His Only Obsession (Protectors Book 27)

by Beverly Barton

  Gwen laughed. “You’re kidding me, right? Will Pierce, I’ve seen you stark naked and I’m here to tell you that you may be slightly beaten-up and scarred, but you’re not old by a long shot. And only about half the women in the world would be interested in taking on the job of taming you.”

  “Taming me?” Will grinned. “Do you think I’m such a wild beast that I need taming?”

  “Most definitely. Taming you wouldn’t be a job for the faint-hearted. You won’t succumb without putting up a fight.”

  “Do you think I’d be worth the effort?”

  “That depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how much she loves you.” Gwen’s voice became whisper soft. “And how much she knew you loved her.”

  As naturally as taking his next breath, Will slid his right arm around Gwen’s waist and drew her close, until they were eye to eye, a hair’s breadth between them. “Dr. Arnell, I believe you’re a romantic.”

  “The only reason you’re flirting with me is because you’re the kind of man who can’t help hitting on an available female.”

  “Are you available?” His breath mingled with hers, their lips almost touching.

  “I’m not your type, remember. I’m plain and plump and frumpy.”

  He lifted his head, putting a couple of feet between them. “I didn’t say you were plump.” He ran his hand down over her hip. “A little hippy, maybe, but not plump.”

  Realizing he was kidding her, she socked him playfully on the chest. “I’ve had my heart broken twice. I’m not looking to make it three times.”

  “What makes you think I’d break your heart? Wouldn’t you have to care about me for me to have that kind of power over you?”

  “I’m not a one-night stand type of woman,” she told him truthfully. “If we had sex, I’d probably rationalize things by telling myself I was in love with you. And neither of us wants that, right?”

  She had him there. Gwen wasn’t his type. Under different circumstances, he doubted he’d give her a second glance. In the past he’d gone for flashier women, usually tall, leggy blondes, with an occasional voluptuous brunette thrown into the mix.

  Gwen wasn’t tall and leggy, wasn’t voluptuous and definitely wasn’t flashy.

  So why was he sitting here with his arm around her, thinking about how much he’d like to make love to her?

  “No, neither of us wants that,” he said firmly.

  Chapter 8

  What was the matter with her? It wasn’t as if she’d never been propositioned before or felt the stirring of sexual attraction. She hadn’t become a born-again virgin after her divorce, although there hadn’t been many men in her life, and she certainly didn’t think of herself as some rare gift for one lucky man. So, why was she fighting her desire to jump into bed with Will Pierce? She might not be his type or he hers, but there was an undeniable chemistry between them.

  She had to be honest with herself. She wanted Will. But what if they had sex and it was great? What if after sleeping with him, she realized she’d fallen hard and fast for the big lug? That’s what frightened her and what had made her put on the brakes before Will drove them both over an emotional cliff.

  “So, if we aren’t going to fool around, do you have any suggestions for whiling away the next couple of hours?” Will asked, easing his arm from around her waist and sitting back on the U-shaped lounger.

  “We could indulge in a dying art form,” she told him.

  He eyed her questioningly.

  She smiled. “I’m referring to the art of conversation. You know, idle chit-chat. Or meaningful discussion. I’ll tell you about mine, you’ll tell me about yours.”

  “That last part about yours and mine sounds promising.” Will scooted closer and draped his arm across the lounge’s backrest, directly behind Gwen.

  She looked at him pointedly. “The ‘yours and mine’ I was referring to is your life and my life. Remember trading war stories?”

  Will sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I was afraid of that.”

  “So?”

  “So?” he shot the one-word question back at her.

  “So, why don’t we spend a little time becoming better acquainted?”

  “What is it with you women? Why do you want to know what a man is thinking, what he’s feeling, about the previous women in his life? Men are simple creatures. I’m usually wondering how I can persuade the woman to have sex with me. And as for feeling things—I think I’d feel good if I had sex. And as for the women in my past—that’s where they are, in the past, even if that past is only a week or two ago.”

