Cape Cod Kisses

  "That's exactly right, Georgette," Quinn said. "And if you're ever not sure, there are other clues everywhere, from the direction the clouds are moving, to the ripples in the water, and other sailboats. Even dust or flags can give you guidance."

  "That's my girl." George rose beside her and kissed her cheek. "Always on her toes."

  Shelley's eyes were soft and warm as she watched the couple be so affectionate with each other. "How long have you been married?"

  "Sometimes it feels like forever," Georgette said with a laugh, "but George worked eighty-hour weeks until two years ago, so we actually didn't get much time together until recently."

  Quinn didn't miss the faltering of Georgette's smile as she talked about being second to George's job. He couldn't help but think about his grandmother and how she hadn't even been second in line for his grandfather's affection, but third.

  "I imagine it's hard to strike a balance," Quinn said to George, the one thought that was hanging heavily on his shoulders after the crappy way he'd behaved last night with Shelley, "but Georgette must have been incredibly understanding if you were as married to your business as you were to her."

  Shelley turned her warm--and approving--eyes to him, and he was glad he'd finally gotten something right. At the same time, he also couldn't help but wonder if Chandler regretted how he'd lived his life, never finding the balance between work and love and fun. And if so, did that feed into his bitterness?

  Realizing he'd gotten lost in his thoughts again, Quinn made himself refocus on what he was supposed to be doing--teaching a sailing lesson.

  "We need to release the boom vang to allow the boom to rise up when the sail is hoisted." Quinn slowed the engine and explained how to hoist the mainsail, carrying out each action as he talked them through the process. "Now we're going to loosen the main sheet, which is the control line that pulls the mainsail in or out, so that wind against the rising sail doesn't cause resistance." He motioned for Shelley and the others to come closer, then pointed to a line sewn into the foot of the mainsail. "See how this piece moves up and down on the groove of the mast? That ensures that you're ready to hoist the mainsail."

  He had to let one of them hoist the mast, and he was a little worried about the older couple doing it. Shelley would not only enjoy the thrill of it, but she was also strong enough to handle the weight. Heck, she was clearly strong enough to handle anything that came her way.

  "Shelley, would you like to hoist the mainsail?"

  Her eyes lit with excitement "Would I ever." But then she hesitated for a moment and addressed the others. "Unless you'd like to do the honors?"

  "Oh, goodness no," Georgette said. "The two of us together couldn't pull that halyard down."

  Quinn was surprised that Georgette knew the nautical term for the rope that raised the sail. As he helped Shelley get into position, he asked the couple, "Have you taken sailing lessons before?"

  "We've taken many, but with George's back, he can no longer hoist, and I'm just happy to have the time with him."

  "What about you, Shelley? Have you done this before?" Quinn asked.

  "I've seen it done plenty of times, but I've never actually done it myself."

  "So you've been on a lot of other sailboats before?"

  She nodded. "With my parents. But they always hired a crew to handle things like hoisting the sails and piloting the boat, even though I always thought getting to chart the course and control the speed seemed like the best part of sailing." When she realized they were all staring at her, her cheeks flushed as though she felt she'd said too much. "Anyway, I'm just happy to finally get a chance to do it now."

  Quinn stared at her for a long moment, his brain rushing to put the pieces of her life together. From what she'd just said, she'd obviously grown up in a wealthy family. Which went a long way to explaining her aversion to learning that he was a Rockwell. He'd met plenty of people like the family she'd described, and it made him want to work even harder to prove to her that he was nothing like them.

  Or am I?

  Because wasn't he always working so hard that he missed out on things like sailing and hanging out with his family...and having a bonfire with Shelley?

  His parents had always made time for each other and for their children. His father sailed frequently and his mother blew glass, and they still went out on dates every week and kissed each other like newlyweds even though they'd been married forever. Whereas, on the opposite end of the spectrum, his grandfather had never made time for his grandmother.

  And one thing Quinn knew with absolute certainty was that he did not want to become Chandler.

