“You get right back on that helicopter!” she shouted to Sam, who was a good hundred yards away. He simply kept swimming through the gentle swells toward her. He was having a difficult time of it, though, with his bulky life vest and having to tow his dry sack.

“You are certifiably insane!”

He kept swimming toward her.

“I mean it, Sam! I don’t allow idiots on my boat.”

He stopped about ten yards from the RoseWind and treaded water. “Goddamn, the water’s cold. Th-throw me a line, Willa.”

She pointed at the hovering helicopter. “Go back.”

Teeth chattering, he gave her an incredulous look. “How? I have no way of getting back in the helicopter. If you don’t throw me a line, I’ll drown.”

“You should have thought of that before you jumped.”

His head disappeared below the surface.

“Sam!” She ran to the stern, grabbed the throw buoy with the attached rope, and tossed it at the dry sack and the bobbing orange vest. “Sam!”

He reached out and grabbed the buoy just as his head popped up. He sputtered, sucking in large gulps of air. “P-pull me in,” he said, his voice faint as he looped his arm through the buoy ring and rolled onto his back. “I’m fading fast.”

She immediately began pulling him in, alarmed at how difficult it was. If Sam got so cold he lost the use of his muscles, there was no way she’d get him into the boat by herself. “Hang in there, Sam!” she urged.

“Help me by kicking your feet.”

He made a weak attempt to move his feet.

“Oh, Sam, what have you done?” she cried, straining to pull him in. “I won’t let you drown. You’re going to be okay. Keep kicking.”

He began floundering like a hooked marlin.

“Maybe you’d better save your energy instead,” she told him. He bumped into the side of the boat, immediately turned upright, and smiled up at her like the idiot he was. “Easy, Sam. Don’t get all slap-happy on me,” she warned, worried that he was getting hypothermia. “Let go of the bag.”

“P-pull it in f-first,” he sputtered, making a weak attempt to lift it toward her.

“Let it go! I’ll get it later.”

He finally let go of the sack and grabbed the rope with both hands. “Pull me to the back of the boat. There’s a ladder there,” he said, kicking his feet to send him in that direction. Willa hauled him to the stern, glancing at the helicopter that was still hovering about two hundred yards away. “That pilot should have his license revoked,” she growled, dragging Sam around to the ladder.

“He’s as much of an idiot as you are for letting you jump.”

“You’re starting to hurt my feelings,” Sam said, grabbing the ladder and quickly climbing out of the water.

He stepped onto the deck and immediately pulled her into a cold, wet, and surprisingly powerful embrace. He kissed her full on her gaping mouth, then gave her a lopsided smile. “I knew you wouldn’t let me drown.”

She gave him a hard shove with every intention of pushing him back into the ocean. “You faker! You weren’t drowning!”

He spun away before she could shove him again and waved at the helicopter. “I would have been in trouble in another ten minutes,” he said, signaling the helicopter to leave.

“Enjoy your sail, boss,” the pilot’s voice boomed over the loudspeaker as he arched around the RoseWind and headed back toward land.

Sam unfastened his life vest and let it fall to the deck with a soggy plop. Then he grabbed the gaff hook clipped to the rail and snagged his dry sack. “Damn, that water was colder than I expected,” he said with a shiver. He headed down the stairway leading below. “Your sails are flapping, Captain. You might want to reset them and get us under way.”

Willa stood frozen, watching him disappear below.

What in hell had just happened?

“You were conned is what happened,” she muttered, going to the wheel, turning the RoseWind back onto her course. “Another Sinclair just pulled the wool over your eyes!” She stomped to the winch and furiously cranked until the mainsail snapped taut and the boat strained forward. “Because you have the word ‘sucker’ written across your forehead,” she continued, resetting the jib. “First Abram and now Sam. And people wonder why you don’t want to get married again!”

She stomped back to the wheel, checked her compass heading, and plopped down onto the bench.

“Now what am I supposed to do? I am not spending the next five days cooped up on this boat with that…that…lunatic.” She shook her head, unable to believe he’d actually jumped.

“Here’s a jacket,” Sam said when he appeared on deck, dressed in dry clothes and with a towel covering his wet hair. “Sorry I got you wet when I hugged you, but I was just so damned glad to be alive. You’d better put this on before you catch a chill.”

“And you’d better put on a life vest, in case you accidentally fall overboard,” she shot back, taking the jacket and setting it on the bench.

He sat down beside her and began rubbing his hair dry. “This boat’s too small for us to wage war on, Willa.”

“You should have thought of that before you bullied your way onboard.” She gave him an angry glare.

“You and your brothers talk big about walking away from Tidewater International, but that’s obviously a big fat lie if you’re willing to jump out of a helicopter to get those shares.”

He stopped drying and glared right back at her. “I’m not here because of Tidewater. I came to save you

. You can’t get off an elevator without nearly killing yourself—I half expected to find you hanging from the rigging.”

She lifted her chin. “I am a damn good sailor.”

“So you say.” He started drying his hair again but then suddenly dropped the towel around his neck and eyed her suspiciously. “Unless it’s all been an act.” He smiled—not very nicely, either. “I’m beginning to suspect you aren’t a klutz at all. You knew exactly what Bram was hoping for when he sent you down here, so instead of hurting the old man’s feelings, you made sure the three of us wouldn’t ‘crawl to Maine on our knees’ for you. That’s why you dressed like a bag lady and got into one mess after another.”

“Bag lady? I’ll have you know that was Maureen’s best business suit, and she was nice enough to lend it to me. You and your grandfather are the duplicitous ones, not me.”

He narrowed his eyes. “When have I been anything but up front with you? From the moment you stumbled off that elevator, you’ve known exactly where I stand.”

“I certainly have—right up until Abram left all his worldly possessions to me. Then you were suddenly more than willing to kiss klutzy little me.”

He leaned in close, his face only inches from hers. “You are about to go swimming yourself, lady,” he said with lethal softness. “I kissed you before any of us knew what was in Bram’s will.”

Willa refused to lean away. “You are getting off my boat inBristol , Mr. Sinclair.”

“You and what army are going to make me?”

“Me and the Coast Guard.”

He kissed her.

Again!

Before Willa could even gasp in surprise, he pulled her against his chest and had her in a lip lock. Man, oh, man, if he thought he was going to spend the next five days kissing her and…and…

By God, she’d show him duplicitous.

Willa kissed him back. She leaned into him with the most feminine purr of delight she could muster, kneaded her fingers into his beautifully broad chest, and parted her lips. Willa’s hormones started jumping up and down in joy, and she knew—she knew —that if she kept this up too long, she was asking for trouble. Spending five days alone at sea with Sam’s beautiful chest and her raging hormones in such close proximity might be more than she could handle.

The arms around her tightened, and the mouth exploring hers got aggressive. Drat the man, he was calling her bluff!

Now what? If she got more aggressive herself, they’d both be naked in two minutes. She’d kiss him as if he was God’s gift to women for ninety more seconds, and if he didn’t pull away in abject surrender, then she’d…think of something else. She could endure anything for ninety seconds. But she hadn’t counted on his equally talented hands, especially the one he slid under her sweater to cup her breast.