The Second Time (15 page)

In sleep, Dawn lay on her stomach with her cheek burrowed into the pillow. Her hand felt its way across the bunk’s mattress to locate Slater, but the space beside her was empty. The information registered in her subconscious, prodding her awake.

Frowning sleepily, she turned her head and looked at the hollowed-out place where Slater had been sleeping. His head had left an impression in the pillow and the musky smell of him clung to the sheets.

Sunshine came through the portals, finishing the rousing process; Dawn rolled onto her back and pushed the copper hair away from her face as she listened intently for some sound of Slater moving about on the boat. When she heard his tuneless whistle, she smiled and pulled the light cover up, tucking it under her arms, conscious of the pleasantly rough sensation of cotton sheets against her naked skin.

A languid contentment seemed to have taken all the strength from her muscles, as well as any
inclination to leave the bed where she had enjoyed so much loving last night. Her smile deepened at the satisfying memory of it. Just thinking about it produced a little quiver of excitement.

She hugged the cover more tightly across her breasts and glanced at the gold wedding band that had joined the sapphire engagement ring on her finger. “Mrs. MacBride,” Dawn murmured, liking the sound of it and feeling like a giddy schoolgirl for trying it out.

Since Slater dominated the subject of her thoughts, her curiosity naturally ran to what he was doing. She could hear him whistling, but there wasn’t any sound of him moving about on deck. But there were odd thumps and clunks, and a soft scraping sound that puzzled her.

Between the wondering and the desire to be with him, she tossed back the light cover and swung out of the wide bunk. His white terry-cloth robe hung on a hook. Dawn hesitated, then slipped it on and tied the swaddling bulk around her. She glanced at her reflection in the oval mirror. The provocative gleam that entered her blue eyes indicated a satisfaction with the resulting look.

As she passed through the small galley, she noticed the pot of coffee on the stove and an empty cup sitting on the counter beside it. She stopped and poured a cup for Slater and one for herself before proceeding up the hatchway to the deck. Trying to keep an eye on the cups, she glanced around to locate Slater.

“Good morning?” She didn’t see him. “How about some coffee?” She wrinkled her nose as she caught the acrid smell of marine enamel.

“Good morning,” Slater answered.

When she glanced in the direction of his voice, Dawn saw him hanging over the side of the boat, secured by some sort of rope swing. She frowned curiously and started across the deck to see what he was doing. At the moment, all she could see was his head and the top part of his bare chest.

“What are you doing?” The paint smell grew stronger as she approached. “Is this any way to spend your honeymoon? Painting a boat?”

“You get away from here.” He motioned her backward with a wave of his paintbrush. “This is supposed to be a surprise, so you can’t look yet. I’ll be through in a minute.”

“A surprise?” Dawn halted, then took a couple of steps sideways to sit in a deck chair. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Slater countered with a smug little smile.

She was aware of his concentration, and the almost painstaking strokes he seemed to be making. “It looks like you’re writing something.” Her eyes widened at the conclusion that followed that. “Are you changing the name of the boat?”

“Clever girl,” he smiled.

A little thrill went through her, guessing that he must be naming it after her if it was supposed to be a surprise. “What if
Homesick
doesn’t like it?” she said, giving the boat an identity.

“She’ll have to like it,” Slater replied, “She doesn’t have any choice.”

“Your coffee is going to get cold if you don’t hurry,” she warned, nearly eaten up with curiosity herself.

He didn’t answer immediately as he concentrated on the last bit of lettering. Then a smile was breaking across his face. “All done.” He looked at her for an instant, then shifted his position to haul himself on board.

An invitation wasn’t required as Dawn set the coffee cups on the deck and hurried to the side. Slater was clad only in a pair of cutoff jeans, the legs frayed to form a rough fringe. His outstretched arm checked her haste.

“Careful,” he advised. “You don’t want to get any wet paint on you.”

His word of caution prompted her to look where she was putting her hands before she leaned forward to peer over the side. It took her a minute to read the lettering upside-down. There was a sudden rush of tears as she straightened and turned to Slater.

