“TheSea Monkey?” He grinned, more genuine and less predatory this time. “Surely you could tell from the drawing I’ve named her after Rallo. That little bugger might have turned coat and thrown his lot in with you, but I love him. I’m still convinced he’s the reason my career exploded. People love a cheeky monkey.”
“That they do.” But Livvy wasn’t talking about Rallo. She rather thought Flynn had a kindred spirit in the capuchin. They were both scallywags who seemed to love a good time and a pretty girl. “Has he ever been on the boat?”
“Rallo? No, I’m worried he’d scamper overboard and I wouldn’t catch him in time. But sometimes I keep him for the weekend at my house in Malibu. Lionel trusts me with him. Rallo’s good company. Doesn’t steal my liquor or my women, and knows how to have a good time.”
Livvy shook her head. Flynn was incorrigible. But damn if he wasn’t also infernally charming.
She watched as Flynn methodically loosed the sail, hundreds of feet of material catching the wind and billowing to the side. The muscles and sinews of his arms flexed and stretched as he worked the fabric, and she found herself mesmerized by what he was doing, unable to take her eyes off the deft, sure movements of his hands. He uncoiled another length of rope and let it glide through his fingers as the thick pole running along the bottom of the sail swung to the right.
“Watch out for the boom,” he called out. She had been so busystaring at him that she hadn’t noticed the heavy pole was swinging in her direction. She scrambled to leap off the overturned bucket she was perched on and darted backwards. The pole stopped only a foot or so in front of her.
Her cheeks bloomed with irritation and shame. Did he know she’d been looking at him like he was a piece of fresh meat at a butcher shop? God, she’d practically been licking her chops. This wouldn’t do. She was a nice girl. And nice girls didn’t ogle notorious scoundrels as if they were a particularly tasty meal. Maybe the sea air was going to her head. She needed to pull herself together.
“I take it that’s the boom,” she replied dryly, striving to sound sarcastic.
“That it is,” he told her archly, before giving her a wink. “You’re a quick learner.”
Oh God, now he was flirting with her again. “Look, I can leave if I’m in your way. We can go out to dinner tomorrow or something instead.” She was already mentally planning the lunch she’d make and bring to Judy at the club. But to her surprise, he looked chagrined.
“What’ll you tell those fellas?” He shrugged his shoulder in the direction of the press pool. A few of them were still watching them through the gate. The others were passing out life preservers between them, getting ready for their own voyage so that they could photograph the winners at the finish line. But before she could devise an excuse, Flynn crossed over to her and reached behind her, untying a section of rope that was tied taut to the dock. “Sorry. I forgot you’re new to this, should’ve been more careful.”
Well, that was…something. She didn’t get the impression that Flynn Banks was a man who apologized very often.
Rex emerged from the cabin and moved to the front of the boat, dipping his head in her direction. “Miss,” he said politely.
She watched as he unfurled a sail at the front of the boat. “What’s that?”
Flynn craned his neck to see where she was pointing. “The jib, it’s the secondary sail.” Finished with his task, Flynn put his hands on his hips and looked at her. She tried not to stare at the way it made his biceps bulge beneath the tight line of his shirtsleeve. He looked like he’d painted the shirt on this morning, but he wasn’t remotely self-conscious. A peacock for the press, on his boat, he appeared comfortable enough in his own skin to have no need of showing off. It only made him more attractive.
He peered at her. “You’ve really never sailed?”
She shrugged. “My father was in the navy, and he was insistent that a ship was no place for a lady. Wouldn’t even let me near the dock.”
“Well, given that I’m the type of character you find round these parts, maybe he had the right idea.” He chuckled. “But it’s a shame he never taught you. Nothing calms the spirit like a day on the water. Let me show you.” He offered his hand once more and helped her clamber over several coils of rope and the assemblage of pulleys and weights around the mast, before setting her in a small chair screwed into the boat. “This is how you control the boom, which you now know is what we call the pole that runs along the bottom of the mainsail.” He wrapped his hands around a smaller piece of wood conveniently located in front of the chair. “This here is the tiller for the boom. It moves it from left to right.” He demonstrated for her. “You’ll be in charge of it during the race.”
“What? I have no idea what I’m doing. We’ll lose. And I told the press you were going to take first place easily.”
He chuckled. “From your lips to God’s ears.”
“Look, if you want a prayer of winning this race, you should do it. Or make Rex.”
“No, you’ll be a natural, I can already tell. Besides, I’ll be at the helm.” He gestured at the captain’s wheel that looked remarkably similar to the ones she’d seen him man in the pictures. She stifled a giggle and he gave her a queer look, as if assessing what exactly was so funny. “Rex is in charge of the jib. I promise, the boom tiller is the easiest job we’ve got. Try it.”
She looked back and forth, from the small piece of wood to his face, but he only smiled at her encouragingly.
“What have I got myself into?” she muttered, taking hold of the wood and feeling it move easily with the weight of her hand.
“See? Told you.” It was a lot simpler than she’d expected. The boom shifted with the lightest touch. “Just be sure that you duck if you bring it back in your direction.”
She followed the line of the sail, noting that if she swung the boom back around to the left, it would careen directly into her unless she bent over. She gave Flynn a shaky thumbs-up, which made him smile.
“You’ll be fine,” he said. “The only other rule is to make sure you don’t get overzealous, as that could make us capsize.”
Capsize? She gave him a panicked look. That was not a possibility she had contemplated. What if she drowned? What would Judy do without her? Could her sister survive another loss? Their parents might have been gone four years, but there were days where the grief still felt like a fresh wound. She stood from the chair, terrified of the implication, but Flynn simply thrust a cream-colored life jacket in her direction. “You’ll be fine. I’ve been sailing since I was a boy, and I’ve never capsized.”
She raised her eyebrow at him. But he simply grabbed her hands, took the life jacket back, and pulled it gingerly over her head. “There. Now, even if we have an emergency, this will keep you safe.”
Then, standing behind her, he took the ends of the cloth tiesand tugged them until the life jacket cinched around her waist. His arms were around her. Purely for perfunctory reasons. But she was shocked at the care with which he held her, the featherlight touches he used as he checked each gap and tie to make sure the life jacket was secure. He came around to the front and tied off the strings in a little bow.
