Love Overboard Part 7

"You take one step closer, and I'm going to scream," she said to Ivan.

Ivan kicked off his shoes and wrung out his woolen shirt. "Now you're resorting to screaming? Don't you want to kick me in the groin? Maybe break a few bones?"

"Now that you mention it, maybe I do."

"Okay, come on."

Stephanie rolled her eyes.

Ivan grinned at her. "I'm waiting."

"This is ridiculous."

He stalked her around the forward deck-house. He curled his finger at her. "Come here, Stephanie."

"Forget it. I'm not going to wrestle with you." More games, she thought. They'd roll around together until she was all bothered, then he'd probably pitch her back into the ocean to cool off. No thanks.

She turned on her heel and squished down the ladder to the galley. A single lantern cast a soft circle of light over the cabin. The fire in the stove was almost out. Stephanie stoked it to life and added several logs.

Ivan followed her down the stairs, looking over at Ace's bunk. "Doesn't he ever sleep in his own bed?"

"I think he's made up with Melody."

"They deserve each other."

Stephanie stepped out of her shoes and pulled the wet sweatshirt over her head, leaving her in a soaked T-shirt. And what about me? she wondered. Did she deserve Ivan Rasmussen? Wasn't Steve enough? She twisted the bottom of her T-shirt and squeezed out the water. Two ringers in a row. How could she be so lucky?

Ivan had stripped to the waist and had his hands on the snap to his jeans.

Stephanie looked over and felt a rush of panic. Lord, he was getting undressed! Ivan Rasmussen naked. The answer to every woman's dream. This was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? Well, wasn't it?

She swallowed hard and admitted that romance was one thing-naked was another. She might not be ready for naked. Especially since Ivan wasn't inclined to follow through on s.e.xual overtures. What if she got carried away and attacked him, and he rejected her? Good grief, Stephanie, she thought, that's insane. She wasn't going to attack him. The most likely scenario was that she'd start stammering and sweating and probably hyperventilating.

She put her hands on her hips and squinted through the drops of water trickling into her eyes from her soaked bangs. "What are you doing?"

"I'm getting out of my clothes. In case you haven't noticed, they're wet. They're wet because, demented fool that I am, I jumped into the ocean to save you. I don't know why I felt compelled to do that. Lord knows you're perfectly capable of saving yourself. You've been thrown into the Hudson River, probably pushed out of third-story windows, and dragged through rat-infested alleys." He raked his hand through his wet hair. "You know, it's d.a.m.n hard to be a hero for you."

Stephanie scowled at him. "I don't need a hero."

"What do you need?"

She didn't exactly know what she needed. Actually, a hero wouldn't be a bad place to start. A small hero. Nothing on the scale of Superman or Batman. She looked at Ivan. He was heroic enough. Especially now that he was standing in front of her in a pair of tight, soaked-to-the-skin navy blue briefs. He might even be more heroic than she needed, she thought, chewing on her lower lip. "You're going to leave those on, aren't you?" she asked hopefully.

She was nervous. Not much experience with naked men, he thought. He liked that. He didn't want to share Stephanie with anyone- from her past or present or future. "What happened to being brave?"

Her body responded with a ripple of desire, and her temper flared equally as strongly. "Is this why you dunked me in the water? So you could come in here and flaunt your naked body at me?"

He crossed the room and took a pair of sweats from Ace's bunk. "Just for the record, one more time, I didn't dunk you in the water. You dunked yourself in the water." He knew he was asking for trouble, but he couldn't resist teasing. She was terrific when she was indignant.

"And now that I think about it, I suppose I could make the same accusation. I know you're hot for my body, but this is going to an unnecessary extreme. If you wanted to get me naked-" He turned around just in time to dodge a frying pan.

"Out!" Stephanie shouted, pointing to the hatch. "Out! Out! Out! Before I start throwing knives!"

Ivan stood at midship and watched his pa.s.sengers depart. He was waiting for Stephanie, wondering if she would warm up when she said good-bye. The atmosphere between them at breakfast had been very frosty, and lunch hadn't been much better. He straightened when he saw Stephanie emerge from the hatch with her backpack slung over one shoulder. She briskly walked past him with her nose tipped up ever so slightly. " 'Bye," Ivan said.

Stephanie narrowed her eyes and threw him a brief sideways glance without breaking stride.

A small smile lit his face. Maybe he'd underestimated the way she felt about him. She had to have some serious emotions to be so mad. She stormed up the hill without a second glance, and Ivan felt elated at her fury. This is just the beginning, he thought. Winters were long in Maine. It would be nice to have such a challenging project. Stephanie Lowe was doomed.

Mr. and Mrs. Pease approached him. "It was great," Mr. Pease said. "We'll be back next year."

