Tempest Tossed: A Love Unexpected Novel

by Adams, Alissa

  “Let me put the leftovers away and I’ll be right in. Can I get you anything else?”

  “How about a nice big therapeutic shot of Grey Goose on the rocks?”

  “Is the pain bad?”

  “No, not really. Just throbs a little. I just happen to like the Grey.”

  I hoped he didn’t like it too much. But with Dylan’s distaste of medication, I figured he wasn’t going to go overboard self-dosing with booze. “I suppose it can’t hurt you. There’s plenty of food in your stomach to absorb the alcohol.”

  “Thank you for your approval,” he said flatly.

  Whoops. It was the tone. I hated it. “I didn’t mean it that way. You don’t need my approval.”

  “That’s right. I don’t.” With that he swung himself past the door to the bedroom.

  The ice clinked in the cheap hotel tumbler and the sound of it scolded me. It was absolutely none of my business if Dylan wanted to have a snort after dinner. It was a combination of things that made me come off like a mother hen. I’d been thrust into a caretaker position that I was now having a bit of trouble shaking even though Dylan had made it super clear that he didn’t need or want it. He couldn’t know what he’d said or done when he was in the throes of that fever and it was up to me to put it behind me or risk his ire.

  Chapter 28—Dylan

  I propped myself up against the headboard with the two available pillows that were on the bed. I could have used a few more. Why is it that hotels are so stingy with the pillows? Do that many people want to steal cheap pillows that have been slept on by hundreds of strangers? That thought didn’t do much to make me more comfortable. I was just slightly happier sleeping in a hotel than I was in the hospital. Both circumstances made me think of other people’s bodily fluids and functions.

  Concentrating on the friendly sound of ice cubes hitting the bottom of a glass, I surfed through a few channels on the TV not really looking for anything in particular. A newscaster announced that one of the Royal Family had been “taken to hospital” and wondered for the umpteenth time what the Brits had against the word ‘the’.

  Rene came in with two glasses and set mine beside me on the nightstand.

  “I stole your pillow. Can you see if there are more?” She set her drink down on the other side of the bed and fetched the two extras from the closet. “What are you drinking?” I asked her when she had settled next to me.

  “Some of your vodka and orange juice. I can’t drink it straight.”

  “You realize, of course, that it’s against the law in France to mix the Grey with anything.”

  “You’re not serious.”

  I laughed at her naiveté. She sounded like she half believed me. “No, I’m not.”

  “Good. But it wouldn’t surprise me. The French can be terribly snobby about their ‘stuff’. I once had a French chef rip me a new one when I referred to a California sparkling wine as champagne.” She took a sip of her drink and wrinkled her nose. “The guy told me by law a wine can only be called champagne if it is from Champagne.” She took another sip, this time without the wrinkling. “I told him to excuse me for my provincial ignorance.”

  “You can be a bit of a smart ass, can’t you?”

  “I suppose. It comes with the occupation.”

  “I like it. Wimpy women annoy me.” I liked looking at her beside me on the bed, the TV unwatched in the background, and the smell of a spaghetti dinner still hanging in the air. It felt familiar. It felt like something a normal couple would do. The last female I watched TV with was probably my sister Dawn.

  “Wimpy is not something I’m often accused of being. Bitchy, maybe. Sarcastic, perhaps. Sometimes even overly sensitive.”

  I leaned over and stroked the inch or so of thigh I could reach under the hem of her shorts. “Overly sensitive can be a plus.” I pulled her over to me and she nestled at my side.

  She parted the hotel robe I wore and played with the hair on my chest. The touch of her fingers sent my nipples into tiny tight fists. When she traced the hook on my chest a shiver shot all the way through me.

  “Tell me about the hook.”

  “It’s a circle hook. They’re designed to do less damage to the fish. Makes release a lot easier. It also makes it slightly easier to lose the fish. But the survival rate is a lot higher with circles when you catch and release.”

  “What do you think happened to the one that cut you?”

