“Roc Trellyn, if you—”
“Down, Melinda. I’m trying to stop. I’m tired. I wasn’t expecting you, so you can’t expect my manners to be great. Let’s get some rest. Maybe things will improve tomorrow.”
She stared at him for a moment, then turned and silently started down the ladder. He followed her.
She headed away from the galley and toward the captain’s cabin.
He was right behind her.
She entered his cabin and started to shut the door quickly, but he caught it.
She stared at him. “You did tell me I was supposed to stay in here,” she said.
“That’s right.” He forced the door open and followed her in, then closed it. She backed away from him, right into his desk, her eyes narrowed.
“If you think you can just—”
“Melinda, go to bed.”
“You must be joking!”
“About what?” He sat in the chair, hiking his feet up on the desk, folding his hands in his lap and staring at her curiously.
“You’re sleeping there?”
“Right here,” he said lightly.
She bit her lip, lashes sweeping over her eyes for a minute.
Then she swung around and approached the bunk. It was broad, very comfortable. No room for complaint.
She stretched out, fully dressed, and turned her back on him. Then she swung around and stared at him again within a matter of seconds.
“This won’t work.”
“I’m very comfortable.” He congratulated himself on being one hell of a liar.
“It’s a big boat!” she told him.
“I’ve promised my crew that I’ll be responsible for you and your whereabouts.”
“Where can I possibly go—”
“Back down below. To the sonar, to our maps and plans.”
“I was just—”
“Looking for the radio. I still want to know where you are.”
“If I were to move—”
“From right here, I’d catch you!” he said softly.
“But I’m not—”
“Good. Then we can both get some rest.”
She expelled another sigh of exasperation, staring at him hard.
“Good night, Melinda.”
She swung around once again, her back to him. “This will not work!” she insisted again.
She sounded almost as desperate as he felt.
He leaned his head back. The chair was hard. Uncomfortable. He stared at the bed. Her hair was dry, falling all around her in golden waves. She was curved, tempting, soft, provocative.…
He sighed.
She was right. It wasn’t going to work. And now …
He clamped down hard on his teeth, swallowing a groan. Damn it!
He was going to sleep!
Despite the fact that the elegant beauty who slept just an arm’s reach away in his bed was still his wife …
And despite the fact that he loved her still.
Chapter 4
He must have slept at some point during the night, because how else could he have woken up in such terrible pain? His neck hurt, his back hurt—hell, his whole damned body hurt.
And there she was. Sleeping just as sweetly as could be, all sprawled out, a vision in white and gold, arms embracing both his pillows, body cushioned by his mattress, one he’d ordered special, since he spent so much time on the boat.
Swearing softly, he rose, then banged his knee on the desk and swore again. Finally he stared at her.
She was still asleep. She didn’t move a hair.
He couldn’t take it. Muttering beneath his breath, he stumbled out on deck, where he ran right into Connie, who was heading into the galley in her bathing suit and white robe.
“Good morning!” she said cheerfully, then backed away. “All right, so it’s not such a great morning. But I’ve got the coffee on already. Maybe that will help. Then again, maybe not.”
“Coffee sounds great,” he muttered, walking past her to the port side of the boat.
“Where are you going?” she called after him.
“For a swim!”
“Now? The sun’s barely broken. It will be cold.”
“Good!”
He took a swift running leap up to the rail and plunged over.
Salty water greeted him. Nice and cold this early in the morning, even here in the Florida Straits. He plunged downward and downward with his dive, not fighting the momentum. A few seconds later he gave the water a firm shove and broke the surface once again. He swam hard toward the ship, feeling the familiar movements remove some of the aches in his muscles.
It was all her fault. Life had been going all right. At least he’d been sleeping.
Now she was sleeping beautifully while he had suffered the tortures of the damned all night. He didn’t feel as if he’d slept a wink. He felt as if he could bite.
He would damned well like to run into his cabin, pick up his sweetly sleeping little beauty and throw her overboard into a nice, crisp awakening!
He reached the aft ladder, twelve feet from the rear of his cabin, and found that Connie was there to greet him once again, this time with a cup of steaming black coffee in her hands.
He accepted it gratefully and leaned on the rail, dripping beside her.
“Well,” she said softly, “we thought that maybe you’d gotten lucky last night.” She caught his glance and amended her words quickly. “Well, I mean, we thought that maybe there’d been some kind of a reconciliation. But the way that you woke up …” Her voice trailed away, and she looked out over the sea. “It’s going to be a great day. A beautiful day for diving.”
He grunted his agreement, staring out toward the horizon. For those who had actually slept through the night, it probably was going to be a beautiful day.
Connie started to say something else, but he raised a hand to silence her, then pressed his temple with his thumb and forefinger.
“Did you drink too much?” Connie asked solicitously.
“No, I didn’t drink enough,” he replied softly. He slid off the railing, slipping a hand around her shoulders. “Did you say breakfast is on? Maybe we should head into the galley while it’s still edible.”
“Edible! Oh, the bacon!”
