Going back to go forward

Daniel Del Rio never could say no to Maria Santiago. So although their relationship is over, when she asks him to sail her to the Bahamas, he reluctantly agrees. She’s convinced that revisiting the scene of her accident will restore her memory. If it does, then maybe he can finally let go and move on with his life.

But moving on seems impossible when being in such close quarters reminds him of what they once had. Could their proximity be having the same effect on her? As he falls for Maria, Daniel realizes he has to confess his role in the accident…even if that confession could cost him a second chance with her.

Daniel gently pulled Maria to the helm

He planted both her hands on the steering wheel, then stepped away. Maria stood with her profile to him.

She pushed her glasses onto the bridge of her nose in a nervous gesture.

He placed a hand over hers and moved the wheel, adjusting their heading. Then he moved closer, his chest pressing against her left arm. Her warm, sweet scent mixed with coconut sunscreen invaded his senses and his next thought flew out of his head.

Wanting to be closer, he moved behind her, wrapping his arms around her body. Together they moved the wheel. The heat from her skin blended with his, weaving some intoxicating thread around them. Did she feel the wind funneling through the sails and over their bodies?

Yeah, she did.

He indulged the luxury of closing his eyes to revel in her body heat and perfume. This moment was all too familiar...and Maria didn’t even know.

Dear Reader,

I wish I knew you personally to thank you for purchasing my first Harlequin Superromance book! Writing Where It Began was dear to me because it was based on a trip to the Bahamas with my husband for our twenty-fifth wedding anniversary. The beauty of the Abacos, the reefs and the remote location acted as a catalyst for Daniel and Maria’s love story.

Raised as a power-boat kid, transitioning to sailing after marriage proved more difficult than I imagined. In the power-boat world, a heeling (tilting) boat means trouble, and setting the boat in motion merely requires turning a key. Learning sailboat rigging and handling sails taught me much about the power of nature and the joy of harnessing the wind. Also, as in relationships, finally letting go of the boat’s lifelines to enjoy the heeling sailboat literally taught me to let go of my need for control and enjoy life’s surprises and adventures.

I became hooked on writing in eighth grade, when I discovered the power of words in a poem written by e. e. cummings. I hope my word-crafted worlds of triumph and love entertain you. Feel free to email me at Kathleen@KathleenPickering.com and let me know.

Happy reading!

Kathleen Pickering

Where It Began
Kathleen Pickering

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Kathleen Pickering, the author with more than just a story to tell, believes stories teach life lessons. The second oldest of eight siblings, Kathleen draws characters from people around her, like her artist sister whose talent drives her into seclusion, or her newlywed son and daughter-in-law whose love is so fresh and genuine. Kathleen also travels to research her work. So beware. If she meets you, you may wind up inspiring one of her novels!

To you, reader, for celebrating my first Harlequin Superromance with me. Thank you!

Acknowledgments

First and foremost, I’d like to acknowledge my new editor, Wanda Ottewell, for having faith in my work and a sense of humor that rivals mine!

I’d like to thank friend and fellow author, Karen Kendall, for introducing me to Wanda at Florida Romance Writers Cruise with Your Muse Conference. (Long live balloon hats and Mexican cantinas!)

I have also been blessed with an amazing friend and mentor in Heather Graham, who has written for almost every Harlequin line, including launching the MIRA imprint. Heather also introduced me to my agent, Lucy Childs, with whom I am so thrilled to be associated.

I must add that my writing career began once I became a member of Florida Romance Writers in Fort Lauderdale, which is a chapter of Romance Writers of America. I am grateful for the company of fabulous authors whom I call friends, especially the M&M’s and the beautiful Traci Hall.

Thank you one and all for your kinship, your guidance and for loving the writing world as much as I do!

Contents

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER ONE

“I NEED ANSWERS,” Maria Santiago said, keeping her voice calm when she wanted to scream.

She inhaled a soothing breath, grateful for these tranquil moments during dinner hour with Poppa. She could count on him to anchor her in the world she remembered.

She selected a roll and passed the basket to her right, ignoring the pleasant warmth from Daniel Murphy Del Rio’s hands as he took it from her. She also ignored his gaze, which never failed to make her uncomfortable. He always seemed to be questioning her. Heaven knew, she had no idea why.

The evening’s shadows were growing along the beach, but her cherished ocean view from Reefside’s terrace did little to quell the tightness in her chest over this demand she was making. Until recently, she’d been content to hole up in her studio, or indulge in sunrise and sunset walks along the beach, but no longer. Her precious twin sister, whose memory she still grieved, had begun to haunt her dreams.

Dreams, no. Nightmares. Until the nightmares began, she’d held nothing but heartfelt, wonderful memories of Carmen. Now these gruesome nightmares of her sister began tormenting her waking hours.

Why now? Carmen had died a year ago.

Maria had done some investigating. The answers didn’t please her, but she no longer had a choice. Her father would indulge her demand. He had to.

If possible, she sat even straighter in the deep-cushioned bamboo chair and continued speaking, determined to have him agree before she lost her cool and started raising her voice.

“My doctor insists that a promising antidote for retrograde amnesia is to return to the place where it began. I would like to take the Honora back to the Abacos.”

She spared a glance at Del Rio and smirked at the alarm in his eyes before continuing. “However, Poppa, I wanted to be sure you still had confidence in your captain, since the Honora is collecting barnacles at the dock.”

Del Rio’s hand stopped in midair. He opened that captivating mouth of his to speak, then frowned, changing his mind. Maria didn’t miss the quelling look Poppa sent his way.

She’d learned from her father that Daniel Murphy Del Rio was talented and fearless at the helm. Yet, since she’d become aware of him, he hadn’t taken the Honora out at all. The few times she’d questioned Poppa, he’d waved away her concern. Anytime she asked Del Rio, he merely said that Elias—her father—had no desire to go anywhere. There was no denying she had hit a raw nerve with the ship captain. His focus straight ahead, he tore the roll into small pieces and chewed them one after the other, without taking the time to add butter, even though he had already placed some on his plate.

Good. Poppa had a bad habit of treating hired help like family. It was understandable with good employees like their butler Eduardo, who had been around for years, but Del Rio was way too new to Reefside for her father to give him such honors.

At least he was too new for Maria. Poppa said Del Rio was the son of his business partner, and now like a son to him, but Maria continued to relegate him to employee status. She simply could not remember him and didn’t like the way he did little other than reside at Reefside and shadow Poppa.

She also didn’t like the physical attraction she felt toward him. Something about him intimidated her. She’d mentioned this to Poppa and he’d quelled her concerns with amusement. She had to trust her father’s judgment, as she couldn’t trust her own since her memory loss. However, she could mentally shelve the man where he belonged: on the Honora.

Del Rio was not among the earlier memories that had returned after the accident. She’d remembered Poppa. Momma. Carmen. Eduardo, who ran the house. It boggled her mind that Poppa was so generous with Del Rio, including him in intimate conversations that should be restricted to family.

Now that their family had dwindled to just her and Poppa, she had no room for Del Rio. That was a fact. With his ultrahot body, wavy hair, deceptively charming Irish looks and easy smile, she found it even more important to ignore him. When she could not, she found fault. Sadly, she couldn’t imagine why. He had been nothing but kind to her.

Elias Santiago adjusted himself in his wheelchair, his dark gaze sliding from Del Rio to her. “Querida, I do not think this is such a good undertaking. You may look like an adventurous, gypsy princess in your beautiful dress, but now you sound like one. I do not want you wandering away from me.”

“You should have no worries, Poppa. My memory may be gone, but I still conduct myself well in public.”

What she couldn’t say was that she refused to go through another day of nightmares. Afraid to go to Carmen’s bedroom for fear that her twin would appear as she did in Maria’s sleep: angry. Distorted. Lunging for her with fangs and claws until the two of them hurtled over the balcony into a dark, foul-smelling abyss and Maria’s screams jolted her awake....

She was exhausted. She needed answers.

Calming her thoughts, she summoned all her willpower to keep a smooth, even tone when she spoke. She had to know why Carmen was haunting her.

“Besides, I’m not wandering, Poppa. I’m focused on a goal—going back to the scene of the accident. My memory is missing, but I hope that will change with this trip.”

Elias’s raven eyebrows slashed into a frown. Planting both hands on the table to emphasize his lack of mobility, he said, “But I am unable to accompany you.”

“Which is why I must go now, Poppa. I want to be well quickly, so that I can be here to help you.”

“I suggest you fly over.” Del Rio’s soothing voice invaded the conversation. “Take your doctor. You’ll be there in forty-five minutes and can hire a boat.”

She turned to meet his challenge. “What? You don’t want to work, Del Rio?”

His laugh sounded mirthless. “Not any longer, Princess.”

“Hijos, stop!” Poppa’s concern drew her attention from Del Rio’s challenging blue eyes.

“We are not your children, Poppa.”

“I think Elias means we are acting like children,” Del Rio answered.

Eduardo arrived with their main course. Maria waited for everyone to be served before lobbying for her cause once more.

“Please, Poppa. This sail is vital. I have asked you for nothing else these past months.”

Elias put down his fork. “And why not? Because you stay locked in your studio, day after day.”

She winced as the accusation hit home. She’d been afraid of the darkness that shrouded her thoughts since awakening in the hospital. Not knowing answers to questions or recognizing people she should know sent her scrambling for solitude. If she were alone, she couldn’t make any social blunders or look as foolish and frightened as she felt.

Also, the devastation of learning that Momma and Carmen had perished in the accident that robbed her memory had left a hole in her so deep she didn’t think she could ever climb out. She’d behaved cowardly, immersing herself in her misery, leaving Poppa to mourn alone.

She soon discovered her best escape was her art, which seemed to be selling faster than she could create it. But now, even that could not distract her. Matters had gotten out of hand. Reefside, a private estate in the heart of Fort Lauderdale’s metropolis, had become too quiet. In this beachside oasis her nightmares had become more frightening than ever. It was time to heal, especially with Poppa becoming weaker with diabetes. She had precious little time to waste, no matter how daunting this self-imposed task might seem. Poppa needed her. She was all he had left.

