The Inheritance Test, page 5
Declan shot her an assessing glance and she bared her teeth at him, wondering if nothing to see here was a sentiment she should tattoo on her face.
“Do you want to finish eating first?” he asked.
“Nope.” She couldn’t risk throwing up in front of him. “Let’s do this.” She eyed the boat, which was at least a great distraction.
She could focus on whether or not the ocean was truly out to get her rather than, say, on the size and heat of Declan’s large body so close to hers. She wasn’t attracted to him like that. He was a big, well-built guy who was confident in his skin and who had a hidden sweet streak. That wasn’t actually a basis for attraction.
Wait. It totally was.
She blew out a breath. The need and desire she sometimes felt around Declan didn’t mean anything. There weren’t any real feelings there, feelings like liking and attachment, intimacy and a commitment that extended further than beating the butts of their fellow racers. He certainly didn’t care about her or even value her, while she was using him for his sailing skills. It was good that she could be so practical about all this.
“Your chariot, milady,” he teased, gesturing toward the boat. “I’m at your command. Just tell me what you want.”
Then he jumped down into the boat, held up his hands to help her in, and, when she insisted on doing it by herself, smiled and busied himself with casting off while she put on her life jacket and wondered if this was a case in which two jackets were better than one.
How far was she willing to go to secure Declan’s cooperation? The makeover dare was a small price to pay when she would do almost anything short of—
Sleep with him! her body suggested gleefully. Let’s sleep with him! Take one for the team!
It was good she had boundaries, she decided as she dropped awkwardly into the boat and he got them underway. Otherwise she might have added sex up the movie star to the day’s checklist.
Six
Declan worked out his frustrations on the ocean, while Charlotte recorded rig tuning observations on their waterproof notepad. She liked working her way down her list and checking stuff off. And she definitely liked knowing what came next. Still, she’d let him drive her out to the marina and she’d gotten on the boat after a little teeth gritting. His favorite part had been when she’d kicked off her ballet flats and rolled up the white cotton pants that snugged her hips.
From her tight expression and the way she fidgeted with the straps on her life jacket, she hadn’t magically conquered her fear of deep water yet. He debated asking if she wanted to talk about it, but the look she shot him said that topic was off-limits. He also considered introducing the topic of Bryant Palsgrave and grade A asshole, but he was shockingly willing to avoid talking about fathers. His own was a problem, so glass houses and all that.
Eventually, when he fell into an easy silence, Charlotte started barking out orders, trying to sail their boat by proxy if not by skill. Cute. He’d managed to keep a straight face while steering them out into open water. Who’d have thought he’d find his prickly, bossy race partner so much fun? But after their rather contentious start, she’d been a good sport about her makeover. And from the stack of beginner sailing books he’d spotted in her tote bag yesterday, she’d tried to learn the basics of sailing.
Not that it mattered because he knew enough about sailing for the both of them. Their two-person keelboat might be smaller and far simpler than the monohulls he’d raced in the world’s most exotic locations, but the principles remained the same. On the water was the one place he’d always felt at home—as if he belonged and had nothing to prove.
And after Charlotte had practiced her new sailing skills, he’d taken over, sending the boat flying over the water. For the next two hours he’d switched between running the boat on upwind and downwind legs to get a feel for how she went. The more time they spent on the water, the better race day would go.
Charlotte was a good sport. Other than the ocean itself, nothing seemed to bother her: Not the water that constantly splashed them. Not the salt spray that turned her sleek ponytail into something wilder and larger. Not the sun that was slowly turning her cheeks pink. She moved where he directed, adjusting their placement in the boat to respond to the wind angles.
He’d expected his uptown girl to hate the glorious messiness of sailing. But maybe there was a whole lot more to her than he’d first thought. Maybe she was more than daddy’s princess, the rule-following good girl who’d gone from sitting on the volunteer board of a children’s charity to stepping in to run the entire organization when the previous director had retired unexpectedly. He knew he wasn’t being entirely fair to her. She was a person with many sides, not a cookie cutter, one-dimensional woman.
He watched her from his side of the boat, taking in her quiet enjoyment as she pointed to a pair of seabirds winging past overhead. He couldn’t help comparing this smiling, relaxed Charlotte with the contained woman he’d surprised at lunch. His mind replayed those moments—the disapproving looks her father had aimed at Charlotte, at him, at the world.
A short internet search last night had uncovered some mentions of Charlotte’s engagement and subsequent un-engagement. Most of it focused on her now ex-fiancé, a man who’d never met a camera he didn’t like. It was hard to imagine the reserved Charlotte with such a man, but he’d be the first to admit that photographs couldn’t capture everything. It certainly went a long way toward explaining Charlotte’s reluctance to put herself forward and made him want to show her what he’d started to see: that she was smart, loyal and had her heart in the right place. Anyone who didn’t value those qualities was a fool.
The real question was, why did Declan want to make it up to Charlotte? Why did he care if she’d been hurt?
He was turning that thought over in his head when Charlotte grabbed for a loose line.
