Captain's Paradise: A Novel

by Kay Hooper

  And since both Michael and Robin were the “red flag” and too likely to be recognized by either Sutton or his crew, they were more or less forced to remain several miles from the islands—and wait.

  “What about Sutton?” Robin asked suddenly. They were both on deck, shaded from the ten o’clock sun by an awning, and neither was handling the waiting very well.

  Michael didn’t need the question clarified. Gazing off toward the islands with restless eyes, he said, “If Sutton isn’t on the yacht physically, there isn’t much chance of building a case against him in court. We couldn’t prove ownership of the yacht, and unless the girls identify him as being in charge …”

  “Do you think they will?”

  “I don’t think Sutton’s given them the chance to see him.”

  “What about Lisa?”

  “Maybe. But I doubt it. He’s too cautious for that.”

  “Then he’ll get away with it?” Robin regretted the question the instant she saw Michael’s jaw tighten.

  “No.”

  In the steadiest voice she could manage, she said, “You’ll go after him yourself. Once Lisa and the others are safe?”

  “One way or another,” Michael said softly, “Sutton’s going to pay for what he’s done.”

  Shying away from what that might mean, Robin changed the subject. “You were very surprised Dane involved himself. Raven seemed to be as well.”

  Michael shrugged slightly. “From what I know of him—and what Raven obviously knows—it’s a bit out of character. I’ve seen him turn in performances worthy of awards, but he tends to avoid other people’s problems.”

  “He’s certainly not avoiding this problem. Maybe he’s more of a friend than you thought.”

  “Or maybe he has his own reasons.”

  Robin felt a pang. “You don’t trust easily.”

  He was silent.

  “Do you trust me?” she asked.

  After a long moment he said roughly, “Yes.”

  “Why does that disturb you so much? That you trust me? Because trust leaves you vulnerable?”

  “I don’t think we want to get into this,” Michael said.

  It had been a mistake, Robin realized, for her to have remained with him. Teddy had suggested that she might want to head back toward the Maze with them, remaining in the cabin of the larger cruiser. But Robin had refused with a slight shake of her head, and Michael had said nothing.

  She should have gone with them. The tension of waiting, added to the tension already present between her and Michael, left them both with precarious control. And they were too alone, too conscious of each other. That he had the self-awareness to warn her off from unstable emotional ground was remarkable; Robin felt herself lacking in that awareness at the moment.

  “I always did have lousy timing,” she murmured at last.

  Michael stirred slightly, but still didn’t turn and look at her. “Robin …”

  “No, it’s all right. The waiting’s getting to me, I guess. And when I’m nervous, I ask questions. Sorry.”

  Michael was trying. He was trying to ignore the building desire he felt for her, trying to fight the tangle of emotions that everything inside him mistrusted. But he had to warn her, had to make her understand. She hadn’t been in a situation like this, and couldn’t know how easy it was to allow the circumstances to dictate far too much.

  He turned his head finally, looking at her. “I’ve seen it happen before,” he said.

  “What?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

  “Situations like this.” His voice sounded curiously suspended, caught somewhere between control and chaos. “So many negative elements. Tension. Danger. Anxiety. Events that are impossible to control or influence. Time … dragging one minute and racing the next. Living on a knife-edge. And that’s a hell of a place to—”

  “To what?”

  Sitting two feet away from her, expressionless, Michael answered quietly, “To fall in love.”

  For a moment Robin couldn’t breathe. And her own voice was low and rushed. “That isn’t it.”

  “No?”

  “No.” She tried to steady her voice, tried to deny what he had seen, what he had guessed. “It’s just chemistry, and everything that’s happened makes it feel—seem—stronger than it really is. But—”

  He interrupted her, his voice still quiet. “As I said, I’ve seen it happen. Again and again, against all reason. Two people thrown together in a situation boiling with negative emotions, the worst possible foundation for love. No time to stop to think, just a compulsion.”

