On the bow, having already secured the sail, Javi hoisted an anchor from a storage compartment onto the deck and returned to the cockpit. Using the binoculars, he surveyed the area around them.
“I don’t see anyone else anchored.” He handed her the binoculars and took over at the wheel.
Cat scanned the area through the lenses. As predicted there were no other boats—the reason they’d made that crazy crossing. So why did Javi look uneasy? Maybe he was worried about the depth. Maybe he always looked worried. For a sail bum, he never seemed to relax.
“This is good,” he said with a nod at the depth finder. “See the difference in the color of the bottom?”
Cat nodded, noting the water surrounding them in places appeared lighter, other spots darker.
“The lighter color means sand, which allows the anchor to dig in better than sea grass. After I drop the hook, shove the engine into Reverse and give it a little gas until I signal to stop.” He held up a clenched fist to demonstrate.
Within minutes, Javi had dropped the anchor overboard. She set the hook by backing up, forcing the tines to dig into the sandy bottom.
When he gave her the signal, she placed the engine in Neutral and moved to the bow. Looking over with Javi, she gasped at the clarity of the water. It was impossible to tell the depth, but she could see everything on the seafloor, including their anchor on the bottom maybe sixty feet away.
Javi still looked worried, though.
“Best to visually check it,” he said.
Before she could respond, he’d yanked off his shirt, revealing the flat abs and muscular chest that sparked a tug of temptation every time she got a glimpse. Without another word, he moved to the stern, flipped down a ladder she’d never noticed and dove into the ocean. He swam in the direction of the anchor. With a furious kick, he submerged, came up once to take a huge gulp of air and then dove again.
He surfaced again and used the ladder to climb into the boat. Water sluiced over every visible muscle, pooling in the cockpit at his feet. Cat swallowed and forced herself to avert her gaze.
“It’s holding,” he announced.
She remained on the bow, checking out Gun Cay, waiting for the engine to go silent. She released a relieved breath when it did. In less than a day, she’d grown to hate the sound of boat motors. Now all she could hear was the sound of the wind gently clanging the rigging on the mast, the squawk of an occasional bird and the slap of water against the side of the boat, the tide either going out or coming in.
She couldn’t make out anything on land, just a green hump on the horizon, probably trees or mangroves. She looked forward to exploring tomorrow.
Leaning against the bow support, staring at the incredibly clear blue-green water around her, Cat again marveled at how alert she remained. She ought to long for sleep, but had no desire to climb into her bunk. She suspected Javi had already collapsed in his without bothering to tell her. If she was tired, he had to be beyond exhausted, although he didn’t act it. The man was like that battery-operated rabbit that never stopped. Good thing, too.
She and her friends had been nuts to insist on this anchorage.
This whole journey had been so new, so challenging, so completely different from anything in her past, that she didn’t want to—then she heard a distinctive new sound. But one she knew well.
The pop of a cork releasing from a bottle of champagne.
Was the captain celebrating their safe arrival?
She hurried to the cockpit and found Javi—still bare chested, but with a towel around his neck—pouring wine into two of the plastic flutes they’d used for mimosas yesterday morning. Was that really just yesterday morning?
“I thought you’d gone to bed,” she said as she accepted the champagne and sat facing him across the cockpit, pushing up sunglasses that were no longer necessary.
“I’m too wired,” he said. “You?”
“Definitely,” she agreed. “I’m exhausted yet wide-awake.”
“To your first crossing,” Javi said, holding up his wine.
“And a safe arrival,” Cat said, touching his flute with hers with a plastic clink.
They both took sips. Nice. Surprised, she glanced at the bottle and realized this wasn’t the inexpensive stuff she and her friends had purchased for morning mimosas. Must be the captain’s private stash.
“Were you worried during the sail?” he asked.
“I was terrified,” she admitted. “But strangely loved every minute of it. Well, almost. Not so much when you pointed out that shark following us.”
Javi laughed. “He thought we were his mother.”
“All I could think about was Jaws.”
“You did great, Irish. You’re good crew, and I appreciate your help.”
“Thanks,” she said, hoping the flush she felt in her face didn’t show but knowing it did. Great. Now that the adventure was over, she didn’t know how to act around the captain.
He moved to sit beside her, bringing the wine bottle with him to fill her empty glass.
“This is delicious,” she said after a healthy gulp, unable to think of anything better. Just keep drinking, Cat.
Javi murmured agreement and settled into the seat against her. “I’m surprised there isn’t at least one other boat here.”
“Isn’t it off season?”
“True, but there’s a legend pirates buried treasure in this cove.”
She glanced toward land and took another swallow. “Is there any truth to that story?”
Javi shrugged. “I doubt it, but a lot of cruisers like to anchor here so they can search.”
“Don’t tell Debbie. She’ll want to buy a shovel.”
“You’re very different from your friend Debbie.”
“She’s been through a lot lately,” Cat said.
“How long have you known her?”
“We met as freshman at the University of Florida.”