Connie went racing ahead; he followed more slowly.
Maybe breakfast would improve the morning.
Then again, maybe the morning was just doomed.
He seemed to be looking her way.
Melinda instantly dropped the curtain over the porthole again, sitting back on the bed, her heart beating too quickly, then seeming to become very heavy and fall into the pit of her stomach.
They’d looked so close, the two of them, so natural together. Connie handing him coffee, his fingers brushing hers as he took the cup. Then the soft conversation between them, their heads bent, nearly touching.
Melinda inhaled deeply and fought the sudden threat of tears. Well, what had she expected after three years? She’d had him once. And she’d lost him.
She lay back on the bed, still feeling an overwhelming sense of loss. She closed her eyes and wished that it weren’t quite so easy to remember the past.
She would never forget the very first time she had seen him, standing beside her father. So tall, so dark, built like steel. She’d never seen a more arresting man, nor had she ever met one who seemed to make her feel quite so young or insecure. Her father seemed to live by his word—Roc Trellyn had been all that Jonathan had talked about since she had come to live with him. But she hadn’t wanted to hear about anyone else, not then. She had been too wrapped up in herself, in her own guilt. She hadn’t caused the accident.…
But she hadn’t been home when it happened, and that had added to the guilt. If she hadn’t been out, she might have stopped her mother. At least that time. If she had just done something, she might have changed things. She couldn’t manage to put her feelings of absolute failure into words, but of all people, her father should have been the
one to understand how it was possible to love her mother for being sweet and beautiful and witty—and hate her at the same time. Sharon Davenport had died two days before her thirty-ninth birthday.
Melinda hadn’t been able to talk to anyone, but at least, in her father’s company, there was someone who had known Sharon, known her well, loved her. Jonathan was someone who could understand, someone she had needed badly at the time. He was removed, of course. He’d been gone for seven years. But he had still cared. He’d still felt the pain.
Melinda had been jealous of Roc Trellyn from the very first time she saw him.
And she had also been absolutely fascinated.
He was older than the college boys she had been dating, seven years older than she was. He was striking, and so assured, mature, his voice deep and strong, his eyes touched with wisdom. He was so handsome, broad at the shoulders, muscled in the right places, slim in others. She wanted to keep her father away from him, but she wanted to be near him herself.
Somewhere along the line, she realized that she simply wanted him. And then the fear of wanting someone so much—especially Roc Trellyn, who seemed to have someone waiting at every port—added to her discomfort. She didn’t keep her distance any longer; she seemed intent on picking fights, on making sure that he saw that though others might faint at his feet, she couldn’t care less.
But then there had come that day when they had been inadvertently thrown together in the same room, when she had felt his eyes on her, felt the length of her body burn from head to toe. She hadn’t known what she intended at first—only to apologize. She had been rotten, she had tried to irritate him, and she had also tried to make sure she didn’t pull any of her little tricks in front of her father. Maybe she couldn’t have him, but at least they could be friends.
But then he had talked to her, as even her father hadn’t talked to her, and it felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. She could remember staring into the depths of his blue eyes, seeing the passion in them, hearing him reassure her.
Then she could remember wanting him once again. And, at long last, having him …
She trembled suddenly and leaped up from the bed. She strode quickly to the not-so-small head in the Captain’s cabin and stood beneath the shower, anxious for the water to wash over her.
There had been no one in the world like Roc. No one to hold her, reassure her, love her. No one with his gently spoken wisdom.
And then again, no one with his shouted commands when he was on to something!
No one more stubborn.
No one fairer to a crew, more willing to listen.
Stop! she warned herself. She didn’t dare fall headlong into the trap of wanting him again, of loving him.…
Then just why was she here? she challenged herself.
To make sure that the big claim was his this time, that he found his Contessa, that she helped to make sure he wasn’t cheated a second time.…
Because she knew now that her father had been wrong, that Roc’s accusations had been hard, but that he had been right to walk away. She hadn’t known it then, though; she hadn’t seen it. Her father had given Roc his start, trained him like a son. She had only seen Roc turning his back on her father after all that. It had never occurred to her that Jonathan might be wrong, that Roc’s words might be true. She simply hadn’t been capable of believing any ill of her father. So now … now she had to make sure things did go his way. He had always said everyone else was wrong about the Contessa. And he had been right. Now the world would soon be congregating in this vicinity, seeking the lost ship. But by all rights she should be Roc’s. Melinda was a good diver, and she really could help.
And was that all she wanted? To fix things? she taunted herself.
No …
She had always wanted Roc. And she still did.
But it was too late. She had known it when she watched him sitting on the rail, his fingers curled around the cup of coffee another woman had given him. Their heads had been bowed, close together. He had laughed softly, touching Connie’s shoulder with obvious affection.
Well, what had she expected? It had been a long time. Three years since he had left.
She’d never, ever realized he really meant to go. He’d held her so tenderly that night, made love to her so passionately. And then he had been gone.…
And she hadn’t been able to believe the ache, the void, the pain.
