Devlin Read online

  And when his lips touched hers, the voice in her head started yelling yes, yes, yes.

  Closing her eyes, she gave in to the desire sweeping through her, opening her mouth to his, taking the kiss where she wanted it to go. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing her breasts against his solid chest, slipping her leg between his.

  The chemistry between them was incredible, the hunger running through her strong and irresistible. She thought she could keep on kissing him forever…

  If only her brain wasn't trying to leap into action, wasn't trying to remind her that Devlin was the enemy.

  But he didn't feel like an enemy, and she was having trouble remembering why she didn't like him.

  And then a loud thud from below broke them apart.

  "What was that?" she asked in alarm.

  "I have no idea, but I'm going to find out. Stay here."

  Chapter Six

  Hannah steadied her hand on the wheel as Devlin moved across the deck and down the stairs, not sure if she should be grateful or unhappy that their impulsive kiss had come to an end.

  Relieved, she told herself. You should be relieved.

  She frowned, hearing Devlin talking… What the hell? She'd thought it was just the two of them on the boat.

  Since Devlin wasn't shouting with alarm, she ignored his order to stay put, and went down the stairs, into the salon and galley kitchen that separated two staterooms. Standing in the doorway of one of those staterooms was a boy of about ten or eleven. He had blond hair and big brown eyes and was wearing shorts, a T-shirt, and tennis shoes.

  "Who's this?" she asked.

  "This is Mason Rogers," Devlin said. "He apparently got on the boat when I wasn't looking."

  "Hi, Mason. I'm Hannah."

  "Don't be nice to him," Devlin said. "He's a stowaway. We should make him walk the plank."

  Mason's eyes widened. "You're going to throw me in the water?"

  "I should," Devlin said.

  Despite his firm tone, Mason didn't look too worried by Devlin's threat. Clearly, the two of them knew each other.

  "Where does your mom think you are?" Devlin asked Mason.

  "At baseball practice, but I don't like baseball. I'm terrible at it. I want to be a sailor like my dad."

  Hannah smiled at the fervor in his eyes. Mason definitely had the bug. She could see the understanding lurking in Devlin's eyes as well. He'd probably been a lot like Mason as a kid.

  "Are you going to tell my mom?" Mason asked.

  "You're going to tell her. Right now." Devlin pulled out his phone.

  "Can't we sail for a little longer?" Mason pleaded. "She won't let me out of the house for a month after this."

  "We'll finish our sail, but you're still going to call her now, so she doesn't worry about you." He pushed a button on his phone, then handed it to Mason. "It's ringing."

  Mason let out a sad sigh, and then said, "Mom, it's me. I'm not at baseball practice. I'm sailing with Devlin." He paused. "Mr. Blackthorne, I mean. He's going to bring me back after we're done sailing." He listened for another minute, then handed Devlin the phone. "She wants to talk to you."

  "Hi, Erica," Devlin said. "Mason is fine. He snuck on board when I wasn't looking. Don't worry. It will be fine. It's not an inconvenience. I'll bring him home in an hour or so. Does that work? Great." He ended the call and put the phone into his pocket. "I should make you spend the rest of the sail in the closet you were hiding in," he told Mason.

  Mason gave him a pleading look. "Can I please come up on the deck? It's hot down here. I'll do whatever you say."

  "You will definitely do whatever I say," Devlin told him. "And you'll put on a life jacket, too."

  "Okay," Mason said eagerly.

  He gave her a smile as they followed Mason up the stairs.

  "Looks like we got ourselves a chaperone," he said. "Disappointed?"

  "Not at all. It's probably a good thing. We don't even like each other," she said, trying to ignore the shiver running down her spine.

  He laughed. "Don't we, Hannah?"

  Okay, so she did like him, probably more than she should. And watching Devlin answer Mason's endless questions while also allowing him to help sail the boat was touching and heartwarming. Devlin was patient and kind. "You might be a Blackthorne," she told him, "but you are nothing like your father."

