Ten Good Reasons (8 page)

“Officers, sorry.” He shaded his eyes.

“Put your hands above your head!”
The officer’s voice came fast and excited, now directed at Evan.

Evan complied, stepping in front of Lia. “I can explain. . . .” he told the beam of light.

*   *   *

A half hour later, Lia and Evan sat side by side beneath a bright floodlight Evan had thrown on for the deck.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Cinderella shiver, and another flash of self-loathing went through him. How had he managed to jack up another woman’s life in such short order? He needed to just stay on his damned boat and head back out to sea. He wasn’t fit for civility.

The harbor patrol officers clicked their pens and put away their clipboards. They were about to let him and Cinderella go. The fact that Evan’s last name matched the registered owner’s name (“Yes, he’s my brother.”), and that Drew was apparently friends with the harbormaster did wonders. As did the fact that Evan had the ignition keys, Cinderella had a galley key, Evan still had a Coast Guard card in his wallet, and Cinderella had a business card with her name and
“The Duke”
on it. It all made their story aboveboard enough for the harbor patrol. The officers inspected the galley, found the first-aid kit
and missing bandage on her foot, saw the open cot, matched it with Evan’s just-had-sex look—the only part of the story he had to fake—and seemed satisfied.

He felt bad about the just-had-sex thing—as bad as he did for Cinderella’s shivering in the late night, her drop-dead fatigue, and her massively swelling ankle. But, from his own Coast Guard days, he knew that it was a common story for why people were caught on vessels late at night. The sympathetic and knowing glance from the youngest officer let him know it worked. Cinderella didn’t seem to notice. And it sure beat having the harbor patrol call Drew. And it sure
as hell
beat the real reason he was here: Tommy Two-Time had shown up this evening, looking wasted and in need of a fix, and Evan was sorry he’d given out Drew’s boat information. He’d shooed Tommy away, but something in the way he’d lingered, eyeing Evan as he jiggled the difficult galley-door lock, had made Evan nervous. The last thing he needed was to get Drew’s boat robbed.

“Okay, you guys can go,” the youngest one said, flicking his flashlight back and forth between them.

Cinderella squinted silently.

“Ya’ got a place to stay?” He directed that at Evan.

“Yep.”

The officer slid a glance toward Cinderella. It must have been her sullen glare that made him look back at Evan dubiously. “Ya’ sure?”

“Yep.”

Evan didn’t dare look at her. He’d find a place. The officers would walk them both out of the marina right now, past the locked gate, but he could find a cheap motel nearby. He’d be caught for sure if he used his marina key to get back in to his own slip right now. But now that the harbor patrol had its eye on this boat, it would be safe from Tommy Two-Time.

“All right, let’s go,” the officer said.

Evan stood. Cinderella looked a little panicked. “He wants to walk us out,” he mumbled, helping her up. “Lean on me.”

She stiffened, but she was at a point now where she couldn’t help it. That ankle had turned black and blue. And she looked exhausted and all-around beaten down. Even more than she had when she first stepped into the galley tonight, which was really saying something.

Evan was probably the only person in the universe who could bring down such an overly sunny woman—it must be a talent of his. He mentally swore at himself, then pulled her weight slightly onto his so he could get her off the boat. He resolved to ignore the feeling of her soft hair falling around his collarbone.

Next step, for sure, was to get out of her life.

*   *   *

Lia leaned into Evan. She didn’t want to be weak but his bolstering body felt so good. Her head lolled against his firm chest, and she could feel his biceps bulge against her shoulder blade. She had an incredible urge to turn around and strip off his shirt so she could see that chest one more time.

They followed the officer up the dock ramp. The jazz guitarist at the restaurant had quit and the twinkle lights had gone out. The few people who were still out glanced at her being walked out of the marina like some kind of perp. She hoped they were tourists and not Sandy Cove residents, or this news might be all over town the next day. She just wanted to get home and into her pajamas.

At the top of the ramp, Evan let go. She realized her arms had slipped around his torso like octopus tentacles.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

“No need.” He cleared his throat.

The officer asked a few more questions, verified they both had a place to go, then left them at the top of the marina parking lot.

“So where are you going to stay?” she asked.

“I’ll find a place. Which car is yours?” He was already scouting the lot.

“
Where
are you going to find a place? And how are you going to get there?”

“Let’s just get you home.”

“Look.” She stepped in front of him to stop his trajectory. He looked tired. He’d had a long day, too, helping her and Drew. She was swept with gratitude, and made an effort to focus on that instead of her rampant lust. “I can see you don’t like having people fuss over you. But why don’t you stay at my place?”