  The mast hitting his arm brought him back to the present. He reached around Shelley and placed her hands on the rope. "You want to hold it like this."

  Shelley hoisted the sail like a pro, then grinned at Quinn. "That was such a rush!"

  "You did it perfectly. See how the mainsail is fluttering? That's called luffing."

  He wrapped the mainsheet around the winch and cranked it until the mainsail stopped luffing. Then he led them to the cockpit and took the helm. Once settled, he placed Shelley's hand on the helm and asked her to hold her steady while he deployed the jib. She handled the helm like she'd done it a million times--with a sexy confidence that was Shelley through and through--and he knew she must have spent a lot of time watching the crew work while she was on the boats, not just sunbathing on the deck.

  "You did a fine job, Shelley," George said. "Maybe one day you'll be able to convince your parents to do more things so they don't miss out like we did." He pulled Georgette into an embrace. "And, Quinn, you're right. I'm a darn lucky man, and my Georgette is probably the only woman who would put up with someone like me."

  "Oh, George. That's not true. Remember the way Patricia used to chase you?"

  While Georgette and George debated his admirer, Quinn focused on Shelley. He wanted to know more about her, and to apologize about a million more times until she knew exactly how bad he felt. But since this wasn't the time or the place to discuss their relationship, in front of two strangers, for now he simply reached up to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear and ask, "Where are you from?"

  Her lips parted, and he heard her breath hitch as if his touch affected her more than she knew how to handle. Lord knew, he felt exactly the same way--he could barely keep his hands off her.

  Finally, she replied, "Greenwich is where I grew up, but I spent a lot of my youth traveling with my family to Africa, Europe, Asia."

  From most people, that might have sounded like they were bragging. But Shelley sounded more wistful than anything, and given how much she loved the small-town feel of the island, he thought he knew why. "It must have been hard not having a home base as a kid."

  She looked at him in surprise, as if she hadn't expected him to have such insight into her emotions. Probably because he'd been such a jerk the night before. "It was. And I'm not complaining, but honestly, as a kid I wanted a more normal life."

  "I've never been to Africa, but it's on my bucket list," Georgette said.

  Quinn hadn't realized Georgette and George had tuned back into his conversation with Shelley.

  "We'll get there, honey," George assured her.

  "What's on your bucket list, Shelley?" Georgette asked.

  She looked relieved to have the subject diverted from her childhood. "My bucket list? Not traveling to faraway places visiting diamond mines, that's for sure."

  Diamond mines?

  Wait a minute. Is Shelley one of those Walters?

  Walters Enterprises was the most notable of the diamond empires, and if she was related to them, then all of Shelley's aversions to money and overworking all suddenly made perfect sense. Clarence Walters was a starch conservative. He was in all of the high-society pages, but Quinn didn't recall ever reading about his daughter.

  Quinn remembered what she'd said about working through college and using the money she'd saved to buy her house. Just as he'd left the island to avoid the
family business and strike out in search of bigger, better things, she'd struck out on her own.

  Their similarities ran much deeper than he could have ever imagined.

  "I think it would be fun to learn to skip rocks," she said. "To paint something that doesn't look like it was made by a five-year-old. To sing with a choir even though I can barely hold a tune. And I would love to spend the night in a tree house. A real tree house, not one of those mini-mansions people sometimes build in their backyards. It's been my dream ever since I was a little girl."

  As Quinn listened, he realized that Shelley took nothing for granted, not even the simplest things. He felt as if he were getting a glimpse inside her heart.

  When she caught him looking at her, renewed guilt from last night settled on his shoulders. How many times had she been cast aside by her parents as they worked?

  Never again, Shelley, he silently promised her. Never again.

  He'd been right last night when he'd thought Shelley deserved a better man than him--but he'd been wrong to consider, for even five seconds, walking away. He would become that better man, damn it.

  For both of them.

