Michelle stiffened, but he immediately sensed the change in her and moved his hands down to her waist and then low on to her hips. Then he slowly, deliberately pulled her against him so that her burning flesh touched the smooth, cool skin of his chest. Involuntarily she cried out, closing her eyes again
and putting her hands up to his shoulders, her nails digging into his hard muscles as he moved against her. 'Guy! Oh, Guy.' She gasped out his name, lost again in rapture, and lifted her head, her mouth parting for his kiss.
Opening her eyes for a brief instant, she had a fleeting glimpse of his face as he bent to place his mouth on hers and in that second she saw and recognised the calculating triumph in his grey eyes, the slightly contemptuous curl of his lips.
Immediately she jerked her head away, her eyes wide with shock as she stared into his face, seeking there something that would give the lie to her fears, but finding only corroboration in his frown of annoyance. Using all her strength, she wrenched herself free from his hold and hastily pulled the robe close round herself again, crossing her arms over her chest in a protective gesture. She felt as if she had been used, denied.
'Leave me alone!'
The frown deepened and an exasperated look came into his eyes. 'Now what?'
'You heard me. Keep away from me. I don't want you to touch me.'
Guy laughed shortly, unpleasantly. 'Oh, yes, you do.'
He reached for her again, but Michelle shrank back against the door. 'I mean it.'
The exasperation changed to anger. 'For God's sake stop playing games. You want to have sex as much as I do. No woman responds like you did unless she's turned on."
The bluntness of his tone shocked her almost as much as the crudity of his words. 'How dare you speak to me like that? Just because we're by ourselves on this boat you think you can force yourself on me…'
'Oh, no,' he interrupted brusquely. 'I've never forced myself on an unwilling female yet and I certainly don't intend to start with you. Not that I have to,' he added with a sneer, 'because even though you try to deny it, you're not only willing but eager.'
Michelle's face flamed, knowing it was true, but she still denied it. 'No, I don't want you to make love to me.'
His lip curled. 'Love, doesn't, come into it.'
"That's perfectly obvious,' Michelle agreed bitterly. 'It's nothing but sex with you. You don't even care about my feel…'
'Good Lord, is that what this is all about?' he demanded disparagingly. 'Are you the type who has to be flattered and complimented and told that a, man's in love with you before you'll go to bed with him?'
She stared at him, realising that that was exactly what she wanted, but also knowing that even if he did say it he wouldn't mean a word of it. He was so cold, so unmoved. Nothing in her experience had ever prepared her for someone like him, and she felt completely out of her depth. The physical desire he had aroused in her. had been devastating, almost overwhelming, and it would be so easy to say, yes, that's what I want, and to lose herself again in his embrace as he said the words that made it all right, that made her forget that to him she was only a convenient body in whom he could satisfy his needs. Forget for the brief time in which it was happening, maybe, but remember with regret and bitterness for the rest of her life.
'Well?' he demanded impatiently. 'I'm quite willing to provide some romance, if that's what you need.'
'That won't be necessary.' Slowly Michelle straightened up from the door. She still felt shaken and nervous but managed to say, 'All right, you win. I'll work as crew again.'
His eyes narrowed. 'Maybe the choice isn't open any more.'
For a moment panic filled her, but then she faced up to him. 'You said you wouldn't force yourself on me.'
He had taken a step towards her, but stopped abruptly at that. His jaw thrust forward as he said harshly, 'I don't like playing games, Mitch, and I especially don't like little girls who play hard to get.'
'I'm not—playing games.'
'Then why not take the easy way out?'
She didn't understand for a minute, then realised that he-considered going to bed with him would be an easier option than working. Balefully she answered, 'I am taking the easier way out.'
Guy frowned and for a moment they glared at each other. Michelle wished he would just go away and leave her alone, but he seemed unwilling to end it. 'Just what the hell is it you want from me?'
'Nothing. I didn't ask you to start kissing me or— or touching me. And you needn't think I liked it, because I didn't.'
He laughed sneeringly. 'Oh, you liked it all right, let's not be in any doubt about that. And you knew darn well what to expect from the moment you said you wanted to stay on board and not be put ashore.'
