A GREAT CATCH: Chapter One
Port of Milwaukee
"No, no...you've got
it all wrong. You two need to be together. Like this--big buff dude
in back, cute chick here in front."
The photographer clamped
his hand around First Mate Tessa Jardine's arm and positioned her so that
her shoulders bumped against the hard chest of the man standing behind
her.
The instant their bodies
made contact, her muscles tightened, and the tension shot like a rocket
straight to her temples.
God, her head pounded, and
the blinding-hot sun and rhythmic slapping of waves against ship and shore
didn't help any--nor did the ever-present, screeching cacophony of the
gulls.
Heavy humidity was slowly
melting the creases of her white dress uniform, and each time the photographer
squeezed her arm and called her "cute," she wanted to slug him.
"Oh, my...that's perfect,"
the photographer gushed. "Love the contrast. He's so much taller
than you, and it emphasizes his manly-man looks -- and you're just marvelous,
so cute."
"I'd prefer that you don't
call me cute," Tessa said in the firm voice she used to advise men twice
her age or size to pay attention. "And I don't like being handled as if
I'm some bimbo selling beer with sex."
The photographer snorted.
From his shaved head, nose ring, and goatee to his baggy, overlong pants,
he epitomized "trendy young artiste."
"Your boss's whole angle
is sex, honey. Sex sells and I can make anything sexy. You want attention,
right? You want to pack that old bucket with passengers, right? So go over
the top -- be daring. I don't do ho-hum, I do sizzle and snap."
He snapped his fingers in
front of Tessa's face. She jerked back in reflex, bumping into that warm
chest again. She eased away -- or tried to.
"Oh, no you don't, missy."
Oblivious to her warning glare, the photographer poked her backwards with
an index finger to her shoulder. "Now, it's like this. The captain here,
he's male with a capital M. I see power. I see authority. I see chicks
drooling. And you're just marvelous -- "
Tessa's fingers twitched.
" -- with those sexy kitty-cat
eyes, and your mouth makes me think of a young Bardot. You're not blond,
but hey! Nobody's perfect. I can't get over just how cu -- whoa!"
Tessa yanked him down by
a fistful of his black-knit shirt. As his eyes popped wide, she enunciated
very clearly: "Please don't call me cute."
The photographer's mouth
pinched tight. When he cleared his throat pointedly, Tessa let him go.
"That, young lady, wasn't very nice."
"Being nice," intoned a deep
voice behind her, "isn't part of her job description."
On a heated rush of anger
and embarrassment, she almost turned, but didn't. "Why, thank you so
much. Captain."
"You're welcome." The body
behind her bent down as he murmured, "Miss Jardine."
At the touch of his breath
against her ear, Tessa shivered and looked straight ahead, focusing on
the gray-and-white ship rocking gently at anchor.
I can work with this man.
I can, I can...
"A bit skittish, are we?"
At the faintly condescending
question, Tessa glanced at the photographer again. He was staring at her
with an expression of distaste.
Skittish just about summed
up her mood at the moment -- and she prayed the dampness under her arms had
everything to do with the heat and nothing whatsoever to do with the man
at her back.
Her commanding officer.
The perfect manly-man.
The perfect bastard.
"How much longer will this
take?" Tessa asked with a sigh.
"Just give me a few seconds
and I'll finish with the publicity stills. I have a job to do here, you
know," the photographer retorted.
"Don't we all," Tessa said,
as the kid again pushed her back against that warm, unyielding chest. At
once, the scent of spicy cologne enveloped her.
Sandalwood...potent and earthy.
A scent that shot straight to an ancient, murky part of her brain, triggering
vivid flashes of images and sensations: a slow finger sliding down the
pale skin of her belly, a husky laugh, lips tasting thickly sweet of rum
and coke, a beard-rough chin.
Tessa took a long, steadying
breath to clear her head as the photographer said, "Now, I want Captain...Paul,
is it?"
"Hall."
"Is that your first or last
name?"
"Captain Hall."
A silence followed, and Tessa
almost smiled. The "big buff dude" wasn't happy about all this posturing,
either.
"My, aren't we a friendly
bunch," the photographer muttered. "Okay,
Captain Hall, put your
hands on her shoulders."
Tessa stiffened. "I don't
think that's appropriate."