  During the rest of the sail, George and Georgette happily told them stories of their youth and shared the joy they took in their grandchildren. Shelley didn't offer any more insight into her family, but Quinn already felt like he knew her a thousand times better than he had before they'd set sail.

  Back at the dock, Georgette asked Quinn to take their picture, which he was more than happy to do. Then Quinn took out his phone and asked her to take one of him and Shelley.

  "Why don't you put your arm around Shelley and pull her in real close so I can fit you both in the picture," Georgette suggested.

  Quinn was sure Shelley knew what Georgette was up to, but she smiled up at him as she wrapped one arm around his waist and settled the other on his stomach. Desire ripped through him at the same instant that he felt her breath go, her eyes widening as she looked into his. So beautiful, Shelley. You're so damn beautiful and sweet. Her skin flushed as if she could read his mind.

  Georgette took several pictures of them before she and George went on their way, leaving Quinn and Shelley alone.

  He reached for Shelley's hand as he helped her off the boat, and didn't let go of it as he said, "I'm really glad you came out for a sail with me today."

  "I am, too." She looked down at their linked hands, then back up into his eyes. "It was fun, Quinn. Really fun."

  "I was thinking of taking one of my boats out tonight. Would you like to come with me? I promise I won't take any work calls."

  "It's a leftover hurt from my childhood. I thought I was over it, but now I know I'm not, because it still really stings."

  With his free hand, he brushed her hair from her shoulder and cupped the back of her neck. "You shouldn't need to be over it. I screwed up in a major way, and you're right to be upset with me. But I'm going to try my damnedest to never do anything that stings again. At least," he added as he drew her closer, "not in a bad way."

  He wanted so badly to kiss her, but he didn't know if he'd earned back that right yet. "Can I kiss you again, Shelley?"

  She looked surprised by his question for a moment, but that expression quickly shifted into a smile that told him she was glad he'd asked if he could kiss her instead of simply assuming that she was ready to resume things from where they'd left off last night before he'd blown it.

  Instead of answering him with words, she went onto her toes and pressed her lips to his in a sensual kiss that sent need rushing through him. A kiss that he wished could have gone on forever.

  But knowing he hadn't earned forever yet, he made himself draw back and ask again, "Will you come sailing with me again tonight?"

  "Yes," she finally said. "I'd love to."

  Chapter Twelve

  BILLY'S BY THE Bay was a small seafood cafe located a few miles away from the resort. Shelley and Sierra had just ordered iced tea and salads on the patio beneath a vibrant red umbrella, but Shelley's mind was still tangled in thoughts of Quinn and the magnificent kiss they'd shared on the sailboat after the lesson. They'd agreed to meet later that evening for a moonlit boat ride, and even though she was still more than a little wary of being hurt again, she also couldn't deny that she was excited to see him again.

  One more chance.

  It was a risk, given his obvious workaholic tendencies, but there were so many great things about Quinn--he was sweet and sexy, smart and funny, and utterly devoted to his family--that made it impossible for Shelley to turn away from him just yet. Not without giving him one more chance to get things right.

  "The wind really kicked up this afternoon. Was it this bad when you were sailing?" Sierra gathered her hair over one shoulder and held it tight so that it wouldn't blow all over the place.

  Shelley fished around in her purse. "Fortunately it was pretty calm. I know I have a couple elastic bands in here somewhere." She pulled one out and handed it to Sierra, who made quick work of tying back her hair.

  "This is why I need sisters," Sierra said. "My brothers would probably take out a piece of rope and try to tie my hair back with some fancy boating knot. Ethan must know a thousand different knots, actually."

  Shelley laughed as she also pulled her hair into a ponytail. "Well, I wouldn't mind having a sister or a brother. I'd take someone caring enough to tie rope in my hair any day over being cared for by nannies and dragged around like luggage."

  She was so comfortable with Sierra already that the words came before she could stop them. She thought about when she'd accidentally mentioned diamond mines on the boat with Quinn and how she'd seen him mentally putting the pieces of her childhood together. He obviously hadn't mentioned it to Sierra, though, and she was glad he thought enough of her not to share it, to give her the chance to do so at her own pace.