As soon as the offer was past her lips, she questioned its wisdom. Her skin was prickling with awareness of him now, especially the way he was looking down at her through the dark, with a testosterone-driven sort of protectiveness. She had read that look as attraction, perhaps, but now she could see he was probably just the kind of guy who felt protective of everything in his sphere. The whole Coast Guard thing and all. But it was translating into something her body found attractive, much to her surprise. She’d always been one of those women who rolled her eyes at muscle-bound men who acted like they needed to save damsels in distress—
Cinderellas
. She didn’t need a man to save her. But her body clearly had a mind of its own where this one was concerned. And having him too nearby was not going to be a smart move from here on out. But, on the other hand, she couldn’t just leave him here in the parking lot.

“Or I could bring you to Drew’s?”

“No,” he said. “I can find a motel.”

“Sandy Cove doesn’t have very many motels, but there is one up by the freeway; I can drive you.”

He considered that for a second. It was the first suggestion that didn’t make him frown. “Okay. But I’ll drive
you
. You can put that foot up for a minute.”

The dark cab of her little Dodge felt as claustrophobic as Drew’s galley as Evan hunched his shoulders and adjusted the seat. He drove slowly in the direction she pointed.

“You look a little uncomfortable,” she said.

He peered out the windshield at the motel sign, which suddenly loomed through the dark. “It’s been a while.”

“Driving?”

He pulled into the parking lot, his mouth quirking up. “Yes, driving. What did you think I meant?”

“I just meant . . . yes, driving.” Heat rose up through her cheeks.
Driving
. Of course she meant that.

“You sure you’ll be okay getting home?” he asked gruffly, pulling up on the emergency brake.

“I’ll be fine.” At this point, she just wanted to be in her bed. Alone. With her thoughts. And Missy. And maybe a bottle of wine.

He waited next to the driver’s door for her to hobble all the
way around the car and get settled behind the wheel, readjusting the seat, then he leaned against the top of the door and stared down at her. The warmth of his taking-care-of-you attitude tried to settle around her again, but some inner strength helped her shove it aside. She couldn’t be attracted to this kind of man.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow at nine,” she mumbled into her steering wheel, waiting for him to close the door.

“I’ll take a cab.”

“No, I’ll get you.” She reached for the handle and wrestled the door from underneath him.

Her wheels screeched out of the parking lot.

CHAPTER

T
he next morning, Lia’s tires thunked over the old asphalt toward the Spanish-tiled Sandy Cove Motel. She turned the car off, then ran her hands down her white pants and took a deep breath. The brightness of the morning cast a sense of realism that had been missing last night, seeming to enlighten the situation now. After a good night’s sleep, the events of yesterday—not to mention her rampant attraction—seemed positively absurd. She had had a stern talking-to with herself this morning as she got out of the shower.
No more crushing on Evan.
It was silly. She was just missing Forrest, and maybe feeling too much nearness to Evan on a boat all day. But whatever it was, it was going to stop.

Satisfied with her pep talk, she swung her door open just as a figure in faded blue jeans sauntered toward her through the morning mist. It took her a second to recognize him. Clean-shaven, Evan had slicked his hair back—revealing two bladed cheekbones; a strong, set jaw; and, as he approached the passenger side, eyes that were rimmed in dark lashes. And were clearly blue, not gray. They took her in with something that looked like embarrassment.

“Don’t say anything,” he mumbled, crawling into the car.

He tossed in two packages that he had been balancing in each hand—heavy enough to make the veins in his forearms pop where his white shirtsleeves were rolled up. But she could hardly take her eyes off his newly revealed face: such pretty eyes, such a full bottom lip, and—heaven help her—a
dimple
on the left side of his cheek that appeared when he shot her that grin of embarrassment.

When he glanced her way, she diverted her attention into one of the bags. A fire extinguisher head popped out of one, and the other appeared to have a full first-aid case in it.

“Restocking,” he said, slamming the door. His eyes went straight to her foot. “How is it?”

“I re-wrapped it,” she managed to get out. “And it does feel better.”

He gave a curt nod. A strand of hair dropped over his cheekbone again. The dimple threatened as he seemed to fight back a smile, avoiding her eyes.

“Why did you shave?” She could hear the gaga factor in her voice, but her mouth had a mind of its own. So much for the pep talks.

“Saw an old acquaintance of mine yesterday evening, before you came, and he reminded me what a drug addict looked like. I thought I might be coming close.”

She started the car, forcing herself to look away.
No crushing on Evan
. For the first time, she wondered if he’d ever been married. He obviously wasn’t married
now
—no ring, and that sailboat cabin didn’t look like something that had ever had a woman’s touch. But now, seeing how handsome and almost vulnerable he was under all those layers, she could see a woman swooning for him.

But pep talk number thirty-six:
No crushing
. Asking him now if he’d ever been married would just solidify her slide.

Lia revved the engine and pulled out of the parking lot. This day might not be as easy as she’d hoped.

