Deep,DarkandDangerousSMASH

by Sydney Allan

  "But you know what your body is telling you." This time he chose a plump strawberry from the salad and slipped it into his own mouth. Chewing and swallowing first, he licked his lips then leaned forward and she braced herself for what she knew was coming.

  He was about to kiss her again.

  She held her breath, closed her eyes, and waited for his lips to meet hers. They did in a fleeting, teasing kiss, no more than a quick brush, really. Out of instinct, she licked her lips and opened her eyes.

  Strawberry. She tasted strawberry.

  He smiled and her face flamed. He lifted a hand to palm her cheek. "You are very beautiful. The moment I first saw you I knew I wanted you."

  That statement struck her mute. No man had ever said that to her, at least not unless they were either staggering drunk or joking.

  "I...uh, thanks." She missed the Kath Lewis who always knew what to say, the one who knew her own mind. Would she ever resurface from whatever nook she'd hidden in? "But, like I said, I can't sleep with a man I barely know."

  "Then you've never had sex with a stranger?" He leaned so close she had a hard time catching her breath.

  "A strange man, yes. A stranger, no," she joked. Not sure what to expect next, she was quickly becoming flustered and jittery and skittish. Her insides were hopping around like scared rabbits. Her instinct was to run. "Can we...back up a bit?" she asked as she gently pressed against his chest.

  That was one hard chest. Wide, too. Nice.

  "Back up?" He gave her a little breathing room, but not much.

  "Yes. Can we talk about something a little safer than sex? Like...er, the weather maybe?"

  "The weather looks good. I forecast calm seas ahead."

  "Last night was pretty scary. I've never seen so much lightning."

  "I have. Only once before..." He looked over her shoulder, out the window. His expression changed. He looked like he'd lost just a hint of his cocksureness.

  "Is something wrong?"

  He shook his head, then smiled. "No. Nothing wrong. I was just recalling the last storm I'd seen like that one. They are common, especially this time of year. Come out of nowhere sometimes, although I like to pride myself in being aware of the weather always."

  "I assumed so. I feel so stupid now. Like a big sissy for running around, screaming like I did. I swear I'm not that big a baby. Except maybe when it comes to large open areas of water."

  "I understand."

  "You seemed so confident, almost as if you were enjoying yourself. You set me at ease. Thank you."

  "Stormy or calm, I love the sea. It's my home, my first love."

  "What is it that makes it so wonderful?" She glanced out the window. While the sun rising over the eastern horizon, casing gold sparkles over the rippling water, was beautiful, it wasn't all that. Watching a sunrise in the country, the sky a mix of lavender and pink, and tall trees cloaked in orange, red, and gold leaves was just as beautiful. And she didn't have to take seasick pills to enjoy it either.

  "Much like women, the sea is challenging, dangerous, deadly yet she calls to me, tempts me, beckons with promises of freedom and riches." He looked far away as he spoke, as if he was in a distant land or time. There was a twinkle in his eye, a glimmer of something both happy and sad. When he looked at Kath, she felt as if she was finally seeing him for who he was, his spirit, the man behind the cocky, boastful womanizer.

  "We're here, on the ocean now, yet you seem sad, like you're missing something." She wanted to touch him, just an innocent touch, nothing sexual. She resisted, fearing he'd take it the wrong way.

  "Yes." He turned his gaze away from her again as if he didn't want her to see so much. "I am."

  "Are you married?"

  "No."

  "You miss your father then?"

  "I do miss him. However, he died many years ago. His life was hard. He died a young man, not much older than I am now."

  "Then you were just a boy when he passed away?"

  "I was a man. Maybe twelve, thirteen years old."

  "A man? You were barely out of elementary school."

  "Only in your world. Men age much faster in mine."

  "How terrible." She felt sad, for the boy he had never been allowed to be, for the pain she sensed in his voice, of which she guessed he would never speak. For the secrets he would probably never share with anyone because of his pride. "Maybe someday, when you have a son of your own, you can teach him all the things your father taught you."

