by Donna Vitek
Opening her straw bag, she brought out the raspberry-colored terry-cloth cover she had carried to wear back from the beach. She slipped it over her head, securing the white piping ties on each side of the high waist and straightening the piping-edged square neckline. Feeling infinitely more secure, she lifted her skirt hem to negotiate the steep, ladderlike steps that led back up to the deck.
Sea Dancer was gliding slowly away from the cement wharf out into midharbor toward a narrow channel. A breeze picked up, lifting wisps of sun-bleached hair back from Allendre's temples, and with a resolute squaring of her shoulders she went to join Ric in the cockpit.
One hand controlling the wheel, Ric glanced around at her, his brows lifting as his gaze traveled from the low-cut square neckline all the way down to the hem that brushed her bare feet.
"Cold?" he asked perversely, then grinned as he turned back toward the wheel. "Or just scared I wouldn't be able to resist you in your former half-dressed state?"
Grateful that he didn't see the blush that flooded her cheeks, she didn't even bother to answer. She wasn't about to admit he was right, and a lie would be utterly futile. Maybe he could read her mind. Finding such a thought far too disconcerting, she forced herself to pay strict attention as Ric navigated the boat through St. George Channel to open sea, steering clear of the buoys that marked submerged coral reefs.
About a half mile out from shore they caught a southwestern wind. Ric cut the engine, then went out on deck to hoist the white headsail, which billowed, then tautened, as it caught the wind. "Perfect," he commented as he passed Allendre on his way back to the cockpit. "Even a landlubber could handle her today."
"If you say so," she retorted doubtingly, but she returned the indulgent smile he gave her.
For an hour or so they sailed within sight of the island, glimpsing a few frolicking dolphins that arced above the waters, then disappeared gracefully beneath the surface again. Ric cut the engine, then lowered the sail again and dropped anchor. "I'm hungry," he announced, dropping down onto a deck chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "Since I've done all the work thus far, I think I'll let you serve lunch."
"Sounds fair to me," she agreed, heading forward immediately. A moment later she returned with the hamper, spread a cloth on deck, then unpacked the container of shrimp salad, a plate of succulent ham and cheese rolls, and a dish of fresh strawberries.
"And I was counting on fried chicken," she lamented teasingly. "How did you acquire such a sumptuous feast?"
"One of the advantages of owning one's own hotel," he countered with a grin as he uncorked a bottle of white wine. "One has one's own personal chef, so to speak."
Later, as they were finishing off their feast with the strawberries, Ric lounged back in his chair again. Soon they had renewed their argument about Hemingway; then the conversation veered into the realm of world events. About an hour later Ric caught Allendre stifling a yawn.
"Fanatical revolutionary leaders bore you, too, I see," Ric commented lazily and then stood. Reaching down, he took both her hands and drew her to her feet. "Maybe a swim would wake you up a bit."
"Swim?" she exclaimed softly, eyeing the dark blue water with unbridled suspicion and fear. "You mean, go for a swim way out here? Oh, I don't know. I like to swim, but… you just never know what might be down there, lurking about, just waiting for some unsuspecting victim." She shuddered. "You know, sharks, maybe, or some of those creepy moray eels."
"You obviously saw both Jaws and The Deep," he said, his thumbs caressing the back of her hands. "Listen, I wouldn't even suggest a swim if the dolphins weren't around. But they are, and sharks are afraid of them."
"Maybe so, but those eels…"
"Don't want to see you any more then you want to see them," he assured her, brushing a wayward strand of hair back from her cheek. "I've swum offshore countless times. It's as safe as scuba diving, but if you'd feel too uncomfortable…"
"You'd stay close to me?" she relented, not wanting to seem cowardly. "Wouldn't you?"
"I don't plan to let you out of my sight." He surveyed the terry-cloth shift she wore with a wry smile. "But you're not going swimming in that, I presume?"
"Of course not," she answered, too aware of the enticing warmth emanating from his body. She took a jerky backward step, easing her hands free from his. "I… I'll go below and take it off. Be right back."
