Chapter Twelve

As impromptu voyages went,Willa supposed this one had no more problems than could be expected; the nights were absolutely heaven, and her hormones definitely were getting plenty of exercise. But during

the daylight hours…Well, for her sailing-challenged stowaway, this was probably the voyage from hell. To begin with, Sam was always either eating or looking for something to eat. He was burning an awful lot of calories—both during the day and well into the night. But he’d already gone through the small supply of food she’d brought, as well as what little food he’d packed in his dry sack. They were still at least a day from home, and Willa figured she would have to start fishing. When he wasn’t eating, Sam was tripping over the rigging, slamming into the boom, or nearly falling overboard. He just couldn’t seem to find his sea legs. He had a small cut on his left cheek and a knot the size of an egg on his temple, and three of his fingers were taped together because he’d caught them in the mainsail winch yesterday.

If this trip ended up killing Sam, Ben and Jesse would be forced to draw straws to see which of them would have to marry her, and then she’d have to find a way to ditch each of them. Though she could claim it wasn’t her fault that Sam couldn’t sail his way out of a wet paper bag, she didn’t think she could explain three unexplained deaths. Four if she included Abram. After all, the old man had died while in her employ.

They’d all be buried in really nice caskets, though.

“How did you find that can of sardines?” she asked when Sam plopped down with a groan beside the wheel. “I hid it in the oven because I knew you’d already checked there. Did you think the food fairy had paid a visit since the last time you looked?”

He popped the top off the can and held it up with a smile. “She obviously did.”

“I was saving those sardines to use for bait.”

He snorted. “You can use the dead flesh hanging off me instead. I haven’t been this sore since Andy Simmons beat me up in kindergarten.”

“I hope you’ve noticed that I’ve refrained from laughing at your klutziness,” she said, working hard not to smile. He looked positively pathetic.

When he finally finished draining the last drop of oil from the can, he eyed her speculatively. “I just figured out why you’re always tripping over yourself. If the floor’s not moving, you can’t function. You grew up on a swaying deck.”

“The floor of my factory doesn’t move, and I’m not a klutz at work. I’ve never met anyone with such a huge appetite.”

“For food or…” His gaze dropped to her chest.

Willa immediately reached for her jacket. “We’re definitely in theGulfofMaine . It’s getting downright cold.”

“We could put the RoseWind on autopilot and go below,” he suggested, his deep blue eyes snagging her gaze. “And share our body heat.”

“The deal is we sail by day and share our body heat only at night.” Not that she wouldn’t love to see him naked in daylight. But that would mean Sam could also see her, and her mama always told Willa that a

smart woman kept the mystery alive in a relationship.

Not that she and Sam had a relationship.

He sighed and actually started licking the empty sardine can clean, a drop of oil glistening on his four-day growth of beard. “How far are we from Keelstone Cove?” he asked, eyeing the tin forlornly.

“We’ll be there this time tomorrow, if the wind holds.”

“Who were you talking to on the radio a few minutes ago?”

“ClarkKent.”

Sam blinked. “As in Superman?”

“He’s my cousin.” Willa smiled. “And when he’s not out saving the world, you’ll find him on his boat, the Lois Lane , hauling lobster traps.” She nodded at the expanse of ocean off their starboard side. “He’s fishing about seventy miles northeast of us.”

“What sort of twisted parents name their kid Clark with the last nameKent ? Your cousin must have spent his childhood having to live up to his namesake.”

“Not many people challengeClark . He was always big for his age and didn’t stop growing until his mid-twenties. He finally topped out at six-foot-three and two hundred and fifty pounds.” She shot Sam a smile. “He was a year ahead of me in school, and I had to go to his senior prom with him because the girls wouldn’t date him.”

“I thought high school girls liked big, strong boys.”

“They like jocks.Clark was like the fictionalClark Kent, only more so. He was shy, geeky, and, um…a bit of a klutz.”

“It runs in the family?” Sam drawled.

Willa shot him a glare. “Clarkfinally grew into his size his junior year of college and came home that summer a completely new man. That was also the summer his father died. He was forced to quit school when he inherited his dad’s federal lobster license and had to support his three younger sisters and his mother.”

“Did he ever finish college?”

“No. He decided he actually prefers fishing to veterinary work. He says lobster bites aren’t nearly as painful as getting kicked by a horse.”

“I’m looking forward to meeting your cousin.”

Willa shrugged. “You probably won’t get the chance. He heads out before dawn and doesn’t get back until real late. He’s busy this week moving his traps to deeper water, and you’ll be heading back toNew York once we drop anchor.”

Sam shook his head, eyeing her speculatively. “This little trip has shown me that I’m long overdue for a

vacation. I thought I’d take over Bram’s remaining two weeks of rent on your cottage. From what I saw of it on the video tape, the place looks downright peaceful.”

Willa’s hormones immediately started doing a happy dance. He was planning on hanging around two more weeks? How in heck was she going to stop herself from walking over to that cottage in the middle of the night and crawling into bed with him?

“Oh, no you don’t. There’s only a few days of rent left, and the lease is nontransferable.”

“Then I’ll find another place in Keelstone Cove to stay. Maybe a bed and breakfast—that way I won’t have to do my own cooking.”

Dammit dammit dammit. “You will not! We had a deal. Five days of fun, then we both get on with our separate lives.”

“We didn’t have a deal, Willa. You set the rules for this trip, and I followed your orders. But once we dock, you’re no longer the captain.” He shrugged. “I was just hoping to see why Bram thought Keelstone Cove was a good place to die.” His gaze locked on hers again. “I don’t understand why my staying for a couple of weeks would be a problem for you.”

“You don’t understa—” She took a calming breath. No need to get excited; she just had to explain the situation to him. “We just spent the last four nights making love like monkeys, and you expect to live next door for two weeks and…and…” She threw up her hands when he gave her a blank look. “Dammit,”

she growled. “You can’t turn hormones on and off like a water faucet!”

“Then let’s keep them turned on for two more weeks.”

“No! We can’t sleep together once I reach home!”

He frowned at her obvious alarm. “Why not? Is there a local ordinance that says two consenting adults can’t share a bed?” He shook his head. “You Mainers have some really weird notions about lovemaking, you know that?” He gave her his infamous Sam Sinclair smile, which started her hormones dancing again.

“We just have to be discreet, Willa.”

“In Keelstone Cove?” She snorted and plopped down onto the bench beside him. She never should have fished him out of the ocean in the first place.

Sam immediately threw his arm around her, hauled her up against his side, and kissed her hair. Willa cringed. She was going to smell like sardines all day.

“Since Peg will be staying with you,” he said, “you’ll have to sneak over to my cottage after she turns in for the night.” He kissed her on her cheek this time, his beard catching her hair. “I promise to kick you out before daylight, so you can sneak back home.”