The photographer rolled his
eyes. "Chill, okay? I want a cozy, one-big-happy-family shot, just in case
your boss isn't interested in a sexier angle. Now stand still and you put
your hands here...yes, exactly. Oh, I love it, love it!"
Hall's hands rested lightly
on her shoulders, as if he didn't want to touch her any more than she wanted
to be touched. The heat of his skin penetrated the fabric of her shirt,
the press of his hands somehow intimate and heavy.
From the corner of her eye
she could just glimpse strong, broad hands and very capable-looking fingers.
A scar -- one she didn't remember -- cut across the knuckles of his left hand,
and with the exception of a plain watch, he wore no jewelry. Not even a
ring.
The photographer tilted her
chin, putting an end to her discreet survey, then moved one of Hall's hands
closer to her neck.
"Now," he said in a tone
usually reserved for temperamental toddlers. "Let's all smile and look
happy to be here. Captain, a little lip action would be nice, thank you."
Despite her irritation and
pounding headache, Tessa couldn't help but smile at the irony of that particular
comment.
This kid had no idea...
"Praise the gods, she smiles
at last!" The camera clicked three times in quick succession before the
photographer straightened. "That's it. I'm outta here. It's been such
a pleasure, people."
He snatched up his equipment
and stalked off, leaving Tessa with her back still pressed against her
captain. To her relief, the weight of Hall's hands lifted from her shoulders,
freeing her to step away. Raising her chin, Tessa turned at last to face
him -- and took an instinctive step back, swallowing.
From the tips of his polished
shoes up to the gleaming black visor, he looked as if he'd stepped right
out of a recruitment poster. Not a single wrinkle marred the navy blue
jacket and pressed trousers, or the white shirt he wore buttoned to the
neck with an expertly knotted tie. He still kept his dark hair military
short, and a beard shadowed his square jaw. While that infamous killer
smile was notably absent, he still carried himself with all the hotshot
arrogance she remembered.
Tessa ignored her damp palms,
as well as the flutter in the pit of her stomach she hoped came from her
missed lunch. "Mr. Sizzle-and-Snap is right. You do fill out that uniform
very nicely. Sir."
Lucas Hall looked past her
toward open water, legs braced wide, hands clasped behind his back as if
he were already on the rolling deck of his ship. He paid her no more attention
than he would a gnat.
After several moments, she
tipped her head toward him, smiling sweetly, and murmured, "Stop ignoring
me. People will notice."
"And you think nobody's noticed
you've been ignoring me since you arrived here two weeks ago?"
"I haven't had time to socialize.
I've been working my butt off fitting out this ship on time for -- "
"You've been avoiding me."
He turned at last, staring at her from light hazel eyes. Eerie, wolfish
eyes -- and about as warm as Lake Superior in January. Tessa went still, unnerved,
but a flash of color caught her eye before she could respond.
Oh, joy. The boss had arrived.
"Show time. Get ready!" The
whispered command followed in the swishing wake of pink silk, glittering
gold, and floral perfume. "The cable crew will want to talk to you both
next. Remember, act professional, answer
only as you were instructed...and
Miss Jardine, I don't want you standing so close to Captain Hall."
Which in Pink Widow language
meant: He's mine. Back off.
Like that would ever be a
problem.
As the woman breezed through
a knot of reporters, the appreciative gazes of some dozen men -- including
Hall's -- followed the pitch and roll of her hips. The frank stares reminded
Tessa of snatches of gossip she'd heard from her crew over the last few
weeks, and her mood darkened.
"At her age, I expect she's
plenty experienced, but maybe I could give her a few pointers on your techniques,"
Tessa said tightly as she stepped away. "Especially that 'disappearing
into thin air without so much as a good-bye' trick."
Hall shifted his gaze back
to her, and the already humid air grew a little hotter and stickier under
his glare. "We'll discuss this later, Jardine, but not here."
Bullseye. She'd finally
rattled his icy calm.
Tessa turned her attention
to the ship awaiting its ceremonial christening, and the sight of her high
prow and sleek lines, so different from the huge, bulky freighters she
was used to, eased away her tension.
Such a pretty ship. Every
minute she'd spend on those freshly painted decks would be worth taking
orders from Hall and putting up with the crew's inevitable distrust or
harassment.
