Troubled Waters

by Susan May Warren

  No, before he’d simply leaned in, and taken.

  This time, it was all Sierra, and he scrambled to keep up. She pressed her hands to his bare chest, and the feel of it heated his bones, ignited sparks through his aching, sunburned body.

  She tasted of sunshine and her fragrance mixed with the sweet breeze off the ocean, and as she sank against him, her surrender only surged a deep, long-abated hunger inside him.

  The twilight had begun to blanket them, the heat of the day relaxing, the waves languid and whispering as they caressed the shore.

  Yeah, okay, um . . .

  Alone on a desert island. They had too much desperation, too much longing between them for him to be practically inhaling her, setting them both on fire. With nothing between himself and Sierra except the man he wanted to be.

  So he slowed them down a little, gentling his kiss, touching his hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her cheekbone in a caress.

  Sierra.

  She made a little noise in the back of her throat; with that, nope, there wasn’t a chance of him slowing down. So he broke away. Swallowed. Probably wore a little look of alarm on his face.

  She raised her eyebrows, touched her hand to her lips. “I’ve been wanting to do that for five years. Since the day you first asked me to watch the sunset with you.”

  His voice emerged raspy. “Yeah, well, me too.”

  She curled her hand into the well of his chest, bit her lip. Sighed. “I . . . Oh, Ian . . . there’s something I need to tell you about Esme—”

  “No,” he said suddenly, sitting up and catching her hand. “I’m done searching for Esme. I decided it a couple weeks ago.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Stop.” He closed his eyes. Pressed his forehead to hers. “It doesn’t matter anymore. It’s over. In the past. She’s built a life that doesn’t include me, and that has to be okay. It is okay.” He kissed her lips, sweetly, as if taking her words from her mouth. “I don’t want to think about Esme. And I don’t want to talk about her. Okay?”

  She swallowed. Nodded. “Okay.”

  “Okay.” He let his gaze roam her face. “You’re so beautiful. I remember that night, that first sunset. And I kept thinking . . . why did I hire this woman when all I wanted to do was ask her out?” He swallowed, stared at that beautiful mouth. “When I just wanted to kiss her.”

  “Kiss me now.”

  Yes. But as he bent his head, a gust of wind sent a wave crashing over the rocks, littering them with spray. “We need to get off the rocks and into the shelter. I want to build you a fire.” He stood up, and before she could climb to her feet, he bent down and scooped her up.

  “I can walk, Ian.”

  “Mmmhmm.” He carried her down the rock and across the beach, into the forested alcove, and set her down in the rubber raft.

  “I like it,” she said. “Very palatial.”

  “Only the best for you, baby.”

  She laughed, and the sound of it wove through him even as he climbed out and went to fetch the first of the flares. He lit it and stared out across the beach into the deepening night. Overhead the moon had risen, the stars intermittent between the clouds. But they seemed to be winking at him.

  And as he started the fire burning, ridiculously he really didn’t care if they were ever found.

  Ian had built her a palace.

  Okay, it certainly wasn’t a room at the Ritz or some five-star hotel, but frankly, given what he had to work with, it seemed downright palatial. Aside from being rescued, Sierra didn’t want to wish for more, perhaps put a chink into this fragile, beautiful, surreal night.

  A crackling fire, a roof over her head, the embrace of Ian Shaw.

  She might be dreaming it all, except for the smell of him, part sunshine, part sweat, a little ocean, and a boatload of Survivorman.

  He’d been proud of himself as he carried her to their hut; she saw it in his face, against the flicker of the fire as he’d lit the torch, then brought the kindling to flame.

  Resourceful, but then again, that was what she expected of Ian.

  He never went down without a fight.

  “How’s your leg?” He’d torn a strip of his shirt and wet it with the potable water, then heated it over the fire and wrapped it around her injury. Now he leaned up and lifted the edge of the wrap.

  The pain could make her eyes roll back into her head, but she eked out a smile. “Better.”

