He turned the boat north and navigated to the west shore of the lake so they could pass across from his villa without drawing attention to themselves. Thankfully, there were enough boaters this July weekend that the Scappare blended right in on their way up the shoreline to Bellagio.
Another check of his arm revealed the bleeding had slowed some. He didn’t mind the blood loss if it washed away the bacteria he knew thrived in the dirty lake water, but Halli had been right about not getting it all over the boat.
What she didn’t realize was he enjoyed the added bonus of viewing her Wet & Wild T-shirt again. In fact, when she reappeared with the first aid kit, a couple of towels, and a bowl, Trent got a birds-eye view. In the combined illumination of the running lights and cockpit, he noted the blue rhinestones matched her eyes perfectly.
She set up her makeshift triage station on the small refreshment table behind his chair. Then she gave him a small cup of water and a couple of ibuprofen tablets to swallow before instructing, “Give me the shirt and lift your arm.”
He sat fully in the captain’s seat, but because they were coming up on a couple of boats, kept his concentration on the water in front of them. Or at least tried. As she placed the bowl under his elbow and began washing the blood from his arm with a wet towel, he couldn’t help a sideways glance every so often, dividing his attention equally between her face and the cleavage-revealing shirt.
One side of her hair was tucked behind her ear, the other fell forward. Shiny strands blocked his view of her shadowed face save for one glimpse of dark lashes lowered in concentration, lips pressed tightly together. Her administrations were firm, but gentle, and he experienced the same leap of his pulse as before when she’d touched his chest. Something about this woman had really grown on him.
Right now, despite his bleeding arm and the potential danger of Lapaglia and his men finding them again, he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and kiss her. He imagined the press of her chest to his without the bulky sweatshirt to interfere, and his grip on the steering wheel tightened in response to the ill-timed fantasy.
Halli, on the other hand, remained steady, her attention focused on his arm as if she were disarming an explosive. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had intrigued him so much, which made her obvious disinterest in the rest of him more than a little irritating. His macho ego, the one he relished putting on display for the tabloids, sat up and demanded he do something about her indifference.
“Sorry your new sweatshirt got blood all over it,” he offered.
“I’m not. It’s ugly.”
“Wow. Nice.”
“Well, you could’ve at least grabbed something I might want to keep after this is all over.”
He smiled at her put-out tone. “You’re right. I apologize for not taking the time to shop for you when people were chasing us with guns.”
Finished washing, now she dabbed a dry towel in a wide circle around his torn flesh, no longer quite so gentle. “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Take the jerk route again.”
It wasn’t the first time she’d made that accusation. He craned his neck to the right and adjusted the wheel to navigate a safe distance around another vessel. “You keep calling me a jerk and I’m gonna start to believe you mean it.”
“I do mean it. You’re a sarcastic, egotistical jerk.” She finished wiping his arm with more force than necessary and set the cloth on the table behind him.
Wow. Her feathers were finally good and ruffled, but damned if he could figure out why. He cast another look in her direction, and when she stubbornly ignored him, his gaze dropped to Wet & Wild. A flush of awareness heated his entire body, but there was no doubt she was chilled in the night air.
Forcing his attention back to the water, he chuckled softly. “Since it means so much to you, sweetheart, if we get out of this in one piece, I’ll buy you anything you want. And furthermore, I’m not ego—owww!”
A severe burning sensation engulfed his bicep as liquid streamed down his arm. His instinctive flinch away from the unexpected pain accidentally swerved the boat at the same time. Halli stumbled and Trent grabbed with his injured arm to keep her on her feet.
“What the hell is your problem?”
She pulled free as he straightened the boat and slowed down. After making sure the coast was clear in front of them, he tossed her a dark frown. She quickly positioned the bowl back under the liquid dripping from his elbow. Peroxide he assumed.
The smile Halli lifted toward him was laced with saccharine sweetness. “I’m sorry, did that hurt?”
