Heart's Passage Read online

  "Oh yeah," Paul replied. "Could be a long three weeks I'm thinking."

  Jo grinned. "Well, at least we won't have to worry about going on any damn-fool rescue missions. Not like that last mob we had."

  The trio laughed as they remembered the group of French businessmen and their wives who had careened around the Whitsunday Passage on their own like some kind of demented pinball until, finally, they'd run aground way out on Heart Reef. It had taken a full day to refloat the yacht, not to mention the 10 days' worth of repairs.

  About half an hour later, Jo and her crew were ready to sail. She'd filed the course she planned to follow for the day, called the office to double-check for any last-minute changes, and checked all the safety equipment, including the radio and flares.

  "All right," she said. "Let's go."

  She fired up the engine while Paul and Jenny moved about on deck readying the mainsail and smaller foresail for the moment they hit open water. Paul pulled up the anchor and Jo slowly maneuvered the yacht under power into the channel leading out of Shute Harbor. The wind picked up a little as they rounded the small islet at the mouth of the port.

  Ten minutes later Jo killed the engine and held the boat up into the wind as the two deckies manned the winches and hoisted the mainsail. She bore away slightly till the sails filled and they were off on the first of what would be at least three tacks— changes of direction in which the yacht sailed at an angle to the wind in order to progress upwind—before they could reach Hamilton Island. She settled back in the cockpit, her right foot steadying the wheel.

  Paul's right, she thought, as she watched the crewman cleaning up the deck, stowing the sail covers and making fine adjustments to the sails. This could either be the easiest of assignments or a real pain in the backside.

  She was due to meet the passengers at 1 pm, more than enough time for them to reach the Hamilton marina and put the finishing touches on the Seawolf. For now she leaned back and just enjoyed the sailing. They were doing seven knots, about average for the boat.

  Jo glanced around. It was a pretty smooth sailing, though once they were out of the shadow of Long Island the chop would pick up a bit.

  Not a bad way to make a living, she grinned as she took in the idyllic surroundings. Not for the first time, she sent a silent blessing to the young girl in a damp alley who had changed her life. Wherever your soul is now, kid, I hope it's at peace.

  "Ready to tack," she called about 20 minutes later. Jenny scurried up from below and joined Paul on the winches. "Tacking," Jo yelled as she swung the prow of the boat first into the breeze and then away again on the starboard side. The huge boom swung across the boat, both deckies ducking under it and working the winches hard to trim the mainsail as it refilled.

  "Nice one, Skipper," grinned Paul at the smoothness of the tack. There was nothing more damaging to mast and rigging than a violent tack that slammed the heavy boom hard from side to side. Jo had always had a gentle touch.

  She grinned back and settled in for a good morning's sail.

  The view from Cadie's hotel room balcony was spectacular. From where she was she looked out over the crowded Hamilton Island marina and away to a perfect cloudless sky and blue-green ocean beyond the mouth of the small harbor. She inhaled deeply and savored the smell of the sea and the close heat of the day, listening to the sounds floating up from the boats and dockside stores.

  For the past 24 hours, Cadie had absorbed her new surroundings like a sponge. While Naomi and the others had spent the time sleeping off their jetlag, she had found herself wandering the resort and its surrounds, talking to the hotel staff and finding her feet after the long journey. She felt wired.

  Hamilton Island was one of the first major resorts built in the Whitsundays. Its high-rise hotel and sprawling dockside shopping and eating precinct were the exception in the islands. Most of the other resorts were low-rise affairs, blended into their tropical environments. But Hamilton was also the biggest and busiest, thanks to the area's only airport. It also boasted a large marina that hosted one of Australia's most popular yachting regattas each year.

  Cadie gazed out over the forest of masts in front of her. One of them, she knew, was the boat on which she and the others would be spending the next three weeks. She tried to guess which one it would be.

  One in particular caught her eye. It was just pulling into its berth. Long and sleek, the yacht seemed—to her unpracticed eye at least—to be about the right length. She watched the crew moving around, stowing sails and other equipment. A blond man leapt onto the pontoon and wrapped two mooring ropes around the bollards at each end of the berth.

