Yours to Savor (8 page)

She must have gaped just a little, because Brandon chuckled beside her.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never seen a ‘boat’ before?” he teased.

“No, it’s just—”

“Ah, never
been
on one before?”

“I have, just not—”

“On one so magnificent?” A playful smile formed on his lips. Sandra ground her teeth. “I thought you’d like it.”

He led her up the gangplank and onto the vessel. When Sandra saw what the deck looked like, she was again speechless.

The yacht was replete with splendor. The aft deck, where she stood, housed a lacquered cherry table in front of a leather settee. Unlit candles stood in deep glass bowls on the table, and both the floor and ceiling tiles gleamed in the fading sunlight. An American flag hung from a pole off the stern of the boat.

Sliding glass doors offered a clean view into the salon. Two white leather sofas stretched along the walls of the room. In the middle stood an impressive oak table. Two bottles of champagne sat in an ice bucket atop it, and drops of condensation trickling down their sleek glass sides. White granite countertops decorated the bar at the end of the room, complete with matching cabinetry.

“What is all this?” Sandra asked, motioning at the champagne, the candles.

“This?” Brandon mused. “It’s for later. Come, I have to show you the upper helm.”

Sandra followed him up the curving stairs to the fly bridge, which was just as spectacular as the rest of the boat. Dual captain’s chairs stood on an elevated platform, and the open space offered a panoramic view of the ocean before them. Brandon stepped beside the controls, fiddled with some of the switches. Immediately, the low hum of the engine became much louder. The boat began to move smoothly into the water.

Sandra came to stand beside Brandon at the helm as they cruised out. “Where are you taking me?”

“There’s a spot you need to see,” he explained, “farther out.”

“You know the area? I thought you just arrived?”

He smiled. “What gave you that impression?”

“I’ve never seen you around town before.”

“That hardly means I’m a stranger.”

“In a town of five thousand people, it does.”

“Hmm.” He smiled. “And you, Sandra? You’ve got a hint of an accent. I take it you’re not from around Washington, either?”

“Very
perceptive
,” she mimicked, copying his phrase from before. Yet she was impressed. “Not many people pick up on that anymore.”

“Let me guess,” he said. “…you’re from the Midwest?”

Sandra lifted an eyebrow in surprise.

“I’m right, aren’t I? Somewhere around… Illinois?”

“Wow. Yes. Chicago. How did you know?”

“You have a hint of an Upper Midwest accent. I can tell from the way you stretch your vowels.”

“That’s pretty impressive.”

Brandon smiled. “Only because I got it right.”

She considered that for a moment. “If you got it wrong…”

“You’d have called me out for trying a pull a cheap parlor trick on you.” He winked.

Sandra had to admit, he was right. Not many people could be as unguarded as Brandon seemed. She was finding that she liked Brandon the
person
—as opposed to Brandon the
body
—a whole lot more than she would have thought this morning.

“You want to steer?” he asked, breaking Sandra from her contemplations.

“Me? No.” Sandra shook her head. “No, I couldn’t possibly.” The last time she’d had her hands on a wheel, her car had broken down in the middle of the street, seconds after she’d nearly run over a stray cat. The last time she’d steered anything, in fact, was when she drove herself to Ocean Shores. That entire drive had been an ordeal from hell.

“Come on,” Brandon urged. “It’s easy. You just put your hands here…”

Sandra squeaked as Brandon caught her by the waist and pulled her toward him. He was so
strong
that she couldn’t have resisted even if she had wanted to. His hands enveloped hers, and directed them to the steering wheel. The boat lurched forward suddenly, and Sandra gasped, but Brandon only laughed. She saw that he’d pushed the accelerator forward at the same time.

“It’s like this,” he explained. Sandra’s heart was racing. She took a deep breath to steady her rattling nerves—not helped by having Brandon’s arms around her, his pelvis pressed against her hips, his chest against her back, and his hot breath on her ear—and focused on steering the boat as he directed, and
not
on the enthralling man so close to her.

But when she relaxed, and let herself go… she found herself directing the yacht through the pristine spring evening with ease. She felt an unexpected rush at controlling the enormous vessel. As Sandra steered, Brandon poked fun of her technique, and she jabbed back at him just as hard. Brandon had a quick wit, just to her liking, and a good head on his shoulders… when he didn’t let it get too big for his own good. It wasn’t long before they were laughing and flirting, leaving the shores of the mainland behind. Soon after setting out, Sandra spotted an uninhabited island hidden behind a curve of the land. It was rife with evergreens growing above breathtaking cliffs that the surf crashed against. As island grew larger, the sky began to darken overhead, carrying the day toward twilight.

When they were less than a hundred feet from the island’s shore, Brandon shut the engine off and let the lapping waves carry them forward. He stepped to the railing and looked out over the water. Sandra came up beside him. The view was incredible. From this close she could hear the gulls crying out as they circled above the island’s rocky cliffs.

Brandon turned to her. “Are you comfortable with yourself, Miss…?”