  "I'll take that as a compliment." He moved to the side as Mason hung on to the wheel. The boat was back on autopilot, but Mason probably still felt like he was in charge, and she'd never seen a happier kid.

  "I'm going to be a sailor when I grow up," Mason declared, glancing back at them. "I'm already saving my allowance, so I can get a boat. I want to race this summer, but my mom says it's expensive and we can't afford it."

  Devlin frowned. "I'm sure she appreciates you saving your allowance."

  "Do you think I could help you and make more money?" Mason asked.

  "We'll see."

  As Mason looked back out at the water, Devlin said quietly, "Mason's dad died last year."

  "I'm sorry to hear that," she murmured.

  "Mason's mom, Erica, is our admin at the Boatworks. She has been struggling on her own trying to take care of Mason and his two younger sisters. I've tried to help, but I need to do better by them. I know how much Mason loves boats. I should have anticipated that he'd try to stow away. I caught him hiding in the boat when it was still in the shop."

  "He's got the fever."

  Devlin grinned back at her. "We both know the feeling, don't we?"

  "I'd almost forgotten, but it's coming back to me."

  "Good. Because you should never forget this."

  She knew he was talking about sailing, but she thought there were a lot of things about this day that she wasn't going to be able to forget, no matter how hard she tried.

  "I'm sorry we were interrupted," he said softly. "Things were just getting interesting."

  "I didn't come here to give you interesting."

  "It was an unexpected side benefit."

  She shook her head in confusion. "I don't get you, Devlin. I yelled at you. I told you I was going to beat you in your favorite race, and you want to kiss me? What's that all about?"

  "Hell if I know," he said with a laugh. "What can I say but that I find you incredibly attractive? I also like the way you're fighting for your father. I respect fierce loyalty. As for the race, I also love a good competitor."

  "Even if you lose?"

  "I don't intend to lose."

  "I'm sure you don't. You're a man who probably wins a lot."

  "Because I work hard." An irritated gleam entered his eyes. "I'm sure you don't believe that, but it's true."

  "You work hard, but you also work in your family's company. You didn't have to scrape your way to the top."

  "True, but don't you work for your mother?"

  She frowned at the reminder. "That's different. We're not rich."

  "But your mother's company is successful, so you didn't have to start in the real estate business at the bottom."

  "Fine, point taken. I had a leg up, and so did you."

  "But what we've done after that is all on us. And, frankly, my father is creating more problems for me right now than he's solving."

  "My mom has done that, too. She got in the middle of one of my deals and almost lost it for me. But she thought she knew best. I wanted to kill her."

  "I know the feeling."

  "Devlin, look—dolphins." Mason pointed to two dolphins frolicking in the water.

  "Cool," Devlin said. "But you have to pay attention to what you're doing, Mason. You need to be ready and let me know if the wind changes direction."

  "I will," Mason promised.

  Devlin stepped over to the wheel to give Mason more instructions.

  The wind had changed direction, she thought.

  She just didn't know if she should keep sailing into it.

  They got back to the harbor a little after three and headed toward the park
ing lot behind the Yacht Club. "Do you have your car?" Devlin asked.

  "No. I walked here."

  "I'll give you a ride."

  "You need to take Mason home."

  "That will only take a few minutes and your house is less than a mile from the Boatworks, so it's not out of my way. Why don't you come with me?"

  She really needed to start saying no to Devlin's invitations, but maybe not just yet. "All right." She slid into the front seat of Devlin's black Audi, not surprised he'd have an expensive and sophisticated car. For all Devlin's casual, back-to-nature style, he was still a Blackthorne.

  Mason talked all the way to his house, jumping from one question to the next, without waiting for an answer. But as soon as they pulled up in front of his house, he fell silent.

  A woman stepped out of the modest one-story structure. She wore jeans and a knit top that revealed her thin frame. Her brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail and even from a distance, Hannah thought she looked tired. The door behind her opened and two little girls came onto the porch. They looked to be twins, probably about three years old.

