested the name and seemed to like it, if his slow nod was any indication. “Can I get you something to drink first?”

Rising, he flicked on a low light over the galley cook-top, making her realize they’d been sitting in the green glow of a night-light all that time. Good heavens, she was out of it. The medicine must have done a number on her.

“That would be great. Cold water, if you have any.”

As he moved toward the small icebox, she noticed his shirttails were untucked and his feet were bare. He’d rolled up his trousers like a man who’d just waded in the ocean. She liked that he’d kept some distance as she woke up, his smooth, deep voice and relaxed body language all putting her at ease when she had every right to be scared to death to find herself on a stranger’s boat in the middle of the night.

He turned and caught her staring.

“Here you go.” Offering her a clear plastic cup, he filled a second for himself and sat across from her at the small table. “Josie, I doubt that Chase Freeman made it back to his boat last night, so I wouldn’t worry about him remembering a missed appointment until afternoon at the earliest. I saw him on the dance floor at my brother’s engagement party and he looked like he’d had a few too many. I’d be willing to bet he either crashed at my parents’ place or at a, uh, friend’s house.”

She read between the lines that her cousin had been trying to hook up with someone. Not that she cared about his personal life other than how it affected their business relationship. What threw her for a loop was connecting the dots that this man—Mr. Fantasy—was a Murphy. He’d said it, but she hadn’t fully appreciated the import.

She hoped he didn’t know her train wreck of a family. Thankfully, her name change had given her the anonymity she craved.

“Robert Murphy is your father?” She straightened in her seat, wishing she hadn’t shown up on the wrong boat like some sex-starved Goldilocks, all hot and bothered for her host.

She must look completely unprofessional, darn it. Didn’t she always tell Marlena you never knew where you might meet your next client? If she were on her game, she might be able to talk her way into a meeting with a representative of Murphy Resorts. But that wasn’t going to happen if she kept drooling over Keith.

And his well-connected family was all the more reason not to get involved. She had no desire to land back in Boston’s society columns, having her private life dissected. For that matter, after how kind he’d been to her, she wouldn’t want to foist bad press on Keith, either.

“Yes. He and my mom hosted a big party for my brother and his fiancée last night. That’s why the marina was so crowded. A lot of the guests came by boat.” He sipped his water, watching her over the rim of his cup. “You said you took motion-sickness medicine. How are you doing now that it’s worn off?”

“Me?” She hadn’t given it a second thought, but she’d been so fuzzy headed since waking up, her gray matter wasn’t working at full speed. “Fine, I think. I might have been hasty with the Dramamine. I got seasick on a boat ride to Catalina when I was young, but my mom told me afterward I’d had an ear infection or something.” She spoke quickly, nervous now that she realized her host was from one of Boston’s top entrepreneurial families. “I took the medicine to be safe, but I think I’d rather brave out the time on your boat and see how it goes, rather than fall asleep again. I can’t believe I slept through you coming on board and setting sail. You said we’re not in Chatham anymore?”

“We’re close to Nantucket.” He pointed toward a forgotten swatch sample catalog under her elbow. “May I?”

His hand hovered deliciously close to her arm. For a moment, she thought he was asking for permission to touch her. Warmth swirled in her veins even as she realized he wanted to see her book.

“Of course!” She slid the heavy volume across the table, wondering if he meant to keep her off balance with this conversation. “Nantucket?”

How on earth would she get home? She’d have to take a plane or a ferry. She’d lose a whole day’s work because she’d stepped onto the wrong boat last night. Then again, was Keith Murphy interested in redecorating? Maybe she could salvage a job, at least.

“Yes.” He opened the book as smoothly as if he was in a boardroom on a business lunch and not chatting up a stowaway on his sailboat at four in the morning. “I’m taking the Vesta down to Charleston to sell it for my brother Jack.”

Josie tried to absorb that. Apparently, when you were a Murphy, you did things like that—sail boats around to sell them because you were so rich you could probably buy five more you liked better. She pictured her parents giving their wholehearted approval to Keith.

Not that she was thinking about dating him or anything. That would be a disaster waiting to happen, given his high-profile family. Besides, her parents’ stamp of approval was a dubious endorsement at best. She respected people who worked for their income.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you up or anything, but I should find my way back to the mainland before you head any farther south.” Even though this evening had been interesting, to say the least. Even though she still had the sense that something had happened between her and Keith before she awoke. Why else had she felt so turned on and twitchy when she opened her eyes?

“Of course.” He fingered a square of handmade Thai silk in her swatch book. “But would you mind waiting until daylight? I already furled the sails for the night and we’re far enough away from the mainland that it would take too long to motor in. After sailing single-handed for three hours and doing the family party before that, I’ve gotta say I’m beat.”

“Oh.” How awkward. “I’m sure you are tired. I can just…wait until you’re ready.”

She had a vision of herself watching him sleep, quickly followed by an even more rewarding vision of her tiring him out thoroughly so he could sleep even better. Mmm.

“But I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable. We can radio in to the Coast Guard if it would make you more at ease about being out here with me.” He closed the book and met her gaze over the tabletop.

Green, she thought idly. His eyes were an unusual shade of golden-green. As she stared back at him, half-hypnotized by the leftover effects of her medicine and the vague memories of her dreams about him talking to her in her sleep, she felt heat crawl over her skin again. Warming her everywhere. Making her all too aware of Keith Murphy.

And keenly aware of how long it had been since she’d been with a man. Maybe if you suppressed your sex drive long enough, it took vengeance on you by going rogue at the sight of a hot guy. That would explain her fear that she’d launch herself onto him at any moment.

“That’s thoughtful of you, and I would appreciate it.” She focused on her words instead of her feelings, needing to maintain professional distance. “I was nervous about meeting a client on a strange boat at midnight anyhow, so I left messages with a few friends. They’ll be worried about me, since I never checked in again.”