  “I’m afraid she probably didn’t make it. She took the whole rig with her and that would be hard for her to get rid of. It’s a shame.”

  “After what she did to you?”

  “Babe, the fish wasn’t trying to hurt me. She was trying to survive. I love the sport and I love the magnificent beasts that make it so thrilling. I hate to think I was responsible for killing her.”

  “That’s very noble but . . .”

  “But what?”

  “Okay, I know this isn’t what you want to hear. But, if you care so much about the welfare of the animals, why hunt them at all? You can’t believe that the fish enjoy being hooked and pulled by their lips for miles.”

  “I don’t think fish have lips. Technically speaking.” I knew exactly what she was getting at and I’d heard it all before. It wasn’t a subject I could really make her understand until she had experienced the thrill of it for herself. Hunters are always being asked to explain themselves. Even the ones who eat what they hunt. It’s harder still to explain hunting a fish just for the sake of the hunt. A marlin is an awesome animal but not up there in cuteness with, say, Bambi.

  I changed the subject. “You, on the other hand, have gorgeous lips. They are lips I would never hook. They’re lips to be cherished and pleasured always.”

  I tipped her face toward mine and our tongues danced a languid waltz. She tasted citrusy fresh and the tip of her nose was soft against my skin. I threaded my fingers through her hair, feeling the silk of it slide through the sensitive webbing between my fingers. Nibbling on her bottom lip earned me an appreciative little sound.

  She broke away from our kiss long enough to murmur in my ear. “I remember how talented you are with that tongue.”

  “And I’ll be even better the second time . . .and the third . . .and the fourth . . .”

  When Rene told me that I was the first man she had ever experienced orgasm with, I wasn’t just flattered or pleased with myself. It was way more than that. Because of who she was to me and the depth of what I felt for her almost instantly, I cherished her new found ability like a precious gift tailor made just for me.

  Our rhythm that night was slow, sensual and wholly satisfying. When she slipped from me and nestled against my side, silence was sufficient. There was safety and peace in each other’s arms. The invincibility of lovers cast its eternal glow over us and we drifted into the Land of Nod without another word.

  Chapter 29—Rene

  The nice thing about crossing the ocean in a boat instead of a plane is that jet lag is not an issue. I woke up in the hotel room with the sun just as I had conditioned myself to do. The transition from restaurant hours to regular hours had been harder on my circadian rhythm than sailing through five time zones.

  I stretched my limbs and soaked in the luxury of being a well tended-to woman. It was still a new feeling and I savored it. I tried not to think about how much time I’d wasted getting there.

  There was some relief mixed in with the afterglow. Guilty though it made me feel to recall it, those days of being Dylan’s nurse and surrogate for whoever the mysterious ‘Kelly’ was had sowed a niggling little seed of doubt. It threw me off guard when my alpha hero was suddenly the equivalent to a whiny ten year old. After all the nurturing I was forced into I wondered if our passion would have the same intensity it had in the first incredible days. It was an immature thing to consider and I disliked myself for it.

  But I needn’t have worried. Those niggling doubts were incinerated instantly in the fire we started in our foreign bed. If anything, we had taken it
to a higher level.

  He stirred. The brilliance of his eyes put the morning sky to shame. It was a gift just to see them open them to the new day. He smiled a sleepy 'good morning' and told me I was beautiful. Neither one of us were prepared for the doorbell to ring.

  “What time is it?” He was still getting his bearings.

  I glanced at the bedside clock. “Seven-fifteen,” I said, reaching for a robe.

  “Don’t answer it. Whoever is rude enough to come to the door at this hour can come back later. It’s probably just the guy with the morning paper.”

  “Since when do they ring the bell when they leave the paper? I’ll let management know we’d prefer the silent type of delivery.”

  It rang again. I looked at Dylan and he shook his head. “Leave it.”

  A persistent knock followed. There followed a voice that made me shiver when I placed its owner.

