Don't Tempt Me (17 page)

"A desirable woman?"

"An easy lay."

"Okay, whoa, stop right there!" He raised his hands. "I have never treated you, or any woman, like that in my life, and I resent the accusation."

"Resent it all you want, but watch how you treat me in front of my crew."

He glared back at her, wanting to point out that the kiss hadn't exactly been one-sided, but the fury blazing in her eyes told him she needed to cool off before she'd listen to reason. "Okay. Fair enough. In front of your crew, I won't even think of you as a woman."

"Fine." Her cheeks flushed as if he'd insulted her in some new way. "Then if you'll excuse me, I have work to do." She stormed from the cabin.

He dropped back down on the bunk as the full impact of what he'd done hit him. So much for keeping everything friendly to avoid any awkward situations. "Way to go, St. Claire. Way to go."

Chapter 13

By the time Adrian changed into a sleeveless T-shirt and swapped his motorcycle boots for running shoes, he had his physical frustration under control. His mental frustration, however, still simmered as he returned to the party on the deck. The sun had finally beaten off the clouds, driving most of the passengers to the shade of the awning. He headed that way and found an empty stool at the bar. One question, though, kept nagging at him. Did Jackie really think he didn't respect her? Or had that been her temper talking?

He looked across the crowded main deck toward the bridge and saw her talking to Ti. Her stiff posture broadcast her mood loud and clear: uptight and ready to tangle. That didn't, however, mean she was still angry at him. He knew she tended to bottle her emotions up, especially when berating herself, which she was probably doing now that her initial fury was spent.

A part of him wanted to go right up there and goad her into another blowup so she could yell it out of her system and then they could talk like rational adults. If only he knew what he wanted to say once she did cool down.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked.

He ordered a draft beer, then drew patterns in the condensation on the side of the glass as he tried to sort out what to do. First he needed to explain that he more than respected her; he found her amazing. After everything she'd been through growing up, she'd started her own business at age twenty. She was strong, determined, feisty. And he wished like hell they'd had a chance to date before that chance had been taken from them.

But it had been taken away.

If he were interested in settling down in the immediate future, maybe he'd risk dating her despite the business complications. After all, things had worked out for Rory and Chance, and their situation hadn't been much different. Except that his sister had known from the start that she loved Chance and had chosen to risk everything in hopes of winning him.

He didn't have that certainty with Jackie. She fascinated him, yes. He enjoyed talking to her, and he damn sure wanted to sleep with her. But he didn't know if he wanted to marry her. Even if she had surprised him with nuances to her personality that he hadn't suspected, having to make a decision that huge up front really irritated him.

Most men and women had the luxury of trying each other on for size and letting their relationship develop at a comfortable pace. But no, he had to decide to either go for Jackie all out, or pull back and keep his hands off. If that didn't stink, he didn't know what did. Brooding about it, however, solved nothing. This was the day he'd been looking forward to for months, and while he could kick himself for his earlier blunder, he didn't have to let it ruin his whole trip.

Taking up his beer, he swiveled on the stool to rest his back against the bar and take in the party going on around him. Couples mingled around the buffet table, introducing themselves, while others watched the sailors climb into the rigging.

When the crew started taking up positions at various points, a tangible excitement moved through the crowd. The muffled purr of modern engines rumbled somewhere deep in the belly of the ship. Jackie had told him they used engine power to navigate Corpus Christi Bay, then raised the sails as soon as they slipped past the barrier islands.

He watched as she stepped to the rail with Ti behind her at the ship's wheel. She raised a walkie-talkie to her mouth, apparently communicating with the dockhands on the pier. When the mooring lines were cast off, the ship began to move. A cheer went up among the passengers as people on board and on the docks waved.

"Honey, look," a woman said, pointing upward. "Can you believe they actually climb up there?'

Adrian moved out from under the awning to see four sailors halfway up the mast stepping off the platform onto nothing more than a rope with their bellies draped over the yardarm. They spread out, preparing to unfurl the first of several square sails.

"Man," the woman's husband breathed in awe, "you couldn't pay me enough to do that."

Adrian looked at him in surprise. Personally, he'd love the chance to climb all the way to the top just to see what the world looked like from up there.

As the ship passed Padre Island, the music over the speakers clicked off. Jackie called out to one of the sailors on deck, "Stand by the main topmast stays'l!"

A stocky man with white hair repeated the order back to her in a thick British accent, then gestured to the passengers. "All right, laddies, if you've ever wanted to try your hand at being a sailor, I need some strong arms to heave the halyard."

Adrian set his beer aside without a moment's hesitation and stepped forward with two other men. They took hold of a line as thick as his forearm.

"Keep your eyes on me, and pull in time," the man told them. They gave a few tugs that accomplished little. More passengers joined in and they fell into an awkward rhythm. An enormous sail began a ponderous journey up the mainmast, metal rings clanking while the wrench squeaked. The British crewman at the head of the line began to sing "The Drunken Sailor" in a rousing voice.

Adrian quickly realized the song was meant to help them keep in time. He and the other men joined in singing, "Way, hey, up she rises. Way, hey, up she rises. Way, hey, up she rises early in the morning."

From the quarterdeck, Jackie called out more orders that were echoed back to her. The first of the square sails unfurled and filled with wind.

"That's away!" the man leading them shouted. Taking that to mean they were done, he and the others released the line to the cheers of the watching passengers. The husbands who had helped raised their arms in a gesture of victory, the conquering heroes.

Chest heaving from the exertion, Adrian looked up as the next square sail unfurled. The age-yellowed canvas billowed out with a multitude of patches but still a beautiful sight against the vivid blue sky. He could feel the vibration of the ship through his feet as they picked up speed, slicing through the open waters of the Gulf.

