The Invitation (Matchmaker Trilogy) (5 page)

It was obvious that the niece wasn’t thrilled with the looks of the sloop. What had she expected? The
Brittania?
If so, he decided as his eyes skimmed the gloomy interior of the
Golden Echo,
she was in for an even ruder awakening than she’d already had.

Not that the boat bothered him; he’d sailed in far worse. This time around, though, he could have asked for more space. This time around he’d have preferred the
Brittania,
himself. At least then he’d have been able to steer clear of the women.

Though he didn’t move an inch, he grew instinctively alert when he heard footsteps approaching the gangway. Samson was in the lead, his booted feet appearing several seconds before the two suitcases. “The
Golden Echo
was refurbished ten years ago,” he was saying, his voice growing louder as his head came into view. “The galley is quite modern and the cabins comfortable—ah, Noah, right where I left you.” Stepping aside, he set down the bags to give an assisting hand to each of the women in turn.

Noah didn’t have to marvel at his uncle’s style. Though a bit eccentric at times, Samson was a gentleman through and through, which was fine as long as he didn’t expect the same standard from his nephew. Noah spent his working life straddling the lines between gentleman, diplomat and czar; he intended to spend his vacation answering to no one but himself.

“Noah, I’d like you to meet Victoria Lesser,” Samson said. He knew better than to ask his nephew to rise. Noah was intimidating enough when seated; standing he was formidable. Given the dark mood he was in at the moment, intimidation was the lesser of the evils.

Noah nodded toward Victoria, careful to conceal the slight surprise he felt. Victoria had not only sounded lively, she looked lively. What had Samson said—that she was in her early fifties? She didn’t look a day over forty. She wore a bright yellow, oversize shirt, a pair of white slacks with the cuffs rolled to mid-calf, and sneakers, and her features were every bit as youthful. Her hair was an attractive walnut shade and thick, loosely arranged into a high, short ponytail that left gentle wisps to frame the delicate structure of her face. Her skin was flawless, firm-toned and lightly made up, if at all. Her eyes twinkled, and her smile was genuine.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Noah,” she said every bit as sincerely. “Thank you for letting us join you on this trip. I’ve done many things in my day, but I’ve never been on a treasure hunt before. It sounds as though it’ll be fun.”

Lured by the subtle melody of her voice, Noah almost believed her. Then he shifted his gaze to the young woman who’d followed her down the steps and took back the thought.

“Shaye Burke,” Samson was saying by way of introduction, “Noah VanBaar.”

Again Noah nodded his head, this time a trifle more stiffly. Shaye Burke was a looker; he had to give her that. Slightly taller than her aunt, she was every bit as slender. Her white jeans were pencil thin, her blousy, peach-colored T-shirt rolled at the sleeves and knotted chicly at the waist. Her skin, too, was flawless, but it was pale; she’d skillfully applied makeup to cover shadows beneath her eyes and add faint color to her cheeks.

Any similarities to her aunt had already ended. Shaye’s deep auburn hair was anchored at the nape of her neck in a sedate twist from which not a strand escaped. The younger woman’s lips were set, her nose marked with tension, and the eyes that met his held a shadow of rebellion.

She didn’t want to be here. It was written all over her face. Adding that to the comments he’d overheard earlier, he begrudged her presence more than ever. If Shaye Burke did anything to spoil his uncle’s adventure, he vowed, he would personally even the score.

Samson, who’d sensed the instant animosity between Noah and Shaye, spoke up quickly. “If you ladies will come this way, I’ll show you to your cabin. Once we’ve deposited your things there, we can walk around more freely.”

Short of turning and fleeing, Shaye had no choice but to follow Victoria, who followed Samson through the narrow passageway. Her shoulders were ramrod straight, held that way by the force of a certain man’s gaze piercing her back.

Noah. Noah and Samson. The VanBaar family, she decided, had a thing about biblical names. But her image of
that
Noah was one of kindness;
this
Noah struck her as being quite different. Sitting in the shadows as he’d been, she hadn’t been able to see much beyond gloom and a glower. She knew one thing, though: She hadn’t expected to have to protect her aunt, but if Noah VanBaar so much as dared do anything to dampen Victoria’s spirits, he’d have to answer to her.