“Hawthorne,” she told him.

“Hawthorne? With relation to the writer?”

“No,” she admitted, “but I wouldn’t have thought you’d pick that up.”

“Is that right?” He smiled. “I think you’ll see, Miss Hawthorne, that people can be full of surprises. For example, I’m much less crude than you seem to have made me out to be.”

“I’m starting to understand that.”

Brandon smiled. “Come down with me?” Without waiting for a reply, he started down the curving steps to the lower deck. Sandra followed him, placing her feet carefully as the boat rocked on the tide. She followed Brandon into the salon. He stepped behind the bar and bent down, emerging with two champagne flutes. “If you’ll be so kind?”

“Oh!” She turned around, reached for one of the champagne bottles, pulled it out of the ice bath by the neck, and glanced at the label. It wasn’t some pedestrian sparkling wine, but a vintage of 1995 Krug Clos d’Ambonnay. It was some of the most expensive champagne available. She recognized it because her dad had been an ardent collector of fine wines and liquors, and kept a cabinet full of the best brands at home. “You know, you didn’t have to do all this—”

“I wanted to.” She was interrupted by the feeling of Brandon’s arms wrapping around her. His hard body pressed against her back, and she could feel his warmth radiating through her sweater. His scent filled her lungs—that clean, masculine aroma tinged with a hint of salty air. She stiffened at the sudden intimate contact, made without the pretense of teaching her to steer, but Brandon did not flinch and smoothly exchanged the champagne bottle in her hands with the two flutes.

“Now,” he whispered, stepping away, “hold them out for me.”

Sandra did as she was told, and felt an unexpected sensation of loss as Brandon’s body parted from hers. With a twist and pull, the bottle came open. Sandra held the flutes in unsteady hands as Brandon poured the rose-gold liquid.

They returned to the railing and toasted before taking their first sips. The sun was close to setting now, and the golden glow from its last rays made the atmosphere between them electrifying. The champagne was absolutely decadent. Sandra sighed as the sweet, fizzy liquid trailed down her throat.

“You like it, I take it?” he asked.

“It’s not every day you get to have Clos d’Ambonnay.”

Brandon blinked. “I’m surprised you know it.”

“Is that another compliment?” Sandra offered a wry smile. “Better watch out before it becomes a habit.”

He laughed. “It’s a good vintage. Apparently, Champagne experienced the hottest August since the sixties that year. It made for a difficult year for pinot noir grapes, yet Krug still managed to produce such an extravagant wine.” Brandon brought it to his nose and inhaled. “You can smell the minerals and honeycomb, flowers and Asian spices. And when you put it to your lips…” he took a small sip, “you can’t help but appreciate the firm structure, the hint of ginger and grilled nuts.”

“I didn’t know you knew so much about wines.”

“It helps when the person you’re with can appreciate what you say.” He smiled. “Like I told you before, I’m much less crude than you think.”

Another sip and Sandra could already feel herself loosening up. It was quiet on the boat. Peaceful. The sound of the surf, the distant cries of the gulls, and the pleasant evening air all filled her senses.

“So,” Brandon asked, “how does someone like you go two years without having a date?” He was all serious now. The playful, teasing vibe from before was gone, replaced by an intimate, sincere interest
.
“Unless it’s something you don’t want to talk about.”

“I’m not scared to talk about my past.”
Except for one thing,
she thought. “My last boyfriend… kind of turned me off guys for a while.”

Brandon lifted a curious eyebrow.

“Not like that!” she exclaimed. “It’s just that… well, it’s a long story.”

“Tell me.”

Chapter Five

Sandra took a deep breath. Maybe it was the champagne, maybe it was the atmosphere. No matter what it was, she felt like Brandon was genuinely
interested
in what she had to say.

“I moved in with him after college,” she began. “My parents loved him. His name was Henry. We met in school. I was doing my undergrad; he was doing his masters.”

“Go on,” Brandon prompted, eyes sincere.

Something about his manner made Sandra feel that she could trust him. Not in everything, of course—not so quickly—but something told her he was mature enough to respect what she told him. She owed it to herself to tell the truth. She hadn’t spoken to anyone about her ex after leaving him—hadn’t felt she could
trust
anyone enough for that—but with Brandon, things were different.

It was strange. Brandon was unlike any man she’d ever known. He obviously had an irreverent side to him, but here he was, being sweet and tender. It was a far cry to the
mocking
Brandon she’d met that morning.

“Actually, he was more than just my boyfriend,” Sandra admitted. “We were engaged.”

Brandon’s eyes widened in surprise, and then instantly narrowed, as if he wanted to fire a million questions at her. He posed only one. “He asked you to marry him?”

“Yes. He proposed just before graduation. We had been dating for a year, then, and we were both in the final year of our programs.”

“But now you’re here… single…” Brandon stepped closer, leaning against the railing beside her so their upper arms touched. His voice became deep and penetrating. “What went wrong?”