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Six months later
Scott had owned his sailing school and lived in the islands for almost three years. Though the lifestyle and maintaining several boats had its share of challenges, he loved the sun and sea, and he’d always been a people person.
He offered courses to cover all skill levels, and had met those thrilled by sailing and eager to learn, and those better off as landlubbers. But there were others just out for a good time—like a couple of his female students who had tested his patience during a squall. He’d wanted to turn the young women over his knee, spank their asses, toss them off the boat, and watch them swim to shore.
With the course finally over, he’d waved them goodbye at his base at Red Hook on St. Thomas, and sailed around to the other side of the island to dock at his favorite spot, Crown Bay Marina.
They had reminded him of Beth.
But that wasn’t unusual.
Many things reminded him of Beth.
Skillfully maneuvering his fifty-foot catamaran into the dock, he secured the lines, returned to the galley to grab a beer, then ambled to the back of the boat and sank into the padded seat to down a long, much-needed swig. As he began to relax, Beth once again popped into the forefront of his mind.
It didn’t matter that months had passed.
Her abrupt departure still bothered him, but a flash of white at the end of the marina caught his attention.
A beautiful woman wearing large, dark sunglasses, her flaxen hair flying, and her dress flapping around shapely, tanned legs, was walking as fast as her high-heeled sandals would allow. Watching her struggle to carry the large bag hanging from her shoulder, he assumed she was late for a charter.
His heart suddenly skipped.
Though her tousled auburn hair had been transformed into long, sleek blonde locks, there was no mistaking it was Beth.
“Scott! Oh, my gosh, I’m so relieved to see you,” she exclaimed breathlessly, coming to an abrupt stop and hastily removing her dark glasses. “I know this is like, uh, totally, uh—sorry, I’m babbling. Can I come on board? I really need to talk to you.”
He was rarely unnerved, but staring down at her, blonde and frantic, he couldn’t find his voice.
“Please?” she pleaded. “I know you probably don’t want to give me the time of day, but it’s important, really important.”
“Yeah, okay,” he replied, putting his bottle on the table and stepping up to help her. “Give me your bag.”
“Oh, right, good idea,” she said breathlessly as she passed it up to him, then looking nervously back down the dock, she clutched his hand and clambered on deck. “Can we please go inside? I can’t stay out here.”
Given Beth’s penchant for being impossible, the image of a large, angry man on the warpath came to mind.
“Go ahead.”
“Thank you,” she panted, hurrying past him.
Still taken aback by her unexpected appearance, he grabbed his beer, took a drink, then followed her in and closed the door behind him. She was already sitting down, but fidgety and anxious.
“How did you find me?” Though he wanted to know why she was so panic stricken, and the question had sounded incongruous, it had just popped out of his mouth.
“I didn’t,” she replied. “This is totally coincidental. I couldn’t believe it when I spotted you sitting in that chair. I can’t tell you how happy I am.”
“What is it you want, Beth? Why are you here? I take it someone’s chasing you.”
“Yeah, you could say that,” she replied with a heavy sigh. “I won’t bore you with the gory details, but a guy I was dating back in L.A.—I don’t know how he did it, but he found out where I am. I just saw him walking into a restaurant. Scott, I have no right to ask this after, uh, after what I did, but can I hire you to take me someplace?”
“I don’t even know what to say,” he muttered, staring at her, his mind spinning. “This boyfriend of yours, I take it he’s—”
“He’s not a very nice person,” she said, interrupting him, then dramatically jumping from her chair, she threw her arms in the air and began to pace. “No, I’m sorry, that’s total bullshit. I can’t lie to you. There’s no ex-boyfriend, and, uh, shit, I’m completely screwed.”
Conflict raged through him.
Though a part of him wanted to send her on her way, there was another part—a very strong part—longing to be her knight in shining armor. Hoping he wouldn’t live to regret it, he stepped across to the refrigerator and retrieved a bottle of vodka.
