Russell slid into the cockpit and sat on the bench seat, but made no move to take the tiller.
“Hi, Cassidy. Thanks for coming.” He set his feet on the opposite bench and rested his elbows along the back. “Not much wind in August, but it’s nice not to be fighting some gale to get to a lighthouse.”
He looked great. Cutoff shorts, still showing some of the stains that matched his boat’s deck, revealed muscular legs. His dark t-shirt was a perfect match for his dark eyes. The wind tugged at the curls of hair. Bare feet.
“Pirate.”
“What?”
“You look like a pirate. Well, a modern pirate.”
“I seem to have misplaced my sword. And you seem to have misplaced your heading.”
She was aiming square at the second hill, island. She shoved the tiller over. The sails snapped loudly at the sudden change. He pulled on one of the lines and the boom swung closer over the deck.
There was a loud mew from the top of the boom.
“It’s okay, girl. Just a newbie on the crew. We pirates can’t be too choosy, just have to scavenge what we can find on the high seas.”
A man who talked to his cat in whole sentences.
“I must have a thousand photos of that silly beast. I’m thinking of producing a book of cat photos. You know, the cute point-of-sale things by the cash registers.”
“Cats of the world?”
“Cats of the world?” He rolled the sound over his tongue. “That’s perfect. A whole series. Cats of the South Seas.”
“Caribbean Cats.”
“Mediterranean Cats.”
“Coy Cats of Cancun.”
He grinned at her. For the first time since she’d boarded, he really looked at her. And she totally lost her heading. The sails flapped. Nutcase mewed loudly and thumped down onto the deck. But she couldn’t look away.
He’d sent her roses on the last day of her class. Not a little bouquet, he’d sent an armful. Dozens of long reds, yellows, and whites delivered in the middle of class right in front of everyone. She hadn’t been able to speak over the applause and good-natured laughter.
He slid a hand over hers on the tiller. With a gentle pressure, he eased them back onto course.
She was trapped, the tiller across her lap and Russell Morgan across the only way out from under.
He didn’t lean toward her. Didn’t hear her heart crashing away but sending no blood at all to her brain. He merely held her gaze with those eyes.
Once they were back on course, he released his hold on her and sat back.
He stared over the side at the water for a long time before he spoke.
“Do you want me to take you back to the dock?”
She could see that the words cost him deeply. He didn’t turn to face her—which was good, because if he had, she’d have been lost. She was pretty lost anyway. His offer was perhaps the nicest compliment she’d ever had—it was also about the most charming.
Cassidy glanced back and was surprised at how far they’d come. Less than an hour from dock and Anacortes had disappeared behind them.
She’d given little thought to what might happen aboard the boat with Russell and only a cat for a chaperone, beyond choosing to drive to Anacortes rather than sail. However, now that she was here, there was little question of what might well happen if she remained. Even if common sense said run, she couldn’t deny how it felt to be sitting so closely beside him.
She managed to shake her head. He didn’t see, because he wasn’t looking.
“Let’s…” her voice was barely a whisper. If they had been traveling by engine instead of wind, he wouldn’t have heard her.
But he did and turned.
His eyes weren’t begging…not quite.
Unable to speak, she shook her head once more.
They both smiled carefully.
He turned back to watch the water.
“We’re nearly there.”
Cassidy didn’t awake from her afternoon nap with a start as he’d expected. She woke slowly, like a cat stretching and considering her next action carefully. Perhaps a yawn, perhaps another stretch. She’d slept for several hours in the shade of the cockpit bench. He’d managed not to stare too much. Part of him was amazed that she felt safe enough to sleep in his presence. He’d take that as a plus.
She wandered below and was a while coming back up.
She’d changed into shorts and a halter top that nearly blew his blood pressure. Her light blouse was now open, worn more as a shawl against the sun than a cover. It revealed and hid her figure with every motion and breath of the wind. Her hair, let down from its tight bun, cascaded about her shoulders. Her face still had that sleepy look of freshly wakened and washed with cool water.
“Man! You are so far beyond Teri’s league.”
The warm-and-washed look turned icy so fast it knocked the air out of his lungs.
“You’re gorgeous!” She was.
The chill frost was replaced by a charming blush.
She was beyond that. Teri was shapely, Melanie was beautiful, but Cassidy Knowles, while not centerfold beautiful, was incredibly attractive. You couldn’t not look at her.
“Uh, thanks.”
He shook himself. “Sorry, I, that didn’t, but you’re…” He slapped a hand over his mouth.
She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead. Her hair slid along either side of his face. He had a view right down her neck and into her halter top. But it was her smell that got him. Warmth, home, and the open ocean with no perfume, not even scented soap. There had never been any woman who smelled like that. Ever.
Taking the seat opposite, she stretched her long legs across to his side. So close, he could reach out and stroke them if he dared. Cassidy had runner’s legs, every curve just perfect—unpainted toes. Now why did he find that intriguing? He was being ridiculous.
Look up, Russell. Look at the island. Check the chart. Reef along the east point. Shoals in close on the north. You’ll rip off your keel if you don’t pay more attention.
