The Dare Affair: Summer In Savannah Anth. (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 6.5

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  “It’s coffee.” She moved toward him and held out the cup. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” He took the mug and sniffed.

  “There’s no coffeepot. I had to boil the grounds in water and strain them through paper towels. It might be a little strong.”

  He took a sip and choked. Damn. If he didn’t already have hair on his chest, he would now. “A little?”

  “Maybe more than a little. How’s the shoulder?”

  “Fine.”

  “Liar. It hurts like hell.”

  “After this coffee, what’s a little pain?” Because he needed the caffeine, he took another sip. And grimaced.

  “Just like a man.” Sophia shook her head. “Quit your complaining and thank your lucky stars you’re alive, buster.”

  “I wasn’t complaining.” He frowned at her. “I was merely stating a fact. You want to fill me in on what happened?”

  “You passed out. I brought you here.”

  “And where exactly is ‘here’?”

  “A riverboat.” She walked to the window and glanced outside. “The Savannah Sweetheart.”

  A riverboat. That explained why the room was rocking. “Are we safe here?”

  “For the moment. There’s no one else onboard, and we’re the last boat docked on the wharf.”

  “Where did you get a change of clothes?”

  “I didn’t go home, if that’s what you’re asking,” she said. “I had a gym bag in the trunk of the car. Working the hours I do, I always keep my workout clothes and spare toiletries with me.”

  He sat, then swore at the pain that ricocheted through his shoulder. Sophia hurried back to the bed, took the coffee mug from his hand and set it on the bedside table.

  “So you’re fine, are you?” The mattress dipped when she sat on the edge of the bed. Frowning, she eased him back onto the pillows. “You start bleeding again and I swear I’ll shoot you myself.”

  Her words were tough, but her hands were gentle. Carefully she untied the knot at his shoulder, then loosened the bandage and looked at the wound. Her fingertips against his skin were soft and cool. Comforting. It had been a long time since a woman had touched him with such tenderness. He wanted to prolong the feeling as badly as he wanted to stop it.

  “How did you get me here?” Questions would distract him, keep his mind focused on the situation and off the feel of Sophia’s hands. “I must have sixty pounds on you.”

  “Sixty-four to be exact, according to your driver’s license.”

  He arched a brow. “Snooping, were we?”

  “I earned the right,” she said without apology. “Nicholas Raferty, 552 W. 64th, six-two, 185 pounds, blue eyes. Thirty-three. You have good vision and you’re an organ donor. Last night you came close to being one.”

  “We both did, darlin’. And it’s Sloane, not Raferty.” When she glanced up at him, he stilled her fingers with his hand. “You did good last night.”

  Eyes the color of cut jade held his, then she shrugged. “I did what I had to.”

  “Most women—and men—would have panicked. You kept a head on your shoulders.”

  “Keeping my head was my motivator,” she said. “But if I’d have stopped to think about it, I would have been paralyzed with fear.”

  “Sometimes it’s best not to think. Especially when you’re afraid.” He felt her pulse quicken under his fingers. Her skin was soft and warm, and she smelled as if she’d just stepped out of a shower. “You didn’t tell me how you got me here.”

  “I swore at you a lot.” She slipped her fingers from his and handed him the coffee mug, then turned her attention to retying the knot at his shoulder. “Getting you out of my car, on your feet, then in here was the toughest part. You also didn’t like it when I cleaned the wound with whiskey.”

  “What a waste of JD,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t remember anything after I passed out in your—” He sat suddenly, took hold of her arm. “Where’s your car? Kurt will be looking for it.”

  “It’s parked in the dock lot. But don’t worry. It’s not actually mine. Mine’s in the shop, so I’ve been driving my sister’s for the past week. There’re no license plates yet.”

  He relaxed a little, then laid back against the pillows. “Your sister actually let you drive her brand-new BMW?”

  “I had to beg a little,” Sophia said with a shrug. “But she is married to Reid Danforth, remember? She’s driving his Porsche, so it’s not as if she’s walking.”

