Chapter 10

CHAPTER TEN

" T hat doesn't sound good." I frowned as the engine RPMs dropped, and my stomach along with it.

We were only two hours into what promised to be a long day. Yet again, we were sailing into the wind, our bow smashing into the waves. And these weren't small waves—I was staring down eight-foot seas. Waves that were considerably taller than even Jackson. Jackson and I were wearing our life jackets and personal locator beacons, and I stayed focused on making it to Clarence Town.

When the engine cut out completely a few minutes later, it wasn't surprising. But that didn't make our reality any easier to swallow.

"Shit," Jackson said, voicing my thoughts. "Didn't you just change the filter?"

"Yes, but I've had to change them more frequently lately."

Fuel supply issues were the worst. Notoriously difficult to diagnose, and there wasn't much we could do about it at the moment.

Think. Think.

I'd read a post on this issue recently, so I didn't think the problem was a particulate in our fuel. I had a theory, but it might be only part of the issue. It was at least something to go on.

"I think there's a leak somewhere in the vacuum side of the fuel supply line."

Jackson nodded. "Okay. What do you recommend? Change the filter again?"

I considered it as something crashed to the floor inside the cabin. My stomach was roiling, my breakfast threatening to make a reappearance. I didn't think changing the filter again would make much difference.

"This might sound crazy, but we could bleed the system and try to ride it out as long as possible."

He grimaced. "That means we'd both have to go below deck."

"Yep." It wasn't ideal. The last place you'd want to be in rolling conditions was below deck. But we didn't have many options.

"Okay." He sighed. "Let's do it."

We let out the jib, turned ninety degrees off our route, and set the autopilot. With the boat under full sail, we headed down below to bleed the engine. With one hand braced against the wall, I placed the other to my mouth, willing my nausea away. And Jackson looked just as miserable.

"Let's make this quick."

While Jackson cracked open the bleeder nut, I watched the mechanical fuel pump. Those few minutes we spent below deck felt like hours. I tried not to think about barfing. I tried to distract myself by watching Jackson's forearms. By imagining our next destination. But if I didn't get up on deck and soon, I was going to?—

"Okay. Let's go." Jackson practically pushed me toward the stairs.

I rushed ahead of him, desperate for some fresh air. His hand was on my back, steadying me. We burst onto the deck, and I gulped in the fresh air.

"Let's see if it worked," Jackson said.

I fired up the engine, relief washing over me at the sound of it turning over. I smiled at Jackson, and he smiled back, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Good job."

"You too." I was grateful for his help. For his faith in me.

We made it a few more hours until the engine died again. We repeated the same process as before, working as quickly as possible and trying not to throw up. One of the waves was so strong, I got knocked into the wall.

I hissed at the pain, squeezing my eyes shut, and tried to refocus myself. I'm fine. We're going to be fine.

Jackson eyed me with concern. "You good?"

"Let's get this over with." I gritted my teeth as I tried to ignore the pain.

By the time we pulled into Clarence Town, we'd bled the system four times. We still didn't know the source of the problem, but we knew we had an issue that needed to be resolved. We were banged up, exhausted, and I was honestly feeling a bit defeated. I sensed Jackson was too.

We were trying to scope out an anchorage when it started raining.

Jackson turned his face up to the sky. "You've got to be kidding me."

I stared at him, watching as the water ran in rivulets down his face. He was breathtaking.

I heard shouting in the distance, and I turned toward its source. "Yikes." I winced.

Jackson followed my gaze to where another sailboat had run aground. "They were just behind us. Like, right behind us. And I thought our day sucked."

"I know." I cringed, thinking of the damage to the boat. "I feel bad for them."

By the time we got the Athena settled in, a large megayacht had helped the other boat off the reef. And the rain had let up.

"Look." Jackson nudged me. He pointed to the sky—and to a full rainbow.

I gasped at the sight of the vibrant colors against the ominous gray sky. "It's beautiful."

We'd made it through the storm—together. And that was perhaps the most surprising thing of all.

"I guess if you want to see a rainbow," I said, "you have to put up with some rain."

Jackson smiled back at me, and despite how rough the day had been, I found that for the first time in a long time, I was…happy.

