responded even to the memory, and directed her gaze out over the water.
"Robyn?"
She blinked and jumped in surprise to find Shane standing directly in front of her. "I'm ready," she muttered with clenched-teeth determination, feelingas cheerful as if he'd just announced that the dentist would see her now.
Shane laughed, but his eyes were intent on her face. "Regretting the trip so soon?" he asked softly.
Robyn stood up slowly, all at once aware of the heat of the morning sun, the salty sea breeze, and the curiously vivid green of his eyes. And she wondered why she was wasting time with stupid, useless fears. "No," she responded just as softly. "Not regretting."
A muscle leaped in his lean jaw, and one hand jerked up as though pulled by strings. His fingers hesitated just before touching her cheek, then the hand fell heavily to his side. "Don't look at me like that," he warned roughly. "It plays havoc with all my good intentions!"
"Good intentions?" A smile hovered around the corners of her mouth. "I'll bet this is the first time you've ever denied yourself something you wanted."
He gave her a lopsided grin. "Don't rub it in. And stop smiling at me, you little witch! You have no idea what it does to my blood pressure."
Robyn experienced a sense of wonder at the desire he made no effort to hide, realizing that she'd never in her life met a man who spoke so openly about how he felt.
He reached up to rub his knuckles down her cheek with gentle roughness, then turned her around briskly and gave her a firm swat on the bottom. "Grab that line and cast off when I tell you to!"
Rubbing the abused portion of her anatomy, Robyn threw a half-laughing glare at him over her shoulder and stalked away to take the line he'd indicated. "Aye, aye," she said resentfully. "But please don't ask me to do anything desperately important, skipper, or we'll both end up in the drink!"
Within half an hour, they had left the marina behind. Shane had used the small engine to propel the boat until they were well out, and then cut its power and commanded Robyn to take the wheel while he showed her how to raise the sails.
A bit gingerly, she stood behind the big brass wheel and held it firmly, resisting her desire to watch the colorful sails of other boats heading out to sea. Dutifully, she watched Shane at work, trying to make sense of his movements and not having very much success. She nearly lost him once, swinging the wheel instinctively when a large motorized boat came a bit too close for her peace of mind.
Having regained his balance swiftly, Shane gave her a short lecture on maritime law, which inexplicably proclaimed that the smaller boat had the right of way. Robyn listened meekly.
She felt like a fool until he winked solemnly at her, and she realized that he wasn't at all dismayed by her ignorance. After that, it was easier to absorb his instructions.
"Swing it a bit to port," he called back to her, busily tying off one of the innumerable ropes.
Barely able to hear him over the snapping and cracking of the wind-filled sails, she responded hastily, "You're talking to a landlubber, remember! Is port left or right?"
He laughed. "Sorry! Port's left."
Wary after her near-catastrophe earlier, Robyn carefully turned the wheel to the left and felt rewarded when Shane gave her a thumbs-up signal. She swung her head to throw the single heavy braid back over her shoulder, and reflected that it was a good thing she'd decided on that style this morning. Her fine hair tangled easily, and, without the braid, she would have looked like a wild woman by now.
Apparently satisfied with the sails, Shane made his way back to her side. He moved deftly and easily about the heaving deck, and Robyn envied him his steady sea legs. She didn't feel sick-yet-but only her death grip on the brass wheel steadied her balance.
She watched him lean against the side of the boat, his arms folded casually across his chest, and she asked uneasily, "Aren't you going to
"Robyn?"
She blinked and jumped in surprise to find Shane standing directly in front of her. "I'm ready," she muttered with clenched-teeth determination, feelingas cheerful as if he'd just announced that the dentist would see her now.
Shane laughed, but his eyes were intent on her face. "Regretting the trip so soon?" he asked softly.
Robyn stood up slowly, all at once aware of the heat of the morning sun, the salty sea breeze, and the curiously vivid green of his eyes. And she wondered why she was wasting time with stupid, useless fears. "No," she responded just as softly. "Not regretting."
A muscle leaped in his lean jaw, and one hand jerked up as though pulled by strings. His fingers hesitated just before touching her cheek, then the hand fell heavily to his side. "Don't look at me like that," he warned roughly. "It plays havoc with all my good intentions!"
"Good intentions?" A smile hovered around the corners of her mouth. "I'll bet this is the first time you've ever denied yourself something you wanted."
He gave her a lopsided grin. "Don't rub it in. And stop smiling at me, you little witch! You have no idea what it does to my blood pressure."
Robyn experienced a sense of wonder at the desire he made no effort to hide, realizing that she'd never in her life met a man who spoke so openly about how he felt.
He reached up to rub his knuckles down her cheek with gentle roughness, then turned her around briskly and gave her a firm swat on the bottom. "Grab that line and cast off when I tell you to!"
Rubbing the abused portion of her anatomy, Robyn threw a half-laughing glare at him over her shoulder and stalked away to take the line he'd indicated. "Aye, aye," she said resentfully. "But please don't ask me to do anything desperately important, skipper, or we'll both end up in the drink!"
Within half an hour, they had left the marina behind. Shane had used the small engine to propel the boat until they were well out, and then cut its power and commanded Robyn to take the wheel while he showed her how to raise the sails.
A bit gingerly, she stood behind the big brass wheel and held it firmly, resisting her desire to watch the colorful sails of other boats heading out to sea. Dutifully, she watched Shane at work, trying to make sense of his movements and not having very much success. She nearly lost him once, swinging the wheel instinctively when a large motorized boat came a bit too close for her peace of mind.
Having regained his balance swiftly, Shane gave her a short lecture on maritime law, which inexplicably proclaimed that the smaller boat had the right of way. Robyn listened meekly.
She felt like a fool until he winked solemnly at her, and she realized that he wasn't at all dismayed by her ignorance. After that, it was easier to absorb his instructions.
"Swing it a bit to port," he called back to her, busily tying off one of the innumerable ropes.
Barely able to hear him over the snapping and cracking of the wind-filled sails, she responded hastily, "You're talking to a landlubber, remember! Is port left or right?"
He laughed. "Sorry! Port's left."
Wary after her near-catastrophe earlier, Robyn carefully turned the wheel to the left and felt rewarded when Shane gave her a thumbs-up signal. She swung her head to throw the single heavy braid back over her shoulder, and reflected that it was a good thing she'd decided on that style this morning. Her fine hair tangled easily, and, without the braid, she would have looked like a wild woman by now.
Apparently satisfied with the sails, Shane made his way back to her side. He moved deftly and easily about the heaving deck, and Robyn envied him his steady sea legs. She didn't feel sick-yet-but only her death grip on the brass wheel steadied her balance.
She watched him lean against the side of the boat, his arms folded casually across his chest, and she asked uneasily, "Aren't you going to
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