  "I will not have a child. I will not marry." He crossed his arms over his chest, visibly reinforcing the closed position of his mind.

  "May I ask, why?"

  "My life has too much turmoil. I travel a great deal. It would be a very poor life for a wife and children. In this world children do not sail with their fathers. I would never see them. They would never see me. It wouldn't be good for anyone."

  "But don't you get lonely?"

  "I have...my way...of curing that."

  She didn't have to ask him what that was.

  "I had best get to the helm. We have drifted off course. The storm has forced us east, and the Gulf Stream is slowing our progress. I should check the charts and fuel and supplies, make sure we can make the nearest port."

  "Could we be marooned?"

  "You have nothing to worry about. I know these waters. We'll be safe." He stood. "I hope you will allow me to join you for dinner later?"

  "Sure."

  "Good." Looking pleased, he shook his head, then reached for her hand and kissed the back. "Until later, then."

  Turning on his heel, he walked in long, purposeful strides out of the room.

  Kath spent the rest of the morning and afternoon trying to relax, and trying to forget how the rumble of Morgan's voice felt as it hummed through her body. How her nerves tingled as his gaze wandered over her. How her knees got all wobbly and weak when he touched her.

  Of course, she failed miserably. The book she was reading, this time about a time travel with a pirate and modern day woman, only made her think about him more. In many ways, Morgan resembled the hero of the story. Strong, attractive, a bit of a male chauvinist.

  But in a way she was beginning to find him charming.

  Later that afternoon, she set the book aside and got ready for her dinner date with Morgan. Her special preparations included an extra-long shower, special attention to shaving, and lavender scented lotion generously applied to her whole body, with the exception of her head. She curled her hair and gathered it high on the top of her head, leaving flirty tendrils around her face and applied some shimmering lip gloss and eye shadow that emphasized the new golden glow her skin had gained, thanks to the hours she'd spent soaking up the tropical sun.

  Finally, she put on a pink halter dress that clung in all the right places and sexy sandals, and took a minute to admire the results of her efforts in the mirror. Even she had to admit she looked good, and she was usually quite the critic.

  More nervous than she was the night of prom, she took a few deep breaths and climbed the stairs up to the living room. The table was empty and Morgan was nowhere to be found. She rapped on the door to the room with all the driving stuff but his helper, the co-captain or whatever she was called, was in there and had no idea where Morgan had gone.

  Finally, she went up onto deck and grinned. There, she found a table set up in the center of the deck with a billowy white tablecloth and plates of food. Lanterns hanging from poles attached to the railing cast warm yellow light over the deck. That glow, combined with the warm light of the setting sun, created the most romantic atmosphere she'd ever seen, outside of a movie. Soft music played from hidden speakers.

  Still not seeing Morgan, she stepped up to the table to take a peek at the food.

  "I hope you don't mind. I thought it would be nice to dine outside tonight, under the stars."

  She turned around, finding him leaning casually against a wall. The second her gaze found his face, she sensed his passion, restrained, coiled tigh
tly, in the set of his jaw. "Not at all. It's beautiful out here."

  His gaze was a soft caress over her form. He pushed away from the wall, and strolled toward her. "No, you are beautiful." When he stepped closer, he reached out and lifted one of the corkscrew locks hanging from her temples. It curled possessively around his finger.

  Her gaze locked on his thumb as it stroked the lucky strand. She could imagine that thumb stroking some other parts of her anatomy, parts that had nerve endings. A flurry of butterflies launched into flight in her stomach.

  "Well, thanks for the compliment." She pressed her cool fingertips to her flushed cheek. "I honestly hadn't expected to wear this dress on this trip, but I packed it just in case. Actually, Marie, my roommate insisted."

  "I'll have to thank her later." His smile, a silent promise of all things forbidden, said much more than his words.

  She shuddered as he reached forward, but his hand continued past her. His chest inches from her shoulder, he gripped the back of a chair and pulled it out, away from the table.

  "Would you care to take a seat?" he whispered. His breath warmed her neck, and tingles zapped up and down her spine.

