West Wind (10 page)

"It's a small town, isn't it? I mean, it's
amazing to me that she knew my grandfather. I never met him. He
died a long time ago."

Brett nodded. "Yes, I know. In fact, that's
what I need to talk to you about."

Curious, Sabrina leaned forward. "What is
it?"

"Well, this could be a bit touchy. I mean, I
don't really know what happened last night when Jay left the bar
after you, but …"

"Jay? What does this have to do with him?"
Sabrina leaned back, frowning and blushing furiously.

Brett nodded again, heaving a deep sigh. The
woman was an open book.

"It's like this, Sabrina, I like you, and I
think you coming to Warren and finding this boat is something
special. I mean it," he said, raising a hand when she tried to
speak. "Don't stop me; I've got to get this out."

He paused long enough for Maude to plunk two
frosty beers on the table. After she was out of earshot, he
continued.

"Sabrina, I could tell something was
happening last night. Jay never chases women, but he wouldn't take
his eyes off of you. The way he ran out of here. Well, I've never
seen him act that way."

Sabrina bit her lip and looked away,
unwilling to comment.

"And I can see you got something going for
him, too. Don't you?"

"Brett. If this is about my relationship with
Jay, then you need to stop right now. I don't mean to be rude, but
it's none of your business."

"See, that's the problem. It is my business,"
he said, gulping his beer. "Jay is my boss. He owns the
boatyard."

She dropped her trembling hands in her lap.
"That's bizarre," she said.

"Believe me; it's more bizarre than you
think. Jay is the grandson of Derek West, your grandfather's
partner."

"You're kidding me," she exclaimed. For the
first time in her life, she understood the term
"thunderstruck."

Brett nodded, satisfied that she understood,
that she comprehended the uncanny situation.

"Sabrina; there's more. You see, Jay had a
terrible childhood and his family, his grandmother, blame the
Windhams for all their bad luck. He went berserk this morning when
he saw the Zephyrus. He wanted to destroy it as soon as he saw
it."

Sabrina's chin dropped and her eyes
misted.

"When I told him who you are, pointed out
that this is some kind of mystical connection, he got pissed off
and left. Probably holed up in a bar downriver."

"I can't believe it. Oh my God," she said,
hiding her face in her shaky hands.

Maude returned, shoving a steaming bowl of
chowder and a toasted BLT towards Sabrina.

"What's the matter?" She looked accusingly at
Brett who silently mouthed "Jay," pointed to Sabrina's bowed head,
then rolled his eyes. Maude grunted, and returned to the kitchen,
shaking her head. She owned a bar long enough to know love was a
rocky road.

She stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly
to look once more at Sabrina. Love? Between a Windham and a West?
Now she'd seen it all.

Long, silent moments passed. Brett drank his
beer and regretted not ordering anything to eat. The chowder
smelled tempting, and who could resist toast and bacon? After a few
minutes, he began to squirm.

"Sabrina. Eat your lunch."

She shook her head, still refusing to look
up. Her heart ached and she felt on the verge of tears.

"Well," Brett said. "Do you mind if I eat the
soup?"

That made her laugh and she sniffed, wiping
her nose. She finally looked up and Brett saw sparkling tears in
her eyes. She hiccupped, her breath hitching in her chest.

Oh, Grandmother Rose! She cringed at the
memory of their talk.

"Brett. It's awful. You don't know, nobody
knows, what happened."

He spooned the creamy soup into his mouth and
swallowed.

"You're wrong, Sabrina. Everybody knows," he
said, nodding sagely.

* * *

It was late when Jay motored to the dock,
tying the skiff to a cleat along the seawall. His head down, he
strode to the back of the boatyard. The motion-detector light came
on as he neared the steps to his apartment.

"I've been waiting for you."

He stumbled at the sound of the soft voice,
peered closely at the dark staircase. There, sitting on the second
step, huddled in her long leather coat, was Sabrina.

"Go away," he muttered, searching his jeans
for his house key.

Sabrina stood and leaned towards him,
smelling smoke and bourbon. "Are you drunk? She stepped closer, her
hands in her coat pocket.

