His Last Defense

by Karen Rock

  He angled his handsome head and peered down at her. “How many have you got?”

  “Lots,” she said breezily, stepping down the gangway. Dylan caught up to her in three strides. He cupped her elbow to steer her past a man wheeling a stack of bait and she jerked away, the feel of his touch lingering. If anything, it spread, permeating her coat’s fleece as if it wasn’t even there and triggering every last one of her body’s responses.

  “So—what—ten?” he asked. A brief silence when she didn’t respond. “Five?”

  She slid him a sideways glance. Dylan. Good looks and brains. He never missed a damn thing.

  “Three,” she admitted, keeping her face expressionless in her best imitation of her mother. If only she felt this serene.

  “Three?” Dylan exclaimed. He whistled. “We’ll be lucky if they know how to swim.”

  When they reached the wooden steps to The Outboard, he snatched open the door before she reached the handle and ushered her inside. “They better be good.” That husky rumble in her ear made her shiver in awareness.

  “I’ll let you know,” she said as coolly as possible given the feverish state his proximity had put her in. There was something about the man that made her brain go haywire, made her lose her hard-won calm, cool and collected outer shell.

  “No need.” Dylan grabbed a seat at the only empty table in the bustling establishment. At the bar, hunched fishermen swapped tales and gobbled down the Friday-night fish fry with greasy fingers. A mic squealed over the speakers as a four-man band set up in the corner. The humid air swarmed with the stale smell of sweat and beer and cigarettes. “I’m staying for the show.”

  She crossed her arms and tried not to let that striking face of his disarm her. “I’ve got this.”

  He nudged a chair from the table toward her with the steel toe of his work boot. “I don’t doubt it. Especially since, with three applicants and four openings, you’re not in a position to say no.”

  “You’re not going anywhere, are you?”

  “Naaahh,” he drawled, the corners of that sexy mouth curving up in a devilish way that made her want to laugh or kiss him or both. She licked her lips. Probably both. “Not for the next three weeks, anyway,” he added.

  She startled. “What do you mean?”

  “Consider me your fourth applicant.”

  Her gaze drifted to that sexy grin of his that wouldn’t quit. “And what position do you want?”

  His eyebrow quirked. “Good question. Might be hard to choose.” He stared up at her with a heat that had her knees melting out from under her. “But for now, let’s start with deck boss. Everett’s working with Captain Bill. None of the applicants will have that level of experience. Someone has to train the newbies.”

  “You said taking the Pacific Dawn out was dangerous. Foolish,” she hedged.

  “It is. Which is why you need me.”

  She did need him, damn it. As much as she wanted to flat out refuse him, she couldn’t. And deep down, after spending this time with Dylan, she had to admit she wanted to see as much of him as possible before he left Kodiak again.

  She opened her mouth and closed it, struggling to articulate her snarled thoughts.

  “I believe a Thank-you, or a You’re hired, will work.”

  “You really are annoying.” Damn, he was gorgeous, with that pirate smile and those gleaming emerald eyes. That unforgettable face that sent her heart rate skittering.

  “One of my best qualities.”

  “Fine. You’re hired,” she barked, dredging up her best captain’s voice in an effort to sound more commanding. In control. Of course, it only made his grin broaden into a full-on smirk. Infuriating man. How would she ever manage him? Manage the strong attraction pounding through her? “But not a word while I’m interviewing.”

  “Aye-aye.” He rose to his great height and snapped off a precise military salute, his eyes twinkling roguishly. His tall, angular silhouette made her breath catch, his frame so strong and dominant. Yep. He was getting to her again. Shoot.

  Now they’d be stuck on board together. Bumping into each other at every turn...how would she resist him?

  She growled in frustration and flung herself down in the worn wooden seat.

  “Two Jim Beams,” he ordered when a waitress paused at their table. She blinked into his mischievous face, that slayer smile of his doing its work again, the woman rendered speechless.

  “Straight,” Nolee added, her voice a little strident. Dylan raised an eyebrow at her, looking amused, and the waitress jerked into action, whisking off a couple of beer bottles and plunking down a basket of peanuts before she hustled away with their order.

  “Jealous?”

  “Please,” she scoffed, shelling a peanut and tossing the meat into her mouth, her narrowed eyes on their waitress, who now giggled with another server by the bar, looking their way. She wondered about how many women Dylan had been with since he’d left Kodiak and a spike of undeniable jealousy pierced her. Damn that swimmer. They’d been each other’s first and since him, no one else had come close to turning her body to dust the way he had. She’d been relieved that he’d halted things in the truck. Now she wondered if it would be so wrong to bed him before he left? If she kept her heart out of it...

  The door opened slightly and a small, twenty-something-year-old slid inside the bar, his movements ginger, his shoulders forward and diffident.

  He had a hardcover book tucked under one arm of his tweed peacoat, which would have fit better on some Ivy League campus than in this rough-and-tumble dive bar. From his spotless wool cap to his polished dress shoes, he screamed outsider...not a status that went over so well at The Outboard.

