An Impractical Match (Match #2) Page 11

  “Devlin,” Hannah exclaimed.

  “Good morning, Devlin,” said Krista, sitting up straight and smoothing her hair. She was on the lounger closest to the staircase. Her smile for him was broad.

  “Morning,” Devlin responded, doing a double take of her overtly friendly expression.

  She wriggled forward on her lounger, her mesh cover-up revealing tanned legs and a tiny pink bikini. “Did you sleep well?”

  “I did.” His gaze took in Hannah then paused on Jillian.

  “I hear you’re staying in a nice suite.” Krista drew his attention once more.

  “It’s pretty great,” he responded.

  “Krista,” Hannah interrupted. “Why don’t you come with me and check on the mimosas?” She winked at Devlin. “We’re starting the celebration early.”

  Krista waved away the suggestion. “I’m sure the guy will be right back.”

  “I do believe he might have forgotten us.” Hannah pulled herself from the lounger. “As maid of honor, you need to make sure the bride is well hydrated. And I can’t carry all four drinks.”

  Krista hesitated, her lips pursing, but then she rose and walked away with Hannah.

  “Morning,” Devlin said to Jillian, a telltale warmth coming to life in the depths of his eyes.

  She quickly glanced at Morgan and Amelia, but they were clearly absorbed in each other.

  “Morning,” she answered, telling herself to keep it light.

  “Sleep well?”

  “I did.”

  He set himself down on Hannah’s lounger beside her. “So did I.”

  “That’s good.” She tried to keep her tone and expression neutral. She also had to struggle to keep her hormones under control. Just being near him seemed to trip some kind of an arousal switch.

  She couldn’t help but notice that he blended well with the cruise crowd in a smoky golf shirt and steel-gray shorts. His hair looked lighter in the sunshine. His expression seemed less intimidating, too. Of course, that could have been because she’d seen him naked. Not that he looked vulnerable naked. He looked magnificent without his clothes.

  “Been swimming?” he asked, gaze dropping to the wet patches from her suit.

  “I got in a few laps this morning.”

  “I’m guessing you swim a set number?”

  “When I’m home in my routine,” she responded, trying to gauge if there was criticism in the question.

  “We found the mimosas,” Krista sang out. She and Hannah came across the deck, each carrying two tall drinks.

  “Here you go,” Krista presented one to Amelia.

  Morgan quickly scooped it and drank about half before handing it to Amelia. “We can’t have the bride getting drunk.”

  Hannah handed one of the tall orange drinks to Jillian.

  Devlin quickly transferred to sit at the foot of Jillian’s lounger, leaving Hannah’s lounger free for her.

  Jillian scooted her feet out of the way, but not before he surreptitiously brushed one of them with the back of his hand.

  She shot him a glare, but he came back with an unrepentant grin. “You, on the other hand, can get as drunk as you want.”

  “You’re so kind to give me permission.”

  “Jillian has a thing for champagne,” he told Hannah.

  “Champagne is one of life’s great pleasures,” Hannah responded, raising her glass in a toast.

  “Devlin?” Krista sang sweetly from the end of the row.

  “Yes?”

  “My chair back seems to be stuck. Could you take a look at it?”

  “Sure.” Devlin rose, and Jillian realized Krista was doing her best to flirt with him. Clearly, she’d taken Hannah’s complimentary descriptions of him to heart. Or maybe she just thought he was hot, since he was.

  Jillian wasn’t going to be jealous. First off, it was none of her business who flirted with Devlin. And second, women probably did it all the time. With his looks, his wit, and that bad-boy edge, he was probably beating them off with a stick. Or maybe he was simply saying yes. He’d sure said yes quick enough last night.

  The sudden realization nearly made Jillian groan under her breath. Thinking about the way she’d thrown herself at him last night, she knew she had to be just another notch on his bedpost. Lovely.

  Hannah leaned over, her voice at a conspiratorial level. “He’s very good with his hands.”