He swung to the south, into deeper water. Slipping around the western point, they slid around into Active Cove. There were two state-run mooring buoys, both open, which was rare for a Friday in August. He did his best to concentrate only on swinging into the wind. He hooked the buoy on the first try and cleated it off, letting the sails back him away until they were at rest.
He had the sails part way down before he noticed Cassidy was standing across the boom, looking lost.
Without speaking, he showed her how to flake the sail into neat folds atop the boom. When it was lying neatly between the lazy jacks, he snapped the bungee cord in place. The jib was dropped and flaked in record time. Her hands were agile and strong once she knew what to do. They didn’t have to talk, it was so easy and so natural.
Don’t go there, Russell. She’s just this incredibly desirable woman who has agreed to come out sailing with you. And only for the day at that.
The sails were set and the boat was well-tied. They were standing on the foredeck, a space barely three by five feet between the cabin and the forehatch.
For the life of him, he didn’t know what to do, didn’t know what to say. Should he reach for her or turn away before his pounding blood blew his brainpan into a puddle of mush?
“I loved the roses.” Her voice was deep and throaty, hoarse on a lesser woman. Best thing ever on Cassidy Knowles.
She stepped into his arms and their lips met with an electric shock that nearly knocked his knees out from under him.
They hadn’t even looked at the stupid lighthouse yet.
“I, uh…”
“Don’t!” Cassidy was glaring up at him, just a few inches shorter, just a breath away.
“What?”
“You were going to apologize.”
He nodded.
“Well, don’t.”
“But…”
She held up her hand to silence him, but he ignored her.
“I promised safe pa
ssage. I promised that you’d be as safe as you want to be aboard my boat.” And now he’d gone and kissed her. Kissed her long and hard with a need that had surprised them both—well, it had shocked him anyway. And it had been fantastic.
“I said, ‘Safe’.”
“You did.”
She raised an eyebrow, a smile tickled the corner of her mouth. That soft, strong mouth. He wanted to kiss her again and feel how it changed as that smile took shape.
“And?”
“I took advantage.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Angelo would smack him but good.
“Russell?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t you think I’m old enough to know my own mind?”
“You’re old enough to—”
“Careful there, big boy.”
He bit his tongue and looked away from that maddening smile. The lighthouse was perched a few hundred yards away, on the northernmost San Juan Island. Next stop was Canada. They were out at the limits.
“Old enough to…make me completely insane.”
“Nice save.”
“Weak, but best I’ve got on a moment’s notice. Did you really like the roses?”
“It’ll do. And I loved the flowers. How did you know where to send them? And two weeks of poetry and stories and sea chanties. Gads!” She rested her hand on her heart. Somehow he had touched her, rather than scaring her off. Duh, she was here, wasn’t she?
He needed to get some distance or he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He let her go and moved to the dinghy and began to untie it from the deck cleats.
“I googled you and your class popped up. I called the dean to find out when your last class was.”
“You called the dean?” Cassidy undid the other ends of the lines. She started to untie the rope on the bow of the dinghy until he stopped her.
“We’ll need that. Couldn’t reach him, so I talked to some chef, Clara somebody.” Together they lifted the little boat over the lifelines and dropped it bottom down into the water. He should have cleaned it. There were a thousand paint splotches. Globs of epoxy that probably wouldn’t let go without taking some of the boat with them.
“You talked to Master Chef Clara Nichols? I barely got to talk to her.”
“Nice lady. She helped me find a good florist, too. They want to talk to you about a Christmas class down at the California center as well.”
She stood with her fists on her hips. Her eyes snapped with a fire that came out of nowhere—man, he loved when she did that. Cassidy Knowles was feisty and strongheaded, which suited him right down to his toes. He was torn between throwing her overboard or dragging her down to his bunk below. To buy himself a moment of equilibrium, he pulled the oars out of their cradle and tossed them down into the dinghy instead.
Then he turned to face her and matched her stance, fists on hips.
Finally she blew at her bangs.
He blew at his even though he didn’t have any.
“What am I supposed to do with you?”
“Either climb into my bed or my boat.”
She didn’t laugh in his face, she didn’t get angry and slap him either. Both were good signs.
Instead, that smile opened up its thousand-watt brilliance on him and he had to restrain himself to not lean across and taste it.
“There’s no bed here,” she made a show of looking up and down the rocky beach. “I’ll take the boat.”
They both knew there was one down below, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he nodded and untied the painter, using it to lead the dinghy back toward the break in the lifelines.
“Yes, I’ll take the boat,” her voice behind him little louder than the lapping of the water on the hull. “For now.”
The painter slipped from his fingers and he almost lost the whole mess into the sea.
Cassidy had a terrible time hiding her smile as she lay back in the stern of the tiny rowboat. Russell pulled stoutly on the oars, making the dinghy nearly launch with each stroke. His eagerness to return to the sailboat was showing. She did her best to look Victorian and swooning as the pirate dragged her to his lair.
