Page 42 of Suzanna's Surrender
Her hands were firm and competent on the wheel, her body braced and ready. The wistful look in her eyes had been replaced by a bright fearlessness that quickened his blood. Her face was flushed with excitement, dampened by the spray. She didn’t look like a princess now, but like a queen who knew her own power and was ready to wield it.
He let her race where she chose, knowing that she would end where he had wanted her for most of his life. He wouldn’t wait another day. Not even another hour.
She was breathless and laughing when she gave him the wheel again. “I’d forgotten what it was like. I haven’t handled a boat in five years.”
“You did all right.” He kept the speed high as he turned the boat in a wide half circle.
Still laughing, she rubbed her hands over her arms. “Lord, it’s freezing.”
He glanced toward her and felt the punch low in his gut. She was glowing—her eyes as blue as the sky and only more vital, the thin cotton pants and blouse plastered against her slender body, her hair streaming out from under the cap.
When his palms grew damp and unsteady on the wheel, he looked away. Not falling in love, he realized. He’d stopped falling and had hit the ground with a fatal smack. “There’s a jacket in the cabin.”
“No, it feels wonderful.” She closed her eyes and let the sensations hammer her. The wild wind, the golden evening sun, the smell of salt and sea and the man beside her, the roar of the motor and the churning wake. They might have been alone, completely, with nothing but excitement and speed, with either of them free to take the wheel and spear off into that fabulous aloneness.
She didn’t want to go back. Suzanna drank deeply of the tangy air and thought how liberating it would be to race and race in no direction at all, then to drift wherever the current took her.
But the air was already warming. They were no longer alone. She heard the long, droning horn of a tourist boat as Holt cut the speed and glided toward the harbor.
This too was lovely, she thought. Coming home. Knowing your place, certain of your welcome. She let out a little sigh at the simple familiarity. The blue water of Frenchman Bay deepening now with evening, the buildings crowded with people, the clang of buoys. It was all the more comforting after the frantic race to nowhere.
They said nothing as he navigated across the bay and circled around to drift to his pier. But she was relaxed when she jumped out to secure the lines, when she ran her hands over the dog who leaned against her legs, begging for attention.
“You’re quite the sailor, aren’t you, girl?” She crouched down to give the dog a good rub. “I think she wants to go again.”
Holt stepped nimbly to the dock and stood a foot apart. “There’s a storm coming in.”
Suzanna glanced up and saw that the clouds were blowing slowly but determinedly inland. “You’re right. We can certainly use the rain.” Foolish, she thought, to feel awkward now and start talking of the weather. She rose, uncertain of her moves now that he was standing here, tension in every line of his body, his eyes dark and intent on hers. “Thanks for the ride. I really enjoyed it.”
“Good.” The pier swayed when he started forward. Suzanna took two steps back and felt better when her feet hit solid ground.
“If you get a chance, maybe you can bring Sadie to visit Fred this weekend. He’ll be lonely without the kids around.”
“All right.”
She was halfway across the yard, and he was still a foot away. If it hadn’t seemed so paranoid, she would have said he was stalking her. “The bush is doing well.” She ran her fingers over it as she passed. “But you really need to feed this lawn. I could recommend a simple and inexpensive program.”
His lips curved slightly, but his eyes stayed on hers. “You do that.”
“Well, I... it’s getting late. Aunt Coco—”
“Knows you’re a big girl.” He took her arm to hold her still. “You’re not going anywhere tonight, Suzanna.”
Perhaps if she’d been wiser or more experienced, she would have gauged his mood before he touched her. There was no mistaking it now, not when his fingers had closed over her with taut possession, not when his needs, and his intention of satisfying them, were so clear in those deep gray eyes.
She wished she could have been so certain of her own mood and her own needs.
“Holt, I told you I needed time.”
“Time’s up,” he said simply, with an underlying edge that had her pulse jerking.
“This isn’t something I intend to take casually.”
Heat flashed into his eyes. From miles away came the violent rumble of thunder. “There’s nothing casual about it. We both know that.”
She did know it, and the knowledge was terrifying. “I think—”
He swore and swept her into his arms. “You think too much.”
