was music playing—as always—and a party. As always. Your friends were on the top two decks—the top deck you all used as a disco, so the music and dancing were there, but there were others on the second deck, and I wasn’t sure if they were in a hot tub or a pool, but people there were just hanging out, talking and laughing. But what got my attention on that last night was the arguing at the back of the yacht. I heard voices, or thought I heard voices, and things sounded like they were getting a little heated. It was what caught my attention and what drew me to the edge of the water.”
“I was arguing?” he asked quietly.
She hesitated, frowning. “Yes. No. I don’t actually know that it was you. I just heard arguing, and then there was a shout and a splash. I couldn’t see that well and for a second wondered if someone had maybe jumped overboard, but when the person went under and didn’t resurface, I panicked and raced out.”
“Saving me.”
She tapped her fingers on the table, suddenly uncomfortable. “I didn’t know it was you. I just knew someone was in trouble.”
“That couldn’t have been an easy swim.”
“No, but I was terrified you were going to drown. I couldn’t let it happen.”
“You risked your life for a stranger.”
“What is the point of being a strong swimmer if I can’t save someone now and then?”
She’d deliberately kept her tone light, wanting to ease the tension.
He didn’t smile. “I would have died without you.”
“But you didn’t. Now we just need to get your memory back, and all will be well.” She gave him a bright smile and then rose, moving around the room, adjusting the shutters to give them more of the evening’s breeze, and then taking her broom and sweeping out some sand that had found its way inside.
She could feel his gaze on her the entire time and it made her skin prickle and heat. She felt herself flush and her pulse quicken. He watched her the way surfers watched the waves—with focus and quiet intensity. It was unnerving and she suddenly wanted to adjust her skirt and gather her hair. She wanted to be pretty and worth the attention—
Josephine gave her head a shake.
She couldn’t try to be someone she wasn’t. She’d done that in the past, in Honolulu, for example, and it had been disastrous. “Judging from your accent,” she said crisply, giving the threshold one last hard sweep of the broom, “you could be from Belgium, Luxembourg, France, Italy, Switzerland, Monaco, Sicily, Malta, Aargau—maybe even America. You’ve certainly managed to nail the American drawl.”
He grimaced. “I don’t feel American.”
She returned the broom to the corner. “Then we can cross the States off the list.” She did a quick count in her head. “Leaving nine possible cultures or nationalities.”
“We’re whittling down the list.”
She laughed, and then her laughter faded as she studied the huge bruise still darkening his brow. “I just wish I knew how that happened,” she said, nodding at his temple. “Were you injured in the fall? Did it happen before you went over the side?”
“I’ve wondered the same.”
She studied his expression, debating if she should reveal her worries, but then he said what she’d been thinking, his voice deep, his delivery slow and thoughtful, “Because if it wasn’t accidental—that would change everything, wouldn’t it?”
HE DIDN’T KNOW his name. He didn’t know where he was from. He didn’t know what he did, or where he lived, or why he’d even be on a yacht “with friends.” He didn’t know if someone had meant him harm or if he’d simply had an accident and fallen overboard.
But there was one thing he did know, and it was this: he wanted her.
He woke thinking about Josephine and fell asleep thinking about her and it was all he could do to hide the physical evidence of his desire. He wasn’t a boy. It shouldn’t be difficult to control his hunger, but the fierceness of his desire made him wonder if he’d ever felt like this about anyone before or if this was typical of him. Desire. Hunger. Impatience.
Perhaps the intensity of the need was due to all the other unknowns.
He tried to distract himself with reading the books on the shelves in the house. When he was tired of reading, he swam or lay on the warm sand, soaking in the heat of the sun. But inevitably, as time passed, his thoughts turned to Josephine. He wanted to see her. He just wanted to be near her, so he’d pull a shirt on, one of the shirts from her father’s closet that she’d lent him, and assist her with her work. He’d help with her notes, or he’d water the garden—anything if it meant he could be at her side, as he’d come to crave her shape, her scent, her smile.
She was beautiful and brilliant as well as innocent and earnest. He was certain she was a rare gem, a jewel among even the world’s most beautiful women, and he said that to her one day, after they’d emerged from the sea following a swim.
She smiled at him, amused but also shy. “Thank you for the compliment, but seeing as you don’t remember anything of your world, I’m not sure it’s valid.”
“I don’t have to compare you to know that you’re smart and kind. You’re also cheerful and optimistic, and you make me happy. I have a feeling I’m not always easy to please.”
“You certainly weren’t cheerful on the beach with your friends. In fact, you were often quite aloof, sitting off on your own, staring out at the ocean. I would watch you and sketch you—”
“Sketch me?”
She nodded, blushing. “It’s what I like to do when I have free time.”
“I haven’t seen you draw since I’ve been here.”
“I do when you’re not around, or late at night when you’re sleeping.”
“What do you draw?”
“This and that.” Her blush deepened. “Mostly you.”
He loved how her pink cheeks made her eyes look even more green. She was so fresh and pretty. She reminded him of a mermaid...a siren from the sea. “Why draw me?”
“You fascinate me.”
“Why?”
“You have to know.” Her lips pressed, her expression suddenly reminding him of a prim schoolteacher. “Don’t make me spell it out.”
He was enchanted by the line her full lips made and the firmness of her chin. His fingers itched to reach out and trace her pink cheek and the shape of her mouth. And just like that, his body hardened, the desire hot and insistent. “Apparently, my head injury has made me a little slow. Be kind and explain to me why someone like me would fascinate you?”
