Mistaken Identity (Part 3 Of 5)
Emily White was correct. Bringing her here was a mistake. The three sleek predators in the stern were already circling the tiny brunette, smelling blood in the water. Vince, himself, was disturbed by her presence, wanting to touch her, talk with her. He’d mentioned his mother to her. He never talked about his mother.
Bringing her here was a mistake. Inviting her was a mistake.
Watching that quirky online video was a mistake. After the first viewing, he knew he had to meet the featured artist. The appeal of her unaffected charm and apologetic honesty overwhelmed his normally sound judgment.
His assistant had forwarded the video as a joke. Trudy thought he’d laugh and dismiss her as a prospect. Not for lack of skill, Emily had talent. If she stayed, her painting would hang proudly on his wall, a memento of this week.
What Emily missed was the worldliness he preferred, a sophistication women like the cool Russian beauty Martika or the driven workaholic Viola or the contrived down home Bess had.
Sophisticated women were safe. They readily accepted no strings affairs. They knew when he said he’d never contact them again, he meant it. They didn’t ask him about himself or his mother or wonder why he preferred to live alone. They guarded their personal information so he couldn’t hurt them.
Emily didn’t. Five minutes after meeting her, he knew enough about her hopes and dreams and insecurities to tear her world apart. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He had to send her back home.
“I thought you might like a water, captain.” As if to emphasize that point, Emily was back. She handed a bottle to him, failing this test also. Any woman nice enough to talk to the help was too nice for him.
“Gracias.” He tipped it back and drank. The water was cool and refreshing and pure, a change from the champagnes and the brandies. “Do you not wish to talk to your fellow artists some more, Miss White?” The farther away she was from him, the greater the likelihood she’d return to her small town whole.
“Emily, please.” She patted his arm, the skin against skin contact searing. “They’re busy and I thought you looked lonely up here.”
Vince was not lonely. He liked being alone. He studied her out of the corner of his eyes. The endearing black smudge on her forehead was gone. Her frizzy brown hair blew around her sun-kissed face. She worried her bottom lip with straight, white teeth. It was a very kissable lip, pink and full. Then her entire body vibrated with excitement, her mouth rounded, her eyes widened, she leaned forward.
“Did you see that, Vince?” Emily gripped his bicep. “A dolphin!” She rushed to the bow, her face flushed with excitement. “Everyone, there’s a dolphin.” The creature leapt, keeping pace with the yacht. “A dolphin.” There was wonder in her voice. The others, more worldly than she was, didn’t even glance up.
She didn’t glance away and he couldn’t stop watching her. Everything she felt was laid out to him. One harsh comment and he could squash the happiness on her face.
“I’ve never seen a dolphin before,” she explained unnecessarily when the dolphin’s course finally deviated from theirs. She waited as though for some sort of reply. When he said nothing, she continued “You see them all the time, don’t you? You must think I’m silly.”
He didn’t think her silly. He thought her breathtaking like the unspoiled wilderness. “I’ve never seen a moose before.”
“Haven’t you?” Her face brightened again. “Then you have to come visit me. Dad and I will take you out on the lake some misty morning when we’re sure to see one, munching at the water’s edge. Oh, but,” she bit her bottom lip, “I guess that would be expensive.” She stopped, then sighed. “I wish I was a billionaire.”
“What would you do?” He was curious to hear this.
“I’d fly you up to see a moose for one. You’d like that, Vince. My mom would make you pancakes. She makes the best pancakes. She tops them with real maple syrup.” She beamed. “And I’d bring my mom and dad and sister to see the dolphins here. They’ve never seen dolphins either. You could take me fishing. Not for dolphins though.” She held up a dirty finger. It couldn’t be from the railing. He kept that spotless.
“No, not for dolphins.” He smiled. Again. When was the last time, he smiled so much? “And with the fish I do pursue, I prefer to catch and release.” He would release Emily, throw her back unharmed.
“It is really nice of Mr. Medina to let you use his yacht.” She leaned over the console, her perky butt in the air.
He wanted to wrap his arms around her, drag her back against him. “Mr. Medina is not a nice man, Emily,” he cautioned her.
“He’s going to be upset with me.” She worried that full, pink, kissable lip again between her teeth. “I wish you could be there when I meet him.”
She looked so distressed, he found himself promising, “I’ll be there.”
Drops of sea spray danced upon her lightly tanned skin, tiny mirrors reflecting the light. “You will?”
He couldn’t take back the words, not after she smiled at him like that. “I will.”