"Unfortunately, no. At least not very. You
should leave," he said, refusing to look her in the eye. Instead,
he concentrated on her feet, bare for some reason.

"I should," she whispered. "But I can't."

He frowned. All afternoon he had cursed her
and her family, drowning his anger at a bayside bar. Now all he
wanted to do was sink into her, inhale her musky perfume, taste her
fevered lips. He looked away instead. Years of anger, years of hurt
had hardened him.

Sabrina understood his rage. It wasn't simple
for her to confront Jay, this intimate stranger, but she had to try
to relieve his sorrow. "May I come upstairs? I'd like to speak with
you," she said.

"I don't have anything to say to you."

She let her long, leather coat fall open.
Beneath it, she wore only a bra and panties. "Well, may I come
upstairs and not talk to you?"

With a growl, Jay crushed her against his
chest and his mouth ravaged hers. Sabrina encircled his neck with
her arms, melting into him, yielding to his fury. He released her
long enough to pull her up the stairs. He fumbled with the key,
unlocked the door clumsily. Inside, he slammed it shut and shoved
her against it.

In the dark, against the wood barrier, he
devastated her with his mouth, punished her with his hands.
Unwilling to release her, he shoved her panties down with one hand
and stroked her, sliding fingers into the wetness. With sharp
teeth, he tugged at her bra until her breasts were free, then he
sucked voraciously on her hardened nipples. Sabrina panted and
squirmed against his questing touch. She arched her back, begging
him to suckle one breast, then the other. She whimpered when he
removed his fingers, then sighed when it was replaced with his
long, hot, hard shaft. She wiggled her hips, slipping and sliding
around him as he pushed against her velvety softness.

He cupped her bottom, lifting her feet off
the floor, pinning her. His face buried in her soft, dark hair and,
audacious and urgent, his hands slid her up and down his length.
Suspended between the wall and his body, straining closer, needing
him deeper, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

The soft sounds coming from deep in her
throat and the impatient touch of her hands assured him that
despite his ferocity, he pleased her. He rested against her for a
moment, trembling and fighting for control. She wouldn't allow it,
biting at his shoulders and plunging her tongue into his ear.

"Wait; don't move," he whispered against her
neck.

"I can't help it," she moaned, shifting
fluidly with an intuitive pace. The slow, swirl of her hips drove
him insane and with a roar, he picked up his own rhythm. She cried
out when she felt the crest, riding each wave of ecstasy. As she
quivered with the joy that only he could provide she felt him
plunge within her one final time. Then, they both sagged. In the
dark, she listened to his labored breathing and felt him tremble as
he held her.

* * *

Naked and nestled in the sheets of his bed,
Sabrina slept. As the sky lightened, Jay watched her sleep,
savoring the fine bones of her face, the soft curve of her neck.
Exotic, with long lashes and dark, rich hair, she didn't look like
a Windham. He had seen photos of both Don and Rose, yet he couldn't
see either of them in Sabrina.

She hadn't said anything to him about the
sailboat; hadn't once tried to convince him to restore the
Zephyrus. The cynic in him reminded him to be patient. She
would.

Sabrina stretched, opening her eyes slowly.
When she saw him, she smiled, her lush, swollen lips parting. She
scooted into the curve of his body and sighed. She traced his jaw,
tickling his beard and lips. She rubbed a finger in the crease
between his eyebrows.

"Don't frown."

Jay closed his eyes slowly.

"Maybe this is the way it's supposed to be,"
she whispered against his neck.

"Now you sound like Brett."

"Maybe he's right."

"What did he tell you," Jay said, rolling
onto his back.

"Nothing I didn't already know," Sabrina
said, laying her head on his chest. She listened to the sound of
his heart, heard it speed up as his anxiety mounted.

"You knew? From the beginning, you knew?"

"I knew about our grandparents. I didn't know
you existed, didn't know who you were when we met. When we …" she
faltered. "I didn't know the connection until this afternoon when
Brett told me."

"What the hell does he know?" Jay eased his
grip, sliding a hand to caress her naked back.

"Well," she said, snuggling into his embrace,
"he says he knows 'everything,' whatever that means. That everyone
knows. Does that mean the whole town?"