“Charlotte,” he said in a warning tone. She didn’t listen, probably because she did things for herself even when she wasn’t sure what she was doing. She pulled on the tail of the line and of course it climbed right up the mast, as lines did.
“Wow.” She tilted her head back and squinted up at the halyard. “That was not part of the plan.”
He gave her a small smile. “Didn’t think it was.”
She sighed. “Tell me how I fix this.”
Now it was his turn to sigh. “Maybe you let me fix it.”
She shook her head. “My mistake. My responsibility.”
He adjusted the sails, slowing the boat. “A quick pit stop and we’re good.”
Moving lightly on his feet, he moved up to the bow and dropped the anchor and chain, then let the chain pay out. The boat swung in a lazy arc, coming about as it slowed to a stop.
She watched him, suspicion all over her pretty face. “Are we stuck here? Because I have to go to work tomorrow, so this doesn’t work for me.”
“I’ll always get you home, Charlotte.” He toed off his shoes, following her eyes as they stared at his bare feet. “Ask nicely and I’ll give you a strip show.”
She rolled her eyes. “What are you really doing?”
He looked at her calmly. “Getting our halyard back.”
“You’re going up there? I’m sure I can figure this out.” She looked at the top of the mast as if it were Everest.
“You don’t need to worry about me.” She worried about everyone else, as far as he could tell, so adding one more person to that equation was unnecessary.
“Really?” Her voice rose, concerned. “You’re just going to climb up there and grab it? What if you fall?”
He locked eyes with her. “I won’t. Promise.”
The mast was maybe thirty feet. He’d climbed far higher. Hell, he’d fallen farther as a working stuntman. This was easy.
“Stop,” she demanded. “I have a firm policy that no one else pays for my mistakes.”
She surged to her feet, apparently determined to single-handedly prevent him from going aloft. It wasn’t a big boat and Charlotte hadn’t quite found her sea legs. He reached out to steady her, and the fact was, he didn’t mind pulling her close. Not at all. She felt amazing even if she’d decided to punctuate her claim by stabbing him in the chest with her index finger.
More than amazing, he amended. It was embarrassing how much he liked holding her close like this.
“Charlotte.” He kept his voice low. Calm. He’d figured out on day two of their partnership that Charlotte didn’t like confrontation or conflict. “I’ve got this.” He rubbed a small circle over her cheek. “So what if you let go? It’s just a mistake. A small one. Okay?”
“Sure,” she said, sounding uncertain. Damn it. Charlotte wasn’t perfect. Fact was, she made mistakes. But so did he. A shocking number of mistakes, if he was honest, with the most recent one being the deal he’d made with J.J. to nail down his ownership of Masterson Entertainment. He’d spent years longing for his old man’s recognition and appreciation, but he hadn’t appreciated the freedom of not wanting those things. Winning this race had seemed like an easy way to seal his deal with the old man.
Mistake number one.
Mistake number two had been letting J.J. know just how badly he wanted the family company. He’d built that business for two years, developing a roster of new talent, crafting deals, taking chances on a script or two that no one else would green-light. It had just started to pay off and he had a team of guys who needed that work, who’d bet their careers on Declan making good on his promises. And it felt great to know that he had J.J. over a barrel, that the man couldn’t renege on their contract as long as Declan won this stupid race. So he’d win, no matter what...
And that had led straight to mistake number three.
J.J. would think Charlotte was perfect.
He didn’t like the thought of Charlotte getting drawn into J.J.’s schemes, even if she was getting something she wanted out of their deal—a whole lot of money for her charity. He hardly even registered that he had drawn her closer, gathering her up in his arms, slowly enough—or so he told himself—that she’d had plenty of time to object.
“I can’t even with you,” she muttered.
She didn’t move away, though.
He noticed that. He noticed everything about her, which was an entirely different problem. Water slapped against the side of the boat, rocking them gently. Very gently. Charlotte promptly lost her balance, throwing her arms around him.
“I’m blaming you for this,” she muttered.
With a head shake, he steadied her. Even through the life jacket, she felt warm and soft in his arms. Of course, she steadied him right back because Charlotte was a big believer in keeping things even.
“Is this okay?” he asked quietly.
She nodded.
“You have to say it.”
“You,” she whispered, then she pushed up onto her tiptoes, her mouth reaching for his. Good enough.
Her hands came up to cup his face and then she tugged him down toward her. He went willingly, wrapping his hands around her back, steadying her a second time as he braced them both. Slowly, to give her time to change her mind, he erased the space between them and kissed her. Soft. Careful. His mouth asking for something more.
She shifted back when the boat rocked, staring at his mouth, her gaze flying up to hold his. “Yes?”
“Yes.”
Tucking her up against him, he kissed her again. She relaxed into him, letting her body rest against his.
“This is just to shut you up,” she told him.
His own mouth curved in an answering smile. “Anything you want, Charlotte.”
Turned out, what his lady wanted was more. She laughed and then she gasped when he kissed her deeper, nipping teasingly at her lower lip. He drank in the sweetly cautious sound, answering with a rougher, hungrier noise of his own, holding nothing back. There wasn’t an inch of space between them and he liked that. Wrapping her ponytail around his hand, he lost himself in a kiss that was better than anything he’d ever felt before.
