One Night At A Time Page 3

  Somehow, Arielle couldn’t picture Doug fitting into that scenario. Least of all with her. It saddened her to think that, to date, no man had. She should have been married ages ago, with kids of her own. But no, she always managed to date the guys who ran to the nearest exit at the slightest hint of commitment.

  So, if only in her own mind, she had adopted the kids she taught, considering them the family she’d basically given up on having.

  A streak of panic raced through her at the thought of her kids.

  She squeezed Doug’s hand, wanting his attention. “I need to call the principal and tell him to line up a substitute teacher for a couple days—”

  “There she is,” Doug said, interrupting her. There was no mistaking the pride that lined his voice.

  Lost in her thoughts, Arielle had paid little attention to where they were headed. Peering around him, she saw the wharf. Yachts in various sizes and huge catamarans lined the pier on both sides.

  Arielle frowned. “There who is?”

  “Destiny. Hope you like sailing.”

  Doug pulled her forward, not giving her a chance to respond. Obviously, it didn’t much matter whether she liked sailing or not. Truth was, she’d never tried it.

  “There’s a shortwave radio on board. We can patch your call from there. As for your sub, better tell your boss to find one that can fill in indefinitely.”

  “Indefinitely? But I have...” Meetings she’d already canceled, she finished silently. Furthermore, on the pretense of an impending family emergency, she’d also already given the principal a list of willing substitutes.

  Standing on the pier beside Destiny, Doug sent her a cursory glance. “Sweetheart, whoever is trying to kill you doesn’t give a damn about what’s on your calendar. And neither do L” He released her hand to take her elbow. “After you,” he added.

  He assisted her from the pier into the craft as it rocked gently against its moorings. Jumping down behind her, Arielle thought him amazingly light on his feet, his entrance causing less of a ripple than her own had.

  “The navigation station where the radio is located is down the stairs near the galley, or the—”

  “Kitchen. That’s the extent of my knowledge.” She smiled.

  “Does that mean you’ve never sailed before?” His tone held a note of incredulity.

  “First time to sail. First time I’ve been shot at.”

  Doug reached out, lightly running the back of his finger over her cheek. While the expression in his eyes revealed nothing of his thoughts, a measure of comfort communicated itself in his light touch.

  “I’m thinking,” she half whispered, more to herself than to him, “this could be a trip for many firsts.”

  His eyes narrowed, and his lips tightened. Abruptly he stepped back, dropping his hand to his side.

  “Give me the phone number, and I’ll patch through the call,” he said as he swung away from her.

  In the close quarters belowdecks the heat of his body surrounded her, embraced her. A muscle twitched along his jaw as he flipped a switch and punched buttons with impatient accuracy.

  He handed her the mike and, in a clipped tone, told her how to use it.

  She hesitated, then took it from him. “Look, I’m sorry to be the problem that messed up your vacation. If I’ve said or done something to anger you—”

  “You’re an inconvenience that has delayed my vacation. That’s all. As for being angry with you, don’t jump to conclusions. It has nothing to do with you.”

  She winced, the sting of his words pricking raw feelings. “Gee, thanks. I feel better already.”

  Cursing softly under his breath, Doug opened his mouth to speak. Before he could utter the apology that was reflected in his eyes, Arielle turned her back to him and found a tiny victory in his exasperated sigh.

  The sound of a ringing phone via shortwave radio seemed strange. Hearing a familiar voice at the other end, even stranger. When Arielle learned that Jack was out of the office, she explained the reason for her call to the school’s secretary, leaving out pertinent details, adding that she would be in touch.

  Arielle handed the mike back to Doug. Following her mental list of priorities, she eased swollen, sore feet from shoes she swore she never wanted to see again. Then, giving Doug her undivided attention, she listened while he demonstrated how to use the radio. A twinge of alarm skipped through her when he told her it couldn’t hurt for her to know.