'No, I didn't. I just wanted a passage out to America, that's all.'
Guy snorted derisively. 'Don't try to con me! You came into this with your eyes open. As soon as you realised that we were alone you knew that I'd make a pass and expect you to reciprocate.'
'No. No, I didn't,' Michelle shook her head, urgently. 'I just wanted to—to get away for a while, and this seemed an ideal opportunity. I thought it would be a—sort of adventure.'
His eyebrows rose in disbelief. 'Don't give me that innocent little girl act! You've probably been to bed with a dozen men, besides the one you went to France with.'
Michelle's face paled, only now realising in what danger her fertile imagination had placed her, yet it had all seemed so innocent and easy at the time. No way had she expected Guy to take her for easy game, the sort of girl who would be willing to pay for her passage by going to bed with him. It had just never occurred to her. She had been so intent on teaching her parents a lesson that she hadn't even thought of any danger to herself. If Guy had been different, had been the type of man who undressed you with his eyes and made lewd comments, she would never even have contemplated staying on board, but he hadn't seemed like that at all and it hadn't crossed her mind that she couldn't trust him. But perhaps instinct had been right and if he knew the truth about her he'd leave her alone. After all, he had stopped when she'd said no. Michelle looked up at him uncertainly, hot wanting to tell him who she was but aware that she couldn't go on letting him believe the worst of her.
Eventually she said reluctantly, 'I—I'm afraid I lied to you about that.'
Guy's eyes narrowed. 'Go on.'
'I was at a party at a night club by the river and— well, we'd had quite a lot to drink and someone dared me to swim out to your boat. So I did.'
'Which river?'
'The Thames.'
'Good God! Do you mean to say that you were aboard all the time I was going across the Channel to France?'
'Yes, I suppose so. I don't really remember. I was feeling rather tired, you see, and I fell asleep.'
'Probably dead drunk, more likely,' Guy stated sardonically. 'You were lucky you didn't drown.3 He looked at her speculatively. 'But why didn't you tell me all this at first? Why spin me that story about having been to France for the weekend with a boyfriend?'
Michelle shrugged rather helplessly. 'It—er— seemed a good idea at the time,' she answered lamely.
He looked at her sharply. 'You wouldn't have lied about your age too, by any chance?'
Cornered, she could only nod reluctantly.
'So just how old are you?'
'Er—nineteen.'
He stared at her, appalled, then said vehemently, 'You are not fit to be let out alone. Of all the stupid, insane…'" A thought occurred to him. 'You say you were dared to swim out to the boat—did anyone see you board it?'
Michelle saw immediately what danger lay in a truthful answer to that one, so crossed her fingers and answered airily, 'Oh, yes, a whole crowd of people. But when I got on board I realised it was empty and there was no dinghy to row back in, and I didn't think I'd have enough strength to swim.'
'I see.' Guy was still looking at her suspiciously and she tried to make her face as innocent as possible, but his next question really t
hrew her. 'Do your parents know where you are?' he demanded bluntly.
A bleak look came into her eyes as she answered stiltedly, 'My parents were divorced a long time ago. They don't care about me.'
Guy looked at her searchingly. 'Is that the truth?'
'Oh, yes.' She laughed mirthlessly, 'That's definitely the truth.'
He gazed at her for a long moment, a surprised, slightly troubled look in his grey eyes at her reply. 'Are you sure that there's no one who ought to be told?'
Her chin came up. 'No, no one,' she said decisively.
Guy turned away, took a couple of paces across the cabin, then saw the box of food on the floor. He swung back to her, anger again in his face. 'You young fool! Why the hell didn't you tell me the truth from the start?'
'I didn't think you'd take me with you if I did.'
'You're damn right I wouldn't. And I would never have…' he checked abruptly.
'Tried to have sex with me,' Michelle supplied for him, feeling suddenly safe and confident again. 'Why don't you say it? You were ready enough to use the word before.'
'Maybe I was. But you don't have to worry, I won't try it again.'
Which should have been an extremely comforting assurance but which somehow left her with very mixed feelings and nothing to say.
