Stormy Vows

by Iris Johansen

  “What the hell!”

  The exclamation erupted from the king-sized bed, and Jane froze in horror as her eyes flew in the direction of the sound. The voice had been rough and masculine, and she experienced a ghastly sinking sensation as she realized to whom it must belong. She turned to flee, but it was already too late. The shadowy figure launched himself from the center of the bed in a tackle that knocked her neatly from her feet and pinned her to the carpet.

  Jane struggled frantically, her fists beating at the wide shoulders, her body writhing and kicking beneath the heavy masculine weight that was holding her helpless.

  Suddenly she froze with shock as her touch communicated a frightening fact to her startled brain. My God! The man was nude! Her fists relaxed, and her palms slid tentatively over the hair-roughened chest, then glided exploringly over and around his hips to gingerly touch his hard buttocks. She jerked her hands away as if they'd been burned. It was true!

  “Damn!” the man swore harshly, as his hands moved over the revealing softness of her body beneath the masculine attire. He roughly tugged the woolen cap from her silken curls, which smelled faintly of vanilla. “Not another one! This must be some kind of record. Two persistent women in one night!” His hands moved exploringly down her throat to the delicate curve of her shoulders. “Why not?” he drawled. “I'm finding your rather bizarre approach quite tantalizing.”

  Incredibly, Jane felt his loins lift and then rub with sensual aggression against her own, and she made a sudden movement of protest. He rapped out roughly, “Lie still, damn it!” Then his mouth covered hers.

  Jane inhaled sharply in breathless shock as the warm hard lips pressed demandingly on hers, expertly parting them to invade her with savage intimacy. It was a bizarrely exciting sensation to be held helpless under that virile male body while his lips and tongue toyed with her own with ruthless expertise. The swiftness of his physical attack had left her dazed and bewildered, and the passionate onslaught of this nude stranger was suddenly met with a primal reaction from her woman's body. An aching warmth flooded her loins, and the tips of her breasts hardened in response to the stimuli his body was feeding her. Her lips opened yearningly to allow him eager access in his delicious love play.

  He gave a deep groan of satisfaction, and his hands closed slowly over her small high breasts.

  The intimacy of the caress caused her to stiffen in surprise. Abruptly Jane came to her senses. What was she doing? she wondered wildly. She was deliberately inviting the man to rape her! She resumed her frantic struggles against him with renewed desperation. The man's nude body was hardening in arousal, her movements acting as a provocation rather than a deterrent, she realized helplessly.

  His mouth left hers and buried itself in her throat. “Be quiet, woman,” he said thickly, his tongue teasing the hollow of her throat. “Give me what I want right now. I'm not in the mood for games tonight.”

  “No!” Her protest was smothered by his lips once more, and her mind searched frantically for an escape route. He was much too strong for her struggles to be anything but a minor annoyance to him. Her mind arrived at no answer, but her body acted instinctively to protect itself.

  Her strong white teeth fastened on his sensual lower lip, and she bit down viciously, holding on like a terrier until he jerked his head away with a roar of rage. His weight was suddenly lifted from her, and she quickly jumped to her feet.

  Jane experienced a moment of disorientation as her eyes eagerly searched the darkness for the outline of the cabin door. There it was! She made a swift movement toward the portal, but she had waited too long. The cabin flared into brilliant light.

  two

  THERE WAS NO QUESTION THAT IT WAS JAKE Dominic who stood at the light switch by the door, Jane thought resignedly. She had no problem recognizing the face from the newspapers. The black frown on his face gave his features a distinctly Mephistophelian cast. High cheekbones, sensual mouth, and dark expressive eyes lent him a satanic charm that was augmented by the black brows, one of which was slightly crooked, giving him a look of perpetual mockery. It was entirely in keeping with the cynical set of Dominic's mouth and jaded weariness in the ebony eyes. His crisp dark hair, worn slightly long, was ruffled from their struggles, and made him appear wild and careless.

