SeaChange Read online

  * * * * *

  Heidi woke to darkness and pain. The last time her head had felt like this had been the morning after her one and only frat party as an undergrad. The one where she’d ended up dancing on the lawn. She wondered what idiotic stunt she’d pulled this time.

  She flung out a hand for the bedside lamp and then whimpered in additional pain when her fingers slammed into something hard. Like a wall. The bed beneath her was hard too, come to think of it. Hard and wet. This was definitely not her bed. So where was she and why couldn’t she remember?

  “Ssh. Relax. You’re going to be all right.” The words were gentle, the voice deep and soft and calming. Fingers touched her brow, smoothed her hair. She felt an odd sensation of safety and warmth around her. Soothed, Heidi drifted back to sleep.

  When she woke again, there was light. Sort of. She recognized the dim glow of an incandescent bulb. When her vision cleared she could see that two lamps were on, reflecting off burnished pine paneling. Outside the small window, the sky was still dark. The bed beneath her was bigger and softer than where she’d been before. And it rocked. Ah. She was on a boat.

  Boat! Heidi jerked into a sitting position as the memories came flooding back. She remembered the plane, the cigarette boat, the drug deal. Her stomach rebelled at her movement, but she clenched her arms around her midriff and clamped down on the nausea as she tried to remember everything that had happened. And then she remembered the shooting. “Brad!” she screamed, forgetting that she might be a captive of the drug-runners, that she might want to feign continued unconsciousness.

  The door opened and a man stepped inside. He was tall, several inches more than Heidi, and had to stoop to enter the cabin. He was also one of the most gorgeous men she’d ever seen, with long, wavy black hair and eyes as dark as sin. Instead of the gun she’d half expected, he held a chipped black mug in his hand.

  “Thirsty?”

  Oh God, was she ever. She studied him for a moment, trying to remember if she’d seen him on the cigarette boat. No way to be sure. In the darkness, she hadn’t seen them all that clearly. She should refuse. Of course, if he’d wanted her dead he could have just left her in the ocean. And she really, really needed that drink. “Thanks.” Her voice was hoarse and cracked.

  He walked closer, handed her the mug. He must have seen her hands shake as she tried to grasp it because he eased it into her grip, then wrapped his own hand around hers to help her bring it to her lips. She ignored the tingle she felt at his touch. The tea was lukewarm and very sweet. Heidi hated sugared tea but she drank it, recognizing that her body needed the fuel to fight off shock. She sipped slowly until she’d consumed half the mug, then pushed it away.

  “Brad,” she asked again, her voice a little stronger this time. “My partner. Did you find him?” She wanted nothing more than to jump into the water and go find him herself, but she knew she wasn’t capable.

  “I’m sorry.” His eyes were dark brown, almost black, intense and mesmerizing. She felt like she could look into them for hours. And she saw the flash of regret in them even before he answered. “I searched for about an hour, but I only found you.”

  “Not even…” She hated to say it. “A body?”

  He shook his head and the long, shaggy black waves tumbled around a face that could have been sculpted by Michelangelo. Empathy poured off him in waves. He couldn’t be one of the dope runners. Could he? “No. I’m really sorry,” he repeated.

  “Did you shoot him?” The words came out before she could edit them, damn her fuzzy head. But maybe it was better to get it out in the open. “Are you one of the drug runners?”

  “Me? Hell no!” He let go of her hand, straightened up and glared at her, his eyes wide and his nostrils flared. His affronted expression would have been almost comical if the situation hadn’t been so important. “I was taking a midnight cruise, saw the shooting and the wreck. I went in after the cigarette boat left to look for survivors.”

  She sighed, sagged back against the pillows. “Thank you. And I’m sorry I’m such a mess.” Her voice cracked, but she fought the tears. She could cry for Brad later, when she didn’t feel so numb. Right now she needed to get home, report his death. And maybe, she thought, squeezing her eyes shut against the pain, get some painkillers for this concussion. Clothes would be good too. She realized she was wearing a T-shirt and nothing more. How humiliating to have had a total stranger, and a hot one at that, undress her.