Mrs. Pease looked less enthusiastic. "Next time I'm bringing my heart medicine. That girl with the blue hair and butcher knife sure had me going for a while. And the sea captain's wife just about took my breath away. I don't know how you did it, but darned if it didn't look like a real ghost. I have to tell you, I was pretty startled the first time I saw her standing there on the prow of the ship. But then I knew it was a trick. I figured you did it with movie cameras or something."

Ivan nodded. "Yup. That's exactly how we do it. Movie cameras." He helped Mrs. Pease down the short gangplank and wondered who had put her up to the prank. There were several repeat customers on the voyage, not to mention Ace and Stephanie, all of whom knew about Aunt Tess. Then, of course, there was the other possibility....

Chapter 6.

Lucy Pederson had a mop of platinum blond curls. She was a year younger than her cousin Stephanie and an inch shorter-if you didn't count the hair. "No sweat," she said to Stephanie. "I'm going to fix this toilet for you."

"You ever fix a toilet before?"

"No. But if that dunce Stanley could do it, I can do it."

"I still don't see why you couldn't have married him for a little while. Just long enough for him to repair my plumbing. You owed me that!"

Lucy made a disgusted sound and peered into the tank. "I don't know why you're complaining. Most women would cut off a thumb to spend a week with Ivan Rasmussen."

"Yeah, well, if I ever have to spend another week with him, it's not going to be my appendage that gets cut off."

Lucy looked at her cousin. "What happened? Did he make a pa.s.s at you?"

"I don't know. I thought he did, but then it turned out that he might not have."

"You want to elaborate on that?"

"No."

"You didn't do anything stupid like fall in love with him, did you?"

Stephanie sighed. Of course she'd fallen in love with him. It was like spending four years struggling through a desert with nothing to drink, then coming upon an ice-cream soda.

"Jeez, Stephanie, he's so slippery. Girls have been running after Ivan for as long as I can remember. And he always runs two steps ahead of them." She jiggled something in the tank and screeched when water sprayed up at her. "Shut it off!"

Water splashed against the ceiling and ran down the walls while Stephanie lunged for the shutoff valve.

"You know what I think?" Lucy said, wiping her face on her sleeve. "I think this sucker's broken."

"Doesn't look good," Ivan said, lounging against the doorjamb.

Stephanie jumped at the sound of his voice. "What are you doing here?"

"I have something to discuss with you. Melody was playing her guitar on your widow's walk and shouted down that I should come on in."

Lucy and Stephanie eyed each other.

"I'll go get her," Lucy said.

Ivan looked into the toilet tank. "She's really a sight up there with all that blue hair and her electric guitar. She was the first thing I saw when we sailed into the harbor Sat.u.r.day."

"She's ruining my inn's image. I wanted it to be dignified, historic, tranquil." Stephanie dropped a bath towel on the floor to sop up the water. "The neighborhood kids are calling her Elvira."

"I think she's just going through a rebellious stage."

"Uh-huh. So what do you think I should do?"

"Lock her up in the cellar until she's forty."

Stephanie squeezed the towel out in the tub and remembered she was supposed to be mad at Ivan. h.e.l.l hath no fury like a woman scorned, she thought. That was her-slightly scorned and pretty much humiliated by it all. She wondered how much of her conversation with Lucy he'd heard and gave an involuntary shudder, trying to remember if she'd sounded majorly disappointed at his lack of interest. She stiffened her back and tried to look aloof. "You said you wanted to talk to me?"

"I have a business deal to propose."

A business deal. She'd been hoping for an explanation to soothe her damaged ego, and he had a business deal. Men! She pressed her lips together. "I can hardly wait to get swindled."

Ivan stooped to examine the outside of the toilet bowl. "Last week was the last cruise of the season. The Savage won't sail again until spring."

She already knew that. Lucy had moved into Haben last night. She'd given her a free room in exchange for being chief cook and dishwasher. "So?"

"So, I have no place to live. I thought you might rent me a room."

"No!"

Ivan stood and shoved his hands in his pockets. "This toilet is shot. The bowl is cracked beyond repair, and someone's broken the float."

She c.o.c.ked an eyebrow. "You know about toilets?"

Ivan tried not to smile. "I know enough. I also know that you're going to have a hard time making ends meet until next summer's tourists flood back to Camden. I'd be willing to pay a nominal amount for a room, and I'd be willing to serve as handyman for the winter."

She needed the money, and she needed a handyman. Did she need Ivan Rasmussen, that was the real question. She needed him like a hole in the head, she decided. Ivan Rasmussen, running hot and cold, underfoot day and night. She might be able to keep her virginity, but she could kiss her sanity good-bye.

"I tell you what. I can sweeten the offer," Ivan said. "You don't have any furniture in this house, and my furniture is sitting unused in storage. If you let me live here, I'll let you use my furniture, free of charge, for an entire year."