  A tall, dark-haired woman was at the helm. Even from this distance Cadie could see she was stunning. There was an aura of confidence about her as she shouted orders to the crew and deftly gentled the boat into place. Unexpectedly, the woman turned and stared up at the hotel, and for an instant Cadie thought she was looking straight at her.

  But that can't be. Not from so far away, surely? Nevertheless she found herself staring back and wondering at the slight tingling sensation she could feel at the back of her neck. Wow.

  The dark-haired woman on the yacht broke the connection first to answer a question from one of her deckhands, and Cadie found herself hoping that was indeed the Cheswick Marine boat.

  Time would tell. She and the others were due to meet the crew of their yacht in just under an hour. She turned back into the hotel room, and the cool of the air conditioning. Naomi was repacking her luggage, which was already scattered after just one day in the hotel. Cadie flopped down into an armchair and watched with amusement.

  "Aren't you going to pack?" Naomi asked.

  "Already did," Cadie replied. "I only brought the one bag, remember?"

  Naomi grunted and continued to try and wedge her clothes into the already bulging case.

  "Why don't you leave some of that in storage here at the hotel, Nay?" Cadie suggested. "We're going sailing, not on a diplomatic mission."

  "I'm not spending every night on a boat, Arcadia," Naomi grumbled, stuffing yet another pair of shoes in. "There are resorts and restaurants and hotels all over this area, aren't there?"

  "Sure," Cadie replied.

  "So, a girl needs something to wear." Naomi grunted as she finally managed to close the bag.

  Boy, that was weird, Jo thought as she turned to help Paul tidy up the furled mainsail around the tied-down boom. She had had the uncanny feeling that someone was watching her as they'd berthed. A glance up to the hotel had revealed a woman staring down at her. Blonde, sweet figure, very cute as far as she could tell. But it was the eyes that had held her attention. She couldn't tell their color from this distance, but they had held her gaze almost hypnotically.

  She shivered slightly at the memory.

  She couldn't have been looking right at me, could she? Jo shook her head, trying to focus on what she was doing.

  She stopped and took a look around the deck. The Seawolf was looking better than it would at any time over the next three weeks. Boaties, used to living and working in confined spaces, were expert at stowing their lives away. Tourists, on the other hand, were another kettle of fish.

  "Are we ready to be boarded?"

  Jenny stood at the top of the companionway, hands on hips. "Ready as we'll ever be at this end, Skipper," she said.

  "Paul?"

  "Bring on the loopies, Jo-Jo."

  Jo rolled her eyes at his use of the local derogatory term for tourists. "Get it out of your system now, guys. It's customer service and tugging the forelock from now on in," she warned.

  Both deckies snapped her a mock salute. "Aye aye, Captain," they chorused in unison.

  "Oh, shut up."

  Jo jumped deftly onto the pontoon and started the walk up to the hotel lobby where she was to meet the senator's party. Along the way she was greeted by several acquaintances and she answered them cheerily as she climbed the hill. By the time she reached the hotel she had her game face on. She'd l
earned over the years that, while Americans found the Aussie laidback style of doing things somewhat charming, they also expected the very best in service, and usually they wanted it yesterday. Finding the balance between the two had always been a bit of a battle for Jo. In her early days as a deckhand she'd told more than one customer just where they could shove their strawberry daiquiri.

  She smiled at the memory. Ron had been very patient with her. God knows why.

  Jo caught sight of the hotel's head concierge and walked in his direction.

  "Miss Madison! So good to see you again." The top-hatted and tailed man took her hand in a double-handed shake and beamed at her.

  "Hello, George. It's good to see you, too. How's business?"

  "Always on the go, miss, you know how it is. What can we do for you today?"

  "I'm picking up a party of eight. I was hoping to borrow two of your bellhops and a couple of your jumbo golf carts."

  "No problem, no problem at all. Now, what was the party's name?" George bustled around his desk and began issuing orders left and right.

