A Woman's Heart (16 page)

"Your parents?" he asked.

"Yes," she answered stiffly. The picture had been taken a few months before they died.

Peter was looking at her, an unspoken question in his eyes. But after last night, she couldn't talk of her parents to Peter. Knowledge was power and he had enough of that already.

"What are you doing in here?" she demanded. Her cabin felt too small, her bunk too big.

"You asked me to wake you. Remember?" He picked up a miniature vial of perfumed oil from her dresser, pulled out the stopper, and sniffed appreciatively. "It's been a pleasure," he added, bestowing on her another grin.

"Well, I'm awake now," she muttered, more heat spreading from her neck to her face.

"I can see that."

"So go. I need to get dressed."

He re-stopped the essence and put it back on her dresser. "Pretty," he said, almost to himself, almost as though he meant her, not the oil. "Take your time," he added, giving her one last inscrutable glance before turning and striding out the door.

Jann hurriedly pushed back her quilt and struggled to her feet. She tugged on her shorts and a clean tee shirt and headed toward the main cabin. Putting the kettle on to boil, she pulled two mugs from the cupboard and placed them on the galley's narrow counter. Then, sinking onto the settee, she balefully eyed the mugs.

Still two nights left. The worst of it was that at times during the previous night, she'd actually liked Peter Strickland, more than liked if she was honest.

She shook her head, hoping the movement would wipe those fancies from her mind. She couldn't afford to like Peter. It was too dangerous already that she was taking the risk with Alex.

Besides which, when Peter talked about his mother, he made it perfectly clear that he thought Jann was just like her, a woman who played at being a mother, but when things got inconvenient would throw in the towel.

It hurt that he thought that, but she couldn't let herself be hurt. To ensure custody of Alex, she had to remain on guard, couldn't let the man who wanted her baby get under her skin. Peter Strickland was capable of anything if it got him what he wanted. By the cold, clear light of morning, that much was clear.

Her fingers curled into a fist. She had to continue to see things clearly, to keep strictly business her relationship with Peter Strickland, to put a halt to this unfortunate habit they'd fallen into of discussing their personal lives. She couldn't need, couldn't want to know what he'd been doing for the past ten years.

Filled with new resolve, she moved back into the galley where she swiftly made toast and fried two eggs. She shuddered at the sight of them lying on the plate, and reached into the wire basket hanging from the ceiling. Extracting an orange, she popped it into her shorts' pocket, then loading everything else onto a tray she carried it up on deck.

"Come and get it," she said briskly. "I'll steer."

"Aren't you eating?"

"Of course." She pulled out her orange and peeled it, then moved to take his place at the wheel. "Now eat. We've got a big day ahead of us."

"Which is why you need more for breakfast than an orange." He eyed her critically. "It looks like I'll have to take you in hand."

"What do you mean?"

"Tomorrow morning..."

She held her breath.

"...I'll make you my world famous whole wheat banana pancakes."

Her breath escaped in a whoosh.

"Guaranteed to make even the staunchest health nut whimper for more."

"We'll see about that," she said, a smile tickling her lips.

* * *

"There! Do you see it?" Jann shouted.

Peter came up behind her, his body separated from hers by only a hand's width. She could still feel his heat. Goose bumps rose on her arms then skittered across her shoulders.

"There," she said again, pointing, fighting an inexplicable urge to lean back against him. "On the horizon."

"How do you know it's one of the racers?"

"I just do!" she exclaimed, excitement claiming her.

"Women's intuition?"

"If you like." She glanced around at him, his green eyes disconcertingly close. "It seldom fails me," she added, smiling.

"Run with it then." He smiled back at her and leaned closer. "Just remember to listen carefully when it tells you things your head can't accept."

"Such as?"

His smile broadened to a grin. "You figure it out."

"I need to set up my cameras," she said briskly, trying to shake off the tentacles of warmth overtaking her. "Can you maneuver us into position?"

"I'll be ready when you are." He moved to trim the sails then glanced back at her, his eyes serious. "They'll be good, you know—your pictures, I mean."

His enthusiasm was catching. Suddenly anything seemed possible, which was how life should be. A job she loved, sunshine all around, and the right person with whom to share it.

Her skin rippled with new shivers. It was happening again. Peter Strickland was casting a spell and reeling her in. She had to resist, had to focus on her photography, nothing else. If she could capture this race, the thrill and disappointment of it, then she'd really have something to sell! Then she could provide for Alex without touching his trust fund.

Peering toward the horizon, she saw not one boat, but two. Adrenaline whistled through her, as exhilarating as a stiff breeze on a hot day. She had prayed for a tight finish but hadn't believed it would really happen.

The boats were so close it was difficult to distinguish one from the other. Like prehistoric mating birds, their sails dipped and bobbed in unison.

Then she glanced toward the Maui coastline. Small dots, growing larger by the moment, were heading out to meet the racers who had traveled thousands of miles to the finish.

But she would be there first! She would get her pictures before the local boats even got close. Excitement surging through her, she pushed her cameras into a corner of the cockpit and reached for the wheel. Peter stood at the mast, legs spread, rolling with the movement of the boat as he trimmed the sails.

