Making a Splash

They might not have personalities that meshed for the long term. But they sure as hell had chemistry that would light things up in the here and now.

Damn it, they needed to find out what was between them once and for all.

“No. Admit it was for me. You were dreaming about me. You said my name.”

She pursed her lips. Brown eyes narrowed. Everything about her posture told him she would argue this all night. So he opted for a preemptive strike. Winding one arm around her waist and one around her back, he drew her to him. Her hands still clutched the blanket to her neck, so he pinned them between his chest and hers. Captive.

Her eyes went wide in the reflected glow of the running lights. Surprised. He could feel the rapid tattoo of her heartbeat against his chest. And he had no qualms about fitting his mouth to hers and tasting her lips.

The flavor of her damn near took out his knees. Familiar and foreign all at once, her mouth followed his. Part of him couldn’t believe she was here, in his arms, allowing him to touch her and kiss her. But they’d always been good together physically. And even though he’d been dead to the world when he’d fallen into that berth earlier, he could have sworn she’d been aware it was him she was touching.

He hadn’t been positive she’d said his name at all, half afraid he’d dreamed up all that heat radiating from her when she’d rubbed her thigh against his. Licked him. But now, feeling her mouth come alive under his, he knew he’d been right. The spark between them was still there.

Without warning, she broke the kiss and stepped back. Ocean air blew between them, cooling his hot skin and stirring the blanket she gripped around her as if it were a life vest.

“Uncle.” One hand lifted to her mouth, as if to stroke away his kiss. Or to preserve the feel of it? “Okay? You win. I must have known on some level it was you in bed because I thought I was dreaming about you. But you have to believe that I never would have started coming on to you if I’d been awake. It’s been four years and a lot of water under the bridge.”

He did not want to think about the water under the bridge. The other guys she’d dated. The feelings for her that had run deep even after they broke up. He rerouted his thoughts with an effort.

“Subconsciously, you still want me.” Personally, he thought the desire was pretty obvious on the surface, too, or she wouldn’t have returned his kiss just now. But he recalled she had pride as fierce as his own, and he didn’t think pushing any harder right now would be wise.

“Or maybe I have a selective memory when I’m sleeping, and I can choose to remember your positive attributes instead of that famous Murphy arrogance.” She tucked into the stairwell. “I’m going below. It’s freezing up here.”

Funny. He’d been plenty warm until she’d walked away. After one more quick glance to check the horizon for traffic, Jack followed her down into the galley. She slid into a seat at the built-in table near the bag of supplies he’d picked up on his way to the marina.

He took the seat across from her, giving her space without letting go of a conversational point that needed to be settled ASAP.

“You’re right about the arrogance,” he admitted, eyes adjusting to the green tinge of the night-light he’d left on in the hall. “But I only pushed the kiss to remind you that we’re not exactly strangers. I mean, you trusted Keith enough to take you to Bar Harbor, and that guy couldn’t sail his way out of a bathtub. So why not me?”

She laughed. The warm, throaty chuckle pleased his insides like hot chocolate after a snowball war. Damn, but she was gorgeous when she smiled.

“The fact that I can still be persuaded to kiss you after you dumped me right before my spring formal and then joined the navy to escape my wrath sort of makes me wary around you.” The humor in her tone was tinged with a dark edge that surprised him.

But then, shipping out weeks after their breakup had guaranteed he wouldn’t see the fallout. Of course, she didn’t know that his decision to go into the service hadn’t been about her.

“The timing was unfortunate,” he admitted, unprepared to discuss those darker days with her. “But don’t let an old argument prevent you from making this trip. With two of us to sail this monstrosity that Keith calls a boat, we’ll make decent time, and you’ll be off and running in Bar Harbor before you know it.”

Her gaze turned thoughtful. Serious.

And the fact that he seemed to be holding his breath clued him in to how much he wanted her to say yes. A smarter man might have questioned his sanity, given the way they’d hurt each other in the past. But seeing her again had blasted through old defenses, sparking a need to simply be with her.