By some odd quirk of fate, she had decided that having Del Rio take her to the Abacos in the Bahamas on her father’s ship was the answer. The doctor said retracing the steps up to the accident could jar her memory. Yet, something about Del Rio chafed at her. No doubt it was his bond with Poppa. Why else would the darkness in her mind rise fast, practically buzzing through her head, whenever she was in Del Rio’s presence? She needed to conquer that silly sensation, as well.

Besides, Poppa said Del Rio was the finest sailor he’d ever known. Coming from Elias Santiago, that was high praise. Sailing on the Honora would get them to the Abacos fast enough while giving her time to adjust to the possibility of regaining her memory, of recovering all the details she suspected were so painful she’d blocked them. Here lay her dilemma. She wanted answers, but was unsure if she could handle them in one windfall. The Honora would carry her to her destination fast enough while giving her time to accept what she would learn. It was time to discover the facts behind her mother’s and sister’s deaths. It was time to embrace her life in its entirety and stop merely existing.

She raised her chin a notch higher. “I am out of my studio now, am I not?” She shook her head. “I have wasted too much time. I am ready to fight this black monster in my mind. Permit me use of the Honora, although God knows the thought of stepping on a ship again makes my knees quake.”

Elias frowned. “Then you must not go.”

“No, Poppa, you are wrong.” Her voice dropped in desperation. She fought to keep the tears and the tremor from her words. “I can no longer live not knowing. Nothing will stop me.”

Elias was a bear of a man whom few people crossed. His disease had ruined the joints in his ankles, yet his imposing frame continued to belie his useless legs. A silver mane of hair softened his dark, noble Latino looks. He wore his usual linen shirt and pants, white cotton socks to keep his swollen feet warm, even in the balmy, tropical evening. Elias still enjoyed good days, despite his wheelchair, but Maria had observed the signs of distress that seemed to occur more frequently. Besides her own overwhelming need to reclaim peace from these nightmares, she wanted to regain her memory so that she would be prepared for Poppa when he needed her. His blustering would do little to dissuade her.

Del Rio stood in the silence that had fallen, his plate untouched. He bowed slightly toward Maria, his spicy-warm, masculine scent filling her senses, before focusing his attention on Elias. “I cannot listen to this discussion. I seem to have lost my appetite. If you will excuse me.”

Maria looked straight ahead, refusing to watch the man’s exit. Del Rio might be thinking that his leaving could sway Poppa to deny her wishes, but she knew better. His absence would improve her chances to persuade her father of her plan. Elias added a splash of wine to his glass, which the doctor had forbidden.

She lifted her own glass. As he filled it, she offered Poppa an amused look. “Now that we are alone, I can explain myself more freely, Poppa. Here’s why I must leave as soon as possible…”

DANIEL STOOD IN THE TROPICAL morning sun, his world crashing around him like the surf hitting the beach stretching behind the villa.

He stared dumbfounded at Elias, this man who was like a second father to him while growing up, and now, since his parents’ death six years ago, his only father. Heat seared his back through his T-shirt as if exaggerating the hotbed from which neither he nor Elias had managed to extract themselves last night.

“Don’t ask me to do this, Elias. Not when you know I’ve decided to leave.”

Elias’s request—or should he say, demand—to take the reclusive Maria to the Bahamas was tantamount to emotional suicide for Daniel. He’d waited around patiently this past year out of sheer love, letting his career slide in an attempt to recapture something that he’d finally come to terms with as irretrievable.

No way would Daniel comply.

The set of the older man’s face made his intentions clear. This lion of industry might be restricted to a wheelchair, but confinement did little to curb his will. Elias Santiago hadn’t built his empire by backing down.

“I know you’ve made plans for Australia, Daniel. Please. Give me three more weeks.”

“No. I would have said so last night. You know it’s already been a year of hell.”

Daniel needed closure. He needed to get away. Staying dockside aboard the Honora with his life on hold had eaten away at him like rats gnawing dock lines. Aware that Maria’s studio balcony shadowed the patio behind them, he lowered his voice. “I have already waited too long. Maria doesn’t remember. I have no reason to stay.”

Seated at his table beneath an umbrella as he was every morning, cleanly shaved, wearing his crisp linen shirt and pants, his silver hair smoothed back and a pot of coffee steaming beside him, Elias spoke to Daniel as if he was holding a board meeting. The only difference was that his nurse, in her starched white uniform and sturdy shoes, sat beneath the shade of another umbrella, focused on a Heather Graham novel.

Unwavering, Elias held his gaze. “I think you are afraid.”

There was that, as much as it chafed him to admit it. Daniel had avoided sailing the Honora all these months for a reason. Self-doubt had stolen his confidence despite a notoriety for racing mile upon mile on the open ocean. He’d become so balled up after the accident that he hardly knew himself. He’d lost his love of the water and the love of his life with the simple turn of a boat’s wheel.

Since he had no control over his fate with the woman he loved, he’d decided to climb aboard another love and reclaim his power over the sea. Leaving for the Australian races had twin purposes. First, to get his sea legs acclimated once more, and second, to take him far, far away from Reefside and Maria.

Maria. She deserved the chance to reclaim her memory. This, he understood. But if he took her back to the islands, to the place where the boats crashed, and triggered her memory, would the most powerful love he’d ever experienced truly and finally end?

He ran a hand through his hair in exasperation. The old man wasn’t thinking straight. “I’ll be damned if I hurt her, Elias. Hire someone else if she’s so pigheaded about going.”

A knowing grin crossed the older man’s face. “Ah, love.”

“Don’t taunt me, old man.”

“You’ll sail, Daniel. Tomorrow. You don’t have to tell Maria anything. Actually, I would prefer if you did not. Let her find her way. You’ll grant an ailing man this one wish.”

“How can you ask me to do this?”

Elias waved a swarthy, veined hand. “I know you, Daniel. Don’t let the dead kill the love you had. Take this one last chance and do as Maria asks.”

“Did she ask for me to take her?”

A dusky voice answered from the balcony above. “Of course, I did. You should do something to earn the money my father has been wasting on your salary.”

Daniel’s back tightened at her insult. Refusing to respond, he held Elias’s gaze as if to say, See? It won’t work.

He’d never adjusted to Maria’s critical, or worse, ambivalent, comments since the accident. In the beginning, Elias and the doctors wanted to give her time to heal from her trauma and instructed Daniel to remain silent about their relationship. His heart had ripped a bit more each day that Maria remembered nothing about him—about them—since the collision.

As the year wore on, he had lost hope of regaining her love, and she had become less and less tolerant of his relationship with Elias. It wasn’t until a few short weeks ago that he became truly honest with himself. His desire to win her back had died. Her ambivalence was the gun that had killed it. She’d pulled the trigger too many times.

Maria had made it clear that she didn’t believe her father should be so generous with the hired help. Ironically, it seemed Elias was depending on the “hired help” to take this last step to let his precious daughter regain her memory. Daniel had become a pawn in a chess match he was certain to lose.

Elias chuckled. “Late though she may be to our discussion, she has a point.”

Daniel looked at Maria standing above him in the yellow, paint-stained sundress she wore when working: her black hair caught at her nape, her dark bedroom eyes assessing him as a mere mortal. The muscles in his neck tightened under her gaze as he realized this exotic, exciting woman no longer did so much as bat an eyelash in his direction. He could not stay another day—heck, another minute—being so close, yet oceans away from her.

Daniel threw up his hands. “You both have lost your minds.”

“Captain.” She captured his attention with that one word. She leaned over the balcony, unaware of the enticing view of her neckline she offered. “I will, indeed, lose my mind if I don’t restore my memory once and for all.”

The laserlike intensity in her eyes reflected the torment haunting her. Darkness, she called it, from loss of memory. Daniel knew it encompassed more: the loss of a cherished twin, a mother, a life of possibilities with him of which she remained totally unaware.

He wanted to pull her into his arms and promise her he could take away the pain, if not for her sake, then for his own. She wouldn’t be in this state if it wasn’t for him. But when she finally did learn the truth, she would never want to see him again, anyway. So why honor her request?

Perhaps he should agree to this suicide mission because he could finally end this fiasco. He’d already made other plans because he couldn’t handle another day spent smoldering with the memory of her touch, her taste, her love, all the while pretending he’d never known her.

Maybe that had been his mistake from the start.

“So, you think your doctor’s suggestion will jar your memory?” His question was laced with sarcasm.

She pulled a thin, ash-wood paintbrush from her haphazard bun of ebony hair. The motion ignited a powerful urge to run his hands through the heavy satin strands falling down her back. She pointed the tip of the brush at him, her dark eyes intent on her decision.

“Quite honestly, Captain, I could care less about your opinion. I’d like to leave tomorrow. I have already begun packing.”

Daniel shrugged. “You must not have heard that my employment with your father has ended. You’ll have to find another captain.”

“Daniel.”

Elias’s objection vibrated right through him. Daniel closed his eyes for one blessed moment to enjoy the strength of his declaration, because his cause had been lost the moment he heard the desperation in Maria’s haughty words.

Damn it all. They had shared the kind of love a person didn’t find often. He really should try one last time to win her back, and yet, if there was no reaching her, he also wanted freedom from the memories. When Carmen died in the accident, it was as if her mean spirit had inhabited his sweet, affectionate Maria, erasing any trace of the woman he had loved more than life.

“Daniel, my son.” Elias’s voice dropped to a whisper. “In this terrible accident I have lost a wife and a daughter. Will you not honor me by taking this last chance?”

Daniel’s blood grew hot. “You mean as penance for not stopping the thunder boat from ramming the skiff in the first place?”

Elias glanced toward the balcony, determined that Maria not hear their words. “I mean no such thing.”

“Then why do you insist that I take her?”

The older man’s gaze softened. He reached out a hand, letting it settle, palm down, on the glass table. “You think I do not know how you suffer, as well?”

“It’s in the past.”

“Nonsense. You breathe every moment of that accident, every day. I see it in your face when you think no one is watching.”

Like a falling ax, the truth cleaved his emotions. He had decided to leave because he could not—no, would not—suffer this constant turmoil any longer. Either Maria loved him, or she did not. As of today, she did not. A year was a long time to torture a man.

“Then let the past die, Elias.” Daniel ground out his quiet words. “I will return in six months to check on you both.”

Elias pounded the table with his hand. “You do not run out on family.”