  “I’ve got aspirin,” he offered, his warm voice soft and gentle again. “Nothing stronger, I’m afraid. Aspirin and Bactine are about the extent of my drug-running. And you’re already wearing most of the Bactine.”

  “Aspirin would be great.”

  He crossed to a cabinet with a small mirror above. Windows on three sides told her she was in the very stern of the boat. The cabin was made of polished teak paneling, with lots of built-in storage. Gorgeous, like its owner. The man withdrew a bottle and shook some pills into his hand. The he returned to her, curled the fingers of one of her hands around the mug, pressed three tablets into her other palm. “Here you go. We’re on course for San Diego; I can get you to a hospital once we get there in about two, two-and-a-half hours. I wasn’t sure Mexico would be safe.”

  She swallowed the aspirin with the rest of the tea. “Thank you,” she whispered, letting the tears fill her eyes this time. There was nothing she could do at the moment anyway, not ‘til they got to shore. “San Diego’s great, but I don’t need the hospital. When we dock, I can call somebody to come get me, I think. My car’s in Mexico. Do you have a cell phone? Mine was on the Zodiac.”

  “I was thinking of calling an ambulance,” he told her, studying her as if trying to gauge the extent of her injuries. “Does anything hurt besides your skull? You’ve got a nasty knock on the right temple.”

  She thought for a second, wiggled her fingers and toes, and flexed her major muscle groups. “No. Some aches and bruises, but the only real sore spot is the side of my head. And since you gave me the aspirin, that should calm down to a dull roar. I’ve had concussions before, I know the drill. I don’t need to go to the hospital.”

  He shrugged. “Up to you.”

  “What time is it?” The shooting had happened right after midnight, she remembered. She’d seen the time on her phone when she’d checked for a signal.

  “About four. By the time I got you on board and cleaned up, it was almost two. And I headed out to sea quite a bit. I didn’t want to run into the guys in the other boat.”

  “Good call. Thank you.” That meant he had searched the sea for at least an hour, like he’d said. It helped to know he’d really looked for Brad. It felt less as if she was abandoning her friend, though some part of her wanted to do nothing more than curl up and scream out her grief. She was sure that would hit eventually, after the numbness of shock had worn off. She’d been like this when her parents died—very calm and lucid at first, then a total wreck for days after the funeral. Brad had been there to help her through their deaths. How would she manage now, alone?

  Then another thought popped into her rattled brain. “How did you know there were two of us?”

  “You passed me earlier. You waved.”

  She frowned, trying to remember. They’d passed several other boats. She looked around for hints, her eyes taking in the vintage look of the cabin, which was austerely furnished but beautifully maintained. Then it dawned. “The old wooden cruiser. You were reading on the sundeck.” She remembered the boat, had remarked on the gorgeous antique. Brad had laughed, calling her old-fashioned. He’d always preferred sleek, modern styles and tons of horsepower. She’d noticed the man too, come to think of it, just hadn’t made the connection when she’d seen him with a shirt on. Brad had agreed with her taste on that count.

  “Bingo. Welcome aboard the Siren. Forty-two feet of wooden glory, vintage 1937.”

  “She’s a beauty.” Heidi wriggled. Damn, she really had to go to the bathroom. The movement made her aware of stin
ging pains in at least a dozen locations. She must have winced.

  “Thanks, I like to think so.” He set the mug down, turned to leave, then paused at the door. “I’m Jake, by the way. I’ve seen you naked, but I don’t even know your name.”

  “Heidi,” she replied automatically. She felt her face flush and turned her eyes down, noting the faded orange Jimmy Buffett T-shirt she wore. She hoped he hadn’t been too disgusted by what he’d seen. Mustering a smile, she looked back up to meet his gaze. “Heidi Eriksen.”

  “Nice name.” He gave her a nod and a half-smile. “Mine is Jake Delos.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jake.” She held out her hand, and the sheet she had pulled up to her waist fell to her thighs. She hastily pulled the sheet back up to her waist, felt another blush that probably turned her whole face bright red.

