Her Faux Fiancé (11 page)

A sudden gust of wind snapped the sail to the other side. If he hadn’t ducked, he’d have been knocked overboard by the boom. Analise sat up, grabbing for the mast as the boat heeled over.

“Everything all right?” she called out.

Erik glanced at the sky. A menacing black cloud loomed on the horizon, growing larger each second he stared at it. “I think that storm your granddad mentioned might be coming in. Can you take the helm while I get the engine started and pull the sails down?”

“You don’t think it’ll just pass over?” She sheltered her eyes with one hand while holding the mast with the other.

“I’m not going to take the chance. We’ll head back to the harbour. We can always shelter at Arnes if it hits before we get back to Gimli.”

As she reached over to grab her shirt and shorts the boat lurched again, causing the clothes to fall into the water. Analise would have tumbled in herself if she hadn’t grabbed on to one of the stays securing the mast.

“Are you okay?” His heart leapt into his throat as she scrambled back to the cockpit, holding the guardrail rope as she went.

“Fine. Be careful,” she cautioned, as he leaned over the back and the boat lurched again. She held the tiller with both hands as he pulled on the starter cord for the engine. After several stutters, the little motor roared to life.

“Okay, try to hold her bow into the wind while I wrap the sails.”

Erik secured the boat and returned to take the helm. Clouds now masked the sun, and with only her bikini on, she shivered. He pulled off his shirt and handed it to her.

“The storm is coming real fast. Do you think we’ll make it back in time?”

He reached out and turned the little motor up to its highest speed. “We might catch the edge of it, but I think we’ll be safely in harbour before the real force hits. I’m sorry; I should have been keeping a better eye on the sky, especially after your granddad’s warning.”

“Well, I’m not made of sugar, so I won’t melt. Actually, I’m impressed you’re heading for shore at all. Jean-Claude would have wanted to test his strength against the power of Mother Nature.” Her gaze swept once more over his chest before refocusing on the darkened horizon.

“I’ll say it again: I’m not your former fiancé. I will never take a chance with your life.”

“What about my heart?” The words were spoken so low, and with the frantic flapping of the sail edge in the wind, he wasn’t sure she’d actually spoken. Not until her pain-filled eyes met his.

“Come, sit beside me.” She sat stiffly next to him on the fiberglass bench, and he wrapped his free arm around her shoulders. “Analise, I know we have an unresolved relationship, and I will admit that seeing you again has brought all those feelings back. But we’re different people now. I’m not sure I can offer you a future that you want. And as much as I crave your body, I realize that you’ve been through a very difficult few months. I don’t want you to confuse blinding passion with a promise I can’t make.”

“You’re right, I know. My life has changed so much in the past six weeks that I don’t even know who I am anymore.” She collapsed against him like a puppet whose strings had suddenly been released.

“You’re Analise Thordarson, beloved granddaughter, fabulous woman, wonderful photographer, and current fake fiancée of one pig-headed, self-centered, carnally obsessed lawyer.”

A small smile creased her full lips. “Have you ever wondered how our lives would have been different if Karen hadn’t … ” The smile disappeared.

He tucked her closer against his chest as a shudder wracked her body. “Every day.”

• • •

Analise was soaked through, and although she was doing her very best to hold back the shivers, her body shook like she was holding a live power line. Huddled in the cabin, wearing her bikini and Erik’s t-shirt, she found an old towel wedged between the seat cushions and wrapped it around her legs.

At least she didn’t have to worry about disposing of the cheap cell phone she’d bought with her granddad the day before. It had been in the pocket of the shorts that had gone overboard. She’d texted the coordinates for a meeting while Erik had been getting the boat ready. Now, she wished she could discuss it with Erik, but the voice on the phone had warned her to tell no one. If she told Erik, he’d insist on coming with her. Then, the person she was to meet might not approach if she weren’t alone.
Merde,
what a mess.

Through the cabin doorway she could see Erik tying the line at the rear of the boat to the dock. Rain poured off his naked back, and his shorts were plastered to his ass, emphasizing the curve of his butt. A flicker of warmth flowed through her. Make that a surge of heat. As she watched, he ran his hand over his face to clear it of water before glancing in the direction of the car park. A second later, he joined her in the cabin. The tiny space filled with large, hard man.
Mon Dieu.

