Getting Lucky

Chapter 7

Zach's schedule smacked up against the Washing-ton state ferry system in Anacortes several hours later and promptly came out the loser. He stared at the ticket seller incredulously. "A three-hour wait?"

"Yes, sir. Three hours and thirty-five minutes, to be precise."

"You're kidding me, right?"

"No." The man in the booth gave him a slight smile. "You're not from around here, I'm guessing."

"No."

"Well, sir, we're still operating on the non-peak season schedule, so this isn't unusual. You just missed a boat to Orcas Island, and the next one to stop there is the lllahee , so I'm afraid you won't make that either, because it only has a seventy-five car capacity and there are more than that already ahead of you."

"Those cars can't all be going to Orcas."

"No, sir. Many of them are going to Lopez and Shaw. Orcas is the third stop on the San Juan route, although not every boat stops at each island." The man shrugged.

"In any case, the next superclass boat will be here in three hours and"—he consulted the clock over his head—"thirty-four—nope, make that thirty- three — minutes." He passed the ticket out the window along with a schedule. "You'll want lane five "

Zach had to swallow the urge to curse a blue streak. But the man clearly wasn't high on the chair; of command, and Zach's eighteen years in the service had taught him not to take out his frustrations on someone who has no control over the circumstances. Thanking the man for his time, he accepted the ferry ticket and pulled away from the booth.

He knew better than to take the delay personally anyway, but it had been a long, tense trip, and it was aggravating to be stopped when he was finally so close to his objective. "An island," he groused as he pulled up behind the last car in line and killed the engine. Clipping the ticket on the visor, he checked out all the other lanes, most of which were full of cars. "Glynnis had to pick a guy who lives on a frigging island?"

Lily looked up from the fingernail she was filing. "You're such a cheery guy." She arched an eyebrow at him. "I suppose now probably wouldn't be a good time to point out we would've had plenty of time after all to stop at that Liz Claiborne outlet we passed."

He turned his head slowly and gave her his deadliest master sergeant stare,the one that made raw recruits tremble in their boots.

It had about as much effect on Lily as every other attempt he'd made to put her in her place. "'Guess not," she said cheerfully, and dropped the file into her purse before opening the passenger door. "Well, look on the bright side. At least we can stretch our legs. I don't know about you, but my tush passed numb and headed straight for rigor mortis about fifty miles back."

He couldn't help it: he smiled ruefully. Then he, too, climbed out and did what she suggested. He took the opportunity to stretch his legs.

Miguel pulled into lane five three cars behind the Jeep and slouched down in his seat when he saw Taylor and his woman headed his way. This was getting complicated. Who would have thought, when he'd followed the master sergeant from the Marine base yesterday, that this evening would find him more than a thousand miles away, in line for a vessel going only Dios knew where?

Reading a board outside the booth a few moments ago while awaiting his turn to buy a ticket, he'd seen that in addition to four island destinations, there were two boats a day that went to Canada. For an instant, he had frozen, wondering which destination he was supposed to buy a ticket for, and realizing that if it was Canada he was in trouble. Then his natural confidence had returned. The Canadian boats appeared to leave early in the day, so this was not likely to be a problem, and to—how did the saying go?—borrow trouble was unacceptable.

When his turn came at the booth, he'd considered simply pointing out Taylor's Jeep and telling the ticket seller he was part of the master sergeant's party and wanted to go where the other man was going. But what if the seller didn't remember where that was? There were several cars between Miguel's and Taylor's, and the last thing he needed was to be brought to the commander's attention. In the end, he had simply bought a ticket for the last island in the chain.

So here he sat, hemmed in on all sides by other cars. It was pointless to grab the woman at this juncture, since it was impossible to get off the dock even if he could separate her from the marine. Hence, his current slouch—he had no intention of relinquishing the element of surprise by allowing himself to be spotted.