  “I had to take off the wetsuit,” he told her apologetically. He didn’t move back into the room to take her hand. “You were chilled, and I didn’t want you going into shock.”

  “Right,” she agreed through gritted teeth. “Can I have it back?”

  “It got pretty shredded in the wreck. I couldn’t tell how badly you were hurt, so I cut the rest away. Your bikini’s hanging in the head, though, and I’ll get you something to wear over it.” He rummaged in a drawer, came up with a pair of drawstring running shorts, which he tossed to her. He jerked his thumb toward a door on the far wall. “Head’s through there. Yell if you need anything.”

  Duh, head. Even after all the time Heidi had spent on boats in the last few years, it still took her a second to realize he’d pointed her toward the bathroom. Then he turned and left the room, closing the door with a near-silent snick, and Heidi was alone.

  * * * * *

  What was he going to do with her? He’d planned to drop her at the nearest ER, notify the Coast Guard, and get the hell out of her life. She was pretty banged up, could have any number of internal injuries that he didn’t know about, definitely had a minor concussion. But she’d seemed pretty determined about avoiding the hospital. He told himself it wasn’t any of his business. She was a big girl, and once they docked she’d no longer be Jake’s concern.

  Wanting to be sure she was steady enough to walk on her own, he stayed with his ear pressed to the wooden cabin door until he heard her footsteps pass and the door to the head click shut. Fine then. She was up and mobile. It was up to her if she wanted medical attention.

  He thought about her sitting there in his bed, mostly naked, and a totally inappropriate bolt of lust shot all the way through him. He wasn’t going to do anything about it of course. She was too vulnerable right now and he wasn’t that big an asshole. But, damn, she was magnificent with her Viking build, and when she’d been thinking, a tiny crease had formed between her white-blonde eyebrows, making him want to smooth the wrinkle out with his thumb—or his lips.

  Hell! For all he knew, the man who’d died last night had been her lover—or husband. Even though she’d stayed calm, he’d seen the shock and grief behind her tear-filled blue eyes. Which is why he should turn her over to the cops, get back on his boat, and forget he’d ever met her. Another place, another time, he might have had a good time with her, but the present combination sucked out loud.

  “Right, then,” he muttered to himself, climbing the narrow stairs. He’d take her to the cops, give his own statement, then he’d be out of it. He’d refuel the boat, stock up on groceries and head back to sea. He hadn’t been to Hawaii in a while, or Tahiti. Maybe if he found himself a dark-skinned beauty to play with, he’d be able to forget about long blonde hair, haunted blue eyes and the body of a Norse goddess. Maybe.

  Chapter Two

  “What a beautiful butt,” Heidi murmured to herself as she watched her rescuer leave. Shit! Boat. She’d meant boat, not butt. Aw, hell, she admitted to herself while limping across the cabin to the bathroom, or head. She’d meant both. From what little she’d seen so far, Jake Delos and his boat were pretty much equally mouthwatering. And equally out of reach. She’d never have the money for a boat like this, not in a million years, and the man was way out of her league too. A guy like that could take his pick and probably did.

  Animal behaviorists have to take a lot of psychology classes. Heidi was fully aware that she was focusing on her attractive savior to avoid the feelings of loss and grief that threatened to overwhelm her. As long as it was working. If she gave in to her real emotions, she’d be a quivering lump on the floor. First she had to get back to San Diego and deal with the authorities. Then she could collapse.

  The bathroom was tiny but clean and functional. Whoever Jake Delos was, he didn’t share his boat with a woman. The only hint of femininity in the room was her bikini hanging from the door to the shower. She gave it a quick study, found a little damage but nothing major. It even smelled faintly of soap instead of seawater. What a sweetheart. He’d washed her suit, which would work as underwear. And it was mostly dry—thank heavens she’d paid a little more for the fast-drying fabric. The T-shirt she was wearing was a little snug to wear in public with nothing underneath it.

