by Anne Marsh
“Someone died,” she said, “and made you God. That’s it, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t matter.” He came around behind her and whispered in her ear, “There are two ways to do this, Dani. You can go on in there by yourself and shower, or I can take you in there.”
She turned to face him and unfortunately, he didn’t miss the hands that came to rest on her hips. “This isn’t another mission, sailor.”
“You phoned it in,” he pointed out ruthlessly. “You asked for help—and it sure looked to me like you needed it.”
Daeg grabbed a flashlight and limped into the bathroom, his thigh and knee hurting. He’d pushed too hard, too fast, and the muscles were flat-out on strike. Still, he wouldn’t have traded places with Cal or Tag for the world.
“There are towels on the rack by the tub,” she called as he closed the door between them, and he figured that was the concession he was getting tonight.
He liked teasing Dani, liked how that pretty blush lit up her face. She was easy to rile, too. Of course, he was also used to issuing orders, and she’d made it plenty clear that she wasn’t his to command. He wondered briefly if that ultimatum of hers extended to bed and then forced the thoughts away. Back on track, soldier.
He turned the water on in the shower and carefully positioned the flashlight. Dani’s bathroom was as romantic as the rest of the cabin, with a wide, claw-foot tub, a basket of rose petals, scented creams and lotions. Oh, and lots and lots of candles. All white. He yanked the shower curtain closed and waited for the water to hit steamy. A bikini lay neatly folded on the counter, and it was too easy to remember how she looked in it when he picked up the scraps of soft cloth.
She was too sexy for his peace of mind.
And it didn’t help that the whole cabin was some kind of elaborate fantasy scene for night after night of hot sex. Good thing she couldn’t see the grin stealing over his face.
As much as he’d enjoyed that kiss, he’d enjoy making love to Dani even more.
He shifted uncomfortably, parts of him eager to do just that. Towels. He was on a mission to find towels.
His first pass turned up a pair of tiny decorative hand towels on silver rings by the sink. Those were about as useful as a bandage to patch a pothole. But everywhere he looked, all he could see was Dani. There was the scent—pretty and feminine. A neat row of pastel nail polish bottles sat on a shelf, along with a perfume bottle and a pair of earrings. Her bathrobe hung on the back of the door, the belt tied and the sleeves tucked into the pockets. He winced as he remembered dropping his filthy boots on her floor. Spotting a low cabinet, he popped the door open, needing the distraction.
Bingo. He’d found the mother lode of all towels, neatly folded and stacked in two columns.
“Incoming!” He’d opened the bathroom door and tossed a few towels into the bedroom. Dani’s muffled squeak said he’d hit his target. “Ten minutes and I’m back out there,” he warned and closed the door. He tried hard not to think about Dani possibly stripping off in the other room. That she could be naked and a mere ten feet away. Or maybe she’d wait until she had a door and a lock between them to undress.
Making a return trip to the linen closet, Daeg noticed something fall from the shelf as he claimed a couple of towels for himself. Hello. The something was one of those yellow-lined notepads filled with neat handwriting. He listened for Dani, but all he could hear were rustling sounds coming from the bedroom.
He eyed the notebook.
He shouldn’t.
But he was going to.
Why would his by-the-book actuary be hiding a notepad in her bathroom linen cupboard?
He acknowledged a twinge of guilt, yet hunkered down on the bathroom floor, back to the tub. It did feel good to get off his leg, although he wouldn’t be admitting that to Dani. Instead, he riffled through the pages. Many were blank, but others were covered with long, orderly lists. Supplies to purchase, cabin-cleaning rotations and some kick-ass plans for a new flower bed. None of that merited concealment, so he kept reading with an ear cocked toward the bedroom.
There. The last list before the remainder of blank pages started. Three neat numbered columns with headings in all caps. He knew Dani’s handiwork when he saw it. When he scanned the columns, he hit the jackpot. His Dani had an imagination—and one incredibly sensual bucket list.
She’d listed her sexual fantasies.
And prioritized them.
Row by row, she’d laid out one naughty scenario after another—complete with her predictions about how he’d react. And then how she’d react. One column for him and one for her.
Yeah. He’d be happy to help her out.
He wanted to hold her, to touch her and love her. He’d admitted that much to himself. From the moment he’d spied her standing on the beach in that little white crocheted bikini, he’d been a goner. So he’d taken the room at Sweet Moon without complaining—too much—and he’d done his best to get closer. A lot closer. She’d been running, though, and he didn’t blame her. They didn’t have the best history, but he suspected someone else had hurt her a lot more and recently, too.
And yet she’d made this list. He read it a second time.
Dani tapped on the door. “It’s safe to come out now.”
There was wry humor in her voice.
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, his own voice sounding hoarse. “Be there in two.”
He ran his finger down the list. Sex before a roaring fire, sex on the beach, a list of cross-references to some Cosmo articles and a kind of kissing that—and he knew a grin was splitting his face, because this was so perfect—involved his tongue on a very personal part of Dani’s anatomy. He’d happily do all that and more. This was the roadmap to Dani’s own seduction with a path straight to her likes and dislikes.
A man couldn’t ask for more than that.