  “You’re such a liar.” He grinned, and she tried not to let his words burrow in and find the truth.

  Oh, yes she was. But what if he’d meant his words? “I’m done searching for Esme.” Telling him that she’d found her would only stir the pain back to the surface, right?

  He resettled the wrap on her leg, then leaned back. Put his arm around her again, pulling her close.

  If she had it her way, they just might stay here forever. Because here, on their island, in this forbidden, surreal pocket of time, the past couldn’t find them, the future couldn’t destroy them. She wasn’t his assistant. He wasn’t her boss.

  She hadn’t lied to him. He hadn’t broken her heart.

  Here, they were simply castaways.

  Survivors.

  She couldn’t believe she’d kissed him. What was she thinking? She blamed it on the scenery. And what was a girl to do when he softened his voice, said those words? “You can’t seriously not know how I felt about you. How I still feel about you.”

  At that moment, she’d lost any hold she had on herself, the emotions simply rushing over her. She’d done the craziest thing she’d ever imagined.

  But the moment she touched his lips, the moment she surrendered to the tide of feelings, she’d stopped thinking, stopped worrying, stopped planning.

  Just stopped.

  For the first time in her life, she simply . . . did.

  She’d practically thrown herself at Ian. Pressed her hands to his amazing chest like it belonged to her, and . . .

  And he’d caught her.

  For a moment, he seemed stunned. She nearly pulled away, began a litany of apology.

  Then, everything changed.

  How it changed. She went from leaning up, to him turning, catching her up, pulling her against him.

  He’d kissed like . . . well, she’d never been kissed the way Ian Shaw kissed her. Like she’d been swept up by a wave, the power, mystery, and the depth of the ocean in his touch. He smelled of the salt of the sea, and there was almost a wildness in the way he practically inhaled her.

  Giving her everything that was Ian Shaw, the focus, the take-no-prisoners persona that made her love him.

  Oh, how she loved him.

  And, heaven help her, she kissed him back just the same, sparked by the desperation of the past year.

  Ian. Finally holding her in his amazing arms.

  It was quite possible she was still on the raft at sea, delirious and hallucinating.

  Lost at sea. Yes, please.

  “Tomorrow, I think I’ll see if I can catch a fish,” Ian said quietly, his gaze on the fire as it flickered. The wind coming off the sea worried the barricade he’d made of the paddles and tent fabric. But the fire burned, unaffected.

  He was such a genius.

  “I found a fishing line and hooks in one of the side pockets.”

  She looked over at him. “If I didn’t know better, I would accuse you of having a good time.”

  He smiled then, slow and sweet. His eyes held a smidgen of danger.

  She realized his intent a moment before he leaned down and kissed her. This time, no rush, not the urgency of before, as if he were trying very, very hard not to take them to a place where the beautiful, star-strewn romantic night might lead them.

  Oh, Ian. He was such a good man.

  He was breathing a little hard as he leaned back and looked at the stars.

  “I . . . this could be a very long night,” he said. “I’ve been dreaming of kissing you for so long, it’s a little intoxicating.” He p
ressed her hand to his chest, where she felt his heartbeat pounding.

  “I’m no saint, Sierra. But for you, I’m trying to be.”

  Oh boy.

  “I’m not a saint either, Ian. And believe me, kissing you is . . . intoxicating too. But I can’t give myself away like that again.”

  She felt his breath catch.

  “What?”

  She sighed. “I was engaged before I started working for you. A hockey player who broke my heart.”

  Ian sat up then, and she was afraid to look at him. But when she did, his gaze held concern. “What happened?”

  “Back then, I was a different person than I am today. You know how I grew up, my crazy hippie mother, not having a father—well, except for Jackson, but he was Willow’s father. And when my mom kicked him out, I had no one. Jackson tried to stay connected, but my mom was bitter and wouldn’t let him see me. I was hurting . . . and that’s when I met Rhett. He played hockey for the Whitefish Wolverines, and I did the same thing to him that I did to you.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “I took over his life. I washed his hockey gear, I showed up to his games. I made him my entire world. And when he left me, I lost too much of myself. I never wanted to feel that way again.” And then I met you. But she couldn’t tell him that she’d already given away her heart to him too.