He knew, without looking, that Maria had descended the balcony stairs to the patio. He heard the silent padding of her bare feet, felt her body heat. He crossed his arms, watching Elias’s gaze warm as she approached. He didn’t have to see to know she moved like a siren walking on air.

“So, querida, you join us for breakfast?”

She passed Daniel to kiss her father’s cheek. “I couldn’t work with you two arguing. I want to join this conversation.”

Daniel’s senses swelled with the citrusy scent clinging to her skin. The stains on her sundress reflected bright oil paint from canvases already finished and sold. The thin straps of the dress threatened to slide off her tanned shoulders, and his hand itched to push them farther down that soft skin with a finger.

He swallowed hard when she turned, her dark eyes grazing him with that curious but unfamiliar gaze that tore at his heart. Right now, losing her seemed like a life sentence. She and her stubborn father, more precious to him than anything in the world, were asking him to do something that would destroy everything he’d spent the past year trying to preserve.

He might be planning to move on with his life, but Elias and Maria Santiago were family. Nothing tied Daniel to the land like Reefside, the only home he now knew, and its inhabitants.

Before the disaster, Daniel and Maria had built dreams for their future. She would create canvases of international renown, while he raced closer to world cup status. When he had asked her to marry him, she had said yes, and compounded her acceptance with the sweetness of her body. That memory alone practically drove him to madness.

They had decided to make a home at Reefside, with Elias. Maria’s father had shared their dreams. Blessed them. Then, their world shattered on one gorgeous, sun-filled afternoon, the aftermath of which still lingered today.

Since the accident, Daniel could not bring himself to sail. Meanwhile, Maria’s career flourished, while she remained blissfully unaware that Daniel languished.

Daniel had doggedly followed every rule Elias and the doctors had set for helping Maria regain her memory. They had wanted him to go slowly—not upset her by trying to make her remember they were lovers. If she could not recall her previous life, anxiety might drive her deeper into herself. But their rules had fallen short. In a year, Maria had not remembered him. At all.

Now, with Elias’s demand that he take her back to the Abacos, Daniel was terrified of what might happen if she did remember—out there. In Little Harbour. Not in the safety of her home.

If he were to agree to this mission, it would be out of kindness. He’d already told himself the two of them were finished. He’d welcome time alone with Maria. Taking her away was the right choice, but not to the Abacos. His throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. He shot Maria an impatient look that would have sent a lesser woman fleeing.

If Maria sensed his distress, she ignored it.

“Poppa offers you respect as a family member. Yet, you treat his gesture lightly.” She laid a hand on her father’s shoulder. “I told you, Poppa. He’s playing you for a fool.”

The only fool here is me, Daniel thought, for wasting an entire year trying to reach her. This was one insult he would not ignore. “You have no idea how wrong you are, Princess.”

Her dark eyes snapped to attention. Her full lips compressed into a hard line. “How could I possibly know anything other than what I hear? And do not call me Princess.”

Damn if his jaw didn’t tighten so hard his back teeth hurt. He thumbed in the direction of the yacht docked on the Intracoastal side of the estate and asked her a question he didn’t need answered, if only to reclaim some control over this situation. “Well then, tell me this…Maria. Do you even like to sail?”

He immediately regretted the confusion that clouded her eyes. She visibly struggled with his question until her resolve steeled. “There is only one way to know, Captain. Poppa says you are the best of the best, yet you’ve stayed landside for months. Would you dare take the Honora off shore to find your answer?”

Oh, he wanted the chance to find out, all right. A chance to woo her. Seduce her. Win her back. But on the Honora…where it all began? No way could she be aware of this one dangerous fact.

In his role as captain of the sloop he loved, he would be creating a facade that didn’t exist on the last journey, almost a year ago to the date. As far as Maria knew, Daniel was hired help. Anonymous. Indifferent. Yet how long could he remain that way? Despite its fifty-foot waterline, the Honora would be tight quarters for the chemistry they still seemed to share.

Deep inside, he longed to be alone with her. To calm her, explain things to her. He believed she felt their bond, even though she ignored him. Dare he test her limits at sea? Away from Elias? Away from empty rooms that were once her mother’s and her sister’s? Should he try, one more time, to see if their love was strong enough to overcome the trauma of retrograde amnesia?

The chance to win her back, as a stranger, was cowardly, no matter how appealing. He’d be better off pursuing his new plans, away from Maria, especially with her in such a volatile, emotional state of mind.

She was out of reach now, but if she remembered the accident without the right people around her to help her understand? Then, for sure, she would be lost to him. He’d be better off leaving for Australia and starting a new life. If, in time, her memory returned and she was willing to forgive him, they could at least remain friends.

Sailing away with her tomorrow would simply make a bad situation intolerable. He should move on. After all, had she died in the accident, like the others, he would have had to start over. Her love would have remained an ache deep in his being—one he’d learn to live with. There wouldn’t be much difference between that sad acceptance and the way he felt now at the lack of recognition that pooled in her eyes when she gazed at him.

Damn it all. While his heart tugged at him to take her away and make one last try, his mind demanded he run as fast as he could.

Elias watched him with hawklike calm. Daniel might fool Maria, but the older man knew. He recognized the depth of Daniel’s love for his daughter. Elias had urged Daniel to overcome his fear of his own abilities to command a vessel.

Daniel met his gaze, silently pleading that this interview end. He needed to commit to the races in Australia. Winning was critical to cement himself in the sailing arena. The sponsorship calls and advertising contracts wouldn’t be coming in forever. He only had a small window of time here to get back on track. Daniel had spent too many months wrestling with the guilt that had tied him to Reefside, day in and day out, and the need to ensure Elias and Maria fared well.

A sigh escaped his lips. Why the hell was he arguing with himself, anyway? Elias’s look said it all. Daniel had no choice but to right the wrong that had begun with him. It was his fate to be ground zero when Maria exploded back to life. It just had never occurred to him, or Elias, that she would request to sail back to the place where it all began.

Daniel needed time to think.

“I have errands to do. I’ll answer you in an hour.”

He didn’t even look back when Elias called out, “Be sure there is storage on the Honora for Maria’s canvases.”

CHAPTER TWO

AGAINST HER DECISION not to heed Del Rio at all, Maria watched his angry stride, infuriated at his rudeness. He had her full attention as he headed into the tropical overhang leading around the villa. His unwillingness to help confounded her. After refusing his attempts at conversation with her all these months, she finally needed him and he was dodging her.

It made no sense.

She’d avoided him most of this past year because a wave of anxiety would hit whenever he came around, rattling her right down to the bone. Then, his soothing, deep voice with its touch of laughter would lull and excite her at the same time. His concerned glances, as if he expected her to ask him a question at any moment, had left her feeling inadequate and foolish.

Recently, however, she’d felt differently. It occurred to her that her subconscious was prodding her. Perhaps Del Rio knew the answers to her questions. Instinct said that he was her ticket to regaining her memory, and every ounce of her being knew this to be true. If only she could calm down enough around him to stop being such a shrew, he might be inclined to help her.

The clang of iron from the side gate heralded his exit. She dropped into the seat across from Elias, aware her father watched her. Perhaps he was reassessing the wisdom of letting her leave. It didn’t matter. She had to make this voyage. Nothing was going to stop her from retracing that trip to Little Harbour—unless Poppa was ill.

“You’re angry with me,” she said.

Elias shook his head, his rheumy brown gaze filled with intention. “No, mi querida. It hurts me to see what is left of our beautiful family quarreling.”

“Del Rio is not family. He acts as if you and I belong hidden away like a couple of loony tunes in an asylum.”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “You simply do not remember, Maria.”

Her breath caught in her throat. Yes. Poppa was right. While a niggling thought teased that she knew Del Rio, he remained an enigma. That his family had been tied to hers for so many years made her wonder why she could remember nothing of this South American.

Yet, something about him disquieted her. Poppa had said Del Rio’s mother was beautiful, his father a lifelong business partner. Elias had laughed, insisting that Del Rio had inherited his Irish father’s renegade looks, while his blue eyes reflected the deep current of his mother’s Chilean soul. Del Rio must have held a strong affection for his mother and her Chilean roots, because he used her last name more often than his surname. The man certainly showed a respect for family that Poppa more than once had openly admired.

Her father could keep his poetic musings to himself.

“I am so tired of not remembering, Poppa.” Her tremulous words surprised her.

Elias turned his wheelchair to face her. With a slow shake of his head he said, “My beautiful Maria. You have been lost in your hideaway upstairs for too long. I am glad you have found strength to seek the answers you want. If it was in my power to accompany you, I would.”

Her chest tightened with love for her father. She stood. “Thank you, Poppa. You know I hate to leave you. I will be back as soon as possible.”

Yes, Del Rio could go to the devil if he did not agree to take her to Little Harbour. It was as simple as that. She pressed her cheek to her father’s, relishing the warmth, inhaling the familiar, soapy smell of his shaving lotion. Familiar scents had been triggers for her memory, and Poppa’s was one of the first to bring her around. “I love you, Poppa. I trust you will ensure your captain cooperates.”

He patted her back. “Have Enrique bring your things to the Honora.”

Ascending her steps to the studio, Maria pushed thoughts of Del Rio away. A commissioned piece needed to be completed before morning. The easel holding a painting half her size stood by the open French doors to capture as much tropical light as possible.

She reclaimed her seat on the wooden stool splattered with various colors of dried paint. Her gaze rested on her current work, which a socialite from her mother’s International Women’s group had asked her to paint. The woman wanted the view from her Islamorada home to be painted like a dream.

Maria usually created only what arose in her imagination, but since this woman had been a friend of Momma’s and offered to pay an outrageous price, Maria had accepted. She had laughed out loud when she saw the photo from which she would work. Living in the Florida Keys was like living a dream. Lately, daydreams came easily to Maria. Anything that promised escape—the slow burst of sunrise, birds flying over the sea, this photo of the view of Florida Bay from her client’s window, all set her paintbrushes in motion. She’d created a technique of blending colors and images that left the viewer mesmerized and contemplative, just as the perfect dream might do. This commission had been simple to create.

Maria still couldn’t believe that complete strangers sought out and paid huge sums for these canvases splayed with the surreal joys, sorrows and regrets of her soul that words could not describe. Heaven knew, even her nightmares made excellent subjects and sold fastest.