God, what a moment!
he thought, feeling alive in a way he'd never experienced. No wonder Jackie loved her ship and this life, challenges and all.

He glanced to the quarterdeck and saw her standing there, her feet braced slightly apart as she watched her men in the rigging. As if sensing his attention, she lowered her eyes. Their gazes met and held. He smiled at her as pleasure swelled inside his chest.

Her answering smile started out cautious, then rueful, the turned to a laugh as she shared the same joy in being under way. The cabin still lay between them, but so did a tingling excitement.

Behind her, Ti asked a question, breaking the moment.

Jackie pulled her gaze away from Adrian, battling guilt over how she'd acted earlier. Ten minutes after leaving his cabin, she'd realized what a bitch she'd been, lighting into him that way, as if the kiss had been all his fault, as if she hadn't wanted him to kiss her, or hadn't enjoyed it to the point of nearly climaxing right there against the wall. Good heavens, the man could kiss!

Even now, the memory brought the heat of arousal back to her cheeks along with the added flush of embarrassment. She needed to apologize, obviously, but how? She'd never been good at things that required humility.

Well, she told herself, sometimes a person had to do the right thing, no matter how uncomfortable it became. And she definitely needed to do something to smooth over this debacle: for the sake of her business, but for personal reasons, too. She'd come to enjoy Adrian's friendship, dammit, and didn't want to ruin it because of her stupid temper. So she'd apologize, then do a better job from this moment on controlling her temper, and her lust.

~ ~ ~

Just before sunset, the Pirate's Pleasure slipped into a cove and anchored. They'd stay there for supper, then continue up the coast, getting as much distance as they could behind them during the night in order to reach Pearl Island by afternoon the next day.

After making her rounds, Jackie descended through the main hatch, but stopped for a moment on the steps to survey the galley. The buzz of voices and clatter of dishes filled the air as passengers chatted and laughed together. The servers moved in a steady stream, setting down plates of seafood. She'd had dinners on board before, but somehow this was different. This was what she'd dreamed of doing since she was eighteen and working aboard the
Sea Star
.

A burst of laughter drew attention to a table in the corner where she found Adrian entertaining his dinner companions with some anecdote. Like the other passengers, he'd cleaned up for the evening meal, and now wore a white dress shirt and jeans. Throughout the day, she'd noticed how easily he won people over. He'd worked side by side with her crew far more than any of the other passengers, even helping take the sails down when they'd reached the cove.

She should have expected that of him, she supposed, after how much interest in sailing he'd shown during their phone conversations. Still, it surprised her that he'd been so instantly good at it.

In mid-laugh, he looked over, and saw her. His smile subsided some, but not completely. After a brief hesitation, he nodded to an empty chair at his table. Her heart lifted at the gesture. Was he willing to forgive her so easily? She wished she could join him and pretend nothing had happened. Unfortunately, she still had duties to perform.

She gave him a look of apology and tipped her head toward the main table, hoping he'd remember that some of the passengers had paid extra for reserved seats at the captain's table.

He nodded, letting her know he understood, then turned his attention back to his new friends.

With a sigh, she headed for her table, resigned to an hour of listening to sailing enthusiasts tell her about their yachts and how many America's Cups they'd attended. Normally, she enjoyed such conversations. Tonight, however, she spent the whole time mentally wrestling with what she'd say to Adrian when and if she managed to have ten minutes alone with him aboard a crowded ship.

~ ~ ~

After dinner, Adrian grabbed his leather jacket from his cabin and wandered topside. He stepped onto the deck and into the midst of another party. In the bar area, strings of white Christmas-tree lights had been strung to add a touch of whimsy. For entertainment, three of the crewmembers played old sailing songs on a hand accordion, fiddle, and harmonica. Passengers clapped in time or even danced.

He saw the three couples he'd eaten with: Bob and Sandy, James and Mary, Peter and Georgia. They'd been strangers when they'd sat down together, but had hit it off instantly. They waved for him to join them, but he shook his head. His body ached from a full day of pulling on lines and learning the rigging. What he really wanted was a little peace and quiet.

Since most of the noise and lights were toward the bow, he headed for the quarterdeck, where a single sailor stood by the wheel. A surge of disappointment told him he'd actually come looking for Jackie.

"Evening," the sailor greeted him.

Adrian nodded and headed for the rail at the very back of the ship. With the music in the distance, he could hear the pinging sound of the rigging and the lapping of the waves against the hull. Glancing up, he marveled at the number of stars. The Milky Way arched so close overhead, he felt as if he could reach up and touch it.

He envied Jackie this, the sense of freedom and exhilaration he'd felt all day. He loved his life, his family and friends, but a part of him had felt hemmed in lately as if life were passing him by.

Voices came from behind him, one of them definitely Jackie. He turned, but didn't see her. Then he noticed the golden light rising up from the hatch to the pilot house, which sat between the two sets of stairs to the quarterdeck. Jackie and the white-haired Brit moved into view. He saw only their heads as they bent over something, a sea chart, he presumed. A sonar, ship-to-shore radio, and other instruments filled the cramped space.

"Very well," he heard her say. "It's your watch, Mr. Jamison. I'll be in my cabin. Wake me if you need me."

She turned and mounted the ladder-steep steps to the quarterdeck and he saw she'd donned a navy peacoat over her costume. Not exactly in keeping with her lady-pirate character, but close enough to not ruin the effect completely.

The moment she saw him, she hesitated. He leaned against the rail, trying to look casual, hoping she'd join him. Thrusting her hands in the pockets of the coat, she headed toward him, then stopped with her feet braced as if for battle. He waited for her opening volley.