“And now she’s been through a divorce.” Javi nodded. “That changes a person.”
Cat took another swallow of champagne for courage. “Is that comment from firsthand experience?”
“I’ve never been married, if that’s what you’re asking. How about you?”
* * *
WAITING FOR IRISH to answer, Javi knew he was treading in dangerous waters. What am I doing? He shouldn’t be waiting for the sunset alone in the cockpit with a gorgeous charterer, sipping champagne and asking about her marital status. He should go below and sleep.
“Nope,” she said, confirming his assumption. “Never married.”
“Boyfriend back in Miami?”
“No. My orchid nursery keeps me too busy.”
“You raise orchids for a living?”
“A family business, started by my parents. I can tell that surprises you.”
“It’s an unusual profession.” Javi poured more champagne into her flute. “I figured you for a flight attendant.”
“Flight attendant?” She flushed again, and he was charmed. “Why?”
“Beautiful woman.” He raised his wine to her. “Beautiful smile.”
“Thank you,” she said, staring at her feet.
“Do I make you nervous, Irish?” Javi asked, making his voice soft.
She glanced up to meet his gaze, started to say something, but shrugged. “Definitely.”
Smiling at her honesty, he asked, “Why?”
She raised her glass in a toast similar to his. “Beautiful man. Dangerous smile.”
He laughed. “Dangerous?”
“You remind me of a pirate.”
“Do I, now?”
“Maybe it’s the earring,” she said.
He fingered his earlobe. “I had it pierced in Bali when I was eight.”
> “Did you sail there?”
He nodded. “With my parents. You don’t like piercings?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said.
“Good.”
He ran a knuckle down her cheek, and her eyes widened. Her skin was as soft as it appeared.
“Or maybe it’s your beard,” she murmured, not objecting to his touch.
“My beard?”
“That makes me think of you as a pirate.”
“But pirates are marauding criminals,” he said, continuing to stroke her cheek, fascinated by the stark desire in her glittering gaze. He’d known from their first meeting that she was attracted to him. She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell.
Champagne and fatigue made it easy to ignore the voice in his brain that cautioned him to back off. But even a saint would find it hard to resist a woman as sexy as Irish.
“I can easily see you doing some marauding,” she said.
“No way,” he said. “Believe me, I’m a law-abiding man.”
Leaning closer, his gaze tracked to her lips. She’d welcome a kiss, and he wanted to know how that gorgeous mouth would taste. Getting Irish into his bunk would be easy, although a disastrous move. The image of this siren naked and willing beneath him threatened his fragile grip on common sense. Talk about too much damned bubbly.
“So you’re a man who always sticks to the rules,” she whispered, her breath soft and warm on his chin.
Not always. He captured her mouth with his, and she made a surprised noise in the back of her throat. Her lips tasted of the excellent champagne he’d been saving for a special occasion, which he’d assumed would be when he returned to duty.
She returned his kiss, shifting closer. Encouraged, he deepened their connection. She placed her hand on his shoulder, severing his last shred of control.
He pulled back and smiled into her dazed expression.
“Let’s go below,” he said, cupping her face with his palm.
“Okay,” she murmured, her voice a sweet sigh.
He rose and took her hand. Her fingers closed around his, and she came to her feet. Back off, Javi. Back off before it’s too late.
Halfway down the stairs, another noise drowned out the warning bell clanging inside his head.
Someone in the head losing their lunch.
CHAPTER FIVE
CAT STARED AT Javi’s tanned, muscled shoulders as she followed him down the steps into Spree’s cabin. Is this really me? Or is this an out-of-body experience because of booze and lack of sleep?
She didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she was acting on pure impulse.
What was it about the captain that made her so reckless? When he’d dripped water into the cockpit after his swim, she’d had the insane desire to lick the liquid off his chest. Right now she wanted him to lay her down on the nearest surface and take her. She closed her eyes, imagining how he would feel inside her.
Was she really going to do this?
He’d have to put on the brakes because all she could think about was stripping off his damp shorts and touching what was inside.
Were they headed to his bunk or hers?
When Javi’s grip tightened on her fingers, she looked over his shoulder. The sight of a disheveled Debbie wearing an oversize T-shirt standing outside the bathroom roused Cat from her sensual daze.
The sound of someone being sick on the other side of the closed door jerked her back into the present.
She’d been so swept away by her lust for the captain she’d utterly forgotten about her friends.
Her sick friends.
Worse, now she was angry at them for spoiling her first—and probably last—chance to do something deliciously wild. To have an adventure.
All kinds of regret replaced annoyance when Javi dropped her hand.
“Debbie,” Cat said, stepping in front of the captain, her champagne buzz all but fizzled out. “What’s going on?”
Debbie glared at her accusingly, then shifted her gaze to Javi.
Cat sighed. Were they that obvious? Did Deb sense something between her and the captain?
“Joanie’s puking,” Debbie announced, her voice slurred.
“How are you feeling?” Cat asked. Had Deb been drinking again? Not that I have room to criticize.