He showed the effects of their afternoon. His shirt had grass stains, a couple of leaves and a bit of branch perched in his hair—right where she’d tucked them in while he kissed her. And now she knew how wonderfully soft his hair truly was.
They had run about like a couple of teenagers. Grabbing a kiss at the very westernmost tip of the island. Slapping her hand against those cut-off jeans of his and discovering a few things about that rear of his. One, his body was just a firm as it looked. Two, it was good that she was fleet of foot, because he was a very fast runner when motivated.
The dinghy thudded into the side of his boat so hard she almost flew forward into his arms. In seconds the boat was tied off and the oars had been tossed aboard.
He climbed up first and offered her a hand. She stepped straight into his arms and probably bruised her lips they came together so hard. They both leaned into it: tasting, touching, groaning.
He definitely wasn’t a useless man who didn’t know what he wanted. He clearly wasn’t thinking about the latest stock deal or sporting event. Russell was completely here with her, wholly present in her arms, and she sure wasn’t going to let go.
He smelled of sea salt and man. There was no other word for it.
He suddenly bent down and put his shoulder into her waist, lifted her from her feet as if she weighed little more than his cat. She pounded his back, hard enough to make him grunt, not hard enough to make him put her down.
Her ears were buzzing loudly as he turned for the cabin.
No, it wasn’t her ears. It was a speedboat filled with teenagers, roaring by less than a dozen feet away. A moment later their wake caught the sailboat.
The deck tilted.
She grabbed for what she could and latched onto the back of his belt and the waistband of his shorts.
He staggered one way. Staggered back.
And then she was flying free—soaring through the air in a moment of weightlessness.
They she hit the ocean with a splash.
The water was freezing. She kicked for the surface and gasped for air. The water was so cold it was hard to think.
More water sprayed in her face.
“Morgan!”
He’d surfaced next to her. “This water is unbelievably cold.”
“No kidding!” She palmed a big spray of seawater into his face. While he spluttered, she looked up at the moored sailboat. Even in the few moments they’d been in the water, the current had drifted them away from it. They both swam, but didn’t make any headway at first. She dug in deeper, kicked harder; it was slow work against the ocean current. She was getting colder and weaker with each passing moment.
They finally reached the boat where she grabbed onto the stern of the dinghy but couldn’t pull herself up. The deck of the boat was far out of reach; what had been an easy step up from the dinghy was now a vast wall of wood. She lunged, but couldn’t get close to the edge of the deck. And the cold was making her joints ache.
Russell dove.
“Don’t you leave me!” she shouted down at the water.
Then he shot out of the water, half his body shooting into the air. A thousand drops of water sparkled all over him like a merman emerging from the deep. One hand caught the edge of the deck. Biceps flexed, shoulders rippled, and in moments he was aboard.
A hand reached down from above. She grabbed it.
He heaved, practically pulled her arm out of its socket.
Moments later she was sitting in the cockpit, the remains of her blouse wrapped around her as the shivers began to set in. There remained no sign of the kids in the speedboat, not even a wake.
“Come on. We have to get out of these clothes.”
She shuddered. “That was the original idea. Now I’m n-n-not so motivated. How can water be so cold?” Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
He pulled her to her feet
and guided her below. The ladder was a major challenge.
“Puget Sound has a huge tide,” Russell finally grabbed her by the waist and simply plucked her off the ladder and set her down inside the cabin. “Fresh seawater from Alaska pumps in here every day. Good thing it’s summer; it means that you have a life expectancy of about twelve minutes in this water. In the winter, it’s more like four before hypothermia sets in.”
“Great!” The cool shade inside the boat only chilled her more deeply.
“Can we sue them or something?”
“They’re long gone. The little charmers.”
He peeled off her blouse, halter top, and bra. She’d never felt so unromantic before in her life. Going to the doctor was more exciting than this. She tried to undo her shorts, but couldn’t control her fingers. He undid them and shucked them off her legs.
“You are one big goose bump.”
“That’s because I’m freezing to death, you big hunk of meat. I don’t have all the insulation you do.”
He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. He held her close and scrubbed his hands up and down her back to warm her up. His chest was cold and wet, but she leaned into it. She didn’t want to admit to being scared, but watching the boat drift away in that moment before they’d started swimming had been terrifying. Her life had suddenly gone out of control as she was ripped from everything safe.
He smelled so good. She hid her face against his chest and luxuriated in the warmth of his scrubbing hands. Her very joints hurt with the cold. Moments ago she’d wanted to throw herself against his body, now she wanted to cower there.
Another shiver shook her so hard she couldn’t even hold onto the blanket which slipped off her shoulders.
“You really took a chill. Come on,” he dragged her forward.
She managed to step around the missing floorboard despite the silly putty that had replaced her knees. Moments later he had her tucked into the bed. She pulled the covers over her head and gave in to the shakes.
Moments later he slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her.
It was the safest place she’d ever been.
If only it wasn’t so icy cold.
Cassidy didn’t remember when the shivers stopped. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She didn’t remember it getting dark.
The Complete Where Dreams Page 24