  "Thanks." Regrettably, she had to step away from him, around the back of the chair to get into position.

  Little tickly chills skittered over her shoulders as he pushed the chair in and leaned low to place a kiss on her collarbone. "My pleasure. I like this dress, love to see your shoulders. They're very sexy." He rounded the table and sat in the chair across from her. His smile still in place, he poured two glasses of wine and handed her one. "A toast?"

  "Sure." Her fingers brushed his as she took the glass from him and she drew in a calming breath in an effort to slow her racing heart. "Though I probably shouldn't have too much, with the medicine I'm taking."

  "To sudden thunderstorms and black lace," he said, lifting his glass.

  She laughed. "I'm not going to drink to that."

  He didn't look remorseful, nor did he lower his glass. "Okay. How about to...discoveries?"

  "Discoveries? That sounds safe enough." She tapped her glass against his and lifted it to her mouth. As she tipped it to drink, the tangy scent of the white wine filled her nostrils. It smelled wonderful and tasted even better. Smooth, sweet, light. It was the best wine she'd ever tasted. She could just imagine what her brother had paid for it. She took a second swallow then lowered her glass. "That's very tasty. I've never had such a smooth wine."

  "I agree, it's excellent," he said with a nod. "Now, for some food. I hope you enjoy the meal. I selected the menu, special for this night." He lifted the metal cover off the small plate sitting before her, revealing a small cluster of oysters, in closed shells.

  She grimaced and took a few more gulps of the wine. It went down smooth, nothing like what those yucky shellfish would do. "I'm afraid I've never been very fond of oysters or clams."

  "Please. You must try at least one. These are not common oysters. There is a very special surprise in each one. I think you will like them." He tipped his head toward the plate and nodded. When she didn't object, he handed her a fork.

  Not sure what he was trying to hint at, she eyed the collection of icky shells with suspicion and finished off her wine. What kind of surprise did one find in oyster shells, outside of the obvious–slimy oyster guts and an occasional pearl? Forcing the fork between the edges of the shell halves, she pried them apart.

  Slimy oyster guts.

  She glanced up at his face to see if he was joking. There was no sign of amusement on his face. He looked a little anxious as he encouraged her to continue with a nod, but he wasn't laughing.

  "I told you. I don't care for oysters," she reminded him.

  "There's something inside."

  With no choice but to believe him, not to mention a nagging case of curiosity that demanded to be appeased, she lifted the oyster meat with the fork. Underneath she found a very large, spectacular green stone. Despite the ick coating it, or perhaps because of it, it flashed brilliantly as the warm light from the nearest lantern struck the facets cut into the surface.

  Glancing up at him, she asked, "What's this? I've never heard of oysters producing...emeralds? It's supposed to be an emerald, isn't it?"

  "Yes."

  "What a cute trick. Thanks. Did you buy it at a novelty store somewhere?" She plucked the stone from the shell, dried it with her napkin, and took a moment to inspect it a little closer.

  Boy, that was one heck of a nice stone for a fake. It was huge. Colored glass or not, she just might have to take it to a jeweler and have it set in something. Considering the size of her hands, it was probably too large for a ring. Maybe a necklace of some kind.

  "Novelty store? No. I've had that stone for a very long time. It's a very rare emerald."

  "Oh." She felt her eyes widen. He'd given her a real emerald? For what? Speechless once again–this man had a real talent for doing that to her–she eyed the other oysters with suspicion. Surely he wouldn't put more gemstones in those too. "I-I don't know what to say. It's much too soon for you to be giving me such expensive gifts. Heck, we haven't even swapped phone numbers yet."

  "Are you going to check the others?"

  "Are you telling me there's something in them, too?"

  He looked pleased as he nodded.

  "Before I do, can you please tell me why you're doing this? If what you say is true and this is a real emerald it has to be worth a fortune. Why give it to me?"

  "Because..." He looked deep in thought as he hesitated and tipped his head. "It belongs to you."

