Too Grand for Words (BookStrand Publishing Romance) (4 page)

“So that’s why you held your ground pretty well with that kid. You must be used to abrasive.” His eyebrows rose. “Sounds like an interesting profession.”

“At times it is.” She curled her fingers tighter around her knee. “Deep seas and other commercial craft that move around the port participate in our system. They call us for traffic updates, using us like an additional navigational aid. We protect the sensitive areas in the harbor, and assist in making the marine traffic flow smoothly.

“Our department also handles all the emergency communications for vessels in our area of responsibility. If vessels of any size get into trouble they call us, and we coordinate the communications with the resources that respond.” God, she’d dropped right into it, hadn’t she, sounding like an official advertisement for her department.

The waitress returned with their drinks. Moira didn’t miss the fact that her finger slid over Steven’s before she released the glass, but he didn’t acknowledge the signal at all.

“So it’s similar to air traffic control, but for the marine industry. I don’t think I would have guessed that one,” he confessed, leaning his broad shoulders forward for a toast. “That would explain your sense of calm confidence. That can’t be an easy profession. And you run the show?” He gazed at her.

“No. I leave the politics of the port to the Officer in Charge.” She eyed him and added, “Well, most of the time.” She paused and thought about it, shaking her head. “Okay, sometimes.” She released a gust of air from her lungs. “I have a bad habit of charging into battle on behalf of my department. I just want to see things done right, with a logical result. Sometimes that means trampling my boss.”

“If he’s a weak boss, he shouldn’t be one,” he said quietly, inclining his head toward her.

“He’s a nice man, actually. As far as politically correct goes, he’s far more adept at it than I am.” An uncomfortable laugh escaped her throat. “I suppose I should have saved a lot of breath, and said I work with boats.”

“But not a quarter as interesting,” he murmured, gazing at her as her glass reached out to his. “Salute.”

“Salute.”

He stared at her as if deliberating something. “What?”

He chuckled. “I guess I’m having a hard time seeing you giving some rusty old mariner crap.”

She broke into a laugh. “Really, I guarantee I can. In fact, I get into more scraps with some of the agencies I work with than I should.”

“How long have you been working with the Coast Guard?”

“Well, somebody once said I’ve been around for so long I’m like old wallpaper. I never really understood whether that was good or bad.” She looked into her glass, swirling the red liquid with a twist of her wrist and shrugged. “I’ve been doing it for a long time.” She took a sip, and the ambrosia slid down her throat like silk. She cocked her head at him. “You did buy me those drinks in the casino, didn’t you?”

He grinned. “All night.” His voice became huskier than his normal timbre.

“That’s sweet, thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

“So what do you do to keep yourself off the streets?” she asked, steering a course away from her to him.

“I work with a large company as a business director,” he said quietly.

“And that brings you to Vancouver?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

“My industry is in Vancouver as well, yes.”

She could tell he was holding something back. She’d become very good at extracting information over the years, especially from those who were in dire circumstances, but he wasn’t. “You’re not with the mob?”

“No, no mob affiliations, I promise.”

She shifted in her seat. His gaze devoured her as if he could see right inside her. “Well, you didn’t seem to be very lucky at cards tonight, and a gangster probably would be.”

“I was distracted,” he said. A languid smile graced his lips. “I love your voice, it’s different. There must be a lot of mariners who don’t mind talking to you on the other end of the radio.”

“There are a lot of women in my trade now. It didn’t used to be that way, for a long while there was only a handful. My mentor had a notable voice. Everyone knew her. She’s retired now, but I remember her telling me, ‘Never let them
hear
you sweat.’” She laughed to herself. “Not an easy thing to do in our profession.” She leaned back in the soft leather of the chair and crossed her legs. “The women I work with all have lovely voices, which doesn’t hurt, but more importantly, they’re professional, and at the top of their game.”

“I guess your busiest season is about to start with summer around the corner?”

“It is. That’s why I came here for a break, and for business as well,” she said, looking down at her glass. “A little research. I’m going into the desert tomorrow actually.”

“There’s not a lot of water out there.”

“Eh? Whoops.”

“Ha—see?” He leaned back in his chair chuckling when she’d caught herself.

“Guess I have to work on that. You Americans always notice that for some reason.”

“So what’s in the desert, definitely not water?”

“No, I know that. I—” She paused. “I kind of have a hobby on the side, and I just wanted to spend the day out there. The rest of the troops are coming with me, I think, but nevertheless I’m heading out early so I should be turning in.”

A flash of concern crossed his features when she suggested leaving. “What kind of hobby?”

“Well, I write in my spare time. Five of the books have been published, but there’s one book to go, the final one, and I have to take some notes, scour the countryside.”

“You’re an author, too?” His brows rose. “You impress me more by the second, you know that?”

Her gaze swerved to a woman who passed them like a gust of wind.

“You fucking asshole,” the woman screamed, stopping at the table behind them.

She and Steven watched, as did the entire lounge. Luckily, for the guy who’d obviously just been caught cheating, the place wasn’t full.

