They emerged from a tunnel of twisted trees to open sky and grassy hillocks rolling down to a long wooden wharf, obviously new, its planks even and unweathered. The patchwork waters of Pamlico Sound, green and blue and brown, shone like beaten copper, the gleaming surface broken only by a jetty of tumbled rock and the thin, dark line of the mainland in the distance.A world away. A few fishing boats, bristling with antennas and fishing rods, floated like pelicans on the water.
There was only one building. A big one, shingled like most of the island homes, but shaped like a warehouse. Lauren raised her brows. “You live... here?”
“No, that’s the new fish house for the watermen’s association Matt Fletcher’s heading up.” Jack parked the police cruiser in the broad, pebbled strip bordering the wharf. He nodded through the windshield. “I live there.”
She leaned forward, squinting against the golden glare of the sun. Painted on the blunt back end of the nearest fishing boat was the nameRossi’s Wreck.
Her heart lifted like a seagull, in pure delight. “You live on aboat?”
He walked around the front of the cruiser. “For now.”
She could not wait for him to open her door. She stumbled out onto the gravel, pushing her hair back with her hand. “That is so cool.” The breeze off the water stirred the lines, striking the bridge of the boat with a faintting ting. She turned to him, beaming. “Did you buy it when you moved down here?”
He shook his head. “My pop and my uncles liked to fish down the Jersey shore. They went in on the boat together about twelve years ago. We used to go out together weekends.”
She had never had an extended family to do things with. Or any family at all. Her mother was too lost in grief and her television programs, and Noah was too young, and Lauren was too busy trying to keep things together, making sure the bills got paid and dinner got made, and Noah did his homework.Maybe if Dad hadn’t died...
She pushed the thought away, out of habit and self-defense. “It sounds very manly. You all must have been very—”
“Drunk?”
She laughed. “Close,” she said. “Your family must be very close.”
He looked away, his lips tightening. “Yeah.”
She’d said something wrong. But she didn’t know what. “What happened?” she asked softly.
“Hurricane Sandy. The boat survived the storm okay, but my uncles were getting tired of the insurance and upkeep.” Jack shrugged. “So I bought it from them in a shrewd business move. When I moved down here, the boat was ready housing.”
She hadn’t been asking aboutRossi’s Wreck. But maybe the boat represented a tie to the family he’d left behind. “What do you do if there’s another hurricane?”
Those dark eyes crinkled. “Pray.”
She laughed again. He took his job so seriously that his humor was a pleasant surprise, like biting into a hard candy and finding the soft liquid center. The thought distracted her. She’d like to bite into him. Her breathing quickened.
“... help with evacuations,” he was saying. “Bunk down at the school if I have to.”
He was still talking about hurricanes. And she was helpless, caught in a sudden storm of longing and desire.
She watched him open the back of the SUV and lift out the animal cage, muscles sliding under his shirt, his back smooth and powerful, his movements efficient and controlled. A kitten huddled in a corner of the trap, a thin, striped shadow with enormous eyes.
“Oh, it’s a baby,” she said, her voice melting. “It’s so cute.”
Jack glanced down, a grin tugging his mouth. “Looks like a rat. It probably bites.”
You and me both, kitty. She felt a blush rising and looked away.
Water slapped the pilings. The smells of fish and fuel and algae rose from the dark gap separating the boat from the dock. The cat mewed once, piteously, as Jack stepped down into the boat and then turned to offer Lauren a hand. His palm was broad and firm, his wrist thickly muscled. She felt her balance dissolve in another wave of lust and gripped his hand tightly.
“Easy, tiger,” Jack murmured. “I’ve got you.”
Was he talking to her? Lauren wondered, amused. Or the cat?
He helped her aboard and set the cage in the shelter of the bridge. “You want something to drink?”
“Thank you.” She balanced in the middle of the small, square space, unsure of her footing. She knew what to do when she brought a guy to her place. Make him a meal and then either find him some pillows and the remote or take him to bed. But with Jack, she was all at sea. Literally. “What can I do to help?”
“Not much room in the galley. Have a seat. I’ll be right back.”
