Twelve Nights Of Temptation

He moved away and braced a hand on a crossbeam above his head. “The storm’s letting up.”

“Good.” The word sounded final. Matt didn’t want it to be final.

He was her boss, sure. He understood that was a complication. But did it have to be a deal breaker? But he wanted to get to know her. He’d barely scratched the surface, and he liked her a lot.

* * *

They’d brought Orca’s Run back to the marina, arriving late in the evening.

Tasha had spent the night and half of today attempting to purge Matt’s kiss from her mind. It wasn’t working. She kept reliving the pleasure, then asking herself what it all meant.

She didn’t even know how she felt, never mind how Matt felt. He was a smooth-talking, great-looking man who, from everything she’d seen, could have any woman in the world. What could possibly be his interest in her?

Okay, maybe if she’d taken her mother’s advice, maybe if she’d acted like a woman, dressed like a woman and got a different job, maybe then it would make sense for Matt to be interested. Matt reminded her so much of the guys she’d known in Boston, the ones who’d dated her sisters and attended all the parties.

They’d all wanted women who were super feminine. They’d been amused by Tasha. She wasn’t a buddy and she wasn’t, in their minds, a woman worth pursuing. She hadn’t fit in anywhere. It was the reason she’d left. And now Matt was confusing her. She hated being confused.

So, right now, this afternoon, she had a new focus.

Since she’d been promoted, she had to replace herself. Matt employed several general dock laborers who also worked as mechanical assistants, and they pulled in mechanical specialists when necessary. But one staff mechanic couldn’t keep up with the workload at Whiskey Bay. Matt owned twenty-four boats in all, ranging from Monty’s Pride right down to a seventeen-foot runabout they used in the bay. Some were workboats, but most were pleasure craft available for rental.

Cash flow was a definite issue, especially after Matt’s divorce. It was more important than ever that the yachts stay in good working order to maximize rentals.

Tasha was using a vacant office in the main marina building at the edge of the company pier. The place was a sprawling, utilitarian building, first constructed in 1970, with major additions built in 2000 and 2010. Its clay-colored steel siding protected against the wind and salt water.

Inside, the client area was nicely decorated, as were Matt’s and the sales manager’s offices. But down the hall, where the offices connected to the utility areas and eventually to the boat garage and the small dry dock, the finishing was more Spartan. Even still, she felt pretentious sitting behind a wooden desk with a guest chair in front.

She’d been through four applicants so far. One and two were nonstarters. They were handymen rather than certified marine mechanics. The third one had his certification, but something about him made Tasha cautious. He was a little too eager to list his accomplishments. He was beyond self-confident, bordering on arrogant. She didn’t see him fitting in at Whiskey Bay.

The fourth applicant had been five minutes late. Not a promising start.

But then a woman appeared in the doorway. “My apologies,” she said in a rush as she entered.

Tasha stood. “Alex Dumont?”

“Yes.” The woman smiled broadly as she moved forward, holding out her hand.

Tasha shook it, laughing at herself for having made the assumption that Alex was a man.

“Alexandria,” the woman elaborated, her eyes sparkling with humor.

“Of all people, I shouldn’t make gender assumptions.”

“It happens so often, I don’t even think about it.”

“I hear you,” Tasha said. “Please, sit down.”

“At least with the name Tasha nobody makes that mistake.” Alex settled into the chair. “Though I have to imagine you’ve been written off a few times before they even met you.”

“I’m not sure which is worse,” Tasha said.

“I prefer the surprise value. That’s why I shortened my name. I have to say this is the first time I’ve been interviewed by a woman.”

Alex was tall, probably about five foot eight. She had wispy, wheat-blond hair, a few freckles and a pretty smile. If Tasha hadn’t seen her résumé, she would have guessed she was younger than twenty-five.

“You’re moving from Chicago?” Tasha asked, flipping through the three pages of Alex’s résumé.

“I’ve already moved, three weeks ago.”

“Any particular reason?” Tasha was hoping for someone who would stay in Whiskey Bay for the long term.

“I’ve always loved the West Coast. But mostly, it was time to make a break from the family.”

Tasha could relate to that. “They didn’t support your career choice?” she guessed.

“No.” Alex gave a little laugh. “Quite the opposite. My father and two brothers are mechanics. They wouldn’t leave me alone.”

“Did you work with them?”

“At first. Then I got a job with another company. It didn’t help. They still interrogated me every night and gave me advice on whatever repair I was undertaking.”

“You lived with them?”

“Not anymore.”

Tasha couldn’t help contrasting their experiences. “I grew up in Boston. My parents wanted me to find a nice doctor or lawyer and become a wife instead of a mechanic. Though they probably would have settled for me being a landscape painter or a dancer.”

“Any brothers and sisters?”

“Two sisters. Both married to lawyers.” Tasha didn’t like to dwell on her family. It had been a long time since she’d spoken to them. She stopped herself now, and went back to Alex’s résumé. “At Schneider Marine, you worked on both gas and diesel engines?”

“Yes. Gas, anywhere from 120-horse outboards and up, and diesel, up to 550.”

“Any experience on Broadmores?”

“Oh, yeah. Finicky buggers, those.”

“We have two of them.”

“Well, I’ve got their number.”

Tasha couldn’t help but smile. This was the kind of confidence she liked. “And you went to Riverside Tech?”

“I did. I finished my apprenticeship four years ago. I can get you a copy of my transcript if you need it.”

Tasha shook her head. “I’m more interested in your recent experience. How much time on gasoline engines versus diesel?”

“More diesel, maybe seventy-five/twenty-five. Lots of service, plenty of rebuilds.”