Ready To Burn (Due South Book 3) (27 page)

“Roll it,” Henry said.

Kezia, on cue, slipped a forkful of roasted quail and Cumberland sauce into her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut with a moan worthy of Meg Ryan.

“Good, baby?” Kip slid an arm around Kezia’s shoulders and kissed her cheek.

Shaye swallowed a snicker, knowing Ben, confined inside with the assistants, would be fuming if he could see Kip hamming it up for the cameras.

The Mollymawk heaved, angling down sharply into a trough. Shaye’s stomach dropped with it. Joss the sound-guy stumbled backward, slamming into Del.

Joss fell, people cussed, flatware pinged, plates broke—a dull crack, splash, wetness on her cheek and—where was Del?

Shaye whipped around.

There—
oh, God.
Suspended eerily vertical in the water but sinking, Del floated with his arms floundering in lazy circles, a crimson stream of blood spiraling out from his temple.

Shaye’s throat closed, her heart jammed into it so she couldn’t breathe. Seconds seemed to turn into minutes. Her gaze zipped around. No one else had noticed Del; it was all on her. Shaye kicked off her chef shoes.

“Man overboard!” she yelled and dove off the boat.

The seawater closed over her in an icy grip, shocking her system to absolute clarity. Down, down into her nightmare of clear blue. Her eyes stung with the cold, with the salt, but she kept them open as she powered her muscles through watery resistance. Del hadn’t gone far, since the initial crack to his stubborn male head hadn’t knocked him unconscious,
thankyougod
, and he was trying to claw his way to the surface.

Their gazes connected, and her heart dipped and rolled like the hull above. No panic showed in his beautiful eyes, which were fixed on her face. No panic, just a slight wrinkling of his brow as if
he
were worried about
her
. She swam closer, grabbed fistfuls of his jacket and yanked, kicking her legs to propel them into the light.

Bubbles exploded nearby, clearing to reveal Ben and Kip surging toward them.

I got this
, she wanted to say as Ben wrapped his arm around Del, and Kip appeared on her other side.
Hey, I got this
.

But she was grateful for their strength in the few seconds it took for their heads to break the surface. Shaye shrugged Kip’s hand off her arm and trod water in a fast circle until she spotted Del and her brother, both sucking down huge gulps of air. Blood oozed down Del’s cheek and jaw. An inflatable device splashed next to her. She flinched then grabbed hold, continuing to swim.

“Get. Out. Bleeding,” Del wheezed when she reached his side. “Sharks.”

“Please.” She shoved the bright orange floatie at him. “Henry’s more likely to attack you for stuffing up his filming than a great white.”

Ben laughed. “No shark’ll mess with a Harland. Not with her mad on.”

Del’s nose crinkled at the floatie, but he wrapped his arms around it. “Why’s she mad?” He rubbed a hand on his forehead and glanced down, grimacing. “I’m the one…bleeding out…here.”

“Man up. It’s only a scratch.” Ben nudged Del’s shoulder but stayed at his side as they dog-paddled toward the Mollymawk.

Shaye stroked backward, watching Del for any sign of struggle. The surge and flow of the waves buffeted her, her cotton pants clinging to her legs. Nothing, strangely, that made her panic. Not even the blood seeping down from a shallow cut on his head, slowing now with the water temperature. Not while Del’s gaze remained locked on hers.

“She’s mad because she had to jump in and save your skinny ass.” Ben grinned over at her, propelling Del and the floatie closer to the boat ladder. “Now her hair looks like ropes of seaweed. Right, sis?”

Shaye huffed out a sigh and issued an eye-roll. Seaweed? Super.
Thanks, big brother.

Del winked at her and some of the tightness in her belly eased. Actually, mad was only one of many emotions tumbling through her body. Mad, relieved, wanting-to-hug-and-kiss-the-snot-out-of-Del. Wait, was that an emotion?

