by Sydney Allan
"Morgan is fine, my lady." He reached for her hand and brushed his lips over the back of it before turning to leave the crowded room. "Very well," he said on a sigh. "I'll get back to my duties." He turned away and walked toward the row of narrow stairs that led up to the deck above. As he passed her brother, she didn't miss the angry glare Steven gave him.
For some reason, seeing her brother angry with Morgan didn't sit well with her. "He's been nothing but a gentleman while I've been waiting, Steven." Kath stood and gave her brother a quick sisterly hug. "Thanks for offering to take me on this trip. I'm nervous as heck but a little excited, too."
"You'll love it. Are you hungry?"
"A little though I should probably wait to eat until after we've departed. I want to make sure I'm not going to–you know–before I put anything in my belly.
"We already departed. We left port immediately after I boarded."
Shocked, she looked around the tiny room for a window. "Seriously?"
"Yep. So what do you say? Want to go up on deck and check for yourself then enjoy some fine dining? I want to hear what my big sister's been doing all these years."
"Obviously nothing as exciting as my baby brother has," she said, following him up the stairs.
They were already sailing and she hadn't upchucked yet and the captain was a tempting hunk–even if he was a bit of a jerk.
Maybe this cruise wouldn't be so bad after all.
Chapter Three
After the first night--the first ten minutes spent recalling all two of her noteworthy accomplishments and the next several hours listening to her brother recite a long, impressive list of achievements that would make any parent proud--Kath felt a little more at ease on the boat. The medication seemed to be doing the trick, and although she felt the gentle rocking motion as the boat trolled along on the relatively calm water, it didn't make her nauseous.
The following morning, a smiling Steven greeted her as he joined her for breakfast. They ate then chatted some more. Later, she lounged on the deck, taking care to apply a lot of sunscreen to avoid frying, and enjoyed the view of blue sky and blue sea. She could feel tension she hadn't even known was there slowly ease from her neck and shoulders. She dozed. She read a little. Just before docking at their first stop, she hurried to her stateroom to change.
As she finished dressing, a knock on the door startled her, for no apparent reason. The only person on board who made her uneasy was Morgan, and he had become invisible since Steven had arrived. She'd met the copilot-slash-cook, a kind, soft-spoken woman, but it seemed as if the captain was avoiding her.
That was probably for the better, but it was still a bit of a bummer.
After taking a few slow breaths, since the knock had set her on edge instantly, she opened the door, half-expecting, half-hoping, to see Morgan.
It was Steven and he didn't look pleased. "I need to talk to you. Can I come in?"
Curious and worried, she stepped aside to allow him into her room. She sat on the bed beside him. "What's wrong?"
"There's a serious problem in LA and I have to go."
It took a moment for the meaning of his statement to really sink in. Was he okay? Would her vacation–the one she'd waited for years to enjoy–be cut short? "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine. It's nothing that'll end the world, but it's something I have to take care of personally. I'm so sorry. I know you've been planning this trip for a long time. And that's what I want to talk to you about."
"Okay," she said, not sure where he was headed.
"What do you think about continuing on without me? I could arrange for your friend to be flown into the next port and she could join you if you're afraid you'll be bored."
"Wouldn't Marie just love that?" Kath said aloud.
"Does that mean you'd like to continue on?"
It didn't take her long to realize that she wanted to continue. Not only because she was enjoying the relaxation, but also because she was hoping she might get to spend some more time with Morgan.
She was bad!
"Yes. Marie has some vacation time left. She might not have three weeks, but I'm sure she can get at least two. I'll call her."
"You don't have to. It's already been done." He gave her a guilty grin. "I was hoping you'd say yes. You deserve this trip. Enjoy it, big sister. I've never told you how much I appreciated all you've done for me since mom and dad died."
"I did it because I loved you."
"Well, now it's my turn to give back to you. I have all of this because of you. I want to share it with you now, give you a better life."
"My life is fine. All I did was pay a little toward your college. I never expected you to become a hotshot computer whiz making zillions of dollars. I just wanted to make sure that you would be able to take care of yourself, since mom and your dad were gone."
"We'll talk more later." He strode toward the door, eyeballing Marie's picture sitting on the dresser. "I will repay what you've done for me, one way or another. Marie will be joining you tomorrow afternoon. She's on a plane now. After talking to her, I'm sorry I won't be able to meet her."
"Thanks, Steven. Maybe you'll meet her another time. Go take care of whatever it is you need to take care of. I'd be happy if it isn't ten more years before we see each other again."
"Not a problem. I'll make sure it won't be." With a smile, Steven left her room.
That evening, she didn't bother going ashore. Touring a tropical island by herself just didn't sound like fun. Instead, she relaxed in the living room and enjoyed a spicy romance novel, a time travel about a modern day woman and a medieval prince. If only those kinds of things truly happened! She'd love to meet a man from the past, see if they were anything like the ones described in novels.
