Your Wish Is My Command (13 page)

Just then they hit what felt like a boulder. Sebastien immediately pulled Jamie against his chest and grabbed the wheel. He saw nothing in front of them as the prow of the boat lifted, then came smashing down.

Jamie struggled hard in his embrace. “What in the hell are you doing?” She pushed his arms back. “Let go of the wheel!”

She took back control of the boat and swung them smoothly around so they hit the other wake with nothing more than a mere bump.

“I'm sorry,” he said, still a bit shaken. “I thought we'd struck something.”

“We did—a wake.” She pointed starboard to the boat rapidly disappearing from view, a big wake streaming behind it. “It's called wake jumping. Didn't you see it coming?”

He'd been watching her—again. “Is it supposed to feel as if all one's bones are being dashed against the bottom of the boat?”

She laughed. “Well, I've never heard it put exactly that way, but it's as good a description as any.”

“And you find this sport … entertaining?”

She throttled down and brought the boat to a smoother cruising speed that allowed them to talk without shouting. “In hydroplaning, you get used to
beeing dashed about. So for me, yes, I guess this is fun. Sort of keeps you used to the abuse.”

Sebastien could only shake his head. “Abuse for the sake of entertainment.”

“Oh, and I suppose you'll tell me now that you've never woken up stiff and sore and considered it payment due for the fun you had the day before.”

Now he found a grin. “Well, there have been nights of sport that left me sore, if not stiff.”

It amazed him how easily she flushed for a woman with such a degree of cynicism, especially toward men. He tucked that revelation away for later pondering. It was very likely a clue that would help him discern the type of man he would be hunting when the time came to match her soul.

The sudden vision of her laughing and soaring over the open water with another man gave him a very unpleasant twinge in the vicinity of his heart. He also remembered all too vividly how she'd felt in his hands, how her lithe body had arched into his when he'd tried to save her from certain death moments ago—even if she had been trying to get away from him at that moment. And yet his body had roared to life once again.

“Would you like to take a hand at the wheel?”

He nodded absently, not really paying attention. What he needed was to take a woman—any woman, at this point—to bed. His body was obviously so starved for the feel of soft, feminine skin that it was willing to react to any stimulation.

Yes, that was it exactly. As soon as they docked and returned to the Quarter, he'd seek out that lively little waitress from the other afternoon. There. He felt much better now.

Which made it only marginally easier to ignore the surge that rocketed through him when she took his
hands and positioned them on the wheel and the throttle.

“Squeeze like this, then push it up like this to open her up. Down and release to slow. I think you can figure out the rest. She handles like a dream.”

Pushing, squeezing, handling. He wanted to groan in frustration. Avoiding eye contact, he moved into position and took over the controls.

Moments later all his frustrations fled as he had them soaring across the lake. There was a deep rush of sound, and only belatedly he realized it was laughter. His own laughter.

He couldn't recall ever feeling such a rushing sensation of freedom. Of pure joy.

Just then he felt her fingers squeeze his arm, and when he looked into her shining eyes, something passed between them that he couldn't name. But he felt it. There was no denial crafty enough to avoid the simple truth: In that moment they forged a bond of understanding—of something even deeper, perhaps. She understood the elemental passion for the water that ran through him; it was a passion that coursed through her veins just the same.

He could see her, then, as the pirate queen she'd wished to be as a child. And a damn good one she'd have made too.

She turned back to the water. Reluctantly, so did he. Had she felt as rocked by their connection as he? He was afraid to look at her and find out.

He almost laughed at that. Afraid? That alone would normally have provoked him to do it just to conquer the fear. And yet he could not.

“Clouds are blowing up. We're going to have an afternoon squall. We'd better take her in.” He nodded and turned the boat around. They said nothing as he guided them back, and he silently
handed the controls over to her as they neared the buoy marking their way to the docks.

She seemed to accept the silence, perhaps wanting it herself, and quietly maneuvered them to the rental slip they'd left what now seemed like another lifetime ago. At least to him.

