a year since they’d spoken, and he was eager to see her again and show her how much he’d changed.
He thought about his last conversation with Jackie, when she’d broken up with him. It had come as a shocker—because no woman had ever broken up with him. Jackie had been on her father’s research ship, the Sea Anemone, and he’d sailed up and tried to get her to blow off work and go sailing with him.
“Some of us work for a living, Jeb,” Jackie had said, clearly irritated with him.
“I work for a living,” he’d protested, giving her his biggest smile and an endearing wink.
“When was the last time you built something?”
Hmm, well, it had been over a year since he’d completed the Miami Beach condos, but everyone knew the Florida real-estate market was in the toilet. His strategy was simply to wait it out and have a good time while doing it. “I’ll be ready when the market turns around.”
“You have the luxury of waiting. Most people don’t, Jeb. You squander your time.”
“I don’t see things that way.”
“I do and I just don’t think this relationship is working. We’re too different.”
That comment had smacked him upside the head. “I can change.”
“Seriously? You come from money. It’s all you’ve ever known. You don’t really have to work. You’re a playboy at heart. I mean, c’mon, just look at the name of your yacht. Feelin’ Nauti. You summed yourself up quite neatly.”
“But don’t we have a lot of fun together?” he’d wheedled.
“Yes, that’s precisely the problem. All we do is have fun together.”
“What’s wrong with that?” he’d asked, puzzled.
“Nothing as long as it’s in small doses. But my life is ninety percent work, ten percent play. You, on the other hand, are completely the reverse. Ten percent work, ninety percent play. It’s not a lifestyle I desire.”
That had thrown him for a loop. All his life he’d been complimented on his ability to light up any room he walked into and now here was Jackie telling him that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. “So let me get this straight. You’re breaking up with me because I’m too much fun to be around?”
“Precisely.”
“I’ll work.”
“Prove it.”
“How?”
“Go do something useful.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Find someone to help. Find something bigger than yourself to be a part of. Figure it out.”
“If I do that, will you give me a second chance?”
“Jeb—”
“Please,” he said, “don’t cut off all hope.”
She sighed. “All right. I’ll give you a year. If you can get involved with something meaningful and prove to me you’ve changed, we’ll see.”
“You won’t regret it,” he said, but she’d already turned back to her research materials.
The first thing he’d done was change the name of his boat to Second Chance, even though it was supposedly bad luck to change the name of a boat. The very next day, Hurricane Sylvia had churned up the Atlantic and a few days later slammed into St. Michael’s. Bad luck for St. Michael’s, but Jeb had taken it as a sign and he’d headed out to help rebuild the devastated island.
Jeb smiled smugly. Jackie had given him a much-needed wakeup call, and she was going to be so impressed at how he’d changed.
He shut off the lights, blew out the candles and stood on the deck in the moonlight. He was damned proud of what he’d done. He’d gone from thinking only of himself to putting others first, and he was so grateful to Jackie for setting him on this path. He couldn’t wait to tell her about it.
Bed. It was time to go to bed, but he didn’t have the energy to head down to his bunk on the lower deck.
He stretched, yawned, completely exhausted. His eyelids were heavy. He walked to the blue-and-white-striped bridge hammock, stretched out, cupped his head in his palms and stared up at the stars.
“I’m coming home a changed man, Jackie,” he murmured and instantly fell into a deep sleep.
4
Crab— To compensate for current or leeway by correcting the heading to one side of the actual course
THE SOUND OF HIS CELL PHONE announcing a text message woke Jeb at dawn. Bleary-eyed, he pulled a palm down his face, blinked at the pink rays of sun pushing up over the crystal-blue water.
Ding.
The cell phone in his back pocket reminded him about the text.
He blew out his breath, dropped his feet over one side of the hammock and fished in his back pocket for his phone. The text was from Jackie. His pulse leaped and he grinned widely.
Until he read the message.
To our closest friends and family. You are invited to the Fourth of July wedding of Coast Guard Lieutenant Commander Scott Marcus Everly and Jacqueline Michele Birchard at 4:00 p.m. aboard the Sea Anemone docked at Wharf 16, Key West, Florida.
We know our union is quick and unexpected, but when you’ve found your soul mate, there’s nothing to do but take the plunge. We would love to have the pleasure of your company. RSVP to Jackie @ [email protected].
Jeb’s smile vanished. A muscle at his right eye jerked repeatedly. He had to read the text four times before the words finally sank in. Jackie was getting married on the Fourth of July. Six days from now. The precise number of days it would take Second Chance to sail from St. Michael’s to Key West in calm waters.
And she’d invited him to the wedding via text message!
“A bit cowardly, Jackie,” he murmured. “You could have had the decency to pick up the phone and call me.”
He got to his feet, shoved his hands through his hair, paced and cussed a blue streak. How could she do this to him? She’d promised she would give him a year to prove he could change, and now she’d gone and gotten herself engaged to some guy in the Coast Guard? What the hell?
Jeb had to admit his feelings were hurt.
To top it off, she’d used the words soul mate. Jackie did not talk like that. She didn’t believe in stuff like that. What had happened to her? She could not be thinking clearly. She must be caught up in some kind of lustfueled haze, like the one he’d gotten ensnared in when he almost had sex with Haley on the beach. It happened. He understood. He could forgive her.