She marveled at the encouragement she received from art critics for indulging this exquisite escape from reality. Yet now, only reality stared back from the canvas in the form of Del Rio’s face. He had mocked her when he asked her if she even liked to sail. He knew the answer. She didn’t. And her inability to remember shook her to the core.

It was like being surrounded in complete gloom with no walls, no floor, no sound. No matter how much she reached out, how often she felt for footing, how hard she listened, nothing came. Only darkness. A darkness that spawned nightmares.

She had no memory of the accident; Poppa had told her about it. The only proof was the concussion, cuts and bruises she had sustained. Awakening in a hospital bed and not even knowing her own name had been terrifying. Elias was the one who’d rekindled her memory. By holding her hand and singing songs from her childhood, he had reached her.

Del Rio had been with Elias at the hospital. He had stood behind Poppa to support him. The two men had a bond. She remembered this fact. She also remembered her stunning twin, and their dark, elegant Latina mother, Rosalinda. When Maria and Carmen were young, their mother used to tease that no one could tell the twins apart. Maria remembered Elias saying he would always know the difference.

But what of Del Rio? He remained in her mind like Elias’s shadow. Her father would have to reeducate her about his family, his past. Elias had said Del Rio was like a son to him, but Maria couldn’t even bring herself to speak his first name.

Why?

The man was easy on the eyes. In fact, he was downright handsome. She didn’t like the pull her body felt toward him when he was around. Somehow she’d managed to ignore him. If she kept treating him as an employee, she didn’t have to consider the possibility that he might be more to her family. Because if he was simply the Honora’s alluring captain, then Elias indulged him far more than necessary. And why would this distress her?

Shame tugged at her heart. She knew why, and was loath to admit it. Jealousy. As children, Carmen had been Poppa’s favorite. Maria never quite minded because Carmen was irresistible, always quick to laugh and get into mischief. Maria had always been the “quiet” one of the two, so she was used to handing over the spotlight to her twin. Elias had indulged Carmen and Rosalinda equally because their personalities were so similar.

People used to joke that Carmen and Momma should have been the twins, not Maria and Carmen. The two were inseparable. Maria had felt like a spectator at their party, but she hadn’t minded. Someone had to provide an audience for their antics.

Now, with Carmen gone, Del Rio had taken over that coveted spot in Elias’s attention. If she were totally honest, Maria had been jealous of the love Elias poured on Carmen and their mother. He was always less enthusiastic—perhaps she’d call it softer—toward her. Did a vile part of her now hope that as the remaining child she would take first place in Poppa’s eyes? Did she resent that Del Rio had filled that void instead of her?

Hurt squeezed her heart. Was she that shallow? She released the breath she’d been holding. No. Not shallow. Needy. Her amnesia had driven her into isolation. She felt so very alone in her darkness and had become a recluse. Painting day in and day out. Sometimes sleeping in her clothes.

She’d turned away lunch dates, since most of her friends were Carmen’s and spoke only of her, deepening Maria’s loss. She stopped attending gallery showings. Refused interviews. Her world had narrowed down to Reefside. This art studio. The silly monkeys in the banyans outside her front window. And Poppa.

With diabetes weakening her father each day, she worried that she’d made a hasty decision to leave him. Yet Poppa’s longtime family physician said now was the perfect time to go.

She had to stop second-guessing her decision. It stressed her too much. Inhaling a deep, cleansing breath, she turned her focus on the canvas. By the time she lifted her brush, Poppa, the heart-stopping Daniel Murphy Del Rio and the world outside her balcony had vanished.

SHADOWS FELL ON THE PATIO as the sun climbed into the late-afternoon sky. Daniel took the last step up to Maria’s balcony, enchanted, as always, by the Bohemian feel of her studio.

A chaise lounge scattered with turquoise pillows faced the ocean. Terra-cotta pots overflowing with flowers lined the marble balustrade. Sheer curtains inside the open doors fluttered easily in the onshore breeze, beckoning him to enter.

His eyes rested on the lounge chair and his heart started knocking around his chest. Once upon a time, he and Maria had made good use of that chair on many a summer night. The last time, she had agreed to marry him. It had been a year since he’d been up here. He steeled himself as he stepped across the balcony. Once Maria realized he was present, she would ignore him and it was going to do damage to his already tormented heart.

That’s how it was between them now. That’s why he should be hightailing it to Brisbane.

She sat just inside the doors, her back to him. The clear acrylic palette splashed with colors lay nestled in the crook of her tanned arm as she leaned toward her work. She’d twisted her hair into a knot again, catching it with an extra paintbrush.

The brush in her left hand flitted across the canvas like a lively bird. Her sundress hugged the slender curves of her body—a body now off-limits to him. The soft cotton falling in waves against the chair gave way to a smooth length of shapely leg and bare feet entwined at the ankle. Damn. She even had white paint smeared across the top of her foot.

The scent of linseed oil and paint mingled with the sea air. The subtle incense of her perfume wafted across his senses like needed oxygen. This…this was the Maria he loved. This was the woman who had stolen his heart; not the frightened, angry woman who now inhabited her skin.

He watched a moment longer, unable to resist. Her artwork, vibrant and warm like her voice when she spoke to anyone other than him, lit the canvas like seductive fingers reaching to touch his aching heart. He lounged casually against the doorjamb if only to counteract every straining nerve in his body. Without a doubt, her eyes would flash with annoyance when she finally acknowledged his presence.

He wouldn’t even flinch.

He resisted the urge to laugh out loud at the irony. Maria could not even remember why she avoided him. Nor did she remember she once loved him like a woman on fire.

Damn himself for agreeing. He’d decided to give Elias—and Maria—only three weeks. Would he be able to spend that much time alone with her without shooting off his mouth about what they had meant to each other and ruining everything?

He cleared his throat. “Maria.”

Her paintbrush stopped moving, but she didn’t turn her head. “I’m busy.”

He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans rather than reach for her and demand she look at him.

“We have to talk.”

She slapped the brush down, her concentration lost. “I think not, unless you have a question about tomorrow’s sail.”

Daniel waited until she turned to look at him, the defensiveness in her glance nerve-racking.

“My only question is whether you’re sure this trip is something you want to do.”

She opened her mouth to speak then hesitated. “Dr. Hernandez assures me Poppa is strong. Now is the best time to go.”

“There’s that, of course. I was thinking more along the lines of what you are looking for.”

She tilted her head as if gauging his question. “Like will I fall apart if I don’t remember anything?”

“Or more like, will you be able to hold it together if you do remember?”

With an impatient flick of her wrist, she dabbed the brush in a jar of linseed oil before wiping it with a square of white towel streaked with colors.

“Oh, please. I think you are sidestepping the real question.”

“Which is?”

She appraised him over her shoulder. “Are you reliable enough to take me across the Gulf Stream?”

Oh. Low blow, Maria. A comment like that makes me wonder why I’m even bothering. My Maria was more careful with her words.

Daniel inhaled a huge breath, his mind racing with retorts, but he held them back. He wouldn’t let her get under his skin so fast, especially with that satisfied smirk on her gorgeous lips. “What, exactly, do you mean, Maria?”

Maria shrugged one shoulder, the gesture sexy as hell. “Poppa said you’re a world-class sailor. Seems more to me like you’ve been hiding on his yacht.”

Low blow number two. He stepped across the threshold, planting his feet firmly on the wide-planked flooring. His throat tightened with the urge to shout, we never spoke like this to each other before Carmen came between us, but instead, he shot a volley back, aiming straight for her heart.

He gestured to the room. “I could say the same for you in your studio, my dear. When was the last time you left Reefside?”

She swung on him. “Well, at least I’m taking my future into my hands. I’m willing to change my situation.”

He leaned toward her. “I had made plans, my dear. I’m supposed to leave for Australia this weekend.”

She pointed a finger, color rising in her cheeks. “You owe me this trip.”

If she’d slapped him, she’d have elicited the same response. Suspicion furrowed his brow. He resisted pressing a hand to relieve the pressure. Had Elias betrayed his secret? He cleared his throat before he dared ask, “And just how is it that I owe you, Princess?”

She unhinged the painting from the easel, carrying it to the drying wall, then turned to face him.

“You’ve been lounging around Reefside on my father’s dime for way too long. You owe it to him to postpone your plans and earn the salary you’ve collected by taking me.”

Relief was so immediate, he almost laughed. He’d come up to tell her he’d agreed to take her, but seeing her at work had, once again, thrown him off balance. And here she thought his reluctance was about money. If she only knew.

Damn.

He tried to stare her down, but she wouldn’t look away. He held up a hand in surrender. “Okay. Elias asked for three weeks. That’s all you get. I’ll leave for Australia when we return.”

Did she flinch at the mention of his departure? Now, wouldn’t that be something?

He took another step into the room. “Do you understand me, Princess?”

She retraced her steps to stand before him, hands on hips. He almost grinned at that stubborn, familiar I’ll-argue-till-you-kiss-me-into-submission look. Oh, yeah, Princess, give me a reason to reach for you. He was nuts to think he’d make this trip unscathed.

Her pointed finger came within inches of his chest. He wondered if she dared not touch him for fear of where it would lead. Her nostrils flared in that ever-so-enticing way. “Never call me Princess, Del Rio. Just get me to Little Harbour as fast as you can.”

DANIEL STOWED THE LAST of Maria’s gear and climbed into the cockpit, wanting badly to break something. Elias’s words, You don’t run out on family, prodded him like a pitchfork. Family. What remained of his family was here at Reefside. Yet living with Maria’s emotional absence and physical presence made this last task seem futile.

Even worse were the last words she’d fired at him before the accident. Despite the exquisite love that bonded them, she had chosen to mistrust him. The look in her eyes when her accusations flew had branded his soul forever. He had been so busy these past months, working with Elias to restore Maria’s memory, that he hadn’t taken the time to sift through his own emotions from that fateful day.

Now they whipped around his head like a hurricane. If he was successful in helping Maria restore her memory, and if all became resolved between them, could he be safe in her love, knowing she’d turned from him once before?

Grabbing a polishing cloth, he settled for wiping down the pristine instrument panel at the helm one more time. If they weren’t scheduled to set sail in minutes, he’d guzzle a beer. Hell, he might anyway. His mouth was drier than the Tortugas.