He moved to the prow and grabbed the line, expertly catching the pulley as she moved into the slip. She shut down and leapt to the dock to finish tying them up. Sebastien pretended not to see her outstretched hand and levered himself up onto the dock. Touching her at the moment—any moment—would have ripped away his last pretense of self-control.

“Thank you for the ride.” It was all he could do to get that much out. His voice almost shook, and no amount of tale-telling would make him believe it was some latent reaction to several hours of boat vibrations.

But there were no words to describe to her what their trip had meant to him. And if he so much as tried, he'd likely only disgrace himself somehow. He avoided looking directly at her and mentally willed her to begin the trek back to the boathouse.

Of course, she didn't. Irritating woman.

She tilted her head to one side. “You enjoyed it.”

She'd made it a statement, so he felt perfectly within his rights to merely nod in agreement of her assessment.

“Would you like to go out again? Sometime?” Her straightforwardness faltered a bit on that last part.

The uncertainty surprised him. Good, he thought uncharitably. Then he wasn't the only one feeling a bit disconcerted.

“I think we'd better head for your automobile if we're to escape this storm.”

The dark clouds had scudded very quickly inland, obliterating the sun. She didn't press him on her of-
fer. She seemed almost … relieved. He wasn't sure how he felt about that either. Was she so relieved to not have to be in his intimate company again? Naturally he should have felt similar relief. The confusion arose because he felt nothing of the sort.

They made it to the car in record haste. She paused at the driver's side door. “I'd offer to teach you how to drive, but maybe we'll save that feat for another day.”

Another day. With her.
Yes
,his heart sang.
No!
his common sense interjected. What the devil was wrong with him? And yet the wicked smile rose to his lips in blatant disregard of common sense. “If we yet survive your defiance of death on the ride home.”

She laughed then, and all felt right in his world.

Now all he had to do was fold his body into the tiny contraption and survive the careening ride home without allowing himself to come in contact with her.

Maybe he'd just walk. It would take him only the better part of the day—and night. In a raging storm.

He looked at the car and at her, and actually had to debate the choices.

But then she was in the car, flinging open his door from the inside and smiling up at him in that way she had. Part invitation, part challenge.

And he did love a challenge.

He sighed and shook his head—then folded himself into the car.

J
amie arrived alone back at the bookstore and was stunned at the size of the crowd. The noise and confusion helped to take her mind off the disturbingly intimate afternoon she'd just shared with Sebastien.

She'd had fun. In fact, it was scary just how much fun she'd had with him.

Certainly this was not a good sign. He was either otherworldly … or a fruitcake who thought he was a compatriot of Jean Laffite. She wished she were firmer in her belief of the latter. But he was getting damn convincing regarding the former. Either way she shouldn't be grinning like a giddy schoolgirl fresh from a date with the prom king. Nor should she be wishing he'd touched her just once on their return trip. He'd been remarkably compact for such a big man.

She remembered watching him walk away from the car after she'd dropped him off at the French Market. She'd have likely watched as long as he was in sight, but she was afraid he'd turn and catch her gawking like the love- struck—

“Hiya, sugar. Where've you been at?” Ree Ann pushed her way through the throng and gave Jamie a quick hug.

Jamie felt a sudden stab of guilt and pushed all
thoughts of Sebastien away. Or tried to. With the Memorial Day rush come and gone, and now the summer season fast approaching, the shop had been busy over the past few weeks, thankfully. Though Ree had brought up the subject several times, they really hadn't had a chance to talk about Sebastien. Since he hadn't shown up at the shop in person during that time, Jamie had just let it drop. Obviously Ree didn't know he'd resurfaced. For now Jamie was ready to leave it that way. She wanted time to analyze her thoughts about Sebastien. Something had changed out there on the water. And until she figured out what, she wasn't going to share.

“Wow, this is quite a crowd,” she said instead.

Ree smiled. “Bennett does know how to charm. And of course, Baxter has his own little fan club now.”

“He brought the dog? Ree, if he so much as snarls at one of these kids—”

Ree patted her arm. “Bax was just protecting Marta before, sugar. The kids love him, and it's a mutual-admiration thing. He's a sweetie. And so is Bennett, despite the weird stuff he writes about.”