Jay nodded. "Yeah, I'm afraid it does. My
grandmother went nuts. She made sure that everybody knew Rose
Windham was an adulterer. She blamed the fire on Rose, said she
killed them."

"It's true," Sabrina said, sighing. "Rose
told me about it two weeks ago after I found some letters and a
newspaper clipping. It was horrible. So tragic."

"You don't look anything like her, do
you?"

"No; I look like my mother. She's Brazilian.
She and my father met in college."

"She must be very beautiful," he said,
stroking her cheek. "You are."

Sabrina turned her head and kissed his palm.
"When I first saw you, I thought you were scary. Dark and brooding
and dangerous."

"But not anymore?"

"No. I guess I've developed a taste for
danger. And all these hard muscles," she said, squeezing his
arm.

"I've been too rough with you," he said,
contrite. "I've hurt you, haven't I?"

He held her against the pillows and studied
her, noting the bites and bruises, the scratches and swollen lips.
"What have I done to you?"

Sabrina chuckled and cuddled him to her
breasts. "Don't be silly. I'm not made of glass. You haven't done
anything that I haven't asked for."

"No, it's not right. A man doesn't hurt a
woman."

"I'm fine," she said. "Look, if you're going
to be a crybaby every time we have sex …" she teased.

"You want a 'tough guy' to have sex with, is
that it?" He took advantage of his position and rubbed his beard
against her hardening nipples.

"Well, I've never had one before and it is
kind of fun," she reasoned, arching an eyebrow.

"Posh girl comes to town, trolling for
trouble."

"No, rich girl comes to town to find boat. I
don't troll for men," she said, stiffening. "Does it really bother
you? The money?"

"Sabrina, it's never a problem for those who
have it."

She pushed him away. "Maybe I better go." She
lifted gracefully from the bed, and sorted through clothing and
sheets, looking for her underwear.

He rolled on his back and watched her with
distrust. "They're in the living room," he offered.

She glared at him, then stomped into the
living room. She returned a minute later, clad in her bra and
panties, her coat slung over her arm. "What is the matter with you?
Why do you want to pick a fight?"

When he didn't answer, she dropped her coat
and slithered up the bed, crawling on her hands and knees until she
covered him. Straddling him, she picked up his hands and placed
them on her hips. Slowly she moved against him. "Is this the only
way we can get along?"

He tugged at her hair until her lips were an
inch from his. "Make love, not war," she murmured as he gently
kissed her.

He proceeded to do just that: caressing her
weary body, whispering endearments against the soft skin of her
neck. His deep, drugging kisses put her in a stupor. For the next
hour, he made love to her with an aching tenderness, caressing her
until her soft sighs became breathless pants.

Sabrina felt adored as he held her, stroking
and kissing her to sweet abandon. She saw the sun's glow reflected
in his eyes and moaned his name softly, before his mouth covered
hers again. She wanted this, and more. Maybe this wild sexual
attraction could be love, she briefly wondered, then his body
covered her and he entered her slowly, deliberately. His steady,
measured strokes set the rhythm and, despite her attempts to
quicken the pace, he controlled their lovemaking. Tension building
steadily, she urged him deeper and yet deeper insider her.

Sabrina clung to him, begging for release,
covering his neck and chest with frantic kisses, but he refused her
pleas to accelerate. Her climax came in a quaking rush, tearing
through her with might that forced his release.

He feels it too
, she thought, as they
floated to earth, their mouths fused, their trembling arms wrapped
around each other.
Will he tell me?
She wondered.

* * *

With supreme effort, Sabrina opened her eyes.
Jay's alarm clock buzzed insistently. She pulled a pillow over her
head as he reached for the off button. She felt the bed sag as he
sat up, heard his feet thump against the floor.

She lifted the pillow. "Lover boy …" she
began in a soft, wheedling voice.

Jay looked at her amused. "Yes?"

"Will you get my bag of clothes?"

"Where is it?"

She stretched luxuriously. "Ummm. It's in my
car," she said, exhaling deeply. She licked her swollen lips then
burrowed into his pillow and closed her eyes.