*   *   *

S
AMSON LED
V
ICTORIA AND
S
HAYE
to the cabin they’d be sharing, then backtracked to show them the salon, the galley and the captain’s quarters in turn. Noah was nowhere in sight during the backtracking, and Shaye was grateful for that. There was precious little else to be grateful for.

“We do have our own bathroom,” Victoria pointed out when they’d returned to their cabin to unpack. She lowered herself to Shaye’s side of the double bed that occupied three quarters of the small cabin’s space. “I know that it’s not quite what we expected, but if we clear our minds of those other expectations, we’ll do fine.”

Shaye’s lips twisted wryly. “Grin and bear it?”

“Make the most of it.” She jabbed at the bedding with a delicate fist. “The mattress feels solid enough.” Her eye roamed the trapezoid-shaped room. “And we could have been stuck with a V-berth.”

“This bed is bolted to the wall. I thought Samson said it’d be a calm trip.”

“This one will be, but we have no idea what other waters the
Golden Echo
has sailed.”

“If only she were somewhere else—without us.”

“Shaye…”

“And where do we go to relax?”

“The salon.”

“For privacy?” She was thinking of the dagger-edged gaze that had followed her earlier, and wasn’t sure whether she’d be able to endure it as a constant.

Victoria’s mind was still on the salon. “There are comfortable chairs, a sofa—”

“And a distinctly musty smell.”

“That’s the smell of the sea. It adds atmosphere.”

Shaye snorted. “That kind of atmosphere I can do without.” She knew she was being unfair; after all, the cottage she’d booked in the Berkshires very probably had its own musty smell, and she normally wasn’t that fussy. But her bad mood seemed to feed on itself and on every tiny fault she could find with the boat.

“Come on, sweetheart,” Victoria coaxed as she rose to open her suitcase. “We’ll have fun. I promise.”

Shaye’s discouraged gaze wandered around the cabin, finally alighting on the row of evenly spaced, slit-like windows. “At least there are portholes. Clever, actually. They’re built into the carving of the hull. I didn’t notice them from the dock.”

“And they’re open. The air’s circulating. And it’s relatively bright.”

“All the better to see the simplicity of the decor,” Shaye added tongue-in-cheek. She watched her aunt unpack in silence for several minutes before tipping her head to the side and venturing a wary, “Victoria?”

“Uh-huh?”

“How much did you really know about all this?”

Victoria stacked several pairs of shorts in a pile, then straightened. “About all what?”

“This trip.”

“Haven’t we discussed this before?”

“But something’s beginning to smell.”

“I told you,” Victoria responded innocently. “It’s the sea.”

“Not smell as in brine. Smell as in rat. Did you have any idea at all that there’d be just four of us?”

“Of course not.”

“It never occurred to you that Samson would be ‘precious’ and that I’d be left with his nephew?”

Victoria gave a negligent shrug and set the shorts in the nearby locker. “You heard what Samson said. Noah’s joining us was a last-minute decision. I mentioned this trip to you nearly a month ago.”

But Shaye remained skeptical. “Samson didn’t say exactly how ‘last-minute’ the decision was. Are you sure you’re not trying to pair me up with Noah?”

“Would I do that—”

“She asks a little too innocently. You did it with Deirdre Joyce.”

“I thought you approved.”

“In that case I did—do. Neil Hersey is a wonderful man.” Shaye had never forgotten that it was Neil, with his legal ability and compassion, who had come to the rescue when Shannon had been arrested.

Victoria was grateful that Shaye knew nothing of her role in bringing Garrick and Leah together. The less credence given the word
matchmaker,
the better, she decided. “Noah VanBaar may be every bit as wonderful.”

Shaye coughed comically. “Try again.”

“He may be!”

“Then you did do it on purpose?”

Victoria felt only a smidgen of guilt as she propped her hands on her hips in a stance of exasperation. “Really, Shaye. How could I have done it on purpose when I had no idea Noah would be along?”

“Then you intended to fix me up with Samson’s old-fart friend?”

“I did not! I truly, truly expected that we’d be only two more members of a larger group.”

