A Woman With Secrets. Inglath Cooper

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СКАЧАТЬ over a look of suspicion. “You’re the captain?”

      “Ah, no. I’m Harrison Smith. Friends call me Harry.” Harry directed her gaze toward Cole, giving him a thumbs up signal behind her back. “Captain Cole Hunter, at your service. On that note, I have a few things to do. Down the dock,” he said, pointing. “Over there. Well out of hearing range.”

      Ignoring Harry, Cole looked at the woman and said, “You’re Tyler’s friend?”

      “Ah, yes. Kate Winthrop,” she said. “Tyler spoke highly of your cruise.” She shot a glance at the Ginny, then corrected herself. “Boat.”

      Cole had gone to law school with Tyler. He and his wife Peg had been booked on the trip out of Miami today. He’d called and said they had a change of plans, but a friend would be taking their place. According to Tyler, this friend needed a vacation and wasn’t opposed to a little roughing it.

      Looking at her now, Cole strongly suspected roughing it for Ms. Winthrop meant getting booted from the Four Seasons to the Ritz-Carlton. She had that look. Diamond solitaires impressive enough to be her only jewelry. The kind of straight blond hair whose upkeep could probably support several mortgages. And blue jeans with designer holes in the knees.

      “Passengers aren’t supposed to arrive until later this afternoon,” Cole said, glancing at the satchel she held in a death grip at her side.

      “I’ve been driving for the past twenty hours,” she said. “I thought maybe I’d be able to board early.” She glanced at the boat behind him, crestfallen, as if she’d been anticipating a version of the QEII and had just realized she was getting a tugboat.

      “Tyler did tell you this is a working vacation, didn’t he?”

      She shifted from one foot to the other. “Working vacation? No, I just assumed—”

      “Look, Ms. Winthrop, there’s nothing fancy about what you’ve signed on for,” he interrupted, his patience waning. “Everyone is expected to do his or her part whether it’s helping out in the kitchen or fishing for dinner. I have one crew member, but the idea is it’s pretty much your boat for the duration.”

      She blinked hard, her grip on the satchel tightening. “But I…don’t know anything about boats.”

      He bit back a sigh. Before the day ended, the hurricane pounding at his temples would no doubt hit land. He decided then and there that he would be far better off with a cancellation on his hands than taking Ms. Kate Winthrop on this excursion. Hitching a thumb back toward town, he said, “Try the Fontainebleau. It’s a full-service hotel. Room service. Great big pool. The works. Much more your style, I’m sure.”

      THE WORDS RANG of insult.

      Married to Karl for three years, Kate certainly knew one when she heard one.

      Standing there in the bone-melting Florida heat, she stared at the back of the tall, sun-bronzed man now striding across the boardwalk toward his boat. Anger swelled inside her. Long overdue, without question. Life had landed her enough blows of late, and she had no intention of letting some overgrown Tom Sawyer with his shaggy hair, ragged cutoff jeans and bare feet change her plans.

      Not that this was turning out at all as she had expected. She’d assumed the Bennetts’ cruise plans would involve nothing more taxing than days spent by the pool sipping piña coladas. This particular vessel couldn’t have been mistaken for a cruise ship in pitch dark and high seas.

      But the likelihood of getting on a real ship at this late date was next to nil. And she wasn’t about to let this boat sail without her. When Karl arrived back in Richmond, she intended to be somewhere in the middle of the ocean where he wouldn’t stand the remotest chance of finding her.

      “Captain Hunter!” she called out in the most humble voice she could muster.

      He turned around, looking surprised to find her still standing there. “Was there something else I could do for you?” he asked.

      She faltered under the set look on his face, cleared her throat, then said, “I’m not interested in a hotel. I’m booked for this cruise. I don’t intend to change my plans.”

      He didn’t say anything for several seconds, but merely stared at her as if she were a child for whom he had to find a convincing argument. “Look, Ms. Winthrop, you can’t expect the rest of the group to carry your weight—”

      “Captain Hunter,” she interrupted, digging her heels in. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t expect anyone else to do it for me.”

      He watched her for several drawn out moments. Resisting the unfamiliar urge to fidget under his level gaze, she stood her ground. To her surprise, he let out a deep sigh and said, “Fine.”

      Relief whisked through her, followed quickly by a surge of indignation. Why did she care what he thought of her anyway? It wasn’t as if he were what she’d expected. What had Tyler said about his old law school buddy? “Smart guy. Summa cum laude at Yale…”

      This was what a summa cum laude from Yale did with his life? She’d assumed “running the cruise” meant from some skyscraper in New York City or wherever such types operated their investments. Not “running the boat,” as in, sailing it, cleaning it, docking it.

      And the man wasn’t exactly dressed like the captain of a boat. His white T-shirt and cutoff jeans said Rebel with a capital R. So maybe he was handsome in a who-cares-what-the-rest-of-the-world-thinks sort of way. His dark blond hair had streaks of light in it. And his eyes were blue, like sea water.

      She put a stop to her observations. She’d had enough of handsome men to last her a lifetime. Karl had been handsome. GQ. Drop-dead. Turn-your-knees-to-water handsome. He was also a slug.

      The man with the city-block-wide smile jogged back down the dock, his expression expectant when he called out, “You two get everything squared away?”

      With his return came the realization that, unfortunately, she needed Cole Hunter and his less-than-cruiselike boat. Her disappearance would give Karl time to cool off and accept the fact that where their farcical and now dead marriage was concerned, she would be the one to have the last word. And she really, really wanted the last word. “Yes, I think so,” she said.

      Harry Smith sent a victory fist into the air. “Great. You don’t know what you’re in for, Miss Winthrop!”

      She somehow suspected that he was right.

      She waited while the two men held a huddle a few yards away, their voices low and hushed. Ignoring them, she stared off into the distance, concentrating on the sounds of sails snapping into line, laughter ringing from a yacht headed out of the harbor, a black French poodle barking from its guard post aboard an enormous catamaran.

      The conversation behind her built to a crescendo. Harry Smith’s voice carried a note of appeal, while Cole Hunter’s rumbled resistance to whatever his friend was suggesting. Finally, the captain took the distance of the dock between them in a few swift strides, commandeering her two suitcases without saying a word. Her heart leapt into her throat. She shot after him, protesting, “That’s all right. I can carry those.”

      But he kept walking, long, marked strides that said a good deal about his level of agitation. She slowed her pace and drew in a calming breath, reassuring herself that he had СКАЧАТЬ