by P. J. Mellor
Her hair was plastered to her skull. Her mascara had made a hasty retreat, leaving black streaks down her face, as well as beneath her eyes. She reached to rub at the streak, but it refused to budge.
Dang mascara had promised to withstand crying, rain, pretty much anything. What the manufacturer forgot to mention was it would transfer to places it was not supposed to be and then indelibly stick. Even the wet washcloth on the sink didn’t make a dent in the mess.
She refused to think about what that washcloth had touched since it was last laundered. Still, she couldn’t help recoiling and dropping the thing into the sink.
“Towels. You’re down in this hellhole for towels. Stay focused,” she whispered.
“What are you mumbling about now?” Ben’s voice was directly behind her, by the open bathroom door.
Hand over her galloping heart, she glared at him. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here.” His arms spread to encompass the little cabin. “Welcome to my home.”
“I don’t care where you live! I meant, what are you doing down here? Why aren’t you up there driving the boat?”
“Engine stalled.”
“Well, fix it! I’m paying you to take me out to the island—”
“Well, fix it,” he said in a falsetto voice. “If I could just fix it, I wouldn’t be down here having this asinine conversation with you!”
Nausea washed over her and she wasn’t sure if it was from the rocking motion of the boat or what her companion in her current fiasco had just told her.
Sinking to sit on the edge of the toilet, she gazed up at him, willing her tears to go away. “We’re stranded?” she finally managed to say around the constriction in her throat. “Won’t someone be looking for us? Surely, someone will rescue us.”
“Don’t call me Shirley.” He grinned down at her. “Lighten up, it’s a joke. As for being rescued, don’t count on it. No one knows exactly where we are. Including me, at the moment.” He scratched his chin. “Aw, don’t look so shocked. Happens to everyone now and then. We were being tossed around pretty good. It’s easy to lose your bearings.”
Holding the sink, she stood up and backed him toward the hall. “You assured me you were the best, the only one to take me to the island.”
“I said that?” He raised his eyebrows, blue eyes twinkling, and she had the distinct impression he was holding back a laugh. “I musta been drinking.” He raised his hand. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m good. Damn good. But I’m not sure I’d call me the best.”
“Then what are you?”
“Available.” His teeth flashed white in his tanned face. “And you were desperate. Great combination. It was a match made in heaven.”
“Rick told me there wasn’t anyone better to take me to the island.” Valiantly ignoring the brush of her breasts against his chest, she wedged her way out of the bathroom.
“Yeah, well, Rick chose his words carefully. Bottom line, there flat-out wasn’t anyone but me available.” His warm fingers touched her lips, holding her mouth shut. “So, there really wasn’t anyone better. He wasn’t lying to you.”
The boat must have hopped a wave because one second she was standing there, trying to decide how to get away from the man in front of her, and the next her feet left the polished floor. When she landed, it was against the warm human pad of Ben Adams.
His arms shot around her.
The boat rocked in the storm, rubbing her pelvis against his.
To her horror, he was not unaffected.
10
“That better be something in your pocket,” she hissed.
“I don’t have anything in my pockets.” Realization must have dawned because a smile came to his face. “Oh! Sorry about that. No, wait. Why should I be sorry? You’re the one who’s rubbing all over me.”
“I never!” Struggling, she couldn’t quite touch her feet to the floor. “Will you put me down?”
He shrugged. “Whatever turns you on. I’m game. You’re so skinny, I bet you have to run around in the shower to get wet.”
She gaped, suspended in his arms.
“You said to put you down. It was the best I could come up with on short notice.”
“Did your mother drop you on your head when you were a baby? I meant, let me go!”
He paused for a few seconds, then shook his head. “No, I don’t believe I’m ready to do that yet.”
With a sigh, she looked into his eyes, refusing to be impressed with the clear blueness of them. “Let’s try this again. Take your hands off of me and go back up and drive the boat. Please.”
