none of his business, and was about to turn inland when she spotted the buoy bobbing crazily ahead.
“Watch out,” Adam commanded, but the sea swelled under the boat like a creature climbing from the depths. “Marnie, you’re too close!”
Panicked, she checked the gauges. “Too close to what!”
CRACK! The Marnie Lee trembled violently, and for a second Marnie thought the boat was about to split apart.
“Damn it, woman, get out of the way.” Adam shoved her aside and threw open the door.
“You can’t go out…” Her voice was carried away by the cry of the wind.
“Just steer the boat, for God’s sake!”
Horrified, still trying to set the Marnie Lee back on course, she watched as Adam tied a rope around his waist, then worked his way around the bow, rain beating on his head, his hands moving one over the other on the rail. He paused at the starboard side, leaned over, then braced himself as another swell rolled over the deck, engulfing him. Marnie’s heart leaped to her throat. She saw the lifeline stretch taut. Her stomach lurched as the wave retreated and Adam, drenched, still braced against the force of the wave, appeared again.
“Thank God,” she whispered, her throat raw, “Now, Drake, damn your stubborn hide, get below deck and dry out.”
Another torrent of water washed over the deck and once again Adam vanished for a few terror-filled seconds. This time, when the water receded, he moved along the rail again before disappearing on the stairs.
She guided the ship by instinct; she’d learned sailing from her father years before. But all the while her nerves were strung tight, her ears cocked to the door.
Nearly ten minutes later, Adam returned to the bridge, dripping and coughing saltwater and glaring at her as if she were responsible for the storm. “There’s a crack in the hull—a small one on the starboard side, on line with the galley,” he said. “Not a big gash, but it’s not going away. You’re taking on water—slowly. I used some sealer I found downstairs, but it won’t hold, at least not forever.” His eyes were dark and serious. “You’ve got to turn inland.”
“But there’s no port for miles.”
“You don’t have a choice. The island’s close enough. Just head for land. We’ll worry about a harbor when we get closer.” He picked up the microphone for the radio and started to call the Coast Guard, but Marnie flipped the switch, turning off his cry for help.
“We’ll make it ourselves,” she said, refusing, in her first few hours of freedom, to give up any small bit of her independence. “Besides, I think the storm’s about over, the rain’s stopping.”
“Did you hear me, Marnie?” he demanded, ignoring her assessment of the situation. “Rain or no rain, sooner or later, this boat is going to sink like a stone. And we’re going to sink with her.”
“But not for a while. Right?”
“Unless we hit something else.”
“How long do we have?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Ten minutes? Twenty? Two hours?”
“Hell, I don’t know, but you can’t take a chance like this!”
“Why not?” she demanded, cranking hard on the wheel and checking the maps of the area again. They weren’t far from her destination, the point where Deception Lodge was sprawled on high cliffs over the ocean. If she could beach the Marnie Lee soon, she wouldn’t have to call for help and suffer the indignities of having Victor running to save her only to remind her that she wasn’t yet ready to fly on her own wings. Well, damn it, he was wrong. And so was Adam Drake. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about your neck, Mr. Drake.”
“No more than I am about yours.” Sarcasm tainted his voice.
“Then help me get this boat to shore.”
He eyed her for a minute. “And for that, I get what?”
“A bargain? Now, you want to bargain with me?” she asked incredulously. She couldn’t believe her ears. “Isn’t staying alive enough?”
His lips curved crookedly. “Give me a little more incentive. My life this past year hasn’t been that great.”
Unbelievable! While the boat rocked beneath them, he wanted to barter. Marnie didn’t have time. “Okay, okay already. So I’ll owe you one,” she said, furious until she saw the glint of satisfaction in his dark eyes.
“All right, Marnie. You steer. I’ll keep the gash from getting any worse.” He started for the door but stopped, glancing back over his shoulder, his hair falling over his eyes. “What is this, anyway—some sort of quest? What’re you trying to prove?”
When she didn’t answer, he strode out the door. Marnie wasn’t about to confide in him; he could bloody well think what he wanted. After all, he hadn’t been invited along. She owed him nothing. Not even an explanation. Besides, if anyone had an explanation coming, it was she. What the devil was he doing looking for Kent on this boat?
She struggled with the helm until her muscles began to ache. Then, as she turned east, the storm abated. Waves still washed over the deck, but the wrath of the storm was spent, the wind no longer keening over the black water. The clouds, which had so jealously covered the moon, thinned to become a gauzy filter for weak moonlight.
Squinting, Marnie saw the island, a huge black shape rising from the frothy swell of the ocean like a sea monster. They couldn’t be far from Deception Point, she thought wildly, but in the darkness she couldn’t see well enough to make out the rocky cliffs. No lights glowed in the dark, guiding her to a port, but she wasn’t about to complain.
She slowed the engines, creeping in with the waves. In too close and she’d scrape bottom; too far out and they’d have a helluva fight in the life raft to get to shore.
Below decks, Adam heard, rather than felt, the change in speed. So they were going to dock. Finally. Victor’s daughter had more guts than he would’ve given her credit for—maybe more guts than brains, considering the situation. He sealed the cut in the hull again with the sealer he’d found in a storage closet, and decided the craft wouldn’t sink as long as she was stable. The gash was above the waterline and had only leaked when the boat had listed badly. Unless the sea rolled the Marnie Lee onto her starboard side again, the boat wouldn’t settle to the bottom of the ocean. Or at least he hoped not.
So why hadn’t she let him radio for help? What kind of game was she playing? Was she the kind of rich woman who needed thrills?
She’d always seemed so down-to-earth. Beautiful but never too flashy. Elegant but not extreme. So why the sudden boat trip in the middle of a storm? And why not call the Coast Guard?
Could Marnie Montgomery be a woman running from her past?
That particular thought intrigued him. He climbed the slippery steps to the bridge. Marnie barely glanced his way. “You’d better drop anchor,” he said, checking the charts again. “Any closer and you’re asking for trouble.” His gaze slid to hers, and for an insane moment he thought he read