A couple of minutes later Allendre reappeared, clad only in her brief swimsuit but determined not to feel self-conscious in it. Pausing for a moment by the cockpit, she watched Ric check the ropes that secured the furled sails. During her absence he had stripped down to white swim trunks. His long, muscular limbs were tanned a deep brown and lightly covered with fine dark hair, and when she realized she was staring at the broad expanse of his back, she looked away hastily.
When Ric finally turned, he caught her eye again. "Well?" he questioned mysteriously. "What do you think?"
"Think? About what?"
"About my knees, of course. Are they too knobby, or are they nice enough for me to flaunt them in some Bermuda shorts?"
Allendre laughed, her foolish tension banished suddenly by his playfulness. "Your knees are absolutely gorgeous, probably the best-looking knees I've seen since I arrived in Bermuda."
"I'm glad you like them," he retorted, but as his eyes roamed over the slender length of her body amusement vanished. It only took two long strides for him to reach her. His fingers were soon splayed across her bare waist, moving caressingly over her sensitive skin. "You look delightful," he said softly, his dark gaze impaling hers as she moistened her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue. "Allendre…"
"I thought you wanted to swim," she whispered breathlessly. Relieved when he smiled knowingly and turned to lower the extension of a stainless-steel ladder attached to the transom railing, she followed, her eyes widening as she looked down into the swirling blue depths of the water.
"You'll be safe," he said, obviously attuned to her renewed doubts.
Deciding she could trust him to know what he was doing, she backed down the ladder after him, grateful for the hard hands that encircled her waist as she slipped into the silky cold water.
"You're shivering," he murmured, treading water to keep them both afloat. "It's colder out here than at the beach. If you're too chilly…"
As he drew her closer and his muscular thigh brushed the bare softness of her own she pulled away. "I… just need to move a little, that's all." Ignoring the too-perceptive smile that curved his lips, she swam off, parallel to the boat, her limbs moving noiselessly and with graceful ease until she no longer felt chilled. Ric passed her, parting the water with his strong, effortless Australian crawl. Watching him, she stopped at the bow to cling to the anchor cable, her hair drifting out behind her on the gentle swelling movement of the water. Turning, he saw her there, smiled, then sank beneath the surface. She waited, knowing he was swimming toward her, though he had dived far enough down that she couldn't actually see him.
Long moments passed as she expected to feel his hand encircle her ankle. But when nothing happened and he didn't reappear, fear dragged at her stomach.
"Miss me?" Ric murmured wickedly into her ear from just behind her.
Taking a sharp breath, Allendre spun around, irritation mingling with an overwhelming feeling of relief. "You… you devil!" she protested weakly. "That was a horrid thing to do. I thought something had happened to you."
After brushing a swath of dark wet hair back from his forehead, Ric placed his hand above hers on the anchor cable. His mischievous smile made her breath catch in her throat. "I'm perfectly safe and sound," he said with a sparkle in his eye. Reaching behind her, he trailed his fingers through the silk-soft hair that streamed out on the water. "Sorry I scared you, but surely you didn't really think I'd be attacked by a moray eel or some other equally 'creepy' creature, did you?"
"My imagination hadn't taken me quite that far yet." As she looked up at him her heart began to
thud rapidly again, though not for the same reason it had a moment ago. Now he was too close. She could easily see the tiny flecks of gold in his blue eyes and the pulse that beat strongly in his temples. Suddenly, she longed to feel his arms around her; but, knowing the potential danger of such longings, she decided it would be wise to put some distance between them. "Race you to the end of the boat and back," she challenged, and, slipping past him, she began an energetic freestyle before he could react.
Despite her unfair lead, he easily won. As they clung to the anchor cable again two minutes later and she laughed breathlessly up at him he suddenly lowered his head to brush an oddly tender kiss across her wet cheek.
Other than bestowing that gentle caress, he didn't touch her again as they alternately swam or floated lazily on their backs on the surface of the water. Finally, sensing that her arms and legs were beginning to tire, Ric suggested they climb back aboard and rest.
