Between the Sheets

by P. J. Mellor

  She now noticed he wore two tanks. Obviously his prompt at the wreck had been for her sake. While she was thankful, it rankled to realize she’d let time get away from her like that. After all, she was not a novice.

  “Where’s yours?” he shouted across the water.

  It took a second to locate the yacht. She pointed to it, about five hundred yards away from the dive site.

  He allowed the water to bring him closer, his deep tan setting off the Caribbean blue of his eyes. “Is there a Mr. Beth on that thing who might feed me to the sharks if I asked you to have a drink with me?”

  She smirked. “Are you carrying a flask, Will?”

  “Okay, you twisted my arm. I’ll have a drink with you.” He winked. “But the next time is on me.”

  She smiled as they made their way to Salsa Time.

  Once on deck, they dropped their gear. Beth handed Will a towel from the supply chest as she toweled her hair.

  “Dive much?” Will tossed his towel into the bin she’d indicated.

  “Every chance I get, for the last fifteen years.” She grinned back as him. “I was a Dolphin then a Junior-certified rec diver before I became an instructor.”

  He nodded, then fixed her with a hard stare, surprising her. “Then you, of all people, should know better than to dive alone.”

  “Me? You were down there by yourself, too. At least I had the sense to use a buoy.”

  “Mine was there when I went down,” he shot back. “Besides, I live here. I’ve logged hundreds if not thousands of hours in these waters. My heart about stopped when I saw your shapely behind bobbing at the bow of that boat.”

  He saw that? “How long were you watching me before you acknowledged me?”

  “Long enough.” He glanced around. “And now,” he said, advancing on her, “here we are, alone, on your fancy boat.” He tsked. “You believe in taking risks, don’t you? Or do you enjoy living dangerously?”

  2

  Beth swallowed, fighting the urge to take a step back. Although his words scared the bejesus out of her, a second look in his blue eyes told her he wanted to scare her. She also knew desire when she saw it.

  With his fit body and golden tan, he could easily inspire the female equivalent of a wet dream.

  She knew she’d been isolated too long from eligible members of the opposite sex, but the idea of the specimen before her finding her attractive shot a thrill through her.

  Not that she would encourage him or even consider getting involved with someone when she would be leaving in three days.

  Still, the look in his eyes was flattering. Which was why she decided to ignore his insult regarding her actions and offer him a drink.

  Smiling sweetly, she walked toward the bar as she asked, “What would you like to drink? I make a mean margarita and more than adequate daiquiris. There are also bottles of single-serving wine and just about every kind of beer in the cooler. Feel free to help yourself.”

  Feeling smug, she poured a generous amount of Cuervo Gold into the margarita maker and reached for the heavy bottle of mixer.

  Will watched the play of pectoral muscle over the skimpy cup of Beth’s bikini. He’d prefer to drink his margarita from her hot little body. He reeled in his libido. Visitors were off limits. He’d have a drink to be sociable and then be on his way, even if it meant swimming back to Crystal Key.

  “Iced tea sounds good. Got any of that?” He swallowed a laugh at the shocked look on her sun-kissed face. Did she think he’d get liquored up and have his way with her?

  Though appealing, it wasn’t bloody likely.

  Closing her mouth, she nodded. “Sweet and unsweet, bottles and cans. Also in the fridge. Fresh lemon, lime, and orange wedges are in the plastic container on the top shelf.” She reached beneath the bar and handed him a tall glass. “The ice maker is to the right of the beverage cooler.”

  He popped the top of an unsweet tea and poured it into the ice-filled glass. A wedge of orange followed. He grinned, his white teeth flashing. “All the comforts of home.” He took a long swig and sighed.

  Great. He probably thought she was an alcoholic. She jabbed the power button. The margarita machine did its thing, its whirring drowning out any possible conversation. Pausing it, she added a ladle of strawberries in heavy syrup. The blending resumed as she glanced at her guest while she rimmed her glass with sugar, then poured her concoction.