“I told you I can’t do that. Not yet, anyway. Must’ve taken water into the manifold. It needs to dry out a spell.”
“Dry out? Dry out?” She knew she was beginning to raise her voice—okay, she was more likely yelling in his handsome face. Not that she necessarily thought he was handsome. He wasn’t her type. But there were some women, she knew, who might find him marginally attractive. “It’s a hurricane out there! How could it possibly dry out?”
“First off, it’s not a hurricane, it’s just rain. Second, I know what I’m talking about when I tell you the engine is wet. I’d explain it to you, but it would take too long. The gist of it is we took on water where there should not have been water. Now we wait for it to drain out so we can restart the engine and be on our way.”
“That’s it?” It really wasn’t too bad, being in his arms, but she felt kind of silly, just hanging there.
“That’s it.”
Her mouth hovered closer to his. All the reasons why it would be a bad idea to kiss him ran through her mind. First off, of course, he was so not her type. Second, he was her employee, of sorts. Third, he already needed a shave. Fourth, his eyes were too blue. Okay, she was starting to stretch for reasons why kissing him would not be smart.
Against her breast, his heart beat, its steady rhythm soothing her into a lethargic state. A sexually lethargic state, assuming there was such a thing.
“I want to kiss you.” His voice was a low, intimate rumble that vibrated her chest.
Her heart rate accelerated, her breathing became shallow. “Oh?” Should she tell him to stop? Should she tell him she wasn’t interested? Heck, who was she kidding? Every nerve ending stood at attention. If she tried telling him she wasn’t interested, no doubt a big sign would flash across her forehead that said LIAR. Maybe she should just stop analyzing everything and lean into it. Let nature take its course….
“Yeah,” he said with a half smile, turning as he swayed from side to side. “But I’m trying to restrain myself.” He dropped her to bounce on the mattress that filled most of the little back cabin.” ‘Cause you smell like puke.”
Mouth agape, she watched as he gave a jaunty little salute, then turned and made his way out of the cabin.
A few seconds after he disappeared above deck, the door opened again.
Scrambling to sit up and trying her best to look alluring, while not too eager, she was crestfallen to see her tote bag tossed to the table.
Immediately the door slammed shut, water dripping around the edge.
She found it easier on her stomach to stand than to sit or, heaven forbid, lay. With tentative steps, she made her way to the tote bag, then back to the bathroom. Thank goodness she always carried toothbrush and toothpaste for just such occasions.
Who said this trip had to be all business? She honestly couldn’t remember the last vacation she’d taken.
When Ben Adams came back down, she’d be ready and waiting for him.
11
More relieved than he’d readily admit, Ben let out a sigh when the engine kicked over. Although it was still deep water, he’d dropped anchor just to keep them from drifting even more off course. After pulling up anchor, then double-checking their vicinity, he pushed the throttle down and headed for Serenity Island before he did something stupid. More stupid than he’d already done.
Hell, his stupidity knew no bounds these days. Despit
e his grandmother’s pleas, he’d let his diploma gather dust while he played beach bum. When Gram had died, he was filled with remorse and tried to drown it in booze. He’d come out of his three-year drunk to discover not only had he neglected to pay the property taxes on the island, neither had his grandmother for a few years before her death. Now he could very well lose everything his grandparents had left him, and he had no one to blame but himself. He knew better.
Eyes squinted against the rain, he could barely make out the dark silhouette of the island. Swinging the boat starboard, he made for the dock he knew was there. If they could get there, and do what Blondie wanted to do, and get back, they may just make it to Sand Dollar before the worst of the storm moved in.
Stupid weather. How many times had everyone hunkered down for nothing? How was he to know this was the real deal? Of course, he’d never admit he’d made a mistake to the woman below. Not yet, anyway.
And, damn, he still wanted to kiss her. All over. Just goes to show how hard up he had become, to lust after a bag of bones like Reese Parker.
But she hadn’t felt all that bony when she’d been pressed against his eager body.