Guy stooped and picked up the box of food. 'You might as well eat this in the galley.'
Michelle followed him out of the cabin and willingly at down at the table and began to devour a ham sandwich hungrily. It tasted delicious, better than any she'd ever eaten before. Guy made a couple of mugs of coffee, put one on the table in front of her, then sat down opposite, watching her broodingly. Her first cravings satisfied, Michelle glanced up and caught him watching her.
'Thanks for the coffee.'
He nodded absently, then said abruptly, 'Yesterday you offered to pay me for your passage. Just how did you expect to get the money when you landed in Bermuda?'
'My parents are quite well off; they make me an allowance. I would have arranged for some money to be sent through a bank,' she told him, then thought that once she made known her identity to the authorities in Bermuda she'd have no difficulty in obtaining money for clothes and things straightaway. 'Why, how did you think I was going to pay you?'
Guy shrugged, his lips curling. 'There are plenty of opportunities for the kind of girl I thought you were to earn money in whatever country she happens to end up in.'
'Oh!' She flushed. 'I suppose you've,' she sought for a word, then said, 'had sex with a lot of women like that?'
His brows drew together into a frown. "That's none of your damn business,' he told her acidly.
'It is when you nearly added me to the list,' Michelle retorted.
'Only because you left yourself wide open to it, But I was beginning to realise you weren't what you claimed anyway.'
'Oh. How?'
A sardonic look came into the grey eyes as he said bluntly, 'You're extremely inexperienced.?
'Oh,' Michelle said again, blushing furiously and looking down at her half-eaten sandwich, feeling suddenly as if she was back at school and being told off for not working hard enough.
Guy picked up his empty mug and took it across to the sink to rinse it out. Afterwards he turned and said, 'I meant what I said about not taking any passengers; I shall expect you to do your share of the work.'
Michelle looked up at him. He was so tall that his head almost brushed the ceiling of the cabin and there were hard, thick muscles in his arms and shoulders. The skin on his smooth, hairless chest still had the faded tan of last summer and he looked very fit and strong, not an ounce of superfluous flesh round his waist or on the smooth, flat plane of his stomach above the top of the jeans. Her throat felt suddenly tight and she quickly lowered her head again. Her voice' unsteady, she answered, 'I—I know. It's all right, I want to' She smiled uncertainly. 'After all, we'll be in Bermuda tomorrow, so you'll only have to survive my cooking until then.'
His eyebrows rose. 'What makes you think that?'
'Well,' she looked at him in perplexity, 'it takes five days to get from Southampton to New York, so it can't take that much longer to get to Bermuda. And we've been at sea nearly as long as that already.'
'What do you think this boat is—the Queen Elizabeth? We're making a good rate of knots, but even at the speed it will take us about another five days or so before we reach Hamilton.'
'Five days!' Michelle stared at him in horror. He had known that, when he'd denied her any food. Heavens, she could have starved to death in that time!
Something of what she was thinking must have shown in her face, because Guy laughed in genuine amusement. 'Is that how you managed to last out so long—because you thought we'd be putting into port shortly? I expected you to capitulate before this.'
His words made them both remember just how he had expected her to capitulate. Michelle looked down at her plate and concentrated on eating the last bite of her sandwich. Guy was silent until she'd finished, then said tersely, 'If you've had enough you'd better go and get some sleep. It's almost two in the morning. And I too,' he added wryly, 'could do with some rest.'
Michelle stood up at once. 'Yes, of course. I'm sorry.' She paused awkwardly. I'm sorry about lying to you, too.'
He nodded, and after a minute she turned to leave, but at the door he called her name. 'Mitch.'
'Yes?' She stopped with her hand on the door knob, half turned away from him. .
He paused for a long moment, his eyes studying her face, then said abruptly, 'Are you still a virgin?'
No man, or woman either come to that, had ever dared to ask her such a personal question. She should have been angry or indignant, at the least embarrassed, but strangely she felt none of those emotions. It was merely a direct question that required a direct answer, and she somehow knew that it was important that she tell him the truth and not try to prevaricate. So she simply said, 'Yes, I am.'