Yanking open the door of the cockpit refrigerator, he pulled out a bottle of water. He swigged a huge gulp, glaring down the waterway leading to the ocean but seeing nothing.

A haze of guilt clouded his vision.

How could Elias expect him—trust him for God’s sake—to take Maria back to where all the trouble began? He and the old man knew the story. They had a deal. Now Elias had imposed his will, knowing Daniel could not refuse Maria. Elias was breaking the promise he’d made like some deity tossing a mere mortal from the clouds. And Daniel had agreed. He would do it as a favor…but for whom? Did he still harbor the hope of winning her back?

He slapped his forehead. What the devil was wrong with him? He was about to spend one long, sweet sail alone with her. Like a maiden voyage for both of them. A lot of ground could be covered in twenty-one days. This could be the opportunity he’d been waiting for. Seducing Maria could be a goddamn dream come true, if he could allow himself to trust her love once more. Quite an irony, since he’d spent a year ignoring the possibility that he might not want her love anymore. Up to this point, all he wanted was to have her wake up and remember him. Now he wondered what good it would do if she did.

The Honora would be a hotbed of emotions for him no matter what happened. If Maria were to fall in love with him once more, even without regaining her memory, he could seize the opportunity to teach her what they’d once shared. Best-case scenario was that she would remember the accident and still find her way to understand the truth—what really happened before the collision—and forgive Daniel. Then, their love might grow roots so deep, no one would ever be able to shake them apart.

But before he could claim her love again two things were needed: honesty and redemption. There had been no sign of either, but that could also have been because the opportunity had not arisen. Well, here he was, ready and waiting. The only woman who could bring about either possibility was Maria, and she didn’t have a clue.

He had been shocked when his hands shook as he started the engine. Acknowledging the tension he felt leaving the dock was hard. No matter what the courts had said. No matter what he knew had happened on that boat, he had been responsible for the accident. He was a licensed captain. His lack of control had caused the death of two women.

Granted, he knew the mechanics of operating a vessel. He understood the wind, the tides, could read the skies, understood navigation laws, but witnessing those broken bodies and the destruction of lives after the fact had crippled Daniel’s faith in his abilities.

Who was he kidding? He needed healing as much as Maria. That one truth he would give to Elias. The older man, better than anyone, understood why Daniel had remained marooned at Reefside while Maria continued to dodge him. Sometimes he wondered if what was precious between them had been destroyed when she doubted his love at the worst possible moment before the collision.

No matter. What was done was done. Her world had been stripped bare. He had lost confidence, and her love. What a joke. Now he had to overcome his own fears in order to sail to the place where their lives had been ruined.

He hung his head, briefly closing his eyes. Sometimes, it was best leaving the dead buried. Maybe Maria was better off starting over without him; he should jump off the Honora and head to Australia before it was too late. After all, if one stepped beyond the point of no return, well, there simply was no return.

Did he care?

Hell yes.

Because Maria couldn’t remember. It wasn’t fair that he held all the cards, because he did remember.

A groan escaped his lips. Like it or not, he’d accepted a lose-lose situation. Screwed if she remembered. Screwed if she didn’t. When all this was over, he’d head to those Brisbane races either a man redeemed, or a man doomed.

Well, his world had been ripped from him once before when his parents were killed in Chile. He understood how to live with loss. Maybe sacrificing his future with Maria was the price he’d pay for absolution.

So be it.

A motion on the green caught his eye. Maria stormed down the lawn toward the dock, her hair bouncing like a veil of midnight silk on her shoulders. Her dark, exotic eyes smoldered with a distress he could feel from where he stood, and she hadn’t even spotted him yet.

“Shit. Here we go.”

Her steps slowed to a cautious tread as she approached the wharf. She still hadn’t noticed Daniel. Panic tightened her features as she stared at the dock.

She stopped as if an invisible wall blocked her passage. Her chest heaved in quick breaths, tightening the thin, crimson fabric of her halter top.

Daniel’s gaze caressed her face then traveled slowly down her body, over the rise of her breasts, down to her waist, where an inch of tanned, flat stomach peeked out from the waistband of chino shorts. They stopped midthigh, exposing the long, tanned length of those unending legs that once knew the touch of his hand. Daniel stifled another groan as she jammed her paint-stained fists into her pockets and looked up, her eyes begging for help.

Her fear wrenched his heart. Damn his doubts. He bolted for the dock, and offered her a hand, a peace offering in more ways than one.

“Here, let me help you.”

Like a finger snap, her panic disappeared. Maria raked him with her gaze, glanced at his hand and ignored it.

“Did you stow my art supplies?”

Daniel rolled his eyes, flattening his palm against his board shorts. “You bet, Princess. Your twenty tons of paints, brushes and canvases. I’m glad you thought to pack at least one bikini.”

He headed back to the Honora. Over his shoulder he said, “Casting off in ten seconds, sweetheart.”

MARIA STARED AT DEL RIO as if he spoke a foreign language. This trip had been her idea. Why was she so terrified? She couldn’t move. Every muscle gripped her bones like a vise, refusing to yield. The sun burned hot on her head and shoulders. The monkeys laughing in the banyans around her studio called as if begging her to stay. The soft scent of grass blended with the brine of the Intracoastal as land feuded with water in her mind. Just watching the yacht sway at the dock made her stomach heave.

Her blood grew cold as the familiar rumble from the center of the sloop rose on the air. Oh, God. Del Rio already had the engine running. The acrid smell of exhaust churned her anxiety. She swallowed the lump in her throat as she watched him, one hundred percent pure, bona fide male, standing at the helm.

His colorful board shorts and a small rip in the shoulder of his sun-faded blue T-shirt made him look more like a surfer than the captain of the Honora as he checked the instruments. Poppa had reminded her that Daniel had sailed his entire life. Won awards for racing some of the most sophisticated sailboats. Oh, he could handle a helm all right. Those tanned hands looked more than capable. She just didn’t like what the sight of those strong, slender fingers did to her belly.

Damn. This was not about Del Rio. Boarding this ship was about Carmen and Momma. Enough.

With not even a glance in her direction, Del Rio jumped onto the dock and began untying the bowline. Next, he’d work his way to the spring line, the stern line, and then he’d cast off.

“Hold on, Captain. Give me a minute.”

Her palms itched. Perspiration drenched her, pissing her off royally. She didn’t expect this reaction and needed a moment to collect herself.

He faced her, arms open. “I have to be in Australia in three weeks. Let’s shove off.”

Inhaling a searing breath of earth and sea, Maria bolted forward. She didn’t stop to think until she was locked in her cabin, poised over the toilet, throwing up what little toast and tea she’d managed to eat at lunch.

The engine accelerated. They’d left the dock. The forward motion of the ship had her heaving again. She flushed the toilet and sat on the floor, her cheek pressed against the closed lid. Becoming panicked and ill had not been part of her plan.

She moaned as a thought occurred: maybe she hated sailing and Del Rio knew it. Maybe that was what he’d tried to tell her last night.

She slammed open the toilet lid and heaved once more.

DANIEL STRAINED TO HEAR any sound from below. He’d given Maria the bow cabin, which left him hard-pressed to hear anything, even through the open hatch topside. He hoped the snug but luxurious quarters would give her a sense of security since he felt her terror right down to his bones. Until she overcame that fear, they’d get nowhere. The familiar feel of the wheel beneath his hand sent a surge of pleasure through him. He’d be careful this time. He’d do everything by the book. Yet, no matter how sleek and fast the Honora, and how comfortable the wheel felt in his hands once more, the passage to the Bahamas would seem endless.

For both of them.

As the Honora glided down the waterway, Daniel glanced back at Reefside. Elias’s shock of silver hair revealed his presence on the rooftop terrace. Of course, the old man chose to witness the beginning of the end. Daniel should have known better. Loyalty to family ruled a Latin heart. Maria had to regain her memory before any of them could move forward.

Damn the bastard for knowing exactly what needed to be done.

CHAPTER THREE

THE RATTLING OF ANCHOR CHAIN woke Maria. She’d managed to move from the toilet to her bunk, more a bed in the center of the forward, V-shaped cabin, and fallen into a brief, dead sleep. She barely remembered flopping onto the bed. Somewhere in her haze she’d heard the three horn blasts signaling the bridge opening. But to drop anchor now meant they hadn’t entered open water. What was Del Rio thinking?

She rolled off the bed, her knees like rubber. She’d never been seasick in her life—that she could remember. And they hadn’t even left the Intracoastal.

Water. She needed water.

A bottle of mouthwash perched on the sink in the head. She rinsed her parched mouth, spitting out the burning liquid.

Her reflection in the mirror said she already looked like the dead. As she splashed water on her face, the gentle hum of the engine ceased. She stopped, listening. Why were they stopping? Maybe Del Rio had a change of heart. That had to be the answer. Not good. She might be sick, but she was determined to see this journey through. She opened the medicine cabinet, grateful to find the roll of antacids. Chewing two, she headed for the deck.

The warm, salt air caressed her face, a welcome change from the air-conditioning below. Del Rio had his back to her, snapping off the cap from a Modelo Especial. He tipped the beer to his lips and didn’t even turn to greet her.

“Why have you stopped?”

The Hillsboro Inlet Bridge lay off the stern, the inlet a football field’s distance off the bow. The ocean blanketed the horizon in turquoise luminescence beneath the setting sun. She looked back at Del Rio, his profile to her now as he gazed across the small harbor.

He took another swig. “I thought you might want a second chance to jump ship.”

Her enthusiasm for getting out to sea overrode her disquiet at his arrogance. A glistening bottle of water stood in the beverage holder. Whether for her or not, she twisted off the cap and downed half the bottle before speaking.

“I’d like to get under way, if you have no objection.”

The beer bottle stopped halfway to his lips. “Oh, I have an objection.”

The heat of his gaze made her pulse leap. “Why are you drinking beer when we should be sailing?”

He moved around the deck table, his intentions like a heat wave. He stood close to her, a boa constrictor measuring its prey. His skin smelled of suntan lotion, his breath a sweet mixture of barley and hops. She refused to budge, though she ached to slap his concerned, irresistible face. Instead, she drank from the water bottle.