But it didn't please him. Miguel Escavez did not slide down in seats to avoid confrontations; he met them head on! He didn't appreciate feeling out of his element, but this quite frankly was far beyond what he had anticipated when he'd set out on his mission. If he had had just one more minute at that petrol station this afternoon, the woman would be in his possession now, and this furtiveness would be unnecessary. He had been so close… until the commander barked out an order and the gringa had jumped to do his bidding.

Miguel had half expected the marine to get out of his vehicle and confront him then and there. But Taylor had driven off the minute the blonde woman had climbed into the Jeep, so clearly he hadn't bothered to note who she was talking to.

Proving my superiority over the U.S. Marines once again, he thought smugly. He would have noted who talked to his woman. But that led to thoughts of Emilita in another man's arms, which led to the injustice of his treatment by Taylor, and before he knew it, he was grinding his teeth in fury. Determinedly, he shook it off, taking several deep, calming breaths He needed to concentrate his energy on the positive.

After all, he was about to accomplish his objective; he could feel it in his bones. It would be beneficial to know where they were headed, but surely an island destination meant this endless road trip was about to reach its culmination. And not a moment too soon, if you asked him.

He didn't like driving these American highways. Gringo drivers were too quick with the rude gestures whenever he made a mistake. He spit on them— they made mistakes all the time, so he ought to be allowed a minor one or two. At least he had the excuse of unfamiliar thoroughfares that were much busier, if a lot smoother, than those to which he was accustomed. What excuse had they?

Finding himself once again growing tense, he drew yet another deep breath and forced himself to relax. He need only practice patience for a short while longer. For. soon, the opportunity would present itself to him.

Then the master sergeant would see how it felt to lose his woman.

Lily's forehead furrowed as she glanced over at Zach. Had his shoulders grown wider since the last time she'd looked? She could swear that the longer they were confined in the car, the more space he took up.

Watching his hands as they tapped a restless rhythm against the steering wheel made her strangely itchy. They were tanned, tough-skinned, and sort of beat-up-looking, marred by nicks and calluses. His nails were clean and clipped, but his left thumb sported a nail that was ripped below the quick on one side.

She looked down at her own hands with a rueful smile. They weren't exactly smooth as silk themselves. But she was a chef, so cuts and burns were a hazard of the job. Besides, compared to Zach's, hers could have belonged to some pampered magnolia blossom on one of those old-time southern plantations. With his wide palms and large-knuckled fingers, Zach's hands were just so indisputably male .

A moment later she snuck a peek at his mouth, and found her gaze lingering on the thin, pale scar that bisected his upper lip. Her nipples tightened to attention, and the spot deep between her thighs went all tight and achy, and she jerked her gaze away. Oh, man. This was not good. This was not good at all.

She was suddenly hornier than a convict out on parole, and where the heck had that come from? She'd never tried to deny Zach's hunk appeal but she had sort of blithely assumed his insulting attitude toward her would act like a vaccine against it. Surely regular booster shots of his lousy personality would render her permanently immune.

But he'd played nice today. Well, nicer, anyway, but when one was used to dealing with Baboo the Barbarian, almost human behavior made an amazing difference, and she'd found her opinion of him softening considerably. The deciding factor, of course, had been that hint of vulnerability he'd displayed this morning talking about his parents. It had tugged at every sensibility she possessed, worming its way more deeply into one of her soft spots every time her thoughts drifted back to it.

And wasn't that just too pathetic for words? Good grief, women had been falling for that tough-guy-disguising-the-hurt-inner-boy ploy for centuries. She shifted in her seat, straightening her spine defensively. Well, if she couldn't be smarter than that, she'd simply have to be vigilant. Because no way on earth did she plan to fall victim to that sorry cliche.

Still, sneaking looks at his mouth, she couldn't help but speculate. Zach was well traveled and came from a monied background that usually landed its brethren deep in the Old School Tie network. So how in heaven's name had he gotten from there to the macho Marine thing he had going? And why did the conviction keep sliding into her mind that far from preppie polite, he'd kiss like a guy from the wrong side of the tracks?

She pressed her spine hard into her seat back. Good glory, Lily, are you out of your cotton-picking mind? The man thinks you're a money-grubbing slut, and you're wondering how hekisses? Why not just bash your head against the nearest concrete surface while you're at it? It would involve about the same level of intelligence .