He didn't answer and she didn't expect him to. He merely nodded and she went on her way to her cabin.
CHAPTER FIVE
Light penetrating the curtains woke Michelle the next morning and she lay lazily in the bunk for a few minutes, her mind immediately full of the showdown with Guy the night before. On the whole, she thought she had come out of it quite well; she had had to tell him some of the truth, but hot enough to put paid to the game she was playing. Then she remembered that she had agreed to work and her mouth pouted into a moue of distaste, but she had been so bored alone in her cabin when she'd been 'on strike' that the prospect wasn't as displeasing as it had been before. Kneeling up, she pulled back the curtains and the cabin was instantly filled with sunlight, the heat of which she could feel through the glass of the window. She had no means of telling the time, but from the position of the sun she could guess that Guy would soon be yelling for his breakfast. She'd better get to work.
Maybe it was because she wasn't hungry any more, maybe the change in the weather, or perhaps it was just because she now felt more at ease that Michelle began to hum a catchy pop tune as-she cooked Guy's breakfast, carefully cracking the eggs so that the yolks didn't break when she put them in the frying-pan. It was very warm in the galley and she slid the windows wide open, enjoying the touch of the sun on her bare arms.
'Well, well!' Guy's mocking voice in the doorway made her turn to look at him. 'Can this be the same sulky stowaway I had on board yesterday?'
Michelle laughed. 'It's the sun. I'm a summer person, I only blossom when the sun shines.'
'In that case I'm extremely thankful that we've reached a latitude in which we should be in constant sunshine from now on,' he remarked, sitting down at the table.
'Have we really? Lovely! I'll be able to get a tan— when I've finished my work, of course,' she added hastily.
Guy said casually, 'Oh, you'll be able to get brown while you're swabbing the decks.'
Michelle looked at him indignantly, but then saw from his mocking grin that he was teasing her and she
laughed again. Anxiously she transferred the food from the frying pan to a plate, praying that she wouldn't break the eggs, then triumphantly placed the plate in front of him, looking at him expectantly.
For a moment he looked down at it contemplatively, then raised his eyes to her apprehensive face and said, 'So I've been proved wrong twice— the age of miracles hasn't passed. It looks perfect.'
'You'd better taste it first,' she warned him, but turned away to cook something for herself, well pleased. At least he was as unstinting with his praise as he had previously been with his condemnation. But she did wonder what the first miracle had been.
After breakfast Guy went up to the flying-bridge leaving Michelle to clean up the galley, bathroom and cabins, but as-the sun rose she became increasingly hot in the bunched-up jeans. She contemplated cutting the legs down to turn them into shorts, which Would help to make her legs feel cooler, but would do nothing to relieve the prickly heat round her waistline where she had, of necessity, to pull the belt tight to keep them up at all. And besides, Guy might have something to say about her cutting his jeans up. She soldiered on for a while, then, unable to stand it any longer, simply took the jeans off completely. The relief was exquisite; she felt as if she'd been in a sauna and had walked out into the cold air. When her skin had cooled down she went into her cabin and stood on tiptoe so that she could see her bottom half in the built-in mirror. Actually Guy's tee-shirt was so long on her that it fitted her like a mini-dress and completely covered her pants. Picking up the belt, she slipped it round her waist and experimentally tightened it. The soft blue material of the tee-shirt clung to the fullness of her uptilted breasts and the curves of her hips, the belt accentuating the slimness of her waist. Below it her legs stretched long and slender down to her small, delicately-boned feet. She had good legs, she knew, they were one of her best features, but for a moment she contemplated putting the jeans back on again, aware that the figure-hugging garment made her look sexy and worried what Guy's reaction would be. Not that she was afraid he'd make another pass; it wasn't that, because he'd given his word and she knew, instinctively, that she could trust him. No, it was something in herself that told her she ought not to do it. But after a moment she shrugged; it was just too hot to wear the silly old jeans, and she kicked them into a corner—then realised that there was no one to clear up after her and so picked them up, folded them and put them away in a drawer—an action that would have made her mother's maid agree with Guy that miracles could happen.
Sally Wentworth - The Sea Master Page 8