By it, I mean our kiss.
She folded her arms over her chest and gave him a glare. I know what you mean.
Just checking, he said, looking dejected.
Stop. She wasnt going to be emotionally manipulated.
Im not going to pretend. I miss you.
Theres nothing to miss. Im right here.
Prepared to talk work and only work.
Yes.
He was silent for a moment. Fine. Okay. Ill take it.
Good. She knew with absolute certainty that it was for the best.
He squared his shoulders. Who was that leaving?
That was Alex Dumont. Shes our new mechanic.
Matts brows went up. We have a new mechanic?
You knew I was hiring one.
But...
Tasha couldnt help an inward sigh. Shed seen this reaction before. But...shes a woman.
Thats not what I was going to say. I was surprised, is all.
That she was light on testosterone?
You keep putting words in my mouth.
Well, you keep putting expressions in your eyes.
He opened his mouth, but then he seemed to think better of whatever hed planned to say.
What? she asked before she could stop herself.
Nothing. He took a backward step. Im backing off. This is me backing off.
From who I hire?
Matt focused in on her eyes. His eyes smoldered, and she felt desire arc between them.
I can feel it from here, he said, as if he was reading her mind.
Her brain stumbled. Theres...uh... Im...
You cant quite spit out the lie, can you?
She couldnt. Lying wouldnt help. We have to ignore it.
Why?
We do. We do, Matt.
There was a long beat of silence.
I have a date Saturday night, he said.
A pain crossed her chest, but she steeled herself. No kidding.
I dont date that much.
I dont pay any attention.
It was a lie. From the staff quarters, shed seen him leave his house on the hill on many occasions, dressed to the nines. Shed often wondered where hed gone, whom hed been with, how late hed come home.
And shed watched him bring women to his house. They often dined on the deck. Caterers would set up candles and white linens, and then Matt and his date would chat and laugh the evening away.
Shed paid attention all right. But wild horses wouldnt drag the admission out of her.
* * *
So Saturday night, Matt had picked up the tall, willowy, expensively coiffed Emilie and brought her home for arctic char and risotto, catered by a local chef. They were dining in his glass-walled living room to candlelight and a full moon. The wine was from the Napa Valley, and the chocolate truffles were handcrafted with Belgian chocolate.
It should have been perfect. Emilie was a real estate company manager, intelligent, gracious, even a little bit funny. She was friendly and flirtatious, and made no secret of the fact that she expected a very romantic conclusion to the evening.
But Matts gaze kept straying to the pier below, to the yachts, the office building and the repair shop. Finally, Tasha appeared. She strode briskly beneath the overhead lights, through the security gate and up the stairway that led to the staff quarters. Some of his staff members had families and houses in town. The younger, single crew members, especially those who had moved to Whiskey Bay to work at the marina, seemed to appreciate the free rent, even if the staff units were small and basic. He was happy at the moment that Tasha was one of them.
He reflexively glanced at his watch. It was nearly ten oclock. Even for Tasha, this was late.
Matt? Emilie said.
Yes? He quickly returned his attention to her.
She gave a very pretty smile. I asked if they were all yours?
All what?
The boats. Do you really own that many boats?
I do, he said. Hed told this story a hundred times. I started with three about a decade ago. Business was good, so I gradually added to the fleet.
He glanced back to the pier, but Tasha had disappeared from view. He told himself not to be disappointed. Hed see her again soon. It had been a few days now since theyd run into each other. Hed tried not to miss her, but he did. Hed find a reason to talk to her tomorrow.
Emilie pointed toward the window. That one is huge.
Montys Pride is our largest vessel.
Could I see the inside? she asked, eyes alight. Would you give me a tour?
Before Matt could answer, there was a pounding on his door.
Expecting someone? she asked, looking a little bit frustrated by the interruption.
His friends and neighbors, Caleb Watford and TJ Bauer, were the only people who routinely dropped by. But neither of them would knock. At most, theyd call out from the entryway if they thought they might walk in on something.
Matt rose. Ill be right back.
Sure. Emilie helped herself to another truffle. Ill wait here.
The date had been going pretty well so far. But Matt couldnt say he was thrilled with the touch of sarcasm hed just heard in Emilies voice.
The knock came again as he got to the front entry. He swung open the door.
Tasha stood on his porch, her work jacket wrinkled, a blue baseball cap snug on her head and her work boots sturdy against the cool weather.
His immediate reaction was delight. He wanted to drag her inside and make her stay for a while.
Whats up? he asked instead, remembering the promise hed made, holding himself firmly at a respectful distance.
Somethings going on, she said.
Between us? he asked before he could stop himself, resisting the urge to glance back and be sure Emilie was still out of sight.
Tasha frowned. No. With Pacific Wind. She named the single-engine twenty-eight-footer. Its just a feeling. But Im worried.
He stepped back and gestured for her to come inside.
She glanced down at her boots.
