“Can’t you see the buoys out there? They’re up and down and all over the place. That water is rough. “Oh, get out of it. It’s barely a ripple.”

“Barely a ripple? I’m getting bloody sea sick just looking at it!” Carl is a seasoned sailor, brought up by the sea, was a fisherman for many years of his life. I am the proverbial landlubber.

“Oh come on Sally, you said you’d come out on the boat with me today, you don’t want to have come all this way for nothing.”

I’m an author and I met Carl a while back when I asked on a certain forum about boating things. I was thrilled to find out he live on the opposite coast of England to me and owned a boat. I think it was in a moment of madness I agreed to go visit him for a short voyage.

Or maybe it was his charm and his rugged good looks that persuaded me.

“I told you, I’m a bit scared of water, you know, because of what happened when I was a kid.”

“I know,” he replies with a gentle smile. He clasps his big hand around the top of my arm, “I know but I can guarantee you’ll be completely safe on Daisy, I promise. As a seasoned fisherman I can tell you that these waters are as close to calm as you’re likely to get here and I know that no storms are coming. We’ll just sail out of the harbour, up the headland a bit then come back, we won’t be out long but if you’re going to write about life on’t sea, you need to experience it, right?”

I look into his storm blue eyes and realise I’m a goner. I nod. I don’t want to disappoint him and he’s right, I need to know what it feels like to be rocked in a boat if I’m going to write about being erm, ‘rocked’ in a boat, if you get my drift.

I wish I hadn’t picked a nautical theme for my latest book as we walked along the harbour to Carl’s sturdy looking boat. It’s not one of those Flashy yacht things, but it is more than just a fisherman’s vessel. It has a sturdy looking cabin and a lack of nets, it looks a little out of place, the other boats in Scarborough Harbour are those that work, even the pirate ship that takes tourists round the bay looks more used than Carl’s.

I ask him about it as I clamber aboard trying ever so hard not to look down into the waters below.

“Daisy’s pretty new, my old boat, dandelion was a fisher, did her job for me she did for many a year but when I retired and changed job I didn’t need her any more so I sold her. But I missed the waters so much, Sally, that when I had enough put aside I bought my Daisy here so I could go out to sea again, just for my own entertainment, you know.”

“Oh, I see.” I stand on deak and look around me, “erm, where shall I sit?”

“Well, you can make yourself comfy out here if you want the salt air or you can come in’t cabin with me…” “I’ll come with you.” I say before he can complete his sentence.

“If I’m lucky, you will,” I hear him whisper. I blush.

At least the sexual tension between us takes my mind off being on top of so much water. Nearly drowning puts you off the sea, I can tell you. But as we chug out of the top of the safe haven into the rugged sea I’m too occupied with wondering how his hard hands would feel cupping my soft breasts to worry too much.

Until we hit our first little wave that is. I scream and shout,

“We can’t let this continue, no, no, take me back to land, Carl, I don’t like it.”

“Hush,” he murmured and wrapped me in his arms, “hush now, hush. We’re fine, don’t panic, just feel the gentle rock of the sea, it’s gentle and calming, my love, if you just stop panicking you’ll feel it.”

“You’re not steering anything,” I finally gasp, my face still buried in his chest, “I’m watching the buoys, if we begin to drift, I’ll do something but right now it’s more important that I hold on to you.”

“I rather like it,” I murmur and stroke his back.

“Aye, so do I,” he says, kissing me tenderly on the top of my head.

“I don’t feel too bad now,” I whisper, afraid to raise my voice in case I break the spell and he pulls away from me, “you’ll protect me, won’t you.”

“Of course, my sweet, of course, don’t fret, love, don’t fret.”

“Okay,” I lift my face and look up, his lips are so close to mine and then they’re on top of mine and as I crane my neck back he kisses me all the harder, his tall, thick body surrounding me, cradling me, protecting me from all I am afraid of.”

He pulls away from the kiss abruptly and turns to the console, he still holds me but his hand rests on the…well, things that make the boat go. I am incapable of thought and can’t remember what any of it is called.

“Are we okay?”

“Yes, my sweet, but I don’t want my baby drifting onto the rocks and your kiss had us close to the edge.”

“I know,” I gasp, “right on the edge of something beautiful.”

“Not quite what I meant, love,” he chuckles throatily, “but I do agree with you. Now let me anchor us somewhere safe and we can continue where we left off.”

“You know,” I sigh, “I could get to like the sea, if you come with me every time I visit.”

“Oh, I will.” He smirks, “I know I will.”

Suzanne and Gino have history going back to high school, but for years Suzanne has been three thousand miles away, preoccupied with her challenging career. A mistletoe kiss at a holiday party reminds her of their old bond and proves that some things get better with age.

When Gino rescues her from a New England blizzard, though, she discovers that she’s not the only love in his life. Gino shares his bed and his colonial-era farm house with taciturn painter Harris Steele. Snowed in, without electricity or running water, the three explore the many shapes a triangle can assume. Although she’s far away from her everyday existence, Suzanne realizes that she’s almost home.