“Get those thoughts out of your mind, Adams.” He leaned forward, willing the boat to cut through the water at a higher rate of speed.
The sooner they made land, the better. If he’d stayed below a few minutes longer, no telling what fool thing he’d have done.
Reese smelled the minty freshness of her recently brushed teeth as she clamped her hand over her mouth and rolled from side to side on the overly soft mattress, where she’d fallen when the boat lurched forward.
Good thing Ben had not returned, she told her libido. Even though she knew he was not her type, she had no doubt they’d have ended up naked on the dubious cleanliness of the sheets she was currently wrinkling.
Yes, she was that desperate.
Watching the Dragon Lady and her playmate hadn’t helped the situation.
Reese’s love life was a barren desert these days. She listened to the rain pelting the boat windows and bit back a laugh. She’d almost ended her personal dry spell—literally and figuratively.
Her finger touched the motion sickness patch behind herear. Though only in place for a few minutes, it seemed to be working. Of course, she had nothing much left to throw up, so who knew?
A glance at her watch confirmed they should be at the island by now. Rick had told her it was about an hour from Sand Dollar, by boat, and it had been that and more. If they could make land soon, she might be spared the further humiliation of another bout of seasickness. Maybe.
She was certainly feeling groggy, all of a sudden, like she could almost take a nap. Must be the side effect of the patch, she decided, standing on wobbly legs to strap on her life jacket again before going up on deck.
Her deck shoes were cold and made little squishing sounds with each step.
“Ick,” she said, gripping the handrail and taking tentative steps on the ladder.
A deep breath still did not sufficiently brace her for the wind and stinging wall of rain that slapped her in the face, knocking her back.
With a shriek, she swung by one arm when her feet lost their slippery grip on the steps.
Eyes trained on the dock ahead, Ben spared a second to glance back when he heard his passenger scream. Immediately he wished he hadn’t.
Reese clung to the rail of the ladder, swinging by her arm, the other arm clutching her ridiculously oversize bag to her chest like she feared muggers.
The woman was, without a doubt, more trouble than she was worth.
When he was sure the boat wouldn’t stray off course if he abandoned his post for a minute, he lunged for her, pulling her up and to him in one gut-busting movement.
Damn woman was going to end up giving him a hernia. Or ulcers. Or both. Assuming she didn’t make him wreck his boat first and drown.
“Why didn’t you stay below?” He had to shout his question over the roar of the wind and rain. Through the mist, he could see the shape of the old dock. He breathed a sigh of relief. They were still on course.
“Rick said it was less than an hour by boat,” she shouted back.
He chanced a quick look back over his shoulder. Seeing her huddled by the door, clutching her stupid purse, the life jacket snugged up to her chin, set off a riot of emotions deep within. None of them good.
She was bossy and generally irritating. She was skinny. She had way too short hair for his taste.
And, right now, he’d like nothing better than to strip her bare and lick her all over.
No doubt about it, he’d been alone too long, when someone like the drowned rat of a woman huddled on his deck aroused him.
And, son of a bitch, did she ever arouse him.
The question was, what was he prepared to do about it?
The answer was not a damn thing. Well, not a thing except take her for every dime he could wring out of her and hope the town could scrape up enough to help him pay the back taxes.
A movement to the side caught his attention. Reese was moving forward, scanning the water of the gulf like a little scared bird.
“What are you looking for?”
“The island, of course, I—oh!”
He refused to feel guilty for the roughness of his touch when he grabbed her, ignoring the fragile-feeling bones beneath his hand, and turned her in the opposite direction to make her look directly at the island. Then he pointed for good measure. “There it is.”
“Sit!” he yelled as he navigated toward the bleached-out wooden dock.
“Excuse me?” She drew up, her bony arms clutching the tote in front of her like a shield.
Releasing the wheel for a second, he motioned to the bench built next to the anchor bay. “I don’t have time to fish you out of the water again.”