  But that was her problem. She gave her heart away to the exciting, dangerous men who couldn’t really love her back. Not when they were consumed with themselves.

  Hockey. Esme.

  “I don’t want to think about Esme. And I don’t want to talk about her.”

  Except maybe this time it could be different.

  Ian met her eyes. His mouth gave a quiet twitch. “I thought you were going to say that you made him fall in love with you too.”

  She stared at him. “What?”

  Ian leaned down, touched his forehead to hers, softened his voice until it joined with the waves on shore, the gentle rush of the wind. “Sierra Rose, I love you. I have for years.”

  And what could she say to that? Because she simply ached for it to be true.

  But this couldn’t last. This pocket of just Ian and Sierra, no past, no future—it would crash in the moment they were rescued.

  Because in the real world, there was no room in Ian Shaw’s life for anyone but Ian Shaw.

  Or, there hadn’t been . . .

  “Rhett wasn’t in love with me. I was just a convenient girlfriend until he landed a tryout at the Minnesota Blue Ox. The minute he did, he left me so fast I got windburn.”

  Ian’s expression hardened. “Maybe I need to buy his hockey team and release him back to the minors.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh as she reached up, trailed her hand around his face, curled it around his neck. “You don’t have the money.”

  He made a face. “Yeah, well, I guess I should be glad he walked away, because you came to me for a job.”

  “And then you fired me.”

  “Twice.”

  She grinned. “I should have stayed away.”

  “Yeah,” he said, moving his mouth to hers. “You should have.”

  His kiss nudged her mouth open, and he settled her back into the soft cushion of the rubber edge of the raft, his body warm and protective as he curled his arms around her.

  She’d never felt so wanted, so desired.

  Even when he pulled away. Groaned. “Yeah, long night.”

  She sat up, her own heart beating hard. “You know that’s one of the reasons I admire you, right? Because you’re everything I’m not. I have to have a strategy and a schedule. And even then, I’m afraid to jump in. You jump into something and hold on until you make it happen.”

  “I’m not going to make anything, um, happen here, Sierra.”

  She gave his shoulder a shove. “I know. But the fact that you built us this sweet shelter and promised to take care of us . . . it’s why I love you.”

  He looked over at her, his beautiful blue eyes twinkling. “You just said you loved me.”

  She smiled. “Crazy, I know.”

  The breeze kicked in and knocked over one of the paddles holding up the tent fabric that protected the fire. The fabric fell into the blaze, and in a second, Ian had hopped out and pulled it out.

  He tossed the burning fabric in the sand. Stood looking out into the ocean. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?” She listened but only heard the crash of the waves, the wind gathering in a distant roar. The wind had kicked up and she hadn’t even noticed.

  “I thought I heard someone shouting. I guess not. But I do smell rain.”

  She glanced up at the tarp. “It can handle a little—”

  A terrific, razor-sharp wind sliced through camp, whipping at the tarp. As she watched, the wind sheared the tarp away from the ropes. Sent it flapping.

  Ian lunged for it and grabbed the edge.

  At that moment, the sky opened up.

  “Are you kidding me?” Ian fought to tie down the tarp under the whipping wind as rain bulleted down.

  Sierra crawled to the edge of the raft, grabbed the tent fabric before it blew away. But the raucous wind, now unabated, scattered the fire, and the cinders spit as the rain doused it.

  The wind tore the tarp from Ian’s hand, sent it scurrying wildly into the air, and it sheared free of the other rope.

  “We’re losing it!” Ian jumped to grab it, but it had tangled in the palm tree.

  The downpour lashed Sierra to the bone even as she watched the fire die.

  “We need shelter!” Ian shouted.

  She opened her mouth to agree when she felt his hands under her arms, her legs.