“The Second Time.”
Her voice choked on a bubble of emotion. “Oh, Slater.” Her chin quivered and she tried to laugh at her overly sentimental response.

“It is the second time—for us—and being together on a boat,” He quietly reinforced his choice with an explanation, and reached for her left hand, rolling his thumb across her wedding rings. “Only this time, it’s my ring you’re wearing in the morning.”

She wrapped her arms around his bare middle and hugged him close, resting her cheek against his flatly muscled chest and closing her eyes. “Thank you for
The Second Time.
It’s a wonderful wedding present for both of us.”

He tucked a hand under her chin and lifted it to kiss her mouth, with long, drugging warmth. When he finally raised his head, it was to lazily study her upturned face.

“I suppose you know how sexy you look in my robe,” he murmured and let his gaze trail downward to the gaping front and the exposed swell of her breasts.

Dawn started to deny any foreknowledge, then grinned saucily. “Yes.”

“Brazen hussy,” he accused mockingly and kissed her hard, then let her go. “I’ll have that cup of coffee now.”

“Tease,” she accused, but let him take her by the hand and lead her back to the deck chair, where he pulled one alongside of hers.

After they were seated with their respective cups in hand, their fingers stayed linked in loving companionship. All around them was stillness, the quiet lapping of water against the boat’s hull interrupted only by the distant cry of a bird.

The boat was anchored inside the entrance to a small sheltered cove of an uninhabited key away from the more frequently traveled water routes. Slater had sailed to it last night, so Dawn had seen little of it in the dark.

With a midmorning sun shining on its sandy
shore, she was taking her first good look at it. It seemed a tropical paradise with its blue waters and swaying palms. Although it appeared uninhabited at first glance, Dawn revised that opinion as she began noticing the variety of birds—long-legged herons, squatty white pelicans, and a roseate spoonbill, as well as a circling osprey.

“No wonder Audubon spent so much time in the Keys,” she murmured. “It’s teeming with exotic birdlife.” Turning her head, she glanced at Slater. “Why don’t we spend our honeymoon here instead of hopping around to other places? It’s so beautiful and peaceful.”

“We can.” He drained his coffee cup and set it on the deck. “Want to go for a swim before breakfast?”

“Sure.” She started to stand up. “Just give me a minute to change into my swimsuit.”

His fingers tightened their link with hers. “Why bother?” he challenged. “We’ve got the place all to ourselves so why not swim in the nude?”

“Why not? I will if you will,” she said with a little shrug and stood up. “Deal?”

“It’s a deal,” he agreed, but he was suspicious of the little gleam in her eyes.

“I’ll race you to the beach,” Dawn challenged. “Last one there has to cook breakfast.”

With a quick tug of the sash, the robe fell open and Dawn slipped out of it. Slater was still unzipping his cutoffs when she dove over the side and struck out for shore. The time it took
him to strip was the handicap she needed. Even though she was a strong swimmer, she was no match for Slater.

Even with the headstart, he nearly caught up with her. She waded onto the sand only two steps ahead of him. Breathless from the exertion, she collapsed onto the smooth sand and lay back on her elbows. Her blue eyes were sparkling with triumphant laughter that she didn’t have the wind to voice.

“You have to cook. . . breakfast,” she informed him between gulps for air.

“You cheated.” He dropped onto the sand beside her, breathing hard, water dripping from him.

“Now why should you complain because I can undress faster than you?” Dawn blinked her eyes at him with mock innocence. “I should think a man would be overjoyed about that.”

“You think so, eh?” Slater shifted to lean over her in a threatening posture.

But the leap of awareness in her senses was not caused by alarm. She lifted her chin to gladly take the kiss he pressed onto her mouth. The weight of his chest collapsed the support of her elbows, sinking her slowly backward on the sand, the wet, warmth length of his body stretching out alongside hers.

Her arms curved around him, a hand exploring the sinewed ridges of his backbone. When he dragged his mouth away, his gaze burned a look over her face and chest. She ran the tip of her tongue across her lips.

“You taste like salt,” she identified the briny substance that had moistened his kiss.

“So do you,” he murmured. “But I always did like the taste of salt on my food.” As if to prove it, he began to show her how much he enjoyed her salty flavor.