Pulling back on the throttle, he glided up to the dock and cut the engine.
“Stay!” he commanded, hopping to the dock to tie off, before dropping anchor for good measure.
“I’m not a dog!” she yelled over the rain.
He shoved her aside to drop anchor, then stepped back onto the dock. It only took a second to realize she was not following.
Turning back, wiping the rain from his face, he saw her digging around in her bag. “Now what are you doing? What are you looking for?”
“My umbrella,” she answered, still intently searching. “I know I had one in here when I left home.”
“Are you fucking nuts?” When she looked up at him, he waved his arms. “It’s raining like we need to build an ark! We’re soaked to the bone. What the hell do you need an umbrella for, at this point?”
Looking snooty as all get-out, she climbed up on the dock. To his further irritation, she shielded her eyes from the rain—it obviously was not against sunshine—and proceeded to do another three-sixty visual search.
Hands on hips, he glared at her. “Now what? Misplace the island again? I’ll give you a hint.” He pointed so hard it pulled the muscles in his shoulder. “It’s about twenty feet that way. Walk to the end of this dock and you’ll run right into it.”
“No need to be obtuse,” she said with a sniff as she pushed past him, almost knocking him into the churning water. “For your information, I was just trying to get my bearings. But I can’t see Sand Dollar. Or any land, for that matter.” Thin shoulders shrugged beneath the sunny yellow shirt plastered to her skin. “I guess an hour boat ride takes you farther than I imagined.”
“Blondie, I have no idea how your imagination works and I have a feeling I don’t want to know. But I will tell you one thing. You’ll never see Sand Dollar from here.” Leaning close enough to touch the tip of his nose to hers, he tried not to get sucked in by the pale blue of her eyes. “It’s on the opposite side of the island,” he said with a grin, then shoved past her to walk to the shore.
Casting a nervous glance up at the dark, ominous-looking clouds and getting a face full of rain in the process, Reese made her way to the e
nd of the dock.
Ben paused on the path at the top of the hill leading to his grandmother’s hotel and watched Reese pick her way along the jagged stepping-stones.
Damn, it was fun picking on her. More fun than it should have been. More fun than he’d had in longer than he cared to remember.
Damn the tropical storm for ruining his fun.
12
Prickly vegetation scraped at her arms and snagged her clothing as Reese made her way cautiously up the steep walkway.
At one time, she could imagine, the hotel grounds had been magnificent. In a tropical-jungle sort of way, anyway. Would the Dragon Lady have the grounds cleared or try to preserve the island’s historical integrity? She had a sinking feeling her boss would do the fastest, most financially expedient thing and bulldoze the whole mess under.
The thought made her a little sad.
Wait. What did she care? She was quitting after this trip. She’d never know what was or was not done to the island or the old hotel.
Right now, her job was to inspect the grounds and building and decide how high to bid on the property. Of course, then she’d have to get the price okayed by the Dragon Lady. Yet another reason to move on. Her career was at a standstill.
Her shoulders slumped. Rain pelted her head and back as her steps slowed.
Maybe Paige was right. Her job was a dead end and her career was nonexistent. Why had she stayed so long, allowed herself to become a virtual lapdog for Dorinda?
No more, she vowed, walking faster to catch up with Ben. Her steps slowed again when she noticed how nicely he filled out his shorts, the wet fabric clinging enticingly to the curve of his firm backside.
A sigh escaped her. At another time, in another place, they might have made a connection. Maybe even hooked up. She wasn’t naïve. She knew there was something, some kind of spark, between them.
But, for now, she needed to focus on the reason she came to the island and do her job so she could go home and resume her life.
The stepping-stones curved. She had to concentrate to find the stones amid the overgrown grass and weeds. Were there snakes on islands? Snakes could swim, couldn’t they? So, there would be nothing to prevent them from coming to an island, or even taking over one that was deserted. The thought sent a shiver through her and she hurried to catch up to Ben.