The Guardian by Bill Eidson Read Free Book Online Page B

that interested her simply changed. She wanted a more traditional lifestyle, and she wanted it immediately. Her ambitions for him were narrow and clear: Earn more. Settle down. Have children, now.
    He suggested a compromise. That they take their round-the-world cruise while they could. Afterward, base themselves down in the Virgin Islands for two years and charter the Bon Vivant. If they didn’t like it, even if they took several years trying it out, they’d still be only in their late twenties. Still plenty of time for children, for everything, he’d said.
    “Grow up,” she’d said.
    They were divorced, and he sailed off to the Virgin Islands on the Bon Vivant within the year. The divorce had left him one boat payment behind, so he had to throw himself into the charter business right away. And that suited him; he wanted to prove to himself he could make money on the charters, that he could attract the guests and make the whole dream work in reality.
    As Ross seasoned the steaks and kabobs, he was pleased to find the dream was just as powerful as it had been then. The Ericson Jimmy had mentioned would be well within his range once they sold the parcels, and he figured he would go down and take a look at it. Give himself something to shoot for. His reverie had been broken when Greg interrupted him to introduce his attorney, Allie Pearson. She had shaken his hand and said coolly, “Welcome back.”
    And then she moved on.
    Ross had seen the assessment in her eyes, without any of the curiosity or nervousness of the others. Greg had told him before that she had been an assistant district attorney before going into private practice. In spite of that—or maybe because of it—Ross had found himself wanting to talk with her.
    Maybe he wanted her acceptance, he thought.
    Or maybe he was just analyzing himself too much. Because the fact of the matter was that Allie Pearson took his breath away. Not just because of the glow of her skin, her fine cheekbones and lithe movements. It was the way she handled herself with the others. She laughed well and to all appearances seemed friendly and outgoing. But he could sense a reserve in her, a self- awareness that he liked.
    Toward the end of the evening, he noticed her wineglass was empty and joined her near the pool and offered a refill.
    “I’ve been watching you,” she said, smiling. “You’ve been a major disappointment.”
    “You mean because I didn’t try to cut my steak with a shiv?”
    “You told no stories about men in showers,” she offered. “No prison riots, no revelations about God, and … you didn’t tell everyone you were innocent and railroaded. I particularly appreciate that one.”
    He’d laughed. “Give me time.” Early on, he’d learned that the idea of an innocent man being sent to prison was considered a myth in the court system. Only the hopelessly naive were supposed to believe it.
    “You were guilty, right? Cocaine, was it?”
    “It was. Unfortunately, what I was mainly guilty of was stupidity.”
    “For getting caught?” She gestured for him to sit beside her.
    “For being there.” Ross had found himself telling her about it. She was a good listener, and it had been so long—five years, in fact—since he’d held a conversation of any length with such an attractive woman. As the rest of the party continued around them, he began by telling her how he’d been taking the Bon Vivant up the coast on a Florida to Maine charter with a newlywed couple and his first mate, Giselle.
    Giselle had been with him for just a month. She was a small, pretty woman who’d answered his ad for a mate and cook by showing up at his boat with a picnic basket and the best meal he’d eaten in months. The two of them had established a good working relationship quickly. She was an excellent sailor, pulled her time at the wheel without flagging, and maintained an outward cheerfulness, with even the most obnoxious guest. She’d laid her ground rules early: she had