“Kate, how could you do this to me?” the woman railed. “You’re supposed to be my friend, and you’re screwing my husband.” She poked the air fiercely in her husband’s direction. “And you, you bastard, don’t bother coming home tonight. You can stay with your slut for all I care. You better hope that lawyer of yours knows what he’s doing, because you’re going to have nothing left when I’m finished with you.” She turned and stormed out of the lounge.

* * * *

With wide eyes, Moira turned, releasing a deep breath.

He suppressed the urge to laugh. It wasn’t funny, but then again…some guys couldn’t keep it in their pants. “That guy can say good-bye to all his worldly possessions,” he stated, shaking his head.

“You’re not kidding.” Moira looked uncomfortably at him. “How could he fool around on a beautiful wife like that? I don’t get it?”

“Easy,” he said, reading Moira’s confused expression. “She’s a bitch, and the other one offered a warm shoulder.”

Her green eyes sparked with emotion. “How, would you know that? Maybe he can’t stay on one side of the pasture, like so many men. Maybe she works and takes care of the house, and he’s a sleazebag.”

“Maybe.” He paused. “Maybe you’re right. Some men don’t deserve to have a beautiful woman as their mate. A lot of men don’t know what they have, but some know—exactly what they want.” He took a slow sip from his glass.

Moira swallowed the last of her wine in one nervous gulp then set the glass on the table.

He could tell she was an intelligent woman. He knew how to read people well, and he didn’t miss the flash of anger in her eyes at his comment. She didn’t wear a ring now, but he bet she had once. He cleared his throat. “You’re a published author, yet you say you work for the government instead. Most people would think being an author is more appealing. What’s the name of the series?” he asked, steering the conversation back to neutral ground.

“I’m sure you’ve never heard of them. It’s called
By Sea or by Earth Prophecies
.”

A plane drove itself into his chest, taking out all the air. Holy shit, this was Moira Viterra.
What the hell!
He kept the shock from his expression. Talk about synchronicity. “I think I might have,” he said slowly, glancing away from her to collect his thoughts.

Her brow furrowed. “Really?”

“Sure.” He cleared his throat. “You’ve written five of them so far. Each one well received. I think they’ve been on the best-sellers list for a while, isn’t that right?” He truly couldn’t tell her what he did for a living now. She would put two and two together to come up with the wrong number four. He’d learned long ago that divulging what he owned was a mistake with a woman, but with her, he sensed she would walk away from him immediately.

He’d had no idea who she was when she’d sat down at the blackjack table, but maybe that wasn’t exactly true. She’d seemed familiar to him. He recalled the random headlines. They’d called her a recluse who didn’t come out very often to show her face for media and events once the books had become popular. Quiet and seductive with a surprise at every corner, just like her stories, was how she’d been described. They were right. “How long have you been writing?”

“I came out of the writing closest in earnest a few years ago. I remember how thrilled I was when the first novel came out in print. I thought it was the happiest day of my life.” Her lips curled into a small smile. “The truth is—I almost piddled on the floor like a puppy I was so excited.”

He barked with laughter. She certainly had a way with words. The little voice in his head asked him if today would be his happiest. “That must have been pretty exciting all right.” He admired the honest reminiscence in her eyes. “So you’re going out tomorrow to look for clues for your sixth book?”

“Something like that. Anyway, I really should get to bed. It was nice meeting you, Mr. Porter.” She rose and extended her hand out to him as if she were concluding a business meeting.

“Steven,” he said. He couldn’t think of how to keep her there, so there was only one other thing he could do. He rose and reached for her hand, holding its warmth in his. “I don’t have any meetings tomorrow. Why don’t I pick you up in the morning? I’ll take you out to the Valley of Fire. There’s plenty of desert out there.”

“I…you…” she stuttered for a second. “It’s not just me. I think the others are coming as well. It’s nice of you to offer—really, but no.”

Reading Moira’s eyes, he could see she was refusing because she was nervous as hell. She didn’t know it, but if there was one thing he was good at—it was negotiating, and he never lost.

“How many?”

“I’m sorry?”

“How many of you are there?”

“Well—five others.” She peered at him.

“You’ll need more than one car anyway. So I’ll drive you and they can follow,” he suggested quickly. “Come on. I’ll walk you out.” He wanted to get her moving because she looked like she just might refuse anyway. For some reason, that wasn’t an option. Holding her hand, he gently guided her toward the lobby.

* * * *

As a group of people flocked around them, his hand immediately slid to her back, keeping her close. Moira’s heart leaped into her throat, and she berated herself. She just couldn’t stop her insides from churning.

Almost every woman stopped to gawk at him as they walked by, their heads bobbing like Hawaiian dolls from the back windows of old, gas-guzzling jalopies. One woman even ran into a bank of slot machines, spilling her drink on her husband. Steven Porter’s charisma emanated from him like a beacon. With rugged, masculine good looks and a body like a Chippendale, he drew a lot of attention. She, however, felt like an ugly little wharf troll walking beside him.