A Man to Remember Read online

  He lifted the binoculars to his eyes and studied the bobbing craft with a brooding expression. This was his key to escape. The Skye Command. His taut lips pursed, and his brown eyes narrowed as he studied his quarry. His face was tight over prominent cheekbones; the angular jaw-line and chin were covered with the scruffy beginnings of a beard, sprinkled with a bit of auburn. Not very stylish, but it would serve its purpose, that of camouflage. At this point the more he looked like an American tourist, the better.

  He trained the binoculars on the expensive luxury yacht. He knew she had showered about nine and wore some skimpy gown that came to her mid-thighs. His palms grew moist watching her move about the yellow-lit cabin and imagining . . .

  Around ten she had carefully chosen a book from one of the shelves crammed beneath the port window and crawled into the narrow bunk. She lay very still, apparently absorbed in her reading. She was almost out of sight, and he had to strain to make out her form outlined beneath the sheet. Jake drew a heavy breath as he imagined those long, sexy legs between cool sheets. And he thought of how they'd feel entwined with his.

  Jake met a local friend for a couple of soft tacos and a cold cerveza. He sat on the far corner of the patio so he could keep an eye on the yacht. And the woman.

  "Ah, amigo. Nice view, of the city, eh?"

  Jake grunted a low greeting. "Sí. I'm keeping an eye on that small cruiser in the harbor, Emilio. She may be my ticket out of here. What do you know about the Skye Command?"

  Emilio handed Jake another beer from the bar. "She is owned by a rich American from San Diego. The long-legged señorita, his daughter. Seen her here a couple times, with her family. But the man, no se. A stranger."

  Jake's hand encircled the cool bottle, and he gulped greedily. "Ah, bueno. Gracias."

  "Sí, she is bonita all right. You have good taste, Jake. But then, you always chose the most beautiful women."

  "Just lucky, Emilio." Jake took another deep swallow.

  "Luckiest man alive, mi amigo."

  "Not this time, Emilio. I've made a powerful enemy and have to get out of here fast."

  Emilio frowned in the darkness. "Your source left you?"

  "High and dry. Too risky. My last orders were Vamos, pronto! Y buen suerte. Good luck, indeed," Jake muttered derisively.

  "I wish I could help you, Jake."

  "You're doing enough right now just giving me a place to hide. That's why I have to leave soon. I don't want to implicate you."

  "I'm not worried about that, amigo. We have our network. We will warn you when you are being followed."

  "I don't want to put you in danger, Emilio."

  Abruptly Jake lifted the binoculars to his dark eyes and trained them again on the harbor. A man was approaching the small craft, stumbling clumsily along the dock. Drunk. He grasped the steel bow rail and nearly fell in the water clambering aboard. The cabin lights were suddenly switched on, and Jake could see the man clearly. He was the same one who'd left this afternoon.

  Emilio squinted his eyes toward the craft. "Her lover?"

  Jake only grunted and watched the two figures in the yellow glow. "Damned bastard . . ." he muttered to himself.

  Jake sucked in his breath. Why was she of such interest to him? She was only a pawn. At one time he had planned to take the cruiser without her. After being with her today on the beach, though, he knew he wanted her with him.

  Alyse struggled awake when the sudden light glared in her face. She heard Evan's raving, angry voice and knew it was him. Him, and she dreaded this encounter. "Evan? Is that you? Did you have to wake me up?"

  "We've got to talk, Alyse. I'm not through with this."

  "I'm sleepy and it's late. Let's discuss it tomorrow." She rolled to turn her back to him, trying to block out the light.

  "Dammit, Alyse! Turn over here and face me!" He grabbed her shoulder and roughly jerked her around.

  Alyse felt a stab of pain in her shoulder and wrenched against the pillow. She tried to keep her face from showing the fear that suddenly overwhelmed her. He was drunk. He was like a stranger, a madman, waving his arms and yelling. She'd never seen him so very wild, and it was frightening.

  So this was the real Evan Wheeler, her father's bright and trusted new administrator? A man she considered marrying. . . but no longer.

  "Evan, you've been drinking too much. Let's get some sleep and discuss this rationally in the morning."