  “Okay, so we won’t talk about what you’re thinking or feeling,” Gwen said. “And I couldn’t care less about the women in your past, even if that past was only a few days ago.” She leaned her head back and rested it against his shoulder. Staring up the beautiful night sky, she thought how perfect this moment would be if she weren’t concerned about her father and if Will and she were truly romantically involved. “Did you have a dog when you were a kid?”

  “Huh?”

  “Did you?”

  “Yeah, I had a dog, my brothers and I. An old mix-breed hound. I hadn’t thought about Sooner in ages. He was a damn good hunting dog.”

  “Sooner?” She giggled. “You’re kidding?”

  “Nope. The old man named him.”

  “You said you went hunting as a kid, right?”

  “Honey, I was born and raised in Texas. I was toting a rifle when I was in diapers.” He chuckled. She nudged him in the ribs. “Okay, that’s a slight exaggeration, but not much. My old man loved to hunt, and he made sure my brothers and I learned how to use a rifle at a young age. By the time I was twelve, I’d made my first kill. I don’t think Dad was ever as proud of me as he was then.”

  “I don’t understand the pleasure in hunting, in stalking an animal and killing it.”

  “And I don’t understand the pleasure somebody gets out of having a flower garden.” Will leaned his head against hers.

  “How did you know I have a flower garden?” Pivoting her head slightly, she glanced up at him.

  “It was just a guess. It wasn’t a giant leap from frumpy botanist to flower garden.” He grunted when she jabbed him in the ribs again. “You don’t happen to have a cat, too, do you?”

  “No, I don’t, but I did. Periwinkle died last year, and I haven’t had the heart to get another cat to replace her.”

  “Periwinkle?” Will kissed Gwen’s temple. “Brown eyes, you amuse me. You really do. I’ve never met a woman like you.”

  And I’ve never met a man like you, all macho cocky swagger and yet kind and understanding and…

  “I’m not all that unique,” she told him.

  He ran his fingers along her shoulder in a caressing tap. “Yeah, I think maybe you are.” He squeezed her shoulder. “Hey, you do know I was kidding about the frumpy part, don’t you?”

  “Were you kidding?”

  He maneuvered her so that he could see her face. She looked right at him.

  “You deliberately downplay your physical assets, don’t you? You wear your hair in a bun or a ponytail, don’t use much if any makeup, wear loose, colorless clothes and white cotton underwear.” The corners of his mouth lifted into an amused smile. “It’s almost as if you’re saying don’t look at me, don’t notice me.”

  “Life is easier if you don’t expect too much, if you don’t long to be noticed, if you don’t need someone’s undivided attention, if you—” Realizing she had already revealed too much of her private self, she stopped talking.

  Silence. Soft, gentle silence. The hum of the ocean, the beating of two hearts, their rhythmic breathing. Will slipped his hand between them and took her hand in his, then entwined their fingers.

  “How old did you say you were you when your parents divorced?” he asked.

  “Ten.”

  “That’s a very impressionable age.”

  “Don’t try to psychoanalyze me, okay?”

/>   He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “How much did your husband remind you of your father?”

  “That’s a very personal question.”

  “Yeah, it is.”

  Gwen turned her head and closed her eyes. “Jeremy Charles was a botanist, like my father. He was brilliant, just as Daddy is. Physically they resembled each other a bit. Tall, slender, distinguished. But Jeremy wasn’t a dreamer. He had both feet firmly planted on the ground. He was steady and reliable, and I thought he was loyal and trustworthy.”

  “You married a guy you thought was an improved version of your dad,” Will said. “So what happened? Did Mr. Loyal and Trustworthy cheat on you with some hot little blonde?”

  “As a matter of fact, Ryan was a hot little blonde.”

  “Ryan?”

  “Uh-huh. You see Jeremy wasn’t quite the man I had thought he was.”

  “Damn!”

  “I was shocked at first, then as time passed I realized I should have figured it out sooner. Poor Jeremy.”

  “Poor Jeremy, my ass!”