  Then he was lifting her to his chest. “Hold on.”

  Then he was plowing through the forest like Tarzan, as if he knew exactly where he might be going. The rain had turned them sodden, and she started to shiver.

  He too trembled, nearly fell once, and she screamed.

  “Let me down, I can walk!”

  But when he acquiesced, her leg gave out.

  “Climb on my back.” He bent, and she looped her arms around his neck, her legs around his waist.

  He charged through the dense woods like a rhinoceros, pushing aside bamboo and palm fronds, stumbling, catching himself.

  Please, God—help us!

  The wind roared around them, trees cracked, and lightning split the sky.

  “There!” Ian said behind a roll of thunder.

  She had no idea where he might be looking until she felt him crouch to let her down. He swung an arm around her waist. “Get inside!”

  Inside—oh. The ground had turned hard and rocky, and as she crept forward into the folds of darkness, she smelled the cool breath of a cave. She touched the floor, found it damp, but as she ventured deeper, dry. Still, she wasn’t going blindly into a cave in the pitch of night.

  Except Ian curled his arm around her waist and now pulled her against his chest, wrapping both arms, both legs around her. She leaned back against his sopping, chilly skin, felt his warm breath on her neck, and wrapped her arms around his solid biceps.

  “We’re okay,” he said, his voice raspy. “We’ll be okay.”

  She turned her face into his neck, breathing in the warmth of him as they huddled in the belly of the cave.

  Talk about a long night. She closed her eyes, and with the rage of the storm outside found words boiling up inside her. “We cry to you, Lord. We say, ‘You are our refuge, our portion in the land of the living. Listen to our cry, for we are in desperate need.’”

  She felt Ian’s lips on her hair and now turned fully in his arms, curling up against him, shivering. “Set us free from our prison, that we may praise your name. Then the righteous will gather about us, because of your goodness to us.”

  She nested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes.

  “Amen,” Ian said softly.

  They sat there, listening to the wind howl, the debris of the forest sh
redding outside the cave.

  “Ian?”

  “Mmmhmm?”

  She started to tremble, and she clung to him tighter, jealous for the heat that steamed off him. “I think I’m ready to be rescued now.”

  13

  “I HATE THE SEA.” Jess pressed one hand to her stomach; the other held binoculars to her eyes as she stood on the deck of the Blue Pearl. “And staring at the horizon is not helping.”

  “Are you going to lose it?” Pete said and wrapped his arm around her waist. “You don’t look well at all. You should go lay down.”

  “Not until we find them.”

  He said nothing at her words, the same ones uttered by the Coast Guard only twenty-four hours earlier. “You’ll never find them, not with this storm heading in.”

  Yeah, well, he didn’t know PEAK Rescue.

  Jess held on to the rail. “Besides, we have lost time to make up for.”

  He couldn’t agree more. He pressed his binoculars to his eyes, heard his own voice growling up from twenty-four hours earlier. “If they’re not going to find them, then we will.”

  He’d just marched out of the Coast Guard office, feeling the change in the air, the breeze turning chilly, and it raked up a swill of desperation inside him.

  It only added to the roil of frustration he’d been fighting since the crazy moment at the hospital when Jess had changed personas right in front of his eyes.

  He knew that Jess had a past, an entirely different life according to Ty, but her old life hadn’t come crashing down over Pete until the moment she greeted her friend Vanessa like she might have been sightseeing in Europe for the past three years.

  Instead of redefining her life. Turning into a completely different person.

  Selene Jessica Taggert.

  Pete practically fled the hospital room in a crazy attempt to escape the sense that the life he’d come back to rescue might be slipping out of his grip.

  “You okay?” Ty had said, following him out of Vanessa’s room.

  Pete shot him a look that made Ty give him a grim nod. Then, “We need to go to the Coast Guard office and get an update.”

  But first, he’d needed a moment to just breathe. And do a Google search. So, he headed to the john, locked himself in a stall, and pulled up his phone.