A gull's plaintive cry sounded
high above her, and she looked up at a pair of gray-white birds wheeling
gracefully against a blue sky high above the Taliesen.
It was almost a perfect day,
and she wished her family were with her to help celebrate. But her father
was loading taconite at Marquette, and by now Everett was downbound on
the St. Mary's River. Steve had hoped his ship would make it to Milwaukee
on time, but she didn't see him, and Matt --
Sudden tears stung her eyes
as Tessa realized what she was doing. Swallowing away the lump of sadness,
she glanced around the bustling dock, filled with a small crowd of ship
buffs, media types, workmen, and several dozen suits. They'd all gathered
this afternoon to watch Roland Stanhope's sleek widow launch her own venture,
compliments of old Rolly's Great Lakes shipping fortune.
A cheerful shout sounded
behind her, and Tessa turned to see the mayor walk past, a pack of reporters
at his heels.
"Captain Hall, we need you
over here," called Harry Kowalski, the company's PR rep. He motioned impatiently.
"The Sentinel photographer wants a shot of you with the mayor and
Dee, with the Taliesen in the background."
The gathered crowd -- especially
the women -- watched Hall with rapt attention as he strode toward the mayor.
An anemic blonde actually sucked in her breath as he walked past.
But Tessa couldn't help watching
either as people made way for him, moving back without a word or even a
signal. Tall and broad-shouldered, Hall radiated power and authority. The
entire package dazzled; so much so that she wondered if anybody else noticed
how his easy grace barely disguised the slight hitch in his walk.
The crisp uniform likely
covered other scars, and the thought caused her a twinge of regret. So
many memories today -- and impossible to avoid them.
"Miss Jardine!"
Tessa glanced at Kowalski,
who motioned for her to join the group in front of the ship. With a soft
sigh, she headed toward him and smiled at the mayor, who'd been drawn aside
by several of the company's investors and board members, sweating in their
expensive suits.
Upon joining Kowalski, Hall,
and Dee Stanhope -- who managed to look cool and elegant despite the heat
and brisk wind -- Tessa caught sight of a handsome black man standing with
them and nearly groaned out loud.
Darryl Pointer, host of the
local cable program City Beat, went after controversial subjects
with the single-mindedness of a pit bull.
"I want a quick interview
here on the dock," Pointer was ordering. "Then after the christening ceremony,
we'll head over to the ship and shoot some footage there. How does that
sound?"
"Perfect," Dee answered.
"Why don't you interview Captain Hall first, then talk to Miss Jardine.
You can save me for last. I don't have anything very interesting to say,
I'm afraid. Everything I do is behind the scenes, you know."
Pointer made a tsk-tsk sound.
"Mrs. Stanhope, I'm certain I'll find everything about you absolutely fascinating."
Dee Stanhope -- fortysomething
and the owner of a thriving commercial shipping company -- blushed prettily.
She
shrugged and fluttered a hand as if to say:
Oh, this old ship? Just
a little something I whipped up the other day in the boardroom.
The sharp gleam of interest
in Pointer's dark eyes told Tessa he hadn't fallen for Dee's demure act.
"So, Captain," he said, turning to Hall. "Ready to answer a few questions?"
"Yes."
At the terse response, Pointer's
brows shot up. "No call to be nervous. If it helps, pretend the cameras
aren't here."
"I'm not nervous," Hall said
in a clipped tone, and Dee touched his arm, flashing a brilliant, gushy
smile. After a moment, he smiled back and visibly relaxed.
Startled by the familiarity
of the exchange, Tessa dropped her gaze to the polished tips of her shoes.
So much for rumors: Hall really was sleeping with the boss.
Anger spiked, sudden and
hot. It had taken her over six years of hard work and struggling against
blatant sexism to finally land the job of first mate, and all Lucas Hall
had to do was unzip his pants and --
"Yo, Darryl," yelled the
cameraman, interrupting Tessa's thoughts. "It's hot, man. Let's get this
show on the road."
Pointer squared his shoulders,
donned a jaunty smile, and stared into the wide black lens. The cameraman
focused, then made an okay sign.
"Sun-drenched skies," Pointer
said in his deep, pleasant voice. "Sparkling blue water. The pounding of
the surf. A cruise ship, rocking quietly at anchor. The Caribbean? The
Bahamas? Well, would you believe...Milwaukee, Wisconsin?"