  “No, really. We had an amicable divorce and we’ve remained friends,” Gwen said. “He and Ryan still live in Huntsville. They’re very happy together and I’m happy for them.”

  Will slid his arm down and around her waist, pulled her close to him and kissed her. A gentle, nonthreatening kiss. A sweet kiss.

  “I’ve never had my heart broken,” Will admitted in a quiet voice.

  “Never? Not even by your ex-wife?”

  “Marla and I loved each other, but it was no grand passion or anything. After a couple of years together, we realized getting married had been a mistake. Once the red-hot sex fizzled out, we didn’t have anything left.”

  “You both needed more.”

  “Yeah, I guess we did. Unless I find that something more, I don’t plan to get married again.”

  “I want something I can never have.” Gwen wasn’t sure why she was actually considering admitting her deepest desire to him. After all, why should he care what she wanted?

  “What’s that, this something you think you can never have?”

  “I want a man to love me the way my father loves his dream of that damn mythical island and the miracle plant. I want to be someone’s obsession, the only thing that matters to him, above all else.”

  “Whew, honey, you don’t want much, do you?”

  “I said it was something I know I can never have. It’s just a silly, romantic notion.”

  “I don’t know. I think you deserve to get what you want. Maybe someday—”

  Gwen pressed her index finger against Will’s lips. “I think all this fresh sea air has drugged me. I don’t usually open up and confess my heart’s desire to…to just anybody.”

  She pulled out of his arms and stood.

  “Gwen?”

  “I’m going below deck. We’ll want to start out early in the morning, so maybe we’d both better try to get some sleep.”

  She escaped as quickly as she could, all the while calling herself a fool. What had possessed her to tell Will that she longed for a man to love her to the point of obsession? He probably thought she wasn’t the type of woman that could inspire that kind of passion in any man. Let alone him.

  Jordan Elders had unlocked the door to Cheryl’s tiny stateroom and escorted her into the galley an hour ago, while the cruiser was leaving port. Now, she was sitting topside with Jordan, drinking a diet cola and finally breathing in some fresh sea air. They had kept her locked up most of yesterday and all night last night. Apparently, the others had appointed Jordan as her caretaker because he was the one who brought her food and checked on her.

  “So where are we going now?” Cheryl asked, gazing to the east, at the rising sun. “North somewhere, I guess.”

  “Into the North Atlantic, directly into the Bermuda Triangle, in search of The Professor’s island,” Jordan replied.

  “Does he really think he’ll be able to find one little island out here in the Atlantic Ocean? Doesn’t the Triangle cover thousands of miles?”

  “The Bermuda Triangle, also known as the Devil’s Triangle, covers over four hundred thousand square miles, and since 1854 more than fifty ships and aircraft have vanished inside the Triangle.”

  “Well, that’s reassuring,” she said sarcastically.

  “The Professor found the island once or, rather, it found him. He believes the island will come to him again.”

  “You sound as crazy as he does.” Cheryl finished off her canned cola, crushed the can and threw it overboard.

  “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a whiny pain in the butt?”

  “Did anyone ever tell you that kidnapping is illegal?”

  “No one kidnapped you.” He glowered at her, as if he had a right to be critical and condemning. “You sneaked aboard the Sun Dancer and hid. You were trespassing.”

  “I was trying to protect a friend, to be there when she got her heart broken. Tori was determined to follow you, and that’s the only reason I boarded this damn boat.”

  “Tori had sense enough to leave before she got caught. You stowed away, so don’t even think about accusing anyone of kidnapping you.”

  “Maybe I wasn’t kidnapped in the beginning, but I’m being held here against my will.”

  “Yap, yap, yap. How many times do I have to tell you that once we complete our expedition, you’ll be free to go home to your rich daddy.”

  “You may believe that, but I don’t. If your noble professor’s cohorts find out who my father is, do you honestly think they won’t at least consider demanding a ransom for my safe return?”

