Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel

by Adams, Alissa

  "Thanks. And good morning to you, Lady D. How 'bout a big monkey smile?" Rene bared her teeth in an exaggerated grin and Lady D. gave it right back. Rene giggled. "I don't think that would ever not get a laugh out of me. She's the cutest little thing ever."

  I came up behind her and cupped her luscious bottom in one hand. "No, I think she might be the second cutest little thing."

  "Good morning all." I hadn't heard Stephen come through the door. I pulled my hand away from Rene's behind. There was no reason to be embarrassed but the look on Stephen's face made me feel like I'd just been caught with my hand in the cookie jar. Not that I needed his approval. What was between Rene and me was none of his business.

  "Mornin', Stephen. Seems like I haven't seen you in days." Rene poured two cups of coffee and handed one to each of us. "Breakfast okay downstairs?"

  "Perfect as usual, Rene. You're spoiling us." He sipped his coffee and looked at me. "I've been keeping pretty busy. Crossings don't leave me a lot of time for socializing."

  "Dylan, what can I get you this morning?"

  "Whatever the crew ate is fine, sweetie." That ‘Sweetie’ earned another raised eyebrow from my captain.

  "Scoot then, and I'll rustle it on up. Take her with you, please. She’s a terrible beggar and she knows I’ve got cookies."

  I patted my shoulder and surprisingly Lady D. obeyed me. It had become more difficult every day to persuade her to leave Rene's side.

  "It's Rene's birthday today," I told Stephen. I chose to ignore his not so subtle looks in the kitchen and carry on as if nothing had changed.

  "What are you up to, Dylan?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I mean what are you up to with Rene?"

  "We're getting to know one another. I like her."

  "Dylan you haven't liked a girl since you were eleven years old. And then it was your sister."

  "Well I like one now. What of it?"

  "I thought we agreed on some bullshit no-fraternization rule."

  "That was only to keep you from hound-dogging her."

  "And just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

  "Who died and left you in charge of my life?"

  "Somebody should be."

  "What's it to you, Stephen? Have you got something going on with Rene that I should know about?"

  "Naw, man. I just think she's a sweet girl. I'd hate to see her get hurt."

  "Let me clue you in, Captain. I've learned a bit about our sweet girl. There's a steel core in her. She has a mind of her own."

  "She's very smart, too."

  "What makes you think I don't appreciate that? And what makes you think I'd hurt her? Since when was your opinion of me so low?"

  "Oh give it up, Dylan. We both know exactly what I'm talking about. I've known you since you were a kid. The deepest relationship you have in this world is with me. And dude, it ain't all that."

  "There has to be a first time, doesn't there?"

  "Are you trying to tell me that you're in love with Rene?"

  "Hardly. Love is a long way off for me, bro." I didn't need to share the fact that the very thought of 'love' translated into the kind of pain that scared the daylights out of me. "But like I said, there's something different. I think I'd be foolish not to pursue it. Who knows?"

  Rene came out with my breakfast and set it down on the table. "Aren't you going to sit with me?" I asked her.

  "Not just yet Dylan. I want to hustle in the kitchen so I can enjoy my birthday afternoon to the fullest." She gave me a look that told me all I needed to know. She wanted more of me. She wanted all of me. And that was exactly what I was going to give her.

  Now that I’d had a sample of what that responsive little body could do, I watched her sexy sway as she went back into the kitchen with an even more appreciative eye. She was pure candy.

  "Hey Captain, if you'll lose the lecture mode, I'll co-pilot for a while."

  "Sure, Boss. I've said all I have to say." Stephen didn't look too terribly pleased. But he was smart enough not to take it any further. We were friends, but there was still a working relationship. It helped keep him humble.

  "How 'bout it, Lady D.? Cockpit time?" The monkey bobbed up and down on my shoulder in agreement.

  The Atlantic had favored us with great conditions. We were making excellent time and that meant we'd reach the Azores sooner than we thought. Anxious as I was to have a pow-wow with the old man, I really needed a couple of days fishing before I faced land again. I figured we'd start trolling just for the hell of it. We'd have to slow her down to about ten knots, but I was willing to sacrifice a little bit of distance a couple hours a day.