He paused for effect, widening
his smile. "If it seems a world away from the typical ocean cruise, you're
right. I'm here today with Captain Lucas Hall, First Mate Tessa Jardine,
and Stanhope Shipping's owner, Mrs. Dee Stanhope, to talk about risky business."
Pointer turned toward Dee,
who stood with an indulgent smile as the breeze fluttered her pink skirt.
"Risky business as in purchasing a century-old steamship, which today will
be rechristened the Taliesen. Many are questioning the financial
wisdom of a cruise ship sailing Lake Michigan. In these tough economic
times, is the Taliesen doomed to sink, figuratively if not literally,
before she even sets out on her maiden voyage? Mrs. Stanhope, would you
care to comment?"
Sink?
Tessa stared at Pointer.
What a jerk!
"Getting the Taliesen
back in service has long been a dream of mine," Dee answered, unflustered.
"She's a tribute to a way of life that's all but disappeared. These days,
people are so intent on getting somewhere fast that I wanted to reintroduce
the joys of leisurely travel. Stop and smell the roses, that's my motto."
"But do you -- "
"However, dreams and business
don't mix, so I've spared no expense in restoring this ship from the keel
on up. I've handpicked stellar officers and a dedicated crew, all of whom
will make sure this ship is not only safe, but who'll treat each and every
passenger like royalty. And at a very affordable rate. Unlike that other
Great Lakes cruise line."
"But you acknowledge there's
a risk?" Pointer said quickly, before Dee could interrupt him again.
"Of course. But without risks,
life would be so dull, don't you think?"
That clearly took Pointer
by surprise, although the man didn't miss a beat. "Captain Hall, you're
a Coast Guard veteran, are you not?"
"Yes, sir. Nearly twenty
years of service."
"And you've also received
quite a few medals, including several commendations for valor?"
Hall nodded once in acknowledgment
as a muscle in his jaw tightened. "That is correct."
"So modestly stated, sir."
Pointer smiled. "But our area viewers will recall you also played a key
role in one of the worst maritime tragedies of the past twenty-five years."
Here it comes.
Tessa's gaze shifted toward
her boss. Dee's pink lips tightened a fraction, and Kowalski had turned
purplish.
"Since the loss of the Edmund
Fitzgerald in 1975, the Great Lakes has maintained a good safety record,"
Pointer continued. "Until the tanker
Robert D. McKee exploded and
sank nearly two years ago. Captain Hall, some people find it ironic that
you're now working for Stanhope Shipping, the company that owned the ill-fated
McKee.
Has this been an issue for you?"
"No, sir, it has not."
Tessa darted a glance at
Hall. He stood straight and proud...and an unexpected pang of sympathy
stole over her, even if he was the last person she should feel sorry for.
"And is this true for the
first mate?" Pointer turned his inquisitive dark gaze on her. "Miss Jardine,
you lost a brother on the McKee. How does it feel to work with the
man who was partly responsible for sending your brother, and the four men
with him, to the bottom of Lake Michigan?"
A heavy, awkward silence
followed.
"Mr. Pointer, please," Kowalski
said with a sigh. "This is not an appropriate question. Captain
Hall was cleared of any wrongdoing, and with the Yarwood lawsuit still
pending in court, you know we can't publicly discuss the McKee incident."
"I was only asking Miss Jardine
to share her feelings with our viewers."
Tessa would've gladly done
so, but snarling 'Up yours!' wouldn't go over well with Stanhope's board
of directors. After all, she symbolized the company's equal opportunity
savoir faire and had a part to play today.
"I have the utmost respect
for Captain Hall, both as captain of the
Taliesen and as the officer
who tried to carry out his sworn duty, even at the risk of his own life,"
Tessa said, as she'd been told. In her own words, she added, "Shipboard
employment can be dangerous, but as you pointed out, accidents are rare.
I've worked for Stanhope Shipping for years, and I have no complaints -- obviously,
or I wouldn't be here."
"Hiring Captain Hall also
set off a rumble of anger in the union." Pointer didn't take his gaze from
Tessa. "Some claim he was hired over more experienced men as compensation
for the injuries he received during the botched rescue attempt, which forced
him to retire from active service. Is this true?"
