As they waited to board, she finally crossed her arms defiantly. “Okay. I can’t stand this anymore. Are you going to tell me why the side trip to Hell’s Kitchen?”
“At the right time and place.” He resisted the urge to take her hand back. “But you can’t fly into action and accusation, Ava. Let me figure this out my way.”
“Figure what out?”
This was no topic to discuss in the open air of Antigua’s piers. He stepped close to her and lowered his voice. “I can only think of one type of ‘precious cargo’ worth four hundred thousand dollars. And we may have just seen its last stop before it gets brought on board.”
8
T hey fought all the way back to the ship. Not the loud voices, hands-flying kind of arguing that Ava had mastered by age nine. Dane’s voice never rose a decibel and he was still as stone. But, to Ava, it was a fight.
“Would you please tell me what in God’s name this is about and what it has to do with the wreck?” Ava insisted as they squeezed next to each other on a water taxi crowded with cruise ship passengers.
“Shhh. Relax. Don’t jump to conclusions.” He put his arm around her shoulders. Naturally, casually. Romantically. Then he whispered discretely in her ear, “I have some theories and suspicions. But this is no place to discuss it.”
Ava tried to match his composure with a calm and steady voice. It was anything but. “What are those theories, may I ask? I take it this isn’t about spices. Is it illegal trade of some sort?”
He pulled her head a little closer into the crook of his neck. “Be quiet, Ava.”
She felt the blood running through her veins at a steady boil.
“Nobody can hear me,” she said through clenched teeth, stiffening her neck against his arm. “What is that piece of paper you have? Is that a cargo list? Have you some—”
“Stop talking, please.” His arm tightened imperceptibly.
“What did he say—crack cocaine?”
His kiss was hard, sudden, and demanding. In the instant his lips covered hers, she felt an intense, addictive bolt of pleasure ricochet through her body. She stared at him in shock, then shut her eyes to block out any sense other than the taste and heat of his kiss.
“Shut the hell up, Ava.” He moved his lips against hers, his voice rough.
She staggered back to attention, escaping his kiss just enough to see her own stunned reflection in his sunglasses. “Was that necessary?”
“It was effective.” His breathy whisper tickled her ear. “Any one of these people could be in on this. Any one of these passengers could have seen us there. Anyone could have made a delivery or pickup. Even him.”
He tilted his head toward a round, marshmallow-skinned man, telltale tourist signs blaring from his dress, right down to the sleek digital camera around his neck. Before she could fully assess the possibility, Dane took her chin and turned her face back to him. His mouth was centimeters from hers. To the casual observer, he whispered affectionate, secret words. But his voice was hard and demanding.
“This isn’t a game, Ava. And I’m not going to argue with you now.”
In the cramped space, she couldn’t retreat from the heat of his legs next to hers, his powerful arm gripping her shoulder. She sat completely still and picked a spot on the horizon to stare at. She shimmied her shoulders under his immobile arm.
“You can unhook me anytime,” she whispered without looking at him.
His arm never moved as they rode back to the ship.
Her mind whirled with questions. And repeated reenactments of his mind-blowing kiss.
It was effective.
That’s for sure.
Back on board, he walked with her to the Owner’s Suite. She was trembling a little as she concentrated on keeping her thoughts and questions in check, as ordered.
“I have some calls to make, some things to do,” he said vaguely. “I’ll arrange for dinner in your suite tonight.”
As she reached for her card key, her fingers froze in her bag. “In my suite? Am I being grounded?”
“My cabin doesn’t have a dining room, princess. I’ll come up around seven-thirty. You can bombard me with questions and poke me with your accusing fingers then. Anything. But don’t yell.”
Maybe he’d have to shut her up again, she thought as the door closed and she stepped into the air-conditioned comfort of her luxury suite.
“Oh my God,” she whispered and numbly walked to the marble bathroom and flipped the hot water faucet on the tub. “What am I getting into?”
The tap on her door came at seven and Ava cursed him for being early. Well, he could damn well wait. She had put on makeup and dried her hair, but she wouldn’t answer in her bra and underpants.
“Cabin service. I have your dinner,” the cabin steward called.
Oh. The food. “Just a minute.” She grabbed a short cotton skirt and slipped a tank top over her head before opening the door.
He took nearly ten minutes clanging plates and chafing dishes to set up the feast, complete with hors d’oeuvres, wine, salad, and a selection of several small entrées. From the sitting room, she watched him set the table for one. For one. The steward asked if he could pour the wine. She numbly agreed as he removed a single crystal goblet from the small china cabinet. Dane must not be coming. The stab of disappointment annoyed her more than anything.
Alone with her over-the-top room service, she picked up the wineglass and stepped out onto the balcony, abandoning the idea of changing into something nicer for dinner. She’d been worried about what to wear, and he’d opted out altogether. It didn’t matter, she told herself as she looked back at the lone china place setting. Lenox, no doubt. The chardonnay was cold and welcome on her throat.
She heard a light tap at the cabin door. Had the steward forgotten something?
She opened the door, the wineglass still in her hand. Dane stood holding her wax paper of lemongrass, smelling of shower and soap, a few damp strands touching the collar of his shirt. His gaze dropped from the glass and down to her bare feet.