Shaye reached the bottom rail of the ladder. Kip climbed up before her and then stretched down a hand, helping her struggle up the rungs. Kezia wrapped a blanket and her arms around Shaye when she hit the deck. Shaye hugged her friend tightly, not wanting to admit the other emotion shredding her raw.

Fear. Not fear of the water, anymore. Fear of losing Del Westlake.

***

Kezia and Annie bustled Shaye into a stateroom, so she didn’t see Del and Ben climb onto the Mollymawk. Piper and Ben kept a few spare clothes in a locker, so at least she had a
Coffee Before Talkie
tee shirt and a pair of yoga pants of Piper’s to pull on after a hot shower.

Three sharps knock sounded on her door while she towel-dried her hair. She opened to Del braced in the doorway, dressed only in Ben’s old board shorts, which hung dangerously low on his hips. He smelled of seawater and antiseptic, with an adhesive bandage rakishly positioned on his forehead.

“Ouch. Nasty.” She raised a hand to touch.

Del snagged her fingers and tugged them down, pressing his lips against them. Whether from shock or delayed reaction to the cold water, or even because the bare skin on display was mouth-wateringly gorgeous, butterflies the size of stingrays swooped around her stomach.

Shaye backed into the room, and he followed—not letting go of her hand and not breaking intense eye contact—as if they participated in some sort of ballroom dance.

When he was far enough inside, he flicked the door shut with a bare foot.

“Come here.” He reeled her in.

Shaye wrapped her arms around his waist, resting her cheek on his chest and closing her eyes, the soft thud-thud-thud of his heartbeat pulsing through her skin. His hands skimmed up and down her spine then settled on her waist.

Del didn’t speak, just held on.

“Thank you.” His voice rumbled up from deep in his chest and vibrated along her lips, which had somehow pressed to his collarbone. “You saved me.”

Her heart battered her ribs, once, twice, three times.

“I didn’t save you, Hollywood.” She couldn’t explain why his words touched her so much. But the seriousness of his tone, the rawness shimmering through it, triggered a knee-jerk reaction of making light of the situation. “Ben was the one who hauled your butt to the surface.”

A big hand moved to her head, smoothing damp strands of hair and then slipping down to rest on her nape. “You dived in after me without hesitation.”

He swallowed hard, his breathing ragged.

“Even with your fear of boats after what happened to your dad,” he said. “You went into the water.”

“Oh.” She hadn’t had time to think of her father before diving in.

If it’d been a member of Ethan’s crew, she didn’t know if she’d have reacted the same. No heroics were involved—in fact, if Ben was next to her, she probably would’ve shoved him overboard to rescue Del.

But Ben hadn’t been there, and so she’d jumped in without rationalizing all the reasons why she couldn’t. The only reason that mattered, the only emotion pounding through her bloodstream, was the fear of letting Del Westlake go when she wasn’t ready.

Not yet, goddammit. Soon…but not yet.

“You could’ve drowned.” His breath whispered against her temples, stirring her hair.

“Rubbish. All Harlands are born with gills. I don’t
like
to swim and dive, but it doesn’t mean I can’t kick ass in the water like Ben and Piper can.”

His soft chuckle tickled her ear. “You kicked ass, all right. And Henry’s as happy as a pig in shit, since Cruz managed to keep his camera rolling.”

“God.” Images of her floundering around with seaweed hair on international television floated through her mind. Ugh. “Really? They’re going to use it?”

“All about the ratings, so Henry says.”

Shaye sighed and wriggled out of Del’s arms, avoiding the temptation to anchor herself to him and drop them both onto the room’s queen-sized bed.

Bet Henry would love footage of
that
for his show.

“It’ll bring more publicity for Ben, I guess—and more sympathy for you, being rescued by a
girl
.”

A flash of his cocky Del smile. “Feeling sympathetic toward me too, cupcake?” He closed the gap between them. “Wanna kiss my boo-boos better?”

Shaye shoved at his chest with both hands, forcing him to walk backward to the door. He grinned down at her the whole time, making her tingle from happy-place to toes.

