Awaken to Danger (12 page)

—mimosas.

Except he'd left behind his days of setting his mustache on fire with a flaming bar drink. His call sign

'Scorch' may have stuck, but his party ways were long gone. He just hoped the burgers and sodas he

had to offer now would be enough.

Even on the chilly winter day, the marina hummed with activity. No one swam in the frigid waters, but

plenty perched on boat decks and along the docks wearing downy wind-breakers and cinched hoods,

fishing off the pier or lounging on a bow. Carson searched the faces, wondering how many of them may

have been at Beachcombers that night. Damn it, why couldn't he remember who he'd seen on his way to

pick up his barbecue wings?

He'd been so hell-bent on getting out of there, the scent of whiskey and rum taking him to dangerous

mental places. Then once he'd seen Nikki, he hadn't been looking at anyone else. He'd been tempted to

hang out and talk to her as he'd done too often in the past. Since he'd been so tempted, he'd hauled ass

away as fast as possible.

Guilt hammered him like the rogue swing of a boat boom. If he'd stayed around, maybe he could have

prevented what happened. Owens would be alive. Nikki's life would be normal—and he would still be

dodging her.

Wouldn't he? His fist tightened around the sack of burgers, which made him think of those

brown-sugar-rich wings and that night all over again, not to mention another time he'd tasted hints of the

sugary sauce while kissing Nikki after their friends' wedding.

Jesus, he really was in a crapload of trouble if he could remember who catered a wedding seven months

ago. His feet thudded down the planked dock, past everything from a tiny Hobie catamaran manned by

two teens in wet suits to a Beneteau yacht with jeweled partiers, toward his thirty-one-foot Catalina, a

bargain bought used. Good thing boats didn't age like cars.

Without stopping, which would invite conversation and gossip, he waved at the crowded deck on the

Dakota-Rat, a sailboat owned by Vic Jansen, the brother-in-law of fellow crew member Bo Rokowsky.

The Rokowsky family outing resembled nothing from Carson's past but exactly the sort he'd wanted right

down to the little blond kid with pigtails and a wife.

Except there was an empty space in the family since Bo was deployed.

Nikki shouted a greeting out over the water which would no doubt start the rumor mill churning at the

squadron. He should have thought about that.

Maybe other people would have stepped in to help her if he hadn't preempted everyone else. Was he

keeping her from something better on a personal level, too? She should have a houseful of children. She

was a helluva teacher. He'd bet she would be an amazing mother, much like her own.

And she would. With some lucky bastard he didn't want to think about. Someday. Later. After he got

her through this nightmarish time in her life safely.

"I brought you here to relax, but I didn't think about Beachcombers being so close. If it's a problem we

can leave."

He stopped beside his boat slip, considering something else he could do to fill the day, kicking himself for

assuming she would enjoy sailing as much as he did.

"No, really. It's all right. If I hid from every reminder of this whole mess, I would never go anywhere."

She extended her hand. "Help me aboard?"

There she went again, being so trusting when he deserved to crawl for what he'd done. He certainly

deserved more wariness. All he'd offered her were a couple of unsavory facts from his childhood.

He took her hand, a strong hand with short nails and impossibly soft skin he remembered, too. His

memory flamed with their out-of-control kiss at his door, her hands tunneling up under his shirt, gliding

her softness over him at a time when raw pain heated him from the inside out. He owed her so damn

much.

Carson held her hand tighter as she stepped on the rocking hull, palmed her waist for the final boost. She

looked so right there he wondered why he'd never thought to bring her before.

"Catch." He pitched the rope to her, leaped aboard and finished launching from the dock.

Already the familiar roll of the waves rocking beneath soothed his soul like a cradle in motion shooshes a

baby. He took his place behind the wheel, firing the small motor to power them out of the narrow

channel, Nikki an arm's reach away, trailing her fingers in the light spray.

She pulled her hand out. "Are you doing this today for my dad, too?"

"What part of 'trust me' did you not understand?"

She flicked her damp fingers, showering an icy spray on his face. "Just joking."

Laughing, he leaned low and popped in the CD he'd bought this morning once he'd realized he would be

detouring to her parents' house. He cranked the volume as the best of the 1940's spun up some "Bing"

along with the percussion of the waves against the hull.

"Oh, you're playing dirty today."

"Gotta work with what you've got." He revved the motor to clear the channel without creating too large a

wake to damage the shore.

The croon of the engine and slosh of waves mixed with Nikki's off-key croonings that somehow took on

a musical-ity all their own.

After they finished the final bite of apple pie, she glanced over at him. "Thank you. This is really nice."

"I've missed running into you."

"Missed me showing up all the time, you mean?" She tipped her face into the sun. "God, I can hardly

believe now how obvious I must have been with that mega embarrassing crush I had on you."

Had.
Past tense.

Of course he'd known, and done his best to treat her like a little sister—except for one major lapse. He

should have kept well away all the time, but God, she was charming.

He cut the motor, ready to switch to sail power. In a minute. After he had the answer to one more

question he had to know now. "What do you think we would have done today if I hadn't screwed

everything up then?"

"Hmm. You would have asked me to come along and I would have pretended it was no big deal. So we

would have been doing the same thing, except now we're both coming into this with no expectations and

being totally true to who we are. And speaking of being totally me, do you mind waiting a few more

minutes to set sail?"

"Whatever works for you. This day is about you relaxing."

"Sometimes there's nothing more relaxing than getting your heart racing."

Heart racing? She couldn't actually mean what his body hoped she meant even if his mind knew better.

