West Wind by Madeline Sloane Page B

It is my business,"
he said, gulping his beer. "Jay is my boss. He owns the
boatyard."
    She dropped her trembling hands in her lap.
"That's bizarre," she said.
    "Believe me; it's more bizarre than you
think. Jay is the grandson of Derek West, your grandfather's
partner."
    "You're kidding me," she exclaimed. For the
first time in her life, she understood the term
"thunderstruck."
    Brett nodded, satisfied that she understood,
that she comprehended the uncanny situation.
    "Sabrina; there's more. You see, Jay had a
terrible childhood and his family, his grandmother, blame the
Windhams for all their bad luck. He went berserk this morning when
he saw the Zephyrus. He wanted to destroy it as soon as he saw
it."
    Sabrina's chin dropped and her eyes
misted.
    "When I told him who you are, pointed out
that this is some kind of mystical connection, he got pissed off
and left. Probably holed up in a bar downriver."
    "I can't believe it. Oh my God," she said,
hiding her face in her shaky hands.
    Maude returned, shoving a steaming bowl of
chowder and a toasted BLT towards Sabrina.
    "What's the matter?" She looked accusingly at
Brett who silently mouthed "Jay," pointed to Sabrina's bowed head,
then rolled his eyes. Maude grunted, and returned to the kitchen,
shaking her head. She owned a bar long enough to know love was a
rocky road.
    She stopped in her tracks, and turned slowly
to look once more at Sabrina. Love? Between a Windham and a West?
Now she'd seen it all.
    Long, silent moments passed. Brett drank his
beer and regretted not ordering anything to eat. The chowder
smelled tempting, and who could resist toast and bacon? After a few
minutes, he began to squirm.
    "Sabrina. Eat your lunch."
    She shook her head, still refusing to look
up. Her heart ached and she felt on the verge of tears.
    "Well," Brett said. "Do you mind if I eat the
soup?"
    That made her laugh and she sniffed, wiping
her nose. She finally looked up and Brett saw sparkling tears in
her eyes. She hiccupped, her breath hitching in her chest.
    Oh, Grandmother Rose! She cringed at the
memory of their talk.
    "Brett. It's awful. You don't know, nobody
knows, what happened."
    He spooned the creamy soup into his mouth and
swallowed.
    "You're wrong, Sabrina. Everybody knows," he
said, nodding sagely.
     
    * * *
     
    It was late when Jay motored to the dock,
tying the skiff to a cleat along the seawall. His head down, he
strode to the back of the boatyard. The motion-detector light came
on as he neared the steps to his apartment.
    "I've been waiting for you."
    He stumbled at the sound of the soft voice,
peered closely at the dark staircase. There, sitting on the second
step, huddled in her long leather coat, was Sabrina.
    "Go away," he muttered, searching his jeans
for his house key.
    Sabrina stood and leaned towards him,
smelling smoke and bourbon. "Are you drunk? She stepped closer, her
hands in her coat pocket.
    "Unfortunately, no. At least not very. You
should leave," he said, refusing to look her in the eye. Instead,
he concentrated on her feet, bare for some reason.
    "I should," she whispered. "But I can't."
    He frowned. All afternoon he had cursed her
and her family, drowning his anger at a bayside bar. Now all he
wanted to do was sink into her, inhale her musky perfume, taste her
fevered lips. He looked away instead. Years of anger, years of hurt
had hardened him.
    Sabrina understood his rage. It wasn't simple
for her to confront Jay, this intimate stranger, but she had to try
to relieve his sorrow. "May I come upstairs? I'd like to speak with
you," she said.
    "I don't have anything to say to you."
    She let her long, leather coat fall open.
Beneath it, she wore only a bra and panties. "Well, may I come
upstairs and not talk to you?"
    With a growl, Jay crushed her against his
chest and his mouth ravaged hers. Sabrina encircled his neck with
her arms, melting into him, yielding to his fury. He released her
long enough to pull her up the stairs. He fumbled with the