  "Senator Silverberg," Jo told him.

  "Ah yes," he said. "I think you'll find they are already waiting for you in the lobby."

  Jo groaned. She was 15 minutes early and still they were waiting for her. I can't win. Ah well. Showtime.

  "Okay, George, thanks. Give me five minutes to get them organized and we'll be right out, yeah?"

  "Consider it done, Miss Madison. See you shortly."

  Jo straightened her shirt and took a deep breath, then stepped through the sliding glass doors into the spacious lobby of the hotel. The senator's group wasn't difficult to spot. The Americans were clustered around the bar, surrounded by a mountain of luggage.

  Figures, thought Jo. God forbid they should read the recommendations about what to bring on a sailing holiday. She pressed on towards the group, counting only seven. The senator stuck out like a sore thumb. She was louder than the others and was clearly the center of the conversation. Besides, she just looks.. Jo searched for the word... political. Time to bite the bullet.

  "Senator Silverberg?"

  The woman turned at the question. "That's me. What can I do for you?"

  Jo stuck out a hand in greeting. "It's more a case of what I can do for you, Senator," she said, summoning her most winning and professional smile. "I'm Jo Madison from Cheswick Marine. I'm your sail guide for the next three weeks."

  Naomi looked the taller woman up and down with obvious meaning and her face took on the kind of leer that made Jo's skin crawl. "Really? Well," the senator drawled, "things are looking up." She held on to Jo's hand just a little too long. "And I can certainly think of a few things you could do for me, Miss Madison."

  Oh, I don't like her at all, Jo thought as she tried not to snap her hand back. "Please, call me Jo," she said instead. She looked around at the other members of the party. "If you're all ready, I have some transport waiting outside to take us down to the boat where we'll settle you into your berths and give you the tour before you decide where you'd like to go this afternoon."

  "We're just waiting on my partner," Naomi said. "She's in the gift shop, picking up a newspaper or something."

  "I'm here now," came a soft voice from behind Jo.

  Jo turned and was immediately caught by the most beautiful pair of sea-green eyes she had ever seen. Wow.

  Wow, Cadie thought. Those are the bluest eyes I've ever seen. Their gazes locked for long seconds and the world contracted around them. It was like she and the tall skipper were wrapped in insulation. Everything else seemed muffled and fuzzy and suddenly unimportant.

  Jo realized she had taken the woman's hand to shake it and hadn't let go. The blonde's smaller hand just seemed to fit in hers and she found herself softly stroking the back of this complete stranger's hand with the pad of her thumb.

  "Umm, h-hello," Jo said wittily.

  Ohhh, gorgeous voice, thought Cadie. "Hello yourself," she replied, trying to ignore the tendrils of heat from whatever the woman was doing with her thumb. "I'm Cadie Jones."

  The senator broke the spell by bustling over to Cadie and throwing her arm around her shorter partner's shoulders. "This is Jo, um, what was it? Madison?"

  Jo nodded, still unable to tear her eyes away from Cadie's. What the hell is going on here?

  "That ought to be easy to remember," smiled Cadie. "I was born in Madison, Wisconsin."

  Jo grinned back, relaxing a little as she took in the magical way Cadie's nose wrinkled when she smiled. How cute is that? she thought.

  God, she has a beautiful smile. Her whole face lights up, thought Cadie.

  Jo regained her senses and set about organizing the bellhops to carry the luggage onto one of the golf carts she had requested from the concierge. She made sure everyone was seated comfortably in the other cart. Cadie took her place just behind the driver's seat, and not surprisingly, Naomi sat down next to her, putting her arm possessively around her shoulder.

  Oh God, please don't let her be like this for the entire trip, the blonde silently implored the universe. She's going to drive me nuts if she stays attached at the hip for three weeks. Cadie watched as their intriguing sail guide slipped into the seat in front of her.