She'd just said she was over her crush on him.

Before he could reason through the maze of her words, she'd jumped from her seat and clambered over

to the main mast.

And up.

Holy crap.

Those long legs of hers in jeans and strong arms in his windbreaker shimmied her higher, her ponytail

swaying from the back of her ball cap. He'd done the same countless times, but this was different.

Enticingly different. He held the wheel and watched her stare out over the scenery, gasp in air, totally in

the moment.

Sunlight streamed down over her. No makeup. No jewelry. But plenty of bling just from...her.

Bling and Bing. Modern but timeless, with a breezy sophistication in her old-soul self. He was toast.

So for the moment he surrendered and simply enjoyed the view of her slim body, the sweet curve of her

bottom so perfectly on display. Sensory memory returned of gripping her taut roundness as he rolled her

beneath him...

Who knew how much time he spent staring at her before she inched her way back down again and

settled in a seat beside him. "Wow, the view from there is amazing."

Amazing. Yeah. That summed her up. "You scared the crap out of me, but that's one helluva pole dance,

lady."

She threw her head back in her full-out laugh, so much more "real" than anything he could ever remember

hearing or seeing in the affected world of his parents' social whirl. He raised the nylon sails, easing out the

line bit by bit, savoring the increasing pull on his muscles.

Nikki shaded her eyes with her hand. "Do you need help?"

"I'll let you know. For now, just enjoy the ride."

Too bad he couldn't seem to take his own advice around this woman.

Her eyes full of sun, sail and sky, Nikki lounged along the cushioned seat while Carson manned the wheel

like a Viking captain of old, making minor adjustments while the star-burst-patterned nylon billowed.

Why hadn't he named his boat? He obviously loved this vessel, and she could understand why.

Sailing offered a secluded slice of heaven.

He'd been right to bring her here. Tension from the investigation eased, even while another tension

altogether kinked as she felt herself drawn in again by this man.

Except before, she never would have done something as impulsive and undignified as climb a mast while

he could see her. How strange to realize that in those days she hadn't been true to herself. She hadn't

shown him the total picture of Nikki Price. Or had she tried to morph herself into what she thought he

wanted?

The craft picked up speed along the waves, biting through the wind like a plane cutting through the

clouds. She imagined he looked much the same at the helm of his C-17. "If you love the water so much,

why didn't you join the Navy?"

Feet planted and braced, his thigh muscles bulged against worn denim. "I didn't much like the idea of six

months out on ship duty every year. Besides, the water's my hobby, my way of relaxing. If I turn it into

work, I might lose that."

"Such as how I enjoy sports and running, but didn't want to be a gym teacher."

"Exactly." A gull winged low, dipping for supper in the comfortable silence before he picked up the

conversational thread again. "Have you sailed much?"

"Nope. This is my first time."

The wheel slithered through his shocked-slack fingers before he secured his grip again and redirected the

bow. "You crawled up there blind? What if it hadn't been safe? Good God, haven't you pitched off

enough high places into water for one month?"

His concern was more than a little touching. She brushed a reassuring hand over his thigh—whoa baby.

She pulled her arm back. "You would have told me to stop."

"You're trusting me too easily."

"That's just my body, not my heart, pal. Two very different matters."

At least he had the grace to look away. "So this is your first boating trip."

"It's my first
sailing
outing, but I've been boating. My family camped a lot growing up. Dad had a little

John boat." She'd forgotten about those outings until now, and took comfort from knowing her childhood

hadn't been all about her parents' arguments. "He pulled it behind that old truck he still drives. I swear

he'll be driving that same truck when he takes Jamie and the new baby off to college."

"Are you okay with these new additions to your family?" Alongside, a fish jumped and plopped.

"I'm a little old for sibling rivalry, don't you think?"

"Feelings aren't always reasonable."

She'd never even considered it, but searched her heart and came up with... "I feel more like their aunt

than a sister, which makes me a little sad. But Mom and Dad are a lot stronger as a couple this go-round.

The kids will have everything they need and more. Actually, since Dad's coming up on retirement in less

than five years, he'll be pulling cupcake duty for elementary birthday parties while Mom works."

"Now that's an image guaranteed to spread grins around the squadron, a crusty old loadmaster stirring up

a batch of frosting with sprinkles."

"I'll try to slip you some pictures."

His laugh rolled out over the cresting waves rippling toward one of the ka-jillion small historic battlefield

parks throughout the Charleston area. "So you really are okay with the new rug rat siblings."

"Totally. They're gonna have a great life. Don't get me wrong, Chris and I had a good childhood in so

many ways, but for these children, things will be more stable."

He set the autopilot and shifted to stand beside her, leaning back against the side. "So when your dad

says no flyboys for his little girl, it's a sentiment you echo."

"That would be strange since I've spent so much time dating flyers." Was he only making idle

conversation? Tough to think and decide with his body heat blasting.

"I figured it was a rebellion thing against your father."

No way was she confessing to her real reason for her recent run of flyboy dates who happened to have

preppy blond good looks.

She shifted her attention to the boats in the distance and the ones remaining in the faraway dock by

Beachcombers. More familiar memories of the place flooded her brain, stuffed fish peering down from

over windows with glass eyeballs and slack jaws. Netting full of shells, sand dollars and coral stretched

across the wall. Small lanterns rested on each wooden picnic table, the smoky blue glass letting little light

flicker through, more mood setting than illuminating.

Nothing new, yet she still clung to every detail, searching for a hidden clue in the place where she'd run