“Goodnight, Devney,” he said, lowering himself onto the too-small sofa with a sense of grim resignation.
As he curled into what could only be described as a fetal position to fit his frame onto the inadequate furniture, one thought circled relentlessly through his mind.Kill me now.
Chapter 12
She woketo the sound of his phone alarm, followed by a muffled curse that pulled a laugh from her as she buried her face deeper into the pillow. Propping herself up on one elbow, she peered over the edge of the absurdly comfortable king-sized bed and spotted her fake fiancé twisted on the sofa like a human pretzel. One foot dangled off the armrest, and his neck was bent at an angle that all but guaranteed a future filled with chiropractor visits and regret.
“Sleep well?” she asked.
His gaze slid to hers, a mixture of irritation and heat that curled low in her stomach. “Splendidly,” he said, his voice thick with sleep. “Nothing like spending the night folded like origami.”
After quick showers and changing into their sailing outfits, they joined the Beauchamps on the veranda for breakfast. Eleanor and Andrew were already seated, looking effortlessly elegant despite the early hour.
“Did you sleep well?” Eleanor asked as they sat down.
“Like a dream,” Devney said truthfully, then caught Ronan’s subtle wince as he adjusted his position. “The Rose Suite is beautiful.”
An hour later, they were aboard theTidewater—a sleek, gleaming vessel that Andrew described as a “modest day sailboat,” but looked to her like it belonged on the cover of a yachting magazine. The morning was perfect for sailing, with clear skies and a gentle breeze that carried them across the glittering water of Vineyard Sound.
The most remarkable thing was watching Ronan move with confidence across the deck when Andrew called him over to help with the sails. His hands worked the ropes and rigging with ease, revealing yet another layer to the man she thought she knew so well.
“He’s quite good,” Eleanor said, following her gaze. “Andrew doesn’t ask for help unless someone actually knows what they’re doing.”
“He never ceases to amaze me,” she said.
“Would you like Andrew to take a photo of you two?” Eleanor asked, as they rounded a beautiful stretch of coastline. “The lighting is perfect.”
The words caught in her throat as Eleanor turned, already calling Andrew over with her idea. Ronan appeared behind them, his expression blank.
“I’m terrible in photos,” she said softly to him.
“Impossible,” he said, his hand finding the small of her back—a gesture that was becoming second nature. His palm pressed against her thin top, sending a quick tremor through her.
Following Andrew’s direction, she moved to the railing and turned toward the view, extending her arms outward in the classic “king of the world” pose. She felt both silly and exhilarated, with his hands settling on her waist from behind.
“Beautiful!” Andrew said. “One more!”
What happened next seemed to unfold in slow motion. A sudden wave caught the boat, causing it to lurch sharply. She felt herself losing balance, her outstretched position leaving her withnothing to grab. His hands tightened instinctively around her waist, but the sudden movement had already sent her pitching forward.
For one suspended moment, she was aware of his grip slipping, Eleanor’s gasp, and the sickening realization that she was going overboard. Then she was falling, a dizzying view of blue sky, then the sudden, cold impact of the water.
She surfaced spluttering, pushing wet hair from her eyes in time to see a clean, arcing dive as Ronan entered the water barely five feet away from her.
He surfaced with powerful strokes, reaching her in seconds. “Are you hurt?”
“Only my dignity,” she said, still trying to process what had happened. “I didn’t expect an impromptu swim today.”
Relief passed over his face. “Next time, warn me before you decide to go for a dip,” he said, one arm sliding around her waist to keep her afloat.
TheTidewaterhad continued moving after their fall, leaving them perhaps thirty yards away—close enough to see Eleanor’s concerned expression, but far enough that they had a moment of unexpected privacy in Vineyard Sound.
“Are you really okay?” he asked, his arm still secure around her.
She nodded, suddenly aware of their proximity—his face inches from hers, water droplets clinging to his eyelashes, his normally perfect hair slicked back from his forehead. “My hero,” she said, trying for levity but hearing the breathless quality in her voice.
His features grew more intense, his eyes moving from hers to her lips and back again. For a breathless moment, she thought he might kiss her—right there in the Atlantic.
The approach of theTidewaterbroke the moment, Andrew calling instructions and Eleanor extending boat hooks for themto grab. His arm released her as they both reached for the hooks, allowing Andrew and Eleanor to help them back aboard.
