Maybe the guy was a recluse of some kind. Or just shy. She got the feeling engaging in this much sustained conversation was unusual for him. He kept pausing as if searching for the right words.
“I’ll take you out swimming with me sometime. You’ll see what I’m talking about.”
“Not me. I’m done with fishing exposés and underwater anything, thank you very much.”
“It’s a little soon to declare yourself finished, isn’t it? Give yourself time to get over the shock of your accident.”
She shook her head resolutely. No way was she getting back in the water. The sea had taken her parents, and it had nearly taken her. She wasn’t dumb—she knew when it was time to quit and walk away. She opened her mouth to say just that but was interrupted by a male voice behind her.
“Dinner is ready, Miss Jordan. Mr. McKay.”
Aiden rolled his eyes. “A simple ‘chow’s on’ would have been sufficient, Jens.”
The steward cleared his throat. “With all due respect, you haven’t seen the meal Chef prepared. Chow is emphatically not the right word for it.”
Aiden sighed. Then, awkwardly, he held out his arm to her. She took it, eyeing the steward with new respect as Aiden guided her to the table. The sailor was burly beneath his white monkey suit and moved with the assurance of a soldier. How could she have missed that before? She must’ve been too besotted with Aiden to notice any other males on board.
She did notice, though, when Aiden gestured the steward aside and pulled out her chair for her himself. She glanced up at him in thanks and her breath caught at the way he was looking at her. As if she was the main course for dinner. Her stomach tumbled and she suddenly felt a little lightheaded. She was grateful to sink into her seat while she regained her bearings. Talk about a lady killer! The man was dangerous. He could knock her off her feet with a single glance. And she dared not even think about what his arms felt like around her.
As course after course of incredible continental cuisine came forth from the kitchen, she surreptitiously studied her companion. Aiden carried himself like a man used to wealth. Power. Having people do what he said. She didn’t care what he said. The man was definitely rich, or at least very powerful.
Not that she’d ever measured people by the thickness of their wallets. It was just interesting that he’d gone to such lengths to make sure she knew he didn’t own the Sea Nymph. If he was trying to lessen her intimidation factor at his suave sophistication, it didn’t work. It felt as if she was having supper with a movie star. He was perfectly polite, but there was a certain cool distance to him that was completely impenetrable. Of course, it was entirely her fault it was there, so it wasn’t as if she could hold his reserve against him. But it still got to her. Furthermore, it goaded her to try to break through it and find the warm, engaging man she’d glimpsed when she first met him.
“What’s your story?” she finally asked him.
“The men in my family all served a stint in the navy. My father was stationed at Pearl Harbor. I spent my youth in Hawaii. A rough gig, I know. But someone had to do it. When my father retired, my family moved back east. But I stayed in California to go to college at Stanford. I played hard, but I managed to get a degree in nanoengineering. That means I design and build tiny little robots. During my obligatory tour in the navy, I partied my way through every major port in the Pacific theater. Then Jeff Winston offered me a job in his grandfather’s company. And here I am.”
She considered the detachment with which he’d recited his life story. Beneath the lightness of the rendition, it all sounded very snooty and blue-blooded. No mention of friends, lovers, emotional connections to his family. Nor did he strike her as the party animal he’d described himself to be. She cast about for a neutral question. “How did you become a spectacular swimmer?”
Odd. He looked away evasively, but he did answer. “I’ve always lived near water. I suppose it came naturally. What about you? What’s your story?”
Trying to distract her. Weird. She supposed she owed him an answer, though, since he’d told her about himself. But she didn’t usually like to talk about her past.
She answered reluctantly. “My parents were environmental activists. And yes, they were raging hippies. We even lived in San Francisco when we weren’t be-bopping all over the world. I have a little sister, Chloe. She’s the ultimate anti-hippie, however. Don’t get me wrong. She’s awesome. But we have absolutely nothing in common. Most people who meet us don’t even think we’re related. At any rate, my family went to wherever the next big environmental crisis was brewing and tried to stir up public concern about it.”
“Where are your parents now?”
“Dead.” She was able to say it without opening the door to all the old grief and loss and anger, but she desperately hoped he’d get the hint and leave the subject alone.
He didn’t. “How?” At least he seemed to have sensed that he’d touched a nerve and was keeping this conversation brief and to the point.
“They went down at sea. No one knows how.”
“Where?”
“Not far from here, in fact. A couple hundred kilometers south of our current position.” She’d finally worked up the nerve to sail through the area a few days ago. It had been eerie, knowing she was following the last known coordinates her parents had reported before they disappeared.
For all she knew, she’d sailed right over their watery graves. She hoped she had, at any rate. She’d waited nearly a decade to say a proper goodbye to them. Although, she wasn’t at all sure that downing most of a bottle of cheap wine and going on a drunk crying jag had been much of a farewell. Yet another screwup in her life to live with.
She noticed that Aiden was staring at her. “What?”
“No wonder you freaked out at nearly drowning. It had to bring back thoughts of how your parents must have died. I’m sorry.”
Thank God she hadn’t thought about it when she’d been fighting for her own life against the sea. It would have done her in. Even now, thinking that was how her parents had spent their final moments was enough to choke her up. She laid down her fork with excessive care and stared unseeing at the china pattern wavering beyond her tears.
Hands reached down for her. Pulled her to her feet. A warm chest materialized against her cheek and awkward arms surrounded her.
A chagrined voice murmured in her hair, “I’ve gone and done it again, haven’t I? I’ve upset you.” A sigh. “I’m sorry.”
Why so many tears came, she had no idea. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t shed plenty over the years for her parents. They’d died ten years ago, for crying out loud. And yet, the wound felt as raw and unbearable as ever. Maybe it was being out here so close to where they’d died that brought out the old feelings of loss and abandonment.
She cried hard enough on Aiden’s chest that her borrowed mascara had no doubt ruined his shirt. She must look as bedraggled as a wet dog. “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I never cry this much.”
“You had a pretty bad scare.”
“But I’m not normally a wimp.”
“I