  Her imagination filled in the blanks. The idea that she should know in the event that he was incapacitated did nothing to buoy her confidence. Casting a quick glance through the small windows, she decided he must have meant if he was otherwise occupied. Ropes, sails, wheels and pulleys all looked terribly foreign, and each, she was sure, had a specific purpose. She certainly hoped he didn’t expect her to...

  “We need to get under way. You can help.”

  She wasn’t certain, but thought she heard him mutter something about being an anchor.

  Arielle drew in a deep breath, immediately reminded that more than the scent of salt water drifted in the air. “Don’t suppose there’s a shower on board?”

  Doug grinned.

  Arielle’s breath caught at the unexpected transformation. It was the first real smile she’d seen since meeting him, and she heartily approved. He looked boyish. Devil-may-care.

  Cancel boyish, she thought, watching as the wind ran its invisible fingers through dark blond hair, carelessly rearranging it across his forehead. Sexy. Plain and simple. And way out of her league.

  “Wait until we’ve made a getaway. In the movies, the girl never showers when she might be shot at.”

  Unable to help herself, Arielle grinned back at him, finding in it a measure of relief from the tension that held her snug in its grip. “If you can stand me that long, I guess I can, too.”

  “Grab those rope ties over there,” he said when they were on deck, “and undo them.”

  She watched as he loosened one of the ties that moored the yacht to the dock. She couldn’t help but notice his motions. They were controlled, methodical. Confident. She was in good hands...at least for now.

  She set to work, the rope abrading her already raw skin.

  “Good girl,” he said. Obviously conscious of a need for haste, Doug fired the diesel engines. the cursed during the few seconds of preheat lag time.

  Then, the boat free, she followed the instructions he called out to her, and removed the sail covers as he eased Destiny from her slip.

  His gaze checked and rechecked his position while alternating glances toward the shore. A ripple of tension spiked through her. Was he concerned that they had been followed?

  Arielle’s glance followed Doug’s. Breathing easier, she noted nothing out of the ordinary.

  Sunlight glinted from the polished railings that Arielle clung to for balance. No more words were spoken as they headed from the harbor, Doug pointing the sleek prow toward the ocean.

  Arielle watched as the distance between the shoreline and the yacht grew with surprising speed. In her mind’s eye, she saw the image of her parents, of her home. And she wondered when she would see them again.

  Wondered if...

  Not caring for the track her thoughts were taking, Arielle shook her head in firm denial. Closing her eyes, she filled her lungs with the unmistakable scent of a sunbathed sea and tried to assimilate all that had happened.

  Like a living and breathing thing, dark shadows of fear lurked in her mind and played a relentless game of hide-and-seek with logic and reality.

  Being protected—having the need to be—seemed so unreal. Any minute, she told herself, she would wake up, and when she did, she’d be alone, safe and secure in her own bed, in her own condo.

  Alone.

  She turned, her gaze seeking the rugged blonde who moved about the rolling deck with ease. She wanted to believe that Doug, and the terrifying events of the afternoon, were only vague memories from a bad dream.

  Arielle inhaled a s
haky breath, her eyes skimming his broad shoulders and back. Toned muscle bunched and relaxed, stretching the well-worn cotton fabric with each movement, leaving nothing to her imagination.

  Not that she needed to rely on fantasy. She’d already experienced the steely strength of his arms, felt the solid wall of his chest. Had heard the soft-spoken and yet gruff tone of his voice. All too well, she remembered the touch of firm lips that, for fleeting seconds, had softened against her own.

  In the span of a pulse beat, Arielle knew that Doug Masterson could never be categorized as a vague memory. Furthermore, he was anything but a bad dream. She sighed, because the thought that she was in over her head was undeniable. In more ways than one.

  When Destiny cleared the harbor, wind and current tugging her across the threshold to the open water, Doug stood, braced his legs and started to hoist the mainsail, grunting at the effort. His arms flexed and his biceps bulged with each measured pull.

  The sail began to billow and fill. Doug kept a constant check on the sky, the sails, the rigging.