When I emerged from the bathroom an hour later, I'd showered and shaved. I'd washed my hair, and I felt like a new woman.

Jackson glanced up from his computer. His eyes dragged down my form from head to toe, lingering on my breasts, my hips, my bare legs. Heat flooded my core at his leisurely perusal.

We were supposed to go ashore to have dinner at a local restaurant. According to one of the online sailing forums, we were in for a treat. Clarence Town might have a population of less than one hundred and only a handful of buildings, but the restaurant was touted as having the best food in the Bahamas. And after the day we'd had, I was ready for a nice, relaxing meal.

I'd decided to dress up for dinner, and apparently, so had he. Jackson was wearing a pair of linen slacks and a white button-down shirt that stretched across the muscles of his chest. The sleeves were rolled up, revealing tanned, corded forearms.

"Ready?" I asked.

He nodded, closing his laptop and stowing it away. I reached for my purse, slinging it over my shoulder. But when it grazed my side, I sucked in a breath that was more of a hiss. Ow. Shit.

I clutched my side. Now that I was no longer so focused on keeping my food down, I realized how much my side hurt.

Jackson frowned. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." I exhaled slowly. Or at least, I would be.

"Sloan." He raised one eyebrow, clearly skeptical.

"My side hurts from where I whacked it on the boat earlier, but it'll be fine."

"Let me see," he said, his evaluation turning more clinical. It wasn't a request.

"I'm not going to lift my dress to show you." I'd tried looking at it earlier in the mirror, but it was difficult to twist around to see when it already hurt.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Then unzip it because we aren't going anywhere until I've checked your injuries."

"You don't get to tell me what to do." I planted my hands on my hips.

"I do—" he leaned forward "—when it comes to your safety."

I rolled my eyes. "You're making this into a much bigger deal than it is."

He barked out a laugh. "I was just thinking the same about you."

I held his gaze, and he held mine, both of us just as stubborn as ever.

"Come on. I know I'm your bodyguard, but I'm also your friend."

I arched an eyebrow. "Is that what we are? Friends?"

"It's what I'd like to be," he said, surprising me.

"Okay, friend ." I emphasized the word because it felt ridiculous to think of Jackson as my friend, considering our past. "Let's get going. I'm hungry."

He patted his stomach. "Mm. I hear Erica's Bakery has the best rum cake in the world. And you know how everything here runs on island time," he continued. "It'd be a shame to miss out."

I narrowed my eyes to slits, even as my mouth watered. I loved rum cake, and he knew I'd been dying to visit that bakery. He was evil.

"Ugh. Fine," I huffed, unwilling to miss out on "the best rum cake in the world," according to fellow travelers. "You win. You are such an ass."

"What was that? You like my ass?" He glanced over his shoulder, lifting his hip. "Thanks. It does look good in these pants."

I laughed, unable to help myself. It did look good, but I wasn't going to admit that. Instead, I swatted at him, feeling lighter and more relaxed.

At least until he twirled his finger and said, "Turn."

He wasn't going to relent. And deep down, part of me knew he was right to insist. Out on the ocean, we were a team, and downplaying or hiding our injuries did both of us a disservice.

I swallowed hard and did as he'd asked, putting my back to him. His breath skimmed along my shoulder, and I shivered.

"Where does it hurt?"

"Here." I pointed to my side—the back of my ribs.

"I'm going to lower your zipper now." His voice was gravelly. "Okay?"

"Mm-hmm." I gulped. But I wasn't prepared for the way the zipper hissed loudly as it slid down my back. Or the way my skin pebbled with goose bumps when he gently pushed the fabric aside. I bit back the urge to cry out.

"I'm, uh, I need to lower this side of your dress to get a better look."

I slid my arm out of the strap and then held it to my chest.

He cleared his throat. "I'm going to touch you now."

I braced myself for it, but nothing could've prepared me for the feeling of his fingers as they drifted over my skin. I sucked in a sharp breath. My eyes closed of their own accord, and my pain was momentarily forgotten.

His voice was rough when he spoke again. "Does that hurt?"