“Maybe a little closure would be a good thing.” She toyed with the plastic handle of the shopping bag on the table. “I’ve missed your family parties.”

“Still flying high on the year you won the Turkey Bowl?”

“I threw a bomb to Kyle and he ran it into the end zone for the big finish.” She mimicked the throw, her arm reaching out of the blanket long enough to give him a glimpse of soft, feminine curves beneath. “It was one of my finer moments.”

They stared at each other across the polished wooden table. Was she remembering the finer moment that came afterward, when they’d stolen into one of the cabanas so he could help her celebrate her victory? He’d insisted that she deserved a reward she wouldn’t forget… .

“I—” He cleared his throat, knowing she didn’t want to hear about that right now. First, he had to get her to agree to this trip with him. “Yeah. I remember.”

Needing a distraction from memories that lambasted him, he grabbed the bag of supplies on the table and dragged it closer.

“You hungry?” he asked.

He sure as hell was. But there wasn’t anything in that bag that could help.

“Starving, actually.” She tucked her legs up on the bench beneath her. “Some of us didn’t get invited to the engagement party of the century at the Murphy Mansion. How was it?”

Grateful to reroute his thoughts, he realized she probably would like to hear about Ryan’s shindig. There’d been six months where she’d practically been family, after all.

She’d moved to Chatham when he was in high school, but he hadn’t really become aware of her until he’d seen her at one of Kyle’s football games, cheering on the sidelines and explaining the finer points of the game—a little impatiently—to some girlfriends. He’d been amused by her solid grip on the offense’s use of the “I” formation, but she’d been five years his junior, way too young to register on his dating radar.

But once he’d become aware of her, Alicia LeBlanc seemed to be everywhere he turned for the next two years. Leading her high school team to a state championship in swimming and earning a college scholarship. Taking an interest in the hospitality field and getting a summer internship in one of his father’s resorts as an activity assistant. Showing up at his parents’ house in the summers with a slew of Kyle and Axel’s other friends to boat and surf.

Jack had become annoyed with himself when he realized he was heading home on the weekends just to see her, and he’d made a hell of an effort to stay away, knowing she was still too young for him. Not in terms of years, but in terms of where they were in life. She was still getting her education, while he was out on his own, taking trips to Europe for his job as VP of global properties.

He’d succeeded in putting distance between them right up until her junior year, when she’d pitched in to handle the PR for a charity golf tournament at one of his father’s resorts when the promotions director had been sick. Jack had been drafted by the family to help her, since he’d been in town. And seeing her in that light—professional and capable—had forced him to stop thinking of her as a kid. Still, he wouldn’t have acted on the attraction if she hadn’t come to him out on the golf course when he’d been picking up the flag sticks that night with his brother Ryan.

Ryan had read the signals and left them alone, but not before daring Jack to make a move on her.

Alicia had him outmaneuvered even then, making a no-holds-barred play for him on the ninth hole. And she’d been as assertive on a personal level as she’d always been on the playing field… .

“The party was—” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Food was good.” He pulled a six-pack of drinks from the bag and a few snacks. “But it can’t compare to grape soda and chocolate Pop-Tarts.”

“Perfect.” She snagged the box from him and opened it while he retrieved a glass and poured her drink over ice.

Then he filled a second one for himself.

“So…cheers to our northern voyage?” He kept her glass hostage while she thought about it.

“You’re impossible.” She chewed her pastry and narrowed her gaze again. “You know I can’t eat this without something to wash it down.”

“Guess you’d better hurry up and see we’re going to make this trip together.”

Still she left him hanging.

“We ought to sketch out some ground rules,” she said finally, setting her snack back on the foil package.

“You think that’s necessary?” He didn’t like the sound of “rules” when it came to her. He’d imposed a list as long as his arm where she was concerned in the past, and look how that had turned out.

“First—” she held up a finger, ignoring his question “—no kissing.”

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was going with him, right? He’d have to find more imaginative ways to make her remember how good they could be together.

He nodded.

“Second.” Her middle finger joined the pointer. “Separate beds.”