Making a Splash. Joanne Rock

hadn’t been about her.

      “The timing was unfortunate,” he admitted, unprepared to discuss those darker days with her. “But don’t let an old argument prevent you from making this trip. With two of us to sail this monstrosity that Keith calls a boat, we’ll make decent time, and you’ll be off and running in Bar Harbor before you know it.”

      Her gaze turned thoughtful. Serious.

      And the fact that he seemed to be holding his breath clued him in to how much he wanted her to say yes. A smarter man might have questioned his sanity, given the way they’d hurt each other in the past. But seeing her again had blasted through old defenses, sparking a need to simply be with her.

      “Maybe a little closure would be a good thing.” She toyed with the plastic handle of the shopping bag on the table. “I’ve missed your family parties.”

      “Still flying high on the year you won the Turkey Bowl?”

      “I threw a bomb to Kyle and he ran it into the end zone for the big finish.” She mimicked the throw, her arm reaching out of the blanket long enough to give him a glimpse of soft, feminine curves beneath. “It was one of my finer moments.”

      They stared at each other across the polished wooden table. Was she remembering the finer moment that came afterward, when they’d stolen into one of the cabanas so he could help her celebrate her victory? He’d insisted that she deserved a reward she wouldn’t forget… .

      “I—” He cleared his throat, knowing she didn’t want to hear about that right now. First, he had to get her to agree to this trip with him. “Yeah. I remember.”

      Needing a distraction from memories that lambasted him, he grabbed the bag of supplies on the table and dragged it closer.

      “You hungry?” he asked.

      He sure as hell was. But there wasn’t anything in that bag that could help.

      “Starving, actually.” She tucked her legs up on the bench beneath her. “Some of us didn’t get invited to the engagement party of the century at the Murphy Mansion. How was it?”

      Grateful to reroute his thoughts, he realized she probably would like to hear about Ryan’s shindig. There’d been six months where she’d practically been family, after all.

      She’d moved to Chatham when he was in high school, but he hadn’t really become aware of her until he’d seen her at one of Kyle’s football games, cheering on the sidelines and explaining the finer points of the game—a little impatiently—to some girlfriends. He’d been amused by her solid grip on the offense’s use of the “I” formation, but she’d been five years his junior, way too young to register on his dating radar.

      But once he’d become aware of her, Alicia LeBlanc seemed to be everywhere he turned for the next two years. Leading her high school team to a state championship in swimming and earning a college scholarship. Taking an interest in the hospitality field and getting a summer internship in one of his father’s resorts as an activity assistant. Showing up at his parents’ house in the summers with a slew of Kyle and Axel’s other friends to boat and surf.

      Jack had become annoyed with himself when he realized he was heading home on the weekends just to see her, and he’d made a hell of an effort to stay away, knowing she was still too young for him. Not in terms of years, but in terms of where they were in life. She was still getting her education, while he was out on his own, taking trips to Europe for his job as VP of global properties.

      He’d succeeded in putting distance between them right up until her junior year, when she’d pitched in to handle the PR for a charity golf tournament at one of his father’s resorts when the promotions director had been sick. Jack had been drafted by the family to help her, since he’d been in town. And seeing her in that light—professional and capable—had forced him to stop thinking of her as a kid. Still, he wouldn’t have acted on the attraction if she hadn’t come to him out on the golf course when he’d been picking up the flag sticks that night with his brother Ryan.

      Ryan had read the signals and left them alone, but not before daring Jack to make a move on her.

      Alicia had him outmaneuvered even then, making a no-holds-barred play for him on the ninth hole. And she’d been as assertive on a personal level as she’d always been on the playing field… .

      “The party was—” He shrugged. “I don’t know. Food was good.” He pulled a six-pack of drinks from the bag and a few snacks. “But it can’t compare to grape soda and chocolate Pop-Tarts.”

      “Perfect.” She snagged the box from him and opened it while he retrieved a glass and poured her drink over ice.

      Then he filled a second one for himself.

      “So…cheers to our northern voyage?” He kept her glass hostage while she thought about it.

      “You’re impossible.” She chewed her pastry and narrowed her gaze again. “You know I can’t eat this without something to wash it down.”

      “Guess you’d better hurry up and see we’re going to make this trip together.”

      Still she left him hanging.

      “We ought to sketch out some ground rules,” she said finally, setting her snack back on the foil package.

      “You think that’s necessary?” He didn’t like the sound of “rules” when it came to her. He’d imposed a list as long as his arm where she was concerned in the past, and look how that had turned out.

      “First—” she held up a finger, ignoring his question “—no kissing.”

      He resisted the urge to roll his eyes. She was going with him, right? He’d have to find more imaginative ways to make her remember how good they could be together.

      He nodded.

      “Second.” Her middle finger joined the pointer. “Separate beds.”

      “What kind of guy do you think I am?”

      “It doesn’t hurt to spell out our expectations.”

      “You’re just scared you’ll jump me again if we end up between the sheets.” Begrudgingly, he handed her the soda, hoping the list was almost done. “I’m afraid to hear the rest of the rules.”

      “There’s just one more.” She set the drink on the table between them. “I really debated on this last item. Should rule number three be that you wear a shirt all the time?”

      He couldn’t have held back his grin if his life depended on it. He’d definitely spend this trip half-dressed.

      “What’s the alternative?”

      “That you occasionally let me steer the ship.” Folding her arms, she planted her elbows on the table. For all intents and purposes it looked as if she was staring him down.

      “I already told you I’m glad to have another hand on deck.” He knew she couldn’t read all the controls on the helm, but she’d been on enough boats to spot him if he wanted a rest.

      “You have a hard time giving up control,” she reminded him. Absently, she spun the grape soda on the table, almost as if to remind him she could walk away from this deal at any moment. “I’d like some assurance that I can weigh in on the captain’s decisions.”

      “You want to second-guess me.”

      “They’re good rules, Jack.” She picked up her glass and tipped it in his direction. “What do you say?”

      “I say cheers.” He clinked his drink to hers before she could change her mind. “Bon voyage.”

      Taking a sip, she eyed him warily over the rim.

      “I certainly hope so.”

      SEATED ON THE FORWARD deck the next morning, the fall sun warming her face as they sped through wide-open blue sea, Alicia