  “Dylan, I need to speak to you. Come to the door.” It was Jackson Cruz’s voice and it drained the color out of Dylan’s face and the strength out of my knees.

  “I’ll send him away.” I didn’t want to face the senior Cruz, but the look on Dylan’s face was like nothing I’d ever seen. It made me ill to look at the terror in his eyes.

  “You will not. Give me that robe. I won’t have you facing down the devil for me.” He struggled to seat himself at the edge of the bed and I handed him the hotel’s terry robe. I made a move to help him get it on his body but he backed me off with an evil look. Taking the crutches from beside the nightstand, he rose to his feet. I knew better than to try to give him a hand.

  Standing in front of the dresser mirror, Dylan ran an unsteady hand through his hair and smiled crookedly at his reflection. “Hair’s too long, need a shave and I’ve still got Mom’s blue eyes. Perfect.”

  He swung his bad leg and hopped on his good one as he clumped toward the living room. “Stay in this room,” was all he said to me before he closed the bedroom door and went to face his father. “Give me a moment, Dad. I’m not too steady on my feet.”

  He took his time. I knew he was being deliberately slow because I had seen him move. He wasn’t doing badly at all considering the short amount of time he had had to get used to getting around on crutches. Finally, I heard the click of the lock and pressed my ear against the bedroom door.

  “What the devil do you think you’re doing?” Jackson Cruz wasted no time greeting his son with pleasantries.

  “I was under the impression that I was staying in a private room at a hotel. Unannounced visitors at the crack of dawn were not part of my plan, though. Good to see you, too, Dad. How’ve you been?”

  “When I went to the hospital yesterday I was told that you had simply left. And it took me a couple of hours to even get that much out of them.”

  “That’s because I specifically excluded you from the ‘need to know list’. They weren’t obligated to tell you a thing.”

  “Nurse Collins said you didn’t even sign the AMA papers first.”

  “Ah, Nurse Collins. An angel of mercy if there ever was one. You probably got along well with her. What’s an AMA?”

  “It means you left ‘against medical advice’. They would like you to return and sign it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it serves to absolve them of liability.”

  “Fat chance. So how did you find me and, more to the point, what the hell do you want?”

  “I found you because I am persistent. It took most of the night to find the hotel you checked into. The first place I looked was El Loco, of course.”

  “Of course.”

  “I have to commend your ex-captain on his loyalty. Misplaced, but all the same an admirable quality.”

  “What do you mean my ‘ex-captain’?”

  “I relieved Stephen of his duties.”

  “If you want me to keep looking after your expensive toy, you’d better rethink that.”

  Then there was a moment when I couldn’t hear anything except maybe some movement. “Quite the luxury hotel you’ve chosen here. It has a lovely view.”

  “It’s clean, comfortable and near the boat. Don’t change the subject. If you expect me to set foot on that bucket again, Stephen better be on it.”

  “You’re in no position to threaten me. Frankly I’m not sure I do expect you to get back on that boat.”

  “What do you want from me? What’s the point of tracking me down like this?”

  “You’re my only son. You were gravely injured in the course of, I was told, coming to London to see me. Correct me if I’m wrong.”

  “No, you’re right. I was on my way to see you.”

  “And you were seriously injured?”

  “Yes, I suppose it was serious.”

  “According to your wharf floozy it was quite serious.”

  “Don’t go there, Dad. Do. Not. Go. There.” I could hear the change in Dylan’s tone. He went from irritated to dangerously angry. .

  “Anyway, I can’t be blamed for being both curious and concerned.”

  “I’ll buy the curious. But concerned. Not likely.”

  “Why did you come, Dylan?”

  “This really isn’t a suitable time.”

  “Oh? Why don’t you pick a time then? One that’s more ‘suitable’ given the circumstances and your delicate condition.” Jackson’s voice was laced with poisonous sarcasm. I could feel my hate for him radiating out and hoped he would sense it through the closed door. What an absolute ass.

  “Three days. Your office. What time?”

