If he didn’t agree to the interview, the editor would pull the story that would not only pay the next few months’ rent, but would also increase her legal defense fund so that she could hire a really good custody lawyer if her ex ever decided to try to take Mason away from her.
“Would it help if I held him for a little while?”
Dylan’s softly spoken question broke her out of her spinning thoughts. She’d never given her child to a stranger to hold, wouldn’t have thought she would ever consider it. “Maybe if you could just hold his hand for a few seconds, that will be enough to calm him down a little.”
“Hey there, big boy.” Dylan stroked Mason’s fingers. “Welcome to my boathouse.”
But her son not only kept crying, he was leaning so close to Dylan by then that he had practically wriggled all the way out of her arms. From the look on Mason’s face, along with the tenor of his wails, Grace knew they were approximately five seconds from an even more massive meltdown. Which was why, at last, Grace made the only decision she felt she could to try to keep her son from more misery: She let him go into the arms of the man by whom he so badly wanted to be held.
Dylan took him with the ease of a man who had held plenty of babies. And who liked holding them. To her further amazement, by the time he said, “What’s your name?” to her son, Mason had stopped crying and was babbling a greeting in his own special language.
“Mason,” Grace replied. “His name is Mason.” And her little boy was smiling now, so happy that his entire face had lit up. “He’s never wanted to go to anyone else like this before.”
Dylan shifted his gaze to her, and she felt as though his dark brown eyes saw all the way down into her soul. When her son grunted to get his attention, he turned to grin back down at him.
“You’ve got quite a throwing arm, haven’t you, Mason?” As if to confirm it, the baby grabbed the baseball cap off Dylan’s head and sent it sailing into the air.
Grace hurried to pick up Dylan’s hat before the breeze took it into the water. “Mason is usually pretty mellow. I think maybe the muggy heat is getting to him.”
Or perhaps that was just her, because every time Dylan looked at her she felt as if she were heating up from the inside out. Which was crazy on a number of fronts. First, for the past year and a half she’d been completely shut down when it came to men. Second, she was here for professional, not personal, reasons. And third, the chance of ever moving beyond
professional
with a man like Dylan Sullivan was utterly laughable.
But when she handed him his hat, the stark heat in his gaze nearly had her dropping it from suddenly numb fingertips. Fumbling, she ended up shoving the cap at him.
“I can take my son back now.” But when she reached for Mason, he only snuggled closer into Dylan’s broad chest.
“I’m okay holding him for a while longer if you’re okay with it,” Dylan offered.
God, no, she wasn’t okay with it for a whole host of twisted-together reasons. It wasn’t just that Mason had chosen a stranger instead of her for the first time. It was more that she thought she’d made her peace with her son never knowing his father—only now that she’d seen Mason in a man’s arms, it was hitting her all over again, harder than ever, that he’d never have this. At least, not for more than these few minutes with Dylan.
Standing in front of a stranger from whom she desperately needed help—one who was holding her son so sweetly—Grace couldn’t figure out how to stop her heart from breaking into a million pieces all over again.
Or to keep from falling head over heels for Dylan the same way it seemed her son just had.
CHAPTER TWO
Two years ago, Dylan had been sailing in Belize when he’d looked up and seen a rogue wave come crashing toward him and his boat. He hadn’t stopped to think, hadn’t had time to be afraid, had simply done whatever he could to sail through what was later called the “storm of the century.” And he’d known that every second he’d spent in a sailboat during the past two decades had been to prepare him for that moment.
Seeing Grace and Mason for the first time had felt exactly the same way. He’d been working in his boathouse, enjoying the quiet and the physical labor, when he’d heard crying, and then the somewhat desperate murmur of a woman’s voice as she tried to calm the baby. The moment he’d stepped outside to make sure neither of them were hurt, and set eyes on the mother and child, his entire world had spun off its axis.
Desire for the woman—and his need to soothe the little boy—had come so fast that he hadn’t stopped to overthink or be afraid of what he was feeling. He’d simply reached out for the baby at the same time that he’d confirmed the little boy’s mother wasn’t wearing a wedding ring...and thought,
I’m going to marry her.