  When he accidentally bumped into a man at a pool table, the group paused in their game, lifting their heads one by one like a pack of hyenas scenting a lone baby gazelle. They quickly surrounded the outsider, who swiveled his head from one to the other, his pronounced Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “Hey. What have we here...” rasped one with a belly three times bigger than his small, close-shaved head. The bar had fallen silent as most of the patrons quieted and gawked at the developing spectacle.

  Nolee noticed an intent Dylan out of the corner of her eye. His fingers dug into the edge of the table and he perched on the end of his chair, poised to leap into action. His lips were pressed into a grim line, his features hard. She recognized that I’m-going-to-kick-your-ass tough-guy expression, and a sense of comradeship began to build. They’d never shied away from bar brawls to defend themselves when they’d been the newbies on the fishing scene, and had looked out for others when they could. She exchanged a swift glance with Dylan and nodded. Some things never changed.

  “If you’re looking for the library, this ain’t it.” One of the men guffawed, pointing at the book.

  “Thanks for that incredibly valuable advice,” the man said in a crisp accent. “If you’ll excuse me...”

  His step forward was blocked when a third man pushed in front of him wearing a shark’s smile. “Are you making fun of us, fancy pants?”

  “Not at all. I hardly believe you’d be capable of understanding my humor, let alone be offended by it.”

  There was the briefest silence, then an outburst of catcalling and whistling from the bar crowd. Nolee’s mouth dropped open. Had she just heard him right...and did he have a death wish?

  Dylan’s mouth quirked.

  “Huh?” exclaimed the bald sailor, looking at his befuddled buddies’ faces as they shifted from one foot to the other, scratching heads of hair still stiff with salt water.

  “Now. Step aside.”

  “Not so fast.” One of the men, a former classmate of Nolee and Dylan’s named Ted, shoved the book from under the newcomer’s arm. It landed on the wet floor with a thunk. “Ya dropped something.”

&
nbsp; Dylan’s chair scraped back and he propelled himself toward the group, Nolee fast on his heels.

  Go time.

  “Pick up the book, Ted,” Dylan growled. The bristling sailor stepped back, alarmed eyes rising to meet Dylan’s.

  “Now!” barked Nolee. Her hard gaze met Dylan’s and something warm exploded in her chest at his firm, approving nod.

  “Oh. Uh. Sure,” Ted stammered. When he swooped down to grab it, the stranger’s foot pinned Ted’s hand to the ground.

  Nolee gaped as Ted tried and failed to jerk it free. “Come on, man. Let me up.”

  The other guys exchanged swift looks but didn’t come to their buddy’s aid.

  “I believe you should apologize,” observed the stranger coolly, sounding serene. Unruffled.

  “Seriously?” Ted gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “Fine. I’m sorry.”

  “I don’t believe I heard that...”

  “I’m sorry!” Ted hollered.

  “Well. No need to shout,” drawled the daring man.

  The bar erupted in laughter and Dylan quickly steered the stranger to their table.

  “Thanks for that,” he said, sweeping off his hat to reveal a shocking mass of red frizz. “Wesley Cornelius Pryce.” He thrust a hand in their direction and Nolee shook it, her body going still as recognition of the name swept through her.

  “I’m looking for Captain Arnauyq.”

  Dylan angled his head, shot Nolee a sidelong glance and asked, “Why’s that?”

  “I believe she’s seeking an engineer.”

  7

  “THANKS, BUD,” DYLAN said to the bartender a few hours later, pocketing the keys he’d accidentally left behind. After walking Nolee back to her apartment, he’d realized they were missing and returned to The Outboard, where only a few diehards remained. The loss turned out to be a lucky break, considering how sorely tempted he’d been to kiss Nolee senseless at the door and carry her upstairs to satisfy the need that’d drummed through him all night.

  He considered himself damn near a saint for keeping his thoughts to himself and heading back to the bar.

  The way she’d handled herself today, working with her crew, then here in the bar—she had a body that would catch any guy’s eye and serious guts to tough it out in a man’s world. And the way she’d been looking at him tonight...she’d had him ready to back her into the nearest dark corner.

  “Holt?”

  Dylan swung around and pulled up short. Craig Winters. The last person he’d wanted to see in Kodiak besides his folks. The warm flirtation he’d had going on with Nolee all night dissolved as the memory of Craig kissing her rose hard and dark in his mind.

  “Thought that was you. Don’t know anyone else that size who doesn’t play pro ball. How are you, buddy? Let me buy you a beer?” Craig leaned over too far on the brass-rimmed bar and toppled sideways.

  Dylan caught him and helped the stumbling man back up, then shoved his balled fists into his pockets to stop himself from swinging them. That stuff should all be water under the bridge...especially since it was pretty clear Craig and Nolee must not be dating anymore.

  “Later, Winters.”

  “Hold up! I’m leaving, too,” huffed Craig. A hectic shade of red flamed his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

  Dylan swore under his breath. “You’re not driving.”