Dont worry about it, he said. I have a cleaning service.
A cable broke on the steering system, she said.
Is that a major problem?
He didnt particularly care why shed decided to come up and tell him in person. He was just glad she had.
It was the first time shed been inside his house. He couldnt help but wonder if she liked the modern styling, the way it jutted out from the hillside, the clean lines, glass walls and unobstructed view. He really wanted to find out. He hadnt been interested in Emilies opinion, but he was curious about Tashas.
Its not a big problem, she said. I fixed it. Its fixed.
Thats good. He dared to hope all over again that this was a personal visit disguised as business.
Matt? came Emilies voice.
He realized hed forgotten all about her.
Ill just be a minute, he called back to her.
Youre busy, Tasha said, looking instantly regretful. Of course youre busy. I didnt think. She glanced at her watch. This is Saturday, isnt it?
You forgot the day of the week?
Matt, honey. Emilie came up behind him.
Honey? Seriously? After a single date?
Not even a single date, really. The date hadnt concluded yet.
Whos this? Emilie asked.
There was a dismissive edge to her voice and judgment in her expression as she gave Tasha the once-over, clearly finding her lacking.
The superior attitude annoyed Matt. This is Tasha.
Im the mechanic, Tasha said, not seeming remotely bothered by Emilies condescension.
Hmph, Emilie said, wrinkling her perfect nose. She wrapped her arm possessively through Matts. Is this an emergency?
Tasha took a step back, opening her mouth to speak.
Yes, Matt said. Its an emergency. Im afraid Im going to have to cut our date short.
He wasnt sure who looked more surprised by his words, Emilie or Tasha.
Ill call you a ride. He took out his phone.
It took Emilie a moment to find her voice. What kind of emergency?
The mechanical kind, he said flatly, suddenly tired of her company.
He typed in the request. He definitely didnt want Tasha to leave.
But Emilie began.
The ride will be here in three minutes, he said. Ill get your coat.
He did a quick check of Tashas expression, steeling himself for the possibility that shed speak up and out him as a liar.
She didnt.
He quickly retrieved Emilies coat and purse.
I dont mind waiting, Emilie said, a plaintive whine in her voice.
I couldnt ask you to do that. He held up the coat.
How long do you think
Could be a long time. It could be a very long time. Its complicated.
Matt, I can Tasha began.
No. Nope. He gave a definitive shake to his head. Its business. Its important. It might not be critical, but Tasha had never sought him out after hours before, so there had to be something going on.
Youre a mechanic? Emilie asked Tasha.
A marine mechanic.
So you get all greasy and stuff?
Sometimes.
That must be awful. Emilie gave a little shudder.
Emilie. Matt put a warning tone in his voice.
She crooked her head back to look at him. What? Its weird.
Its not weird.
Its unusual, Tasha said. But women are up to nearly fifteen percent in the mechanical trades, higher when you look at statistics for those of us under thirty-five.
Emilie didnt seem to know what to say in response.
Matts phone pinged.
Your rides here, he told Emilie, ushering her toward the door.
Tasha stood to one side, and he watched until Emilie got into the car.
You didnt have to do that, Tasha said as he closed the door.
It wasnt going well.
In that case, Im happy to be your wingman.
Matt zeroed in on her expression to see if she was joking. She looked serious, and he didnt like the sound of that.
I dont need a wingman.
Tell me whats going on. He gestured through the archway to the living room.
She crouched down to untie her boots.
You dont have to
Your carpet is white, she said.
I suppose.
Most of the women he brought home wore delicate shoes, stiletto heels and such.
Tasha peeled off her boots, revealing thick wool socks. For some reason, the sight made him smile.
She rose, looking all business.
Care for a drink? he asked, gesturing her forward.
She moved, shooting him an expression of disbelief on the way past. No, I dont want a drink.
I opened a great bottle of pinot noir. Im not going to finish it myself.
This isnt a social visit, she said, glancing around the room at the pale white leather furniture and long, narrow gas fireplace.
She was obviously hesitant to sit down in her work clothes.
Here, he suggested, pointing to the formal dining room. The chairs were dark oak, likely less intimidating if she was worried about leaving dirt on anything.
While she sat down, he retrieved the pinot from the glass porch and brought two fresh glasses.
He sat down cornerwise to her and set down the wine.
She gave him an exaggerated sigh. Im not drinking while I work.
Its ten oclock on a Saturday night.
Your point?
My point is youre officially off the clock.
So, youre not paying me?
Ill pay you anything you want. He poured them each some of the rich, dark wine. Arent you on salary?
I am.
You work an awful lot of overtime.
A good deal for you.
Im giving you a raise. He held one of the glasses out for her.
Ha ha, she mocked.
Take it, he said.
She did, but set it down on the table in front of her.
Twenty percent, he told her.
You cant do that.
I absolutely can. He raised his glass. Lets toast your raise.
I came here to tell you I might have made a big mistake.