  Finally, apparently satisfied that all was as it should be, he gave Arielle the promised tour, ending it in the head—a very real term, she learned, for the bathroom.

  “Water’s in short supply, so conserve,” he told her, taking a towel from a drawer. From a narrow closet, he pulled out a clean T-shirt. Faded lettering across the chest spelled out SWAT.

  “There’s a bathrobe hanging on the back of the door. Feel free. Of course, feel free not to, as well.” He eyed her soiled clothing with a small grimace and laughed outright when she made a face at him.

  “We should reach our destination by dawn. I’ll call ahead and have Brian pick up something more suitable for you to wear than terry cloth,” Doug added.

  His glance swept over her from head to toe, and his eyes were a distinctive shade darker when they returned to meet hers. “Silk suits you better.”

  Arielle swallowed, momentarily at a loss for words. An ornery gleam in his eyes contradicted his serious tone, making her unsure whether he teased or not. No longer certain of anything—and heaven forbid she should jump to conclusions—she opted to let his comment slide.

  “Jeans, a T-shirt and tennis shoes would be great.” An appreciative smile tilting her lips, Arielle supplied him with the sizes.

  When the door closed behind him, she quickly stripped and stepped inside the tiny cubicle. Adjusting the temperature of the water, she lifted the handheld showerhead.

  She sighed out loud as warm water sluiced over her face and down her body. Turning off the water as Doug had instructed her to do, she soaped the washcloth, scrubbing her skin vigorously, ridding herself of the stench that she was disgusted to realize she’d grown accustomed to.

  After she rinsed, she reached for a miniature bottle of shampoo. With her fingertips, she worked the lather into her scalp, then through to the ends of her hair. She took her time, longer than usual, delaying the inevitable.

  The sigh she released this time was filled with dread. He would know every gory detail, Doug had said. Heaven knew, if the man was risking his life for her, he darned well had a valid reason for wanting to know why.

  Without a doubt, he would think her insane. She couldn’t blame him. She’d even go so far as to agree that, temporarily, maybe she had been.

  Would he, could he, understand a desperation so great that it reached far beyond the realm of reason? Had he ever experienced bone-chilling fear, so complete that it robbed him of rational thought and response?

  Somehow, she doubted his experiences had left anything to his imagination. He could probably tell horror stories that made hers seem tame by comparison.

  When she was finished rinsing her hair, Arielle turned off the water. Opening the door, she stepped out, reaching for the towel Doug had set out for her.

  Clean and dry, she felt like a new person. Or would have, under different circumstances. Arielle folded the towel and hung it over the brass bar. Turning, she reached for the borrowed T-shirt and pulled it on over her head. The hem skimmed her upper thighs, barely covering all the right places. Had she been shorter, it would have been a perfect nightshirt. As it was, it would have to do.

  After locating a brush and smoothing the tangles from her hair, Arielle took the navy robe from the hook on the back of the door. The spicy, outdoorsy scent that clung to the fabric prompted a picture in her mind of the man who wore it.

  She breathed deeply, burying her face in the nubby material. If only it didn’t matter so much what Doug thought of her. Selfishly, she wanted him to stick by her side until she was safe again. She was afraid to trust anyone else. But then, if anything happened to him, when she’d known he wanted to bail, she’d never forgive herself.

  Energy sapped, she gave a weary sigh as she slipped her arms into sleeves that extended well past her hands. Arielle rolled them up to a manageable length, and tied the belt snug around her waist.

  With a final glance in the mirror, she decided against bothering with the cosmetics in her handbag. Clean was a definite improvement, and that, too, would just have to do.

  With a deep breath that reached to her soul, she opened the door and headed up the stairs to the main deck.

  The sight that met her was like nothing she’d ever seen. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought a sunset on open water could be so incredibly beautiful.

  Brilliant hues of orange, red and yellow stained the sky, surrounding a sun that looked like a ball of fire as it paused on the horizon.

  Arielle felt, rather than heard, Doug’s approach as he stepped up behind her.