His gaze moved to her throat as she swallowed.

“We can’t sail into West End in the dark. The reefs are too dangerous.”

She didn’t expect this answer. “For goodness’ sake, then why did we leave so soon?”

Del Rio started to say something, but the words caught in his throat. He swallowed hard then managed to smile. “I thought it was a good idea for you to adjust your sea legs before we got too far.”

Something told her that was not what he wanted to say, but given her queasy stomach, he might have a point. “You’re worried for my welfare?”

He held her gaze a moment too long before a sheepish grin broke. “Nah. I just don’t want you puking on my teak.”

Under other circumstances, she might have laughed, but right now she suspected he meant it. She placed the bottle back into the holder.

“So, now we just wait?”

Daniel nodded. “It’s only a couple of hours. How about we put together some nachos, enjoy the breeze and chat?”

Suddenly, going below with Del Rio at her heels was the last thing she wanted, especially with nothing to do for hours. Why hadn’t she taken the time to reason what it would be like to be alone with him on the Honora? Lord. It felt way more intimate that she had expected. She had been so focused on making her plans happen, that she hadn’t given any thought to the notion of them being isolated together. And damn if close proximity to this man didn’t set her nerve endings tingling. Now turning back was too late.

Months ago, she’d refused to feel attracted to this man, who only seemed concerned with playing shadow to Poppa while leaving her to find her own way back to sanity. Yesterday, she’d told herself that if he truly cared about her, he would have jumped at the chance to help her recover her memory. But no. Clearly, he was too self-serving, which made his physical appeal totally unfair.

She pushed past him, planting herself on a cockpit cushion, her fingers curling around the lifeline for more reasons than the ship’s sway. She closed her eyes, her stomach starting to roil with the rocking.

“I’d prefer to stay in the cockpit. I need air.”

He returned to the helm, sitting on the cushion inches away from her, and took another sip of Modelo. Silent, concerned, he glanced at her as if he sensed her disquiet. She didn’t want his understanding right now; just his compliance. She had a task to fulfill. She didn’t like the reaction her body was having to him.

A flush heated her cheeks at his nearness. “And what exactly is your schedule, Captain?” She couldn’t help the edge in her question.

He shrugged. “To take you to Little Harbour.”

Impatience snapped at her heels like a nasty dog. She wanted to be there yesterday. “When will we sail?”

He glanced at his watch, at the sun low in the western sky, then at her.

“After midnight. Maybe 2:00 or 3:00 a.m.”

His blue eyes matched the damned glorious sky behind him, wreaking havoc with her pulse and making her want to paint an abstract of them on her soul.

Her body froze. Where did that thought come from? With only three weeks to accomplish her goal, she had no time to explore her attraction to a man who had agreed to help her only to please her father. A thought struck: perhaps Del Rio was a gold digger. Perhaps it was Reefside he was after. Maybe this rudderless ship’s captain hoped to gain a home through Poppa, so he’d canceled his Australian plans to accommodate her.

Not while I live and breathe.

If that were true, then Del Rio was truly despicable. With that thought, she unceremoniously quashed any attraction she might feel for this man. He had one, and only one, purpose: take her to Little Harbour. Other than his ability to captain the Honora, she had no use for Daniel Murphy Del Rio.

She breathed in the sea air, feeling infinitely restored. “So what do you figure? Four days to Little Harbour?”

He compressed his lips as if calculating. Given his experience, he should know the answer, immediately.

“I estimate six, maybe seven, days.”

Suspicion narrowed her eyes, and she realized she could use her sunglasses right about now. “I have a travel book, Captain. It says a yacht of this size can make the journey in three to four days.”

He took another swig of beer. “That’s if you hurry.”

Her temper started simmering. “You know I don’t want to waste any time.”

“You want your memory back?”

The question seemed to upset him. She answered slowly, trying to determine his intent. “Of course. Why else would I be here?”

His gaze held hers. “Then we should retrace the same journey you originally took to get to Little Harbour.”

She didn’t like where this conversation was leading. “How do you know how I got there?”

He looked past her to the horizon. “You’d be surprised what I know, Princess.” Frowning, he dropped his voice almost to a whisper. He leaned against the cushions and slugged the rest of his beer. “So, how about those nachos?”

“Oh, just like that, you criticize my lack of memory then ask me to wait on you? Have you lost your mind, Captain?”

Once again, here she was with no recall, while Del Rio smugly sounded like he knew all the answers. It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what, exactly, he did know, but she refrained. That would make her vulnerable and reliant on him. She hadn’t been prepared for that possibility.

His job was to take her to Little Harbour. Period.

Maybe that was the problem. Maybe he didn’t want to take her to the Abacos. Because of her, his departure to Australia had been delayed another month. No time to train. No time to organize a crew. Maybe he was taunting her because he just did not want to be here. Whatever the reason, a conversation with so much volatility within the first hour was not a good way to begin a voyage.

She studied his profile. What was it about this man that made her want to keep him at arm’s length, preferably like an employee? She knew he had an excellent rapport with Poppa. But with her he was an arrogant, sexy, rogue pirate with a quick laugh, whose gaze alone promised a seduction that would fulfill a woman’s deepest fantasy. She was quite certain any woman would relish three weeks on a ship with this man in charge. So, why not her?

She knew the answer. This sail was for her sister and mother. It was to stop the nightmares. Unearth answers. It had nothing to do with her and Del Rio.

Although she trusted her own gut and Poppa’s faith in the man’s ability to get her safely to her destination, she distrusted Del Rio because she could remember nothing about him.

He had proved to be the perfect gentleman over the past year. Yet with one look from him, her insides fluttered with a vague sense of knowing him, or wanting to know him, intimately, and that terrified her. She felt as if she were walking a high-wire blindfolded. She did not want to take another step.

She stood, hoping her glare would silence him. “Nice of you to offer, but I am not hungry. I’m going below. Don’t worry about making dinner for me.”

FROM WHERE HE SAT, DANIEL could hear Maria’s cabin door slam, the tremor vibrating through the ship’s hull.

Yep. This was going to be one hell of a trip.

He needed to do some final soul-searching here before leaving Fort Lauderdale. He was a man who few, if any, people could tell what to do. So, he had to admit taking this trip was something he wanted. But really. Why?

His life before meeting Maria had been chaotic, thrilling, prestigious. He’d been on the cover of sailing magazines. Earned enough money to run a small country. Dated beautiful women from Buenos Aires, Santiago, Monaco. Yet, while his life had never been more full, it had never seemed so empty.

He had lost both parents in a Chilean political coup when he was a young boy and had been exiled from his home country. Elias and Rosalinda had rescued him. Daniel had discovered racing helped to heal his broken heart, and gave him a chance to fly with the wind when memories of the demons that destroyed his world returned to haunt him.

Daniel attended the best American boarding schools. After his parents’ disappearance, Elias brought him home to Reefside for vacations whenever he was not racing somewhere in the world. Of course, he hardly saw Maria or Carmen in their teenage years. Rosalinda used to whisk them away to Chile or Paris during school breaks.

Daniel soon made a name for himself as a helmsman and was asked to captain corporate-sponsored boats. He loved the sea, racked up the trophies, but those distant horizons made a man eventually understand how alone he could be in the world.

While he had seen Maria’s artwork in celebrity homes where he partied, the woman herself had always managed to elude him. Her twin, Carmen, was the Santiago darling, running the club circuit, often accompanied by Rosalinda. Word in the clubs was that Maria preferred the solitude of her studio to the company of others. He could understand why. The depth, colors and questions in her paintings had seduced him in a way no woman ever could. He secretly harbored the hope of seeing Maria as soon as possible at Reefside and always accepted Elias’s invitations to come home.

He would never forget the first time he finally saw her. Elias had asked him to come celebrate the twins’ twenty-fifth birthday. Carmen and Rosalinda were spending the morning at the spa. Daniel had just finished lunch on the patio with Elias, drinking mohitos. Elias was enjoying a cigar when Maria descended her studio stairs in a big straw hat, a braid running down her shoulder and a bikini. Her tanned, smooth skin had glistened with suntan oil, her hypnotic eyes were shielded by a pair of sunglasses, and those full sweet lips were soft natural pink. Her ocean-blue bikini looked like Neptune’s mermaids had sewn the tiny strings and scraps of fabric to magically mold her luscious body.

Elias had chuckled at Daniel’s jaw-dropping reaction to Maria, and murmured, “I know, son.”

Daniel had asked to accompany her down to the beach. She had smiled, taken his hand, and from that day forward, had never let it go.

Then, there was Carmen. How twins could be so diametrically opposed boggled his mind. While Maria was sweet, sensual and loyal, Carmen was like a viper. Beautiful and dangerous. Any man who came into her sights was not long for this world. At least, that’s how Daniel perceived her.

Carmen had spent way too much time with her mother. Daniel suspected that the charming and seductive Rosalinda indulged in a few secret indiscretions, but that was no business of his. What was his business, however, was Maria. He had seen, firsthand, how his girlfriend’s naïveté shielded her from her coldhearted sister and calculating mother. Daniel had pegged both women as poisonous from his first encounters.

While he would always be grateful for Rosalinda’s generosity in bringing him into her home, he never extended himself past everyday courtesies or brief conversations. After he’d become older, Rosalinda’s gaze seemed to offer far more than a mother figure should. He’d always wondered why Maria and Elias couldn’t see this behavior in the other two women. He never acknowledged his own discomfort, not when Maria seemed happy.

He only wished he had known back then what he knew now. Perhaps he wouldn’t be sitting in this cockpit, anxious to restart his life while the woman of his dreams stormed below in a huff, wishing anyone, other than he, was on the Honora.

Literally. This trip was going to be hell.

THREE A.M. ARRIVED WITHOUT a sound. Daniel stretched on his bunk, immediately awake as if the water lapping the hull had caressed his senses alive. Years of sailboat racing had his internal clock set for the changing tide. Other than Maria, nothing appealed to him more than manning a ship under sail.

The heat of adrenaline surged through his veins at the prospect of running the Honora across the Gulf Stream. Clearly, it had been too long since he’d felt the sea beneath him. He could look at this trip as a shakedown for his confidence. Test the waters. Test his skills. Recapture faith in his vocation.