  He waited until she sat before choosing a seat on the opposite end of the padded bench. “Nice,” he said, indicating the yacht with a wave of his glass. “Is this yours?”

  What the heck? “Sure.” She shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “Why else would I be on board?”

  He nodded and took another long drink. “Where are the staff and crew?”

  “Below.”

  “Bullshit.” At her widened eyes, he said, “I may not move in the same circles as you, but I know a boat this size has staff and crew, and someone would have greeted us if they’d been aboard.”

  Licking the sugar from the rim of her glass bought a few seconds for her to formulate her story. “Fine. The truth is they all have the day off. We just met; I wasn’t sure I wanted you to know we were alone.” Catching what she’d just admitted, she hurried on. “But they’ll be back any time, so don’t get any ideas.”

  His heated gaze licked her from her toes to her hip. Funny, she never felt exposed in a bikini before she met him.

  She blinked and he was sitting closer. A lot closer, the heat of his hip against hers informed her.

  “Do you just cruise around all summer?”

  Hastily swallowing her mouthful of margarita, she had to push her tongue into the roof of her mouth to stop the brain freeze. “Um, I guess. Well, when I don’t have classes. I’m a senior at Texas.”

  He frowned. “And you already own a yacht? Or does it belong to your family? How old are you?”

  “Twenty-four.” She ignored the yacht question, preferring to lie as little as possible. “I took a couple of years off to travel before I went to college, if you’re wondering.”

  “That’s good.” He leaned closer, pinning her against the back cushion.

  “W-why?” Dang, he was hot. If he didn’t back off soon, she didn’t want to think about what she might be capable of doing, after being out to sea for so long.

  “Because,” he said, his breath hot against her lips, “I don’t want to kiss jailbait.”

  She squeaked when his mouth covered hers, shocked at the sensation zipping through her sex-deprived body when their lips touched.

  Then his tongue slid between her lips to sweep her mouth, marauding her senses.

  Deep within, a dam burst. She pulled him closer, one hand holding his head while the other gripped his back, holding him tight.

  He wasn’t exactly fighting her off.

  In a flash, her bikini top hit the area rug, his hot hands wedging up to cup and squeeze her bare breasts.

  More. She squirmed against his hardness until she sat on his lap, her legs wrapped securely around his waist. Her hips bucked of their own volition, the feel of his hard ridge against her aching folds feeling so good it almost made her climax.

  She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had sex, didn’t want to try. Right now, her main concern was ending her dry spell.

  It didn’t matter that he thought she owned the yacht. It didn’t matter that they’d just met. It didn’t matter if they were alone and he could potentially do whatever he chose without fear of being caught. It was a two-way street, and right now, she had some pretty definite ideas about what she would like to do to him.

  He tore his mouth from hers and tried to speak, but she shoved him downward until her breast filled his mouth, groaning and writhing with each strong draw of his mouth.

  Bending her back over his arm, he continued his assault on her breasts, his hips thrusting and grinding against her softness.

  Was this considered dry humping? She was far from dry. Whatever it was, she liked it. She want
ed more.

  When she pulled away from his mouth and sat up, rising on her knees to reach down and tug his suit from his lean hips, his hands on her wrists stopped her.

  “We can’t,” he said, panting the words.

  Shameless, she brushed her erect nipples across his chest, her hips grinding her aching folds against his covered erection. “Sure we can,” she whispered back, reaching for his elastic waistband.

  He shuddered, took a deep breath, and looked her in the eyes. “No. We can’t. I have a policy. A strict policy about tourists.”

  “What policy is that?” She trailed nibbling kisses up his neck, then sucked his earlobe.

  He groaned and broke contact. “A no-fuck policy.”

  3

  Humiliation seared her cheeks. Stumbling from his lap, she groped for her top, too embarrassed to look at him. “We wouldn’t want to compromise your policy, would we?”

  “Beth, I…” He reached for her, but she shoved him aside while she pulled on her top. “Beth—”

  “Stop. Whatever it is you’re going to say, I don’t want to hear it.” Standing, she looked out the window at the water, blinking back embarrassed tears. “Your gear is by the ladder. Don’t forget to grab it when you leave.”