She laughed at her own silly thoughts as she snuggled into bed that night, and watched a little bit of some dull movie she'd never heard of on TV before dosing off. Sometime later, she woke up as she was tossed against the wall. The boat seemed to be pitching back and forth underneath her, rocking wildly. Scared, she scrambled toward the door, staggering as the frenzied motion under her feet continued.
She used her arms, one extended on each side, to brace herself as she climbed the stairs up to the living room. Once inside the larger room, however, she found it much more difficult to walk. There wasn't enough furniture to cling to.
Her heart pounding as gut-wrenching fear wound around her and squeezed like a huge python, she dropped on hands and knees and crawled toward the window, half afraid to look.
She couldn't see much, outside of the spray of water as rain pelted the glass. She saw no stars, no sky, only darkness, and her own reflection. However, what she heard was enough to make her crawl under the nearest fixed object and hide. The wind was howling like she'd never heard and she feared the boat was going to capsize.
She called out, "Hello?" hoping the cook or Morgan would hear her.
No one answered.
"Anyone? Hello! Is everything all right? Are we sinking or am I just overreacting? Someone answer me!"
No one.
Had they all fallen overboard? Was she on the boat alone, in the middle of the ocean? Would it sink, leaving her to float on some piece of wreckage until she was eaten by–gulp–sharks?
Despite the seasick medicine she'd taken like clockwork since she'd left home, she upchucked in a waste paper basket. Her eyes full of tears, her arms and legs trembling, her throat burning, she called out again but no one answered.
Was there some kind of radio on board? She needed to radio for help, now! The Coast Guard. Someone had to be out here.
Her stomach rising with the waves, she crawled, scrambled and otherwise made her way toward the doorway that led into the part that she assumed housed the driving gear. Clinging to a nearby table, she banged on the door, hoping someone might be in there. When no one answered, she tried the door. It fell open just as the front of the boat dipped forward and she more or less flew in the general direction of Morgan, who was
standing at the big steering wheel. She hit him with breath-stealing force, yet he didn't budge. Nor did he release the wheel to help her up.
"Please go back in the salon," he said calmly. "This is no place for a woman."
If it weren't for the rain pelting the windshield and the crazy rocking, she'd swear nothing was going on. He was cool and collected as could be but he didn't take his gaze from the wide windshield in front of him.
"No place for a woman?"
"We can discuss our differences later. Right now I need to attend to something a little more important. I ask again, kindly return to the salon. I can call Stella for you if you need something."
"No, that's not necessary. But...the storm...I was afraid–" she said, more or less peeling herself off his back and scrambling for something to hold onto.
"It's just a squall, nothing to be afraid of."
"Nothing to be afraid of? In whose book?"
"We'll be through it in no time." One hand firmly gripping the steering wheel–his knuckles white–he used the other hand to help support her until she had herself safely settled into a chair.
"No offense," she said as she watched a wall of water heading toward them, its size highlighted by the strange blue light of hundreds of lightning bolts zapping through the sky, "but are you sure you know what you're doing? We're going right into that wave! Won't we–" the rest of the sentence cut off as she instinctively sucked in a breath and held onto the chair for life. It looked as if the entire boat had plunged under water. She swore she saw sea critters flitting around the front of the boat, maybe even a shark or two. "Maybe I should put on a life vest?"
"Yes, good idea," he said, obviously struggling to steer the boat so it didn't plunge head first into another huge wave. "There are a few stowed behind you."
Turning, she found the bright orange vests and with trembling hands slipped one over her head and secured it around her chest. "Do you want one?"
"No. I'm fine."
"Oh, yeah. You probably live by that captain-goes-down-with-the-ship philosophy."
"This boat won't be going down, at least not today," he stated matter-of-factly, and as she felt the boat's movements smooth out, she began to believe him. "However, we are getting off course. Once we get through this storm, it may take us an extra day or so to get to port."
"Poor Marie. She'll be stuck on a beautiful island, sipping margaritas by the seashore," she joked.
"It sounds like she may be disappointed when we eventually arrive."
"Perhaps. Depends upon how cute the cabana boys are." She clapped her hand over her mouth then mumbled through her fingers, "That was a stupid thing to say. Sorry. I tend to make stupid jokes when I'm nervous." She couldn't believe she was making jokes, now. And maybe even flirting a little. In the middle of a storm!
Morgan's confident stance as he steered the boat until it was practically skimming over the top of the waves, eased the worst of her fears. As she stared out the rain-battered windshield, she wasn't so much afraid of capsizing, but instead wondered how long it would take before they arrived at port so she could tell Marie about her big adventure.
A little danger, when faced beside such a strong, confident, capable man was...exhilarating.
When he didn't ask her to leave again she contented herself with sitting silently and watching him. He was a sight to behold.
She guessed she sat there for hours, studying each of his features in profile. His brow bone was strong, his cheek high, his jaw set, his expression one of calm determination. The muscles of his forearms flexed as he adjusted the steering. The lower part of his broad, sculpted biceps showed under his short sleeve shirt.
His waist was surprisingly narrow as were his hips. His jeans, which still looked wet–he must have been out in the rain–hung low on his hipbones and clung to his round butt.