When he was done, he moved closer, his cat's eyes gleaming. "Are you ready? They'll be on us in seconds."

Jann nodded. Relinquishing the wheel to Peter, she picked up her cameras and moved to the bow of the boat. The view was perfect. She harnessed her camera bag to the anchor winch then crouched beside it. Raising her camera to her eye, she trained it on the swiftly approaching sail boats. She wouldn't use the tripod. Though Peter would keep the boat as motionless as possible, with the rolling of the sea the camera would be steadier in her hand.

The racers were closer now. Jann began to snap pictures, close-ups with one camera, the broad view with another.

She was near enough now to see the crews on both vessels, the sailors' faces pinched from an exhausting two weeks at sea. They seemed oblivious to everything but their assigned jobs.

But occasionally, for an instant only, the cautious masks shrouding their faces dropped, and glimpses of elation showed through. Their prayers, that theirs would be the first boat over the finish line, sparkled from each sailor like star bursts from heaven.

Virtually neck and neck, the racers swept towards
Heart's Desire
, a tail wind filling their spinnakers. Peter kept a tight grip on the wheel of Jann's boat, holding it all but stationary, but she could see his gaze locked on the racers, his lips curving into a smile.

The racers were in line with them, when suddenly, inexplicably, the wind changed direction, coming from behind
Heart's Desire
now and across the racers' decks. The craft closest to them harnessed the breeze and the crew scrambled to new positions as the vessel heeled to one side. Then it flew like a hawk ahead of the other boat.

Jann continued snapping photos, first of one crew then the other, still close in distance, but miles apart in expression. On the one shone victory, on the other, defeat. Then suddenly, as though they had never been there at all, both boats were gone, bearing toward the shore and the crowds lining the dock.

Jann sank breathless against the bow's railing, resting a moment before slowly gathering her cameras and clambering back along the narrow deck to the stern. The racers were far ahead now, removed from her physically, but their spirit still hung like a rainbow in the air.

"Well?" Peter asked, his gaze meeting and holding hers.

"Yes!" Jann said softly, exultation sweeping through her. Then, "Yes," she said again, louder this time.

He held out his arms.

For the space of a heartbeat, she hesitated, as a swimmer would before a dive. Then with a cry, she threw caution aside and plunged, falling into Peter's arms as though she belonged.

Chapter 10

A current as binding as the circle of Peter's embrace surged between them. Although Peter's body shielded Jann from the wind's full force, it caressed her skin as she linked her fingers at the base of his neck.

The breeze buffeted his hair forward, covering his eyes. Then slowly, inevitably, he captured her mouth with his.

She froze for one long uncertain moment then, like an icicle in late spring, she thawed beneath his heat. His lips were as salty as the sea breeze itself, yet as variable as the ocean; firm and unrelenting one moment, and in the next yielding to the contours of her mouth.

One kiss formed another then went on to another. Had there been a beginning? She no longer knew. All she knew was that she wanted him as she couldn't want, and needed him as she couldn't need. With a mighty effort, she turned away just as he turned away also.

"We decided not to do this anymore," she said, amazed she could sound so definite.

"We did," he agreed hoarsely.

She ran her tongue over her lips, still able to taste him. Trembling, she faced him again, piercingly aware of every line and plane of his face, every shade of color in his eyes. It was impossible to draw away, yet impossible to be so near. She stepped backward, her heels banging hard against the solid side of the cockpit.

His gaze searched hers.

"It complicates things," she went on, lifting her chin higher, firming her jaw.

"There's nothing simple about it," he agreed, touching her arm.

"I'm attracted to you," she admitted. She couldn't deny the feelings surging through her. "But that's as far as it goes."

"You're afraid," Peter accused.

She was afraid. Afraid of Peter and how he made her feel. The sort of feeling that could end in pain.

She knew about pain, knew nothing was worth that.

Except for Alex.

"Are you afraid of what you're feeling?" he went on.

She couldn't answer him that.

"Or of change?"

"Nothing's going to change."

"Or of me?" he finished softly.

His question pierced Jann's heart.

An unfathomable expression clouded his eyes.

Was he regretting the kiss already?

So why had he kissed her? Her heart shriveled. Was it to gain custody of Alex? The one thing she couldn't afford to lose and the one thing Peter was prepared to go to any lengths to get.

She tore her gaze from his and stared out to sea. "You're on this boat don't forget, because I need your help." With a struggle, she steadied her voice. "And because you're killing time until you can see Alex again. Let's not make this situation worse than it already is."

"Nothing could make it worse." Cupping her chin in his hand, he pulled her around to face him. "There is a solution. Don't fight me on Alex and we'll take it from there."

Pain stabbed her lungs and threw her breath to the winds. When she pulled in another, salty air stung her throat. "That's not a solution," she answered, not wanting Peter to see her hurt. "That's impossibe."

* * *

Jann stepped into the phone booth in front of the drug store and drew the door shut. Rummaging in her purse for some coins, she dropped them in the slot.