"A little," I said, though mostly I was responding to his touch. It was light, but his hands were warm, sending sparks of need skittering across my skin.

"There's a little bruising, though I'm sure it will look worse tomorrow. You should ice it and take some pain medicine."

"I already did." I stared at the ceiling and tried to remain calm. "Take some medicine, that is."

"Good. Any pain when you breathe? Or difficulty breathing?"

Apart from the fact that he was standing so close? Was touching me?

All of a sudden, it was too much. He was too close.

"No." I yanked on my strap. "Like I said, I'm fine. Satisfied?"

He muttered something under his breath that sounded like, "Hardly."

"Can you please zip me up now?"

"Let me grab some arnica salve from the first aid kit." He stood and went over to one of the benches, lifting the cushion and grabbing the kit, all without meeting my eyes.

He took his position behind me, and I tried to calm my breathing as he opened the lid. When he touched my side, I jolted.

"Sorry if I was too rough." His tone was full of remorse.

"You startled me, that's all."

He rubbed the salve into my skin, his touch warm and sure and…

"Right." He cleared his throat and stood. He zipped up my dress before returning the salve to the kit and washing his hands. "Shall we?"

"We shall." Even though I was still trying to get my head on straight.

The rain had cleared, and the sunset promised to be beautiful. He grabbed the trash bag from the kitchen and carried it out. We locked up and then headed over to the restaurant after a quick stop at the bakery for rum cake. Most of the buildings on the island were colorful, and everyone was friendly.

"Good call on the fuel supply line and bleeding it out," Jackson said as we walked up to the outdoor restaurant. It was little more than a hut covered in palm leaves. Colored lights surrounded the space, and the food smelled amazing.

"Thanks," I said, both to his compliment and the fact that he'd pulled out a chair for me. "I plan to spend some time troubleshooting tomorrow, but I'm guessing we need to replace the filter system."

"Let me know how I can help." He perused the menu.

Jackson hadn't questioned or second-guessed me; he'd trusted me. Even during a stressful situation, he'd put his faith in me. It meant more than words could say.

"Thanks. I appreciate that." We'd worked well together today, and it had been surprisingly nice.

His thigh brushed against mine, but neither of us moved away. "What are you going to order? The conch salad, the fried conch, or the conch fritters?"

"Hmm." I tapped my finger to my lips. "I think the conch."

We laughed, and he leaned back, resting his arm on the back of my chair.

"Seriously, though." I grinned. "How about all of it? Let's just order one of everything and share."

"Sounds good."

Before long, my rum punch was delivered, along with Jackson's beer. I took a deep sip, barely tasting the alcohol, thanks to the fruity flavor. I kept thinking about how he wanted us to be friends. So I decided to try it out. To ignore our past and pretend as if we were just two friends out for a drink.

"Brooklyn says hi." I'd checked my email earlier and sent her a quick response to update her. "I have to tell you, she gushed about you after we were ‘introduced' at the hotel," I said, using air quotes.

"Yeah?" He chuckled, but the tips of his ears pinkened. "She's a sweetheart."

"She is." I smiled, sipping my rum punch. "You like kids, huh?"

"It's hard not to like Brooklyn," he said, sidestepping my question.

"And your niece and nephew."

"They're great, but I don't get to spend as much time with them as I'd like."

"Because of work?" I asked while the fritters were delivered, along with a second glass of punch. I barely even felt the alcohol. Just a nice, pleasant buzz.

Friends. Maybe this wasn't so bad.

He nodded. "Though…"

I furrowed my brow. "Though, what?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. I just… I'm hoping to spend some more time with them after our trip."

"That will be nice," I said. "Never wanted kids of your own?"

He toyed with his glass. "That's dangerous territory."

It wouldn't be the first time we'd wandered into dangerous territory.

He cupped my cheek, threading his fingers through my hair. His gaze was so intense. So right. I could drown in his eyes. I could forget everything and everyone else when I was with him.

"I need you to promise me something." He brushed my hair away from my face.

"Anything," I breathed. I would give him anything he asked.

"Promise me that no matter what happens between us, it won't affect your relationship with Greer."