  "To hell with sleep! To hell with the morning!" Evan's arms waved loosely in the air. "I want to know why you won't talk to your old man on my behalf! What's a little more money to him? He's so damned rich, he'd never miss it!"

  "That isn't the point, Evan. I don't like being used to advance your career."

  He leaned forward and teetered. For a moment Alyse thought he might go over on his nose. Then, amazingly, he straightened. "Oh, hell, Alyse. You're just being silly and stubborn. What's wrong with throwing a little business my way? After all, we're engaged!"

  "Not quite." Alyse drew a shaky breath. Now was hardly the time to tell him that she found him repulsive. Hiring the man and suggesting he might be ripe husband material had been her father's idea. Just like everything else in her life, Raymond Skye wanted control. He had decided that at twenty-six Alyse was past ready for marriage. Everyone was convinced except Alyse. "I—I just don't like the idea, Evan."

  "People do it all the time. Whatsa matter, baby?" He slurred his words, grasping both her forearms and trying to draw her to him. "You want to help me, don't you? I thought that's why we took your brother's fancy little boat all the way down here to Mexico."

  Alyse's blue-eyed gaze grew sharp. "You thought wrong, Evan."

  "Oh, come on, baby blue eyes. You know you like me. You want me." He pulled her closer, and she could smell his fetid liquor breath.

  She tried to twist free of his grasp. In his drunken stupor Evan had super strength. He held her firmly to him. Alyse felt a moment of panic when she knew she couldn't escape him.

  Evan lowered his lips to hers, murmuring, "Jus' a li'l kiss, baby. Maybe it'll lead to somethin' else. A li'l fun 'n' games."

  She twisted her head, and his lips smeared moisture across her cheek. Uncontrollably she shuddered. "No, Evan—"

  But he was unrelenting, and after a brief struggle his mouth closed tightly on hers.

  A bitter repulsion rose in her throat. He reeked of stale beer and tequila, and his touch filled Alyse with loathing. Frantically she pushed at him, rolling her head back and forth to free her lips from his nauseating kiss.

  Eventually he lifted his head, gasping for air, but continued to foul her with his filthy breath. One hand gripped her chin and held her firmly. "So far there haven't been many benefits from sleeping with the boss's daughter." His other hand dropped down to fondle her breast. "There hasn't even been sleeping with the little darling at all. Maybe she doesn't like real men."

  Alyse wrenched away from him, her agility being her only weapon at the moment. Evan spun around, his drunkenness causing him to stagger to regain his footing. When he looked up, he saw that she had taken a defensive stance. She held the small cabin fire extinguisher in her arms, pointing the hose directly at him.

  "Put that down before someone gets hurt, Alyse." He giggled. "Me!"

  "Get out of here, Evan. Don't you touch me again or I'll blast you."

  "Damn you Alyse! That thing's filled with chemicals. It's dangerous!"

  "Then so am I. Get out!" She felt as though she were channeling her favorite heroine, Bristol Bordeaux. Bristol would never let herself be used. Bristol was strong.

  Evan blinked at her several times, then shifted upright. "You look like you mean business, baby."

  "I've never been more serious in my life, Evan. Get out of here." She was shaking and wondered if he could tell how scared she was. What if he challenged her bravado? Did she have the courage to pull the trigger? She'd never done anything vicious in her life.

  "If I leave here, Alyse, baby, you'll be sorry."
>
  "Don't try to threaten me, Evan. I could make a few threats myself, like telling my father a thing or two about his new fair-haired boy."

  "You're nothing but a spoiled brat, Alyse. If I leave, you'll be all alone down here in Mexico. You won't know how to make it out by yourself. You've never done anything by yourself in your life. You need me. Or Father!"

  She lifted the extinguisher threateningly. "Not any more. Get out."

  Evan mumbled obscenities as he stumbled up the teakwood ladder to the aft cockpit.

  Alyse stood poised, clumsily holding the red fire extinguisher in her arms like a shotgun until the sounds of Evan's shuffling footsteps could no longer be heard. Carefully she replaced the volatile tube and rushed over to lock the cabin door. At that moment, Alyse was filled with a strange sense of pride in remembering the portable extinguisher. Bristol Bordeaux, had used a fire extinguisher against foreign agents who chased her through an old hotel in London. Bristol had been forced to pull the trigger. But that was fiction.

