Donovans 01 - Amber Beach

rumble offered sympathy.
    She needed it. Her oldest brother could have taught tight lips to a clam, the cops thought her favorite brother was a murderous crook, said favorite brother had vanished . . . and she had just signed up to learn how to fish.
    A complete disaster all around.
    “Ready to go look at the boat?” Jake asked.
    “Why not? Everything else has gone wrong.”
    “Your enthusiasm bubbles over like a plugged toilet.”
    “Understandable. I’m sooo excited.”
    Black eyebrows climbed. “You did advertise for a fishing guide, correct?”
    She took a deep breath. “Yes. Sorry. I’m a bit worn out.”
    “You look like you could use a cup of coffee,” he agreed. “Does the galley work on your boat?”
    “I think so.”
    “You think so.” He shook his head. “Have you owned the boat long?”
    “No. My brother . . . left it to me.”
    The explanation sounded lame even to Honor. She was terrified of small boats and hated fishing, both of which Jake would soon find out. Then he would wonder why she wanted to learn how to run a small boat and go fishing.
    Maybe he would accept masochism as an excuse.
    “I . . .” She swallowed and tried again. “It’s still painful. I’d rather not talk about it.”
    Jake wasn’t surprised. No matter how innocent Honor looked, she was hiding a lot.
    But then, so was he.
    “C’mon,” he said. “Let’s check out your boat.”

2
    O FF TO THE southwest, a bank of clouds lay like a feather comforter on the mountains of the Olympic Peninsula. Overhead, the sun temporarily ruled the sky. The water was like fine blue satin, still and glistening. Only the secret, powerful flow of tidal currents disturbed the calm surface of the strait.
    Honor hesitated at the head of the gravel path leading down the rocky bluff to the beach fifteen feet below. The air was cool, clean, scented with fir. The silence was a balm to her unsettled thoughts. She really didn’t want to ruin the small peace she felt by going fishing. On the other hand, anything was better than sitting around and worrying about Kyle. She started toward the dock with a determined stride.
    Jake didn’t notice Honor’s hesitation. He went down the path, onto the dock, and stepped into the open stern of the Tomorrow . Barely pausing in his stride, he popped open a small compartment on the stern gunwale and cranked the dial around to the on position for both batteries.
    When he straightened, he realized that he was still alone on the boat. He turned to see what had happened to his reluctant fishersan.
    Honor stood on the dock eyeing the Tomorrow the way a suspicious cat eyes a full bathtub.
    “Something wrong?” he asked.
    “It’s moving.”
    He glanced quickly around. Both the bow and stern lines were securely tied to the fore and aft dock cleats.
    “What do you mean?” he asked. “It’s tied off at both ends.”
    “Then why is it bouncing around?”
    Jake looked at the deck of the Tomorrow . The boat was swaying slightly as it adjusted to his weight and the gentle slapping of salt water disturbed by a breeze.
    “Bouncing around,” he said neutrally. “Honor, have you ever been on a boat before?”
    “Of course.”
    “When?”
    “The last time I took a ferry to Vancouver Island.”
    “Doesn’t count. Those ferries are almost as big as aircraft carriers.”
    “That’s why I like them. They don’t bounce.”
    “You’d be surprised what they’ll do in a good wind.”
    She ignored him.
    “Have you ever been on a small boat before?” he asked.
    “Once.”
    The look on her face said that she hadn’t enjoyed the experience.
    “What happened?” he asked.
    “Lawe and Justin—two of my four brothers—took me fishing. A wind came up and the boat bucked like a rodeo bull. I had to lie in the bottom with the fish to keep from going overboard.”
    “How old were you?”
    “Thirteen.”
    “Did you go out fishing again after that?”
    “Do I look like a masochist?”
    “For all I know you’re wearing a hair shirt underneath that floppy sweat suit.”
    She whipped up her black sweatshirt, revealing a tourmaline-green sweater that fit very well.
    “Regulation cotton,” she said. “And my sweat suit isn’t floppy. It’s comfortable.”
    Hastily Jake looked away from the sleek torso Honor had so unexpectedly revealed. Beneath sweats that were big enough for a man his size, his employer was built just the way he liked women. Not too skinny. Not too fat. Not too big. Not too