No worries there. Spree was going to be fine.
So would the women once they got back on dry land.
Maybe it was time to offer to take them back to the Keys. Their decision. He bet he knew what they were going to want.
“You want to take over?” he asked Irish, who sat beside Joan, eyeing her with sympathy.
Cat jumped up. “Yes. For some reason I feel better when I have the wheel.”
“That’s the way it always works. The wind is strong and the rudder will fight you, but you can manage.”
Irish squeezed in front of him, placed her hands on the wheel and spread her legs wide. Nothing about her motions should be sexy, but damned if they weren’t, even in a life jacket. And the woman felt good pressed against him.
Inappropriate, Rivas. Javi stepped away, giving her the helm. “You got it?”
She nodded, a small smile playing with her lips, which intrigued him. Irish was one of those natural sailors who just “got” how to handle a boat. It would be fun to race against her when she got a little more experience.
“Do you think your friends would like to go back to the Keys?” he asked.
She glanced at him in surprise, but quickly refocused on the main, her gaze worriedly assessing the telltales flowing over the sail.
Good girl. She really does learn fast.
“Is that an option?” she asked.
“Totally up to the three of you, but I don’t think Joan or Debbie are having much fun right now.”
She bit her bottom lip, he suspected to stifle a laugh.
“Maybe not,” she agreed.
While Irish concentrated on getting the feel of the boat, and probably thinking about a return to Florida, Javi took the opportunity to check her out. She wore shorts and T-shirt. Before she’d put on the life preserver, he’d tried, without success, not to notice how her shirt strained against her generous breasts. The wind had pulled much of her long auburn hair loose from the ponytail, and she constantly tucked a stray lock behind an ear.
“Ask them,” she said.
“What?”
She shot him a quick look, and a slight smile told him she’d caught him eyeing her. No harm in looking.
“Ask them if they want to go back,” she said.
“Do you?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Not really, but this vacation was all about Debbie. We wanted to cheer her up.”
“Is she the recent divorcée?”
“Yes.”
“I figured.”
Irish’s cheeks, already flushed from the wind, reddened. “You heard us, huh?”
“Hard not to.”
“So,” Cat said, “I’ll do whatever Deb wants.”
Javi turned to ask the question, and found Debbie sitting up.
“I have to pee,” she said.
“I don’t recommend going below,” Javi said. “Remember what happened to Joan. You’ll really feel the motion of the ocean down there.”
“Sorry,” Deb said. “No choice.”
“Wait. Do you want to turn around?” Javi asked.
“What?” Deb halted her awkward progress toward the companionway. “You mean, go back to Marathon?”
“Only if you want to,” Irish said.
“But aren’t we closer to Bimini than Florida by now?”
“No,” Javi said. “Not really.”
He watched Debbie raise her chin, a surprisingly stubborn look in her eyes. Still, he was surprised when she shook her head.
“I’m not giving up.”
“We wouldn’t be giving up, Debbie,” Irish said. “We’re getting you back to dry land where you won’t be sick.”
“No,” Debbie insisted. “I want to go to Gun Cay.”
“You’re sure?” Irish asked.
“Yeah.”
When Debbie descended into the cabin below, Javi said, “We won’t see her again until we arrive at shore.”
Irish shrugged. “Part of the trouble between her and Brad was he said she was a quitter.”
“Doesn’t appear that way to me,” Javi said.
“So we keep going?” Irish asked.
Javi glanced to Joan, who had also sat up. “Unless you and Joan want to outvote her.”
Joan looked to port, but there was no longer any land visible. She sighed in a way that told Javi she’d go back in a flash. “Like Debbie said.”
“Your decision,” Javi said, his opinion of the women rising. They certainly weren’t wimps. “On to Gun Cay.”
Joan came to her feet. “I’m miserable no matter where I am, so I’m going to my soft bed.”
When Joan disappeared, Javi said, “I hope they don’t puke all over the cabin.”
AT THE WHEEL of Spree, Cat scanned the horizon, searching for the marker that signaled the entrance to the channel into Alice Town. According to Javi, they should be approaching North Bimini, the best place for them to clear customs.
Hidden by the sail, Javi was on the foredeck, probably relieving himself over the side of Spree, which was easier than having to go below. For sure men had it easier in the plumbing department. The wind remained steady, but the sea had grown calmer since they’d left the Gulf Stream, allowing Spree to easily slice through the water. With only the shortened mainsail up, the boat sailed almost level.
She ought to be exhausted from the punishing trip, and yeah, physically, her body was drained. Muscles she hadn’t known existed were sore, yet her brain remained alert and active. She couldn’t remember ever feeling quite this alive, this...free. And victorious, like she’d bested an ancient foe.
Perhaps that’s what the sea was. Isn’t that why men had gone to sea since time began, for the challenge the oceans presented?
Maybe she was more tired than she realized.
She didn’t want to think about what she looked like. She knew her clothes were wrinkled and filthy. She hadn’t combed her hair or bathed since yesterday morning, much less brushed her teeth. But for some reason her appearance didn’t matter. Maybe because the captain looked equally in disarray. On him, though, it was sexy.
She was hungry, though. Around 1:00 a.m. Javi had left her at the helm to heat up a can of tomato soup, which had tasted better than any meal she’d eaten in years. Although her real pleasure came from the fact that the captain had trusted her while he went below to fire up the stove. He’d also made coffee and poured it into a thermos, and they’d sipped all night to stay awake.
She’d gotten used to the shroud of darkness around them. Other than their mandatory running lights—one red and one green on either side of the