~|¤|~ In the Wind ~|¤|~

Author's Ramblings: Yea! Chapter two is here! I'm not gonna write the disclaimer anymore -- check the first chapter. This chapter takes place before James goes walking on the beach and sees Ry. Around noon, or so. This chapter's a long one, just to warn ya.

Reviewer Thanx: Cookies and hugs to my reviewers: netsirk, tiffany, derian, and ANONOMYS. And even to those who read it but didn't review!! *hint, hint* ^_^ Enjoy!!

Chapter Two: Meet In-the-Wind

The phone rang, destroying his concentration.

James Danvers looked up from the screen of his expensive computer and blinked, dazed. His blue-green eyes were unfocused. He rubbed his short, tawny beard, shook his head briskly, and tried to concentrate on the here and now rather than on the ever-changing interplay of wind, hull, water, and sail.

Through an open window near the cherry computer desk, the scent and sound of ocean waves poured into the room, calling to James at a deeper level than words. The Santa Ana wind had blown Southern California's usual smog all the way to peaceful Catalina Island. The land lay revealed in all it's bronzed, late summer splendor. The ocean was a shimmering, restless turquoise.

He should be out there on the water, feeling the Wind Warrior heel over as her sails filled and she stepped into the wind.

Again, the insanely persistent phone rang.

James glared at the dainty instrument. He hated all phones in general and this one with a special passion.

The phone rang for the eight time. James blew out a breath and flirted with the seductive idea of ignoring the phone and slipping back into the computer-driven virtual world where he tried out new ideas for catching every last whisper of wind in a ship's sails.

The phone rang. Number nine.

With a muttered curse, he saved the most recent design changes, snatched up the silly pink reciever in his big hand and snarled hi usual telephone greeting.

'What!"

"Swear to God, Danvers, you gotta work on your manners."

Most of James' irritation vanished the instant he recognized the voice. Nicholas Harrington was one of his favorite people.

"Why should I work on my phone etiquette?" James asked, stretching his long, rangy body and yawning at the same time. "You're the only one who has my cousin's telephone number."

Harrington made a pleased sound. "Then you're actually in Laguna Beach? My call hasn't been forwarded to Tierra del Feugo or some other benighted place?"

"I'm here, pink phone and all."

"Excuse me?"

"My cousin redid the house since my last visit. Pink. Pink. More pink. Repeat. PINK.

"You're surrounded by pink?"

"Mostly, yeah. Lavender, too. Scary."

"Um. I'd like to see that. The thought of a man your size lolling around in a pink villa is…interesting."

"So visit me," Travis retorted. "I'll put you in the special guest room, the one with the candy-striped canopy bed."

Harrington snickered. "Does this mean you'll be having the Wind Warrior's hull repainted in fuchsa?"

"I should hang up right now.

Harrington ignored James' warning. "I just wanted to make sure she's all slicked up for her debut…"

James drifted off, flexing the muscles in his back and shoulders and trying to work out the kinks that came from spending hours bent over a computer. His tall, rawboned body had been designed for physical work. If it weren't for his lengthy morning swims, he wouldn't have been able to sit still long enough to use his fancy computer.

Harrington still hadn't stopped talking.

"What's this about my ship's debut?" he asked tiredly.

"Remember my idea for a splashy coffee-table book featuring your, your ship, and your designs?"

James remembered. "Suddenly the pain in my neck just moved lower. A lot lower."

"Stand up and walk around," Harrington said cheerfully. "God made bodies like yours for action, not computers. I've hit upon the perfect photographer."

James had no problem following the non sequitur. "If this is another of your-"

Harrington kept talking in the manner of a man who knew he was going to have a hard sell for a pet project. "Donovan! I don't know why I didn't think of her sooner. She-"

"You did," James interrupted ruthlessly. "I vetoed it."

"Did you? Why?"

"One word. Female."

"Rather narrow-minded of you."

"Thank you."

There was silence, then a long-suffering sigh. "Swear to God, Danvers, you can be a real pain in the butt sometimes."

James grimaced and looked out the window to the rock-lined beach and the endless sweep of the Pacific Ocean. He knew he was being unreasonable. Using one lame excuse or another, he had also turned down all male photographers Harrington had mentioned. James didn't want to be bothered with having an outsider underfoot on the Wind Warrior.

But he owed Harrington a lot, and Harrington had wanted to do this book for several years.

"You're in Laguna," Harrington said neutrally. "Donovan lives in Laguna."

Nic-" James began.

The other man ignored him. "You're going to be there for at least a few weeks. Your ship is at Dana point. Donovan has a car. She's familiar with ships, both power and sail."

Silently James groaned. He had always known he was going to give in to his friend about the damned book. "All right, all right. Set up a meeting with this photographer for - what day is this?"

"Sunday."

"Toward the end of the week, then. We'll see. No promises."

"Next Thursday. I'll leave the details on your answering machine."

"Don't have one."

"Buy one. Or use E-mail. God knows you can afford the best. You're a hard man to get hold of."

"I like it that way."

"In-the-Wind Danvers. You and Donovan should get along just fine."

And uneasy prickle went over James. "What does that mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"Such a nasty bark. All I meant was that Donovan, like you, gets too wrapped up in her work to care about mundane things like sleep or answering telephones."