“Yes, it hurt! You gotta warn a guy before you do something like that. At the very least you—”
“This is gonna hurt.”
Another blaze of pain scorched his arm. Trent cursed through his clenched teeth, braced his feet, and throttled back to an idle. From the corner of his eye, he saw Halli drop the bowl to catch the back of the captain’s seat when the sudden stop pitched her forward. She made the grab, but still lost her balance. He lifted his left arm so as not to impede the tumble that landed her sideways across his legs.
Hmm. Interesting turn of events. The angry sting of peroxide bled into the background, along with his annoyance.
Halli recognized the aggravation in Trent’s tight jaw a second before he brought the boat to a rocking halt. Next thing she knew, she lay sprawled across his hard thighs, and his right arm saved her head from slamming against the throttle. The bowl was a goner, but her fingers remained clenched around the small bottle of antiseptic as she stared up into Trent’s narrowed eyes.
She’d pissed him off. Well, who cared? She didn’t even feel bad for ambushing the big baby with the peroxide. He’d been shot, for God’s sake, a little bit of sterilization should’ve been no big deal.
His warm, masculine scent surrounded her, full of testosterone, threatening to undermine her resentment. Desperately, she clung to the emotion like a life preserver while the boat swayed, because anger was so much easier to deal with than outright fear. Anger she could control.
Below deck a few minutes ago, the fact that he could’ve been killed by that bullet had hit her hard. Hard enough that she’d had to scrub his blood from her hands and take a moment to compose herself or return with the first aid kit blubbering like an idiot.
His fixation on her chest may have heated her from the inside out, like his intense gaze was doing right now, but it’d also given her a convenient channel for her jumbled emotions. And then he’d called her sweetheart again. A word he tossed about so casually it made a mockery of the endearment. Her dad had used words like that as if they were nothing, too.
That’s it. Don’t think about how great Trent smells, or how sexy his body is, or how wonderful it would feel to have his arms hold you close...think about how he reminds you of Dad.
In essence, they were both actors. Both played whatever part they needed to get what they wanted. Having learned that lesson years ago, she didn’t trust Trent’s act one bit, especially when she wasn’t entirely sure what it was he wanted. Told herself she didn’t want to know.
Before her own traitorous body proved her a liar, Halli grasped the steering wheel to pull herself up and off of his lap. Once she was sitting, he gripped the other side of the wheel, trapping her between his arms. His softened hazel gaze locked on hers, and her breath caught in her throat. Her heart pounded, slow and deep.
This is why she’d avoided looking at him the past fifteen minutes. The man annoyed the hell out of her and yet he could mesmerize a cobra with those eyes. With his heat caressing her skin, she discovered she was much more susceptible than a snake.
It didn’t help that the whole time she’d cleaned his arm, she’d had to consciously keep her gaze from lingering on his broad, bare chest. It was one thing to feel those muscles cloaked under a cotton T-shirt and quite another to visually feast upon them unclothed. Not to mention, she couldn’t shake the memory that he was commando under the wet
jeans that molded his thighs and backside. The same muscled thighs she currently sat upon.
He leaned toward her. Intent shone clear in his eyes, and she suddenly couldn’t summon a single ounce of willpower to resist. The gentle rocking motion of the boat enhanced the seductive air cloaking the softly-lit cockpit. Once again, she was awed that he would want to kiss her.
His warm breath caressed her lips and her breath hitched in anticipation.
“It’s so sexy when a woman literally throws herself at me.”
Nothing like a dose of of his ego to ruin the sensual fantasy she’d foolishly descended into. Either he was making fun of her, or she was just another convenient, willing notch to add to his proverbial bedpost. Halli turned away from the temptation of his mouth and half-naked body and pushed against the arm holding her captive. There was hope for her yet, if not him.
“This was your fault, and you know it, you bigheaded jerk. I rest my case, and your arm’s still bleeding.”