  “Just drop by any time. You’re always welcome.”

  “Bullshit. I am never welcome. Give me a time, Dad. I don’t want to be stuck waiting for hours because you’ve been ‘called into a meeting’.”

  “Let’s say Wednesday at noon. We’ll do lunch.”

  “No. No lunch. I want to talk to you in your office. No small talk, no glass of wine to hide behind. Just you and me.”

  “Man to . . . man?” I wanted to pounce through the door and slap his father’s face or maybe spit on him. He managed to pack the word man with pure venom. Dylan had good reason to hate him. I sure did.

  “I’ll be there at ten.” I heard the thunk-thunk of the crutches as Dylan worked his way toward the door and the click of the latch as he opened it. “Later, Dad.”

  Jackson Cruz left without another word.

  There was no point in pretending that I hadn’t been standing with my ear pressed up against the door, straining to hear every word. I didn’t even attempt to sit down and try to make it look like I was perusing the room service menu. So, Dylan found me sitting at the foot of the bed, just waiting, when he opened the door.

  “It’s safe to come out now.” He smiled, but it was a non-smile.

  I walked past him into the living area and perched on the edge of the couch. He lowered himself gingerly down beside, shook his head and sighed.

  “I’m sorry, Dylan.”

  “You’ve got nothing to be sorry about.”

  “I’m sorry your father is such a complete jerk. I don’t know what has or hasn’t happened between the two of you, but it doesn’t take a doctorate in psychology to figure out your relationship has some major issues.”

  “Yes, you’re right. Our relationship does have major issues. As a matter of fact, my paternal bond is about as dysfunctional as it gets. It always has been.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much I can do about that, but I’d love to hear the story.”

  “I didn’t realize you were into horror. You strike me as a rom-com type of chick.”

  “It might help me to understand you better.”

  “Is that something you want to do? Understand me?”

  “Of course it is! Why would you even ask me such a thing?”

  “I guess because so few people have ever tried or even expressed a desire to do that. Dawn was too young to put our situation into words. Certainly I’ve never let a woman close enough to touch the scabs. My fault, entirely.”
<
br />   “Stephen?”

  “Men don’t ‘understand’ one another. At least not dudes like Stephen and me.”

  “I heard what your father said about firing him.”

  “We’ll see about that. Stephen isn’t going anywhere until I duke it out with the old man. If it goes badly, the ‘team’ sinks together.”

  “Am I part of the ‘team’?”

  “Of course. I’m sure you heard the crack about the ‘wharf floozy’. It's been a while since I heard that word," he laughed. "If I lose my gig on El Loco, so do you I’m afraid.”

  “I wouldn’t work on that barge for your father under any circumstances.” I took his hand in both of mine. “I’m ready to listen.” I was ready, but I was also afraid. My experience didn’t include the kind of awful that I saw between the two men. It was frightening to consider the kind of damage that could do to Dylan’s head.

  “I want to get out of here first. I want to be back on board. I want to see Lady D. and the only real home I’ve got. If I’m going to spill my guts, I don’t want it to be all over a hotel carpet.”

  “But you said the El Loco was too hard for you to get around on.”

  “That was a lie. I had hoped to avoid ‘The Dad’ until I felt better. I knew he’d track me down on El Loco. I underestimated the old man. He missed his calling. Should have been a private eye.”

  “You know, you actually do seem to be feeling pretty good. At least you felt good to me last night.” I hoped reminding him of happy things would ease the moment. I was rewarded with a small but genuine smile.

  “Thanks.” He got up from the couch. I was taken with the way he seemed to grow stronger with every move he made. “Go check us out of this dump. I’ll be down in a sec.”

  Chapter 30—Dylan

  The first thing I did when I got back on board was visit Lady Delaney. The poor little thing was a pitiful, quivering mass of excitement when she saw it was me who opened her door. She laid a monkey guilt trip on me big time. The tiny hands examined my head and my face as if to say “I haven’t seen you in so long I have to learn you all over again.”