Caught Between a Rock and a Hunka Man (Caught Between Romance Book 3)

by Sheila Seabrook

  And maybe while he was at it, he could help her relax for real.

  His mom reached the helm first, all casual grace and big, open smile. “It’s a lovely boat, isn’t it, Paul?”

  His dad grunted, and when Mary turned her frosty gaze on the older man, he mumbled, “Fine. It’s a nice yacht. A little big for your needs. How much did it put you into debt? You have to be careful or the interest rates could kill a small business like yours.”

  The last thing he wanted to do was show his dad his balance sheet just to get the old man off his back. “I’m careful.”

  His dad stepped up beside Reed, and easily adjusted to the roll of the waves as though he’d been born on rough seas.

  He had that kind of presence, in control, demanding. The kind of personality which could make the life of a young boy pure misery.

  “This lifestyle smacks of irresponsibility. When I was your age, I had a house, a wife, and a child on the way.”

  “Oh, Paul,” Mary sighed, and she sent Reed an apologetic look. “Things are different today than they were when we got married.”

  Reed gritted his teeth. “It’s okay, Mom, you don’t need to defend me.”

  The old man regarded him from under bushy brows, his expression dour. “Not so different. Children are irresponsible. They ignore what their parents have spent their lifetime building so they can play at whatever grabs their fleeting interest.”

  Reed clamped his mouth shut, gripped the wheel harder, and silently counted to ten. The sooner he escaped his parents, the sooner he could hightail it down to the galley to join forces with Marla, and then he wouldn’t have to listen to his dad’s bellyaching.

  “Now, Paul,” his mom scolded. “We’re not here to judge Reed’s choices. We’re here to celebrate your birthday. Have a little fun. Do you remember what fun is?”

  “Of course I remember what fun is, but how can you call this fun?”

  His mom snorted. “You wouldn’t know fun if it hit you on the head. We haven’t done a single fun thing since Steve Blackhorne walked away from the business, and you decided to take the full weight of the world onto your shoulders.”

  His dad’s frown deepened. “Mary, don’t be silly.”

  She straightened to her full five foot two inches. “You’re going to pretend that you’re enjoying your vacation and apologize to your son.”

  Reed shook his head. “Mom, that’s not—”

  “Apologize?” Paul sputtered. “I’m not the one who abandoned his family.”

  And off they went.

  Reed sat back, resigned to wait till the argument was over. Or he could follow Marla below deck. With any luck, his parents wouldn’t even notice him leave.

  He tuned back in as his mom said, “You work sixteen hour days. I practically raised our son on my own. Every ounce of your energy was put into ensuring that Betty and Marla didn’t feel abandoned.”

  “What was I supposed to do? Just because that jackass Steve Blackhorne abandoned his family—”

  “Like you abandoned yours?”

  A heavy silence drifted around them, like a fog on a damp early morning. Reed adjusted their course and made another attempt to smooth things over. “This is obviously something you need to work out when you get ho—”

  Paul interrupted him, his gaze fixed on his wife. “Is that what you think, Mary? That I abandoned you for them?”

  She nodded once. Sharp.

  His dad crossed his arms over his broad chest and glared. “Those spa days and clothing sprees you love don’t come for free.”

  She tilted her chin up, her silver blonde hair shimmering in the afternoon sunlight. “I gave up my career to support yours.”

  “You sold perfume at the local department store,” Paul growled. “I’d hardly call that a career.”

  She hissed out a breath and put her fists on her hips. “Maybe it’s time our son knew what was really going on with his father.”

  “Mary.” Paul’s voice held a warning in it, the kind of warning Reed had never heard before, a nervous, hushed warning.

  “He’s not a child anymore, Paul. He deserves to know.”

  “Now, Mary,” Paul warned as he slashed a quick guilty glance toward Reed. “Don’t be dredging up the past again.”

  “You should have thought of that before you had your little affair and ruined our marriage.”

  Okay, this had definitely gone too far, Reed thought as he pushed to his feet and kept his voice quiet. “Look, maybe you should take this discussion somewhere more private. People are beginning to stare.”

  “It wasn’t an affair,” his dad stated as though he hadn’t said a word. He looked at Reed and repeated himself. “It wasn’t an affair—”

  His mom snorted.

  “—but your mother is so gosh-darn stubborn, she won’t listen to anything I say.”

  Reed saw the growing strain on his mom’s face “Mom, maybe you should go lie down for a while.”

  He could see her grinding her teeth, her blue eyes like an ice storm. “That’s it, I’m done with you, Paul Readner. Betty Blackhorne can have you.”

  And with that, she turned and stomped away.

  In the silence that followed, Reed pretended to turn dials, check the instruments, made a slight change in their direction, while he secretly studied his dad’s reaction to his mom’s outburst.

  The old man looked confused, annoyed, and tired. When he finally spoke again, the tone of his voice was conversational. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

  Reed focused on the churning clouds in the east, and the choppy waves rocking the boat as it slipped through the water. “I’m not five anymore, Dad.”

  “Just for the record, I never had an affair with Betty…or with anyone else.”

