life, and lord knew any girl at the country club would take her place in a nanosecond. What more could she hope for when she had no real direction in her life? When she had no means of standing on her own, absolutely no experience in that arena? And when, sadly enough, no one had better claim to her affections….
And there stood Rhys, ready to provide everything a girl could ever dream of, promising the perpetuation of the pampered life her parents had laid out for her. All Lucie had to do was move out of one house and into another, the change of address entailing only one number.
All so easy. So perfect. So why was she sitting here on a bar stool in the Bahamas, as far away from the groom as possible?
“I keep thinking about what you told me, Trae,” she said into the bar’s phone. “You know, about finding myself? You’re right, I do deserve to know how it feels to be madly, deliriously, head-over-heels in love. I want that, Trae. I want it so much.”
She had to stop, emotion bringing tears to her eyes and choking up her throat until she found it hard to speak. To remedy the condition, she took another sip of the mai tai.
As she did, she had a sudden mental picture of sitting on a similar bar stool in Cancun. Only then it had been margaritas and she hadn’t been alone.
“Never mind,” she said firmly into the receiver. “Forget I called. I just figured it out, all by myself, and I know what I have to do.”
Draining the last of her drink, Lucie slid from the stool. “It’s simple, really. I just have to go back in time to when life wasn’t quite so complicated. Back to where I took my first wrong turn. And then I can figure out what the right direction is.”
She sighed, feeling vastly relieved. “Wish me luck, Trae. I’m going to find B—”
Hearing a click, Lucie realized she must have used up the time Trae’s cell phone allotted for messages.
Oh, well, no matter. Who had time for chatting, anyway? Life was waiting. Adventure was waiting.
Time to be moving on.
Chapter Two
Standing on the bridge of his yacht, Rhys struggled not to yawn. What a night. First, the snarl at the Throggs Neck Bridge, backing up traffic for over two hours then the thunderstorms, causing gate hold at JFK until after eleven. By the time he’d gotten out of Miami International airport and over to the marina, it had been the wee hours of the morning. No wonder he could barely keep his eyes open.
Yet as tiresome and frustrating as the night had been, he was now making good time. Barring any unforeseen difficulties, he should reach the island in a little over an hour, just as dawn was breaking. Quite symbolic, when he thought about it. What better time for him and Lucie to start their future together than the start of a fresh, new day.
Smiling, he pictured waking her gently. He’d give her all the time she needed, allay her fears, smooth away the doubts. And when he was done, he’d have them both headed in the same direction. The right direction—straight to St. Mary’s Chapel.
All he had to do was remain positive. Envision success.
Feeling a sudden need for increased speed, he reached for the throttle. Turning dials and flipping switches, he set the course and put the controls on autopilot. He paused a moment, watching for problems, but the yacht plowed on, maintaining a steady course across the calm, placid ocean. Indeed, the only evidence of any disturbance was a sudden sharp growl from his stomach. In all the excitement, he now remembered, he hadn’t eaten since yesterday’s breakfast.
Maybe he’d head below, duck into the galley and make himself something to eat.
He made his way to the master cabin, carrying two suitcases he’d yet to take down, already planning his sandwich. Setting the luggage inside the cabin, he noticed that the closet doors stood slightly ajar. Orderly by nature, he went to close them. Might as well stow the bags inside while he was at it.
He strode to the closet with the bags, expecting a thud as he tossed them but instead heard a telltale “oomph.” Flinging the doors wide, he discovered the source.
Trae Andrelini, clutching his carry-on, blinking the sleep from her startled eyes.
She’d removed her jacket, he noticed as she rose with surprising dignity to her feet. Large portions of her hair had tumbled free of its tightly wound knot, leaving the shiny dark-red strands to bounce on her nearly bare shoulders. Apparently, she was one of those women who were even more attractive in disarray.
“What the hell are you doing here?” he snapped, not liking his sudden strong urge to run his fingers through all that hair.
“You don’t have to shout.”
“Yes, I do. Otherwise, I’m liable to wring your neck.”
She blushed, bringing a pleasant pink hue to her smoothly tanned features. “I’m sorry for stowing away. It’s just that, well, I couldn’t think of any other way to reach Lucie.”
She’d removed her shoes. Without her stiletto heels, her head barely reached his chin. Digging her painted red toenails into the deep pile of the carpet, she seemed so small, so vulnerable, so…
So devious, he reminded himself sternly. He should know better than to soften for an instant. He couldn’t trust her. Hadn’t he just caught her stowing away on his boat?
“Trespassing is a crime,” he said, steeling himself against her wounded expression. “I should turn back to Miami right now and turn you into the authorities.”
“Listen, I can explain.”
“Please, do so.” He stood back, crossing his arms at his chest as he frowned at her. “I can’t wait to hear why you felt compelled to hide in my closet.”
Frowning, she glanced around the cabin. “Do we have to do this here? This bedroom is hardly conducive to true confessions. Let’s go up on deck.”
His gut reaction was to refuse, to make sure he didn’t concede anything to this woman, but following her gaze to the king-size bed, he had to agree that this was no place to conduct an interrogation.
She was blushing again, he saw when he turned back to her. Worse, he now noticed that the top two buttons of her blouse had come undone, revealing a froth of lace and incredible cleavage. Add that to the wild hair framing her heated face, and she could have just stepped out of the bed in question.
A prospect that caused a sudden, unwelcome spike in his pulse.
Sleep deprivation, he insisted to himself. The mind could do crazy things when exhausted, and nothing could be crazier than indulging in such a fantasy. He had to get them both out of this cabin. “Fine,” he told her, marching to the door. “Let’s talk in the galley then.”
“But I don’t want—”
“Frankly, I couldn’t care less what you want.” He paused in the doorway to glare at her. “I’ve had a long, trying day and my patience is virtually nonexistent. Either you come now and explain while I make a sandwich, or you can tell your tale to the authorities. Your choice.”
Leaving her sputtering behind him, Rhys headed for the galley.
Trae