  “And my clothes?”

  “I washed the blood out of them. The pants are all right, but there’s a hole in your shirt where the bullet grazed your shoulder.”

  “I meant,” he said evenly, “did you undress me?”

  “Oh.” She grinned at him. “Are you shy, Nick?”

  “Just unlucky. A woman gets me naked, and I can’t even remember it.”

  “You’re not naked naked.” Her gaze slid across his bare chest, then down lower to where the sheet covered his midsection. “You cost me two bucks, by the way.”

  “Yeah?” He took a sip of coffee and chewed. “How’s that?”

  “The girls at the club had a pool going on you. Boxers or briefs, white, black or other.”

  Coffee nearly spewed forth. “What!”

  She smiled. “Who’d have thought you were the black brief type?”

  He glared at her. “You girls have too much time on your hands.”

  “Are you telling me you didn’t throw in five bucks for the wager on Melanie?” She arched a brow and leaned in. “Every guy in the place wants to know if they’re real.”

  “My job requires me to interact with the staff.”

  Sophia laughed softly. “So you’re telling me you weren’t interested?”

  “Not in Melanie.”

  Her gaze met his, and the smile on her lips faded. He slid a hand behind her neck, heard her breath catch and felt her body tighten. But she didn’t move away.

  “Bad timing, Sloane,” she said, still holding his gaze.

  “Story of my life, darlin’.”

  She resisted when he tugged her to him. He held firm, waiting for her. He might push the issue, but he wouldn’t force it.

  I must be insane, she thought. What else would explain the heat racing across her skin and the pounding of her heart? She barely knew this man, and besides that, the circumstances that had brought them here, the danger, the threat, still closed around them like a noose. How could she possibly be sitting here, wondering what Nick’s mouth would feel like on hers?

  Wanting his mouth on hers.

  Maybe it was the realization of how close she’d come to death, and at some primitive level she felt a need to experience, to celebrate life. Maybe it was what she and Nick had shared in that alley—that somehow, together, they had managed to escape. Or maybe it was the knowledge that she could be an hour, a minute, away from death again.

  Whatever it was, it didn’t seem to matter at the moment. The only thing that mattered was the desire swimming in her veins, the absolute need to be physically closer to this man.

  Sanity be damned, she thought, and brought her mouth to his.

  The zap of electricity startled her, nearly had her jumping back. But the current was too strong to let go, the pressure of his hand dragging her closer, irresistible. She felt the tingle all the way down to her toes, then back up again. His lips were firm under her own, insistent but not demanding. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she shuddered at the thrill racing up her spine.

  Her mind went blank, and all she could do was feel.

  The taste of coffee, the masculine scent of his skin, the raspy stubble of his beard rubbing against her chin and cheek, everything heightened her senses. She let herself sink into the kiss, into Nick. Luxuriated in the feel of his muscled chest under her hands and the press of his firm mouth against her own.

  Surely this was a mistake, she thought, but it was too late for regrets. Together they’d stepped over an edge and it seeme
d that all she could do was hold on. He deepened the kiss and she followed, met his tongue, thrust for thrust. It was as if she’d known this man, his taste, his smell, his touch, for a lifetime.

  She’d never experienced anything like this, but then, she’d never been shot at and on the run with a man she barely knew, either. The thought sobered her just enough to let a trickle of reason back into her muddled brain. Despite the fact that she wanted to crawl under the sheets with Nick and finish what they’d started, she found the strength to pull away.

  They stared at each other for a long moment, then he said, “We’ll get out of this.”

  Will we? she wondered, not completely certain what he meant by “this.” But she nodded, anyway, then rose and stepped away from the bed. “There are a few canned goods in the galley. I’ll see what I can put together for us.”

  It surprised her how weak her knees were when she walked to the door.

  “Hey, Soph,” he called, then grinned at her when she turned. “How come no one ever just asked me?”

  “Asked you what?”