Finally, he glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. One side of his mouth lifted. "Well, well, well. Aren't you a sight?" His gaze meandered over her form and, forgetting what she'd been wearing when she'd raced out of her room in blind fright, she glanced down.
What she saw–or rather, what she didn't see–left her speechless.
All this time she'd been sitting there in black lace bra, panties, and an orange life preserver? I'm such an idiot! Although the life jacket covered a fair amount of her chest, most of her stomach was showing and the skimpy black lace panties on bottom left little to the imagination. She was sure he could tell she'd just had a Brazilian wax.
"I had hoped to get another look at those, but never expected it to be so soon," he said, his smile broadening. He flipped a switch and a female's voice answered, "Yes, Captain?"
"I'd like you to come and take over for me here. I think we've seen the worst of the storm. I'd like to get some sleep." He winked at Kath, suggesting he had something else entirely on his agenda.
"Yes, Captain."
"As much as I adore seeing you this way," he said, "I'd suggest you either cover up and wait for me to escort you or go to your stateroom without me. I will join you shortly, either way."
Well, that was mighty bold of him. Then again, considering the fact that she'd been sitting there for hours in her underwear, she could hardly blame him for misunderstanding. No doubt he'd assumed she'd done that intentionally. She didn't suppose he'd believe the truth.
Now what? Morgan did not look like the kind of man who could be put off. If he came to her room, he'd expect one thing. If she had no intention of giving him the pleasure of that one thing, she'd be the worst kind of tease to openly invite him to her room.
Huh. What an awkward situation!
"Actually, I think I should probably go down to my room, by myself, and get some sleep."
"Are you certain?" he asked. She hadn't thought it possible, but one of his eyebrows rose even higher.
"Yes." She nodded and hesitating to turn around, because the scant back panel of the panties didn't exactly hide all of her rear end, she stood and backed toward the door. "I'd better...get going before Stella shows up. Could you just imagine what she'd think?"
"I could," he answered in a low rumbly voice that made her shudder.
"Thanks for letting me stay here with you. I'm such a wimp."
"You were fine, considering this is your first voyage." He followed her as she slipped her fingers into the latch that would open the door and pulled. But before she successfully escaped, he caught her shoulders in his large, strong hands and gazed down into her eyes. "We will be together before this voyage is over, my lady." He released her with a smile of satisfaction. Not caring about her butt half hanging out of her panties, she turned and hurried out of the room before she threw herself at his feet and begged for him to take her.
She believed every word of his proclamation.
God help her, she was thrilled!
Chapter Four
The next morning, to her chagrin–and joy–Morgan joined Kath for breakfast. She felt so stupid for the night before, the underwear, the over-the-top reaction to the storm, all of it. Stella set Kath's breakfast before her and gave Morgan a friendly smile before quietly slipping away.
Morgan didn't say a word, which made Kath even more self-conscious. It didn't help that her breakfast included enough food for a small army. Did Steven tell his staff to stuff her like a pig?
She stabbed her fork into the tropical fruit salad but didn't bring the captured morsels to her mouth. "I think they've forgotten my brother isn't here to eat all this. I can't imagine consuming so much food in one sitting. I'd feel guilty as heck for a month." She motioned toward the plate of eggs, toast, bowl of oatmeal, fruit salad, and platter of baked goods.
"You should eat as much as you please."
"If I did that, I wouldn't fit into my clothes by the time we docked."
"It wouldn't matter. You would have little need of clothes."
She gave him what was meant to be a warning glare but was probably more of a half-hearted smirk. "I see you're a typical male. You have one t
hing on your mind twenty-four, seven."
"I don’t deny that. And I don’t apologize for it either. I am a man with a healthy appetite for many things, sex included, however–"
"And I see you don't beat around the bush, so to speak, either."
"I have never been anything but straight-forward, but you misunderstood–"
"And let me guess, women always fall at your feet?"
He grinned. "Does that bother you?"
"No. It's none of my business," she answered, trying to look casual and confident, totally opposite from how she felt. This man was so intense, so sexy, and in-her-face seductive she didn't know how to react.
"You’re lying." His gaze fixed on her eyes, he lifted her forgotten fork to her mouth, delivering a juicy piece of melon with it. She closed her lips around it and savored the sweet flavor as he gently pulled the fork away and selected another morsel from the bowl.
She chewed and swallowed before responding, "What do you expect me to say? The idea of you with other women makes me crazy with jealousy?"
He lifted another piece of fruit to her mouth and she accepted it. "That would be a start. I won't lie to you. In return, I expect you to tell me the truth, always."
She chewed and swallowed. "How can I be jealous? We're strangers, nothing to each other. I have no claims on you."
"But you would like to have, wouldn't you?" He selected a piece of pineapple from the fruit salad and lifted it to her mouth. "The truth."
"I have no idea, if you want the truth," she said before accepting the delicious pineapple into her mouth and chewing. After swallowing, she added, "You confuse me. I don't know my mind when I'm around you."