He was going to make this trip his way. Safely. Getting them there and back without a hitch. He’d clocked too many miles on a sailboat to let one accident, no matter how terrible, stop him from knowing exactly how to run a ship under any conditions. Besides, overcoming this hurdle would set several serious wrongs to right. He had made this promise to himself, to Carmen, to Rosalinda.

Making this run across the Gulf Stream would also help cleanse the poison in his heart that was filled by the Santiago women. He’d given up way too much for love. And though there was a very real chance that Maria might return once more to his arms, he needed this trek to reveal his own desires. Since the accident, Maria seemed more callous, the way Carmen used to be. Yet, Maria’s doctor assured him her behavior was a symptom of the amnesia. Fear often caused an amnesia victim to withdraw, or lash out, whichever reaction made them feel safer.

Once they reached the Bahamas, he and Maria might manage to enjoy the journey, as long as he ceased doubting his own abilities and helped Maria to feel safe.

He shook his head. At the rate yesterday afternoon had gone, fat freaking chance. Already his bravado was wavering. She had spoken to him more since boarding the ship than she had in a year, even if it had upset him. He’d almost forgotten how her sultry voice stirred his blood. Maybe if he played the role of a jerk, he could keep the animosity going and not worry about trying to seduce her.

Right. Even if he enraged her, he’d want to test his skills at subduing her. Hell, he used to do it all the time with her hotheaded temperament. Yes, indeed. He was screwed, no matter how he played his hand.

Her cabin was quiet across the dark salon. It was time to sail. The only drawback to the location of her berth was that the rattling anchor chain might awaken her.

Would that be so bad?

A beautiful woman’s company on a starlit morning with the trade winds pushing them across the Atlantic? Another impossible fantasy. Damn. So many dreams seemed just out of reach. Sighing, he climbed the companionway onto the deck.

She looked ethereal seated on the bow as moonlight mingled with the lantern light swaying above her head. The onboard breeze teased his senses with her perfume. Intent on the new creation coming to life on the easel, she didn’t sense him this time.

He sent a grateful prayer skyward. He wanted to watch for as long as possible. When she painted, his beautiful, talented and emotionally driven lover came to life. As usual, watching her concentrate while she created made him want her even more. It always had.

The waning moon behind them cast the tall mast and deck in silver light and shadows. Anyone else would have been facing the moon, bathing an upturned face in its thin, seductive light. But not Maria. She’d turned her back on the obvious.

Instead, she painted like a woman purging a nightmare. Agitation seemed to flow through the bristles as she slashed the ink-black canvas with haphazard strokes. She changed brushes without looking, and slowed to concentrate on what resembled singed angel wings spiraling through the star-dotted canvas past a fine line delineating night from a hollow, indigo sea. The effect was alluring. Forbidding.

Maria seemed terrified.

His breath caught in his throat. He’d catch her if she fell. Didn’t she know that? He drew closer, wanting only to comfort her.

With his first step, her head dropped.

“Why do you sneak up on me?”

The despair in her voice stung.

So, she wanted to cross swords. At least she was talking to him. “I like to see you jump, Princess. Nice to know you’ve still got a pulse.”

“Don’t be an idiot.”

He waited, willing her to look at him. Not a chance. “I thought you were sleeping.”

From the way her head dropped back, he could tell she closed her eyes, as if trying to gain patience with a buffoon. “I couldn’t sleep.”

“What are you painting?”

She scrunched a shoulder. “The moon.”

He moved closer. Still no eye contact. “But the moon is behind us.”

She lifted a hand toward the open sea. “Yes, but moonlight stains the sky and sea in pieces.”

Despite the intermittent flash of the lighthouse on the point, the few boats at anchor reflected the moonlight in glittering silver.

“You see the moon in pieces?”

She slowly met his gaze, as if surprised by his question. “It didn’t occur to me to think of it like that.”

He pointed to the falling, moon-singed wings on the canvas. “And what are these?”

She remained quiet way too long before whispering, “Not what. Who.”

“Oh.”

She didn’t need to say another word. He knew exactly who the wings represented. Carmen and Rosalinda. And now he felt like a loser of the highest order for pushing her anxiety.

Elias had told him Maria felt profound guilt that her sister and mother had died while she had not. This was too raw a subject to discuss so soon, especially while she had no faith in him. He scrambled to change the subject.

“I’ll bet you’ll earn a fortune for that one.” He let admiration fill his voice. “It’s haunting and beautiful.”

“You would think of money, Del Rio.”

Another insult. She sure knew how to push him. “Name’s Daniel, if you’d care to use it.”

She ignored the suggestion. “Know what this painting would fetch?” The anger in her eyes almost blinded him. What was he supposed to say? “With your charming wit right now? I don’t think I care.”

She shook her head. “You’re right. Me neither.”

Without breaking their gaze, she reached for the canvas and tossed it overboard, a simple splash confirming its destination.

“Now, it’s fish food.”

She’d tossed it overboard.

He wanted to shake her. That painting was beautiful. Damn his own foul temper. He sucked in a quick breath and glanced over the side. The canvas bobbed faceup in the moonlight. Slack tide. Good.

He mustered all the calm he could. “I guess that finishes one masterpiece.”

She turned in her chair and started to recap her paints.

“Do you care what happens to it?” he asked.

She didn’t look up. “I tossed it. Didn’t I?”

“Then do you mind if I salvage it?”

Her glance shot to him. “I’m not surprised you would go after it. I’m beginning to think you’re a bit of a gold digger.”

Another low blow. He’d have to play along with this one. “Well, then you’ll have to excuse me.”

Slowly, he pulled his T-shirt up, only breaking eye contact long enough to tug the garment over his head. Then he went for the tie at his shorts.

She stood, panic and heat warring in her eyes. “What are you doing?”

He fought the impulse to move closer when her gaze roamed his chest in the familiar way that had usually left them sweaty and, damn him, satisfied.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to retrieve my investment. If you don’t want it, I’ll consider it a bonus to my salary.”

Disregarding his answer, she lifted her hand, fingers outstretched, her gaze falling to his stomach. Would she…touch him? Then, as if she were coming out of a trance, his words registered. Anger mingled with heat in her eyes. “That’s my painting. You can’t have it.”

He chuckled to cover the groan rising in his throat. “Not anymore. Law of the sea. I keep anything I salvage.” He couldn’t help himself. “And that just might include you, Princess.”

Not even bothering to finish sealing the paint tubes, she crammed them into the box, slamming the lid closed.

“Why don’t you just drop dead, Del Rio?”

Daniel simply stared as she disappeared down the companionway, staggered at how empty the night felt with her absence. Once upon a time, her hands would have been all over him when he removed his shirt. How could he have hoped for her to touch him, again?

He moved toward the swim ladder. She’d forgotten the dinghy was launched. He’d pulled his shirt off just to rile her. He’d succeeded, all right. At the rate things were going, the water-drenched painting would be all of Maria Santiago he’d recover from this trip.

As he descended the ladder, he sighed, bone deep. Since the canvas depicted two souls falling to earth, no one deserved this painting more than he did.

THE WALLS OF MARIA’S CABIN closed in. How could the sight of Del Rio’s bare chest make her think she had a right to touch him—or even want to. And, Dios. The draw of his skin had her fingers aching.

Imagine. Claiming he’d salvage her along with her painting when the look in his eyes said ravage. The thought intoxicated her senses. Madre de Dios. That tanned wall of muscle and perfection he called a chest tempted her too quickly. Instinct had her fingertips reaching to brush the dark hair dusting the middle of his chest. She’d caught the impulse in time and slammed the paint box closed. Had he noticed her original intent? Heaven help her. Not even hours from home and she was losing her grip. Was she that desperate to touch a man?

Or was it just Del Rio?

She opened the paint box, forcing herself to concentrate on the slow ritual of capping and arranging her paints and cleaning the brushes. The scent of the oils soothed her. She wiped the palette clean, her body silently thrumming, her focused mind suddenly considering the idea of painting Del Rio for the second time today. This time, naked from the hips up.

Her hands stopped in midair.

What was she thinking? The rush of adrenaline coursing through her body was the same familiar drive she felt when her inspiration needed an outlet. Emotional overload spilled out onto her canvases when her passions ran high. Why would she experience this familiar, welcoming rush with Del Rio? Were they emotionally linked, and she could not remember? Dios, no. She would not even consider such a possibility. Not when her mind darkened so completely every time she probed for some kind of recognition.

The breeze invading the hatch over her bed betrayed no sound of Del Rio from above. Probably rescuing what he believed to be another piece of the family fortune, if indeed he was brownnosing Poppa for some sort of inheritance. She made a mental note to question her father about this. She needed more negative points to tick off when it came to Del Rio. Oh, yes. His belligerence was insufferable, his cocky, proprietary attitude toward her infuriating. Concentrating on these reminders should help kill any attraction she felt for him. So why did his pirate smile keep rising in her mind?

She swallowed hard. Because, she had felt a pull toward him before they even boarded ship. She’d purposely spent as little time as possible in his company. Given this undeniable attraction and her inability to recognize him from earlier years, as Poppa seemed to think she should, this man intimidated her like none other. She was doomed.

Okay, it was time to reevaluate her position if she planned to continue this trip. Del Rio was attractive…downright seductive. She could acknowledge that point. There was no way around the fact she was trapped with this man for the next few weeks. Something good had to come of this expedition. She would remember; she held that belief deep inside. Reaching the truth was her sole purpose for climbing onto the Honora.

In the meantime, Del Rio was not open for exploration. No matter what her fascination with him, until her memory was restored she could not cross into new territory, even if it held a muscled, irresistible, gentlemanly rogue who seemed more than willing to cross boundaries with her. No. No. No. Especially when she still had doubts about who he was, and his motives for taking her to Little Harbour. She had to remember first. Until then, Del Rio’s delectable body was off-limits. Period.

Instead, she’d journal her thoughts on canvas.

That was it. She’d paint her way to recovering her memory. She’d create her own, personal artist’s diary. This sail would offer therapy for channeling these disquieting thoughts and urges until she understood why they existed. There certainly were enough canvases in the guest cabin to accomplish the goal.

Satisfied with this decision, she felt confident she could remain in Del Rio’s company as a passenger on her father’s yacht.

Perfect.