  “Briefs or boxers.”

  She grinned back. “That would be cheating. Winning the bet required a personal inspection.”

  His brow lifted, then he shook his head and sighed. “I swear I’ll never understand women.”

  “That’s the way we like it,” Sophia said lightly. “Now get some rest, Nick. I need you strong and healthy and out of that bed as soon as possible.”

  She walked out of the room, but not before she heard him say, “What a waste.”

  In spite of herself, she chuckled.

  On the deck outside, the early-morning sun was already promising another hot day. Sophia leaned against the wall and gulped in a deep breath of damp river air. She’d always been in control of her life and her emotions, had always known what she wanted and how to get it. In a moment all that had changed. It infuriated her, yet made her more determined than ever.

  She knew that she and Nick needed to work together, that they needed each other to get through this. She touched her fingers to her still-tingling lips and glanced back at the doorway.

  This thing between them, whatever it was, was a dangerous distraction that neither one of them could afford. Once she had some food and rest she’d be fine, she told herself. She’d be able to think clearly and reasonably.

  Reassured by that thought, she headed for the galley, eager to have a task to keep her mind and hands busy.

  Chapter 4

  It was dark when Nick woke. He pressed the button on his wristwatch display and the dial glowed pale green. Nine o’clock. Damn. After Sophia had brought him a can of peaches and a protein bar earlier in the day, he’d fallen back into a deep sleep. It annoyed him he’d lost precious time, but there was nothing he could do about that now.

  Slivers of moonlight poured through the cabin’s windows. When his vision adjusted to the dim light, Nick sat on the edge of the bed, relieved that the room stayed put under his feet this time, even though the boat itself rocked slightly. He felt stronger now than he had this morning, the pain in his shoulder wasn’t as intense, and his head was clearer, too. He might not have wanted the sleep, but he knew he’d needed it.

  Testing his legs, he found they were steady, then made his way to the bathroom. When he came out again, he tugged his pants on, then realized how quiet it was. The kind of quiet that made him stop and listen.

  He heard something on the deck outside, a slight shuffling sound. He moved behind the door, pressed his back to the wall and waited. The doorknob turned, then the door slowly opened and someone—a man?—crept into the room. He couldn’t see the guy’s face, but he had a heavy build, short dark hair and was wearing glasses. Nick waited a moment, until the man was completely in the room, then tackled him. They both went down on the floor in a cacophony of grunts and groans.

  “Get off me, you idiot!”

  What the hell? At the sound of Sophia shrieking at him, Nick stilled, then rolled away from her. Muttering curses under her breath, Sophia stood, then stomped to the bedside table and turned on the light. Nick blinked to clear his vision.

  It was Sophia, though it sure as hell didn’t look like her. She wore a wig, wire-framed eyeglasses, a padded, oversize gray sweatshirt and sweatpants. She snatched off the glasses, then the wig and tossed them on the bed. When she shook her head, her long, blond hair tumbled around her shoulders.

  “For god’s sake, Nick.” She set her fists on her well-padded hips and scowled down at him. “What the hell are you doing?”

  “What the hell was I doing?” He stood, forced himself not to wince at the fresh pain shooting through his shoulder. “What are you doing, sneaking in here like that?”

  “I wasn’t sneaking. I just didn’t want to wake you. Good Lord, I’m dying in this.”

  Nick’s heart jumped when she dragged the thick sweatshirt over her head. Underneath she wore the same white tank top she’d had on earlier. He watched when she pulled down the sweatpants, and even though she had clothes on underneath, he still felt a strong jolt of lust at her simple act of disrobing.

  Focus, Sloane, he warned himself. He gestured to the disguise she’d tossed on the bed. “What is all this?”

  “The Savannah Sweetheart used to be a floating theater.” She tossed the sweatsuit beside the wig and glasses. “There’s an entire room of costumes downstairs.”

  “And you’re wearing this stuff because…?”

  “I went out.”