“I’ve got some bad news,” he said. He picked up the Plexiglas section that formed part of the entranceway and slid it into place. He popped the lower bit of the door in as well, leaving a one-foot gap for airflow. At least it stopped the wind from howling in their ears.

“What?” she managed to get out between clenched teeth, trying to stop them from chattering.

“I forgot to put the roof up on the BMW, so the car is soaked as well. We can either huddle in here until the rain stops or sit in the wet car. At least I can put the heater on in there.”

Through the tiny window, she could see the rain coming down almost sideways. The deafening clanging of ropes slapping against the bare masts of all the sailboats in the harbour added to the tension. Make a mad dash through the weather to sit in a sodden car, or huddle where they were in the relative dry? “I don’t think this will last for long. I vote for staying here.” At least in the boat they were private and didn’t have to scramble to the car with everyone watching.

“I agree. You’re freezing, though. This is going to sound really self-serving, but if you take off my shirt and we huddle together, our combined body heat should warm you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him but pulled off the soaked shirt, shuddering as the cool air hit her bare skin. Erik stretched out on the long bench that ran under the cockpit, then gestured for her to join him. Skin-on-skin contact soon made her worry less about the cold and more about spontaneous combustion.

Erik had said he wouldn’t push her into a physical relationship, yet, at the moment, she couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea. She wasn’t the type of person who jumped into bed with people she’d just met. In fact, she’d known Jean-Claude for almost a year before they’d become intimate. However, she’d known Erik for ten years; it wasn’t as if they were strangers.

“Feeling warmer?”

How easy it would be to press a kiss against his chest and then work her way up to his lips. She could feel his arousal against her stomach, so she knew the same lusty thoughts were racing through Erik. His hot breath in her ear melted the last of her willpower. Damn the future, and the past for that matter, for once she was going to seize the day.

As she ran her lips over his collarbone, she heard a loud voice call Erik’s name and footsteps on the dock approach the boat. She scurried out of Erik’s arms and huddled on the seat across from him. Raising her legs to her chest she wrapped her arms around them.

Erik swore under his breath and sat upright, putting the discarded towel across his lap. “In here, Brent,” he called out.

Brent’s face appeared in the small gap between the bottom portion of the door and the roof. “I thought I’d come down to check on you. Saw the lake forming in your car and then the boat moored up. When I spoke with Tracy a few minutes ago, she reminded me that she’d taken all the towels and blankets out of the boat for washing. Sorry, I told you it was fully loaded and you didn’t need anything.”

“We were waiting for the rain to die down a bit before we made a run for the car. If you’re here now, maybe you could give us a ride somewhere warm.”

“No problem. I’m done for the day. I’ll give Tracy a call and let her know I’ll be bringing a couple of soaked sailors home with me. Should I ask where your clothes are or keep my mouth shut?”

“I suggest keeping your mouth shut,” Erik replied.

He picked up his t-shirt and wrung out the water before handing it to Analise again. The wet fabric clung to her skin, chilling her after the warmth of Erik’s embrace. Being held by him was becoming addictive. If she wanted to learn to stand on her own, she’d better find an antidote, and quickly.

“So,
Afi
. What do you want to do first?” Analise looked around Gimli’s packed harbour area. Three days ago, it had been a scene of quiet tranquility—boats bobbing in the water, a few fishermen on the dock, purple martins darting overhead eating masses of mosquitoes. Today, hordes of people were milling about, looking at display tables, lining up for a taste of local dishes, or waiting for the next installment of entertainment to come on stage.

“I come to
Islendingadagurinn
every year, sweet. You lead the way,” he said.

Icelandic Festival days were the biggest thing to happen to the small town each year, a long weekend when the local population celebrated their heritage or just partied it up as small towns did when the carnival arrived.

“Let’s grab some
pönnukökur
first, then look at the crafts.” Analise walked over to a table where the little rolled-up pancakes filled with sugar were displayed.