  Stephen and I came up with a game plan that started the next day with two or three lines running in the early morning. We'd bring the lines in around nine if we didn't catch anything and kick the engines up after that.

  By the time we reached Ponta Delgada we'd have sea trialed all the gear and be ready to use the tender for some serious action. I was anxious to show Rene what big game fishing was all about. It was something important to me that I'd never even attempted to share with a woman. It was odd. I wanted her to know me. Really know me.

  Eventually she'd have to know about the darker side, too. I wondered when I'd be ready to tell her about it. There was a name for my mother's madness. Facetious disorder by proxy. What a mouthful. The official term was only slightly better than the old school one—Munchausen’s by proxy. I often wished the AMA would just call it 'making-a-kid-think-he's-sicker-than-sick crazy'. Not that that was any easier, it just said it better. Or maybe child abuse by thermometer.

  After Dawn was gone and my father finally came around to accepting the fact that his wife was mad as a hatter, I did get some help. A little kid thinks he's sick when the people around him tell him he's sick. Any moments of doubt I had were quickly squashed by my mother's inventive imagination. If I wasn't actively battling one of my many 'illnesses' then I was avoiding the next one. It took most of my adolescence for the shrinks to help me understand that I wasn't actually the sick one.

  When it finally sunk in, I hit the world at a full run and never stopped. I stayed inside as little as I could get away with. I took risks and if something brought me down—the flu, a sprain, a blistered back—I toughed it out until it went away. Pills never made it past my throat. Not an aspirin, a vitamin or a tab of X. Even the thought of recreational drugs gave me cold chills. I always figured I avoided some trouble that way as a bonus.

  She never hit me. She never even scolded me. To anyone observing our family, my mom was an angel of patience with two unfortunately puny and sickly children. She thrived on the sympathy of doctors, the kindness of nurses and the guilty gratitude my father gave her for taking the burden of my sister and me all on herself.

  No one ever saw those deep blue eyes frost over when Dawn and I would laugh too loud for a couple of sick kids. No one else felt the vice-grip of her hand when one of us tried to tell a doctor that it really didn't hurt/itch/burn as bad as our mother said it did.

  I'm sure she poisoned us frequently. No kid has that many stomach aches. She was good at it, too. She knew how to deliver just enough to make us puke or double up in pain but never enough to raise a red flag in the emergency room. "Just another case of stomach flu, Mrs. Cruz. Your children are so vulnerable." "Maybe you should see an allergist, Mrs. Cruz. This could be a food reaction." "Some children react to stress this way. Perhaps a quieter environment will help."

  I shook myself out of my terror world. There would be time for true confessions later. Much later. I knew if I really wanted to know someone I had to let that someone know me. But at that moment I wanted to share another kind of knowledge. I wanted to build on what I'd learned about the glory of her willing body.

  Her birthday. It was an appropriate day to show her the magic of what I knew our bodies could do together.

  Chapter 17—Rene

  I shook with excitement. I had to get my hands on auto-pilot just to make it
through lunch. Dylan snatched a sandwich from the platter I had ready to dumb-waiter down to the crew. I threw him a questioning look.

  "A little plastic meat and cheese sandwich isn't going to kill me today." He leaned into my ear so that Angelo couldn't hear. "No pool today. Come to my stateroom. Leave Angelo to finish." The vibration of his words and the warmth of his breath brought goose bumps to my flesh. "I can't wait, Rene. Hurry."

  I showered quickly. The clothes I chose were meaningless. I knew he'd have them off of me without ever noticing I'd worn anything at all. I was right. As soon as he locked the door behind us, he began to unbutton my blouse as he kissed me over and over again.

  I couldn't do anything but yield, happily, to his mouth. His kisses were soft and commanding at the same time. He teased at the tip of my tongue. Then he possessed my mouth in earnest making me shudder at the intensity of my reaction. I was all his.

