Sail Away

Even so, she checked his leg to find that the bleeding was old, the tear in the slacks minimal. She checked his head to find a couple of good gashes up beyond the hairline, and one along his temple that some fancy plastic surgeon was probably going to charge a fortune to fix. Nothing was bleeding actively, though. Lilly couldn’t see anything else obvious, and she couldn’t do anything about it if she did, so she decided it was time to sail.

“Here,” she said, wetting down a beach towel and draping it over his blood-caked head. “I’m going to give you your hat back to keep the sun out of your eyes.”

She did, tilting it just enough that he could feel the wind underneath.

“Is that Molokai over there?” he asked, closing his eyes.

Lilly turned to see the undulating curtain of emerald cliffs that seemed to simply spill from the clouds straight into the glistening sea.

“It is,” she said, her voice unconsciously softer.

“Can’t believe I didn’t notice it before. Can’t we just go there?”

“Not on the north coast,” she said. “No way to get you to civilization from there.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Lilly smiled like a fond parent. “It is.”

Actually, there was civilization on the north coast. Kalaupapa. A small peninsula of lush green that had been poured straight down the side of those forbidding cliffs to form a perfect tongue atop the sea. It held a community. It had medical care. Lilly had actually given brief thought to staying on her original course and landing there. But the only people living on the Kalaupapa peninsula were the last of Father Damien’s children, elderly survivors of Hansen’s Disease. Leprosy. As rigidly as they now guarded their privacy and shelter, Lilly wasn’t sure they wanted the notoriety of a famous star dumped on their doorstep. Besides, Maui would be much better suited to transporting and pampering somebody who wore tuxes and sailed in yachts. Carefully climbing to her feet so she didn’t disturb Cameron, Lilly untied the boom and set to work.

“I remember a storm,” he said, his voice muffled as Lilly gently eased the little Sunfish over around the way she’d come. “Lots of noise and lights.”

“Night before last,” she said, gingerly stepping over him. “It was a beaut. I almost lost a roof and a radio in it. We’re expecting a bigger one later. I was trying to get home before it got too close when I spotted you.”

“I remember...diving. Diving? That’s stupid. Why would I dive?”

“Probably falling off the side. Was it a sailboat?” she asked. “A cabin cruiser? Do you know if you had a crew? If you were on a ship of any size, there’s probably a search out for you.”

If she’d actually listened to that radio she’d had at the cabin, she might have known. But she’d walked. Thought. Wished.

Mr. Ross lifted a hand to rub gently at his chest. Sore, Lilly thought. There’d probably be a bruise or two under that once-starched tux shirt.

“I don’t... remember,” he admitted. “I don’t remember much more than the wind and lightning, and trying like hell to get my shoes off. But I feel like...like there’s something important I’m forgetting.”

“More important than your name?” she asked, alternating her attention between him and her task. The wind had caught her sail, and the little boat skipped like a flat rock, the wind spinning her hair out behind her and cooling the sweat on her chest and back from the effort of hauling in a strange man.

“Not like name important,” he said slowly, thinking hard beneath that hat. “But important.”

“Well, don’t worry about it,” Lilly said, much more blithely than she felt. “As soon as we get you ashore, you’ll have plenty of time to remember.”

They were still quite a ways from help of any kind, but with any luck, once they swung into the Pailolo Channel they would run into a good-sized yacht, maybe a deepsea fishing charter, that wouldn’t mind conveying Mr. Ross to a doctor. And, if worse came to worst, Maui was only about five miles beyond.

Wait ‘til she told her mother, Lilly thought with a stunned little shake of her head. Wait ’til she told her colleagues. So there I was, minding my own business, just breaking the speed record between Molokai and Oahu, and who do I happen to rescue in his tux and Stetson but Cameron Ross? They wouldn’t believe it. Heck, she still didn’t believe it.

The brightly striped orange-and-yellow sail strained with the wind, and the cliffs of Molokai were slipping slowly past. Time to check her patient again. Lilly once again tied off the boom and bent to retrieve the water.

“Mr. Ross?” she asked.

He didn’t answer. She panicked.

“Oh, please don’t do this to me,” she begged, dropping right back to her knees to shake his shoulder. “I’m not good in a crisis.”

She lifted his hat to find him squinting up at her. “Doin’ okay by me,” he said with a rakish grin.

Lilly almost clobbered him. “Don’t do that. I think you’re not supposed to fall asleep, but I can’t remember why. Health wasn’t my section.”

“Your section of what?”

“Research. I’m a research librarian. I can find the information once I get home, but I can’t remember it. All I can remember is the line of Stuart succession.”

He scowled. “Well, don’t tell me that. I’d be out in a nanosecond.”

Lilly wanted to smile. “Not into British royalty, huh?”

“Nope.”

“How ’bout Hawaiian royalty? I can name you that succession, too.”

“How about telling me your name? Since you seem to know mine.”

“Lilly,” she said, handing over the bottle of water. “Lilly Kokoa.”

He squinted again. “Named after that Hawaiian queen? Liliuokailani?”

“Nope. The flower. I was born on Easter.”

He grinned. “Not nearly as romantic. You are Hawaiian, aren’t you?”

“Half. Quarter Portuguese, quarter Chinese. I’m a mutt.”

He squinted again, as if assessing. “I’m no judge right now, but I’d bet that when I can actually see you, you’ll be the best-looking mutt I’ve ever come across.”

Lilly frowned down at him. “What do you mean, when you can see? Can’t you see?”

His shrug was minimal. “It’ll probably clear up. I’m already less sick.”

Lilly knew he was trying to ease her mind. He wasn’t having much success. Not only did she know perfectly well how she looked, she knew just what it meant that he couldn’t tell. She’d lied to him about not knowing about head injuries. She knew enough, and he was scaring her again.

“Have some more water,” she begged, hoping that maybe it was dehydration talking rather than head injury. After all, if he’d really fallen out of his boat the night before last, he’d been out in the sun an awfully long time.

“Thank you, Lilly,” he agreed, once again wrapping his hands around hers to bring the bottle to his lips.

He had wonderful hands, she thought. Beautiful, long-fingered and callused from real work. Marred by nicks and old scars across a couple of knuckles. Strong hands. Lilly watched them, watched him sip the water, his eyes closed, the liquid dribbling down his throat. And she thought he didn’t look a thing like a pampered movie star. His hands hadn’t been manicured in a while, and his face was rough with old beard and new sunburn. Even in the tux, he looked like an outcast. A sexy, charismatic, vulnerable outcast.

And Lilly had been alone for too long, she decided, pulling away before her libido got the best of her.

“You don’t want to rush that,” she warned him, closing the bottle with hands that shook just a little. “It could make you sick.”