“I didn’t think you were coming.” She stepped aside for him to enter and tilted her head toward the table. “The cabin steward set it for one.”
He handed her the package of herbs, its sweet, lemony smell momentarily tickling her nose.
“I decided to let them deliver dinner before I arrived. Gossip blows harder than the wind around here. I thought you might want to protect your privacy and reputation.”
“Is my reputation at risk if you dine in my room?”
He smiled self-consciously. “Lets just say my reputation has taken on a life that far exceeds reality.”
“I doubt that.” The words were out before she could think.
He laughed and chucked her chin before going into the dining area. He opened a cabinet and removed another wineglass, without so much as a glance at what was in there. He moved as though he were home, obviously familiar with the suite.
He studied the chardonnay label for a moment before pouring. “I’m sorry if I startled you on the water taxi today.” He gave her a teasing wink. “I had to be creative. You wouldn’t—”
“I know!” She felt herself flush at the memory. “But I have a right to know what’s going on. You wouldn’t have suspected anything if I hadn’t heard that conversation.”
“I would after what I saw today.” He held up his glass to toast, and reluctantly she did the same. “Cheers, princess. Let’s sit down and I’ll tell you what I know.”
He was so frustratingly cool and in control. Loosening her grip on the glass to avoid breaking the delicate stem, she followed him into the sitting room and chose a chair. Across from him. Away from him.
As he sat on the sofa, she saw him eye her bare feet again. “I forgot to ask you. Did you like Miranda?”
So, he was behind the pedicure. Heat dropped through her body as he studied her pink-tipped bare feet and his gaze traveled up her legs where the very short skirt climbed higher. She tugged ineffective
ly at the hem, then curled her legs up under her.
“Yes. Thank you. It was a real treat.”
He sipped the wine.
Her patience strained. “Dane. Please.”
“Okay, okay.” He put the glass on the coffee table and settled back into the sofa. “I don’t know exactly what this has to do with Paradisio’s accident, but perhaps, based on what you heard, there’s some connection. Lots of islands around here are transshipment points for drugs, mostly cocaine, on route to the U.S.”
She crossed her arms and listened to him.
“The eastern Caribbean is a hotbed of drug trafficking and it’s not too difficult to figure out why. It’s close to the U.S. ports of entry, easily navigated, with inadequately patrolled waters and not enough money for law enforcement. Add to it fragile economies and poor, hungry islanders. It adds up to a huge drug trafficking problem.” He leaned forward. “The drug cartels from South America get more and more creative every year. I think that it’s possible someone is arranging transshipments that come on board my ships and then go to St. Barts. And vice versa. St. Barts is not really drug country, but it is full of wealthy tourists who are rarely checked closely at customs and can bring it in relatively easily.”
She raised an eyebrow. “What’s Genevieve’s role?”
“I don’t know.” He stood and walked to the sliding glass doors, and stared at the darkening sky. “She handles all of the passenger and employee arrangements—visas, passports, tickets, everything. I did notice that in the past few months, we’ve had a lot of last-minute guests that she quietly rushed through the red tape. It’s not unusual for us to do that for a VIP, so I didn’t question it. But she might be helping it all along. Perhaps unknowingly.”
Ava jumped up. “Not unknowingly, Dane. I heard her! She said ‘we sent a boy to do a man’s job’ and then agreed with her friend that it could happen again.” Her voice rose but she didn’t care. “We have to alert the authorities. She has to be brought in for questioning.”
He said nothing, which only infuriated her more.
“What? What? You just want to protect her, don’t you? Are you—are you in love with her or something?” She hated herself for asking that question. For sounding like she cared.
He just shook his head. “No, Ava. I’ve known Genevieve for twenty years. I met her when she was in high school, being raised by her grandparents after her parents were killed in Chicago in the crash of their private plane. I’ve always felt sorry for her, even admired her strength. But I’m not in love with her.”
“Then who do we call? The FBI? Interpol? Who runs these islands?”
He spun around. “Wait! Will you just wait? We have nothing to go on, and an investigation would turn this company upside down. I will do—”
“That’s all you care about! Your precious company! Your money!” She flicked at his arm in anger and he grabbed her hand and held it tight.
“No, Ava. I care about the people who work for me. They’ve been through hell this past month. Every single person is in mourning right now. Plus, you can’t just go running off accusing people without any kind of proof.” He still held her hand, but his grip had softened, along with his voice. “I’ll get to the bottom of it and I’ll stop it. Anyone involved in any way will be punished. Legally. I promise. But if I don’t move cautiously, someone could get badly hurt.”
She remembered the grunting sound of pain she’d heard from Genevieve. She stepped back, sat, and pretended to be calm and serene. He definitely did not respond well to hysteria.
“So, now what?” she asked.
“I know where to start looking for clues. Tomorrow we get to Guadeloupe. This time you don’t come with me.” At her look, he shook his head vehemently. “I need to go alone. It’s dangerous. I have to look at passenger logs and check out the names of the last-minute guests that Gen has handled, and then I need to talk to her. I think I can get her to give me enough information to figure out their system. And stop it.”