  Tall, broad-shouldered, slim-hipped, his whipcord body possessed a virile magnetism that was blatantly attractive. Jane's eyes dropped in fascination to the springy dark hair on his bronze chest, which gradually narrowed to a thin line as it reached his flat stomach. Her gaze flew quickly back to his face as her own face flushed scarlet. Dominic stood there as arrogantly unconcerned as if he were fully dressed, but she did not have the same sang-froid. She'd never been alone with a naked man, and she felt desperately uncomfortable—though perhaps she had better begin worrying about Dominic's emotional rather than his physical reaction. The man looked absolutely furious, black eyes blazing, nostrils flaring. His lip was bleeding freely where she'd bitten him, the sensitive flesh already starting to swell.

  Jake Dominic's stormy gaze had become riveted by the lettering on the wall, and he stared at it incredulously. Jane turned and surveyed her handiwork with dismay. In three-foot cursive letters was the spray-painted slogan NO NUKES, and below it, in even larger letters, NUKES STINK. It was fortunate that it had been dark when she'd used the paint, she thought absently. If she'd seen the loveliness of the rich walnut paneling, she could never have brought herself to desecrate it.

  Dominic's gaze returned to Jane, noting the tousled red hair and wide, frightened golden eyes. His eyes lingered for a moment on the swollen pink lips before he leaned indolently against the wall and wiped his hand over his bleeding lip. Though his face was still angry, there was a trace of amusement in his voice as he drawled softly. “Well, I'll be damned. If I haven't caught myself a baby terrorist.”

  Jane lifted her chin indignantly. “I'm no such thing,” she argued defensively; “I'm a protester, not a terrorist.” She gestured to the wall. “There's nothing in that to fill anyone with terror.”

  “It's a question of semantics, is it?” he asked lazily. “Regardless of what you may call it, you will admit that it's blatantly illegal.”

  She nodded reluctantly. “I suppose it is, technically.”

  “Technically, hell,” he said roundly. “Vandalism, destruction of property, breaking and entering.” He touched his lip gingerly. “And assault.”

  “Assault,” she gasped, the angry color pinking her cheeks. “I was defending myself. You were trying to rape me.”

  “Rape!” Dominic exploded, his eyes sparkling dangerously. “I don't have to rape women. You were more than willing, my little terrorist. Your hands were all over me.”

  “Only because I couldn't believe that I had a totally nude, bare-assed pervert on top of me,” she shouted, her golden eyes blazing. “Why the hell don't you wear pajamas?”

  A look of astonishment wiped the anger from his face. “I haven't worn pajamas since I was ten.” His black eyes gleamed strangely. “You'll forgive my insensitivity, I trust. It's not often that I have a baby burglar drop in on me without invitation.”

  Suddenly her anger was gone, and she drooped disconsolately. What difference did any of it make? She had been caught, and she was frighteningly aware that the consequences could be more serious than she had dreamed before Dominic had reeled off that staggering list of charges.

  “If you're through amusing yourself at my expense, I'd appreciate it if you'd just call the police and get it over with,” she said dejectedly.

  “Oh, yes, the police,” Dominic said idly. “I suppose we had better call someone in authority.” He reached for the white telephone on the table by the door and punched a number rapidly. After a moment he spoke into the receiver, his eyes still fixed on Jane's pale, weary face. “Hello, Marc. I'm sorry to wake you, but I think you'd better come down to my cabin. It seems we have an intruder.” He replaced the receiver gently and turned back to Jane. “Now, while we're wa
iting, why don't you make yourself useful and clean up this lip? It's beginning to sting damnably.”

  Jane's eyes darkened with concern as she responded instinctively to the appeal for help. The lip was looking uglier by the minute, she noticed guiltily. It must be very painful. She impetuously moved forward to stand before him, touching the lip tenderly with a finger. “I hurt you,” she said huskily, her eyes swimming with tears. “Please forgive me.”

  Her tone was patently sincere, and even Jake Dominic's cynical appraisal could detect no false note in the heartfelt apology. He smiled curiously, his dark eyes flickering. “I have the glimmering of an idea that you're not a very good terrorist, redhead.” He took her hand and pulled her gently toward a door on the far side of the room. “Come along and play Florence Nightingale.” He opened the door to reveal a luxurious bathroom, decorated in various shades of blue.