  He slid my shorts and panties down to my feet and I stepped off of the pile as he ripped his shorts down his powerful legs. Then he held me at arm's length.

  "You're too beautiful for description." I loved hearing the words. I wanted to believe them. I wanted to believe the way I felt when I heard them.

  We stumbled toward the bed, pawing and kissing and touching everything and everywhere. He laid me back against the bed and stood towering at the foot, all muscle and manhood and all for me.

  I was holding nothing back. He could have me, take me, do what he wanted to with whatever I had to offer. He started his journey at my feet. He must have filed away my admission that they were a responsive part of me.

  When he ran his tongue along my instep I arched and moaned. He kissed the tips of my toes and shifted his attention to the other foot where he performed the same sexy ritual. He was the first man to ever pay such lavish attention to my feet. It was so sensual, so intimate. I had the feeling that Dylan was going to teach me more than one thing about my body. And he did.

  This man knew me. He knew my body as much as I knew it. He read my desires without my ever giving them a voice. We tried to take it slow, but passion fueled our lovemaking. Soon there was nothing left in the room but the fire we had set.

  We collapsed onto the bed, panting and utterly spent. His weight felt solid and comforting against my back. After we caught our breath he climbed over me and drew me next to him on the big bed.

  We looked at each other for a long time, just studying each other's face and smiling goofy smiles. It was easy in the afterglow. We traded tender kisses that left questions unasked. The gratitude of desire well sated gave tenderness to the moment.

  We drifted off, wrapped around each other and when we awakened the desire was back. We moved less urgently, more delicately, but it was equally satisfying for us both. I reluctantly pried myself from his arms late in the afternoon. Duty called. I left him sleeping on wrinkled, sex scented sheets.

  ***

  Dinner came and went with no sign of Dylan. Finally, after we'd cleared everything up he padded into the kitchen dressed in only his shorts and looking very much like a rumpled kid who'd overslept.

  "Hi."

  "Hi." I didn't know what was expected. It wasn't a date. I couldn't go home gracefully. I was home.

  "I guess I missed dinner."

  "I can get you something."

  "No. I think . . . I think I'll just have a drink." He reached into the cooler and got out his bottle of Grey Goose. I looked at him, trying to ask him without asking him if anything was wrong. It wasn’t a good time to go all 'needy' on him, of that I was very sure. He saw the questions bubbling up in my face in spite of my attempts to hide them. He came over to me, tilted my face up to his and brushed my lips with a sweet kiss. "It's okay, Rene. It was beautiful. But . . ."

  "But?" What was the 'but' about?

  "I'm not used to this. It's me. I don't quite know what to do next."

  I understood. I didn't know either. "It's okay. I know the feeling. Let's just get some rest."

  He looked relieved. Too damn relieved. I could feel the bile of shame gurgling at the back of my throat. Too much, too soon. The siren cry of a big mistake.

  I deliberately lightened the tone. There was no need to play drama queen with him. I forced myself to suck it up and accept our little ‘thing’ for what it was—just another score for a player and a girl who was a genius at choosing poorly. "I guess you and Stephen are setting some marlin baits in the morning?" A neutral question was my brave attempt to pull off my charade. He could have easily seen through it. He chose not to.

  "Uh, yeah?"

  "He told me there'd be an early start tomorrow. I'll have the coffee hot and ready."

  "Oh. Right."

  "Well then . . . you need some sleep. Don't do too much damage to that Goose tonight." With that I raised myself onto my tiptoes and gave him what I hoped was an appropriate—not pouty, not needy, not desperate—kiss.

  Then I went into my room and cried myself to sleep. Stupid me making my favorite mistake again.

  Chapter 18—Dylan

  I went back to my room and got drunk as possible as quickly as possible. I drank fast and hard until all the confusion just melted into a puddle of alcohol induced numbness. It was cowardly but efficient.