Swiveling to glare at Zach as if he'd been the one to suggest she rate his sex appeal, she snapped, "If you're so darned concerned about your sister being taken to the cleaners by every Tom, Dick, and Harry she encounters, why the heck didn't you ever bother to teach her some basic money management skills?"

Zach's hands, which he had consciously been keeping occupied to prevent himself doing something real stupid with them, froze on the steering wheel midtap. Then he turned to stare at Lily. Where the hell had that come from? Was this the same woman who'd been so relentlessly, annoyingly cheerful all day? It didn't take Sigmund Freud to know what his problem was, but what had gotten her panties in a twist all of a sudden?

When it came right down to it, however, he really didn't give a good goddamn what her reasons were. All he knew was that he was ripe for a fight… and she'd just obligingly hand-delivered one right to his door.

Turning, he braced his arm along the back of the seat and gave her a slow, insolent appraisal. Not until hot color flooded the surface of her skin did he drawl, "And you consider this to be your business why , sweetheart?"

"I consider it to be my business, bud, because Glynnis is only a few days shy of her twenty-fifth birthday, and she didn't even know the bare bones of handling her finances until I started giving her some pointers a couple of months ago."

"Oh, yeah, I can just imagine how that worked. It takes a real humanitarian to point her money into your bank account."

" What money? Have you ever paid the slightest attention to your sister's struggle to make ends meet? Yes, she lives in that lovely beach house, and her allowance is generous for a young woman her age. But it must be obvious even to you that she barely has a rudimentary grasp of economics. She was sent to European finishing schools and raised to expect the very best. No one ever bothered to tell her the reasons she couldn't keep spending in the manner to which she was accustomed before I sat down with her and explained why it was no longer viable. For heaven's sake, Zach, where her contemporaries are shopping Nordstrom Rack if they're lucky. she's still buying couture. She didn't even know how to balance her darn checkbook until I taught her!"

He stared at her. There was a ring of truth in her voice that he didn't want to hear, so he shoved it away with a flatly stated, "Bullshit." But agitation, born from an old familiar guilt, began to churn in his gut.

"It is not bull crap," she said hotly. "You know what I think? I think you must be one of those control freaks who likes keeping his womenfolk in ignorance. What is it, some kind of power trip that provides your kicks or something?"

His sister was the only family he had left, and Zach had been on edge for three days, worrying about her. Anger and guilt and a sense of his own failure exploded in his gut and rose in a red tide to erode his control, and reacting for perhaps the first time in his adult life without considering the consequences of his actions, he grasped Lily by the shoulders and hauled her half out of her seat. Pulling her toward him over the console, he bent his head until their noses were a fraction of an inch apart and rasped, "You are full of shit, lady, you know that? If I was even half the control freak you accuse me of being I'd still have more candidates for victims than I'd know what to do with. I've got big, tough Marines to push around—I sure as hell don't need to dominate my little sister to get my rocks off."

To his surprise she didn't have an immediate smartass comeback, and he was on the verge of congratulating himself for finally scoring a point off her when he became aware that she was staring fixedly at his mouth. He stilled… and felt the quiver that ran through her.

Slowly, her gaze rose to meet his. She swallowed and her tongue stole out to slick across her lower lip, and his dick shot from dormant to raging hard-on so fast he was surprised his little head didn't get a concussion rapping against his fly. He dropped her so quick her breasts bounced as she plopped back in her seat, and he reared back against his door, scrubbing his ringers across his forehead.

Jesus. What the hell just happened here? Had she really been looking at his mouth like she'd like to take a big bite out of it, or had the strain he was under finally popped a vein in his brain? Then his eyes narrowed. Or maybe she was switching her attention from his sister to him. After all, he had a lot more money than Glynnis.

That theory would have held together a lot better if Lily looked anything like a woman who controlled men through sex right this moment. Instead, she sat there blinking, and when their eyes met, scalding color climbed her throat.

Then she seemed to gather herself.

