had left. Quincy Senior wasn’t Olivia, but he was trying to establish a better relationship between them.
“She’s the type of girl you marry,” Gunner said.
His father chuckled. “Oh, now I get it.”
“Get what?”
“This one’s serious.”
“No…I’m not sure about that.”
“Because…”
“We’re nothing alike. She’s not my type at all.”
“Something about her must have caught your eye. And it sounds as though, this time, it wasn’t her, uh, legs.”
Gunner couldn’t help the wry smile that twisted his lips. “Her legs aren’t bad, don’t get me wrong. But, no, it’s not the way she looks that really gets me.”
“You see something deeper in her?”
“I think so.”
“Then maybe it’s time for you to settle down.”
Gunner blew out a long sigh. “That’s a big step.”
“Don’t be afraid to take a chance, son.”
“I’m not afraid of taking chances.”
“I’m not talking about racing.”
Gunner remembered the panic that had come over him when April mentioned waiting. Maybe he was scared. Maybe he could risk his life but not his heart.
He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got to go. Everyone’s downstairs waiting for me.”
“Right. I don’t want to make you miss your friends.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for the advice.”
“I’m glad you called,” his father said—and strangely enough, so was Gunner.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
GUNNER NUDGED April as they sat on the back of the thirty-five-foot Bertram Sportfisher they’d chartered. “Did you see that?” he called above the boat’s motor.
April pulled her gaze away from the fishing line, which they’d been watching for several hours. There hadn’t been so much as a nibble. “What?”
He jerked his head toward the cabin, where her parents were supposed to be getting the lunches they’d brought, and he knew she turned just in time to see what he saw—her father steadied her mother when the boat rocked, then pulled Claire against him and kissed her on the neck.
“They’ve been doing that all morning,” he said.
“I know.” April shook her head. “Crazy, isn’t it? A week ago they wouldn’t even speak to each other.”
“I guess your matchmaking efforts are paying off.”
“Well—” she crossed her legs “—I don’t think I’ll box up her stuff just yet. I mean, I’ll be thrilled if they can work things out. More than thrilled. But I’m afraid—” she glanced worriedly at her parents again “—I don’t know. A lot has happened.”
Gunner brought his chair closer and draped his arm around April’s shoulders. All morning, he’d been trying to tell himself that there wasn’t anything special about her. But he didn’t believe it. His eyes followed her wherever she went, and he couldn’t help brushing against her or touching her at every opportunity. More telling was the fact that he didn’t care anymore about buying the business he’d wanted to devote himself to—probably because he wanted to devote himself to her.
The wind whipped her hair around April’s face as she leaned into him and smiled. “It’s so beautiful out here, isn’t it?”
He almost told her that nothing was as beautiful as she was, but quickly bit his tongue. What was wrong with him? He’d scarcely noticed the mild weather or the undulating ocean or anything else. He didn’t care if they caught a fish. He was falling in love with the last woman he’d ever dreamed he’d want. And he was doing it in a matter of days. If someone had told him this might happen, he would never have believed it.
But he was actually more worried about April’s feelings than his own. She was different from the other women he’d dated. His money and fame meant nothing to her. She’d said she trusted him enough to let herself care about him, but if she didn’t think he’d make a good husband, she wouldn’t allow their relationship to go very far. And he already knew what she thought of his reputation. How much of a chance did he realistically have with her?
“You’re frowning,” she said. “What are you thinking?”
“That life is unpredictable.”
“Why—”
Suddenly one of the lines tightened, and she cried out in excitement as Gunner jumped up to grab the fishing rod. They had something. He wasn’t sure it was a marlin, but he figured it was big.
Taking the rod out of its holder, he motioned for April to put on the harness that would keep her in the special swiveling chair so she could reel in their catch.
“Wow,” she said as he handed her the rod.
“Hang on tight,” he told her, then called out to the others. “We’ve got a bite!”
The boat had a crew of two. Both men came out to offer their advice, and Walt