Brent felt a vice-like grip on his stomach at the thought of her being hurt.
“How long ago?”
“About six months.”
She seemed as forthcoming on details as he had been about his parents. But to his surprise, she continued.
“I was in the car with a drunk driver.”
The way she said the words and challenged him with her eyes, it sounded as if she expected censure.
“And the driver?” he prompted.
“Was fine. Actually, it wasn’t as bad as my parents would make it out to be. He thought the truck in front of him was taking the yellow light so he stepped on the gas, but the truck hit the brakes. The passenger side of the car went under its rear bumper.” Jill looked down at the candle flickering in the middle of their table. “I don’t know. It happened so fast. My leg got caught underneath…and there were a couple other injuries. But really it was nothing major.”
“He?”
This injection of jealousy was foreign, but damn, he was human.
Jill shook her head. “He’s someone I know from work.”
“Were you close?” Stop it, Coales. What the hell business is it of yours?
There was a smirk on lips that glistened. “We went out. I wouldn’t say we were close.”
He wanted to express his resentment. What are you doing with a guy who would dare to hurt you−who would jeopardize your safety? But wasn’t that hypocritical? He was that guy. He was endangering her.
“Jill−”
“Don’t even say it. I see it all over your face. He was no good for me. You are no good for me. Blah. Blah. Blah. I suck with men.” She reached for her small black purse and pushed the chair back. “We better get back. It’s getting late. Thank you for dinner, Brent.”
Brent rose. The table was small enough that he could reach for her wrist across it and give a gentle tug until she walked around to his side.
“Is the knee strong enough for one dance?” He leaned in close and whispered, “you can hold onto me.”
Jill looked at him and then he saw her eyes slice towards the couples gliding to the soft tune of steel drums. He had never danced with a woman to a steel drum band next to a moonlit ocean before−and he wanted to with Jill. He wanted it bad.
He had presented the question as a challenge, is the knee strong enough, knowing her well enough to realize she would not concede to weakness. Again, he felt the coward.
“One dance.” She held her pointer finger up until he wrapped his fingers around that wrist and gently urged her onto the concrete patio.
The second his arms went around her he knew he was done. It was like hugging the essence of a spring morning−with the budding sun, the sweet scent of honeysuckle and the soft texture of the sheets. Jill felt like all the comforts of life wrapped in a single sexy body. He drew her in tight against his chest so that she had no choice but to loop her arms around his neck.
“See?” he murmured against her ear. “Just hold on to me.”
***
Too much wine. The intoxication was responsible for her need to hold him. Granted, she’d barely touched her second glass of wine, but surely the alcohol was to blame for the bout of lightheadedness…not the scent of soap at Brent’s collar. Maybe her knee did require support, although both knees felt equally weak. She needed to distance herself from this man, but splaying her body against him was not a good start.
“Why are we doing this?” she asked his broad shoulder.
Brent sighed and she felt his breath tickle her bare skin. “That’s a good question. In two days we have to go our separate ways and I can’t make any promises that I’ll ever see you again. At the moment I can’t even entertain that because I don’t know what’s in store for me.”
“Dammit, Brent.” She drew back enough that she could search his eyes. In the candlelight they were dark, with golden bursts of regret and determination reflected off the flames. “You shouldn’t−”
“Shhh−”
His mouth was so close to hers that she felt his hushed message dust across her lips. Her eyelids dropped at the sensation. Instinct nudged her body impossibly closer so that she could feel the rustle of his shirt against her bare collarbone. She could feel the buckle of his belt against her stomach. The hard length of his thighs scraped against hers. She had no choice. She had to hold on tighter.
“Are you okay?” he whispered a breath away from her mouth. If she angled her head just slightly she could satisfy the desire to reach his lips.
“Mmmmhmmm.”