  Jane followed him docilely into the small compartment, and while he half sat, half leaned on the cobalt-blue vanity counter, she carefully bathed the lip in cold water. Dominic flinched once, and her eyes clouded in distress. She made a low sound deep in her throat. Her reaction seemed to fascinate him, and for the remainder of the cleaning procedure, he studied her face with curious, narrowed eyes. When she'd finished, he slipped off the counter and, taking the washcloth from her, threw it carelessly into the sink.

  “I'm obliged,” he drawled casually. “It feels much better now.”

  Jane smiled in relief. “I'm glad,” she said simply. “Now will you do something for me?”

  His crooked eyebrow arched quizzically. “What?” he asked warily.

  “Put on some clothes!” she said, the annoying color rising in her cheeks again.

  He chuckled. “Oh, yes, you do have a hang-up about that. I'd forgotten. Well, as I can't leave my prisoner alone, you'll have to come with me.” He strolled lazily out of the bathroom and, going to a built-in paneled closet, he slid back the door and took out a pair of dark trousers and pulled them on easily. He shrugged into a cream sport shirt and thrust his feet into a pair of Gucci loafers.

  He turned and raised an eyebrow at Jane. “Satisfied?”

  She nodded shyly, not meeting his eyes.

  “You should be,” he said teasingly. “My ass is no longer bare, and I assure you that I haven't been interested in kinky perversions for a number of years. That was quite unfair.”

  Then, as the color once more flooded her face, his expression became serious. “Go over there and sit down,” he ordered quietly, gesturing to an easy chair covered in charcoal velvet that was situated just a few feet from the graffiti-covered wall. “I have a few questions that I want answered.”

  “Shouldn't we wait for the police?” she asked despondently, sinking obediently into the chair.

  “I think you owe me an explanation,” he said. “After all, it's my wall you ruined.”

  Dismayed, Jane's eyes swiftly flew to the paneling. “Is it really ruined?” she asked. “Isn't there anything we can do to save it? It's such a lovely wood.”

  Jake Dominic gave an exasperated sigh. “No, you've done too good a job on it. The paneling will have to be replaced.”

  “Who was the other one?” Jane asked suddenly, her golden eyes wide and inquiring.

  “I beg your pardon?” Dominic said blankly as he sat down on a corner of the bed, facing her.

  “You said that I was the second persistent woman tonight. Who was the other one?”

  “It would hardly be gallant of me to reveal names,” Dominic said dryly. “Let's just say that when I arrived on the Sea Breeze this evening, I had an unpleasant surprise in the form of a lady whose ego was a good deal keener than her intelligence.” His lips twisted cynically. “She evidently thought that seduction could fan the dead embers back to life.”

  Denise Patterson, the gorgeous blond talk-show hostess, Jane guessed shrewdly. Dominic had evidently grown bored with her and broken off their affair last night. For a moment she felt a fleeting sympathy for the woman who'd thought she could hold Jake Dominic after he had tired of her. According to the gossip columns, Dominic's affairs were becoming even more ephemeral of late, and seldom lasted more than two weeks. Looking into that cynical, restless face, she could well believe it. When a man had seen everything, done everything, and had only to reach out to receive anything he desired, it was no wonder that he had become jaded.

  That mocking devil's face was now frowning impatiently. “I'm not here to satisfy your curiosity. I believe that I was about to ask you a few very pointed questions. What's your name, redhead?”

  “Jane Smith,” she answered absently, thinking how the un-buttoned shirt stretched over the virile chest made him look more sensually naked than when he was totally nude.

  Dominic's mouth twisted. “Not very original.”

  Her eyes flew to his face. “No, it's true,” she protested. “Why would I lie? You'd find out anyway.”

  He shrugged. “Now the important question. Why me?”

  “Your new film,” Jane said simply. “It's got a pronuclear slant.”

  Dominic shook his head in disgust. “For God's sake, it's a blasted suspense thriller,” he said harshly. “It's not a message film.”

  Her eyes met his in crystalline honesty. “It was the publicity angle,” she said quietly. “We figured an incident with you would hit the front page.”

  “It might at that.” He grimaced. “And who, may I ask, are ‘we’?”

  Jane's eyes widened in alarm. “No one,” she said quickly. “This is all my idea; no one else was involved.”