  Jillian inhaled some mimosa, coughing and wheezing as the bubbles burned her windpipe.

  Hannah gently touched her shoulder. “Are you okay, dear?”

  “Fine,” Jillian managed, tears squeezing out of her eyes. “Down the wrong way.”

  “I should say so.” Hannah gave another sidelong glance to Krista, who was smiling prettily while Devlin tested the mechanism at the back of her lounger. “You know, she’s not his type.”

  Jillian restrained herself from looking over at the two of them. But she didn’t have to look to remember that Krista was very beautiful. “She’s every man’s type.”

  “That’s not how it works,” Hannah asserted with authority.

  The answer intrigued Jillian. “How does it work?”

  “Take Edmund, for example.”

  Jillian stilled. “How do you know about Edmund?”

  “I browsed around in the social media last night. I’m pretty savvy with those electronic thingamabobs.”

  Jillian thanked God for her mimosa, taking another gulp.

  “It never would have worked out for the two of you,” Hannah stated.

  “How could you know that?” Jillian wasn’t even certain herself. If Edmund hadn’t gotten cold feet, if he hadn’t been enticed by Marsha Olson, if he hadn’t made one or two split-second decisions, they might already be living happily ever after.

  “It’s obvious,” said Hannah. She lowered her voice even further. “A man who truly loves you drags you to the altar. He doesn’t leave you standing there for someone else to scoop up.”

  “He’s a good man,” Jillian felt compelled to defend. She hadn’t fallen in love with a jerk.

  Hannah looked surprised. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgiven him.”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything to forgive.”

  For some reason, she hadn’t been what Edmund wanted. That wasn’t his fault. If she hadn’t measured up, it was hers.

  Hannah put a gentle hand on Jillian’s shoulder. “He’s not worthy of you, dear.”

  Under Hannah’s kindness, Jillian’s chest tightened with the insecurity she’d fought for weeks now. “Maybe I’m the one who wasn’t good enough for him.”

  “That’s nonsense.”

  “That should do it,” Devlin said in a clear tone, rolling to his feet.

  “You’re so talented,” Krista raved.

  Jillian couldn’t do anything but agree. Devlin was incredibly talented, and he was fantastic with his hands.

  Even if she was just another bedpost notch for him, she couldn’t help but be glad she’d thrown caution to the wind. An arm’s-length, temporary Adonis had to help her recovery from Edmund. Devlin was like the lime sorbet between courses. He’d cleansed her sexual palate and now, perhaps someday, she’d find someone else.

  o o o o

  Amelia was a stunningly beautiful bride. The ceremony was lighthearted but touching. Morgan was handsome and clearly very much in love. And the dinner was exquisite, delicious and impeccably presented.

  Jillian tried her best to be happy. Everyone around her certainly was. But after a while even the champagne toasts couldn’t bring a smile to her face. She kept picturing her own wedding, the dress, the cake. Why was the stupid cake such a trigger? She couldn’t even bring herself to sample Amelia and Morgan’s cupcakes.

  With the formalities over, she slipped out of the reception, making her way along the dark promenade deck. She’d worn a dress of heavy satin, silver with swirls of gold and black. Dropping to midthigh, it held its own against the night breeze. Her arms were bare and cool, and her dangling, multi
disk earrings tinkled as she walked.

  She passed lighted windows of restaurants and lounges. Music wafted out whenever doors were opened, and a few well-dressed passengers smiled at her as she passed. She made it to the stern, where the engines churned up a bright wake that trailed behind the huge ship. Lights on shore twinkled in the distance.

  Embarrassingly, a tear slipped from her eye. She gripped the rail, telling herself she was being ridiculous. She refused to dissolve into a puddle of emotion over something she couldn’t change. But another tear fell.

  “Jillian?” Devlin’s voice was gentle behind her.

  “Hi,” she greeted, surreptitiously swiping the back of her hand across her cheek.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine, why?”

  He came up beside her on the rail. “Because you snuck out the back door, looking like you couldn’t wait to escape from the party.”