The lady behind the table greeted them as they approached. “Hello, Gunnar, how are you? This must be your granddaughter.” She was dressed in the traditional Icelandic costume of a long, black dress with a white apron and white hat edged in lace.

“Morning, Inge. Yes, this is Analise. We’ll take a half dozen of the
pönnukökur
, please.”

“With pleasure. Can we hope you’re back home for good now, Analise?” Inge wrapped the treats in napkins before putting them in a white paper bag.

“I’m not sure,” Analise replied.

“Well, it would be lovely if you stayed with your
afi
. We could use more young people around here.”

Analise looked around curiously at the young people and families milling about.

“Most of these are from the city or are just here for the summer,” Inge continued. “I hear you’re engaged to Erik Sigurdson. I know his family would love for him to move back as well.”

Ah, the joys of small towns.

“We’re talking about it, but we can’t make any promises. We both have careers far from here.” Her stomach clenched. But she wasn’t sure if it was because of the lie or the disappointment the town would feel when she and Erik broke off their fake engagement. If she’d given Jean-Claude back his ring, no one in the world would have cared.

“I heard you were a great photographer. Your
amma
used to show me some of your work. Are you taking photos today for the festival committee?” Inge’s voice brought Analise back to the present.

Out of habit, she reached for her camera, which dangled at her side. “No, only for personal use. Thanks for the
pönnukökur
, Inge. May I take your photo before I go?”

“Of course, anything for Gunnar’s family.”

Analise snapped a photo of Inge surrounded by the tasty delights. She’d get her granddad to pass on a copy to the friendly woman. They wandered past several crafts tables. She occasionally stopped to admire a particular piece of artwork or ask a question. Almost everyone knew Gunnar and exchanged greetings with him, encouraging her to move back to Akureyri with Erik. Rather than consider it prying, she took the interest in her future as friendly concern and a sincere desire to have her live in the area again.

From the craft tables they made their way over to the beach area. The waves lapped at the sand in a hushed murmur, so different from the crashing tumult that had ended her day of sailing with Erik during the week. Still, soaking aside, it had been about as close to a perfect day as she could remember.

Her thigh didn’t hurt anymore, unless she bumped it. And her spirit was healing, too. She woke each morning, eager for the day. When was the last time that had happened?

Yesterday, Erik had been conscripted into taking his mother and grandmother into Winnipeg for a little shopping. Analise had spent the day trying not to think about how much she missed being with him. The physical attraction was becoming something more, and it frightened her.

“Analise!”

She turned at the sound of her name being called. Brent and his children were playing in the sand, attempting a sandcastle. Further along the beach, professionally created, massive sand structures were being judged. The children’s handiwork might not have been as impressive, but just as much determination was going into its production. Analise snapped a few pictures after getting Brent’s permission. She loved the grainy texture of the sand on the children’s small, soft hands—it would make a great black-and-white photograph.

“Where’s Erik?” Brent looked around, as if expecting to see him appear any minute.

“He’s helping his mother and grandparents set up for the big party tomorrow. He’ll meet me here later,” she replied. It was disconcerting how everyone expected the two of them to be joined at the hip, probably literally more than figuratively.

“Daddy, we need more water; the sand won’t stick.” Brent’s little boy, Nathan, tugged on his father’s arm.

“We’ll let you get on with your masterpiece,” she said. “I hope you win the competition,” she called out as the small child poured the water over the pile of sand his sister had erected, destroying the structure. A wail went up that could probably be heard in Akureyri. Analise left Brent to sort out his domestic dispute.

After wandering around the sand sculptures, they returned to the stage area where students were reciting Icelandic stories. Gunnar sat and closed his eyes, a look of contentment on his face. Even after all these years living in Canada, speaking English, it must have felt like home to hear his native language spoken, even if by amateurs.

Her father, when he was around during her first fifteen years in France, spoke French, and her mother spoke only English. Yet it was hearing Icelandic, the language that her grandparents had used when they didn’t think she was listening, that made her feel at home. She’d never learned it beyond a few basic expressions, but it always soothed her soul. Probably because she associated the language with love.