“Groggy,” Deb said. “I probably shouldn’t have taken a Dramamine on top of the sleeping pill.”
Cat felt Javi slip away, but didn’t turn to watch. He was being considerate by moving into his cabin to give them a little privacy, but she wanted to go in there with him, shut the door and finish where they’d started on deck. Let it go, Cat. You know the whole kiss thing was a giant mistake.
“Where are we?” Debbie asked.
“Anchored off Gun Cay exactly like we planned,” Cat said, realizing Deb was too out of it to notice anything unusual between her and the captain. Thank goodness. The embarrassment would be bad enough without Joan and Debbie knowing about her foolish behavior. She’d never hear the end of it.
“We’ve already cleared Bahamian customs?” Deb asked.
“Hours ago. You guys slept through it.”
Joan poked her head out of the bathroom, her dark hair a tangled mess around her pale face. She wiped her mouth with a damp washcloth.
“Are you okay?” Cat asked.
“Better now,” Joan said. “I just wish the boat would quit rocking.”
“It should be a calm night,” Cat said. “The winds are forecast to die down.”
Joan shuffled into the main saloon and looked out a porthole. “Can we go ashore?” she asked.
“No,” Cat said, sitting on the sofa surrounding the table.
Debbie moved next to Joan and also gazed hopefully toward land.
“It will be dark soon,” Cat explained. “And that’s an undeveloped island. There’s nothing but a small beach.”
“Precisely like the guys in the bar promised,” Deb said.
“Damn,” Joan muttered. “We lost a whole day.”
“We can take the dinghy and go ashore at first light,” Cat said. She felt bad for her friends. So far their holiday sucked. “Tomorrow will be fabulous.”
“Maybe,” Joan muttered.
“How come you didn’t get sick?” Debbie asked.
Cat shrugged. “Just lucky, I guess.” She didn’t remind them she’d followed Javi’s advice and remained on deck while her friends insisted on going to their cabin. No sense making them feel worse.
“So what have you been doing all this time?” Debbie asked.
Cat inwardly groaned as her cheeks warmed. She could never hide anything. Her feelings were always obvious on her face. The curse of the redhead.
“Helping the captain with the boat.”
But her friends continued to study the anchorage and didn’t notice.
“I guess you learned how to sail,” Debbie said, still sounding sleepy.
“A bit. Are you guys hungry?” Cat asked. “Javi and I had a sandwich during the sail here, but that seems like a long time ago.”
“God, no. My stomach is a wreck,” Joan said, sitting across from Cat.
“How about a diet soda? Sometimes carbonation helps.”
Joan nodded. “Yeah, that sounds good.”
“Some vacation,” Debbie murmured.
“Sorry, guys,” Cat said. She stepped to the cooler and rummaged for sodas.
“It’s not your fault,” Debbie said, moving toward her cabin. “I’m going to bed. Until this sedative wears off, I can’t even have a conversation.”
“I hope you feel better,” Cat said.
She returned to the table with numb fingers and a couple of icy cans. She and Joan each popped a top, spraying cool mist, and Jo
an took a long, greedy swallow.
Wondering if Joanie had dumped too much too soon on an already queasy stomach, Cat also took a drink of the cool, sweet liquid. Maybe she should suggest they return to Florida. So far this trip hadn’t been much fun for anyone but her. And her enjoyment could be at an end now with that steamy kiss out there between her and the captain. She hadn’t known how to act around him before. How was she supposed to act now?
Sad to admit, but the scratch of his beard on her cheek had been the most erotic thing she’d ever experienced.
This was a small boat. He was the captain. No way to avoid each other. Would he act like nothing had happened?
How unfair to feel awkward about one stupid kiss. If she were going to be uncomfortable, she should have gotten the full experience and enjoyed what was sure to be mind-blowing sex.
“Oh, God,” Joan said, closing her eyes. “The soda didn’t help, after all.”
“Can I do anything for you?” Cat asked.
“No. Sorry, Cat, but I’m going back to bed, too.”
Leaving her can on the table, Joan lurched to her feet and barely made it to the bathroom before the sound of dry heaves began again.
Cat sighed. Just great. Now what?
She hadn’t come on this holiday to spend the week alone.
Tomorrow would be a fresh start. The obvious thing to do would be retire to her own cabin and get some much-needed sleep. She could read for a while. Remembering the spectacular sunrise, her gaze drifted to the porthole. Sure enough, the sky already showed tinges of pink. The guys in Hattie’s Hammock had promised beautiful sunsets in Gun Cay. She didn’t want to miss the first one.
Plus, she did need to eat. The door to the head swung open. Joan emerged and slipped into her cabin, shutting the door.
Cat focused on the closed door to Javi’s cabin. Was he already asleep? She could rap lightly on the door and find out.
Yeah, she could, but a different woman would. Too bad this one didn’t have the nerve.
She could use the excuse of offering food. That wouldn’t seem too obvious.
Stranded with the Captain Page 6