  “You what?” His voice rose. “Are you insane?”

  “It’s insane not to eat. There’s no more food onboard.” She raked her fingers through her hair. “I walked to a small neighborhood store and bought a few groceries, plus toiletries for you and a first-aid kit. If your shoulder gets infected, you’ll have to go to the hospital.”

  She was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it. “How do you know you weren’t followed?”

  “Actually, I was followed. By a cute little black terrier who liked the way I smelled. Eau de hamburger.” She walked across the room and picked up the fast-food bag she’d dropped when he’d tackled her, then dug inside. “I was careful, Nick, and I used cash, from your wallet by the way. In spite of all the blonde jokes you’ve heard, I’m not stupid. Now sit down and eat.”

  Nick caught the wrapped hamburger she tossed at him. It did smell good, and he realized he was starving. “Kurt isn’t stupid, either, Sophia. It’s only a matter of time before he tracks us down here.”

  “There’s nothing to tie me to the Savannah Sweetheart. Not yet, anyway.” She brought the bag and sat on the bed next to Nick. “Escrow just closed yesterday.”

  “Escrow?” He rooted through the bag and found French fries, then popped a salty handful in his mouth. A beer would have been great, but he doubted she’d included that item in her shopping. “Are you telling me you actually own this boat?”

  “As of five o’clock yesterday. I was never sure the deal would go through, so I didn’t tell anyone.”

  “You must have told someone,” he said in disbelief. “Best friend, family. Boyfriend?”

  She shook her head. “No one knows. I was going to surprise my parents and sisters with the news tonight.”

  Before she glanced away, Nick saw the pain in her eyes. She should be sitting around a table celebrating with her family, not hiding out from a killer. He felt a pang of guilt, then shrugged it off. Life wasn’t perfect and it sure as hell wasn’t fair. It simply was. He’d seen countless victims of countless crimes. Some survived, some didn’t.

  Before last night, Nick would never have thought Sophia would have lasted five minutes without melting down. Few things surprised him, but she did. And so did the unexpected need he felt to comfort and take her mind off her pain.

  “So tell me.” He intentionally changed the subject. “What’s a gal like you doing with a boat like this?”

  Smiling, she lifted her gaze to his. The spark was back, Nick noted. And the determination. Good.


  “I’m going to open up a riverboat nightclub. That’s why I’ve been working at Steam. Clay’s been teaching me the business.”

  Lifting a brow, he took another bite of his burger. “So that’s what he’s doing, is it?”

  She rolled her eyes. “I can see you listen to rumors.”

  “What rumors?”

  “In spite of what everyone says, Clay and I are just friends,” she said, shaking her head. “Neither one of us has time for a relationship, and even if we did, the chemistry simply isn’t there.”

  He looked at her in amazement. “Is he gay?”

  It was the first time Nick had truly heard Sophia laugh. He liked the sound, and the way her eyes lit up.

  “You have no idea how absurd that question is.” She was still chuckling when she bit a French fry in two. “But if that’s your smooth way of giving me a compliment, thank you.”

  “You don’t need smooth, Sophia.” He watched her lick the salt from her lips, felt his blood drop below his waist. “And you sure as hell don’t need compliments. You know exactly what you do to a man.”

  Their eyes met, and the smile slowly faded from her lips. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Why don’t I show you?”

  He set his food down and reached for her. She came to him willingly, slid her hands up his bare chest and moved into the kiss. Her lips were salty but sweet at the same time. He wanted more.

  He wanted her.

  His tongue traced her lips, then slipped inside. They were familiar to each other now and there was no hesitation. She met him, came alive in his arms and pressed closer, murmuring his name. When his hands slid down her arms and bracketed the sides of her breasts, she shuddered.

  He nearly lost it.

  There’d been women before, but none that made him forget who he was. None that made him feel weak yet powerful. None that evoked such a blinding tempest of emotion. He struggled to contain the feelings, knew he didn’t dare unleash the need clawing at his insides.