Concentrate on the music, she thought. Move to the Latin rhythm. But as her hips swayed to that beat she felt Brent’s hands slide down her back to possess them. He used that grip and pulled her hips to his. With a husky curse, he whispered, “God help me,” and he kissed her.
She lost her footing and nearly stumbled, but he splayed his hands across her lower back, a few of his fingers resting on the swell just below. She linked her arms tighter around his neck and parted her lips to feel him mate with them. His growl vibrated across the connection and he used his grip to press her tight, revealing his need. Jill gasped at the hard sensation, and her kiss turned aggressive. Brent eluded that aggression, aware that they were on the outskirts of the dancing crowd. He tamed the sweep of his lips, but it only proved to be kindling for the combustion taking place inside her.
Jill didn’t need the pressure of Brent’s hands. She nudged against him and felt the hard nip of his mouth in return, but she felt triumphant at the increasing signs of his passion. Despite his attempts to keep their union under control, it spiraled when he parted her lips for a brief lap at the warmth inside. Retreating, he pressed his forehead against hers as he stopped long enough to whisper, “We need to take this back to the ship.”
“Unnnhmmm.” She wanted his kisses and couldn’t stand the wasted second it took to produce a coherent word.
Brent chuckled. “Baby, look at me.”
He was speaking. She wanted him to stop speaking and kiss her. She angled her head in an attempt to reach that elusive prize, but he let go of her hips and raised his hands to either side of her face, his palms warm against her cheeks. He used that leverage to draw her back far enough to look into his eyes. Oh, that was no better. They tempted her as much as his mouth. She hummed with expectation.
“Jill,” he whispered. “We need to go so that I can touch you the way I want to.”
His hand left her cheek to reach behind his neck and grasp one of hers. He kept that connection and used it to coax her from the dance floor. She was aware of several curious glances, but could care less about their reproach. Her eyes were for the tall man with the dark, cowlick-ridden hair that watched her with an appetite to match her own.
They walked hand in hand on the pier leading up to the Neptune Majesty, and though Jill might have sprinted, Brent held her to a leisurely pace. At a shadowed point between the lights, he stopped.
“Is the knee holding up?” Concern or residual desire made his voice husky. “I can carry you the rest of the way.”
Jill snorted. “The knee is fine. Let’s go.” She tugged on his hand, but he remained immobile and drew her against him.
“Kiss me,” he whispered.
Jill was tucked into a cocoon against his body, the tropical night breeze unable to reach her in this shelter. She tipped her head back and his lips crushed hers. Gone was the restraint from the restaurant as his mouth possessed her in the manner she craved. She clung to his shirt collar and lifted up on her toes to brush her mouth against his.
“Woman, you’re killing me,” he murmured.
“You stopped us here,” she whispered back.
Brent smiled. She couldn’t see it, but she felt it against her lips before he slipped one more kiss and said, “We’ve got about two hundred feet to go. Seriously, is your knee okay?”
“Keep it up, Coales, and I’ll be throwing you over my shoulder and carrying you in.”
***
As soon as he passed through the
entryway of the Majesty, Brent could feel his anxiety mounting. Tonight had been surreal−a tempting escape from reality into the pleasure of Jill Perry. In this parallel universe he allowed himself to believe that they could have something together, but the harsh illumination of the catacomb of corridors reminded him that danger lurked around the corners. And more accurately it loomed in his imminent future. A future he could not share with her.
Brent could still see the passion in Jill’s eyes as she cast a glance his way. Their hands were linked like they were a normal couple on a stroll back to their cabin. Feeling better on his turf, Brent turned down the hallway leading to his stateroom, but Jill yanked him to a halt. A blush rose to her cheeks and she seemed to fumble for words.
“I have to stop at my cabin.”
Oh? Was she thinking ahead? Had she brought protection−because he sure as hell hadn’t brought any on this trip.
Her shoulders sagged and she added, “Knowing my mother, there’s a chance she could be sitting in my room waiting for me.”