Preceding him, Allendre stood on the gleaming deck watching as he ascended the ladder and then retracted the lower extension. After securing it, he turned to walk toward her. Somehow, she was caught off guard by the latent danger conveyed by the lithe movement of his muscular legs and the sudden narrowing of his dark eyes. She backed away instinctively, her limbs aching with an abrupt weakness, but even the startled widening of her green eyes didn't deter him. He reached for her hand, dropped down onto the wide deck chaise beside her, and pulled her down on top of him.
"Ric!" was all she managed to whisper before his fingers moved around her fragile neck to hold her still and his mouth captured hers. A hard, hair-roughened arm encircled her waist. The coarser texture of his skin on the bare softness of her lower back sent a wave of sensual awareness shafting through her, and before she could prevent herself, her mouth was opening eagerly to the seeking demand of his. Her soft curves yielded to his hardening body. As his fingers began to stroke from her nape downward along her spine she trembled against him, moaning softly as his tongue kindled fires on her parted lips. He rolled over, one long leg pinning both hers beneath it as he lifted his head slightly, his eyes ablaze with passion.
"I want you!" he groaned, taking her mouth again for a devastating moment before trailing hot kisses over her collarbone, then down to the shadowed hollow between her breasts. As his warm breath tantalized her skin she wrapped her slender arms around his neck, but as his thigh parted hers and she felt the evidence of his desire she took a sharp breath. A delightful, irresistible fear of him coursed through her.
"Allendre," he muttered hoarsely, nibbling the tender lobe of her ear, his breath eliciting a violent trembling of her body. Wave after wave of desire pulsated with aching keenness deep inside her, and her smooth legs tangled with his. Hardly aware she was inviting total possession, she let her hands seek the broadness of his back, her fingers kneading the taut muscles, and she was powerless to resist when he undid the back catch of her bikini top. Rough fingertips grazed slowly over the rising slope of her creamy breasts, exploring gently and tracing tantalizing circles. Before she could prevent herself, her hand covered his, pressing his palm down over her tingling skin. He sighed gently, and with renewed passion his mouth took fierce possession of hers.
It was enough for her to be caressed the way he was caressing her, to be kissed with such intimate thoroughness. All the thrilling sensations he was arousing in her were totally new experiences, but she soon realized that what she was prepared to give wasn't enough for him.
Fear feathered along her spine as his hand spread open possessively on her flat abdomen. "No. Ric, please," she breathed, catching his broad wrist in trembling fingers. Near panic swept over her when he resisted, as if he could no longer be prevented from assuaging his need for her.
Then, an instant later, he relented, his soft groan muffled in her damp hair as his hand moved back up to grip her waist. "I can't take much more of this," he muttered hoarsely, his breathing ragged as he rolled over to lie on his back beside her, his eyes closed. "I want you, Allendre, and I know you want me."
Shivering without the warm cover of his body, she scrambled to her feet, her legs weak and trembling. "Oh, Ric, I'm sorry. It's… just too soon," she whispered imploringly. "And you don't…" Don't what? her brain clamored. Don't love me? Was that what she had been about to say? As his dark eyes flickered open to meet her own she knew she had narrowly missed saying something very naive and stupid, and she rushed away, appalled at herself for even beginning to wish for something that could never be. He didn't love her; of course he didn't. Nor would he. To him, she was merely a holiday diversion.
In the dimmer light below, she leaned weakly against the galley counter, trying to gather her wits about her again. She really had to regain control of her emotions before they led her into a potentially devastating situation.
Chewing her lower lip, she went aft to the tiny bathroom and, still in her swimsuit, indulged in a long, cool shower to wash away the salt water in her hair and on her skin. After drying her hair quickly, she smoothed on sunscreen from a bottle she found on a shelf, but her mind wasn't on her task. Instead, she was trying to think of some way to explain to Ric that she wasn't the sexually experienced young woman he imagined her to be.
