Enemy Waters
Maggie Scott knows better than to trust again. When her marriage deteriorated, she went on the lam. Hiding out in the Pacific Northwest, she thinks she's safe. She even finds herself falling–just a little–for a laid-back boat bum who makes the Puget Sound his temporary home.For Cooper Grant, working as a private investigator simply means more time on his boat–until he meets Maggie. After taking on the job of finding her for the man he believes is her brother, he realizes he's in over his head. And as the perfect storm of danger and deception is thrust upon them, keeping her safe becomes his obsession….
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She heard a moan, low and soft.
Realized it had risen from her. Felt vaguely like she should pull away, but nowhere could she find the strengthâor the desireâto do it. The only desire she had was to stay right here, to savor his arms around her and to glory in this mouth on hers. She just might be going crazy, turning into that erratic woman her ex had accused her of being. Some still-functioning part of her mind was sounding a warning, but the heat building in her was unlike anything sheâd ever felt. Once she would have said nothing on earth could ever make her throw caution to the winds again.
Apparently, Cooper Grant could.
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Dear Reader,
I live in a world that practically revolves around boats. You canât be near Puget Sound for long without it soaking into your bones. I was always a sailboat hound. I learned at a local Sea Scout base, in a thing called a Sabot. Boxy and maybe eight feet long, it had room for you and maybe a dog, if he wasnât too excitable. It was perfect for a relaxing afternoon, you just ignored the seat and plopped crossways, your backside center bottom, feet hanging over one gunnel, head resting on the other, one hand on the rudder, the other full of lunch. As long as the wind stayed lazy, you were golden. But my husband, being a motor guy, was all about powerboats, the faster the better.
Now, as I watch boats travel the Sound, I wonder about the stories they carry. The huge ones, the container ships, fishing boats and the cruise liners, are obvious. But itâs the small, private ones that wake up my muse. Where are those people headed? Just to enjoy a day on the water? Perhaps to show visiting guests or family the area? Or perhaps to avoid those visiting guests or family for a while?
Or perhaps, thereâs a whole different storyâ¦.
Justine Davis
JUSTINE DAVIS
lives on Puget Sound in Washington. Her interests outside of writing are sailing, doing needlework, horseback riding and driving her restored 1967 Corvette roadsterâtop down, of course.
Justine says that, years ago, during her career in law enforcement, a young man she worked with encouraged her to try for a promotion to a position that was at the time occupied only by men. âI succeeded, became wrapped up in my new job, and that man moved away, never, I thought, to be heard from again. Ten years later, he appeared out of the woods of Washington State, saying heâd never forgotten me and would I please marry him. With that history, how could I write anything but romance?â
For my sweet, beloved, wonderful girl,
the most perfect dog in all of the world. When my time comes, when the last golden days wind down, may I face it with one tenth the grace and spirit you have. I know by the time this sees light, you will likely have gone, and it breaks my heart.
But never having had you would have been worse. We
thought we were rescuing you, but indeed, it was you who saved us. Me especially, after the worst happened.
Heâll be waiting for you when you get there,
sweet girl, that man you loved so much and took care of so well.
I love you, my beautiful, clever,
whimsical Decoy Dawg. And as someone once said, if dogs donât go to heaven, I want to go where they go. Iâll see you there, sunshine.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
Chapter 1
She didnât know he was watching her.
Cooper Grant sipped at his coffee leisurely, as if he had all the time in the world. Which he did, as long as she was here. And since the little café had just opened for the day, and her shift had obviously just begun, she was going to be here for a while.
The woman flicked a glance in his direction, but again it wasnât as if she thought he was watching her. She didnât seem aware of him in particular; she was keeping her eye on all the occupied tables. Which were numerous this time of day; the Waterfront was obviously the place to meet in the morning in tiny Port Murphy.
Of course, he thought wryly, it was also the only place in town open at this hour, and darned near the only place in town at all.
No, he didnât think she knew he was watching her.
But she acted like she was afraid someone was. Odd.
He took another long sip, savored the rich flavor; the little townâs only full-time eatery had the coffee down right. And the food, too, if his nose was any judge; the smells wafting around were enough to make him wish heâd ordered a real breakfast instead of just toast and coffee. The place might be old and look a bit shabby, but the kitchen in the back corner was spotless, and the thin, wiry man with the poker face and the Navy tattoo on his forearm ran it with what Cooper guessed was military precision.