Center ship, the engine rumbled to life. She closed her eyes, saying a prayer for strength. The thought of strength drew her mind to Poppa. The doctor had given her the okay to sail with the promise that Elias was strong. She wouldn’t have set foot on the Honora if she hadn’t gotten that guarantee.

After years of battling with diabetes, Elias was living on borrowed time. Diabetes was no simple disease. Her father had already progressed into advanced stages. His ankle joints had dissolved, although his feisty nature always had one believing he’d jump from his wheelchair at any moment. She suspected he had been seeking a way to keep her from witnessing his deterioration, especially his weakened heart. She would not have taken this trip if she did not believe she could recoup her memory and be fully present to help Poppa. If he worsened while she was away, there would be hell to pay.

She pushed the thought from her mind. Besides, a more immediate danger loomed. Captain Daniel Murphy Del Rio. How she’d manage keeping her distance from him on fifty feet of teak and mahogany presented a challenge. She’d pretend he didn’t exist. After all, she suspected he was only doing her father’s bidding. Arm’s length was easy with hired help. That should roast Del Rio’s pride until she could finish this voyage.

She’d push him to make Little Harbour in three days. The sooner this fiasco was finished, the better.

Settling herself at the small working table, she pulled out a sketch pad and some charcoals. Her sketches would keep her in the cabin until dawn. Daniel Del Rio could sail alone at that helm for the rest of the trip.

NOT EVEN A HALF HOUR outside the inlet, Maria bolted onto the deck, eyes wide. She clutched her stomach and lunged across the cushions wedging herself between the lifelines, her slim figure wrenching with dry heaves.

Daniel winced at her discomfort. “Didn’t eat any dinner, eh?”

She shook her head. “I’m sooo sick.”

Mal de mer brought the best men to their knees. He reached for his bottle of Gatorade and tossed it onto the seat beside her.

“Don’t worry, Princess. In a day or two, it’ll pass. In the meantime, sip that. It’ll keep you hydrated.”

She settled herself onto the cushion, sucking air deep into her lungs, too weak to object to his nickname for her.

“I could die.”

Daniel chuckled. “And to think, a short while ago, you wanted that to happen to me.”

She groaned. “Can you stop? Just for a moment?”

“The Honora?”

“No. The taunts. Pretend I’m not here. Okay?”

Like he could pretend not to breathe.

“Sure thing. I’ll imagine it’s just me and the sea on this amazing starlit night. No vomiting hottie leaning over the side, dirtying my teak while offering me a divine view of her stern.”

She shot him a venomous glare, but it lasted only a second. Like a rag doll she crumpled onto her back, covering her eyes with her arm.

“Oh, God. Can you stop this boat from rocking?”

His heart went out to her. This was not the sea-loving woman who would stay up with him during night crossings, turning her face into the wind while humming haunting songs or regaling him with childhood stories. His chest tightened. Would she ever change from the fragile, frightened woman she’d become? Would it help if he told her everything she was seeking so they could turn the ship around and not have to deal with her discomfort?

No. He’d promised Elias he’d hold his tongue and let her find her way. But this was taking things too far.

He leaned toward her. “Would it help to know you never got seasick before?”

It took only a moment to register what he meant by before. She glanced at him warily from under her arm.

“How do you know?” Accusation laced her words.

Oh, man. Maybe Elias was right. She wasn’t ready to hear anything he knew.

He shrugged a careless shoulder. “There’s a lot I know. Hang around. Maybe you’ll learn something.”

“I may have lost my memory, but there’s nothing I want to learn from you.” Her voice sounded bitter.

He shrugged again. “Probably right.”

She leaned on one elbow to sip the Gatorade. “I’m going to make this trip. Even if it kills me.”

Even if it kills me. Her words struck like a rogue wave. His hands gripped the wheel at the memory of her unconscious body floating facedown among the debris of a splintered speedboat while her twin and mother floated lifelessly nearby. A shudder ran through him. He could puke right beside her at the thought.

Reaching over her to trim the sails, he met her dark, challenging eyes and said, “I have an idea, Maria. Why don’t you just stop talking?”

CHAPTER FOUR

THE LATE-MORNING SUN splashed clear to the sea bottom as Daniel negotiated the Honora through the shallow water of the Bahamas’ West End and into the harbor without a hitch.

Maria had awakened and still lingered against the cockpit pillow, sipping coffee, her tanned feet peeking out from beneath the sheet. He’d suggested she sleep topside to keep the queasiness away. She’d slept within an arm’s length of him through the night, like a talisman.

It hadn’t taken long for Daniel to finally relax into sailing mode, aligning his body to the movement of the ocean, riding with the wind while his self-doubt disappeared behind the wake of the Honora. The sailboat skimming along alone in the night while Maria slept erased the last vestiges of fear he harbored about his ability to sail. While the seven-hour journey left him tired, he felt stronger than he had in a long time.

Earlier he had put the Honora on autopilot, hoisted the yellow quarantine flag for customs entry, brewed coffee in a thermos and buttered rolls to have waiting when Maria awoke. She wouldn’t be seasick for long, but until her sea legs kicked in, he wanted to pamper her. Hell, nothing had changed for him. He wasn’t the one who forgot they were lovers.

She yawned. “I’m feeling drowsy from the seasickness pill.”

“It’ll pass.”

She slid her sunglasses on. “So, this is West End.”

She spoke the words with open curiosity. West End boasted little more than an updated marina. The yellow, pink and turquoise buildings with aluminum roofs and white porches were recent additions.

Daniel pointed to the sun-drenched buildings along the beach. “That’s the resort. If the Honora isn’t comfortable for you, I can book you a room.”

She shielded her eyes from the sun. “Looks sweet, but I’m fine on board.”

Score one for the home team. “Well, then, other than a few packaged goods and supply stores, there’s not much here.”

Except for the large number of boats in the marina, West End seemed basically vacant. The flat sandy terrain, easy view of the water and the intense light of the Bahamian sun made this remote spit of land an oasis for weary sailors.

A smile creased those pouty lips. “I could paint this.”

While Daniel docked the boat, secured the lines and jumped off to tip the dock attendant for his help, Maria had watched from the cockpit, looking distracted. Daniel wondered if the docking routine had seemed familiar to her.

He stepped up the gangplank. “If you get your passport, I’ll clear us through customs. Until we’re cleared, I’m the only one permitted ashore.”

He found it interesting that she stayed put until he returned from below deck with his paperwork. He cooled his heels for five minutes, while she disappeared to retrieve hers.

“What? You didn’t trust yourself to be alone with me in the cabin?” He grinned when she climbed back to the cockpit.

“In your dreams, Captain,” she said, handing him her passport.

“There’s that.” Okay, friendly banter. So far, so good.

She peered over his shoulder. “Where’s customs?”

He pointed to a small coral-colored building with a slanting, shingled roof next to the fueling station. “There. I won’t be long. If you want to freshen up, we can look around when I get back.”

Thirty minutes later, quarantine flag down, Bahamian visitor’s flag hoisted, Daniel offered Maria a hand as she descended the gangplank. To his surprise, she took it. He appreciated how the breeze teased the white embroidered sundress against her curves and showed lots of smooth, tanned leg. The white thong sandals looked sexy on her feet. She seemed glad to be on dry land, but remained silent.

He wouldn’t question how relaxed she had become with him. He didn’t want to disturb this fragile, unspoken truce.

She pulled her elbow from his grasp, wrapping her arms around her waist. “I could use a cola. My stomach needs bubbles.”

He laughed. “Bubbles it is, then.”

She turned to view the marina, the small harbor ringed by a stone jetty, the Honora rocking gently at the dock. She froze.

“What’s wrong?”

She shook her head. “I feel odd. Like déjà vu. I can’t seem to shake the feeling I’ve been here before.”

Daniel sucked in a breath. He needed to say, Yes, love. You’ve been here with me. But the words died in his throat. Instead, he shrugged. “Maybe in a past life.”

He gestured down the dock to an outdoor bar doing a lively business serving brunch. “We’ll get you a cola with no ice and an order of conch fritters. You’ll feel better.”

Surprise lit Maria’s face as he realized his blunder. How would he know that conch fritters were her favorite, or that she drank soda with no ice?

He was grateful when a local woman approached carrying woven palm hats and shell bracelets. Seeing Maria’s frown, she asked, “Been a long sail, has it?”

Maria waved a hand. “You can’t imagine. I wanted to kiss solid ground.”

The woman laughed. “That’d be why I’m here forever. Too long a stretch across that pretty water for my liking.”

Daniel patted Maria’s shoulder. “It won’t take long before she finds her sea legs.”

She shot Maria a laughing glance. “If I lost my sea legs with this captain, I’d have need of a lap to keep me safe.”

Again, to his surprise, Maria laughed. “Oh, I managed without a lap. Sometimes we have to make sacrifices.”

The woman appraised Daniel from head to foot as if inspecting goods to purchase, obviously liking what she saw. Her mouth twisted into a toothy smile. She winked at Maria.

“Well, you keep playing hard to get, sugar. He’ll be taffy in your hands in no time.”

Daniel and Maria groaned in harmony.

The woman chuckled, lifting her wares. “Would you like to buy a bracelet?”

Maria waved her away. “Perhaps on our way back.”

The woman retreated, pointing to a beach chair beneath a palm tree with a tiny table holding palm fronds and small plastic boxes. “I’ll be right over there, darlin’. Be sure to come see me.”

Maria took the few steps to the edge of the dock and looked down. “She hasn’t got a clue.”

Daniel leaned closer, her soft powdery scent filling his senses, tossing him back to memories of her—here. “Maybe she’s right.”

She peered up at him over the rim of her sunglasses. “I can’t imagine you soft enough for anyone to mold.”

He laughed. “Oh, I don’t know, Princess. I’m thinking your hands could drive a hard bargain with me.”

Her gaze wandered to the grinning woman. She was close enough to catch every word. “I think I’ve heard enough, Captain.”

Chuckling, he ushered her down the dock. “Let me treat you to that cola.”

“Fine.” Maria waved as they passed the woman. “I loved her island accent. Think I’ll paint it.”

Daniel fell into step next to her, welcoming the change in subject. “How do you paint an accent?”

“You give it color and form, of course. But you wouldn’t have learned that in your fancy college.”

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