Magic Moment (7 page)

“I need to go back to the other room,” she muttered.

“Can you get back on your own?”

She nodded, sliding off the stool. Her legs were shaky and a sharp twinge gripped her.

His strong right arm went around her waist, supporting her slender frame. “I’ll take you.”

“You can’t leave the wheel.”

“For a bit, I can.” His free hand pressed a button, engaging the autopilot. The navigation device would regulate the boat for the few minutes he was away from the controls.

“Put your arms around my neck,” he said and clasped her hand.

She froze. Too many strange men had put their hands on her this evening.

A gentle smile passed over his face. “I’ll carry you.”

Chase was tall with the strong, enduring body of a marathon runner. She eyed him guardedly before sliding her arms around his neck and clasping her hands together.

With extreme care, he lifted her and carried her down the stairs. Her head dropped weakly against his shoulder. His arm squeezed around her waist, holding her close. Being in his arms wasn’t so bad, and she relaxed. Shutting her eyes helped ease the throbbing gnawing at her temples and his warm body soothed her.

When they reached the cabin, he lowered her feet to the floor. Her arms still clasped around his neck, Laura stared at the bed. She shook uncontrollably.

“What?” he asked.

Tangled, wrinkled white sheets glared at them, but Laura saw only the red spots. Blood, her blood, dried burgundy droplets that had dripped from her face onto the pillowcase; several smaller blotches covered the fitted sheet. A reminder of where the knife had sliced her stomach. She shuddered, burying her face against Chase’s shoulder. His arm went around her waist, pulling her into him. Laura didn’t shrink away.

“I can’t get back in that bed,” she whimpered.

His hand rubbed up and down her back until she ceased shaking. “I can change the sheets. There’s another set in the closet.”

His arm remained around her, and his free hand reached up, stroking her hair. Laura found an odd comfort in his touch.

“I’ll change the sheets, and you’ll feel better. Sit here.” He eased her down onto the hardback chair nestled between the desk and the wall.

The anxious pace of Laura’s heart returned to normal. After stripping the bed bare, Chase took a set of teal-colored sheets from the closet. He tossed the used bedding to the closet floor and remade the bed, adding a gray wool blanket and a navy quilt.

She stood. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled.

There was solace in his upturned lips, the way his blue eyes glimmered. Laura was being weak, and hated it. Feeling the shivers recur, she hugged herself. She needed to be brave and get into that bed.

As if running through a fire, she dove at the mattress. Chase drew up the covers, tucking them around her.

She looked up at him. “Where are you going?”

“Back to the controls. I want to get out of New Jersey. When we’re in Delaware waters, I’ll drop the anchor and catch a nap.” His smile echoed reassurance. “Everything will be okay, Laura. We’ll figure this out. Relax, and go to sleep.”

“Where will you sleep?” Her eyes drifted closed, exhaustion overwhelming her. She was asleep before hearing his answer.

The blazing sun pierced her eyes. Blinking against the brightness, Laura struggled to sit up, only to collapse into the soft mattress. Her body ached as if she had been sandwiched between two SUVs.

She took shallow breaths as her head cleared. No curtains or shades covered the three small windows, and sunshine lit the small room. The ocean’s ruffling waves and the birds’ tweeting filled the air. The boat wasn’t moving forward, but gently seesawing back and forth.

She pulled herself off the bed, kneading the kinks from her lower back and thighs. Her backside was sore from Chase having dropped her. She staggered, each hand massaging a buttock cheek. She opened the desk drawer, and saw the gun. Her eyes moved to the blood-covered knife, still in the plastic bag exactly where Chase had placed it. She slammed the drawer shut, and a jolt raced up her spine.

As she opened the cabin door, a pleasant, tangy sea breeze tickled her senses. Stiff limbs hindered her movements, but she climbed the stairs to the deck. The sun blazed in the clear blue sky. The boat teetered, alone, in a vast mass of water. A brisk chill nipped the air, and Laura hugged herself.

“Chase,” she called. No answer. She called his name again, this time her voice having an edge.

He wasn’t in the wheelhouse. She darted back down the stairs. If he had been moving around in the bathroom or “head” as he had called it, she would have heard him.

“Chase.” Panic gripped her. “Chase.”