  "What did I do–or I should say, what are you expecting me to do–to deserve this?" She studied his face, looking for an answer. No one gave away something for nothing. Everything she'd ever gotten, right down to the ugly nubby sweater her last boyfriend had given her for Christmas two years ago, cost her, in one form or another.

  He refilled her wine glass, then set the bottle back on the table. "If you do nothing but smile and say thank you, you've done enough."

  They all said that. She drank about half her glass–that wine was going down smoother by the second–then gave him an I-know-better-than-that smirk. "You're not expecting me to sleep with you?"

  He chuckled and reached forward to capture the lock of hair he'd held earlier. His gaze fixed on hers and leaning forward, he pressed the tendril to his lips. "I told you. I don't need to lure women into my bed with gifts. They come because they want to."

  She believed that. With every quivering cell in her body. She managed a nod, but not a whole lot more. He was so close and looked so good, smelled so good–of man and ocean and spicy cologne. She knew he tasted real good, too.

  He released the strand and pointed at the plate. "Aren't you going to check the others?"

  "Okay. But I warn you, if I find a diamond in one of them, I'm giving the whole lot back and spending the rest of the cruise in my room–alone." She had to, literally, tear her gaze from his. His eyes, so dark and stormy, spoke of pain and loss and passion, the proverbial window to his soul. She didn't want to look away. She wanted to know everything there was to know about him, even the silly things. "I still feel bad about accepting these. That emerald is worth a lot of money. What if someday you need that money?"

  "I have everything I need." He nodded when she didn't reach for another oyster. "Go ahead. Open them."

  "Okay." She selected a second one and pried open the shell. Under the white slimy guts she found a brilliant red ruby. In the three others she found a massive silver-hued pearl, a deep blue sapphire, and a beautiful gold coin with strange writing she couldn't read.

  After she'd opened each of the shells and arranged her treasures in front of her, she polished off the rest of her wine. She looked each one over, in awe of the beauty, color, and size of each of the gems. "I don't know what to say. Thank you."

  "You're welcome." His smile was warm and genuine. It–well, along with the two glasses of wine–made her feel happy, giddy, cared for. "I enjoy giving
gifts. Particularly to special women." He paused a moment and studied her, then dropped his gaze. "Now, we should eat, before our dinner gets cold." He took the plate of mangled mollusks and set it on the tray next to their table, replacing it with a tossed salad.

  Starved, she had to force herself to eat slowly. The delicious dressing and crisp, fresh vegetables didn't help. It was so tasty she was tempted to practically stuff it into her mouth. As she ate, she watched Morgan. His table manners weren't the most polished either. Relieved, she chuckled, which drew his attention.

  "You're laughing?" he asked, around a mouthful of greens.

  "I'm not exactly laughing. I'm just relieved. I was so worried about looking like a pig the way I was eating and then I saw you."

  "Are you suggesting I eat like swine?"

  "Well, not literally. I mean, you haven't buried your head in a trough or anything. But you don't exactly have the manners of a New York socialite either."

  "Perhaps you can help me learn some manners," he suggested with the type of smile she knew meant trouble.

  "For some reason, I suspect no one has been able to teach you anything in a long, long time," she teased, cooling her face by waving her hand.

  Both evidently starving, they enjoyed their meal in relative silence. Through a haze of semi-drunkenness, Kath watched him eat. She enjoyed catching him looking back at her, and appreciated the desire she saw in his eyes and the way he could make her melt with just a look. By the end of the meal, certain body parts, especially those below the belly, were very warm. And wet.

  When they'd both eaten their fill, she stood up to stretch and, on legs a little wobblier than normal, walked to the very front of the deck. Keenly aware of where Morgan was behind her, she looked out over the dark, calm sea and sky. She felt as if they were alone in the world, like no one else existed.

  Morgan slid his hands over her hips and wrapped his arms around her stomach. Flushed, warm, and secure, she leaned back until her spine rested against his chest. She smiled as she felt the lump of his erection press against her lower back. He kissed the top of her head.

  This moment in time was one of the most peaceful, most wonderful, most erotic she'd ever experienced.