Prologue

 

 

Jill Perry looked up. There was no way Neptune Majesty was going to clear the span of the Sunshine Skyway bridge. She had seen pictures of the regal cruise ships passing beneath the soaring cable-stayed bridge, but never once had she stood on deck as it happened. In awe, she gaped at the concrete and steel undercarriage and heard the muted resonance of traffic passing by on 295. Engrossed, Jill did not move until they were well on their way into the Gulf of Mexico.

With Tampa Bay receding, most passengers returned to their cabins to plot out their activities. Jill had no activities−or rather, no desire for any. As of ten minutes ago she lost sight of her office building on the Tampa skyline. That was where she belonged. But to have denied her parents a cruise that they already purchased seemed awfully immature for a twenty-nine year old. That they purchased the cruise behind her back seemed awfully immature for a couple of fifty-something year-olds. And now, Catherine Perry, her mother, was one of those enthusiastic passengers ambling about downstairs to sign up for every onboard activity imaginable. Jill had to wonder if the cruise truly was charitable, or just her mother’s ploy to get someone to travel with her when her father declined.

Yes, the past year had been hell for Jill, but her limp was nearly imperceptible. In fact, she had packed high heels after testing them out with a few awkward steps in her townhouse. The car accident was a distant memory that haunted her parents far greater than it haunted her. She would pacify them with this trip. It was only seven days, and she had her laptop and camera. It would not be a complete waste of a week.

Stepping up to the rail, Jill rested her elbows against it, frustrated that she could barely see the ocean behind a veil of blond hair. Thank God for the sunglasses that spared her eyes from the wind’s assault. In a moment of respite she sighed and looked out on the shoreline, now just a misty layer of bumps on a green horizon. Out here the oppressive humidity dissipated, cast aside by the wind. Below her, white froth pummeled the hull of the ship, as the mechanical monster clashed with the ocean’s power.

Bam.

Jill screamed when she felt the impact from behind. The impetus sent her beyond the point of balance as her stomach slammed against the balustrade, tossing her sunglasses into the swells below. Just when her heels lost connection with the deck and balance shift in favor of the hungry ocean, something clamped around her waist, hauling her back from the nautical hands of demise.

For a moment she stood with her chest heaving and her heart drumming a cadence that was too fast. She took a gulp of salty air and latched onto the vice around her stomach, using her fingers as talons. After a few steadying breaths she realized that it was flesh her fingers were digging into, and the vice was an arm. A few more breaths and she grew conscious of the weight of a human draped against her back. It was a solid frame and she leaned against that stiff barrier, having no regard for whom or what it was…only that it represented stability.

“Are you okay?” A husky male voice whispered against her ear.

A chill shook her despite the sun’s heat.

“I−I−”

“We’re going to take a step back, okay?”

The voice was so rational. Of course. A step back. Away from the water.

“Okay,” she squeaked.

In tandem they withdrew from the railing, the solid frame still connected by an arm that represented a safety belt. The wind lashed a lock of hair into her eye and she finally released the human strap around her waist to lift her hand to her face. “I lost my sunglasses.”

“I’ll buy you a new pair,” he said.

Clarity returned, and with it the rush of blood to her face. Adrenaline pumped at a jet engine pace as she whirled to identify the voice. The man was tall−over six feet. His short dark hair was whipped by the wind, but his eyes were protected behind wire-framed sunglasses. As inaccessible as those eyes were, she could still feel them on her. What she could discern was a tan face with a square jaw where a muscle pumped. He was not smiling. His lips were tight, and in her estimation, he looked edgy. He wore a white cotton shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms−arms that still had a grasp on hers. At the collar of his shirt, two buttons were unfastened to reveal tan flesh, and she could see a glimpse of the solid wall that had been pinned against her back.

He turned his head and his profile made her breath catch. She frowned when she noticed his attention was rapt with something further down the deck.

“What happened?” She arrested his attention, wishing that she could see the eyes behind the dark lenses.

One more glimpse over his shoulder and the man’s gaze returned to her. He glanced down at his hands latched onto her arms and his chin inclined as he looked out to sea and then back to her again. His grip constricted.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” It was as if the gravity of the situation just now hit him.

“Yes. A little shaken, but−” she hesitated. “You saved me.”

“Saved?” The resonance of his voice pitched. “I nearly killed you.”

Vertigo made her list, but the grip on her arms kept her steady. She forced her eyes open again to take in the grim-faced man. For an irrational moment she had the horrific thought that he was a psycho who intended to pitch her off the ship. Her breath hitched and she expelled a primal sound of fear.

“Hey.” He heard the cry. “It was an accident. Damn, I wasn’t trying to kill you.”

His demeanor seemed visibly disturbed by her reaction. “I was−” he glanced down the deck again, although it was empty except for a few passengers hovering near the balustrade that overlooked the pool. “I was jogging, and−”

Jogging?

“Jogging?” Her tone pitched. She sounded like a seagull. “You were jogging?”

Jill wanted to step back−away from him, but the railing and the ocean loomed behind her.

“I was jogging…” he swallowed and she watched the bob of his throat, “−and I guess I lost track of how fast I was going.”

To his credit, his voice trailed off at the end, realizing how absurd he sounded.

“Jogging?” It bore repeating. “An elephant might have been more graceful.”

For the first time, the grim line of his full lips curled up into what was a sinfully attractive smile. “If there is one thing I’m not known for,” he said, “it is grace.”

Jill was not humored. “Are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you were jogging and you lost control and nearly knocked me off a deck 200 feet above the ocean?” She sounded a tad hysterical.

“It’s only 175 here,” he offered quietly.

What irked her most was the constant quirk of his neck as he turned to scan the aft of the ship before returning his focus on her. The distraction irritated her.

“More likely,” she surmised, “you are late for a date and now you’re looking to see if you can locate her−only she has probably grown tired of waiting and moved on to a more timely, graceful man.”

Glancing down at the hands still on her arms, she cocked her head and looked back up at him with an arched eyebrow. He released her and managed a nod. She still wished she could see his eyes. Maybe they would reveal some sincerity. Maybe the guy wasn’t a flake. The way he held her had seemed so genuine, and his mannerisms exhibited signs of one truly remorseful. But there was no denying the furtive twist of his neck every time he craned to look down the deck as if he had somewhere more important to be.

“Look,” she started, “thank you for ummm−” What do you say, “Thank you for saving me after almost killing me?”

“What is your name?”

His attention was no longer divided and it was very disconcerting to be the sole focus of a man so tall, so attractive, and now−so intense.

“I have to be going,” she answered in haste. There was no way in hell she was divulging any information about herself. “Enjoy your cruise.”

Just walk, Jill.

Of course her knee, which had been functioning at 100% capacity decided to act up and deny her a dignified departure. The ACL injury caused it to buckle, but she recovered without him noticing…at least she hoped.

“You don’t look steady. Let me walk you to where you’re going.”

“You have somewhere you need to be,” she reminded, dismayed that the earnestness in his voice played with the breakfast in her stomach. “Please, let’s just forget about this.”

“I owe you sunglasses.”

Jill tipped her head back and sighed. She wanted to manage a biting response, but it just wasn’t in her. And even though she could not see the man’s eyes, his intensity made her suspect that he wasn’t a flake. She looked at the muscular forearms revealed beneath his rolled-up shirtsleeves and noticed the fine welts across his right arm. “I scratched you. We’ll call it even.”

She moved away on shaky legs and refused to look back until the sounds of the lobby engulfed her.