One Long Embrace

“Tara, you already like me. At the moment you’re just pissed at me because I deceived you. But that doesn’t change anything about the fact that you like me. Otherwise you wouldn’t even be here. Or would you have agreed to spend four days alone with Brad Willamott, if he’d made you the same offer as I?”

Tara opened her mouth, but closed it again without saying anything.

Jay acknowledged her silence for the admission it was. “Then let’s just lay it out in the open. I like you, Tara. I like you a lot. And I’m attracted to you. But I won’t be acting on that attraction during the next four days. All I want is for you to let me show you who I really am.”

“Why four days?”

“Because it’s going to take us four days to get down to South Carolina.”

“What’s in South Carolina?”

“Apart from great food and fabulous weather?” He paused for a moment. “A part of me that few people have ever seen.”

His past. Memories he didn’t share with others. But he was willing to share them with Tara. Because then finally she would understand that he was nothing like the rich men she knew.

24

Tara carried a steaming mug of coffee up to the flybridge. They’d been aboard the yacht for over three days now, and she had to admit—if only to herself—that she was actually enjoying the trip.

Jay was remaining true to his word: he’d made no sexual advances, hadn’t as much as kissed her since they’d left the Hamptons. She’d slept alone in the guest cabin, while her host had spent half the nights steering the boat, anchoring in quiet coves for only a few hours every night.

He’d stocked the boat well. The industrial size refrigerator and freezer held everything she could possibly want to eat, and Jay had surprised her with one delicious meal after the other. She’d learned much about him during the many hours they spent together. He truly seemed to love the water.

“Thanks for the coffee,” he said now and reached for the mug. After taking a sip, he placed it in the gimbaled cup holder, where the mug couldn’t slide out even if the boat tilted a bit with the waves.

“How long have you been up?” she asked and scanned the horizon.

“Couple of hours. Did I wake you when I started the engine?”

“I slept right through it.” She’d slept well the last three nights. “But you couldn’t have slept more than a few hours.”

He smiled at her. “I don’t need a lot of sleep. Besides, I wanted to make sure we’re reaching our destination today.”

“And are we?”

“We should be there in a few hours.”

“I’m curious. Are you finally gonna tell me what you want to show me?”

“As I said before, all in good time.”

Even though she’d asked him about their destination many times during the last three days, he hadn’t elaborated. And even now, on the morning of day four, he wasn’t giving her more information than before.

She sighed. “Fine.”

“I know you’re anxious to get off the boat. You’re not used to it like I am.”

“I like being on a boat. How did you get into it? When you started building yachts?”

“I built my first boat when I was ten years old.”

“Ten?”

He laughed. “I carved it out of a piece of wood. It was six inches long, and I used a stick from a lollipop as the mast.”

Tara noticed how his eyes seemed to shimmer at the recollection.

“I launched it in a puddle outside my house.”

“Did it float?”

“Not for long. Some guy driving a big-ass, shiny truck raced down our street and crushed it before I could rescue it.” Jay looked into the distance. “Well, it was just a piece of wood. Nothing valuable.” But his sad smile said otherwise.

“You’d made it with your own hands. It must have meant something,” she hedged.

For a long moment he said nothing. Then, “I like boats, because they can take you away from things. When you’re on the water, you’re free. There’s nobody for miles on end.”

“Sounds lonely.”

“You can be lonelier in a crowd of people, if nobody is taking any notice of you. As if you don’t even exist. At least on the water you know you’re on your own and can’t rely on any help from others. On land there is the illusion that there’s help when you need it. But there isn’t.”

Surprised by his solemn words, she ran her eyes over his body. Today he wore shorts, a T-shirt, and a windbreaker with the zipper open. His hands gripped the steering wheel, and she noticed the scars and calluses on them. She’d noticed the calluses during their first night together, but now she also saw the scars that seemed to stem from cuts and burns. His tan disguised them well, but they were there.