It was an idyllic time, hours lazily drifting into one another. They swam, fished, tramped the island, snorkeled, sun-bathed, and made love. If it weren’t for the nightly ship-to-shore calls they made to talk to Randy and for Slater to check with his office, it was as if they were isolated from the rest of the world.

In a bulky gray sweatshirt and a headband keeping the copper-red hair off her neck, Dawn gazed at the tranquil cove. A late afternoon sun had created a new pattern of shadows, which she studied, intent on memorizing the way it looked.

A pair of arms stole around her waist, but she knew their feel. Her hands gripped them and helped them to tighten their circle while she tipped her head to the side and give Slater free access to the curve of her neck.

“Mmm, delicious,” he murmured, nibbling on it. “Unfortunately—” he sighed, “—it doesn’t take the place of food. Let’s have an early dinner.”

Dawn carried his suggestion one step further. “Let’s build a fire on the beach and have a cookout.”

There was a short silence while he considered her suggestion. “Why not,” he agreed. “Get the
stuff together so we can load it into the rubber dinghy.”

After they got the food and utensils ashore, Slater gathered driftwood and built a fire while Dawn wrapped the potatoes, vegetables, and yellowtail fish in individual foil packets for roasting on the coals. The meal was ready in time for them to eat by the light of a lingering sun. Then they settled back with a cup of campfire coffee to watch the orange ball of flame sink into the ocean. The sunset splashed the sky with corals and pinks and lavenders.

A breeze stirred to life with the setting of the sun, cool as it came off the waters. The warmth from the flickering fire was just enough to ward off any chill. Dawn leaned back in Slater’s arms and used his chest for a pillow while she waited for the moonrise to silver the cove.

“That sunset was specially ordered,” Slater said, his breath stirring her hair as he tipped his head slightly down. “Did you like it?”

“It was beautiful,” she assured him, although by now her mind had begun wandering down another path, one far from the island. “How much do you think it would cost to lease one of those shops in Old Town?”

“I don’t know.” He sounded amused by her question from left field. “I imagine it would depend on a lot of things—the square footage of floor space, location, the condition of the building. Why?”

“I’ve been thinking about leasing some space, and opening a shop. My father makes some beautiful
things and I know they would sell if they were marketed right. Heaven knows, he has enough inventory in his garage to stock the place,” she added wryly.

Slater shifted to the side in order to better see her face. “I’m surprised. I always thought your father was too proud and stubborn to let someone else—even his daughter—provide the financing to set him up in business.”

“I wasn’t thinking of setting him up in business. I thought I’d operate the shop. Maybe my mother could work part-time in it.” She considered that possibility. “That way both of them would be earning some extra money to supplement their pension.”

“Why would you want to operate the shop?” There was a frown in his voice.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those husbands who believes a wife’s place is at home?” Dawn teased.

“The idea isn’t totally unpleasant,” he admitted dryly. “But that doesn’t answer my question.”

“It’s very simple. I want to earn some money. No woman wants to ask her husband for every penny of her spending money,” she defended her stand.

He chuckled in vague confusion, his chest moving under her head. “You’re worried about asking me for spending money?” He was amused by the thought. “What about the Lord family fortunes? There must be a moldy dollar or two lying around, doing nothing.”

She laughed, suddenly understanding why he was puzzled. “I forgot to tell you. Simpson didn’t leave me anything when he died. Oh, he did arrange for me to receive a yearly living allowance, but that stopped when I married you.”

“What?” It was a low, surprised question.

“It’s true,” she assured him. “I was told I could contest the will since I was legally his wife and I hadn’t signed any marriage contract that negated my claim to his estate. But it just didn’t seem to matter anymore.”

“Where did you get the money for the house?” he asked in that same slightly disbelieving voice.

“I sold all the jewelry Simpson had given me. He also set up a trust fund for Randy’s college education,” Dawn added. “So, at least, we won’t have to worry about that expense.”

“No.”

A pale, fatly shaped crescent moon rested above the horizon. “Look, there’s the moon.” She called Slater’s attention to it. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”