inexperienced eye, like a battleship. The thing was huge.
Perhaps reading the anxiety in her gaze, Shane assured her, "Don't worry-two can handle it."
"But I don't know anything about sailing," she protested hesitantly, watching him toss her bag aboard and then step neatly onto the deck.
"I'll teach you." Shane appeared unconcerned.
She stared at the hand he held out to her, then mentally burned her bridges. Taking the hand, she made use of the one bit of nautical protocol she'd culled from movies and television. "Permission to come aboard?"
"Granted." He grinned at her, his emerald eyes incredibly bright in the early morning sunlight. He helped her over the side, steadying her as the boat shifted slightly. Robyn suddenly had a horrid thought.
"Oh, no! What if I get seasick?"
He chuckled softly. "I thought of that. There're some pills for motion sickness in the galley. You can take one now, if you like. They really do the trick."
"I think I will," she murmured, releasing her death grip on his hand and bending carefully to pick up her bag. The thought of getting sick drove other thoughts from her mind. She looked toward a doorway and then lifted a quizzical brow at Shane. "Down there?"
"Down there," he confirmed, seemingly amused by her uncertainty. "The galley's to the left when you reach the bottom of the steps. Your cabin's to the right. The galley, by the way, is the kitchen."
Robyn swung the duffel bag over her shoulder and staggered under the weight of it. Glaring up into his amused eyes, she stated with offended dignity, "I'm not that dumb. I know the galley's the kitchen."
She got a firmer grip on her bag and stalked- carefully-toward the doorway. "Are we going to float here all day like a lily pad. or are we going some where?" she questioned huffily over her unburdened shoulder.
"We're going somewhere," he assured her, laughing. "You put your stuff away and take a pill, then come back up here and give me a hand and we'll get underway."
Robyn went down the steps carefully, leaving her bag in the cubbyhole of a hallway while she explored the galley. The cramped room hardly seemed large enough to store anything in, but she soon discovered that quite a large amount of supplies and foodstuffs had been neatly placed in the cabinets and drawers. She puzzled for a moment over the somewhat elaborate latches that secured doors and drawers, then realized that such precautions would be necessary in rough seas.
Her already nervous stomach tightened at the reminder, and she hastily began looking for the motion-sickness pills. She located them in a cabinet over the postage-stamp sized sink. Moments later she had washed down the required number of pills with some orange juice she found in the small refrigerator.
Making sure that everything was again fastened securely, she left the galley. She looked in briefly at the tiny bathroom complete with a narrow shower stall, then opened the remaining door in the hall.
The tiny cubicle, which bore the glorified name of "cabin," was only slightly larger than her closet at home. Two bunk beds took up most of the available room. The remaining space was merely a narrow walkway, lined by the beds on one side and two small chests on the other. Above the chests was a small mirror carefully secured to the wall. Directly opposite the door was a large porthole.
Electing to put her things away later, Robyn lifted her bag to the bottom bunk and then went back out into the hall, shutting the cabin door behind her. She stood there for a moment, knowing there was something bothering her but unable to figure out just what it was. And then she had it.
Separate cabins. He'd said that they would have separate cabins on the trip.
She stared carefully at the three doorways, looked in each room a second time, and then stood in the hall frowning at the steps. Granted, the cabin had two beds. But two beds did not separate cabins make. And Robyn had a feeling that Shane had known exactly how many
Perhaps reading the anxiety in her gaze, Shane assured her, "Don't worry-two can handle it."
"But I don't know anything about sailing," she protested hesitantly, watching him toss her bag aboard and then step neatly onto the deck.
"I'll teach you." Shane appeared unconcerned.
She stared at the hand he held out to her, then mentally burned her bridges. Taking the hand, she made use of the one bit of nautical protocol she'd culled from movies and television. "Permission to come aboard?"
"Granted." He grinned at her, his emerald eyes incredibly bright in the early morning sunlight. He helped her over the side, steadying her as the boat shifted slightly. Robyn suddenly had a horrid thought.
"Oh, no! What if I get seasick?"
He chuckled softly. "I thought of that. There're some pills for motion sickness in the galley. You can take one now, if you like. They really do the trick."
"I think I will," she murmured, releasing her death grip on his hand and bending carefully to pick up her bag. The thought of getting sick drove other thoughts from her mind. She looked toward a doorway and then lifted a quizzical brow at Shane. "Down there?"
"Down there," he confirmed, seemingly amused by her uncertainty. "The galley's to the left when you reach the bottom of the steps. Your cabin's to the right. The galley, by the way, is the kitchen."
Robyn swung the duffel bag over her shoulder and staggered under the weight of it. Glaring up into his amused eyes, she stated with offended dignity, "I'm not that dumb. I know the galley's the kitchen."
She got a firmer grip on her bag and stalked- carefully-toward the doorway. "Are we going to float here all day like a lily pad. or are we going some where?" she questioned huffily over her unburdened shoulder.
"We're going somewhere," he assured her, laughing. "You put your stuff away and take a pill, then come back up here and give me a hand and we'll get underway."
Robyn went down the steps carefully, leaving her bag in the cubbyhole of a hallway while she explored the galley. The cramped room hardly seemed large enough to store anything in, but she soon discovered that quite a large amount of supplies and foodstuffs had been neatly placed in the cabinets and drawers. She puzzled for a moment over the somewhat elaborate latches that secured doors and drawers, then realized that such precautions would be necessary in rough seas.
Her already nervous stomach tightened at the reminder, and she hastily began looking for the motion-sickness pills. She located them in a cabinet over the postage-stamp sized sink. Moments later she had washed down the required number of pills with some orange juice she found in the small refrigerator.
Making sure that everything was again fastened securely, she left the galley. She looked in briefly at the tiny bathroom complete with a narrow shower stall, then opened the remaining door in the hall.
The tiny cubicle, which bore the glorified name of "cabin," was only slightly larger than her closet at home. Two bunk beds took up most of the available room. The remaining space was merely a narrow walkway, lined by the beds on one side and two small chests on the other. Above the chests was a small mirror carefully secured to the wall. Directly opposite the door was a large porthole.
Electing to put her things away later, Robyn lifted her bag to the bottom bunk and then went back out into the hall, shutting the cabin door behind her. She stood there for a moment, knowing there was something bothering her but unable to figure out just what it was. And then she had it.
Separate cabins. He'd said that they would have separate cabins on the trip.
She stared carefully at the three doorways, looked in each room a second time, and then stood in the hall frowning at the steps. Granted, the cabin had two beds. But two beds did not separate cabins make. And Robyn had a feeling that Shane had known exactly how many
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