Jeez, chirpy as a seagull with a hot chip. ‘You’re pretty good at a lot of things nautical.’
‘I lived on-board a cruiser until I went to high school.’
He forgot his reluctance to look her in the eye and stared at her. ‘Yeah?’
She laughed, a joyous sound, her face aglow even in the grey night. ‘It was a large cruiser. I was an only child and my parents home-schooled me while we travelled the world. They called it a living education.’
‘A fair description, I suppose.’
‘Yes.’ She pushed back her hood and smoothed her hair from her face and he realised the wind had lessened. ‘But when I reached secondary-school age and my mum’s sister was diagnosed with cancer, they sold the cruiser and bought a property out of Hobart to be near her.’ She chuckled. ‘High school was a learning curve for me; I’d never been around kids my own age before.’
She’d learned to be content with her own company. A bit like him, in a random kind of way. His gaze lifted and he saw a break in the clouds—he’d been so preoccupied he’d not noticed. ‘When did your mother pass away?’
‘Eighteen months ago.’
‘What about your dad, does—?’
‘I haven’t seen or heard from him in years. He walked out on us when Mum got sick the first time.’ She spoke without the emotion he read in her eyes, the dip he saw in her shoulders. ‘She was in remission when we bought Chasing Dawn together. We had hope then, that she’d make it, and we set up Snowflake, but her condition deteriorated sooner than we expected.’
‘You mentioned your aunt. Did she...?’
‘Breast cancer runs in my family. My grandmother, my cousin, and great-grandmother too, they suspect.’ She spoke matter-of-factly, her eyes on middle distance. Avoiding his.
He frowned. The familial link to the disease would surely be a concern for her, but she didn’t elaborate and he didn’t want to broach a delicate subject. ‘Why a pink snowflake?’
‘When individual ice crystals bump into others they grow into the stunning and unique shape of a snowflake. We think of ourselves as those individuals working together to create something worthwhile and beautiful. Pink because it’s raising awareness for women’s cancers.’
He looked up at the sky where a few stars peeked through and thought about what she’d said. How she’d turned something bad into something good. ‘That’s pretty special.’ He admired her for it. It also made him question his own life’s contributions—pretty damn ordinary.
‘I like to think so,’ she said on a note of cheer. ‘Thank you again for sailing with us and helping make a difference.’
‘I’ve not done much.’ Except chuck all over your lovingly polished deck.
‘Oh, but you have,’ she reassured him with abundant enthusiasm. ‘You’ve drawn attention to our foundation just by being here. I expect a huge influx of donations and sponsorships.’ Her grin was full of fun. ‘You can keep the T-shirt and cap as a thank-you.’
She turned to him at the same time he turned to look at her. She was sharing the humour, her eyes sparkling in the night’s soft grey light, her bound hair coming adrift from its plait, tendrils spiralling behind her into the wind.
And there it was again. That flare of attraction. Hot, bright, bewitching. Reciprocated.
Despite his roiling stomach, lust smouldered along his veins. With her torso covered in a padded jacket, Jett’s focus narrowed to her smiling lips—lusciously plump and unglossed.
They were still smiling when she said, ‘Your support means a lot to Brie too when clearly sailing’s not your thing.’
Nothing like mention of his sister and seasickness to douse the lust sparks. He raked fingers over his skull, discovered his hands were disgustingly shaky, like his gut. What the hell had he been thinking, telling her they were going to finish...whatever this thing was between them? He’d be lucky to get past the starting line. She valued commitment, loyalty. Stickability. Her focus and her priority were with other people.
He was a travelling one-man show.
She’d been trouble from that first glimpse. Trouble from that first kiss. Trouble from that first glide of his hand over silken female flesh.
Trouble.
So why the hell was he hung up on her?
‘Leave you to it,’ he muttered, pushing up and listing to one side as the boat pitched and rolled.
‘Jett. Caref—’
‘I’m f—’ His stomach revolted and he waved her away, hauled himself to the railing and retched pitifully over the side.
Humiliation complete.