  She used the facilities, then stepped into the tiny shower and washed with the bar of green deodorant soap and bottle of store brand conditioning shampoo she found. It felt intimate, even a little naughty, to be using his toiletries, but she didn’t really have much choice. Even if just thinking about him was making her hot, she had no business going there. Not right now. Then thoughts of Brad punched through the numbness and the tears welled up again. One more time, she squashed them down by imagining what her host would look like without his shorts and T-shirt.

  The hot water lasted only a few minutes, so Heidi pulled herself together and washed in the cold spray, carefully cleaning the abrasion on her scalp. Something had hit her in the head when the Zodiac flipped. She’d probably never know what. She dried off with a towel that smelled like a man, and once again an image of Jake Delos formed in her mind, this time unbidden. Was it just her body crying out to reaffirm life after her brush with death? Her knees gave out and she sat down hard on the lid of the toilet.

  The pain that spiked through her temple jolted her enough to shake off the wave of lust. Sort of. She couldn’t get him out of her mind as she put on her swimsuit, then pulled the knit cotton shorts over it. They were a little snug too. Even though Delos was a big guy, it figured his butt was narrower than hers. Heidi had long ago given up on the concept of looking like a fashion model. Though she was strong from constant hiking, swimming and diving, she wasn’t and never would be thin. She could starve herself and be sturdy, or she could eat pretty much whatever she wanted and maintain an extra fifteen—okay, twenty—pounds. Thank you, Norse ancestors. The small room was warm from the shower, or maybe it was just her, but she left off the shirt.

  She found a comb beside the sink and used it to untangle her hair, being extra careful to avoid tugging on the painful wound on her right temple. Her elastic ponytail band was long gone, so she’d have to leave the heavy mass down. As she worked, she bit her lip to stave off the tears as she mentally reviewed the steps she’d need to take in the next few hours. Number one—police. She wondered if they’d mind if she went home for a change of clothing first. Yeah, they probably would. That made clean clothes number two on the list. Afterward, she’d have to call Brad’s parents and the university. She and Brad had both been post-doctoral fellows at the Weston Oceanographic Institute, working on an off-site research project for the summer. She’d have a huge pile of explanations to make there, including the loss of the Zodiac, the digital video equipment and the waterproof laptop. Then she could crawl into bed and cry herself senseless.

  Her stomach growled. Okay, food was going to have to be in there somewhere too, if she wanted to stay functional. Maybe they could hit a drive-through on the way to the cops.

  She straightened up the head, hung up the towel she’d used. Time to face him again. As she passed the clock in the bedroom, she saw that only half an hour had passed. Damn, that me
ant she’d have to make small talk for another ninety minutes.

  She left the bedroom portion of the cabin and emerged into a large space that filled the center of the boat. Along one wall was a galley area with shiny stainless steel appliances and a booth-style dining table big enough for six, and the rest was a living room—salon, she remembered, it was called on a boat. Built-in bookshelves lined the walls below the windows, interspersed with leather-covered sofas and cabinets. One wall held an oil painting that looked even older than the boat, while another held a large-screen plasma TV. The boat, just like the man, was a study in contrasts. A door next to the galley led to the engine room, while another at the far end opened into the bow, which held a smaller cabin set up as an office rather than a second bedroom. The tiny space held a computer desk with a laptop and even more books. Finally, all that was left was to go up the stairs to the deck and face the future.

  * * * * *

  Jake sat at the helm in the enclosed bow section of the upper deck and stared out at the ocean, trying to avoid thinking about his passenger. He knew his reaction to her was inappropriate under the circumstances, but he just couldn’t get the image of her sky-blue eyes out of this mind. Suddenly, as if he’d conjured her, she appeared in the doorway between the pilothouse and the sundeck.

  “Any problems?” Her voice was still hoarse from the seawater she’d swallowed, but it was steady now. She’d obviously pulled herself together while she’d cleaned up; she looked better too, sad but not broken, and physically stable. Heidi was going to be okay, he decided, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. He wouldn’t have to worry about not getting her checked over. The only thing he really wished was that she’d put his shirt back on over the bikini top.