  “Everything was under control. And I’m not exactly a regular guest.”

  Devlin nodded, seeming to accept her explanation. Then he was silent for a few minutes. “You’re not over him, are you?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  He angled his body to face her. “It’s okay, you know. It was a terrible thing that happened to you.”

  “I’m not pathetic.”

  “Nobody said you were.”

  “I can handle it.”

  “Nobody said you couldn’t.”

  She turned her head to glare up at him. “I didn’t ask for your sympathy.”

  “Well, I’m asking for your honesty.”

  She set her jaw.

  “Something upset you back there. I’m guessing it was watching a sublimely happy couple get married so soon after your own wedding fell apart. And I’m thinking that makes perfect sense. And, honestly, I’m feeling a little guilty that it never occurred to me before that you might find it difficult to plan my sister’s wedding.”

  “It was the cupcakes,” Jillian blurted out.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “I couldn’t eat a cupcake.”

  It took him a moment to respond. “Calories?”

  She laughed at the absurdity of the question. “Yeah. I was worried about the calories.”

  “I like it when you laugh,” he told her.

  Suddenly, some of the angst went out of her. She felt lighter, remembering the feeling of lying with him in bed. “I like it when you smile.”

  His hand engulfed hers, and he turned to gaze over the rail. “This is a great view.”

  “I love watching the wake.” She felt her emotions settle back down. “I don’t know what it is. Something about being in motion, something about leaving your troubles behind.” Her high-heeled shoes were pinching her feet, and she shifted her weight.

  “I think I understand.”

  “If it wasn’t for these agonizing shoes, I could stand here and watch it all night long.”

  He gave her hand a gentle squeeze. “You want to come up to my stateroom?”

  Her stomach hollowed out. Her emotions were too confused. Her feelings seemed too raw to cope with making love with him again. “Uh, I don’t know, Devlin.”

  “I didn’t mean that.” His tone was gentle. “I’m sorry, Jillian. I didn’t mean that at all.” He pointed above them. “I meant that my balcony faces aft, and I’ve got some really comfy deck furniture. You can sit up there and watch the wake as long as you like. I don’t even have to be there with you.”

  She was embarrassed at having jumped to the wrong conclusion. His hand around hers was comforting, not intrusive. She wanted him to stay with her.

  “That sounds very nice,” she told him. “Thank you. And it’s fine if you’re there with me.”

  “As long as I keep my clothes on this time?”

  Her mouth curved into a grin. “You were supposed to forget all about that.”

  He drew back, urging her to come with him. “I’m working on it.”

  She stepped away from the rail, walking with him to the staircase.

  “What about you?” he asked as they started up.

  “What about me?”

  “Any luck forgetting?”

  She’d had no luck whatsoever. “Forgetting what?”

  He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Atta girl.”

  “It’s all mind over matter,” she told him breezily. “Everything is mind over matter.” She needed to remember that.

  “Brains have never been my strong suit.” He pointed to an archway at the top of a landing. “To the left.”

  “That’s not what your Aunt Hannah says. She told me you’re brilliant. In fact, too smart for the engineering program, and that’s why you quit.”

  Devlin laughed. “That’s the family mythology. They can never say, ‘He’s a mechanic.’ It’s always, ‘He could have been an engineer.’”

  “Do you know why?”

  He used his key card to open the stateroom door. “Because I’m the only person in my family without a college degree, and they see it as an abject failure.”

  The door swung wide.

  She walked inside. “I don’t understand.”

  “Sure you do.”

  “Good grief. This place is huge.” Jaw dropping, she paced her way through the living area, glancing into the separate bedroom and the dining alcove. She pivoted when she came to the balcony doors.

  The lighting was muted but bright enough to show the overstuffed furniture, the rich carpet, and the fine paintings on the walls. The dining table was decorated with flowers, while the coffee table held a basket of fruit.

  “I saw all the prices,” she told Devlin. “I can’t even imagine who would rent this on a longer cruise.”