“She’s in love with you.” Ava squeezed the wineglass again, oddly certain of her feminine intuition on the subject.
He ran his hand through his hair. “I know she has…feelings for me, but she’s almost like a sister. Her grandparents would probably prefer if she weren’t.” He sighed, lifting his shoulders in an apologetic shrug. “But you can’t manufacture chemistry where there isn’t any.”
Chemistry. That was one way to describe it.
“One thing I know for sure, Ava,” he said as he returned to the dining area and pulled out a place mat and plate from the china cabinet. “I’m not stopping the search for the ship. I don’t care what it costs or how long it takes. We’re going to find something.”
“Assuming there’s something there to find.”
He looked questioningly at her.
“What if, oh, I don’t know, the captain or some of the crew were in on this? What if they had so much cocaine on that ship that he had to sail it somewhere else and they’re on an island somewhere, waiting for…I don’t know…the heat to be off.”
She knew it was far-fetched and stupid. But it gave her hope that Marco was still alive.
He stepped in front of her and set his hands on her shoulders. Tenderly, he realigned the narrow straps of her top with his fingers, his gaze traveling over her neck, her face, her eyes. “Ava. If anyone on that ship were alive, I’d know about it. Please don’t do that to yourself.”
The force of his command, as gently as it was delivered, rocked her. So did his intoxicating presence just inches away from her body. His face, so close she could almost feel his breath. His hands stayed near her neck, the pressure of his fingers on her collarbone. Every cell was dancing where he touched.
“You can stop me from talking,” she said softly. “But you can’t stop me from dreaming.”
His gaze dropped to her mouth and the ship shifted gently in the water. Dear God, he’s going to kiss me again. Her legs weakened with the rolling ship.
“Come on, princess. We’ve had a long day. Aren’t you hungry?”
* * *
Dane let her talk about the food, the ingredients, the presentation. He noticed she talked more than she ate. She barely touched the shrimp and nervously poked at the sea bass. He let her chatter and purposely kept his attention on her face, never once lingering on her body, even though it looked particularly appealing in the tiny skirt and skimpy top.
“So, what exactly did you say to Christa and Delia this afternoon?” he asked when she finally took a breath.
She looked up from her plate and smiled. “It’s secret.”
A spark flickered in her eyes, igniting his gut, then traveling lower. “I don’t like secrets.”
“Too bad.” She laid down her fork. “I have a lot.”
A smile tipped the corner of his mouth. He wanted to play games with her, wanted to touch the part of her that laughed from the heart. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin and leaned back in his chair. “Oh, really? Secret recipes? Family secrets? Tell me one.”
“The recipes would bore you.” She looked down at her plate. “And the family secrets…well, I guess they’re no secret.”
He pushed his plate away, done with dinner but not with the conversation. “I don’t know why Marco left your family.”
She shot a surprised and dubious look at him. “You don’t?”
He shook his head. “No. He never told me.”
“Are you finished?” She glanced at his plate.
She clearly had no intention of exploring this subject. But he had no desire to leave yet. He wanted to stay and talk to her, to curl up on that sofa and listen to her melodic voice and watch her get animated and passionate. Especially passionate.
“Well. Have you?” The edge in her voice told him he completely missed the question.
“Uh, have I what?”
She narrowed her dark eyes accusingly. “You weren’t listening.”
“I was looking.” His gaze dropped down to the rise of
her breasts and back to her face. “Not listening.”
She stood abruptly. “Don’t do this, Dane.”
“Do what?” He couldn’t help teasing her.
“You know.” She walked toward the balcony and out the sliding doors.
He followed her, and she spun around to face him. The balcony railing kept her from backing away. She sidestepped him. “Don’t flirt with me. It’s ridiculous. I’m not in your league.”
The moonlight backlit her face, eyes, and lucious mouth. A mouth he’d tasted and wanted again. He chuckled and maneuvered back in front of her.
“You’re right, princess.” At her shocked look, he touched her dimple again. “You’re in a league of your own.”
She opened her mouth to say something and he kissed her. She tasted sweet and tangy from the food and every bit as delicious. He opened his mouth to explore her teeth and find her tongue. His hands dropped from her cheek to her neck, into her hair, and he pulled her into him.
The control she’d been clinging to evaporated and her mouth opened in hungry response. Through the thin top she wore, he could feel her heart pound. Her breasts, her provocative, tempting breasts pressed against his chest. He had no power over his hand. It moved on pure animal instinct. He had to touch her, just for a moment, just to run his thumb over her to feel her react.
She moaned, low and breathless. A fire singed him and he grew furiously hard, pressing her into the balcony railing. One hand was wrapped in her luscious hair, the other rubbed the flimsy material, savoring the raised nipple underneath.
She grabbed his hand. Pulled it hard. Down. Away. He found the strength to lift his mouth from the spot on her neck where it had ended up.
“Ava,” he groaned. He rested his hand near the hem of her short dress. Another gold mine beckoned. His fingers brushed the skin of her thigh and stroked it lightly, lifting the skirt just a little to touch the delicate flesh.
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