Breathless Encounter

She did notice, though, when Aiden gestured the steward aside and pulled out her chair for her himself. She glanced up at him in thanks and her breath caught at the way he was looking at her. As if she was the main course for dinner. Her stomach tumbled and she suddenly felt a little lightheaded. She was grateful to sink into her seat while she regained her bearings. Talk about a lady killer! The man was dangerous. He could knock her off her feet with a single glance. And she dared not even think about what his arms felt like around her.

As course after course of incredible continental cuisine came forth from the kitchen, she surreptitiously studied her companion. Aiden carried himself like a man used to wealth. Power. Having people do what he said. She didn’t care what he said. The man was definitely rich, or at least very powerful.

Not that she’d ever measured people by the thickness of their wallets. It was just interesting that he’d gone to such lengths to make sure she knew he didn’t own the Sea Nymph. If he was trying to lessen her intimidation factor at his suave sophistication, it didn’t work. It felt as if she was having supper with a movie star. He was perfectly polite, but there was a certain cool distance to him that was completely impenetrable. Of course, it was entirely her fault it was there, so it wasn’t as if she could hold his reserve against him. But it still got to her. Furthermore, it goaded her to try to break through it and find the warm, engaging man she’d glimpsed when she first met him.

“What’s your story?” she finally asked him.

“The men in my family all served a stint in the navy. My father was stationed at Pearl Harbor. I spent my youth in Hawaii. A rough gig, I know. But someone had to do it. When my father retired, my family moved back east. But I stayed in California to go to college at Stanford. I played hard, but I managed to get a degree in nanoengineering. That means I design and build tiny little robots. During my obligatory tour in the navy, I partied my way through every major port in the Pacific theater. Then Jeff Winston offered me a job in his grandfather’s company. And here I am.”

She considered the detachment with which he’d recited his life story. Beneath the lightness of the rendition, it all sounded very snooty and blue-blooded. No mention of friends, lovers, emotional connections to his family. Nor did he strike her as the party animal he’d described himself to be. She cast about for a neutral question. “How did you become a spectacular swimmer?”

Odd. He looked away evasively, but he did answer. “I’ve always lived near water. I suppose it came naturally. What about you? What’s your story?”

Trying to distract her. Weird. She supposed she owed him an answer, though, since he’d told her about himself. But she didn’t usually like to talk about her past.

She answered reluctantly. “My parents were environmental activists. And yes, they were raging hippies. We even lived in San Francisco when we weren’t be-bopping all over the world. I have a little sister, Chloe. She’s the ultimate anti-hippie, however. Don’t get me wrong. She’s awesome. But we have absolutely nothing in common. Most people who meet us don’t even think we’re related. At any rate, my family went to wherever the next big environmental crisis was brewing and tried to stir up public concern about it.”

“Where are your parents now?”

“Dead.” She was able to say it without opening the door to all the old grief and loss and anger, but she desperately hoped he’d get the hint and leave the subject alone.

He didn’t. “How?” At least he seemed to have sensed that he’d touched a nerve and was keeping this conversation brief and to the point.

“They went down at sea. No one knows how.”

“Where?”

“Not far from here, in fact. A couple hundred kilometers south of our current position.” She’d finally worked up the nerve to sail through the area a few days ago. It had been eerie, knowing she was following the last known coordinates her parents had reported before they disappeared.

For all she knew, she’d sailed right over their watery graves. She hoped she had, at any rate. She’d waited nearly a decade to say a proper goodbye to them. Although, she wasn’t at all sure that downing most of a bottle of cheap wine and going on a drunk crying jag had been much of a farewell. Yet another screwup in her life to live with.

She noticed that Aiden was staring at her. “What?”

“No wonder you freaked out at nearly drowning. It had to bring back thoughts of how your parents must have died. I’m sorry.”

Thank God she hadn’t thought about it when she’d been fighting for her own life against the sea. It would have done her in. Even now, thinking that was how her parents had spent their final moments was enough to choke her up. She laid down her fork with excessive care and stared unseeing at the china pattern wavering beyond her tears.

Hands reached down for her. Pulled her to her feet. A warm chest materialized against her cheek and awkward arms surrounded her.

A chagrined voice murmured in her hair, “I’ve gone and done it again, haven’t I? I’ve upset you.” A sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Why so many tears came, she had no idea. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t shed plenty over the years for her parents. They’d died ten years ago, for crying out loud. And yet, the wound felt as raw and unbearable as ever. Maybe it was being out here so close to where they’d died that brought out the old feelings of loss and abandonment.

She cried hard enough on Aiden’s chest that her borrowed mascara had no doubt ruined his shirt. She must look as bedraggled as a wet dog. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never cry this much.”

“You had a pretty bad scare.”

“But I’m not normally a wimp.”

“I already gathered that. Any woman who’d come out here alone and take on big international fishing companies has too much courage for her own good.”

She swiped at her face. “I must look like a bad clown.”

He handed her a discreetly monogrammed handkerchief. “I think I like you better without makeup.”

She smiled gratefully. “You’re a gentleman for saying so, but it’s not necessary with me.”

“Why not? Don’t you deserve to be treated with respect? Like a lady?”

That made her laugh. “A lady? Me?” She was a hippie environmentalist wannabe following somewhat pathetically and entirely unsuccessfully in her family’s footsteps.

He looked her up and down in a way that stole her breath away. “Yes, you, a lady.”

“Brain’s a little waterlogged from all that swimming, huh?”

One corner of his mouth twitched up wryly. “I’ve been told that before.”

“By whom?”

“Gemma says so frequently.”

“Why is she out here helping you guys nab pirates? She doesn’t strike me as the type.”

“She’s a scientist,” Aiden answered cryptically.

She got the distinct feeling he didn’t want to say any more on the subject. “What’s she studying?” Sunny persisted.

“Aquatic stuff.”

Wow. That was descriptive. Was there some big secret around the doctor’s research? Maybe he was worried she’d film Gemma’s work or something. She was trying to figure out a delicate way to ask him if that was his concern when a male voice intruded sharply over a loudspeaker.

“Incoming pirate vessel. All hands on deck. Prepare for combat.”

Chapter 3

Sunny started as the man across from her transformed from an urbane, sophisticated host who wore this yacht with the same ease he wore his suit into … she wasn’t quite sure what. His face went hard, his eyes glittering with violent satisfaction.

“Go to your cabin,” he ordered her tersely. “Lock yourself in and don’t come out until Steig or I come for you.”

“What’s going on?” she demanded.

He shoved away from the table, already unbuttoning his shirt. What the heck? He ripped the fabric off shoulders that made her gulp as he kicked off his shoes and reached for his fly. Was he going to strip in front of her? Here? Now? Confused, she sat unmoving and stared at him. He peeled down his trousers, revealing powerful thighs. Thankfully, he was wearing some sort of compression briefs like a biker might wear.

“What are you waiting for?” he bit out. “Get out of here!”

“Where are you going?”

He reached into the pocket of his discarded pants and came up with, of all things, a pair of goggles like swimmers would wear. “I’m going fishing.” He moved across the room to a desk and opened a drawer. He pulled out a round disk about the size and shape of a smoke detector and stuck it inside the waistband of his shorts. Its circular outline poked out on his hip.