Grey pulled his 911 Targa GTS into his personal parking space in the Wrightsville Beach Marina, opened the glove box, took out his Wilmington Sharks baseball cap, pulled it on over his dark brown hair and adjusted his aviators. In less than an hour, he was underway with the sails flying high, the sun bouncing off the water, and wind blowing across his upturned face. Grey always found peace on the open sea that centered him as nothing else could. He only stayed out a few hours, but it was enough to reenergize him. He reversed his course and headed back, in a much better mood. As he entered the marina, he cut his speed to a crawl and carefully maneuvered his way through boat and jet ski traffic. He kept his eyes on a fishing boat nearing his starboard, the Amanda Claire—he assumed she was leaving the marina for an afternoon charter fishing cruise. As the boats passed each other, a glint of sunlight caught his eye from the bow of the Amanda Claire. Grey lifted his sunglasses for an unobstructed view of a stunning woman on deck as she laughed with an older gentleman at the helm. Most of her dirty-blond hair was pulled up in a ponytail, but she kept tucking a few windblown strands behind her dainty ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She wore jean shorts and a plain loose-fitting purple t-shirt. Her figure was nice, but it was her face he couldn’t stop staring at. When she laughed, her head tipped back, her eyes squinted upward, and her lush pink lips opened, framing straight white teeth. But those things weren’t what caught his attention. When she laughed, her face transformed, coming alive with a glowing radiance. He wanted her. He wanted to sink into her and watch her beautiful face as he brought her pleasure, he knew the sight would be spectacular. Some invisible force pulled his head around to watch the beaming smile she flashed to the captain as the Amanda Claire pulled past and headed out to sea. He wanted that radiant smile turned on him. Grey wanted to call out to her and say…what? Eventually, the boat disappeared in the distance and Grey’s attention returned to maneuvering his boat into the marina. He glided into his slip, cut the engine, and jumped onto the dock, tying the bow and stern dock lines to cleats. Who was she? The vision of her smiling face stayed with him the entire time he closed and cleaned the Saundra E. Maybe he’d hang around until she returned. He checked the time and swore—he had a meeting with a fixture distributor in thirty minutes. He gazed out into the channel where the Amanda Claire had gone, resolving to find her. Wrightsville Beach wasn’t that big a place. |