*   *   *

The sea was choppy under gray skies, and Evan was glad for Drew’s good taste in motors. The wind whipped about as he carted their first tourists out, keeping his eye on the incoming clouds. He figured the tours could continue until about four,
then the rain might drive them back to the marina. From his own experiences around these parts as a child, he knew that song was true: It never rained in California; it
poured
. Especially in February. For now, he’d just look for whales and enjoy Cora’s coffee.

He had come up with an excuse to send Cinderella to the marina when they arrived so he could inspect the vessel before they boarded. It didn’t look like Tommy had been around. Having the harbor patrol on high alert after they’d left last night was a good thing. But it was reckless of him to have called Tommy. He’d put Drew’s boat in danger, and possibly even a woman—it hadn’t occurred to him she might come back for something on the boat. What the hell was becoming of him? A year or two of depression was one thing, but losing his touch was another. He’d finally decided to shave and clean up his act, at least for the next four days. And no more drinking. If he was going to help Drew, he’d do it right.

Mollified that Tommy hadn’t been around, he’d helped Cora and Cinderella do a quick opening. Cora landed into the galley and stared at the opened cot as if she’d never seen it before. Evan stepped around her to raise and lock it. Cinderella had blushed for some reason.

Neither deckhand had shown up, which sucked, but apparently Stewey had called and said he could make it tomorrow. And Douglas was going to make it back from Las Vegas. So there was that. Things were looking up. Now Evan just needed Cinderella to find another captain.

“Coffee?” Cora asked.

“Did anyone ever tell you that you make the best coffee on the West Coast, Cora?” he asked.

“Did anyone ever tell
you
that you look like a male model?”

A rusty laugh escaped his throat. Renece had. It was a nice thing to hear when you were a twentysomething biology geek, but it wasn’t anything he cared about now. “Somehow I think your skills will take you much farther in life than my looks ever did.”

“I don’t know,” Cora said, getting out her French press. “We’ll probably get great tips today.”

He broke a smile again and headed up to check the fuel. Cinderella was setting up the blue cushions.

She’d said she’d be “allowed” to call Drew tomorrow to discuss hiring another captain, which didn’t make much sense to him—the “allowed” part—but he didn’t press. Something told him he didn’t need to know more than that—whatever her and Drew’s relationship was, it was between them, and he wasn’t going to cross any lines there.

But when she mentioned visiting Drew at home after Wednesday, he had mulled that over. Maybe he would, too. Not with her, but right after. Sometime before he left. This help he was providing was a peace offering, but a good man-to-man talk was in order. As was an apology.

He took his place behind the helm and did a quick check on all the gauges.

“Are we ready for the passengers to board?” Her voice came from behind him.

“Ready.” He focused his attention back on the console. His head was clearer today, and he was ready to do his job. He wasn’t going to let Cinderella distract him today, or her lips, or even those white pants she was wearing that gave him a sweet glimpse of a light-pink thong band when she squatted down to reach one of the cleats. And he was definitely going to forget about that dream he’d had about her last night. It had started out as a dream about Renece, which didn’t alleviate any of his guilt right now. Then Renece had turned into a whale, or some such eff-ed up, dreamlike thing, and then Cinderella had ended up on the cot with him in Drew’s boat, first wearing some bright yellow Hazmat suit, and then letting him strip it off her, running his fingers down every exposed strip of white skin, and the whole thing was very hot except for all the guilt he felt this morning. He probably should’ve been the one blushing when they’d lifted the cot today.

But he was forgetting about all of that.

Today was clearheaded business.

Focus
.

He was relieved her ankle was better. Another slight guilt he could let slip away. She went back downstairs to attend to the guests while he got ready to pull away, then he dropped to the lower deck to cast off the lines.

A half hour later, the American flag was snapping above his head and the blue paper on his console was rippling in the
wind. He secured it under a different lever. It was a picture of Valentine, the humpback whale the community was looking for. He remembered her from his Coast Guard days down in San Diego. Her appearance every year had become legend, her heart-shaped tail often showing up right around Valentine’s Day. He remembered taking Renece and Luke out to see her one year when Luke was five. They’d packed a lunch and set out on the sailboat he’d rented for the day. Luke had brought along his notebook and crayons so he could “draw” the whale’s tail when he spotted her. They’d spent a whole afternoon looking, and finally saw a few other vessels in the distance, hanging. Sure enough, Valentine spouted then, along with her calf, and Luke got busy with his little crayons. The picture Luke drew that day was still in Evan’s drawer on his boat. It was one of the few things he’d kept when he’d sold everything and bought the sailboat to flee.

Evan pinned the blue paper more securely, Valentine’s bent tail visible, and steered northwest.