Stephanie silently groaned. Ivan had wonderful furniture. Priceless antiques, many of which predated Haben. Mantel clocks, a grandfather clock, pineapple mahogany four-posters, Oriental rugs she would die for, original paintings of all the sea captains and sea captains' wives. The list was endless. "Why do you want to rent a room here? I'd think you'd be anxious to get a place of your own."

"I feel comfortable here, and I'm not sure what I want to do about a more permanent home for myself."

It was true. His house had been put up for sale so quickly he hadn't had time to consider other arrangements for himself. He'd simply put everything into storage and moved onto the Savage. Now that the hectic sailing season was over, he had time to reflect on his actions. It was no wonder Tess was in an uproar, he thought, looking around. Haben had been built to be a Rasmussen house, and she must feel just as displaced as he. He smiled inwardly at the human qualities he'd just given his ancestral ghost. As a kid he'd talked to her all the time. She'd never shown herself to him, but that was to be expected since only women ever saw Tess, and it had never stopped him from carrying on his one-sided conversations.

Stephanie saw his gaze shift to the hall and the window that looked out over the sea and knew she was a goner. For the sake of her wounded pride she told herself it was the grandfather clock that clinched it, but deep down inside she knew the clock was just an excuse. She felt a strong attraction and genuine affection for Ivan. He was hatefully irresistible. He was a teasing scoundrel, and this could prove to be the longest winter of her life. She caught herself gritting her teeth and made a conscious effort to relax.

"Okay," she said, swallowing down a sigh of defeat. "The deal is that I get the use of your furniture for one full year, and you move out June 1. Lucy's doing the cooking, Melody's doing the cleaning, and you're Mr. Fix-it. Now that I have furniture I'll be able to advertise for guests. I don't expect there'll be many, but every little bit helps."

Ivan grinned and checked out his new landlady: tousled brown hair; no makeup, although her cheeks were glowing; sweatshirt with sleeves pushed up to the elbows; and jeans with holes in the knees. She was beautiful, and he was crazy about her. He curled his hand around her neck, pulled her to him, and kissed her hard on the lips.

"I'm used to sleeping in the master bedroom," he said, "and you're going to have to buy a new toilet."

He twirled one of her brown curls around his finger, kissed her on the nose, then seriously on the mouth. Then he sauntered off, down the stairs.

"Oh, gross," Melody said. "A pork chop. Have you ever seen one of these pigs? They're big. I mean big. And they feed them chemicals that cause cancer, then they feed them hormones and steroids and antibiotics so that if you eat enough of these chops you get sick and nothing can cure you because you have an immunity. And they make them live in filthy little pens with a thousand other pigs, and they pack them into a truck and drive them across the country, so that by the time they get to the packinghouse all their legs are broken. Then they hang them up by their broken hind legs and-"

"I think we get the idea," Ivan said. "How about salad?"

Lucy sliced off a piece of pork chop. "I'd hate for this pig to have died in vain."

Stephanie tenderly pushed her pork chop to one side and poked at her mashed potatoes. "You can't mistreat a potato, can you?"

Melody crunched on a cuc.u.mber slice and looked around. "It's nice to eat in the dining room on a real table. Better vibes. The house needed its furniture back."

It was a screwy way to put it, Stephanie thought, but the furniture and the house definitely belonged together. Sounds no longer echoed through hollow rooms. Clocks ticked in soothing cadence. Etchings and oil paintings gave character to blank walls. It had taken only two days to get Ivan and his furniture moved in, and the transformation was amazing. Haben felt like a home. It felt like a haven. It wasn't just the architecture that had given the house its stability. The furniture was an integral part of the building, and as much as Stephanie hated to admit it, so was Ivan.

"How many bottoms do you suppose have sat on this chair?" Melody asked. "Think about it. A hundred years' worth of bottoms. And now my bottom is added to the list. It makes me feel so existential. It makes me feel at one with all the ghosts of bottoms past."

Lucy looked at Stephanie. "All the ghosts of bottoms past?" she repeated. "Excuse me?"

Melody turned her black-rimmed eyes to Ivan. "Tess is happier, too. Boy, was she ticked off at you."

Ivan b.u.t.tered a herb biscuit. "You've been talking to Tess?"

"I met her on the widow's walk the other day, and we've gotten real tight."

Ivan nodded. "Give her my best."

Stephanie reconsidered her pork chop. She sliced into it, stared at it for a second on the end of her fork, and decided she wasn't hungry after all. "I rented a room today." She took a slip of paper from her shirt pocket and read from it. "Mr. and Mrs. Platz from Lanham, Maryland. Apparently one of the guests on board the Savage told them about Haben. They're coming up to see the foliage. They'll be here tomorrow."

Ivan, Melody, and Lucy simultaneously turned to look out the big bay window.