  “Some of my car customers,” he offered, letting the door close behind him.

  “You fix expensive cars?” she asked.

  “Go ahead and check out the balcony,” he offered, walking forward to slide open the glass door. “Some of what we work on is expensive, yes. You want something to drink? Wine? Champagne?”

  She stepped through the open door, taking in the magnificent view of the sparkling wake. The scent of salt hung heavy on the air. The sky was pitch black, with no stars visible, emphasizing the city lights on shore. She couldn’t resist moving to the rail, resting her hands on the smooth, polished wood.

  “Okay, this is what I would want,” she called over her shoulder. “You know, if I had more money than God.”

  Devlin came out behind her, pulling the door shut before stepping up to the rail. He handed her a glass of red wine.

  “It’s a merlot. I thought I’d change it up a little.”

  “Good choice.” She couldn’t take her eyes off the view. “Did you sit out here last night?”

  “I did.”

  A flash lit up the sky in the distance, then another and another. They were followed by muted rumbles of thunder.

  “Our own private light show,” he told her.

  “Do you think it’ll rain?”

  “It might.” He gestured behind them to a pair of padded deck chairs. The back half of the balcony was covered by the deck above. “Have a seat and pretend you’re rich for a while.”

  The wind gusted against her bare arms, and she gave a little shiver.

  “Here.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and draped it around her shoulders.

  The satin was warm against her skin, the weight of the coat slightly heavy.

  “Thanks.” She sat down, then she leaned back, sinking into the comfort of the contoured chair. The jacket felt deliciously toasty, and she lifted her feet onto the sloped stool. She pushed her toes against the opposite sandal, trying to dislodge it.

  “Let me,” Devlin offered.

  He set down his wineglass and gently removed each of her sandals. His square hands were warm and sure against her feet, sending a now familiar wave of desire singing through her blood. She ignored it. This wasn’t about sex. It was about enjoying a view and enjoying his company.

 
He loosened his tie and sat down in the other chair, settling his feet on the matching stool.

  “Cheers,” he offered, holding out his glass.

  She clinked hers against his as the thunder rumbled once again in the distance. Then she took a sip of the full-bodied wine and settled back to gaze out at the vast ocean. “Do you suppose they’d notice if I didn’t get off?”

  “You’d like to stay on board?” he asked.

  “This ship is going all the way to the Panama Canal, and then over to Miami. It takes about a month. But then it’s a short hop from Miami to DC.”

  “You’d miss the race.”

  “Ah, yes. The race.”

  “We’re all counting on you, Jillian.”

  “Is Katie entering?”

  “If she wants to. I’m encouraging Riley and Spike both to enter.”

  “Do they have a shot?”

  “Riley has a good chance of doing well. And the experience will be good for him. Spike’s got some growing to do. Griffin, well, he’s not as athletic as the other two. But he’s got heart.”

  “What about Katie?”

  “She hasn’t been riding very long. The girls’ field is also very competitive.”

  “Do you think she has talent?”

  “I think she has spirit. And I think she has coordination. And she’s got an off-the-charts work ethic.”

  “But talent?” Jillian pressed, wondering if he was beating around the bush on purpose.

  “She doesn’t have a natural affinity for motocross, no. Not like Riley. But that doesn’t necessarily mean she won’t succeed.”

  “Why do you think she’s so determined?”

  “Teenagers seem to need to fixate on something. For some reason, she picked bikes. I have to say, motocross is a lot more positive than some of the things they can get into.”

  “What about you?” Jillian found herself curious. “What did you fixate on as a teenager?”

  He chuckled. “I took things apart and put them back together again. Sometimes I broke them, sometimes I didn’t. But I liked to figure out how stuff worked.”

  “Hence, your interest in engineering.”

  “Hence, my interest in internal combustion engines. I particularly liked making things go fast.”

  “Well, I liked boys,” she admitted, feeling in the mood for blunt honesty.