"I-I—" I swallowed hard. He was right; Greer would kill us. But I was already too far gone to try to stop. I had tried to stop. I'd tried to avoid Jackson, but I couldn't. "I promise."

The moment his lips connected with mine, I was lost. Lost to reason. Lost to anything but the feeling of his lips caressing mine. His hands on my hips.

It was everything I'd dreamed of and still so much more. It was like gliding along the water—natural and freeing. Exhilarating.

When he kissed me, it was as if the world came alive. As if I came alive.

The earth kept on spinning, the song changed, and yet, we were in our own little world. Just the two of us.

Jackson placed his hand on my arm. "Sloan?"

"Hm?" I glanced down at where his hand rested on my skin.

"Where'd you go just now?"

I blinked a few times. I needed to ground myself in the present before the rum and memories of the past carried me away.

"Tell me about working for my brother."

"Nate?" he asked as our meal arrived. We dug in.

"Yeah. Unless you worked for one of my other brothers."

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm not supposed to talk about a principal with another client."

"Right. I get that." I stirred my drink. "But as your friend —" I winked, and it felt exaggerated "—there's just one thing I want to know."

"What's that?" he asked, brow arched in amusement.

I leaned in, never breaking eye contact. "Did you know Nate and Emerson were dating? I mean, before they got engaged."

He threw his head back and laughed. It was glorious. The sight of it did funny things to my ovaries.

I took a bite of the fried conch just to do something with my mouth beside gape at him. "Oh my god," I said around a mouthful. "You have to try this."

I held it up to his mouth, and he swallowed hard before parting his lips. He took a bite, his eyes focused on mine the entire time. Holy…

"How is everything?" the waiter asked.

I jerked my hand away as if I'd been scalded. "Good. Yeah. Great." I couldn't seem to stop nodding.

After the waiter had gone, Jackson leaned in, his breath teasing the shell of my ear. "I like how you're leaning in to our cover story."

I laughed, but the sound was breathy and embarrassing. If I'd turned my head just slightly, we'd be kissing. Instead, I stared ahead, ignoring his closeness and his spicy, forbidden scent that called to me, beckoning me closer. He was my bodyguard, and he was here because he was being paid to do a job. That certainly cooled some of the desire coursing through my veins.

Conversation returned to other matters, and dinner passed pleasantly enough. There were light touches, occasional flirting, but I told myself it was all part of the act.

Eventually, he flagged over the waiter and paid our tab.

I scowled at him. "Hey. I was supposed to do that."

"You can pay next time," he said. But we both knew he'd never allow that.

When I stood, I nearly toppled. I giggled. "I guess those rum punches were stronger than I realized."

"Mm-hmm." He wore a bemused expression that was so damn sexy. He offered me his arm. "Are you going to be able to walk, or do I need to throw you over my shoulder?"

"You're teasing, right?" Surely he was joking. I patted his chest, but my hand lingered there, caressing his muscle.

He leaned in. "Care to find out?"

I stepped away from him, knowing better than to push my luck. He reached for me, and I wagged my finger at him.

"Don't you dare." I laughed, despite my efforts to be stern. "Don't even think about it."

He shifted from foot to foot, looking as if he might charge at me. I tried to dart from his path but stumbled. But Jackson was there, catching me. Steadying me.

"Whoa there." He chuckled, but his expression soon turned serious. His hands remained on my hips, his eyes on my lips.

"Jackson?"

"Yeah."

"I—" I rolled my lips between my teeth. "I don't think I can be your friend," I whispered, getting a little too close to the truth.

He leaned even closer. "And why's that?"

"I—" The reflection of the moon on the water caught my eye. "Wow," I breathed.

Jackson turned to follow my gaze then wrapped his arm around my shoulder. We stood there for a minute before he ushered me down the path.

I barely remembered the walk back to the marina or climbing aboard the Athena . Part of me thought I'd imagined him guiding me to sit on my bed. Kneeling to the floor to remove my sandals before tucking me in.

"You're a good friend." I patted his cheek. I let out a happy sigh, my eyes closing of their own accord. "Tonight was nice."

"Sleep well," he murmured, and I felt a flutter of a kiss on my forehead. Yet another thing I'd probably imagined.