“Kiss your own boo-boos, Hollywood.”

Del paused at the door, opening it but not stepping outside. He parted his mouth to say something then shut it again, shaking his head.

“What?” she asked.

He cupped her chin, mesmerizing her with his steady blue gaze. “I’ll never forget the look on your face as you swam down to me. You were fearsome, like a mermaid warrior. Fierce and strong and beautiful. Your dad would’ve been proud of you today, Shaye.”

Her chest compressed with unbearable pressure, her eyes stinging as if they’d been exposed to salt water again.

Del leaned forward and pressed a light kiss on her forehead. Then he left, pulling the door shut after him.

If Shaye didn’t know better, she’d think the man had started to care about her, too. That maybe, he couldn’t bear to let
her
go, either.

Chapter 14

If Del had been a diabetic, he’d be in a sugar coma by now.

The staff had finally left for the night on Halloween Eve, so Del attacked Shaye’s party food list with a vengeance. Maybe spun caramel garnishes and the perfect
crème brûlée
were more his style than chocolate-chip-fake-spider cookies, novelty cupcakes, and witches’ poison toffee apples—but like hell would he renege on his end of the deal.

The swinging doors hissed open.

“Need a hand?” Shaye’s voice echoed through the empty kitchen.

Up to his elbows in a huge bowl of cookie dough, Del was tempted to tell her he had it under control. Which would be a total lie, but at least he’d salvage his pride. She’d left with the rest of the guys at half past ten, with a smug grin and the laughing instruction to “have fun baking cookies.”

He glanced over his shoulder. She wore her brown hair pulled high on her head, but damp strands had already escaped the messily tied bun. Not long from the shower, obviously—the tantalizing scent of flowery body wash drifted off skin barely covered by shorts and a tank top, which slid off one shoulder to expose a tantalizing red bra strap.

The woman was more dangerous to him than any poison apple.

“It’s under control.” The baking maybe, because he sure wasn’t. What little control he had drifted through his fingers like powdered sugar as she sashayed over to lean against the counter next to him.

“Plus, you’re not dressed for the kitchen,” he added.

God, she was all big green-eyed innocence and girl-next-door freshness. Shaye crossed her arms, lush breasts pushed up and outward.

Ah, hell
. Not so goddamned innocent.

Del swallowed with a papery mouth. “If you’re only here to distract me, I’d rather you find someone else to annoy.”

“I distract you?”

Since he refused to glance over to see if she was serious or teasing, Del scooped up another spoonful of cookie dough and rolled it into a ball. “It’s a wonder I can function in this kitchen at all when you’re around.”

“Oh.”

Definite smugness in her tone, and the scent of flowers wafted closer.

“Actually, I came to help,” she said. “I’ll take over the cookies while you do the frosting for the cupcakes.”

Bossy wee thing…but since he didn’t want to be baking kids’ food until two in the morning, it seemed wiser to agree. “Great. I’ll work over here.”

He moved away before another glimpse of her perfect tits drove him half out of his mind and walked to an opposite workspace where he’d set out a block of butter to soften.

“You’re welcome.” Shaye’s voice, dripping with sarcasm, came from behind him.

An easy silence developed, the quiet rhythm of two people doing what they loved. More so in Shaye’s case, since he didn’t particularly enjoy baking. But he
did
enjoy working close to her, even if she was hellishly distracting.

“So…I talked to Carly at the bridal shower the other day.” Shaye slotted the next tray of cookies into the oven. “She mentioned Jessica.”

Hairs rose on his nape, but he made a non-committal grumble in his throat and continued to beat the butter and powdered sugar.

“I’m not the type of girl you’d normally pick, Del, am I?”

“No.” Cautious now. How many times had he put his foot in his mouth with a woman? Too many to count.

“Guess I’m pretty boring compared to the women you date.”

Pointing out he rarely bothered to
date
women was probably not wise.