Her heart pounding, she ran through the narrow corridor and stopped dead in the eating area. Propped up on the stool, he was asleep at the bar with a half-filled liquor bottle and an empty glass. His head rested on folded arms, his breathing deep. A laptop was also on the bar. The monitor was dark, but the yellow light blinked. Laura hit the space bar and print appeared on the screen. Several windows had been minimized.

Clicking on one minimized window, she skimmed the on-screen print and gasped, amazed at the words she read. She clicked another window and saw a search engine page. Chase had been reading articles on women who had been assaulted. Her eyes scanned the list of titles. He had wanted to understand, wanted to know how he could help her. From what she had observed of Chase in the last three years, she never guessed he had this sensitive, compassionate side to his personality. Her perception of Chase had been that of a friendly, but overindulged, self-absorbed playboy.

Who would have guessed?

She blanked the screen and walked gingerly to the stateroom. A hand slid in each of the sweatpants’ side pockets. Earlier Chase had given her the penknife and gun’s magazine, thinking she might have been afraid of him.

After seeing the computer monitor, she wasn’t afraid anymore, at least not of Chase. She returned the knife and gun’s magazine to the drawer, she slid into bed, and went back to sleep.

• • •

“Hey, my sleepy first mate.” Chase grinned as Laura entered the wheelhouse.

Dusk skimmed the sky. Having glided
Madre
into the marina, Chase aimed for an empty spot along the dock.

“You slept all day. I thought you planned on sleeping all the way to the Chesapeake.” He focused on maneuvering
Madre
between two boats that were tied to the dock and secure.

“I did get up for a little while. You were asleep in the kitchen, so I went back to bed.”

“Galley,” he corrected.

“What galley?”

“On a boat, it’s not a kitchen but a galley,” he replied with an easy smile. “If you’re gonna be a sailor, you have to know these things. Remember? A bedroom is a stateroom?”

“And the bathroom is a head. Gotcha.” Her lips twitched and she returned his grin.

She looked cozy wearing his sweats. The swelling around her eye area had eased, but the heavy bruises showed more profoundly.

Physically, Chase had always thought Laura a knockout. She generally wore her blonde hair loose and flowing. Her green eyes kind of gleamed whenever she smiled. Their working environment was casual, yet Laura always wore a dress. Chase never seemed to mind. The woman had one fine set of legs and he had a helluva good time watching those limbs whenever she walked from her desk to the photocopier. They never talked much unless conversation was about the warehouse or the weather. Chase didn’t encourage otherwise. If he did, and decided her personality matched her looks, he might forget his rule about not dating women who worked for his father.

His mood switched to concern. “I’m glad you were able to sleep. You needed it. Feeling better?”

She nodded. “Where are we?”

“The Delaware shore. We’ll dock here for the night. I thought you might have cabin fever, and we could go out for dinner. When was the last time you ate?”

She hesitated, then shrugged her shoulders. “Maybe lunch … yesterday … ”

“Well, you have to be hungry. We’ll take care of that.”

Last night, once assured that Laura was sleeping peacefully, Chase had spent hours searching the Internet for information on supporting an assault victim. Concern for Laura’s well-being forced him put aside the accusation that his father was involved in what had happened to her.

His reservations weren’t from doubting her words. Chase just found the idea of his father involved in a brutal crime difficult to believe. She had suffered a trauma. Her thoughts and feelings, Chase suspected, were a hodgepodge of confusion.

So while she had slept, Chase spent his time on the Internet … until he’d eventually had fallen asleep himself. He needed to know what she was dealing with emotionally. The articles he had read stated Laura might want to talk about being attacked. He disagreed. What good was rehashing? She had said she wanted to put the horror behind her, move on.

Still, he needed to try to make sense of last night. Chase decided in order to gain insight on what had happened, Laura needed to relax. What better way than a nice evening out?

She touched her bruised cheek. “Is going out a good idea? To be around others? We both look like we went two rounds with Rocky Balboa.”

“I found some things beneath the bar belonging to you.”

“What?”

“Your coat. Your desk items. Can anything in the box help?”

“My cosmetic case!” She paused, then frowned. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Her dress and undergarments, sliced to shreds, were also spotted with blood. Although Laura hadn’t mentioned or asked for them, Chase dropped them in a plastic trash bag and tucked them away in the back of the bedroom closet.

