Chapter One
“You did what?” Burke Morgan stared in disbelief at his chief crewman—his only crewman.
A broad smile creased Dorsey Apolo’s smooth, wide face as he dropped two stuffed duffel bags on the deck next to his feet. “Took a job Down Under, mate.”
The sea breeze whipped at Burke’s hair, and the Caribbean sun beat down on his neck. Another perfect day in paradise. Until a second ago anyway. “First, I can’t tell you how wrong it is for a Polynesian guy to do an Aussie accent. And a bad one at that. But more wrong is you ditching me on the eve of our first tour.” He motioned to the bags at Dorsey’s feet. “When did you get the offer? When were you going to tell me?”
“I’m telling you now. And I’m sorry, bruddah. Truly.”
Burke snorted. Dorsey was all but vibrating with excitement. His dark eyes were gleaming, and he was fidgeting like a toddler. A big man with a graying braid that hung halfway down his back and deeply grooved creases fanning out around his dark eyes, he was seventy-five going on twenty-five. It was one of the traits Burke most enjoyed about him. Not as amusing at the moment, however.
“I’ve never sailed down there,” Dorsey said. “You know I’ve always wanted to. We’re going through Whitsunday, in the Barrier Reef. Brand new, forty-seven-foot Chincogan cat,” he said almost dreamily. “One honeymoon couple and I’m captain and crew. Six weeks, then I’ll be back.”
Burke’s eyes bugged. “Six weeks? That’s mid-February. The season will be half over by then. One hell of a honeymoon.”
“Young couple has deep pockets.”
“Which we don’t,” Burke reminded him.
“Yet,” Dorsey said with a wink. “You’re going to make a go of this new enterprise, I’m sure of it. I’ve nothing but faith in you.”
“I’ve got faith in me, too,” Burke replied. “But that faith was partly based on the fact that you were going to crew for me my first season out.” Privately he’d been hoping they’d team up even longer. Burke had been crewing all over the Caribbean and the South Pacific since he’d left home at seventeen. Some kids dreamed of joining the circus, but ever since the time old man Ramsay had taken him out on the Chesapeake Bay fishing, Burke had dreamed of running his own charter. Only somewhere a lot warmer.
He’d hooked up with Dorsey for the first time at nineteen, on a Scandinavian owned charter out of the Lesser Antilles. The two had worked together often in the thirteen years since. The charismatic Hawaiian had been father figure, mentor, compatriot, and brother-in-arms to Burke. He trusted him like he trusted no one else, save perhaps his three brothers.
But his brothers weren’t supposed to help him crew the exceedingly wealthy and very well connected George and Tutti Wetherington around the islands from Christmas through New Years. He’d been counting on Dorsey for that. Heavily. He didn’t realize just how heavily until now. Burke was a decent people person, but his skills were mostly centered around being the dependable, take charge kind of guy that clients could feel comfortable being captained by. Dorsey was the colorful character that clients loved and remembered. His cooking was out of this world, and the wild and oftentimes ribald tales he told of his fiftysome-odd years sailing the tropics charmed clients no matter their income bracket.
“We’ve got bookings straight into March, Dorse, and a lot of the word of mouth that got us those clients was as much for your reputation as it was my ability to steer a damn boat. What the hell am I supposed to do?”
“Ah, don’t get your trunks in a twist,” Dorsey admonished. “I wouldn’t leave you in dry dock, you know that. I got it covered. My oldest granddaughter, Kamala, is gonna help you out till I get back. And you might not want me back when you get a taste of her cooking.” His grin widened, if that was possible. “She’s a hell of a lot easier on the eyes, too.”
Burke didn’t say anything to that. He’d seen assorted photos of the ever-expanding Apolo clan over the years. They were a hardy, stout bunch, regardless of gender. But her looks didn’t concern him at the moment. His eyes narrowed. “I thought none of your kids or grandkids sailed. You bitch and moan about that every time you come back from a visit home.”
Dorsey was a wanderer, but as a much younger man, he’d managed to stay in Kauai long enough to marry and have three children with his now ex-wife, Lana. He hadn’t been around much for them, or for his seven grandchildren. But now that his older grandchildren were having children, and the years were adding up, he’d started to feel a bit of regret over that. Not that Burke thought for a second that he’d have been capable of staying in one place even if he’d wanted to, but to give the old man credit, since his great-grandchildren had started popping up, he’d made an effort to stay better connected. He went back home when he could, spending longer and longer periods of time there now, during the slow season.
