chuckled, his eye catching the blue September sky and reflecting it back at her. “Bachelor’s Delight is fitted out with all the latest technology. It’s big, but it’s also designed for single-handed sailing.”
“Oh.”
“But if you’d please untie the mooring lines…” He gave her an utterly adorable look. The very fact that he could manage an angelic look out of a devilish face was disturbing. And he’d asked nicely this time.
She found herself smiling at him as a giddy weightless feeling overtook her. She handed him her big tote bag and hastened to do his bidding.
He didn’t unfurl the main sail until they were well into the channel. But once the sail billowed out, Bachelor’s Delight proved it was perfectly capable of riding through the chop. This boat wasn’t at all like her grandfather’s J-22. It was easily twice the size and had a big keel that kept it steady.
Topher also knew how to put the yacht through its paces. The wind was out of the southeast, so the ride to the island was all upwind. That meant he had to make many tacks to get there, and every time the boat turned on its zigzag course, the deck would shift, and Jessica would usually have to move from the leeward to the windward side of the boat.
She wasn’t a master sailor, but she’d done enough sailing with PopPop to realize that Topher knew how to read the wind. Someone less skilled would have taken much longer to make the transit from harbor to island. When the lighthouse finally came into view off the port gunwales, she asked, “Why didn’t you sail in the regatta?”
“I didn’t have a crew. And for a race, I would have needed a navigator and someone to help handle the spinnaker.”
“I’m sure you could have found someone down at the yacht club.”
He didn’t respond to her comment. Instead he shouted, “Ready to come about.”
“Ready,” she answered. The boat turned, the mainsail boom swinging from port to starboard, while the deck shifted under her. She once again moved from the leeward to the windward side of the boat.
“You didn’t answer my question,” she said.
“The truth is, I didn’t participate because I would have had to register back in July. And I didn’t have a sailboat then.”
“What?” Her squeaky voice conveyed her surprise.
He gave her a wry grin. “I bought Bachelor’s Delight right before I decided to return to Magnolia Harbor, about six weeks ago.”
“Really?” Her cheeks grew hot even in the chilly breeze.
“It used to belong to one of my business partners,” Topher said, his gaze alight with humor. “I had originally planned to live on it while I built the new house. But it’s kind of small, and the walk from the slip to the convenience store was long. So I accepted Ashley’s offer to rent Rose Cottage for the foreseeable future.”
“So the boat’s decor is…” Jessica let her voice trail off.
This time he laughed out loud. “No. I didn’t choose all that black leather or the red velvet in the captain’s cabin.”
“Oh no.” She buried her hands in her face. “I thought—”
“Yes, I know what you thought. I saw your first set of drawings.”
* * *
Was it the wind or a blush that turned her cheeks red? Maybe a little of both. He got no satisfaction from her discomfort. If she’d misunderstood, it had been his fault.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I realized what had happened the moment I saw your first set of drawings. I didn’t blame you for the mistake.”
Her cheeks got a little redder, and he had a moment of hope. Was it possible for her to forgive him?
Not for starting a rumor. He hadn’t done that. But he was guilty of not thinking about the consequences of repeating all that talk. And he certainly bore some responsibility for not stopping the ugly locker room conversations of guys like Caleb Tate. He hadn’t shown any leadership, and he’d been the captain of the team.
“I’m sorry. I jumped to a conclusion, didn’t I?” she said. “And it’s kind of unforgivable, given my history.”
“No. It’s easily forgiven.”
Something softened in her gaze, and he wondered if she would ever reciprocate the forgiveness. He wanted it more than he’d wanted anything in a long time.
Dammit. What would it feel like to have her in his life? Not just as his architect, but as…
He wouldn’t let himself finish the thought. A damaged man couldn’t afford that kind of thinking.
He broke eye contact and concentrated on sailing. When he’d