  "Do you want to meet my mom?" Mason asked her, a hopeful gleam in his eyes.

  He probably thought introducing her to his mother would be a good distraction and put off his punishment that much longer.

  "I think I'll stay here."

  "Come, say hello," Devlin urged. "Erica is a big fan of your father's. She was furious when he was let go. I'm sure she'd like to meet you."

  Well, when he put it like that, she could hardly say no. She got out of the car and followed Devlin and Mason across the overgrown lawn.

  "I'm so sorry, Devlin," Erica said immediately. "I'm really embarrassed that Mason snuck away from baseball practice and got onto your boat. And you, young man, are in big trouble," she told her son. "Go in the house and take your sisters with you. We'll talk about your punishment in a minute. Oh, and say thank you to Mr. Blackthorne before you go."

  "Thank you, Dev—Mr. Blackthorne," Mason said, then ran up the steps and grabbed the hands of his two little sisters, taking them into the house.

  "I hope Mason didn't interrupt your date." Erica gave her a speculative look.

  "We're not on a date," she said quickly.

  "This is Hannah Reid," Devlin said, smiling at her hasty comment. "Frank's daughter. And, as she said, we were not on a date. I was just showing her the boat."

  "Oh, Hannah," Erica said, her smile filling with warmth. "I can't believe I'm finally meeting you. Frank talks about you all the time. But he said you rarely get out to Maine anymore."

  "It has been a few years."

  "I'm Erica Rogers. Devlin probably told you that. I'm the admin at the Boatworks. I work closely with your father." Her lips tightened as she gave Devlin a hard look. "Or at least I did until this nonsense happened."

  Devlin put up a hand. "You know it wasn't my doing."

  "It's still wrong. How is Frank feeling, Hannah? I've called and texted, but he doesn't reply."

  "He's all right. He hasn't felt like talking to anyone, but he is considering his options."

  "And I'm still working on getting Frank his job back, Erica," Devlin put in. "It's not a done deal as far as I'm concerned."

  "I hope not," Erica said. "Losing Frank would cripple the company. In fact, as soon as the rumors start taking hold, we're going to be dealing with lots of questions."

  "I'm aware of that. Putting that situation aside," Devlin said. "Mason told me that he'd like to participate in the kids' sailing program this summer, but he needs a boat."

  Erica frowned. "He should not have bothered you with that."

  "Maybe I can help."

  "You've done more than enough for us, Devlin. You are not going to buy Mason a boat. He's eleven. He can wait. And after what he did today, I should not be rewarding his behavior."

  "He loves being on the water," Devlin said. "Like Jim."

  She gave him a sad smile. "He is his father's son."

  "If we can't find him a boat, we can make him one. It's what we do."

  "A seven-foot dinghy isn't on our luxury boating product list," she said with a dry smile.

  "I have an idea," Devlin said. "We'll talk on Monday."

  "All right. It was nice to meet you, Hannah. Will you tell Frank I'm thinking about him?"

  "I will."

  As Erica went into the house, they returned to the car.

  "How did her husband die?" she asked, as she fastened her seat belt.

  "Car accident. One minute he was there, and the next he was gone. Although, to be honest, I think most deaths feel like that, even when you have warning. There's never enough time."

  His voice grew rough, and she remembered a night from a long time ago when her father had brought home a drunken, angry, heartbroken Devlin. She'd been sixteen and had just arrived for the summer. Devlin had been twenty-one and a recent college graduate.

  Her father had told her to go back into her room, but she'd heard a little of what they'd said to each other, and she knew that a girl Devlin had been dating had passed away. She'd never really heard the details. Her father wouldn't talk about it, and she hadn't seen Devlin again after that summer. She'd heard he'd gone traveling, taking time off to figure out his next move. But she'd wondered if he hadn't gone somewhere to heal.

  Glancing over at him now, she saw his hard profile, and wondered if he was remembering, too.

  "Was that how it felt to you?" she asked.

  He gave her a sharp look. "What are you talking about?"