  “It isn’t real,” she whispered.

  “It’s always real, Robin. But it rarely lasts.”

  She realized, then, what he was telling her. “And that’s the long shot you won’t bet on.”

  He glanced off toward the distant islands for a moment, then looked back at her. “We’ll all come out of this with scars, Robin. You, me, Lisa, those other girls—even your friends and Dane. We’ll all be different, marked somewhere inside. Situations like this always mark you. It may not show on the surface, but each of us will know it’s true. And it doesn’t matter whether we win or lose. We’ll all be changed.”

  He drew a deep breath, released it slowly. “And believing that love born in turmoil will last … is inviting another kind of scar. The kind of scar that probably wouldn’t ever heal.”

  Robin, realizing, said, “It’s happened to you before.”

  “Yes,” he said flatly.

  He wasn’t ready to talk about it, she realized. If he ever would be. It was Robin’s turn to draw a steadying breath. “Part of me understands what you’re saying. But part of me doesn’t. I don’t hedge bets.”

  “Don’t you?” Michael smiled just a little, adding gently, “You hedged the biggest bet of your life.”

  “No.” She didn’t want to hear what he was about to say, but there was nowhere to run.

  “Becoming a cop, Robin. You didn’t trust yourself, didn’t trust your ability to control your fear. And you failed the exam.”

  “I tried,” she said tightly. “I did my best.”

  “Be honest with yourself. If you had failed because you really didn’t want to be a cop, you wouldn’t be involved in this situation now.”

  Robin looked away, unable to meet his steady gaze. “Neat change of subject,” she said, admitting nothing.

  “I don’t think so. How many times in the past have you become attracted to some kind of cop?”

  She felt her throat tighten, tension build. “So that’s where you’re going with this,” she said. “You’re saying this between us is even more unreal because I’m in the habit of falling for cops. Do you specialize in armchair analysis?”

  “I specialize in survival,” he said softly.

  She knew that was true; despite the present situation, Michael was indeed a survivor. He wouldn’t have lasted past his first assignment in this business otherwise. And even though she did understand why he was refusing to give in to the needs and emotions between them, it hurt too much for her to be able to ignore the pain and accept his rational doubts.

  He had been right about her past involvement with cops, but she knew with a certainty she’d never felt before that these feelings were different. Without the illusion of a “superman,” a nerveless, fearless superior being standing between them, she had no doubts about her own feelings. And though his mistrust of the longevity of fragile emotions in a dangerous situation was all too reasonable, she really thought he was wrong about their chances. It was the wrong time and the wrong place, but the feelings were real.

  Real—and he was going to ignore them.

  If she let him.

  She looked up to find him gone, and after a moment rose and went below. The door to the tiny bathroom was closed, and she heard the shower running inside. So. He thought the discussion was over, an agreement reached. He believed she was as wary of hurts that left scars as he was himself.

  And aren’t I?<
br />
  It didn’t seem to matter. A compulsion, he said? Was that what she was feeling? Her fingers moved of their own volition, unfastening buttons; she shrugged off her blouse, nudged off the shoes, and slid the cutoff jeans down her legs.

  They had hours, at least. Maybe at most. And she refused to allow a fear of scars to stop her. This time she intended to master at least one fear.

  The cramped bathroom was filled with steam, and Robin didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when she remembered just how tiny the shower stall was. But she had gone too far to let logistics determine her course from here. Taking a deep breath, she pulled aside the curtain and slipped into the stall.

  Michael turned immediately, so close that his arm brushed her breast and made both of them inhale sharply. His eyes cut through the fog of steam, sweeping down her naked body.

  “Robin, get out of here,” he said huskily.

  She shook her head slowly, and deliberately stepped closer, her hands lifting to rest on his broad chest. The dark, wet hair covering his muscled flesh was a tactile delight, and her fingers stroked it compulsively. She hadn’t realized he would be so beautiful, but he was, and the sight of him moved her more than she would have believed possible. “I can’t do that,” she said.