Maybe he should have been surprised, but he wasn’t. Not when he’d always known that this would be how he’d love. All or nothing. And faster than a sloop flying over the water at twenty-five knots. All the years he’d spent watching his parents together, along with the way his cousins and siblings had found love these past few years, had prepared him well for this moment when he’d be hit by his own lightning bolt straight to the heart.
Dylan had never second-guessed himself. He’d always known he would be a sailor and build boats. There had been small struggles along the way, of course, but he’d never doubted his direction or his beliefs. So when he’d stepped close to Grace and the sparks between them practically exploded from nothing more than that, he’d barely been able to keep from sealing both their fates with a kiss.
But he hadn’t been raised to be an idiot. Which was why he wasn’t going to let himself pull her closer and kiss her.
Not yet, anyway.
“I have some cold drinks inside the boathouse. If you have a few minutes, why don’t you come in and have one?”
“Thank you,” she said as she gave him a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. Despite their obvious attraction to one another, she was wary, he could see that. Of him specifically? Or of all men? “I’d like that.”
Dylan settled her son more firmly on his hip as he moved aside to let her walk into the large building. Her eyes widened when she saw the interior of his boathouse. Framed in a classic Craftsman style, the ceiling was three stories high, with large wood-framed windows letting in light on every side. But the best part of the building was, hands down, that the skylights were retractable so that he could work under the open sky.
“Your boathouse is incredible.”
He grinned at her awed tone as he pulled a couple of bottles of water out of the fridge in the corner where there was a small kitchen area built in. “Thanks. My brothers and father helped me put it together, although the genius behind the design is my brother Adam.”
Before he could give her the water, she caught sight of the nearly completed sailboat in the back of the boathouse and headed toward it as if drawn by a magnet. “How do you do it?” she asked him. “How can you create and build something this amazing?”
“It’s all I ever wanted to do. I read everything I could find about making boats as a kid and then once I had the basics down, I started taking them apart. I’d save up my money to buy the junkiest sloops and my parents would let me haul them into their backyard. I’d saw through them, study the hulls, and then I’d try to replicate them as closely as I could.”
“Amazing.” She reached out to run her hand over the wood before drawing back.
“Go ahead. These things are designed to withstand more than forty knots in an open sea. If it breaks when you put your hands on it,” he said with a laugh that drew a giggle out of her little boy, too, “I’m going to have a seriously upset buyer on my hands when the Coast Guard has to come pick him up. Want to touch it, too, Mason?”
Together, the three of them put their hands on the wood, warmed from the sun beaming in from the clear blue sky above.
“I’m Dylan Sullivan, by the way.”
Turning away from the boat, she said, “I’m Grace. Grace Adrian.”
She held out her hand and when he took it he heard her breath go—easily the sexiest sound he’d ever heard. “It’s nice to meet you, Grace. Really nice.” But then he frowned slightly. “Your name—it’s familiar for some reason. But I’d have remembered if we’d met before.”
“We haven’t met. I have called you several times, though.”
“Right, that’s where I know your name from. Sorry about not getting back to you. I’m not great with the phone.”
She gave him a look that he could easily read as
No kidding,
before saying, “I hope we didn’t interrupt you too badly this morning. I was just really hoping to talk with you for a few minutes. Mason was supposed to stay home today with a babysitter, but she didn’t show up, and now we’re in the middle of his nap time, which is why he’s a little cranky.”
“Cranky looks good on him. And now that you’re here, what can I help you with?”
She took a deep breath, then pushed her shoulders back as if to ground herself before answering. “I’m a writer and I’d really like to interview you for a story I’m doing on sailing and building boats.” Clearly nervous that he’d say no, she continued quickly. “I know you don’t do many interviews, but this story isn’t going to be about your family, or about money or prestige. Instead, I’m going to write about the heart of a sailor, about loving being on the water, about building boats that help make people’s dreams come true. And before you recommend some colleagues that I could talk to instead of you, I need you to know that the editor told me he’ll only hire me to write this story if it’s about you. And...they need you to be on the cover, too.”
