Alias Smith And Jones. Kylie Brant

      Steering around the obvious answer to that question, she concentrated again on getting the man to part with a bit of information. “So, where do you go to get away from it all? Beaches? Fishing? Deep-sea diving?”

      He rolled his shoulders, clearly impatient with her questions. “I don’t have a lot of free time. A ship this size takes a lot of upkeep.”

      So that line of questioning was a dead end. If there was another explanation for the discrepancy in his log other than the one she chose to draw, it certainly wasn’t forthcoming. She changed the subject. “Osawa Bunei, that’s the new king of Laconos, isn’t it? Did he choose to keep the former cabinet or replace it with his own?”

      Slanting a glance at her, he took a bite of the piece of chicken he held. After he’d chewed and swallowed he said, “What are you after on the island, a sun tan or a history lesson? From what I’ve heard he’s replaced most of the original cabinet, and no surviving family members were chosen, which led to some dissension.”

      Ana frowned. “I thought the family had all been killed with the exception of Osawa.”

      “Not all the extended family. There were two other uncles and an aunt, as well as many cousins left. Osawa was just the next in line for the throne.”

      The scenario he’d described wouldn’t have raised eyebrows in most countries, but in the small island nation of Laconos, nepotism was a time-honored custom. Osawa had probably had to remove family members from cabinet posts to replace them with his own picks, which didn’t strike Ana as a good way to keep your relatives happy.

      “Do you go to Laconos often?” she asked daringly. Heck, subterfuge didn’t seem to work with him, so perhaps the direct route would prove more successful.

      “No.” He dropped the chicken bone on the tray and reached for a napkin to wipe his hands. “Most of my charters are for deep-sea fishing, a few families who want to go out for a day, that sort of thing.”

      The ship rocked against a particularly large wave, and Ana clutched the edge of the table in an effort to remain upright. Since it was bolted to the deck, it was as stable an anchor as she’d find. Jones merely adjusted his footing and leaned into the pitch of the ship, riding the motion in much the same way as a jockey melded his body with a horse’s moves. His position drew her attention to the muscles that clenched and released in his back, and then lower, where the faded denim of his cutoff jeans clung faithfully to his masculine backside.

      Ana tipped her glasses down to better contemplate the sight. The man’s buns were as extraordinary as the rest of him, which really didn’t seem quite fair. There ought to be a physical flaw somewhere. The scar didn’t count, as it only added to his aura of danger. When the gods had been handing out bodies, she thought judiciously, this guy had been at the front of the line. Too bad the same couldn’t be said about his personality.

      He glanced her way then, and her gaze jerked upward guiltily. “Thanks for bringing the tray up. You’d better get it back to Pappy so he can wash it.”

      As a brush-off, it was offensively transparent. She reached for the pitcher of lemonade and poured some into a glass. “After I finish my lemonade.” Pouring a second glass, she offered it to him. “Want some?”

      Grudgingly he took it. “Look, I don’t mean to be rude…”

      “It must be an innate response, then.”

      “…but entertaining the guests isn’t part of my duties as captain.”

      “I think we’ve already covered that.”

      “Neither is sleeping with them,” he went on, earning a glare from her.

      “Well, I’ve gotten over the disappointment of knowing I’ll never bear your children,” she announced sweetly, restraining an urge to toss the lemonade in his face. “Do you have something against polite conversation?”

      He turned back to the sea, squinted into the distance. “Yes.”

      “Well, that’s no surprise.” She sipped and followed the direction of his gaze. She couldn’t see what would warrant such close attention. “How about if I talk and you just point and grunt. We don’t want to tax your abilities.”

      His mouth twitched in what might pass as a smile. “You are a smart-ass, aren’t you?”

      “That depends on your perspective, I suppose.” Her brothers had always thought so, especially James, who still operated under the assumption that she was a precocious twelve-year-old. “Miss Emmaline back home at the public library would share your view, but then she never had much of a sense of humor. So when I posted a screen saver on the library computers of her kissing Goofy, she definitely overreacted.”

      “When was this, last week?” He passed his empty glass to her, and she filled it up again, before handing it back.

      “I was fifteen. It cost me the better part of my summer vacation, too. I had to help computerize the entire library collection as restitution.”

      “So you’d think you’d have learned to curb your outrageous behavior.”

      “I learned not to get caught,” she corrected absently. Leaning forward, she gazed at the instrument panel above the helm. “Can I take the helm for a while?”

      From his horrified gaze, she thought aggrievedly, you’d think she’d asked him for his kidney.

      “No one handles the Nefarious but me.”

      “You said Pappy does.”

      “He’s crew. You’re not.”

      “I handle my brother’s sailboat all the time.” It was a stretch of the truth, but not totally. She had, but only with James hovering behind her. He was as protective of his precious ship as Jones seemed to be of his own.

      “Well, this isn’t a sailboat, and guests don’t take the helm.” From the flat tone of the words, she knew that wheedling would have no effect. “Maybe you should have stayed home and sailed instead of trotting all this way looking for a good time.”

      “I had to get away for a while.” Ana was on familiar ground now, having practiced this story before leaving the States. “I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I needed to put some distance between us. The restraining order won’t hold him off for long, and I didn’t want any more trouble.”

      She was just warming to the rest of her story when he said, “Yeah, okay.”

      “What do you mean, ‘yeah, okay’? You don’t believe I could have a boyfriend?” The accuracy of that guess didn’t make it any less insulting.

      His gaze had returned to the waters ahead of them. “It means I don’t care. About your boyfriend, restraining orders, or library pranks. I think it’s time for you to go below.” He reached for binoculars hanging on a hook nearby and raised them to his eyes.

      It never occurred to Ana to do as he asked. She had a natural curiosity, and it was roused now. She stared in the direction he was studying and discovered what had snared his attention. There was a ship approaching at top speed. “Do you know who that is?”

      Instead of answering, he issued another order. “Go get Pappy.”

      Ana threw him a look. Jones still held the binoculars in one hand, and his profile could have been carved from granite. He didn’t answer her; he didn’t need to. Whoever was on that ship, Jones wasn’t looking particularly welcoming. Without a word she hurried away to do as he asked.

      Pappy was in the galley scrubbing a frying pan when she popped her head in. “Jones wants you on the bridge right away.”

      The man dropped the pot scrubber he’d been wielding and wiped his hands on a towel. “He need me to take helm?” He strode after her down the narrow hall.

      “There’s a ship heading our way. He doesn’t seem happy about it.”

      The