"Okay," she squeaked. Clearing her throat, she started over. "Okay, so maybe I was wrong about the control-freak thing. If so, I apologize. But I'm not wrong about Glynnis's financial ignorance." She sat up straighten "She didn't know how to balance a checkbook until I showed her, and she didn't have the vaguest idea about managing her allowance "

Zach's hand dropped. "That doesn't make sense. She's an extravagant shopper, sure, but Grandfather must have taught her something about handling her finances. He was sure as hell all over me to learn financial responsibility so I'd be in position to take over the family corporation. When I refused to fall in with his plans and joined the Marines instead, I just figured he'd eventually start grooming Glynnis for the position." Surreptitiously adjusting himself, he gazed across the seat at her. "Now he was a controlling son of a bitch."

Then he stilled. "He was a control freak," he reiterated slowly. "And I wouldn't put it past the old bastard to have set it up to keep Glynnis ignorant on purpose."

A pucker formed between Lily's slender brows. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"Hell, I don't know. It pissed him off when I refused to toe the line—maybe he thought when I saw what he was doing it would bring me home to take care of her, and by extension, the business, just the way he wanted. God, that man was cold. He detested not getting his way, and if it hadn't been for Grandmama, life in that frigging mausoleum would have been unbearable." But warmth stole through him at the memory of his grandmother, and he felt a soft smile tug at his lips. "She was the best, though—that's where Glynnie gets her sweetness."

"Glynnis said your grandmother died when you both were still quite young."

"Yeah, the same year as my folks, just days after I graduated prep school. Then it was just me and Grandfather, since Glynnis had been sent to a year-round boarding school in Geneva when Grandmama got sick. She hated that, but that was the old man for you. He didn't give a shit what we wanted. He wanted Glynnie out of the way, so Glynnie was sent off. And he decided that I would be trained to take over the family corporation." Feeling the weight of those suffocating expectations all over again, he tugged at the neckline of his thermal T.

"So you ran away and joined the Marines?"

He frowned at her. "I didn't run away. I was eighteen years old; I simply exercised my right to choose my own career path. And it sure as hell wasn't gonna be one that left me sitting in an office day after day."

Her lips curled up in a small, empathetic smile. "No," she agreed solemnly. "I can't envision that at all. I have no doubt an office job would have driven you straight up the wall."

Her comment caught him by surprise. He would have thought she'd be all for a guy taking whatever job brought in the most money. A vagrant thought that she might not fit so handily into the role he'd assigned her crawled uneasily through his mind, but he shoved it away. Don't go there , he told himself.

And didn't allow himself to question why not.

The sun had set behind the mountains to the west a few hours later when a tap on the window jerked Miguel out of the light doze he'd fallen into. He sat upright, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he half expected to see the sergeant major on the other side of the glass furiously demanding to know what Miguel was doing here. But the young woman who bent down to peer in his window was a stranger. Miguel cracked the window.

"I need your ticket, sir."

It took a second to change mental gears; then he blinked, yawned, and plucked the ticket from the dashboard. He handed it to the woman.

She looked at it and frowned. "You're in the wrong line."

"Que?"

"This ticket is for San Juan Island. You're in line for Orcas."

Swearing to himself, he nodded emphatically at the young woman. " Si . Orcas."

"Your ticket is for San Juan. You spent more on it than you had to for passage to Orcas."

He pretended not to understand, hoping she'd go away.

She sighed. "You paid too much," she said loudly, as if he were deaf instead of a foreign national, and tried to hand the ticket back to him. "If you take it up to the booth you can exchange it and get some money back."

People were starting to look this way, and Miguel wanted her gone before one of them was Taylor. " Si ," he said again. "Orcas."

"Oh, for crying out loud," she said. "Whatever. You can't say I didn't try." Then, adding the ticket to the stack in her hand, she shrugged and moved on to the next car.

She obviously thought he was an idiot, and Miguel glared first at her retreating back in the side-view mirror, then at the Jeep three cars forward. For this indignity, too, Taylor would pay. He was going to pay, and pay, and pay.