“I got you covered.” He slid from the stool. “Let me get this baby docked and settle with the office.”

When he returned from the marina office, Laura was in the galley, hunkered over the box. A pack of pantyhose lay on the bar, and she picked through her pink plastic cosmetic case like a child searching for all the red M&Ms.

“This is great! All my makeup. My comb. My toothbrush.”

“Why do you keep all that stuff in your desk?” he asked, not hiding his amusement, knowing the habit was probably a “girl” thing.

She continued digging in the case. “I like to be prepared. Brush my teeth after lunch. Mayonnaise leaves an awful aftertaste.” She wrinkled her nose.

He found the look captivating.

“And I like to fix my makeup before meeting my friends for drinks,” she added, then stopped shuffling through the case. She looked up, perplexed. “Why do you think they’re here? All my things?”

Chase’s lightheartedness faded. “I don’t know,” he lied. The box was probably headed over the side of the boat with her dead body. “But I’m glad I found it.”

“Me too.” She stood, hugging the plastic case.

He slid a long, flat box across the bar.

“What’s this?” she asked.

“Hopefully, everything will fit. It was a gift for a woman I dated a few years ago. Before I could give it to her, we stopped seeing each other. I was looking for my clothes in the closet and found it.”

Laura removed the lid and peeled back the white tissue paper. Her green eyes, a mixture of awe and joy, stared at the contents. She ran a hand across a pair of black silk slacks and a red cashmere/silk blend boat-neck sweater.

“Chase, how lovely.”

He was happy she liked the clothes. “Check the sizes.”

She glanced at the tags. “The slacks will be a trifle big, but I can manage with safety pins. The sweater’s perfect.” She smiled, her green eyes twinkling. “You have excellent taste.” Her expression turned pensive. “I’m sorry you and your girlfriend didn’t work out.”

Chase had met Rhonda in a bar. While spending a few days together, she had admired the outfit in a store window. An impulse purchase, he later decided against giving it, afraid that gifts gave the wrong impression of their relationship. She had been a woman he wanted to pass time with, and nothing more.

“She wasn’t actually my girlfriend. And I’m glad you like the clothes.”

An anxious joggle shook his stomach, a jolt not from hunger either. He couldn’t wait to see Laura wearing the outfit.

They both showered, changed, and Laura masterfully applied the liquid concealer to her bruises. Her honey gold hair cascaded around her shoulders. The slacks and sweater complemented her slender frame, the silk clinging, outlining her curves perfectly. She wasn’t wearing a bra. Even if she had one to wear, she didn’t need it. He had noticed how firm her breasts were as she sat in her slip and he tended to her bruises.

Her perfect body had Chase fighting off some familiar stirrings. He focused on her face. With her golden hair, green eyes as dazzling as a precious emerald, and a rosy glow to her cheeks, Laura was one stunning woman.

He had dressed in navy trousers and a navy and white-striped sports shirt. He declined her dab of concealer around his black eye. Men should have battle bruises.

A light, misty breeze blew from the bay as they walked along the pier.

“Do you like seafood?” he asked.

“Love it.”

“Me, too. I know just the right place.”

Chase’s restaurant choice,
ShipBottom
, was a good one. Crowded with patrons,
ShipBottom
was a small, homey family-type establishment, brightly lit with palm tree centerpieces on the white cloth-covered tables.

Chase ordered a bottle of white wine. They began their meal with seafood chowder, their conversation sprinkled with childhood reminiscences of summer vacations.

“I was so little when my father died.” She crumbled crackers into her bowl. “My only clear memories of him are the amusement rides. We went round and round on the Ferris wheel for hours.” Fondness nipped her tone.

“How old were you when he died?” He lifted the spoon to his lips.

“Seven.”

Aware that Laura was in her late twenties, losing a father that early in her life was like not having had a father at all.

“After he died, my mother did her best to talk about him.” She stirred the crackers in her bowl. “If we were baking cookies, she would say, ‘Daddy loved chocolate chip.’ I thought our conversations were so that I wouldn’t forget him. As I got older, I realized our talks were so that she wouldn’t.”