Sensing a certain truth to that part of Victoria’s story at least, Shaye sighed. “If only there
were
a larger group—”

“So you could fade into the woodwork? I wouldn’t have let you do that even if there were fifty others on board this boat.” She lifted a pair of slacks and nonchalantly shook them out. “What did you think of Noah, by the way?”

“I thought he was rude, by the way. He could have stood up when we were introduced. He could have said something. Do you realize the man didn’t utter a single word?”

“Neither did you at that point.”

“That’s because I chose silence over saying something unpleasant.”

“Maybe that’s what he was doing. Maybe he’s as tired as you are. Maybe he, too, had other plans before Samson called him.”

“I wish he’d stuck to his guns.”

“Like you did?”

Bowing her head, Shaye pressed the throbbing spot between her eyes. “I gave in because you’re my aunt and my friend and because I love you.”

Draping an arm around Shaye’s shoulders, Victoria hugged her close. “You know how much that means to me, sweetheart. And it may be that Noah feels the same about Samson. Cheer up. He won’t be so bad. How can he be, with an uncle like that?”

*   *   *

W
HEN
V
ICTORIA LEFT
to go on deck, Shaye stayed behind to unpack. But there was only so much unpacking to do, and only so much to look at within the close cabin walls. She realized she was stalling, and that annoyed her, then hardened her. If Noah VanBaar thought he could cower her with his dark and brooding looks, he was in for a surprise.

Emboldened, she made her way topside to find Samson drawing up the gangplank. A powerboat hovered at the bow of the
Golden Echo,
prepared to tow her clear of the pier. At Samson’s call, Noah cast off the lines, the powerboat accelerated and they were off.

When the other three gathered at the bow, Shaye took refuge at the stern. Mounting the few steps to the ancient version of a cockpit, she bypassed the large wooden wheel to rest against the transom and watch the shore slowly but steadily recede.

It was actually a fine day for a sail, she had to admit. The breeze feathered her face, cooling what might otherwise have been heated rays of the sun. But she felt a wistfulness as her gaze encompassed more and more of the Colombian shore. Given her druthers, she’d have stayed in Barranquilla and waited for Victoria’s return. No, she insisted, given her druthers, she’d be working in Philadelphia, patiently waiting for her August break.

But that was neither here nor there. She was on the
Golden Echo,
soon to be well into the Caribbean, and there was no point bemoaning her fate. She had to see the bright side, as Victoria was doing. She’d brought books along, and she’d spotted cushions in the salon that could be used as padding in lieu of a deck chair. And if she worked to keep her presence as inconspicuous as possible, she knew she’d do all right.

“Having second thoughts?”

The low, taunting baritone came from behind her. She didn’t have the slightest doubt as to whose voice it was.

“What’s to have second thoughts about?” she asked quietly. “This is my vacation. I’m looking forward to it.”

“Are you always uptight when you’re looking forward to something?”

“I’m not uptight.”

He moved forward until he, too, leaned against the wood. “No?”

Shaye was peripherally aware of his largeness and did her best to ignore it. “No.”

“Then why are your knuckles white on that rail?”

“Because if the boat lurches, I don’t want to be thrown.”

“She’s called a sloop, and she doesn’t lurch.”

“Sway, tilt, heel—whatever the term is.”

“Not a sailor, I take it?”

“I’ve sailed.”

“Sunfish? Catboat?”

“Actually, I’ve spent time on twelve-meters, but as a guest, not a student of nautical terminology.”

“A twelve-meter is a far cry from the
Golden Echo.
”

“Do tell.”

“You’re not pleased with her?”

“She’s fine,” Shaye answered diplomatically.

“But not up to your usual standards?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re thinking it. Tell me, if you’re used to something faster and sleeker, what are you doing here?”

Shaye bit off the sharp retort that was on the tip of her tongue and instead answered calmly, “As I said, I’m on vacation.”

“Why here?”

“Because my aunt invited me to join her.”

“And you were thrilled to accept?”

She did turn to him then and immediately wished she hadn’t. He towered over her, a good six-four to her own five-six, and there was an air of menace about him. She took a deep breath to regain her poise, then spoke slowly and as evenly as possible.

“No, I was not thrilled to accept. Sailing off in the facsimile of a pirate ship on a wild goose chase for a treasure that probably doesn’t exist is not high on my list of ways I’d like to spend my vacation.”