Only pride had kept her from going after him, that and the fear that he wouldn’t want her again once he had left her behind.
The water was still running. She turned it off quickly, stepped out of the shower stall and shivered. Three years, and here she was, in his cabin, a most unwelcome guest—or a prisoner. It all depended on which way one chose to look at it.
And once again he’d managed to walk away. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she quickly blinked them away.
Well, she wasn’t staying in this cabin any longer, not unless he wanted to slide a bolt across the door.
And she could smell the tempting aroma of bacon. It made her stomach somersault as she realized just how long it had been since she had eaten.
She quickly donned her borrowed clothing again, then found his brush on the back of the sink and borrowed that. When she was done, she rummaged until she found an extra toothbrush in a case, and then she stared at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were too wide, too lost, too frightened. She lifted her chin. Better, a little better.
Then she took a deep breath and turned, determined. It was time to face the sea beasts!
Breakfast was on the table, a huge plate of bacon and sausage, muffins, toast and rolls, eggs scrambled with peppers and tomatoes. Despite the food, Roc had his maps out, ten of them in a bound roll. With his finger he traced a course from their position in the Florida Straits past Andros in the Bahamas and onward to a few of the smaller islands. “Now watch,” he murmured, flicking the first map over and showing the group a more detailed map of the area, one that identified all the smaller islands, inhabited and not, and the reefs around them, with emphasis on the ones that jutted into the water with little warning, causing danger to ships. “She’s here, right around this reef, and as soon as we’ve cleaned up, that’s where I want to head. Joe—” he began, then broke off.
Silently, lithely, she had come into the galley. Bathed, freshened, smelling as sweet as a field of roses, her beautiful face scrubbed clean, her golden hair a mane around her shoulders, Melinda had made her way to them at last.
She ignored him at first, greeting Connie with a cheerful, “Good morning!” Then she looked around at the rest of the crew, her smile in place. She extended a hand to Bruce. “Well, I suppose you all know who I am, and in a rather strange way we’ve already met, but I’d like to make a few amends and do it a little bit better, if you all don’t mind. I’m Melinda Davenport—”
“Trellyn, isn’t it?” Connie asked softly.
Melinda flushed a lovely shade of rose. It only added to her charm, Roc decided. “I’m not really sure,” she murmured, and hurried on, flashing Connie another smile and starting with Bruce.
“You’re Connie’s brother, Bruce. She told me that last night, while I was borrowing her clothes. And you …?” she inquired politely, facing Marina and Joe.
She had such a sweet smile on her face. They must all be thinking that he was either a complete bastard or a huge fool not to have managed to get along with her. In fact, they all looked a little hypnotized.
It was time to cut in.
“Joe Tobago and his wife, Marina. And Peter here rounds out my crew. Now if you’re—”
“I’m starving,” she said softly, smiling once again. “It smells absolutely delicious in here.”
Marina nodded, and Bruce suddenly leaped up. “Sit down. I’ll get you coffee.”
“How nice, thank you, but I can see the pot on the stove. I’ll get it myself.”
She did so, walking toward the stove, finding a cup, helping
herself. She came back to the table and looked down at the map. Roc clenched his teeth and carefully rolled up the lot of them.
“Excuse me,” she said softly. “Deep dark secrets.”
“You’re a spy,” he reminded her politely.
“A prisoner now,” she said lightly. “Aren’t prisoners supposed to be fed?”
“Bread and water,” he said flatly.
“Please, sit!” Marina said, casting Roc a stern gaze. “You must be starving. You ate nothing last night. The plates are there, help yourself.”
“Thank you,” Melinda said, and did so. Roc leaned back. She was comfortable. Just as comfortable as she had been last night, while he had suffered the tortures of the damned in a hard chair. “I do apologize if I was rude to you yesterday,” she told Bruce.
“Oh, it’s all right, really. You were in a net—”
“Enough!” Roc said irritably. “She was caught in a net because she meant to be there. Marina, is there any more coffee over there?”
“Aye, captain!” Marina murmured, going for the coffeepot. Roc stared hard at Melinda, who stared back innocently.
“You look extremely well-rested,” he commented.
“It’s a very comfortable cabin.”
“Bathed and fresh.”
“The water pressure in your shower is magnificent,” she replied politely. “And I took the liberty of borrowing a toothbrush from the pack of extras under the sink. There were a number of them.”
Um. He wasn’t the one who kept all the extra toothbrushes aboard, Marina was. But they were kept under the sink in his cabin simply because he had the most room. But he knew that Melinda must be wondering just how often he entertained in his cabin to keep such a collection of extra toothbrushes.
Good. Let her wonder. He had his own tortured thoughts to live with.
Longford!
Damn! He wanted to gag each time he thought the name. Wanted to pick her up and shake her …
He stood quickly, nearly knocking into Marina and the coffeepot she had just brought so she could pour him more coffee. “Bruce, we need to get under way. Let’s pull anchor and start moving.”
Between Roc and a Hard Place Page 5