  “Let me make it up to you,” he said from behind her.

  She whirled on him. “Make it up to me? Why would you want to do that?” Her eyes widened. “A pity fuck? Oh, hell, no! I’m not that desperate! Get out.”

  He glanced at his watch. “My boat will be back soon, but I don’t want to leave you like this. You took what I said wrong or I didn’t say it right. Although fucking of any kind, with you, would not be a hardship,” he said with a grin. “I meant, let me make it up to you by taking you to dinner. How about it? You have to eat,” he reminded her. “I know a great place on the beach. I could be back to pick you up in a couple of hours. What do you say?” He leaned closer and whispered, “Say yes.”

  Her hurt and outrage deflated. What the heck? He was right; she did have to eat. And since saying she was no cook was putting it mildly, dinner out was probably a good idea. But she didn’t want to give in too easily. After all, the guy had turned her down when she’d been almost naked and begging. “All right. Fine. But don’t pick me up. I’ll meet you there.” She snatched a pad and pen from the drawer by the door, pushing it at him. “Write down where and when. And directions. Please.”

  His lips twitched, but he took the pad and wrote down directions, then handed it back. “See you in a couple of hours,” he said, brushing a light kiss on her forehead as he walked toward the deck.

  A splash soon followed.

  She glanced down at the pad. “Nick’s Seafood and Beach Bar. I like seafood.” Her reflection in the salon mirror made her gasp. She had a lot of work to do before she met her date if she had any hope of being presentable.

  Gathering her clothing, she moved into the master stateroom, justifying it by the fact that it had a bigger bathroom and was the only one with a tub. After all, what difference did it make? She would be the only one on board for the next three days. She may as well make the most of it and be comfortable.

  While the big bathtub was filling, she retrieved the pitcher of margaritas and her glass. Naked, she was padding to the oval tub, glass in hand, when she spotted several vials on a little mirror tray next to the tub.

  “Gardenia,” she read, then removed the stopper and took a big whiff. “Oh, yeah, I’ll take some of that.” But the little bottle was slick, slipping from her grasp when she began pouring the oil. “Crap!” Hanging on to the side of the tub, she fished out the near-empty bottle while the heady scent of fresh gardenias permeated the air.

  Her nose immediately started running, and her eyes burned. “Whoa, that’s some heavy-duty gardenia.” She coughed as she lowered into the hot, fragrant water. A push of the button to activate the jets caused the floral scent to explode into the room, all but choking her with its cloying sweetness.

  “Oh, Lord,” she wheezed, “I’m being asphyxiated, death by gardenia!” Running more water only aggravated the problem.

  Funny, she’d always envisioned the romantic ambience of taking a whirlpool bath, soaking in elegant perfumed water, surrounded by candles.

  Reality was much different, and she had a feeling if she dared light a candle, the fumes would ignite.

  Eyes and nose streaming, she finished her bath in record time and flipped the drain, all but sprinting from the room, wrapped in a bath sheet.

  Bath sheets were another luxury she’d looked forward to experiencing. The reality…not so much, since she was too short and kept tripping over the towel.

  Flopping onto the bare mattress of the king-size bed, she enjoyed the soft breeze of the ceiling fan, hoping it would dissipate some of the gardenia scent clinging to her skin.

  Restless again, she searched until she found the Egyptian cotton sheets and made the bed. She’d just finished smoothing the quilted silk bedspread when she looked at the tiny brass clock on the nightstand.

  “Oh, no! That can’t be right!” Rushing to her pile of clothes, she dug until she found her watch. Crap. It was the right time. She sniffed her gardenia-scented arm and coughed. No time to try showering it off.

  A little gel worked into her short brown hair, tinted moisturizer, a swipe of mascara and blush were all done at land-speed-record time. A quick floss and brushing of her teeth, tinted ChapStick application, along with a swipe of antiperspirant and she was ready to shimmy into her sundress.