A light puff of air stirred her hair and tickled her ear. When she hunched her shoulder, he gave another of his deep throated chuckles that made her stomach quiver. Thank God he lowered his arm. She scooted off his leg, the seat of her jeans wet from his.
Trent eased the boat forward.
Resisting the urge to peel the clinging denim away from her skin, she squatted down to gather up the supplies scattered on the floor of the boat and hoped her pants dried fast. For just a moment it had been fun to make Mr. Hollywood lose his cool. Until he turned the tables and proved she didn’t have a chance of playing in his league. Nope, it was time to take care of business and get the heck away from him.
She’d given up hope of getting to the consulate tonight, so that meant a few hours on opposite sides of the boat, hopefully a few hours sleeping. Then finally, tomorrow, he’d drop her off in Milan, and she’d never have to see him again.
That thought sent an unexpected ripple of melancholy across the relief she should’ve been swimming in.
Whoa, no, she was relieved. He’d go his way, she’d go hers. Back to Wisconsin and her reliable routine that kept her days sane and secure. So what if they were totally predictable, and—dare she admit it?—a little boring. But so what, if that’s the way she liked it? Lord knew she didn’t need a sexy movie star kidnapping her every day. Even if he was saving her life. Especially if he was saving her life. No one needed that much excitement on a daily basis.
With that in mind, she picked up a clean towel and held out the peroxide to finish the job and get to the other side of the boat. Trent groaned in protest.
Halli rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, it’s not that bad.”
“Easy for you to say.” He craned his neck around to look at the table. “You got a shot of whiskey back there on your little nurse’s station?”
“Watch the water, would you?” When he’d faced forward again, she placed the towel against his arm and lifted the bottle. “Ready?”
He gave a sharp nod and a lock of dark hair fell across his forehead. With the advance warning, his only reaction to the bubbling antiseptic on his raw flesh was the clenching of his jaw and tightening of his lips. His hands flexed on the steering wheel as he released a breath.
She dabbed gently at the wound, relieved to see the bleeding had pretty much stopped. While his skin dried in the wind, she located some butterfly bandages in the first aid kit. Three for sure, maybe four, and then she’d wrap an ace bandage around his bicep to soak up any blood that seeped out.
Increased lights along the shoreline up ahead on the left indicated the location of another small town. They’d passed two already. “Where are we going, anyway,” she asked Trent as she unwrapped the first bandage.
“Bellagio.”
A map of the lake materialized in her mind. “Why that far?”
“Because it’s that far.”
“Oh.”
“The consulate’s closed by now anyway, so we’ll get some rest and head to Milan in the morning.”
“I figured that much.” She lifted the first bandage while releasing a wistful sigh. “Bellagio’s across the lake from Villa Carlotta. I wish I could’ve seen the gardens there.”
“You’ll still get to see them.”
“I doubt it.” She touched his arm to warn, “I have to pull the edges together to put the bandages on.”
He blew out another breath and nodded. “What’s so special about the gardens at Villa Carlotta?”
She gave him a skeptical look. Like he cared about the rare and exotic plants they housed from all over the world.
“Halli, you can talk about the color of your wallpaper for all I care—just give me something to concentrate on, okay?”
She studied his pinched expression, nodded solemnly and launched into a monologue about the flowers at Villa Carlotta and her garden back home as she placed four butterfly bandages to act as adhesive stitches. His jaw clenched tight, and his knuckles whitened on the steering wheel, but he handled the process stoically now that he wasn’t jumping at every move she made.
Still talking, she reached back for a package of sterile gauze pads and turned around to the see his chin against his chest while he made fake snoring sounds. Gaze narrowed, she thumped him in the back.
He lifted his head, shrugging his injured shoulder in a defensive move that made him grimace as he laughed. “Ouch.”
“Then stop making fun of me. You asked.”
He slid her a downcast, sideways glance. A grin revealed his heart-thumping smile. “Something tells me you’d never get away with that shirt back home.”