James wasn't buying it. "My bite is worse than my bark. Keep it in mind."

"Truer words never muttered. Don't use your teeth on this one. She's a particular friend of mine."

"As in mistress?"

"Donovan?" Harrington laughed sadly. "Not in the past, not now, not ever. She doesn't like the opposite sex. The other thing you two have in common."

"I'm quite fond of the opposite sex."

"You like sex. It's not the same."

"And you don't?" James retorted.

"I like women," Harrington said simply. "Sex is part of it, but not all of it. Women genuinely see the world from a different point of view. Each time I think I've figured them out, they surprise me."

"Rather like designing and sailing a ship."

"If you really believe that, you've been getting far too intimate with your ship."

"Ships don't screw you," James almost snarled. "What you put into them, you get back."

Silence.

"Tina was a long time ago."

James' hand tightened around the receiver. Tina had been a savage lesson in the difference between men and women. He had had years to get over the depth of her betrayal. He couldn't change his past, but he could make damn sure it never happened again in his future.

And he had.

He had simplified his relationships with women to mutually beneficial business transactions. No hard feelings and no regrets between consenting adults.

Harrington sensed it was time to change the subject.

"Well, this book shouldn't be tough duty."

"Why? Is she easy on the eyes?"

"Donovan is a pro. She could teach you about hard work."

"So she isn't good looking."

"She's a photographer, not a future mistress. What do you care what she looks like?"

"Just curious."

'All right. Get the answering machine. You'll be hearing from me."

The connection closed before James could say anything.

"Well, then." He huffed, and turned back to his computer.

The sweet tang of the salt air was fast curing the aches from the days work. James breathed in deeply, enjoying the heaviness of the dusky air in his lungs. Having a job that required work other than physical labor definitely had it downfalls.

And the prospect of having to deal with some photographer who was just looking to appeal to "his inner artist" as they all called it. And this time, the photographer was female. He really wasn't in the mood for yet another shallow, superficial "relationship".

Another burst of salt air buffeted his side. James turned his face to open sea, and then his whole body. The majestic colors in the sunset were smoothly reflected in the blue shimmering mass that was the ocean. Here and there, rocky outcrops disturbed the serene lapping of waves against the shore. It was there that the water broke viciously, turning the shiny black rocks into a lounging dragon flanked by mysterious clouds that dissolved and returned, dissolved and returned.

Sweeping his gaze across the beach below him, a starburst of fiery red caught his attention. When he looked more closely, he saw that it was a woman.

Indeed, it most certainly is a woman, He observed appreciatively. From where he was standing, it looked like she was wearing a hunter green halter-top and cutoff jeans. The rugged shorts emphasized her long, slender legs and small white shoes. The rich auburn hair that had caught his attention was twisted into two French braids, one hanging over each shoulder. Not too shabby… but as soon as the thought was out, he mentally slapped himself. No more shallow relationships, remember? A beautiful woman like her isn't looking for anything but money. And you've got plenty of it. He grinned grimly to himself. The perfect prey.

But at the moment, she didn't look threatening at all. In fact, she looked like she was the one who needed help. She had somehow gotten herself stuck on one of those rocky outcrops, and her path back to shore had disappeared.

So James preceded to try and catch her attention by yelling to her. He pitched his voice as he did on the open sea when he had to be heard over the chorus of the wind whistling through the sails. It did no good.

Holding what looked to be some type of camera over her head, she gingerly started to climb down from her rock. She fought against the first wave successfully, but when the second wave whipped against her, she swayed dangerously.

He shook his head and jogged down the beach toward her.

Keladry stayed upright through the first wave without too much trouble. Because she was still clinging to the rock, the water only reached up to her waist. The wave felt too cold on her sun-warmed skin and much too powerful. It forced her against the rock in a breathless hug. The cutoff jeans and cotton halter-top she wore weren't much protection against the sharp edges of rock, barnacles, and mussels.

"Get on with it," she told herself through her clenched teeth. "You swim in a lot less than you're wearing now."

Watching the sea rather than the shore, alert for the occasional larger wave, Ry eased all the way down the rough shoulder of the rock. She had to cross a narrow trench, then a smaller ridge of rocks, before she reached the sandy shelf leading to the beach. The waved were coming so quickly now that she wouldn't be able to take more than a few steps in the lull between the breakers.

The next wave was a big one. It caught Ry and slammed her back against the rock she had just abandoned. She scrambled desperately for balance on the slippery, uneven surface. The boiling surf wrenched off one of her canvas deck shoes. She felt a searing pain along the side of her right foot as unprotected flesh scraped over sharp barnacles. Her arms waved wildly, trying to balance her straining body.

It was impossible.

When she felt herself falling, she cried out against the destruction of her trademark lens.

Just before Ry went beneath the wave, something yanked her upright. At the same instant, the weight of the zoom lens lifted from her fingers. Reflexively she fought losing her grip on the costly, vital lens.

"Hold still, wildcat. I'm not going to steal anything."

Author's Ramblings: Well, what happens now? They finally meet in the next chapter, so it's sure to be a good one. Sorry if this chapter was a little long, but I had a little fun on the conversation between James and Harrington. ^^ Tell me what I need to fix! Review!!

Hasta luego,

-Star