10
ITEM ONE ON Dani’s list: a hot fire and a heart-to-heart in front of the flames, followed by slow, sweet seduction. Talking wasn’t Daeg’s strong suit, but he knew how to build a fire, and more than anything, he wanted to give her the kind of intense pleasure she’d never had before.
Once he had the shower hot enough for Dani, he stepped into the bedroom and spotted her still fully dressed. That was a disappointment, given the image he had of her towel-wrapped body, but he’d work with what he had.
“Shower’s ready.” He gestured toward the bathroom with his flashlight in hand.
“Then you’d better get back on in there.” Sugar wouldn’t melt in her voice. He mentally scanned her list and, sure enough, there wasn’t an item on there that involved being told what to do, which was too bad for her. The inside intel was good, but they would still have to handle this the right way.
“You’re wet.” What had she been doing while he was in there? Because she sure hadn’t changed. Or dried her hair any. The strands clung to her face and shoulders.
“So are you.”
“Right.” He winked at her and grabbed the bottom of his T-shirt. With one swift pull, he took the shirt off and dropped it on the floor. “Which is why I’m changing. You’re welcome to use the bathroom if you’d prefer not to watch.”
She marched into the bathroom and slammed the door behind her.
“Water’s hot,” he yelled after her.
Apparently, he hadn’t lost his touch.
Grinning, he stripped off his wet gear and pulled on sweats and a dry shirt. Starting a fire in the big fireplace took five minutes, leaving him with far too much time to think about the fact that only a door separated him from a naked Dani. His imagination obligingly drew a superb, sexy picture of her standing among the billowing steam, water sluicing down her body. She’d be all smooth sweetness if she used the basket of bath products he’d spotted by the side of the tub. Raspberries. He loved that rich s
cent with a hint of tartness.
Redirect.
Grabbing his cell from his duffel, he tried a call, but no surprise, he had no signal. The storm would have temporarily knocked out service across the island. He reconned the cabin again and was fiddling with the radio when the bathroom door opened.
This time, she was sporting dry clothes and bare feet as she ran a towel over her hair. He eyed her cautiously. She looked more relaxed—but only slightly.
“I’ve been thinking,” she announced, her eyes widening when she spotted his fire.
“Uh-huh,” he said noncommittally.
“I want to try going back to town.”
Right. She was tenacious. Under other circumstances, that would be intriguing. And possibly a very, very good thing if she brought that determination to bed, but right now, it made him want to growl. Loudly.
“You’ve been outside, you know what the conditions are like.” He said these words carefully. Play nice, he reminded himself.
“I have Mr. Ramsey’s medicine.” She pointed to her purse. “He needs it and, at some point, the storm is going to pass over us.”
He opted for show-and-tell, striding to the front door, unlocking and opening it. That gave her a ringside seat for the rain and wind whipping around Sweet Moon’s driveway. The Jeep, parked not fifteen feet away, was almost invisible. “Exhibit A. You’ve got ten, maybe fifteen minutes of daylight left. Rain. And wind. You’re in for the night. Get used to it.”
She stepped forward and had a long-distance look. He was fairly certain she cursed.
“I drove us here. I can drive us into town.” Her objection must have sounded weak to her own ears, because she pursed her lips and glared at the rain.
He shrugged, shutting the door. “It’s safer to wait until tomorrow morning.”
And since her car was the one currently swimming in the ocean, he figured she was at his mercy as far as transportation went. He flexed his knee. Even if he would make a crappy chauffeur at the moment, he was still the person in possession of the car keys.
He’d let the facts speak for themselves, however. His Dani liked facts. “Listen to the radio.”
While he tuned the dial, she marched around the cabin picking up his wet things. He’d seen soldiers go into battle with less fury. He was tempted to start dropping the odd sock just to tease her. Concentration furrowed her face as the radio cycled through a recorded message about weather conditions, the forecast and a warning to remain wherever you were.
“Fine,” she said and he grinned.
She disappeared into the bathroom. The slap of wet cotton said she was hanging up his things. Forcefully. “Tomorrow morning?”
“More likely than tonight,” he called back. “So there’s nothing stopping you from sitting down in front of this fire.”
She entered the room and eyed the fireplace. Then her gaze went to the love seat parked in front of the flames. He sensed she was still making up her mind about him. “They teach you how to start fires in basic training?”
“Sure.” He pushed back the memories, watching with satisfaction as she moved toward the fireplace.
They’d taught him lots of things.
He’d trained hard. He trusted his mind and body—he knew precisely what he was capable of on a number of levels. His instincts were honed. He reacted when he encountered a situation, but he rarely talked about it ever.
Actually, he didn’t talk much, period. He’d never been particularly smooth with women. Obviously, he loved sex and a woman’s body. But before, it had always been only really good sex. If he were honest with himself, he didn’t know how to give anything else but pleasure to a woman, but his instincts screamed that Dani deserved more than that. Much, much more. So if he wanted this woman, he would have to figure out how to give her whatever she needed.
Plus, he had her chart.
That was his ace in the hole.
Rummaging in his duffel, he came up with a pair of thick, navy-issue socks. Now was no time for bare feet.