Stunned by the insensitivity -- it
was her younger brother who'd died in that "botched" rescue attempt -- Tessa
forced herself calmly to return Pointer's stare. The effort kept the pain
at bay; it would look bad if Stanhope's token female first mate burst into
tears on camera.
"My company is well within
its right to hire outside the unions," Dee cut in, her tone civil but cool.
"And Captain Hall is more than competent, Mr. Pointer."
"Maybe the captain would
like to comment for himself?" Pointer turned to Hall.
"I'm very good at what I
do, sir."
"Of course you are, but I
see a big difference between commanding a passenger ship and chasing drug
smugglers or illegal aliens," Pointer said, his eyes bright with pleasure
at so obviously hitting a nerve. "And Miss Jardine has only worked as a
junior officer on freighters. We've heard a lot of negative press lately
about the safety of the cruise industry. Why hire a captain and senior
officer who lack experience with passenger vessels? Isn't that just asking
for trouble?"
Dee smiled, shaking her head.
"Play fair. You can't compare a foreign cruise ship to one owned and operated
in the US. We've passed stringent Coast Guard inspections and Miss Jardine
coordinates a first-rate safety program. The complaints, Mr. Pointer, are
just sour grapes. Now, shall we get on with the christening of my ship?"
"Certainly." Pointer signaled
the cameraman to stop filming, then grinned. "You're one tough lady, Mrs.
Stanhope."
"Please, Darryl, call me
Dee. It's so much shorter, and we have a busy afternoon ahead of us." Dee
rested her hand lightly on the man's shoulder. "I don't consider myself
tough, but the Taliesen is my baby and we both know a little controversy
is always good for business. Within reason."
Pointer laughed out loud,
and Tessa yearned to shove him into the water. She glanced at Hall, half-afraid
to see what emotion, if any, lurked in those hazel eyes -- and found him watching
her. Unnerved by the intensity of his gaze, she quickly looked away.
Kowalski herded everyone
toward the Taliesen's prow, where the mayor and his suit-wearing
party waited with barely concealed impatience. No doubt they wanted to
climb into their air-conditioned cars and head back to their air-conditioned
downtown offices.
Tessa could well imagine
their reactions to the sooty boiler room and the sweating firemen who loaded
black coal into the orange-red inferno of the boilers. The women, with
their heels and manicured fingernails, didn't look like they'd enjoy getting
down and dirty, either.
She wished she were below
deck right now, trading insults with the chief engineer, listening to the
sound of hissing steam and the well-oiled thud and clang of massive piston
rods, or the crew's curses and laughter hanging in air thick with the acridly
sweet smell of burning coal.
A trickle of perspiration
rolled down her back, itching beneath her white cotton bra. She ignored
the itch, standing still while the mayor made his speech. Dee followed,
keeping her own remarks brief, then she swung the bottle of champagne against
the ship's repainted hull and christened the Taliesen in an explosion
of pink bubbly.
Cameras popped and flashed,
the crowd cheered and clapped, and Tessa smiled until her cheeks ached,
staying as far away from Hall as possible.
Keeping her distance wasn't
difficult; the guests and reporters, especially the women, found him far
more interesting than a lowly first mate -- not to mention controversial.
After all, she hadn't been accused of blowing up any tankers while there
were men still alive inside.
How had her perfect job ended
up such a mess?
Over and over, she'd told
herself that turning down a promotion like this because of anger would
be foolish -- but a hell of a chasm lay between theory and reality.
"Miss Jardine, we're heading
to the Taliesen now." Kowalski's low warning brought Tessa back
to the present. The mayor departed along a line of shaking hands, while
half the media group followed Dee up the ship's ramp for a private tour.
The sound of their voices and laughter drifted down, mingled with the slap
of water against the Taliesen's hull.
Kowalski followed, guiding
the rest of the group toward the main deck, which left Tessa and Hall to
bring up the rear.
Hall was watching her. Again.
With the brim shielding his eyes, she couldn't read his expression -- and
it made her defensive, uncertain.
"What are you staring at?"
she demanded.
"I'm not staring. I'm waiting."
After a moment, he motioned toward the metal gangway. "Ladies first."
Tessa narrowed her eyes.
"In this uniform, Captain Hall, my gender doesn't mean squat. You think
of me as just one of the guys. Got that?"