When he finally pulled back, her eyes were closed, a flush of pink on her cheeks and all of her soft and trusting. He held on to her, not ready to let go. And that led to another soft brush of his lips over hers and then she kissed him. Hot. Sweet. Letting him in more than he’d ever dreamed possible.
“Wow.” She bit her lower lip when they finally pulled back and stared at each other. “That was something. It’s a good thing we got that out of our systems.”
As if. He smoothed her hair back from her face. “We’re not done. All you have to do is tell me what you want. Anything you want.”
She took a step back and dropped down onto her seat, pulling the band out of her hair and smoothing her hair back into a neat tail. She shook her head, her words coming out less than steady. “Fix the boat, boat master.”
He winked. “As my lady wishes.”
* * *
Anything you want. Charlotte replayed those three dangerous words in her head as Declan did exactly as he’d promised: what she’d asked for. He went up the mast effortlessly, the muscles in his broad back bunching as he climbed. In less than five minutes, he had the AWOL line secured and was making his way back down toward the deck. And her. The way he handled things made her feel safe, the sensation unfamiliar and too tempting, and as much as she hated to admit it, he made her want things. Declan-shaped, sexy, forever-sized things.
He secured the line once he had his feet back on the deck and turned to look at her. “You’re in the driver’s seat.”
She absolutely wasn’t.
He met her gaze. She wasn’t sure he knew how to back down. “You are. You’ve got this.”
She didn’t, but she got up to sit at the helm.
“You want to talk about it?” He sat down next to her. “Or you can knock me overboard if you’d rather. Freeze me out the way you do everyone else.”
She focused on the tiller. Maybe it was the rudder? She had no idea how people named boat parts, but the words on her list of sailing terms weren’t easy to memorize. “I don’t freeze people out.”
“You do, but it’s none of my business,” he said slowly. “Not really.”
She stared fiercely at a point on the horizon. “I don’t have the best track record when it comes to men. I’m sure you’ve heard the stories by now. There are a ton, all embarrassing. I met this guy when we were both working at Martha’s Kids. We dated, a real whirlwind romance, and he asked me to marry him. I said yes. We’d known each other for two months and it seemed so magical. Like a modern-day fairy tale. Here he was, my very own Prince Charming, going down on one knee and promising me forever.”
Declan didn’t look amused or surprised. He just nudged a line and nodded for her to keep going when it was embarrassing how much she’d already shared. “I’m not one to judge, obviously. You know the stories about my first proposal.” His shoulder pressed against hers, warm and steady. “Let’s just say that I did not get that right. Tell me what happened next?”
Confessing to Declan was a bad idea. The pictures of his failed proposal were everywhere and of course the locals had been interested when he’d agreed to headline the charity race. But even if he’d come off as impulsive and too playful about something she believed, deep in her heart, should be the decision of a lifetime, the actress’s refusal had surprised many people. George’s rejection, on the other hand, hadn’t been unexpected. At all.
“He changed his mind,” she said. “That’s the long and the short of it. I wasn’t what he wanted. So he broke up with me and left Martha’s Vineyard. The end.”
“Would you want him back?” The strong, warm shoulder pressed against hers a little more firmly and his hand covered hers on the tiller. “Because someday he’ll realize he’s made one hell of a mistake and he’ll come back.”
She looked down at his hand and hers. “That won’t happen. Is that what you thought would happen with you and the actress? Or is this a heads-up that you’re planning your reunion?”
“No.” He shook his head. “I wouldn’t be here kissing you if I were waiting for her to change her mind. Sometimes mistakes are just mistakes.”
She nodded. “George didn’t love me and thinking that he did was my mistake. He was charming. Everyone loved him. It was all so easy. So when he walked away so easily, I learned a few things and I won’t make that mistake again. You and I—”
“Have a race to win,” he said softly. “I get that.”
He had no idea just how important winning was. “I can’t afford another one-way relationship. So I need to learn how to sail this stupid boat and we need to race.”
“And win,” he said.
“Yes. Winning is very important. I wish—” What was that saying? If wishes were horses, beggars would ride. She recognized that she was headed into dangerous territory, so she switched directions. “We’d never be a real couple. I’m the boring, quiet local girl who will stay on this island her entire life and I’m good with that.”
“And who am I?” he asked, sounding curious.
“You’re our Hollywood Prince Charming. A star temporarily visiting. People expect you to be with someone like you. Your real girlfriend would be put together and beautiful, successful and glamorous. You can’t force the pieces from two different puzzles together.”
“A summer boy.” He sounded unhappy.
“We come from two different worlds,” she said. “Everyone knows that. And once the race is over, I’ll stay here and you’ll go back. To Hollywood. To your glamorous life with the, the—”
“The other movie stars and pretty people.”
He leaned over and brushed a soft kiss over her mouth, his fingers sinking into her hair to hold her still. And she might have gasped—just a little—in surprise but she certainly didn’t want to get away from him. The man was addictive, as was the smell of sun and salt on his skin. Golden, warm and present—three of her favorite adjectives—and she didn’t want to let go when he released her.