After another mile out, something caught his eye through the binoculars. He started to signal, but paused, wanting to make sure he was seeing what he was seeing. . . .
Damn . . .
He pulled up farther, wondering why no other boats were around, but a huge slick was clearly up ahead of them. Much bigger than for grays. Once he was sure, he sent three clicks.

“Are you seeing something already?” Cinderella asked, pulling herself up to the deck.

“I think we’ve got a blue,” he said, not taking his eyes off the slick.

She scrambled for the microphone.

“Just explain the slick and tell everyone ten o’clock. I want to be sure,” he said.

She dutifully gave the narration, but then, just as he suspected, the huge animal—the largest mammal on Earth—broke the surface and spouted. He could hear the crowd gasp, and everyone moved to the side of the cat.

He couldn’t help but smile. The smile came from a place that seemed like it hadn’t been tapped in a long time, somewhere deep and pure, somewhere that reminded him there was still joy and majesty on Earth, in quiet places like this.

“Blues are the largest mammals that ever lived,” he
mumbled over his shoulder. “Baleen. Usually travel alone.” He steered carefully so as not to get in the blue’s path, and then realized there was a calf.

Cinderella excitedly added that to her narration as Evan navigated the boat.

“This is early for the blues,” he added. “They usually travel in the summer.”

The whale and her baby kept pace alongside them, traveling about twelve miles an hour. They spouted every now and then, and Evan could hear the clicks of cameras below and the excited squeals of kids. He thought about how much Luke would have loved to have seen another blue. His knuckles ached as he gripped the console. Sometimes the pain was so sharp. But Cinderella spoke then and brought him out of the dark.

“How big do they get?” She had a book in her lap, but the wind whipped the pages all around, along with her yellow hair.

“Seventy, eighty, ninety feet. Almost a football field. This mother’s close to eighty, I’d say. Baby’s about twenty, twenty-five.”

The whales stayed close to the surface, making them easy to see, and then slowed. Evan kept a safe distance and brought his motor down. The sun broke through the clouds, casting diamonds across the gray water.

Then, to his surprise, the mother turned and came straight toward the cat, dipping gracefully and twisting her body. Evan couldn’t help but suck in his breath. The crowd downstairs oohed as she rotated just beneath the surface, changing the water to light blue, then blue green, showing off her belly, then disappearing into a glide just feet from the boat. The children on the lower deck squealed and ran to the other side. Evan and Cinderella, too, turned to watch her engage in her underwater ballet. As the whale skimmed the surface on the starboard side, she seemed to be watching them, then dove into a curve that was incredibly graceful for an eighty-foot body.

“Watch for the tail,” Evan whispered.

The whale’s slow descent caused the tail to take a while to flip, but when it did, the crowd below cheered, and cameras clicked. The baby followed.

Evan took a deep breath and sat back against his chair.

Remembering his dream last night, with Renece as the whale, he had a lump in his throat.

*   *   *

The second tour of the day went as smoothly as the first, despite the rougher waters. Although they didn’t find the blue again, they spotted two more grays and one humpback. But Lia would never forget that blue. Having the largest mammal on Earth float right underneath their little boat had been surreal.

After the last of the passengers was gone, she, Cora, and Evan cleaned up the deck and galley. The skies were a dark gray now, lined with ominous clouds, and the squawk of seagulls was decidedly absent. It felt like storm weather.

Lia pushed her hair out of her eyes, turned into the wind, and split the tip money. She handed Cora hers.

“Told ya’,” Cora said to Evan, holding up her fistful of bills.

His dimple came out in full force as he stowed the last line. An embarrassing pang of jealousy shot through Lia that Cora could make Evan smile like that. He hadn’t smiled once to her that way, or laughed at a single thing she said, or seemed generally happy to be around her. In fact, he seemed to avoid her as best he could.

Not that she should complain. It made her plan easier, of course, to stop her schoolgirl giddiness and focus on the work at hand.

But still. It was a little disappointing.

And she was just pathetic. . . .

“Lia!”

She whirled around to see Kyle Stevens approaching the boat with his two bodyguards, or business associates, or whoever they were. He looked fabulous—he always did. He had thick, blond hair, neatly combed, that almost glowed against the gray background, and a trim figure, which was usually draped in some kind of Italian-cut suit. Today he showed off a pair of khaki trousers and an expensive-looking shirt that had hand embroidery up the sides. This was the kind of man Lia
should
be attracted to.

“Mr. Stevens.” She smiled politely.

“You
have
to call me Kyle.”

He leaned forward and gave her a European air-kiss, which she usually found pretentious. For him, though, she cut extra slack.

“Kyle, then.”

She ushered the three of them aboard, and offered them soft drinks from the galley, wishing she’d thought to bring wine and cheese from Mr. Brimmer’s store.

“You don’t have anything harder?” Kyle asked. “I want to celebrate.”