“Pull up a seat,” he invited her, and showed her the socks. “Get comfortable. It’s going to be a long night.”
* * *
THE ODDS OF her heading back to town now were zero.
The emergency-broadcast channel was static-filled, but the message was clear. She still had hours until the storm passed.
Dani knew a sure thing when the numbers stared her in the face. Inches of rain and hurricane-force winds said she stayed put. The question was: What were the odds she got her spec ops soldier into bed? She was a reformed woman—confident, sexy. Sure of what she wanted. She might be less certain about her sexual wish list, but she was sure about Daeg. He was certainly easy to look at. His hair was mussed, his eyes sparkling and intense. The ancient cotton T-shirt and sweats he was wearing only made him seem more rugged and attractive. She shouldn’t be staring at him.
She could stare at the fire.... Oh, right, he’d built her a fire. She wanted to curl up in front of it and never move. And if she avoided him, that would be the safer option.
“Marshmallow?” He waved the plastic bag at her and she bit back a moan of pleasure. Sugary, sticky goodness. He’d guessed her weakness with stealth-like precision.
She eyed him suspiciously and nodded toward the fireplace. “I thought you were worried about fires.”
He smiled and shrugged. “A fireplace isn’t a candle. Let’s give it a shot. Worst-case scenario, the storm dumps a load of water down the chimney and leaves us sitting in total darkness again. I’ll take that chance if you will.”
For the next two hours, while the storm winds picked up and the rain came down hard and then harder, he shared stories about his stint in the military and asked questions about her life on the mainland. The more he talked, the more Dani could feel herself warming up in every way possible. She wanted to kick being cautious to the curb, just once. And she wanted to enjoy. Daeg Ross could guarantee that before the night was over.
“So you’re part of the mission once you’re on the ground, is that right?”
His warm gaze met hers as he dropped an arm around her shoulders. “Uh-huh. Though I can fly the helicopter as well as swim.”
“Handy,” she said solemnly. “You clearly gave up a lot to come back here to Discovery.”
“I’m only here on loan.” Laughter filled his voice. “Can’t see me being a teacher for that advance diving class, but hey, I always help out when called.”
He was dependable...reliable...
The fire was dying down now, but she didn’t want to move or risk losing the magic of his strong fingers stroking her skin.
“The Black Hawk we usually fly is a big bird,” he continued, “but she has to be. She carries two hundred gallons of fuel. Tag puts her up and we can cover more than four hundred nautical miles before we have to turn around and refuel. She’s strong enough to take the hoist that was the lifeblood of our ops, too. We don’t land the chopper on a job. Hell, you don’t even have to land to refuel—just put her over the stern of a Coast Guard ship and let the boys toss us a line.”
“You love it. What you do,” she explained when he looked at her.
“Yeah.”
“You don’t worry about the danger? Never mind,” she said quickly. “That’s a stupid question.”
He was quiet for a moment. “Sometimes I worry,” he admitted, “but most of the time, I’m acting on instinct. And that’s why I train. I do my thinking and worrying before I fly, but as soon as I’m out over the water, I just do. You want to get in, get out with whoever is in the water. That’s the only thing that matters.”
Okay, so she never went on instinct. He clearly led a very different life. And yet, no matter how adventurous or heroic it sounded, she sensed she was missing something. She laid her head on his chest and tucked her arms aro
und his waist, feeling the tension in the muscles of his arms. She couldn’t fix what he wouldn’t share, but her instincts screamed to for her to hold on to him. To let him know that he didn’t have to be alone.
* * *
“YOU THINKING ABOUT your man down? The one in the Indian Ocean?” She whispered the question, turning her head to see his face. Her expression betrayed a fear that possibly he’d be lost one day. He wanted to assure her, but that was the thing about fighting for your country. Sometimes good men did go out and never came back.
“You do what you can, you do everything you can and then sometimes it turns out that’s just not enough.” He tried to shake the melancholy. Here they were, sitting in a decked-out romantic suite that she’d planned to share with someone else. Someone she’d believed was special, even if the man had clearly turned out to be the biggest jerk of them all. If Daeg had been the one with that invite, he realized, nothing would have kept him away.
She was still watching him. “It can’t all be happy endings. I’ve seen the stats.”
Of course she had.
“The thing is, Lars put me in the basket and I went up. He could have gone first.”
“You were injured.”
“Not that badly,” he said fiercely. “That should have been a routine evac and it wasn’t.”
She rested her hand on his leg and stroked gently. “I’ve seen the scar,” she said. “That was no scratch.”
“I went up, safe and sound. When the basket got to the edge of the bird, I turned my head, looked down.”
“And you saw him drown.”
“No. I didn’t see him at all. We never did learn what made him lose his bearings and drown.” He was silent for a minute. “Probably, he’d taken a hit in the water and exhaustion did the rest, but all that wreckage swirling around down there didn’t help. I should have gone back down and dived for him.”
“You were injured,” she repeated quietly.
“I was the team leader. That was my job, my boy. Instead, Cal, the second swimmer, went down while I lay there in the basket in a daze, thinking about my leg and the pain and wondering when we’d get back to base. While Lars was down there and none of us could help.”