  He reached behind him to turn off the water, and the sudden silence was stark. “Robin—”

  She rose on tiptoe, her arms sliding up around his neck, her body molding itself to his. And she could feel his instant response, feel the taut hardening of his body. His eyes were darkening, and a muscle leapt in his jaw. As if he couldn’t help himself, his arms went around her damp body.

  “Damn you,” he whispered just before his lips covered hers.

  As before, Robin felt the instant surge of heat, the wildfire running through her veins. Her heart had swelled in her breast, thudding frantically, and there was no strength in her legs. She felt his hands slide down to cup her buttocks, pulling her even more firmly against him, and sounds she didn’t recognize tangled in the back of her throat.

  He was taking her mouth, she realized dimly, possessing it, demanding it with a force she had never encountered before meeting him. But something in her answered that force once again, rising to meet it, surging up from deep inside her. It seemed almost a battle, a clash of wills, and she didn’t know what they were fighting against.

  Or fighting for.

  When he tore his lips from hers suddenly, Robin almost cried out in disappointment. But then Michael swept the shower curtain aside and guided her out of the cramped bathroom and to the cabin. Immediately he pulled her back into his arms. His eyes glittered, and there was a bittersweet curve to his lips.

  “You don’t know what you’ve done,” he said roughly.

  Robin thought she was lost somewhere in his eyes, and the words escaped before she could stop them. “You were right. I love you, Michael.”

  “You won’t tomorrow,” he said.

  She had no way of convincing him. And so much could happen by tomorrow. “Make love to me,” she whispered.

  Michael half closed his eyes, but even then he was lifting her, placing her on the bunk, joining her there. “I knew that first night that you were dangerous,” he said, the words a rough caress as his lips explored her soft throat. “You held on to me so tightly when I pulled you from the water, and I didn’t like the way it made me feel.”

  She threaded her fingers through the heavy weight of his wet hair, hearing his voice and feeling the throbbing surge of heat all through her. “How did it make you feel?”

  “Caught.” He laughed tautly. “Caught by something I’d never be able to let go. Oh, Robin …” His lips trailed down over her breastbone, then feathered hotly over a swelling mound until he captured her nipple.

  Robin gasped, half arching against him. She had never believed such feelings were possible, and knew now that she was willing to pay any price for this. She could barely breathe, and the erotic touch of his mouth was driving her mad. Desperate to touch him, she probed the shifting muscles of his back and shoulders, her fingers learning him. She felt strength and power, and the heat of his damp flesh burned her.

  Michael wanted to lose himself in her, to allow passion to carry them both to a place where no danger lurked, where no clock ticked away the remorseless passing of minutes. She was in his bloodstream, underneath his skin, and the only remedy for the maddening ache was this. He knew he would pay a price, and even knowing the cost would be his heart held no power to stop him. It was too late for that.

  He couldn’t get enough of her. The softness of her skin drew him, the heat of her fed his own fire, and her instant, total response compelled him. The touch of her hands was velvet, was exquisite torture. His heart was pounding out of control in his chest, his breathing ragged.

  Her belly quivered as his hand slid slowly down, and she moaned when he eased her legs apart. His touch was gentle but insistent, fingers probing until he found the slick heat. Robin was hardly aware of her nails digging into his back; all her senses were caught up in the exquisite pleasure he was teaching her body to feel so wildly.

  On some level of her consciousness Robin realized that Michael was a silent lover. And on that same level of herself, she saw and understood that he was holding back, that he was, even in this jarring intimacy, guarding himself. Shut inside himself for so long, he couldn’t abandon his defenses even here, even now.

  It made her own need stronger, her own abandonment more complete. She took fire entirely, burning, offering everything she was to him and demanding everything he would give to her. And what he wouldn’t give she tried to steal.