  For the first time ever, Reed felt on par with the older man. An angry woman could do that. “Well, you better figure out a way to prove it to Mom, because as long as she believes it, nothing is going to change.”

  The boat hit a particularly big wave and his old man gripped the seat beside him. “Are we heading into a storm?”

  “No.” He checked the dials again and readjusted their course. “If we’d left Serendipity Island on time, we’d have passed through here before it got this close.”

  “Is it safe? Should we be turning back?”

  He shook his head. “It’s not coming this close to land.”

  They both fell silent. Reed assumed his dad would quickly get bored and head back to his laptop. But as the minutes ticked by, and Paul remained exactly where he was, Reed finally—even thought he knew better—broke the silence. “Is there something I can help you with, Dad?”

  The tension in the older man’s shoulders seemed to ease and he asked, “How many clients do you have?”

  Reed ground his teeth together to stem his rebuttal. Because nothing he ever said—nothing he ever did—would change the stubborn old man’s mind. “Give it up, Dad.”

  “I’m trying to have a conversation here.” He grunted. “How much do you charge?”

  “Enough to keep me out of the red.”

  “For now,” the other man muttered. “What happens when you’re too old to dive?”

  “I’ll never be too old to dive,” he said, and for just a moment, he wondered if showing his dad his balance sheet would solve all the discord between them. But as the silence stretched between them, he discarded the idea. “Give it up, Dad, and say what’s on your mind.”

  “When are you going to quit fooling around and come take your rightful place in the firm?”

  “Never. I love my life the way it is.”

  “This is a waste of your time and brains.”

  “It’s my life, my time. I don’t tell you what to do.”

  “Thank goodness. I’d be out on the street and broke.” Paul shouldered him aside. “Let me take the wheel. Last time I let you drive, you crashed my car.”

  Reed reluctantly released control and moved aside. “I was seventeen and it was the other
guy’s fault.”

  “Irresponsible is irresponsible.”

  “Fine, have it your way,” he grumbled back. If the old man wanted irresponsible, that’s what he’d give him. Reed took another look at the distant clouds, satisfied that they were keeping their course far to the east, and fingered the soft material in his pocket. “I’m taking a break. If you stay on course, we’ll be fine.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To check on something below deck,” he said as he walked away.

  With one last look at the churning clouds in the distance, the beat of his heart quickened and he escaped below deck, the thong in his hand.

  He’d rather face the fascinating woman with her hidden agenda than the devil who had raised him.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Marla was embarrassed. Beyond embarrassed. Humiliated and horrified and hiding out like a turtle who refused to come out of its shell.

  She’d grabbed a bottle of champagne from the bar and headed straight for the solitude of the cabins below deck, where she’d wrestled the cork off the bottle and was now working on her second glass of bubbly.

  As she paced the small confines of the cabin, and tried to focus on spreadsheets and formulas, her thoughts returned to the partnership.

  She was leaving the road to the partnership open for Bill. For the next three days, she planned to hide below deck, stay drunk on champagne, and avoid everyone, especially their hunky boat captain.

  How he must be laughing at her now, all because Bill had to prove he was the man.

  She lifted the glass to her lips, chugged half the contents down, and let the bubbles flow through her bloodstream, relaxing her body, numbing her mind.

  Okay, so maybe her ex had a point. Maybe she was the granny panty kind of woman. So what? She had plenty of other attributes, like intelligence, loyalty, and hard working.

  Her shoulders slumped.

  Bill was right. As a woman, she was a failure. Unable to hold a man’s attention unless it involved a discussion of numbers and formulas. Unable to respond to a man’s touch. Unable to relax in bed or out.

  A wave hit the side of the boat and tipped her off balance. Before she spilled a drop of the champagne, she put the glass to her lips and drained the contents.

  The liquor went to her head, settled her stomach, and made her brave enough to face the constant rocking of the boat.

  She poured herself another glass and drained that one too, then scrunched her forehead into a frown and tried to think past the bubbles. But a knock at the door made her jump, and the remaining bit of bubbly in her glass spilled into the little indentation between her thumb and index finger.

  Being frugal, she slurped the champagne up, then ignored the door and refilled her glass.

  The knock sounded again, the voice deep and sexy enough to make her wish she wasn’t the granny panty type. “Marla, it’s Reed. Open the door.”

  She tried to stay quiet, mouse-like quiet, as she refilled the glass. A wave slapped against the boat and tumbled her to the side, nearly knocking her off her feet. She quickly sidestepped the short distance across the room, and inches from the door caught her balance.

  The doorknob wiggled again. “I can hear you. I know you’re in there.”

  She hissed out a breath. Their tussle over the suitcase had shown her how stubborn he could be. “Go away. I’m not coming out till we return to Serendipity Island.”

  “Come on, sweetheart. All I want to do is make sure you’re all right. Then you can go back and hide in your cave.”

  She hiccuped, the sound of sweetheart on his lips more charming than anything she’d ever heard. With a stiffening of her spine—and her desire to be hot just once in her life—she slapped her palm against the door to steady herself against the increased rocking of the boat. “I’m right as rain. Go steer your boat or something.”

  This time the boat rocked and shuddered.