  Real life was much scarier.

  Instead of relief, Alyse felt a high degree of tension in the aftermath of the encounter with Evan. What would she do if he came back? Could she really pull that trigger? Probably not. She reached for the light switch and flipped it, clothing the room in comforting darkness. Her head whirled with the impact of her new predicament.

  Then a new thought struck her. What would she do now if Evan didn't come back as he claimed? How would she get the Skye Command back to San Diego Harbor? Evan was right; she'd never undertaken such a major task by herself. Realistically she didn't trust herself to take the expensive yacht around the Baja tip and along the sometimes treacherous Pacific coast. Oh, God, what a mess she'd created for herself.

  Wrapping a sheet around her shoulders, she curled up on the bunk and gazed out the port window at La Paz. The small Mexican town seemed so peaceful, so lazy, so beautiful. Actually she loved the place. But she had backed herself into a corner, and she was all alone in a foreign country. Now how was she going to get out?

  Knowing she couldn't sleep, Alyse snapped on the tiny bunk light and found her place in Bristol Bordeaux's next breathless adventure. Soon Alyse was whisked away from her problems in the tiny Mexican harbor to the Moroccan coast, where Bristol eluded her followers and stowed aboard an oil trawler bound for her home port of Houston, Texas.

  The bunk light glowed far into the night.

  Next day Alyse busied herself around the boat, almost hoping Evan would return. Yet she dreaded the thought. She had seen a side of him last night that frightened her. He'd been so brutal and rude. And drunk. She just couldn't shrug it off with the excuse that he'd been drinking too much. That, too, was a problem. Wait until Father heard about this.

  Father. Should she call him? It was the first time she'd encountered a crisis and not rushed out immediately to seek his help. But something held her back this time. Something deep inside said, Take care of this yourself. And she liked the independent feeling. Alyse squared her shoulders with a strange, false sense of pride.

  Then she halted, mid-step. Peering through the large forward window, Alyse's eyes settled on a pair of deep brown, elaborately engraved cowboy boots. Standing right on the Skye Command's teakwood deck!

  "Hey, cowboy!" She bolted up the ladder to the cockpit. "Get those boots off my deck!"

  "How else can I talk to you?"

  Alyse stopped short. "Hey, it's you! The guy on the beach."

  "Good guess." The cowboy nodded and assessed her with appreciative eyes. Today she wore a red spandex halter that was contoured precisely to her firm breasts, even outlining the pert nipples. White cotton shorts clung to her slender hips and emphasized those long, tanned legs. As she stood on the wooden deck barefoot, her crimson-painted toenails shining, she looked damned sexy to him. A closer look, though, revealed a bruised shoulder and tiny bruises on her chin.

  Jake was instantly furious. Damn the bastard anyway!

  Controlling his emotions, he tipped his Stetson and smiled broadly. With his best Texas drawl Jake greeted her. "Morning, ma'am. Jake Bronson's the name. You're Alyse Skye, right?"

  She pushed her chestnut hair back behind one ear. "You can't walk on this wooden deck in those boots. You'll scratch it." She motioned nervously, then folded her arms. She felt his gaze burn all the way down to her toes.

  Jake looked down at the sassy brunette, then propped his butt against the bow pulpit rail and pulled his boots off. "There. Satisfied?"

  She glanced down at his bare feet with a wry smile. "You didn't have to take them off. You could have stepped back up on the dock."

  "It wouldn't suit my purpose. We couldn't talk in privacy there. Anyway, I wanted to get a closer look at your yacht. Nice craftsmanship." He gave the Skye Command the same arrogant once-over he'd given her.

  She looked at the man who obviously wasn't prepared to take no for an answer. His broad shoulders were encased in a tan khaki shirt. The breast pocket and collar were frayed, and the top two buttons were missing, revealing a golden triangle of chest. His jeans were well worn and imprinted with the shape of his lean hips and thighs.