  “I hoped you would get out of the shower in time to see your first sunset from this vantage point.” He rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. “What do you think?”

  Unable to resist, she leaned her back against the rock-hard expanse of his chest, hoping he’d blame the movement on the gentle sway of the yacht and the fact that she had yet to get her sea legs. “Breathtaking,” she whispered. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  In silence, they watched the colors change and slowly fade as the sun began to sink, seemingly, into the water. Arielle could have sworn she felt Doug’s lips against the damp hair at her crown. Vaguely she wondered what he would do if she turned in his arms to face him. Would he kiss her? Could she ask him to? Silently she cursed her shyness, and the fact that she wasn’t aggressive enough to find out.

  All too soon, the sun disappeared completely, leaving in its wake muted colors and a memory she would never forget.

  Doug’s return to business accompanied the shroud of darkness, and it seemed equally threatening.

  “Arielle, enough fun stuff. Time for answers.”

  She shivered, even though she wasn’t cold. “I know.” Arielle moved away from him, needing the distance.

  At the railing, she curled her fingers around the cool brass, unconsciously tightening her grip.

  “Who wants you dead?”

  Her body tensed and she closed her eyes as the impact of the cold question sliced through her. She tried to speak, but the words wouldn’t come. From behind her, she heard Doug’s irritated sigh.

  “Damn it, Arielle, toss me some crumbs. Something I can gnaw on. Considering the fact I dodged a few bullets this afternoon and have a companion on a solo sail, I damned well have a right to know what’s going on.

  “If Brian is going to risk his life for your pretty little neck, he’ll sure as hell want to know why. And I want to know who, exactly, we’re up against.”

  She dropped her chin to her chest and took several deep breaths. Letting the last one out slowly, she looked up, unknowingly raising her chin to a defiant angle.

  “You’re right,” she said. “You have a right to know.” Before she could lose her nerve, Arielle swung around to face him. She continued to grip the rail, now at her back, for reinforcement.

  Focused directly on her, Doug’s eyes glittered in the soft glow of the lanterns, challenging her, reminding her of a panther rea
dy to spring.

  Bravely she took one breath, then another. “There was a hit hired on my life.”

  He didn’t blink, didn’t react. Was he truly as superhuman as he seemed?

  “How do you know this?” he finally asked.

  “I know it for a fact,” she whispered.

  “Go on.”

  She dug deep for a serving of courage and laid it all bare before him. “I know because...” She paused, swallowed, then swallowed again. “Because I...I hired the hit myself.”

  Chapter 3

  Doug sucked in a breath, then released it through clenched teeth.

  The flatness, bleakness, in her tone stunned him, momentarily distracted him from the impact of her words. He looked into her eyes, trying to read the guarded expression. Couldn’t. The dim light hooded her gaze, and so did her intentionally blank stare.

  “You...?” Doug trailed off, unable to believe he’d heard what she said, and just as certain he hadn’t misunderstood. “You hired a hit on your own life? Good God, woman, wouldn’t it have been easier to kill yourself?”

  She looked up at him, the drape of her hair partially hiding her face, but not the deadly despair and fear in her eyes. And the sting of his remark. “It’s...” She paused and swallowed, though she bravely continued to meet his gaze. “Like I said before, it’s a long story.”

  “And we’ve got all night.” Wanting to give her his full attention, he’d switched on the automatic pilot. Doug folded his arms across his chest and regarded her. He ad mired her guts in not looking away. This wasn’t a game to her, nor was it a game to him. He knew his own stare sparked with intent. He’d know her story. Intimately. Oh, yeah, every single sordid detail. And he’d know them now. “Sit down, Arielle.”

  She did. Without saying a word, she twisted her hands in her lap, a repeat of her nervous gestures in his office.

  Doug stood with his legs apart, body braced for the natural roll and pitch as the yacht rode the swells. For minutes, the silence stretched between them, broken only by the sounds of a living, breathing ocean.