Unlike Burke, who had been home to Virginia only once in the fifteen years since he’d left Rogues Hollow. Escaped, actually. That one visit had been almost exactly a year ago, last Christmas, when his estranged father had passed away. The visit made him miss his brothers more now; seeing them all again had been the only positive part of that holiday trek. The rest he didn’t miss at all. To him, the holiday season meant steady work. Work that he loved. And this Christmas, he’d given himself the best present of all: realizing his dream of captaining his own charter. That was about as sentimental as he got.
“Yes, I know,” Dorsey was saying, unable to hide his unending disappointment. “Two sons and a daughter. Seven grandchildren.” He sighed heavily. “Not a seafarer in the bunch. Where did I go wrong?”
“We are not going there, okay?” Burke had heard this rant more times than he could count. “Besides, I figured if you were going to ditch me, it would be to head home and hold the newest great-grandbaby of yours.”
Dorsey shook his head. “I’m no good with diapers and bottles, brah. I’ll wait until they’re walking and properly housebroken. Old enough to take out on the water and teach them to sail.”
“You don’t give up, I’ll give you that,” Burke said, fighting the smile that was always near the surface when Dorsey was around. “You Apolos don’t believe in waiting too long to start up the production, do you?” They didn’t believe in waiting long to get married either. Dorsey’s youngest granddaughter, the one who had just given birth, was barely past her twentieth birthday. “Didn’t Malani just get married earlier this year?”
“What can I say?” His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. “We’re a passionate, impetuous lot.”
“If that’s your way of saying horny and impatient, with no apparent access to birth control, then I suppose you’re right.”
Dorsey just laughed. “Well, we may start young, but the Apolo family is strong. Lana sees to that. I’m the one disgrace to the family tree, and you’d best believe she won’t tolerate another.”
Burke had never met Dorsey’s ex-wife, but from the tales he’d told, he didn’t doubt for a moment that Lana was a clan matriarch of the most controlling order. “I’m surprised she’s agreeing to Kamala coming all the way down here, and over the holidays to boot.”
Dorsey’s smile tightened a bit, and he looked out across the water. “Yes, well, Kamala is a grown woman, almost thirty. She can make her own decisions.”
“Then she takes after her grandfather.” Despite the tension in Dorsey’s tone, Burke heard the underlying thread of pride. There was more to that story, he was sure, but he wasn’t going to press. The only important thing was running his trip as planned. “So you say she’s a good cook?” Traditionally, small charters like his, which boarded at most four guests at a time, attracted their following by offering as much luxury as possible while tooling around the islands. And top on that list was a competitive gourmet menu. Dorsey’s menus weren’t so much haute cuisine as they were innovative, but his charm and presentation went a long way toward making his meals memorable occasions. If Burke were left in charge of the galley, they’d all be eating scrambled eggs and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. He suspected that wouldn’t cut it with the Wetheringtons.
“Oh, she’s more than that,” Dorsey said, his smile one of pride. “She’s trained and worked in some of the best restaurants in the islands. L.A., now.”
“She’s stateside? I thought Lana liked to keep her flock close.”
“That much is true. But Kamala, well, she has her own ideas about things.”
Burke wondered just what he was getting himself into here. A sturdy Polynesian babe wielding sharp knives and an attitude wasn’t exactly painting a positive picture. Nor was it conducive to providing the atmosphere necessary to charm the customers.
“She’s saving up to open her own catering business,” Dorsey went on, conveniently glossing over what Burke suspected was a rift in the Apolo family.
Which was none of his business. Lana and the rest of the outspoken, opinionated clan were thousands of miles away. Hardly a concern of his. And, as Dorsey said, if she was staring at thirty, Kamala was certainly an adult, able to make her own decisions. “How is it she has six weeks free?” Burke frowned. “Wait a minute, how much did you tell her I was paying? Because it’s one thing for you to take your cut, with your experience. But—”
Dorsey waved him silent. “She gets my cut,” he stated flatly. “If you don’t think she’s worth it by the time I get back, I’ll make up the difference myself.”
Burke started to argue, but there wasn’t much he could say to that arrangement. He didn’t like being put in the middle of a family situation, which he suspected was exactly where Dorsey had plunked him, but he wasn’t exactly in a position to refuse his offer either. Which, he also suspected his old friend had thought out in advance. Dorsey was as wily as he was charming.
“Well, don’t think that just because she’s related to you I’m going to go easy on her,” Burke warned him. “She has to pull her own weight, same as anyone.”
“She’ll do fine,” he said, quite confidently. But then Dorsey was the most optimistic man Burke had ever met. Which, in the past, had complemented Burke’s somewhat more pessimistic views quite nicely. Dorsey winked at him. “I’m leaving her in good hands, after all.”