  "I know you suffered a loss, Devlin. I was at the house the night my father let you sleep on our couch a long time ago."

  "You were there? I don't remember seeing you."

  "I was in my room when he brought you back from the bar. You were wasted and sad."

  "Were you eavesdropping?"

  "Yes, but I only heard bits and pieces, and my dad refused to fill in the blanks. He told me not to tell anyone you had been there." She paused, waiting for him to say something, but he remained silent. "What happened, Devlin?"

  "It was a long time ago, Hannah."

  "Someone you cared about died. Was it sudden? Was it an accident?"

  He didn't answer, but he did make a turn. He drove down a street that dead-ended at the beach, then turned off the engine, staring out at the sea once more.

  "Are you going to tell me?" she asked tentatively.

  His gaze swung to hers. "I don't know. I might regret it."

  "Then maybe you shouldn't. It's personal, and I'm being too pushy—as usual."

  He blew out a breath. "She wasn't anything like you, Hannah."

  She didn't know if she should take that as an insult or a compliment. Maybe this conversation was a bad idea… But it was too late now.

  Chapter Seven

  "Amy was quiet," Devlin said. "She was a people pleaser and a peacemaker and probably one of the sweetest people I've ever known. We met at the beginning of our senior year at Yale. She was a photographer and was taking photos of one of my sailing races for the college newspaper. We started talking, and we never stopped."

  She could hear the love in his voice and felt an odd tingle of envy run through her, but she could not be jealous of this poor young woman who had died too young. "What happened to her, Devlin?"

  "She was diagnosed with a rare form of bone cancer right after Christmas. We'd only been dating since October, and it seemed surreal. She thought she'd pulled a muscle in yoga, but when the pain didn't go away after a few weeks, she finally went to the doctor. It was a devastating diagnosis. We were twenty-one years old. It seemed impossible that she could suddenly be that sick when she was fine before that."

  "I can't even imagine."

  "The disease moved very quickly. Her parents wanted to take her home, but she was too sick to move, so they got a rental by the school and took care of her there until she went into the hospital. I spent a lot of time with them. We were all trying to be positive, but by the end of March, she
was gone."

  "That is so fast."

  He stared out at the sea. "I don't know how I made it through the last quarter of school. I was completely numb. But I felt compelled to graduate, because Amy had made me promise that I would, that I'd walk across the stage for both of us. That's what I did."

  There was so much pain in his voice, her heart broke for him. "I'm sorry, Devlin. Maybe you should stop talking."

  He ignored her suggestion, turning his gaze on her. "Even though I knew her death was coming, it still shocked the hell out of me. I wasn't ready. I don't think she was, either. We had only ever talked about her getting better, about the future she'd have—we'd have. When I would leave her at night, I'd tell her I'd see her soon. And she'd smile and say she couldn’t wait. But one night she slipped away while I was sleeping. Her dad came and woke me up, but it was over. I never got to say good-bye."

  "That's awful."

  "Worst experience of my life."

  "Was anyone there for you, Devlin?"

  "My parents came down once, but they didn't know Amy; they had never met her. It felt awkward, and I just wanted to be with Amy, so I asked them to go home—same with my brothers and cousins. I knew they wanted to help, but I felt like Amy and her parents and I were in this narrow tunnel, and there wasn't room for anyone else."

  "That sounds kind of lonely, but I guess I understand."

  "Maybe it would have been different if they'd known her, but they'd never met her when she was healthy and after she got sick, she didn’t want to see anyone."

  She nodded, still hating the fact that Devlin had gone through such a tragedy on his own.

  "After I graduated," he continued, "I came here to King Harbor. I worked at the Boatworks, thinking I could find some peace in this place that I loved so much, but after the grief left, I was filled with anger. I drank a lot—way too much. One night, I got into a fight. The bartender called your dad. Frank came and pulled me out of the bar and took me to your house. He knew I couldn't handle dealing with my parents at that moment."

  "That's what he told me when he went to get you, that you were going through a tough time and that you had enough to deal with."