  Heels or no heels? She was taking the dinghy. Climbing in and out would be easier without heels. Rubber flip-flops wouldn’t do, though, so she dug in her bag until she found some that looked a little less…flip-floppy.

  She did a quick turn in the three-way mirror in the dressing area, deciding she cleaned up pretty well. Scooping up her clothes, she stuffed them in the tall wicker hamper in the bathroom, then glanced at the neatly made bed.

  Why had she made the bed? She planned to sleep there, but did she plan to do something else there if the evening went well? Maybe…

  “Ugh. Get it out of your head. Will is probably not nearly as sexy as you thought he was this afternoon. You were just lonely. It’s a common occurrence in situations like this, I’m sure.” Stuffing her license and debit card in her purse, she headed for the door, determined to keep her cool and have a nice evening, regardless of how it ended.

  And determined to ignore the little voice telling her she was still lonely.

  4

  Will arrived early at his restaurant, Nick’s, to apprise the staff of his date. Maybe it was wrong, but he ordered everyone to keep mum about his ownership.

  He’d done well, parlaying his modest inheritance to buy and expand Nick’s restaurant and bar into the wildly profitable business it was, but he didn’t spread news of his success around. Success that had enabled him to fulfill a lifelong dream: opening a dive shop.

  King’s Diving Castle was not only successful, but it was also the only dive shop on Crystal Key. Popular among residents and tourists alike, business was flourishing. And, thanks to his expert staff, he was able to spend more time doing the thing he loved most: diving.

  But, despite his success, he knew it was small potatoes compared to the things Beth must be surrounded with every day.

  And when Will King couldn’t compete, he didn’t play the game.

  Which was the real reason he’d left Beth half naked on the yacht instead of satisfying them both. Okay, that may not have been a particularly brilliant idea, especially when he’d been regretting it for the last few hours, counting the minutes until he could see her again. Then what? The lady was clearly out of his league. What would she see in a guy whose best outfit was a wet suit?

  But that didn’t keep him from wanting her.

  “Okay,” he said to Korine, his hostess, “remember, tonight I’m just a customer.”

  Korine did an eye-roll. “How will we know which one is your special lady, boss man?” />
  “She’s short.” He held his hand at midchest level. “About this tall. Dark hair—”

  “Cut short? Good tan?” Korine nodded toward the door. “I think she just walked in.”

  He turned and had to catch his breath. His late granddad’s voice echoed in his head: Go get her, boy. She’s the one.

  Beth smiled and made her way toward where he stood, rooted to the floor next to the hostess stand. Her modest, dark, peach-colored sundress set off her tan and seemed to glow in the dim lights of the bar. Or maybe it was the woman wearing it.

  He stepped forward, grasping her arm, and brushed a chaste kiss across her temple. Tiny diamonds sparkled from her earlobes, drawing him like a moth to a flame.

  He could be in deep trouble with this woman.

  He couldn’t wait.

  “How many tonight, sir?” Korine’s voice broke into his trancelike state.

  “What? Oh, um. Two, please.”

  “Your usual table?”

  “I eat here a lot. Alone,” he hurried to say when he saw Beth’s dark eyes widen.

  As his grandfather would say, he saw the devilment in Korine’s eyes as she turned to lead them to the secluded table near the window overlooking the harbor. It was easily the best table in the place, but not his usual. For that he was grateful, since he didn’t think it would make a very good impression to sit in the back, next to the kitchen door. Korine had a wicked sense of humor.

  She returned to the table after they had ordered, a waiter in her wake, carrying a linen-wrapped ice bucket. “Champagne,” she said with a smile, pouring the sparkling rose liquid into crystal flutes. She winked at Will. “Compliments of the management.”

  “Wow.” Beth took a sip. “Yum. What a nice thing for the management to do! Do you know who ordered it? Maybe we could call him over to say thanks.”

  He watched Beth’s mouth caress the edge of the champagne glass and clamped his jaw when his dick twitched in response. “Ah, I don’t see him around,” he finally replied. Of course he wasn’t around; he was playing customer.