Uncharted Waters Read Free Page B

ladies and gentlemen,” he said, stepping onto the concrete floating dock. “My name is Drew Evans and I’ll be your pilot and tour guide this morning. Does anyone have any questions before boarding?”
    â€œHey, mister, we gonna see any sharks today?” asked a bright-eyed boy about eight years old.
    Taking the clipboard from inside the plane, Drew smiled down at him, then at his parents. “There’s been a school of hammerheads hanging around just east of Duck Key. How about if I swing out that way and we’ll have a look?”
    â€œWow! Cool! Mom, did you hear that?”
    Grinning, enjoying the moment a hell of a lot more than he had a right to, Drew reached up under the wingand expressed a small amount of fuel from the preflight check reservoir into a clear plastic cup. He knew Jet A by color and smell and could now rest assured the correct fuel had been pumped into the tanks when he’d refueled yesterday afternoon.
    He’d just stepped off the pontoon after checking the aileron flaps, when a woman standing at the end of the dock caught his eye. He couldn’t see her features from where he stood, but her silhouette was starkly familiar. It was a silhouette he would never forget no matter how many years or miles he put between them. No matter how hard he tried.
    The sharp pang of recognition shook him, sent his heart hard against his ribs. Denial that it could be her rose inside him. There was no way she could have found him. Not that he’d been hiding, he assured himself. He’d simply moved on with his life. He’d hoped she had, too.
    A small boy, maybe four years old, stood at her side. Drew took in the blue cap, baggy shorts and skinny legs and tried not to remember, tried even harder not to feel. He’s the right age, a cruel little voice pointed out. And Drew was suddenly, utterly certain it was her.
    What in the holy hell was she doing in Emerald Cove?
    Thankful he was wearing sunglasses, he stared at the woman, trying hard not to let his shock and disbelief show. His eyes did a quick, dangerous sweep of her, taking in her tiny waist, the curve of her hips and athletic shape of her legs. She was casually dressed in khaki shorts, a sleeveless yellow blouse and sandals with flat heels. But Alison Myers didn’t look like a tourist. She didn’t blend into the crowd. She stood out, like a brilliant diamond surrounded by rough-cutstones. She sure as hell shouldn’t have looked sexy, but she did. Alison always looked sexy. And Drew had always felt like a son of a bitch for noticing.
    The old attraction tugged hard at him, a big fish snagged on a barbed hook and fighting for its life. It shouldn’t have surprised him that even after four years and the hell of losing his best friend nothing had changed. The reality of that disturbed him. He knew it was unreasonable, but he suddenly felt incredulous and a little angry that his hormones would betray him now.
    He’d tried desperately to forget her. To forget what he’d done, not only to her, but to her son. How could she do this to him now?
    She smiled and waved upon realizing he’d spotted her. Drew knew he should smile back at her but, God help him, he couldn’t. He couldn’t do a damn thing except stare at her and feel the memories tangle with dread and augment like a big sour ball in his gut. Her hair was shorter, but the color was the same sun-streaked blond. She’d cut it into a sleek style that swung like a curtain of silk against her jaw when she turned her head. She’d lost some weight—a little too much if he wanted to be truthful about it. Drew preferred more substantial women. The kind who wore tight jeans, a quick smile and had a weakness for pilots. Alison Myers had never been that kind of woman to him. But that had never mattered.
    Drew approached her, praying he was wrong, that the woman walking toward him with a smile on her face and a little boy at her side