As it turned out, explanations were unnecessary. When Allendre went warily back on deck a few minutes later, Ric was still stretched out on the chaise. He appeared to be asleep, and she wasn't certain whether she was relieved or disappointed. For a long while she stood beside him, able to survey him closely for the first time without feeling self-conscious. A lock of vibrant dark hair fell against his forehead, and she had to clasp her hands together behind her back to keep from reaching down to brush it back. His lean face, relaxed and free of tension, looked much younger to her now. The thick fringe of his lashes lay against his brown skin, and as she slowly surveyed the muscular chest and thighs and calves she took a long, shuddering breath. No man ever had made her so aware of his masculinity and her own femininity. She felt herself irresistibly drawn into a swirling pool of emotions and longings she didn't understand and deeply feared she couldn't control. He was dangerous. That was the only certainty in her life at the moment. Before she could give in to temptation and reach down to touch his hand, she walked away, sinking down onto the remaining deck chaise with a shuddering sigh as she closed her eyes.
Some time later she awoke to the creaking of the mast, and as she opened her eyes she saw the white mainsail stretched taut above her. The day was no longer bright with sunshine. A vague grayness seemed to permeate the sky, and the ocean reflected a steel-blue color. Rousing herself, she stood. Ric was in the cockpit; behind the boat, thick, mushrooming black clouds were being carried along by the prevailing southwestern winds. She shivered, though the air was humid and hot, and when she heard a distant rumble of thunder, she beat a hasty path to the cockpit.
"I was about to wake you," Ric said without turning toward her. "I thought at first we could make it to St. George's Harbor before the storm hit, but now I'm not so sure."
"Is there anything I can do?"
He nodded. "I could use a cup of coffee, if you wouldn't mind making it. Black for me."
By the time Allendre returned from the galley a few minutes later, the water was beginning to churn, white-caps tossing up spray that stung her face as she gingerly negotiated the slightly rolling deck. Once inside the shelter of the cockpit, she automatically obeyed when Ric motioned for her to place the two steaming mugs of coffee in a holder that would prevent them from spilling.
"We're not going to make it back before it hits," he announced calmly, securing the wheel. "I'll lower the sails and we'll switch to the engine. Maybe with a little luck we can make it to Somers Bay, where we can sit out the worst of it."
They didn't make it in time. The reef-enclosed bay was still some distance away when the rain started coming down in gray sheets on them and high winds began whipping the ocean into white, frothy swells that Sea Dancer lurched over and skidded down into the troughs between. Grippin
g a cedarwood mullion between two of the cockpit's glass panes, Allendre managed to stay on her feet in the same spot as she stared at the torrential rain driving against the windows. A strange exhilaration tempered her apprehension somewhat, but after several minutes of buffeting winds and tossing waves, she began to feel rather queasy. When Ric glanced back and asked if she was okay, she nodded. "I think so. But surely this isn't just a regular thunderstorm—it's causing too much commotion, isn't it?"
"All storms at sea tend to raise cain for a while, but this one does seem a little severe."
She raised her eyes heavenward. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."
"Just hold on a little longer," he said over his shoulder. "It'll be much calmer in the bay."
Three minutes later, Allendre squeezed her eyes shut as Ric piloted Sea Dancer through a none-too-wide entrance in a craggy-walled reef. When she opened them again, the boat was no longer tossing. At the far end of the natural cul-de-sac the water only swelled gently, and being rocked was definitely an improvement over being tossed about. The windward wall of reef provided a safe haven, and when Ric cut the engine there and dropped anchor, Allendre's stomach settled back into its proper place.
Braving the rain that peppered down on them, they raced down the companionway to the cabin, and Ric closed the door tightly behind them. The abruptly intimate atmosphere disconcerted Allendre considerably. She backed up, bumped into the dinette table, then curled her hands tightly around its edges as Ric unceremoniously stripped off the rain-drenched white shirt he'd put back on after their swim. Self-conscious again in her bikini, she rushed away to the bathroom and returned with a short terry robe she'd seen hanging on the door. "Could I… Would you mind if I wear this?" she asked hopefully.
Sitting on a dinette chair to remove his deck shoes, he glanced up, then grinned. "Be my guest. But that's my robe, so don't expect it to fit."
It didn't. There seemed to be quite a lot of robe and very little of Allendre in it, but since she only wanted something to conceal most of herself until her bikini dried, Ric's robe sufficed.