  “It will probably go easier on you if you tell the police who else was responsible,” he suggested coolly.

  Jane shook her head at once. “I couldn't do that,” she insisted stubbornly. “There wasn't anyone else.”

  For some curious reason, her answer seemed to please him. He regarded her with an enigmatic smile. “You know that you're in a great deal of trouble?” he asked as he studied the quivering of her soft pink lips and the raw fear in her golden eyes.

  “I know,” she said huskily, biting her lip nervously. “But… but there wasn't anyone else.”

  The cabin door was flung open, and three large, intimidating men rushed into the cabin. Jane looked up, startled, as the trio came to a screeching halt just inside the cabin door while they bewilderedly absorbed the scene in the cabin. One uniformed man in his late fifties, with gray-streaked hair and a tough, weathered face, was obviously in command of the other two, younger men, who were dressed in jeans and crew-neck sweaters.

  Jake Dominic looked up, his brows lifting in mock surprise. “Hello, Marc. You certainly took your time about it,” he said to the older man, lazily rising to his feet.

  “I roused a few of the men—I thought we might need help,” Marc replied absently, his stunned eyes taking in the crude message on the wall and then wandering back to the fragile-looking girl in the gray armchair.

  “I think we can handle her between us,” Dominic said, his lips twitching. “Captain Marcus Benjamin, may I present Jane Smith, girl terrorist.”

  Jane threw him an annoyed glance. “I wish you wouldn't keep calling me that,” she complained.

  “Sorry, Jane,” Dominic said urbanely, his hands buttoning his cream shirt. “I'm still having problems with those semantics.”

  Benjamin's mouth tightened in irritation as he turned to face the two younger men, who were grinning irrepressibly at their captain's discomfort. “You can go back to bed, men,” he said briskly. “Tell Jim to stay on duty on deck in case we need the launch.”

  The smiles were immediately wiped from the faces of the seamen at Benjamin's whiplike tone. They sketched a respectful salute and exited hurriedly.

  Banjamin turned back to Jake Dominic and Jane, his expression grim. Jane shivered at the stern, authoritative figure the large man presented in his dark-blue uniform. “Now, what is this all about?” Benjamin asked, frowning.

  “I was trying to determine that, when you and your b
ully boys burst into the cabin,” Dominic said lazily. “It seems that Miss Smith took umbrage at my latest directorial effort and decided to make her opinions known.”

  “Very expensive umbrage,” Benjamin said gruffly. “You'll have to send to Sweden to replace that panel.” His gray eyes narrowed as Jane gasped in alarm. “What do you want done with her? I have a launch standing by to take her ashore. You'll have to go with her if you intend to press charges.”

  “That's right, I will, won't I?” Dominic observed noncommittally, his eyes on Jane's face. “Are you ready to face the music, Jane?”

  Jane moistened her lips nervously, but her chin was set determinedly as she said valiantly, “Yes, Mr. Dominic.” She slowly got to her feet. “It probably won't be as bad as all that,” she went on bravely. “I hear the police go easy on student protestors.”

  “Then you've been misinformed,” Benjamin said bluntly. “They regard a crime exactly the same, no matter who commits it. You're in big trouble, young lady.”

  Jake Dominic frowned and said impatiently, “You're frightening the child, Marc.”

  Benjamin shrugged. “There's no use in her fooling herself, Jake. There's a good chance that she'll go to jail for this night's work.”

  Jane could feel the last remaining color drain from her face at the captain's grim words. The situation was taking on all the nuances of a nightmare, and she knew a dizzying sense of panic.

  “Will you stop intimidating the girl?” Dominic said roughly, “She's just a kid.”

  “No, it's all right,” Jane said quickly, drawing a deep breath to steady the quivering in her stomach. Her hand was shaking as she nervously loosened the collar of her dark sweater. “I knew there would be some risk involved.”

  “But not this much,” Dominic guessed shrewdly.

  “I would have done it anyway,” she said simply.

  “Then you're an idealistic young fool,” he said harshly.

  Jane's eyes dropped before the scorching fire in his. “Perhaps,” she whispered huskily, “but I'd still do it.”