Brent laughed out loud and it broke some of the tension in his muscles. How refreshing she was. How genuine. He had never had anyone so real in his life, and he loved the fact that Jill’s mother might be waiting in the cabin at this second. He felt a fondness for both women.
“And what if you show up with me?”
She looked up at him with a coy grin. “She’ll probably mortify me and give me a ‘thumbs up’ signal.”
Brent laughed. “I like your mother.”
Jill rolled her eyes and extracted the key card for her room, but Brent stopped her. Something was wrong. The door was ajar. Perhaps it was just that Jill’s mother was sitting inside, but it didn’t feel right. He possessed no weapon to protect them−not that he would know what to do with one. Brent didn’t like guns. He didn’t like them at all. Now, all he could do was to position Jill behind him, trying to disregard the panic that suddenly welled in her eyes.
He motioned her to stand outside the doorway and he held his index finger to his lips to indicate silence. She nodded as he could see her throat bob.
Brent pushed against the door and it swung open several inches but stopped as it hit an obstruction. Through that gap he already determined that the cabin had been ransacked. He listened but heard no movement. Pushing against the door, this time it budged and he pointed to Jill to stay where she was. From her angle she had not yet seen the damage and she continued to stare at him with anxious eyes. He pressed through the opening.
To Luis’s credit, the destruction was not to anything personal. It might appear to the cruise ship that Jill had been burglarized, but as best Brent could estimate, her belongings were all intact and scattered on the floor. What was malicious however was the use of a knife to carve through the bedspread and slice the teal drapes, as well the cushions of the loveseat to expose its foamy innards. The mirror over the vanity was shattered and taped to it was a letter with his name.
My associates do not want any feds involved.
Short and sweet, Brent thought. He could only guess that Luis was a grunt for his associates, but it didn’t prohibit the troll from being dangerous. He had been resourceful enough to track Brent down and learn the location of Jill’s cabin. He probably knew they were on the island and had plenty of time to exact his destruction.
What if Jill’s mother had walked in on this…or worse, walked in on Luis? Goddamnit.
Behind him he heard Jill’s ragged gasp. He turned around and saw her standing in the doorway with her lips agape and lines of tension forming at the corner of her eyes.
“Why?” she mouthed.
Brent went to her and reached for her arms, drawing her inside the cabin so that he could block the view of the damage to the outside world.
“Make sure everything is here, and as soon as we can we will go report this to security,” he said, trying to arrest the cerulean eyes that darted from object to object. “After that, you will go stay with your mother, and−” he hesitated, “−this is over. You can’t see me again.”
Her racing gaze halted and narrowed on him. Her lips clamped together and he could see anger take over her features.
“That’s it?” her voice wavered, but he sensed it stemmed from annoyance and not emotion.
Brent frowned. “Yes, that’s it. Do you have any idea how disgusted I am with myself right now?”
Jill dislodged herself from his grasp and started picking up dresses off the floor. She stooped and retrieved her open suitcase, lifting it onto the bed and began to drop her clothes into it. She reached into the drawers that had been hauled open and tossed the disarrayed innards into her suitcase.
“Jill?”
She wasn’t speaking and it was killing him.
Jill stood with her back to him. Golden strands of hair dipped down her back as she tilted her head up in some sort of silent appeal. She dropped a pair of shorts into the wheeled suitcase and turned around with her arms crossed. Her expression was pained and her eyes seemed a little too moist.
“This−” she held her hand out at the damage, “−is not about me. This is a message to you. And you can’t just dismiss me.” Her head shook and her fists curled up at her sides. “You can’t just send me on my way after kissing me like that. I mean−maybe yes−maybe it’s easy for you. Maybe you were looking for a little action to tide you over while you waited to get to Santo Domingo, but for me−” One of those clenched fists reached up and rested above the neckline of her dress. “I’m a fool and I care about you, and I’m worried. Yes, I should walk away. You are trouble, and I need to distance myself from this. I need to try to pretend none of this happened because it is just another car wreck in my life. But−”
Brent reached for her and pulled her against him. He rested his head atop hers, feeling the silky hair brush against his chin and cheek, smelling the scent of honeysuckle there. “Okay,” he whispered into it, his lips brushing that silk. “Okay.” He wrapped his arms around her and held her so tight he could feel her heart hammer against his chest. There was resistance to his embrace, but he would not relent.