  Jo finally had everyone settled. She couldn't help noticing the senator's firm hold on Miss Jones. I wonder if I caused that, or is this just normal behavior for a senator? She let out the hand brake and nudged the golf cart forward, towards the gentle slope that led to the marina. It never ceases to amaze me how two people you would never guess were partners can end up together. She glanced over her shoulder at the couple, and met a pair of distinctly unfriendly senatorial brown eyes. Jo took a deep breath. Oh, this is going to be a hell of a boat ride.

  Chapter Three

  One hectic hour later everyone finally had a chance to relax. Luggage had been stowed, some had been sent back to the hotel for storage, much to the crew's amusement, and everyone had been assigned a berth. The senator and Miss Jones had taken one of the two aft double berths, while the two attorneys, Therese and Sarah, had grabbed the other. Toby and Jason, and Larissa and Kelli had been left with the two smaller doubles forward, leaving the two single berths in the forepeak for the three crewmembers to negotiate between them.

  Jo watched quietly as the passengers made themselves comfortable around the cockpit and aft deck. Jenny handed around a tray loaded with glasses of ice-cold champagne and nibble-sized hors d'oevres of prawns and caviar.

  It's been an interesting hour, Jo reflected as she sat herself down on the roof of the companionway, her legs dangling down into the cockpit. She could already tell who was going to have fun and who were going to be the wet blankets.

  Miss Jones—she kept being drawn back to those wonderful green eyes—was clearly determined to have a great time, and Jo was sure she would be up for anything. The two men, earnest, bespectacled types who looked disconcertingly alike, were also going to be fine. They were already bouncing with excitement and enthusiasm.

  The jury is still out on the two attorneys, Jo thought. But the senator and the two other women are definitely the downers of the group. So far nothing had been big enough, luxurious enough, or interesting enough for that trio. And the senator was still sticking to her partner like glue, casting Jo more than one suspicious glance since she'd picked them up from the hotel.

  Jo sighed inwardly. If she's going to be like this just over one little hello handshake then it's going to be a very long three weeks. Just because you could have fried an egg on that handshake... So decided not to let her thoughts wander too far down that path.

  She watched as everyone settled into their places.

  "Okay, well, officially, welcome everyone to the Seawolf. You've all met me, but this," she indicated Paul who was standing just behind her left shoulder, leaning on the boom, "is Paul Burton, intrepid crewman, and this," she nodded at Jenny who was standing next to her feet, "is Jenny Gulliver, our hostess and chef."

  She waited
as the hellos and introductions made the rounds of the cockpit.

  "I thought I'd tell you a little about the Seawolf—what she can and can't do—and then we can talk about the kinds of things you'd like to get up to over the next three weeks." She smiled.

  General nods and murmurs of agreement greeted that.

  "The Seawolf is a Beneteau 50. Beneteau 'cos that's who makes 'em and 50 because she's just over 50 feet long. She was designed as an all-conditions yacht and she's quite capable of sailing around the world, though she'd be a bit leaner below decks for that kind of trip," she said with a smile. "For our purposes though, she's more than adequate." She caught Cadie's eye again and grinned back at the blonde's infectiously encouraging smile.

  "We've got enough provisions on board to last us a few days at a time, but reloading is just a matter of calling our office and having them deliver stores by motorboat, or alternatively, we can restock at the nearest resort.

  "There isn't anywhere in this region of the Whitsundays that we can't get to within a day's sail, depending on the conditions. So there's no reason why we can't touch base with all the islands and reefs if you wish to. Or we can anchor off Whitehaven Beach for three weeks, if that's what you'd rather do."

  "What about diving and snorkeling?" Cadie asked.

  "We have snorkeling gear onboard for everyone," Jo replied. "As for diving, are any of you certified?"

  Shaking heads all round.

  "Okay then. If you want to learn the basics and get your certification, it's as easy as a phone call from me to one of the local dive masters who will come and spend the day, or longer, with us. He'll bring all the necessary equipment with him.

  "If fishing is your thing, we have a few sets of light tackle on board, though if game-fishing is more to your taste, we can arrange with one of the resorts to take you out to the outside of the reef where the big fish are."

  The two men liked that idea, she could tell, making a mental note to contact the Hayman Island charter company.