“Sounds precarious.”
“They launched the boats and made it to a barren island. Shackleton knew their only chance of rescue was to reach the whaling station at South Georgia, an island eight hundred miles away, but that meant crossing one of the worst seas in the world in an Antarctic winter.”
She didn’t know which was more soothing and seductive, the soft purr of the car or the deep timbre of Alec’s voice. She decided that he could read the telephone book and still keep an audience captivated.
“I’m guessing this didn’t have a happy ending.”
“Surprisingly enough, it did. He took one of the ship’s boats, the James Caird, and a handful of men. They knew they’d be facing hurricane winds and high seas, so they reinforced the boat, did what they could.”
“They made it?”
“Yes, and then rescued the men left behind. Shackleton showed tremendous leadership.”
“You’re going to talk about him?”
“I’m going to talk about the Endurance and the James Caird.”
“So you’re their go-to boat guy.”
He smiled. “I suppose I am.”
And he was good at it.
She didn’t
tell him that the day before when he’d been working, she’d sneaked onto the internet and watched him on YouTube. It had taken less than five minutes for her to see why he had such a large female following. She’d watched everything, sometimes twice, and it had been clear why he was in such demand as a presenter. “I’m envious.”
He slowed as they reached the turning to the cottage. “Why? I can’t imagine you’d particularly like Antarctica. Harsh, inhospitable, temperatures that make winter in Maine seem balmy—”
“It would be an adventure. And there’s no such thing as bad weather, only bad clothing. And think of the light, the shadows, the luminous effect of low sun on ice—”
He was silent for a moment and then he killed the engine and stared out to sea. “You’re a surprising person, Skylar Tempest.”
She told herself that surprising could be good. So did that mean he’d just paid her a compliment?
It bothered her how much she hoped it did.
She was acutely aware of him. Of the power of his thigh so close to her own, of the strength of his hands and the width of his shoulders.
He’d go to Antarctica, he’d fly off on his next adventure, and then what?
He’d come back here and live in his cottage on the cliffs, buried in his books.
“Will you promise me something?” She felt the tension ripple through him and carried on quickly. “Don’t shut yourself away here when you’re back from Antarctica. Get out there again. You’re a smart, interesting, fantastic guy and you should be with someone equally fantastic.”
It was a moment before he replied. “You’re taking over the role of mother?”
“No, I’m taking the role of friend. You shouldn’t be using what happened with your ex-wife as a reason to avoid relationships.”
“I’m not avoiding relationships, just a certain type of relationship.”
She laughed. “The one that requires you to book early if you want the Plaza in June.”
“That’s the one.”
Her laughter faded and she put her hand on his thigh. “You should get out there again, Alec. You should bury your cynicism somewhere in the bay along with all those shipwrecks and you should move on.”
There was a long silence and then he turned his head to look at her. “Why?”