Penthouse Suite by Sandra Chastain Page A

man-made. I guess you’d call this my escape. How do you escape, Kate?”
    “I take—no, I took—how-to classes. Lots of how-to classes. In five years’ time, there wasn’t anything I didn’t learn about.”
    “But plumbing, mechanics, carpentry? I’ve never known a woman who liked getting dirty.”
    “I got into it by accident. I’d planned to go to college, but after my mother became ill, I had to forget about that. The only thing I could afford was cheap classes. And the only cheap classes were in the adult education programs in the local high schools.”
    “Why not study typing or cake decorating?”
    “I tried some of those the first year. And then one quarter, I signed up late and the only thing left was cabinet-making. I decided, why not? And I found out that hammering and sawing was exactly what I needed. I worked out all my frustrations. And you know what? I’m good at it.”
    “Physical exertion. I can understand that. That’s why I run.”
    I know
, she almost said,
I watched you
. But the thought steered her mind into a direction she refused to allow herself to go.
    She was glad that he’d asked her to come. She’d never sailed before, and she loved the feel of the spray on her face. He was right. Out on the water there were no problems. Everything seemed unimportant, and she was willing to let the wind take her wherever it chose. Overhead, wispy clouds had chased the cotton puffs away. She scanned the horizon, lifting her face to meet the warmth of the sun.
    For a time Kate was successful in keeping her eyes averted from the man holding the helm. She’d never spent time with anyone before where the silence was pleasant. She liked that he didn’t talk. Some men couldn’t stand silence. Max was content to sit back and let her enjoy the moment without telling her that she should.
    He’d unbuttoned his shirt as soon as they’d left the cove. Now he removed it entirely, revealing the total maleness of his upper body. Kate sucked in her breath and closed her eyes. In spite of the cool breeze, she was very warm.
    “Are you hungry?”
    “Starving,” Kate admitted, hoping beyond hope that the peculiar feeling in the pit of her stomach would go away if she ate.
    “So am I. If you’ll go below, you’ll find a thermos of coffee and a brown paper bag of doughnuts. Bring them up here, and we’ll eat.”
    After a few faltering steps, Kate found her balance and located the thermos, the cups, and the doughnuts. She carried them to the deck and spread the feast out on the top of a built-in toolbox. She poured the steaming coffee, took a quick sip, and found to her delight that it was sweet.
    “Hey, swabbie, I think I ought to explain that it is the duty of the crew to see that the captain is fed first.”
    “Sorry, Captain. I’m starving. I was out to dinner last night with a handsome man who interfered with my appetite.” She reached across the seat and held out a cup and a doughnut.
    “I can handle the wheel and the coffee. But the doughnut? You’re either going to have to steer the boat or feed me. It’s the law of the sea.”
    “If I don’t, do I have to walk the plank?”
    “No, you have to …” his voice dropped to a throaty rumble. “I think you’d better come over here and—” he meant to say “feed me,” but instead said, “kiss me, Kate.”
    Kate slid across the seat until she was only inches away. Her breathing was shallow as she broke the sugary confection in half and held it up to Max’s lips. He looked into Kate’s eyes, and she knew that doughnuts were the last thing on Max’s mind. He was hungry. She was hungry. But their hunger wasn’t for food.
    Max opened his mouth and took a bite of the doughnut, chewed it slowly, and parted his lips to lick off the sweet powder. He missed a sprinkling of sugar on his chin, and she reached out with one finger to wipe it away. Her fingertip rubbed against the faint stubble of his beard. Max seemed not to be breathing. He held