“You’re right,” he said slowly as he let Mason take his ball cap off again to chew on the brim. “I don’t normally do interviews. But for you,” he said with a smile that he hoped would help settle her worries down, “I’m happy to make an exception. How tight is your deadline?”
She’d looked incredibly relieved when he’d told her he would do the story and cover. But her relief quickly shifted to a slight grimace as she said, “This story is on a pretty tight deadline, I’m afraid. They’ll need it and the pictures in four weeks.”
“I’ve got to head out to ferry a boat to a friend in Portland in an hour, but I’ll be back Friday afternoon.” He also had an upcoming trip to Australia for a major yacht race in a week and a half, but he planned to get to know Grace—and Mason—a heck of a lot better between now and then. “My mom will be making dinner on Friday for the family. Come with me and we can get started then.”
She blinked at him in confusion. “You want me to come to your mother’s house for our first interview?”
“You and Mason,” he clarified. Because even though he wasn’t going to make the mistake of freaking her out with his intentions, he also couldn’t resist speeding things up a bit by tossing her into the deep end with his family. Dylan just couldn’t see waiting…not when he
knew.
“If we get there early, she can watch the baby while you interview me. Unless, of course,” he deliberately added to confirm the one thing he needed to be absolutely certain about, “your husband or boyfriend can watch Mason while we talk.”
“It’s just us.”
Knowing it couldn’t be easy to raise a baby alone, he tried not to give a whoop of delight that she was single.
“Are you sure your mother will want to watch a little boy she’s never met before? Don’t you need to ask her first?”
“No,” he said with a laugh. “I definitely don’t need to ask her if she wants to hang with an awesome kid for a couple of hours. There are few things she loves more. Plus, this way you can ask my family questions for your story.” He wasn’t usually a steamroller with women—he’d never needed to be when they’d always come to him. But with Grace, he needed to know exactly when he’d see her again. “I’ll come pick you guys up at four on Friday?”
Grace stared at him for a few seconds, her expression unreadable, before she finally said, “Okay, that will be fine. And thank you for agreeing to work with me on this story. I really appreciate it.”
He didn’t need her thanks. Her mouth against his, however, he would gladly take. But since he knew he’d already pushed her enough for one day, he simply said, “I’m looking forward to it, Grace.” He liked the sound of her name, the way it felt on his lips. “There’s a pad of paper on my desk behind you so that you can give me your address and phone number.”
She moved toward the desk against the far wall, and he enjoyed every second of watching her hips sway as she walked in her heels. But halfway to his desk, she stopped and turned to face him. “How many times have you refused to be interviewed for stories like this in the past?”
He shrugged, making Mason giggle when he bounced slightly in Dylan’s arms. Bouncing the baby around more on purpose, he said, “Countless. Why do you ask?”
She looked between him and her son, her expression still wary…but also more than a little stunned, too. “I’m just surprised you said yes to me so quickly. Because I really do need to write this cover story about you. So if you’re only planning to mess around with me for a laugh—”
“I promise I’m not messing around with you. Not in the slightest.” He hoped that one day she’d look back on this conversation and realize that he’d been serious about her and her son even then. “You were right when you said I’d like the angle you’re going to take for the story. No one needs to read another story about the fastest way to hoist a spinnaker. But a story about a sailor’s heart? That’s what it’s really all about, whether you’re taking a Sunfish out on a Saturday afternoon or you’re racing an eight-million-dollar yacht for the World Cup.”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for my question to come out like that.” He could see how tired she was now that she’d let her defenses down just a little bit. “Not when I really am grateful that you’re available to do the interview. I just need to be sure that you’re really on board with this.”
She didn’t need to say anything more for him to understand immediately that she’d been screwed over before and had a hard time trusting people when they gave her their word. Probably, it wasn’t too much of a stretch to guess, by the guy who had gotten her pregnant.