  He was attractive in a strongly masculine sense, but not the type of man she was usually attracted to. Still, he appealed to her seamier side, to her wild imagination. The man, like his clothes, seemed well worn and was definitely sensuous.

  "She's a smooth-running craft. We just brought her down from San Diego."

  "Does it, uh, does she belong to you?"

  Alyse nodded. "Actually, to my brother."

  Jake gave a satisfied twist of his head. "Then not to that jerk you've been arguing with since you arrived."

  "How do you know about him?"

  "Told you. I've been watching." He reached out and touched her bruised shoulder with one gentle finger.

  Instinctively Alyse pulled back.

  Jake's brown eyes darkened with barely controlled rage. "The man who'd do that to you doesn't deserve any leniency. And this . . ." His large hand cupped her chin, and his thumb gently caressed her cheek.

  This time she didn't flinch. Something about his touch and his expression told her he wouldn't hurt her, even though the strength in that hand and arm was quite apparent.

  Alyse swallowed convulsively. "Why? Why have you been watching me, Jake Bronson?"

  He smiled wickedly and moved away from her before he lost all control. "You're a beautiful woman. I like what I see."

  "That—that's the most disgusting thing I've ever heard. What are you? A voyeur?"

  "Hardly." Jake chuckled as he walked around the side deck to join her in the aft cockpit. Hell, yes, he'd been a voyeur last night. When that bastard got rough with her, it was all he could do to keep his distance and watch. He glanced up at the railed fly bridge. "Actually the truth is, I need this boat."

  "What?" Alyse looked at him askance. "Are you crazy?"

  "I don't want it for sport, you understand. I need a way to get back to the States as soon as possible. And I'm prepared to pay handsomely for the trip."

  She folded her arms. "Let me get this straight, Mr. Bronson. You want to pay me to take you back to the States?"

  He gazed steadily at her. "No. I want to pay you to keep quiet about this trip. I'll do my share of work around here while we're heading back. And call me Jake. I have a feeling we're going to get to know each other very well."

  "No, Jake, we are not going to know each other well." She quivered involuntarily beneath his dark gaze. "If you're willing to pay for me to keep quiet, you must have something to hide. And I'm not getting mixed up with someone who's doing something illegal."

  "I'm not violating the law. But I do have something to hide, and it's worth a lot of money to me. Say, five thousand?"

  Alyse looked at him curiously. "Five thousand bucks?"

  "Make it ten. Look, you're coming out way ahead in this game. Now that your bunkmate has run out, you need someone to help you steer this baby home." He shrugged broad shoulders and s
pread one palm up. "I'm a steady worker, easy to get along with, and I promise not to lay a hand on you, which is more than you can say about that other one. So we work together. Help each other."

  "I don't need anyone to help me," she claimed stoutly. "Evan's here—"

  "He left this morning. Took the ferry over to Guaymas. From there he'll fly back to San Diego."

  She was stunned, but refused to show it. "Then there are plenty of others I could call. My father would send someone down here in a day. Hey, how do you know Evan left for good?"

  "I did some checking. And I'm pretty sure he won't be back. So what are you going to do? Surely you aren't going to call Daddy for help. You're a grown woman. Wouldn't you rather accept my offer and take the boat back by yourself?"

  Alyse stalled for time. She looked around the sleepy little harbor and raked her hand nervously through her hair. Jake's words reminded her of Evan's accusation that she'd never done anything by herself. Maybe it was time she did. "Why, that's the most bold, arrogant thing I've ever heard. Why would I accept your offer? I don't even know you."

  As much as she hated to admit it, this golden man was right. Already she knew that Evan could be brutal, and it was frightening. But could she trust this man? This absolute, total stranger.

  "Look, Alyse." Jake stuffed his large hands into his pockets and walked around the starboard deck. "I'll admit it sounds strange, but I'll explain it more fully to you. When you hear what I have to say, I think you'll feel differently."

  She glared at him. "For all I know you're transporting drugs. Or some other kind of contraband."

  "No. You'll have to take my word for it. Tell you what. Think about it. Then meet me tonight for dinner. I'll tell you the full story and supply you with any identification and whatever you need to know about me. I'm just in a tight spot down here in Mexico and need a little help getting out. That's as honest as I can be."