  "That couldn't have been fun."

  Shelley tried to shrug it off. "It wasn't that bad, just not the same as having a houseful of other kids to play with and parents who were actually around instead of working all the time."

  "I thank God every day for my parents. They're so down-to-earth and real. It's always driven my grandfather crazy that none of us play up our surname." Sierra sipped her iced tea. "I probably shouldn't share family secrets, but I feel like I've known you forever for some reason."

  "Don't worry. I promise your family secrets are safe with me. And I feel the exact same way about you." Shelley felt so lucky that she had connected with Sierra. Her parents' lifestyle was so different from what most people had been exposed to that she was really glad for the kinship. "Your mom seems really nice. Everyone here does, actually. It's one of the first things I noticed when I landed on the island. Any town that has a brag wall is officially fabulous."

  "Eleanor is so cute, isn't she?" Sierra agreed. "She's absolutely the perfect person to run the visitors' center."

  "Did you know she has pictures of your brothers from when they were teenagers up on the board?"

  "Everyone loves my brothers. Of course, what everyone else doesn't see is what it's like to be their sister. They can be a little overbearing to me sometimes, particularly Trent, Quinn, and Derek, but I try to remind myself that they're only doing what they think is best. And beneath their workaholic sides, they're fun. Especially Quinn. Back when we were kids, at least, he was always the one coming up with crazy plans for all of us."

  "I'm not surprised," Shelley said. And she truly wasn't, because she'd seen for herself how much fun he could be.

  "Really? You're not surprised to hear that he can be fun?"

  Shelley smiled as she told Sierra, "We went clamming yesterday, and then of course he taught the sailing lesson today, which was great."

  "Wait." Sierra pressed her palms to the table. "You got Quinn to go clamming? Like dig in the mud clamming?"

  "He's the one who suggested it, actually. I had no idea how to clam, but I had a blast." She purposefully left out the part where she'd been rolling a
round on the sand making out with Quinn, of course.

  Sierra's brows knitted together as she leaned back and crossed her legs, her long cotton skirt waving in the breeze. "Shelley, Shelley, Shelley..."

  "What?"

  "Nothing."

  But the mischief in Sierra's dark eyes told Shelley there was a lot of something in that nothing.

  On the one hand, Shelley loved knowing that Quinn was different around her than he'd been with other women...but on the other hand, she was also worried about how fast her feelings for him had already grown.

  Her mind drifted back to the horrible feelings of the night before, when he'd taken the phone call and ignored her. Then she quickly fast-forwarded to the flowers he'd left on her porch and the deep regret in his eyes when he'd apologized--many times over.

  Yet again she tried to convince herself that she still needed to be careful, but she couldn't shake the feeling that they not only generated a shocking amount of heat and passion together, but that they'd also been opening their hearts to each other since day one. And along with opening their hearts came learning, growing, and even sometimes experiencing old wounds as they set boundaries on what was okay and what wasn't.

  Wasn't that part of every relationship--at least the ones that lasted?

  "Anyway, like I was saying before we started talking about Quinn," Sierra said, as if she could tell that Shelley had grown slightly uncomfortable, "of all my brothers, Ethan's probably the most easygoing. But I think that's because he's the youngest and none of us gave him much of a chance to chime in--we were all such loudmouths. Then again, maybe he just plays that card because women always go gaga for the strong and silent type." Sierra laughed. "There I go, spilling more family tales. You need to act bitchy or something so I stop talking."

  "I don't think I'm very good at being bitchy. But chatty? I could do that all day long. All night, too." Although, she didn't want to take up too much of Sierra's time, so she said, "When I met your mom at Annabelle's, she said that you thought an organic coffee shop would do really well here. Do you agree?"

  "Oh my goodness, yes! Starbucks tried to come onto the island, but our civic association nixed that. We're really into keeping things local. Otherwise Rockwell Island might become nothing more than an extension of any big city out there."