“We’ll see,” was all Burke said, ignoring the first niggling suspicion that threatened to form. Dorsey, better than anyone, understood the nomadic ways of a sailor. No way would he play matchmaker, especially with one of his own. “When is she supposed to arrive?” Burke asked. “For that matter, where is she supposed to arrive?” They were docked in Antigua, which had a decent airport, but they were supposed to be under way early that afternoon, heading toward Barbuda, where Burke’s very first private charter guests awaited. They were slated to set sail tomorrow, for a ten-day trip through the Lesser Antilles, ending back here just after the new year.
Dorsey lifted one duffel and heaved it onto the pier. “She’s catching a prop job in from Miami, due in an hour or so from now. I figured we’d meet up at the airport and I’d send her on to you from there.” He heaved the second bag onto the pier, his massive brown shoulders barely flexing under the burden, then tossed a gleaming smile over his shoulder. “Unless of course you’d like to come with me, send me off in style. I could introduce you in person.”
Burke shook his head, ignoring the twinkle in Dorsey’s eyes. “You know we have—or should I say, I have—” he corrected pointedly, “too much to do before heading out.” He hoped Kamala didn’t mind jumping right in. It was going to take another set of hands if he was going to get them under way on time.
Dorsey levered his huge body effortlessly onto the pier, next to the bags. “Understood.” He brushed off his Polynesian print docker shorts and planted his beefy hands on his waist. He was a smooth-skinned giant in a tie-dyed T-shirt, smiling in the face of Burke’s doubtful expression. “Don’t worry so much, kaina. She’ll be a good fit for you. I promise.” He lifted one duffel over his shoulder, then bent to pick up the other. “Who knows,” Dorsey added with a wink, “she might be the second best thing that ever happened to you.”
The knot in the pit of Burke’s stomach tightened, and the idea that there was more going on here than giving his granddaughter a simple temp job was growing increasingly hard to ignore. But he did a good job of it. “Yeah? And the first best thing?”
Dorsey headed off the docks, toward the gravel parking lot where an island taxi waited. “Why, me of course,” he called back, as expected, his rich, booming laugh filling the warm December air. “Aloha ‘oe!”
Frustration and dread notwithstanding, he was smiling as he waved his friend off. “Mahalo,” he called back. Such was the life they led, he supposed. A wanderer by nature himself, he could hardly expect any different from somebody who was just like him. The timing sucked, but he didn’t hold it against Dorsey. They were all rainbow chasers.
He turned back and ran his gaze critically over the polished rails and newly refurbished rigging. His rainbow ended right here. Fifteen years of longing, of saving every extra dime. She wasn’t brand new, or the latest model, but she was all his. Making Waves, owned and captained by Burke Morgan, was ready for service.
Or would be, he thought, his smile fading. As soon as his first mate arrived.
It didn’t occur to him until a few hours later, when the sound of crunching gravel had him looking up from tweaking with the electric mainsail winch, that he’d never gotten a clear answer from Dorsey on whether she’d ever sailed.
He wiped his hands on the rag stuck in the waistband of his faded khaki shorts. Surely Dorsey wouldn’t have sent her here if she didn’t know her way around a boat. Then again, once they were under way, it wasn’t as though she really had to do anything other than cook and hostess the guests, follow the occasional simple direction. But it would make him feel a hell of a lot better if she had at least a working knowledge of sailing. Just in case.
He was already making a mental list of who he could get to replace her after this trip was over—he didn’t care who she was related to, or how much she needed the cash; if she couldn’t pull her weight, she was gone ten days from now—when the cab stopped at the end of the pier and the rear door opened.
And a pair of endlessly long, tanned and toned legs emerged, followed by snug white shorts and a belly-baring red top that hugged a body the way God had certainly intended a body like hers to be hugged. When she finally straightened and shook her long black hair back over her shoulders, Burke realized he’d been right about one thing. Sturdy she was, indeed. There was definitely a whole lot of Apolo currently striding toward him. Only in Kamala’s case, every bit of it was packaged in a way that would drive any man with a pulse straight to his knees, in ready begging position.
He automatically moved toward the side of the boat, thinking maybe he was a bit more sentimental about Christmas than he’d thought. “Thank you, Santa,” he murmured in abject appreciation.
And to think, he hadn’t even been a very good boy this year.
He only hoped he’d read that twinkle right and Dorsey meant it when he’d said she’d be in good hands. Because the next couple of weeks were going to be pure hell if he had to keep his off of her.