  “No one else knows who your father is. Only I know, and I have no reason to share that information with anyone else. And besides, The Professor trusts Captain McGuire, and he’s asked Molly to marry him. He has promised them a percentage of any material gain from the sale of the miracle plant we find on the island.”

  Cheryl rolled her eyes heavenward. “Are you really as naive and gullible as The Professor?”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “Take a look up there at Captain McGuire.” She surveyed the middle-aged man sitting at the helm. Overly long salt-and-pepper hair. A scruffy dark beard. Leathery tanned skin. A cigarette dangled from his lips. “Doesn’t your gut instincts tell you the guy is a sleaze?”

  “I don’t judge a man by the way he looks.”

  “What about judging a woman by the way she looks?” Cheryl nodded upward toward the flying bridge where Dr. Arnell and Molly stood looking out at the vast ocean, searching for sight of the nonexistent island. “Does Molly look like the type of woman who’d be interested in a dotty old professor?”

  “She admires and respects Dr. Arnell, just as I do,” Jordan said. “Any woman should be honored to have him interested in her.”

  “Get your head out of your ass, will you? There is no mythical island, no miracle plant. Captain McGuire is a sleaze and probably a crook. And Molly is a whore if I ever saw one. She’s probably bedded half the men in the Caribbean.”

  “What made you so cynical?” Jordan asked.

  “What made you so stupid?” she countered.

  Grunting disgustedly, Jordan grasped her upper arm. “Look, Cheryl, you got yourself in this situation and you’re doing nothing to make it easier on yourself. I get it that you want to go home. I understand you’re upset and frustrated, but you’re stuck here with us until we either find Dr. Arnell’s island or we land in Bermuda. So, grow up, will you, and stop acting like a spoiled brat!”

  She jerked away from him, so angry she could spit nails. “If I ever do get home, I’m going to have my daddy make sure you’re all put in jail for the rest of your lives!”

  She whirled around and ran down the steps to the salon below deck. Not only would she make sure everyone aboard the Sun Dancer went to jail, she had a score to settle with someone else. Once she got her hands on Tori, she was going to wring her best friend’s neck for getting her into this mess!


  Gwen sat at the helm with Will as they headed farther out to sea on a rather bright, sunny, balmy morning. They’d been up since daylight, both of them anxious to set sail. The odds of their finding the Sun Dancer in the vastness of the Bermuda Triangle were probably nil, but Gwen knew they had to try. Both the Sun Dancer and the Footloose had left Baccara and were headed into the Triangle, with Bermuda as the final destination. Will had pointed out that logic dictated a northeasterly route.

  “I think we should try to make radio contact with the Sun Dancer on and off all day today.” Will took a sip from the mug of fresh coffee Gwen had brought him.

  “What?” She whipped around and glared at him.

  “I said—”

  “I heard what you said, but I don’t understand. Do you mean we could have made radio contact with them before now and didn’t?”

  “I did try,” he admitted, a sheepish expression on his face. “More than once.”

  “And?” Gwen held her breath.

  “I didn’t get a response. My guess is that Mick McGuire has ordered radio silence. He doesn’t want anyone aboard giving away their location or—”

  “When I first woke this morning, I thought I heard you talking to someone and you said you were just getting a weather report. Are you lying to me? Did you speak to someone aboard the Sun Dancer?”

  Will placed his mug in the cup holder, clamped his hands around the wheel and stared straight ahead. “I did get a weather report.”

  “But that’s not all, is it?”

  “I tried to contact your father’s ship,” Will told her. “But I didn’t get a response. After that, I contacted several other vessels that are traveling into the Triangle today, to ask them to be on the lookout for the Sun Dancer. My boss, Sawyer McNamara, was able to get me the information about the other ships in the area.”

  “So, we do have a chance, no matter how slim, of actually finding the Sun Dancer?”

  “Yeah, we have a chance.”

  She picked up on something in his voice, but couldn’t quite put her finger on it. “If we don’t catch up with them at sea, we’ll catch up with them in Bermuda, right? That’s what you said.”