Livvy looked up into his eyes, and his gaze met hers. There was a moment of stillness where that mischievous twinkle in his eyes, so often his defining feature, was replaced with something more soulful. She studied his face and noticed a tiny scar in the corner of his eyebrow. She desperately wanted to reach out and touch it, feel the roughness of the hewn skin beneath the soft hair of his brows. She leaned toward him, as if pulled by some invisible force. She was certain she looked ridiculous doing so, trussed up in this floatation device.
But Flynn didn’t seem to care. He appeared to be wrestling with something as he took a step toward her. She bit her lip, waiting, suspended in silent attraction. Would he kiss her? Even though no one was watching? Should she let him?
She lifted her head, turning her lips toward his face, offering herself up to him. Maybe if they did kiss, it would get this raging lust out of her system. She would fulfill her teenage fantasy and be done with it. Once and for all.
But as she waited for his mouth to meet hers, his hands dropped from her sides. He stepped back and reached down to fiddle with a pulley, readjusting his trousers as he stood. He gestured at the tiller again. “Just use a gentle touch and don’t thrust it too quickly in one direction. Good life advice in general.” He waggled his eyebrows and winked at her.
As quickly as it had come, the moment was gone. Flynn Banks, louche rogue, was back in full force.
Livvy refused to be embarrassed. Not by their near kiss, nor his double entendre. She might be an inexperienced slip of a girl, but he didn’t need to know that. Instead, she stared him down and replied, “I’m surprised at you.”
He smirked. “Am I too rough for your delicate sensibilities?”
“No, it’s just that your reputation as a lothario precedes you, which would lead me to believe that you know ladies rather enjoy it when you thrust quickly in one direction.”
He gaped at her and a sense of pride bloomed in her chest. She relished being able to surprise him. Hell, she’d even surprised herself. But Flynn Banks and his stupid devilish smile, his ridiculous sparkling blue eyes, and his adorable little eyebrow scar were not going to get the best of her. This relationship was for show, for the benefit of the press and the gullible public. She’d do best to remember that if she wanted to keep her job and help Judy achieve her dreams.
Livvy didn’t break his gaze as she deposited herself back in her chair and seized the tiller with her hand, relishing the way Flynn’s eyes widened as she purposefully and languidly wrapped her long fingers around the wooden handle.
He looked away, and she thought she heard him mutter, “Bloody woman is trying to kill me.”
But Livvy ignored him and simply looked ahead at the harbor, admiring the fleet of sailboats taking their place in a line. She inhaled and relished the scent of the sea air. She had come to Hollywood for a fresh start. One filled with adventure and excitement and a bright future for Judy. So then, what was stopping her? Here she was, about to participate in a regatta with one of Hollywood’s dreamiest stars, doing something she never would have imagined. She should seize the opportunity. She exhaled, giving herself permission to have a good time. To enjoythe day, rather than being on constant high alert for what could go wrong.
Judy had told her to have fun. Okay, she would—Flynn Banks and his dirty mind be damned. She craned her head at Flynn and nodded in the direction of the ships at the starting line. “What next, Captain Banks?”
Chapter 9
A fresh wave of sea spray hit Flynn in the face, and he licked at the salt water at the edge of his mouth. He felt the best he had in days, on the water with the wind on his back. Out here, his troubles melted away, and it was as if he were Long John Silver or Jim Hawkins embarking on a grand adventure. It had been that way since he was a boy, since his mother had first read himTreasure Islandand his father had allowed him to learn to sail on a tiny skiff on the estate pond.
He craned his head to the side. They were neck and neck with the boat in the lead—theSanta Guadalupe,a schooner that belonged to Johnny Weissmuller, the former Olympian who had found fame starring as Edgar Rice Burroughs’s jungle hero in a series of films. Flynn would not be bested by bloody Tarzan. He’d been racing in the Catalina Regatta since he’d bought theSea Monkey, and he had never won. Weissmuller had always beaten him. But not today. Especially not since Livvy had boasted to the reporters that he was going to win. It was cute, really, that she was so confident in him. He couldn’t disappoint her.
He could see the isthmus of Catalina Island in the distance. At most, they had about ten miles to go. They were over halfway, and they’d maintained a steady pace in second place.But if theycould overtake theSanta Guadalupein the last leg, they could eke out a win (and he could save face with the press pool).
“Tack her to the left,” Flynn bellowed. Rex quickly let out a string of rope to change the direction of the jib sail and let the wind flow to the opposite side.
“Olivia, tack the boom!” Flynn called. The girl furiously pulled at the tiller, and the boom swung across. She ducked and the sail flew clear over her back. He’d been right; she was a natural. It didn’t matter that she’d never sailed before. She instinctively understood what to do. He never would’ve pegged her for it the first night they’d met, but she kept surprising him. First, with her fencing skills; then, her ribald sense of humor; and now, with her ability to take to sailing like a duck to water.
She looked back at him, making sure she’d done it right, and he gave her a huge smile. “Perfect!”
Her face lit up with pride, which made his stomach do something squiggly. Or maybe it was the choppy surf. It was particularly rough today. That must be it, because his stomach had never once somersaulted over a woman. The mere idea was absurd.
To be honest, he’d only invited her to join him because he was going to race regardless. No matter what Harry Evets or the Legion of Decency wanted, he would not have missed the Catalina Regatta. It was the biggest race of the year, and with the upgrades he’d made to theSea Monkeyover the last few months, he knew he had a real shot at winning. So, he’d told Harry that Olivia could come along if she liked, and they’d be sure to smile nice for the cameras. If Harry was going to foist dates on him for the next three months, Flynn wasn’t going to skip out on any of the pleasures in his life, including sailing. He was certain the Legion of Decency would prefer he spent his weekends in self-flagellation, but that had never been his style.
Life was meant to be savored, and he’d never had any hesitation about showing up to the banquet of existence and gorging himself. Some might call that indulgent, even gluttonous. But what was it all for if not to be enjoyed? His mother had taught him that lesson. One he’d watched her learn the hard way.
Part of him had hoped Olivia would decline his invitation. Women were supposed to be bad luck onboard a ship, and in his experience, Hollywood dames preferred ballrooms to poop decks. Flynn knew this PR relationship was important, and he would’ve made up for it by taking her out every night the next week. But Olivia had agreed. And now he was glad she was here.
The bow of theSea Monkeycaught a surging wave, and the boat careened sharply to its starboard side. Shit, he hadn’t been paying close enough attention. The wheel of the helm jerked in his hands and the sail swung in the wind.
“Watch out!”
The boom was careening backwards, straight in the direction of Olivia’s temple. Flynn leapt without thinking, knocking her from the chair and tackling her to the deck.
“Oof!” She looked up and her eyes widened in terror as she watched the heavy metal pole pass directly over them, narrowly missing the curve of Flynn’s back.
He didn’t have time to enjoy the feel of her slight curves underneath him, because the next thing he knew, the mainsail tore from its riggings, fluttering in the wind.
Forget winning the race. At this point, Flynn was more concerned about staying afloat. He looked toward the bow and watched as Rex valiantly wrestled with the jib, keeping theSea Monkeyfrom going entirely horizontal into the waves.