“First,” he started, “I do not want to be another car wreck in your life. And second−” he reached up and hooked a finger under her chin, tilting it back so he could look in her eyes. Yes, they were definitely brimming with unshed tears. The sight produced pain in his chest.
“Second,” he said, “−don’t you understand that it was after kissing you like that, that everything changed. Up until that point I could convince myself that there was nothing going on between us. But Jill, dammit, this was not supposed to happen. I was not on this ship to meet someone. Look at your cabin! You need to get away from me. Now.”
She leaned out of the reach of the finger beneath her chin, so he settled it back on her bare shoulder, cursing how good her skin felt.
“You were with me tonight because you thought I was in danger. Now, you’re pronouncing it safe for me to go on my merry way.”
She was right, but he didn’t have all the answers. The only thing he was certain of was what a fool he had been.
“I have to stop playing games with myself,” he said. “I convinced myself that you needed to be protected, but I was with you tonight because I wanted to be. Kissing you wasn’t a matter of protection.”
Jill made a soft sound of protest in her throat and pulled out of his embrace. She went back to packing her suitcase and then surveyed the damaged furniture. He could see her hand shaking, but it was the only sign of distress he could detect.
“I’ve been tailing Luis, and he’s tailing me−and this is a dangerous game that you can’t be part of.”
She closed the suitcase and zipped it up. When she turned he had to caution himself not to reach for her.
“I can’t go to my mother’s cabin right now. It will scare her.”
Torn by what was right or wrong, Brent wanted her with him. Even if she had listened and left him, he would still spend the remainder of the cruise watching over her
. All he could think now was to keep her close for two more days, and then−then he would release her to go on and live a safe and happy life without him.
He stepped forward and grabbed the handle of the suitcase, hoisting it off the bed. “Come on.” With his free hand he reached for hers, but he did not pull. He waited for her to move of her own volition.
“Where are you taking me?” she whispered.
“You’re going to my cabin and as soon as the security office opens we’ll report this. We can explain to your mother in the morning that your cabin was broken into, and that I slept on my couch and let you have the bed.”
Jill’s mouth formed a small o shape, but she joined him as he walked to the door.
Chapter Six
Jill’s eyes followed the blue wave painted down the corridor. At every other door, the wave crested. She grew so accustomed to the pattern that she almost toppled forward when they reached an intersection.
“I’m down this way,” Brent said in a quiet timbre.
She stared down at their joint hands as if they belonged to other bodies. Brent’s scar blazed a stark contrast against tan skin in the artificial lighting. Keen eyes searched all four spokes of the intersection before he started off towards the right with her stepping up her pace to keep up. Her knee was beginning to throb, but she felt his urgency and wanted nothing more than to be safe in his cabin right now−at least safe from the outside world.
At his doorway, Brent motioned her to stand behind him. Sliding his key in the panel, the green light flashed and he opened the door, shielding her body with his arm. After a suspenseful moment he waved her inside and then she heard that blessed sound−the door handle clicking shut behind her. For the moment his tormenter was outside and they were safe in here.
Jill went directly to the loveseat and sat down, kicking her heels off and rubbing her knee. She wasn’t aware that Brent was watching her until he knelt before her and cast aside her hand, replacing it with warm palms as he massaged the pain away. The rudimentary pleasure of the massage worked wonders on the tendon, but the sensation of his touch−the intimate caress of his hands against her stockings sent shocks of pleasure up her thigh.
Emotional Waves Page 7