Riding the Storm. Joanne RockЧитать онлайн книгу.
that stuff she’d dreamed had seemed so real. In theory, she should simply accept her fantasies as a wake-up call to indulge her needs as a female more often, and perhaps work a bit less. That would be the grown-up, well-adjusted-woman’s reaction. But who was so well adjusted that she could ignore memories of a hot guy undressing her—inch by slow inch—with his teeth? She suspected she’d blush ten shades of pink when she saw him.
Switching off the water, she reached for a towel and dried herself, wondering how to ignore her unwise interest in Keith. The man surely ran in the same circles as her parents, or at the very least would recognize her family name. Would he know about her scandalous past if she’d introduced herself as Josie Davenport instead of Josie Passano? She’d taken her mother’s maiden name after the congressman scandal, glad to formalize her departure from the trust-fund lifestyle that she’d been raised in. She’d stayed out of the society pages for three years while she’d built the new business, letting Marlena attend any work-related events that might attract a tabloid element. The last thing Josie needed was to have her past dragged back out for the world to see before she made her interior design business a success with the regional TV show deal.
And, guaranteed, being seen around New York or Boston with someone like Keith would land her back in the spotlight she needed to avoid.
Yet for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like making the smart choice professionally. As she put on the navy T-shirt Keith had given her the night before, along with her own jeans, she acknowledged that she wanted to live out all the things she’d dreamed about with him. What her subconscious didn’t seem to comprehend was that she would find a man to have a fling with, and let off a little steam. Really, she would. But Keith should not be that guy.
She towel dried her hair and dredged up some lip gloss and moisturizer from her purse. When she looked halfway presentable, and wasn’t actively fantasizing about Keith’s mouth on her…
Whoops.
Trying again to clear her mind, she shoved her other clothes in an empty grocery sack she’d found folded in a bathroom drawer. Taking the sack and her purse with her, she wound her way through the quiet salon and galley toward the companionway, where daylight spilled down into the lower level.
Voices above drew her attention.
“Keith?” she called, stepping up the first stair.
Who could he be speaking to in the middle of the sea? Had the Coast Guard come to check on them after their radio call last night?
“Morning.” Keith appeared at the top of the stairs, freshly shaved. Dressed in faded gray cargo shorts and a white polo shirt layered over a white T-shirt, he looked clean and…delicious.
She felt her cheeks warm and knew a blush had colored her skin from the roots of her hair to her neckline. Damn it.
At least she’d gotten it out of the way, right?
“Good morning.” Stepping up onto the main deck, she discovered they weren’t anchored out in the middle of nowhere anymore. “I see you did some sailing while I was sleeping again.” The boat—the Vesta, he’d called it—was already docked on the little island of Nantucket. She’d been there enough times to recognize the south wharf with the rows of gray, cedar-sided cottages lining nearby docks.
Gentle waves rocked their sailboat in time with all the other watercraft in nearby slips. The view, while pretty, made her realize she wouldn’t have been any better at discerning one vessel from another in the light of day. Now, if they redid their sails in purple paisley or muted floral chintz, she’d be all set.
And, yikes, didn’t that sound like something her mom would say, martini glass in hand as she strolled around the deck?
“I woke up early and figured you would just as soon be docked when you opened your eyes. I pulled into the marina about half an hour ago.” He took the bag of clothes and settled it on a seat cushion near the helm.
As a warm breeze lifted her damp hair off her shoulders, she noticed he’d already relocated her design books to the same canvas bolster.
So eager to be rid of her? Disappointment outweighed her relief that a separation would ensure no one resurrected her old scandal by photographing them together.
“Then I won’t keep you.” She dug in her purse for her business cards. “I’m sure you’re anxious to get under way on your trip, and I’m sorry to have slowed you down.” Finding the sterling silver case, she handed him a card.
Frowning, he took the cream-colored linen stock bearing the logo that Marlena had designed as one of her first projects as an intern.
“I’m in no hurry.” He tucked the card into the pocket of his shorts. “In fact, I’d hoped to buy you breakfast by way of apology for the, uh…accidental kidnapping. I figure if I can bribe you with eggs and sausage, you’ll be less likely to press charges.”
Pleasure warmed her to her toes while she weighed the probability of anyone recognizing Keith in Nantucket. While she debated the question, a young family pulled a big powerboat into the slip beside them. A boy and a girl—both knee-high and dressed in navy-and-white-striped T-shirts—waved from either side of their mother, while their dad steered the craft into place. “I am hungry,” Josie admitted. “But I’m afraid I’m just as guilty as you, since I was the trespasser last night. If anything, I should probably be buying you breakfast.”
Or dinner, maybe, after an afternoon of acrobatic sex that left them both ravenous. The thought heated her cheeks again, warming her all over in spite of the mild sea breeze. Now why had she said that? Sharing a meal in public with him was a risky proposition at any time. Hadn’t she promised herself she was done dating guys who attracted tabloid interest? She had no desire to dredge up her “party-girl” past, after working hard to bury that image.
Although she couldn’t help but be miffed that she’d earned the rep without any of the fun it implied. She’d networked her butt off on those nightclub outings, pitching her fashions to the social elite. She’d hoped to catch a few trendy clients who didn’t mind taking a risk on a new designer. One of her few impulsive moves during that time had been a kiss in a back alley with a cute guy who’d flirted with her relentlessly. All the other pictures the media had gathered to create the “party-girl” montage had been from her rebellious teenage years, before she’d channeled her energies into productive creativity.
“Hmm. I don’t think any judge would see much of a threat in a five-foot trespasser bearing fifty pounds of design swatches.” Keith hopped out onto the dock to help the speedboat owner with the young family tie his craft to a cleat. “But how about we debate it over coffee?”
He flashed white teeth, his easy charm drawing her toward him in spite of herself.
“I’m five foot three, actually.” Leaving her books behind, she stepped onto the dock, while the kids in the striped shirts and their mom came closer to the bow to watch Keith tie the line. “And I happen to have great aim with a can of Mace, although since I was drugged at the time, I probably didn’t pose much danger.”
Finishing the knot, Keith reached up to give each of the preschoolers a high five. Turning to Josie, he held out his arm.
“Are you ready?”
Her heart sped foolishly, even as she told herself they were only sharing a couple of eggs in the most out-of-the-way restaurant she could find. One meal together and she’d head for home.
“Absolutely.” Ready to battle the unwise attraction long enough to thank him for delivering her safely to shore, she dropped her fingers into the crook of his elbow.
This would be like any other friendly networking meeting, she told herself. But as her skin tingled from that small, casual touch, Josie feared her body was ready to betray her good intentions at the slightest provocation.
AN HOUR OF BREAKING BREAD with Josie had yielded a wealth of useful information about her. They hadn’t found a restaurant still serving breakfast at noon, so they’d settled for