Because her little gardening lecture confirmed what end of the boring scale she tipped. Face it, she was the furthest thing from wet and wild he’d ever meet. Halli gave an inward sigh and, while he was distracted by her breasts, reached up and gave him a slap upside the head this time.
“What? That was a compliment. You’ve totally pulled it off today.” His voice lowered. “Quite well, in fact.”
“You’re impossible.” Her face burned as if she’d spent the whole day in the sun. Men didn’t flirt with her for any good reason, much less someone like Trent Tomlin. “Watch where you’re going so I can finish this.”
She tore open the gauze package and folded one of the pads to press against his wound before winding the ace bandage around his arm. Twice she brushed his rib cage by accident; twice his skin twitched and his stomach muscles contracted. Someone was ticklish? Halli fought a smile and the urge to do it again.
“You’re not half bad at this bandaging gig,” he observed when she anchored the wrap with the little metal clips.
“I took a class at the Y.”
“They teach you how to treat gunshot victims at the Y these days?”
“Just basic first aid. Really, anyone could do it.”
“Well, I appreciate your help. Thank you.”
His serious tone brought her head up. Sincerity lit his eyes; a look like that made her crave the kiss he’d intended earlier.
She quickly turned away to pack up the first aid kit. “You’re welcome,” she murmured.
The higher pitched sound of a motor travelling at a fast speed caught her attention. Glancing between them, Trent reached for the gun. “Get down. Now.”
She dropped to the floor of the boat as he steered with his left hand, gun palmed in his right, prepared for whatever trouble accelerated their way.
You’d think she’d get used to this; that after the third or fourth time of unexpected danger the instant surge of fear wouldn’t seize her lungs and make her heart thump in her chest.
But she wasn’t used to it at all.
The approaching boat never slowed. It zoomed past, trailing laughter in its wake. Trent stood in front of the captain’s chair, sweeping his gaze around their perimeter before staring in the direction of the fading boat engine. His shoulders relaxed and he put the gun back in the drink holder. “Just a bunch of kids out for a joyride. Sorry I scared you.”
Halli wanted to col
lapse onto her back and let the overwhelming relief wash over her. In the blink of an eye, exhaustion slammed into her consciousness. She’d gotten maybe a half hour nap at Trent’s house and as the adrenaline drained from her muscles, her body emphatically told her a half hour wasn’t near enough. But instead of succumbing to the weariness, she picked herself up and focused on something else.
“You’re pretty familiar with that gun.”
Ooh, there you go, distract yourself by asking about the gun.
Trent’s gaze shifted to the sleek black weapon. “I’ve handled my share.”
“You said you didn’t do stuff like this on a regular basis.”
“At the shooting range, my dear, and on set. You’ve seen my movies.”
Every single one. More than twice. Not that she’d tell him that. She pretended to think about it before shrugging her shoulders. “Maybe I do remember a gun or two in the trailers.”
“Trailers?” He frowned over at her. “Yeah, right. You called me Shain when we first met. You don’t pick up something like that from trailers.”
“They played them a lot.” She headed for the cabin.
“Hey—where you going? We’re not done—”
“There’s a boat. Eleven o’clock.”
“Dammit.” He jerked his attention back to the water and she went below deck with a grin tugging at her lips.
Out of nowhere, a particular page in his journal flashed through her thoughts. The one that revealed his sensitivity to his father’s dissatisfaction in Trent’s work. The choppy, nearly illegible writing and raw emotions on the page testified to how much his father’s lack of respect bothered him.
She cringed, sighed, and vowed not to tease him about it in the future. Easy enough, considering their future together ended tomorrow.
Disappointment returned, sharper than before. And what if something happened to him during his search for evidence that his brother had been murdered?
Something more jagged than disappointment grabbed hold of her heart. Halli sank down on the bench seat near the half-stove and mini-sink.
Oh, no. She cared.
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