  “Come on, sweetheart. I left my dad at the helm, and if he steers anything like he drives, no telling what he’s going to hit. I need to get back up on deck, but I’m not leaving till you open the door.”

  “Stubborn man,” she muttered, and when the boat rocked again, she unlocked the door and yanked it open.

  Another wave hit and sent her wobbling face first into Reed’s broad chest. She couldn’t help but stay there, especially when his arms came around her shoulders and clasped her to his big body. She breathed in the scent of him, male and clean and outdoorsy, and she knew before she even heard the deep timbre of his voice that the pitching of her stomach was caused by the man, not the waves.

  “No point spilling good champagne,” he whispered into her ear.

  She couldn’t halt the shiver that raced down her spine and sent goosebumps spreading over her skin. She raised her head from his chest and saw the glass now in his hand, steady despite the rocking of the boat as he shifted and rolled with each lurch under their feet.

  “How do you do that?” she whispered back. “Stand steady as a rock as though we were on dry land?”

  “Very carefully,” he replied, and the deepness of his voice drew her attention to his face.

  She saw him smile, felt the delicious hardness of his body press into hers, experienced the roll of the waves under her feet, all the better with him there to steady her.

  “That’s amazing,” she breathed, her head still light from the champagne bubbles, her mood suddenly euphoric as she realized that this man—this guy who was so much more guy than Bill—might actually be attracted to her. She felt it in the hardness of his body, in the fit of his stance, in the way he very reluctantly released her, disengaged, put some distance between them.

  For the first time, she realized that she could have a little fun on this three day cruise with a man who didn’t seem to mind that she was all logic and spreadsheets.

  Maybe her mom had been right. All she needed was a man in desperate need of a little female companionship.

  And when the three day cruise ended, he’d leave her behind.

  Unless she went with him—

  “The partnership,” she hiccuped, and immediately snapped her mouth shut, hoping he’d focus on the close proximity of the quarters and the fact that they were alone.

  He handed back the golden glass of champagne. “What about the partnership?”

  She hiccuped again and decided to distract him, uncensored and authentic. “I was never really attracted to Bill.”

  She cringed and clapped one hand over her mouth. But he simply raised one masculine eyebrow and said, “And yet you still got married. There had to be something there.”

  Marla let her arm drop to her side, gave up on the idea of being flirty and sexy, and sighed around the fuzziness in her head. “Fine, if you want the truth, once we hit the bedroom, things went pffft. He blames me for all that went wrong in our marriage. I blame me too.”

  Before he could say anything, before he could concur that his cousin had been right, that she was a total loser as a woman, she turned away, chin up, shoulders back, once again determined to lock herself away until they returned home. “There, you’ve seen I’m fine—”

  He caught her by the arm, tugged her around to face him, and she tumbled into him again, her palms splayed out against his hard chest while the rest of her body pressed into his with a satisfying bump and grind.

  His breath kissed her lips and his gaze dropped to her mouth. “Maybe it’s not your fault. Maybe Bill wasn’t the right guy.”

  And just as a wave crashed into the side of the boat, just as she rocked back into the wall behind her, just as he kept one arm locked around her waist and rocked with her, his mouth crashed down on hers, and the bubbles in her brain exploded into something more that flipped her stomach and tipped her on her axis. Before she gave it an iota of thought, she had her arms around his neck and she was kissing him like a starving woman.

  He was a good kisser. An excellent kisser. The best kisser she’d ever had.

  Marla decided tha
t if she could stay drunk on Reed and dizzy with pleasure, three days being held up by this man wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

  CHAPTER TEN

  All Reed had meant to do was give Marla the thong back, ensure she was okay, and convince her that Bill was an ass. But the instant his mouth touched hers, he lost his head.

  Along with his ability to breathe.

  Ability to think.

  Ability to stop.

  It may have started out as pity because she didn’t deserve Bill’s put-down, but the pity had been vanquished by desire, and it wasn’t until he had her mashed up against the wall, the hem of her skirt bunched in one hand, his other hand grabbing the most gorgeous butt he’d ever felt up—granny panties or not—that even a smidgen of logic entered his head.

  Because it seemed like the floor beneath his feet had tilted to an alarming angle.

  Or maybe it was simply that he’d sensed—from the moment he’d met her on the dock—that she was dangerous, that one touch of her hands and lips, one moment of sheer oblivion, and she’d tilt his world on its side.

  Which is why he’d tried so hard to maintain his distance. He’d always liked her, even when she was just a scrawny kid following him like a lost fatherless puppy, and now he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe he liked her a little too much.

  Her hands were all over him, the glass of champagne forgotten, probably spilled across the entranceway. But it seemed to have relaxed her and lifted her inhibitions, and now it seemed that they were trying to inhale each other.

  The boat rocked again and Reed forced himself to lift his head and look down into her desire drenched eyes. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed before you fall down.”

  Her deft fingers pulled his shirt open and she slipped her hands beneath the material. He groaned at the softness of her touch, the coolness of her hands, the way his body responded full tilt to her touch.

  “Only if you come with me.” She giggled, and one exquisite eyebrow lifted. “Come. Get it?”