Now that she was full-on sprinting across the uneven wooden planks it was plain to see the fat slice of green-black ocean water between the boat and the dock. The man in the puffy jacket stood alone on the aft deck, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting something. But it was lost in the brisk wind that stirred up the choppy waves. The forecast had been clear all week long, but now the sky looked leaden and threatening for an outdoor wedding. Still, predicting rain in Washington State in October was like predicting bears in the forest or alligators in Florida. An ever-present threat.
As she closed in on the end of the dock there was a gap of about three feet between the boat and solid ground. On impulse, she chucked her luggage across the gap and took four long strides back to give herself a running start. This was obviously an insane idea; she was going to end up splattered against the side of a luxury boat. But her computer was in that suitcase, her life's work stored on its hard drive. She wouldn't jump for anyone except Loretta.
"Look out!" she shouted at the man, who had caught her suitcase in an impressive maneuver, obscuring his face. "Clear the deck!"
She sprinted down the dock and leapt across the gap. Her feet pedaled and her arms windmilled, and she had a split-second realization that she'd been absolutely right; she wasn't going to make it. She was going to hit her head and drown three feet off the docks. At least she'd have a decent excuse for missing the wedding and her deadline. Her own accidental murder.
But then a pair of hands grabbed her and pulled, helping her clear the last foot as she crashed into the man. They both went tumbling back on the sleek deck, her suitcase skittering away. He curled up with a painful grunt, the movement pulling her in tighter against him.
"I'm so sorry," she gasped, struggling to catch her breath after that Olympic-level long jump. "I didn't mean to crash into...Jake?"
Her eyes went wide, heart beating in double time as the man beneath her winced out a tight smile and spoke with that gorgeous, buttery Australian accent of his. "Still know how to make an entrance, don't you, Katey cakes?"
CHAPTER TWO
"Jake," she said again, at a loss. Jake Hawkins, former pro surfer turned elite travel guide. Once the most important person in the world to her, not that she had ever told him so. Of all the places she'd imagined seeing him over the last two years—and there had been plenty of imaginings, more fantasy conversations than was probably healthy—the back deck of a boat on its way to Hempstead Island for her ex-fiancé's wedding was not one of them.
"I know you'll take this personally, but you're not exactly a sack of feathers," Jake grunted, reminding her that she was still sprawled out on top of him, crushing him with her clumsy weight.
"Oh shit, your back," she said, clambering off and raising a distinct oof out of him. "Oh god, Jake, I'm so sorry. Let me help."
"I've got it," Jake said, rolling to one side before going very still. "Actually, no I don't. Give me a minute."
"We should get you inside," Kate said, though she couldn't quite bring herself to reach for him just then. It wasn't like she didn't have plenty of practice helping him in the past, when the injury that brought his pro-surfing career to an abrupt end caused him so much pain he couldn't move. But that had been before the incident, before Kate had sworn never to try to touch him again.
He was supposed to be in Borneo this weekend; she'd checked his company's website to make sure. She'd also called her mom and not-so-subtly confirmed it through his aunt. Not to mention she couldn't imagine Spencer actually agreeing to invite Jake to his wedding. So what was Jake doing here?
A window slammed open above them and somebody stuck their head out from where Kate presumed all the steering equipment was (hmm, maybe DanSeaLife4376 had been right to call out her incompetence). "Everybody all right down there?" the man shouted. "What in hell was that?"
Kate wondered the same thing. "You were leaving me behind."
"They only told me there'd be one last person, so once he was on board I figured we were good. You two better get inside. We've got a real bluster coming up. I'll try to keep it as smooth as possible, but it looks like we're in for a rough ride."
So the ship's captain hadn't been expecting Jake, either. Interesting. Jake had recovered enough to stand, staggering his way toward the sliding doors and the welcoming embrace of what looked like a very luxurious couch beyond. Kate retrieved her suitcase, giving Jake enough time to shuck his jacket and beanie, sink into the couch, and put his feet up on the low coffee table loaded with a charcuterie plate and a bottle of champagne.