  When I had awakened from my nap and she was gone I panicked. It was irrational. It was crazy. But the first feeling I had was abandonment and it scared the shit out of me. Literally. I had to run for the head where my bowels emptied in a sick rush of watery sludge. I doubled over on the commode, clutching my belly with the pain so intense I broke into a cold sweat.

  Deep breaths, man, deep breaths. I concentrated intensely on the rhythm and pattern of my chest slowly moving to my will. It was a technique I’d learned years before from a shrink who told me that it was similar to what women are taught when they go for natural childbirth. I could believe it. If labor was as painful as what my gut did to me during an anxiety attack, I think I’d opt for major drugs.

  Irrational never grows up. A person doesn’t reach sixteen, eighteen or twenty-eight and suddenly wake up and say—“Well, gee, I’m glad that’s over!” There’s a process to healing. In my optimistic moments, I believe I’ve come a long way.

  In moments of panic I am eleven years old and the one warm soul in my and Dawn’s life has vanished. Or I am thirteen and my sister—the best friend I ever had—is gone. I am as scared and stricken with inconsolable grief and loss as a person—young or old—could ever be. It terrified me that Rene could evoke such feelings.

  She brought me to a place where I wanted her to know me as a better man. I wanted her to see the man hidden inside me. I didn’t want to show her the man who postured and pretended to be greater than he was. I wanted to give her the truth. I wanted to be, for her, a man who was all he could be. And I wanted the sum of me to please her, fundamentally and deeply.

  And when I woke and she was gone, my half sleeping mind thrust me into the terror so profound it overwhelmed.

  When I looked at her sweet face in the kitchen I saw that she was ready to understand anything. She was there for me in all the ways a woman could be there for a man. She had given me the precious gift of her body and her expression told me that she was more than ready to give me the rest—her trust, her affection and, yes, most likely her heart.

  I felt like an idiot for pushing her away. Make that a childish idiot. A damaged child and certainly not the man I wanted to be. It was cowardly not to trust her when she was so clearly worthy of that trust. Me? I run away and hide in a bottle of vodka.

  When the alarm woke me the next morning, the fog of the hangover I so deserved lifted just enough for me to drag myself to the table in the dining salon. She brought me a cup of coffee and I couldn't meet her eyes.

  I had a vague understanding that Stephen was already setting the lines and there was a faint possibility that we might get lucky and hook up. For the first time in my life I wished it wouldn't happen. I wanted to crawl back into my cave and hide.

  Rene e
yed me warily and tiptoed around. She was walking on eggshells and didn't know what to do with me. I knew it; I just didn't know how to make it right.

  What kind of small talk do you make when your special hell is swirling around your head and you can't make sense of it yourself, let alone share it?

  "Breakfast?" she ventured.

  "Not just yet, but thanks." I wanted her to stop being so nice. It wasn’t her fault I was so messed up. I was giving her every reason to believe that her first instincts had been right about me. I was a mistake, but she didn't know why.

  She'd blame herself and it wasn't her fault. Not at all. I was a bad choice but not because of anything she had done. I had to try; somehow, to make her see that is wasn’t her. That much she deserved.

  “Rene . . .” Her ‘yes’ came too quickly. It was a yes that made me squirm. It was a yes that begged for an answer. “I don’t want to give you the impression I didn’t enjoy last night.”

  “Don’t worry. I don’t doubt that you enjoyed it. You supplied evidence.” She smiled a half-sexy, half-sad little grin.

  “But my behavior left you confused.”

  “Why? Do you think that I expected roses and a diamond ring? I’m a grown woman, Dylan. Eyes wide open and all that.” Her body language turned the temperature in the room below zero.

  “You don’t have to turn hostile and cold. I told you last night—you’ve taken me by surprise.”

  “I wasn’t trying to be hostile, just realistic. Surely you don’t believe that I imagine I’m the first girl you’ve had in that stateroom.”

  “Not as many as you’d think. Lady D. isn’t fond of strange women.” Her frankness unnerved me. I swallowed hard and said, “You’re right, though. But this is the first time—I swear it—that I’ve ever awakened thinking that I’d just ‘made love’ to someone.”