Jamie surveyed the crowd. Mostly young teens, sprinkled liberally with adolescent preteens, along with a goodly number of parents. “Looks like a decent group.”

“He did his reading earlier and I swear you could have heard the sweat beading on everyone's brows. And with his accent and all, he really has a wonderful speaking voice.”

Jamie nodded in agreement, then flinched when Ree elbowed her. “Hey!”

“See? Look at Marta.”

Jamie rubbed her side. She was just tall enough to see over the sea of heads, and she spied her friend quickly. Marta was opening the front covers of the
books and handing them to Bennett, who was chatting animatedly with the young fan next in line for an autograph. “So?”

“Her face. Look at her face, Jamie. She's positively beaming. Don't you think so?”

Jamie nodded. It was true. A person could actually glow; Marta was living proof.

“I swear I never thought I'd see her like that again,” Ree added. She clasped her hands together, making her bracelets jingle. “I'm so tickled for them both.”

“They've been going out for only a few weeks, you know. Don't marry them off and give them babies quite yet.”

Ree turned and gave her a look. “Don't be a wet blanket. Just because we're not doing happily ever after doesn't mean we should go making dire predictions about her shot at it.”

“I just don't want to see her hurt. Bennett seems like a nice enough guy, but come on, what do we really know about him? Other than he writes like Stephen King on a really strange day. Not all that reassuring, if you ask me. And then there's his dog, Cujo Junior.”

Ree laughed and patted her again. Jamie hated being patted.

“Bax is a pussycat. And Bennett's perfectly normal and nice. He's successful, doing something he loves. And more than that, he adores Marta.” She squeezed Jamie's arm and sighed wistfully. “And he makes her laugh. Often.” She grinned. “So they can wait awhile to make me an auntie, but I'm betting we hear wedding bells by the end of the year.”

Jamie opened her mouth, then closed it. She could picture Sebastien's smug smile at Ree's proclamation. Had he really been the driving force behind their meeting and falling in love? Which reminded her. She glanced at Ree, who was mooning like a doting
mother hen. Jamie chewed on her lip as she thought about her promise to Sebastien. She'd promised not to interfere with Sebastien's plans to put Angel in Ree's direct path.

Part of her still had the urge to laugh hysterically over the mere thought of that match. It would, quite simply, never happen. No matter how creative Sebastien was in trying to foist them off on each other.

But, on the other hand, Ree had spent a lot of energy, not to mention money, fighting off Angel's claim to her inheritance from Edgar. Now that Angel was going to pop up, somehow, someway, Jamie felt awful and disloyal about not warning her.

Well, she'd only promised to not interfere if things looked hunky-dory. And while Angel was most definitely hunky, in that swarthy Italian kind of way, he wasn't remotely dory. Not with Jamie, and most definitely not with Ree. So she consoled herself with the knowledge that she could step in about two seconds after they laid eyes on each other again. The bad vibes would be immediate. She wished she'd thought to ask Sebastien just when his little plan was to go into action.

Jamie nudged Ree's arm. “You're getting a line at the coffee bar.”

She glanced over. “So I am. Wanna come help?”

Jamie shook her head. “I need a shower.” And some time alone to think about Sebastien. “I'll come down later and help clean up. Jack seems to be handling his own at the front counter.”

Jack was more than handling it. To him, the throngs crowding the counter were but an avid audience to be entertained. And nobody played a crowd better than Jack.

“I'm afraid we can't ever let Jack and Bennett out together, though,” Ree said with a laughing roll of the eyes. “Can you imagine? Charisma overload.”

Jamie nodded. “I can only imagine what kind of bizarre lyrics Bennett would write for Jack to sing.” She left Ree laughing and made her way to the rear door leading to the stairwell, feeling slightly better.

Ree would handle Angel the same way she always had. Those two definitely had a pyrotechnic chemistry, but Jamie doubted it was the kind Sebastien hoped for.

So what would happen when Ree and Angel didn't hit it off? Would Sebastien just try again? Or would he admit defeat and be forced to come clean about who he really was?