  He took her right to the brink before he finally moved over her, settling between her thighs, and Robin thought she might not be able to survive the spiraling tension inside her. She felt the blunt pressure against her aching flesh, felt the hard length of him sinking into her body, and the slight pain brought only a quick gasp.

  Then there was nothing but rising pleasure, until she wasn’t aware of anything else, until her body was a single throbbing, aching need. Her limbs held him with all the strength she could command, even as her body held him, until the pleasure exploded in a release so devastating she felt she’d shattered inside.

  She was barely aware of Michael’s rasping groan, and when his heavy weight settled fully on her, she held him tightly.

  It wasn’t until his pulse had slowed to something near normal that Michael found the strength to raise his head and ease some of his weight onto his arms. She was looking up at him with those heartbreaking green eyes, and he bent his head to kiss her because he had to. Her response was immediate, and total. He wondered vaguely if he had any control left to him.

  “You should have told me,” he said finally when he lifted his head.

  With an odd little smile she said softly, “Then you really would have fought me.”

  He wanted to shake her. He wanted to kiss her again, make love to her again. “Dammit, Robin.”

  “Hey, I’m over twenty-one,” she told him dryly.

  He kissed the smiling mouth again, unable to resist. “Your age has nothing to do with it,” he said, managing to hold his voice steady and even. “You’ll be hurt by this, Robin. You haven’t settled with your own demons yet, and now you’re ready to take on mine?”

  Her smile faded, and the green eyes went grave. “I do have a few kicking around in the dark, don’t I?”

  “Yes, you do.”

  “Then help me fight them.”

  Michael found himself tracing her delicate features with one finger, conscious of an absurd sense of wonder that her skin could be so soft. “Honey, I can’t even fight my own.”

  “I do love you, you know,” she said.

  He felt something inside him clench in pain. “Today.”

  “And tomorrow.” Her voice was steady. “And next week. Shall I go on?”

  “You don’t know me,” he said through the tightness in his throat.

  “Michael, I know all I�
�ll ever need to know about you.”

  “And what about my life?” He cleared his throat roughly. “I’m the one with the dirty gray hat, remember? That isn’t going to change. Home is this boat more often than not. I’m not cut out for a desk and a mortgage, Robin.”

  “What makes you think I am?” Before he could answer, she added quietly, “I’m not making demands, if that’s what you think. But I love you, and I wanted you to know.”

  “All right.” He could feel the growing tension in her, and he didn’t want to talk about it any longer. Their time together could well be brief hours, and he didn’t want to waste any of it. “All right, honey. We’ll talk about it later.”

  Michael could feel the renewal of desire, and if his inner self reminded him of just how brief time could be, if his experienced inner voice nudged him with the knowledge that “later” sometimes never came, he chose to ignore it. He lowered his head and kissed her, conscious of her instant response and trying to keep the sharp edge of desperation out of his own.

  At two o’clock that afternoon the big cabin cruiser containing Raven, Kyle, and Teddy narrowly avoided running down a small launch as it left the island called the Maze and headed toward the coast.

  “Sorry!” Raven sang out, waving from her position at the wheel and hearing curses from the skipper of the launch. She aimed the cruiser to circle around the island, her nonchalant glance toward the half-hidden cove taking in a great deal.

  Kyle appeared suddenly beside her. “If Luc comes back soon,” she said, “I’m going to have to explain this bruise.”

  “What bruise?” Raven asked.

  “The one I got when your last maneuver slammed me against the table in the galley. I love you, Raven, but putting you at the wheel of a boat is more than my nerves can stand. May I take over now?”

  “Certainly.” Unoffended, Raven stepped aside. She grinned faintly. “I thought the rest of you had learned by now that I can just barely be trusted with a car, much less any other moving vehicle.”

  The erratic motion of the big boat had settled the instant Kyle took over, and she laughed softly. “Well, Teddy can’t steer, so I had to take a chance on you. A lesson well learned.”