  “How else am I getting back to my hotel? Wife kicked me out last night.” His eyes grew wet, and he snuffled loudly.

  “Coffee,” Dylan called to the bartender wearily, holding up two fingers. “Black.” Much as he hated the guy, he couldn’t turn his back on him. He waited for Craig to seat himself. It took a couple of tries.

  “So. I heard you and Nolee are working together, eh?” Craig asked. The bartender returned with two steaming mugs.

  “Drink your coffee, Craig.”

  “Right. Sure.” He slurped down a mouthful then coughed, waving a hand in front of his face. “Oh. Hot. Anyways. Heard about you and Nolee. Back together again. Never thought you two should’ve broken up.”

  “No?” Dylan loomed closer and Craig angled back, nearly toppling off his stool again. “You had a damn funny way of showing it.”

  “Hey. That was my bad. Should never have kissed her like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “By surprise. Uninvited.”

  Shock socked Dylan straight in the jaw. He rubbed it, his mind reeling.

  “She never wanted anything to do with me then, and she’s avoided me ever since.”

  Nolee’s words returned to him. She’d accused him of not knowing her. Regret raged through him, dark and swift. She was right. He hadn’t understood a damn thing.

  “Look. I should’ve contacted you to clear things up. But you were so mad... And then you left town, and—anyway, no excuses. You deserved an explanation. I was a coward.”

  “Yeah,” Dylan murmured, mind racing. So Nolee hadn’t kissed Craig on purpose. The realization that he’d been wrong all this time about Nolee betraying him swamped him. Why didn’t she tell him? Why the hell had she not set him straight?

  After telling the bartender to call Craig a cab, he headed for the door.

  Only one way to find out.

  Ten minutes later, Dylan laid on the doorbell to Nolee’s apartment a second time. Then a third. Finally, he heard her footsteps tramping down the staircase from her above-garage apartment.

  When she flung open the ground-level door, his body went rigid at the sight of her. Heavy lids drooped over liquid brown eyes. Sleep-messed hair tangled around her beautiful, flushed face. He could no more keep his eyes from roaming down the length of her than he could stop his next breath.

  A chill wind swirled around them and molded the worn material of her hip-length T-shirt to her curves, revealing the jut of her nipples and the dark circle of her areolas. He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep from reaching for her right there in the open doorway, his blood firing.

  “Dylan?”

  “We need to talk.” His voice, when it emerged, sounded thick and rough, edged with the hunger blooming in his gut.

  “Can’t it wait?” She angled her head and her hair slipped over her shoulder and down her back, revealing smooth golden flesh where the cutout collar had slipped. He swallowed hard and cursed himself for coming here on impulse. He should have approached her on the boat, surrounded by crew, loud machinery, things to distract him from the greedy want that seized him.

  “Not any longer,” he insisted, his words stumbling over his swelling tongue. “I just ran into Craig. The guy you let me think you kissed. I need to know what really happened, Nolee.”

  The color drained from her face, and her mouth opened and closed. “Come in,” she breathed after a moment, then turned and led him up the stairs.

  Her ass cheeks, firm and round, bounced beneath the rising hem of her shirt with each step, and he felt himself grow even more aroused. His groin tightened and he sucked in a harsh breath at the jet wash of desire flooding him.

  Concentrate, Holt. Time to get some answers. If he’d known the truth about that kiss, how different his life would be. He’d never have left Nolee. Or Kodiak.

  The words shuffled then repeated in his brain.

  You never would have left Kodiak.

  Before he could fully process the thought, her fingers twined with his. She led him across the threshold into an unlit space and stopped in front of a large bed covered in a shoved-back quilt and patterned pillows. It dominated a cluttered single room furnished with an armchair in the corner, heaped with books, and a television atop a tall wooden bureau. A glow from the holiday lights on the house across the street streamed in a nearby window, washing the area in tones of muted color. He glimpsed a small galley kitchen at the far end
and a digital clock on the microwave read two.

  A rising storm rattled the windowpanes. White curtains of sleet began to fall. In the distance, a foghorn wailed as it sent fingers of light groping across the harbor. A sand truck ground past in the wet dark.

  He dropped Nolee’s hand and stepped back, needing to get his bearings. The warmth of her body made him breathe sharply. Her fragrance was exactly the same as he remembered. A heady mix of fresh sea air, salt-scrubbed skin, floral and musk. He gritted his teeth. Clamped down his rising desire.

  Focus on your mission.

  Compartmentalize.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth about Craig?”

  She drew in a deep breath. Dylan’s eyes fixated on the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the thin material of her nightshirt. He wanted to lean down and pull that teasing nipple into his mouth but kept himself in check. Barely.

  “Let me take your coat,” she deflected, drawing close.

  Heat blasted through him as she reached out her hands, fumbling with the zipper of his jacket before she eased it down a few inches, just enough to expose his chest.

  A growling sigh wrenched up his throat at the feel of her fingers spread across his shirt. The look she sent him as she lowered the rest of his zipper seared across him like a sunburn. He shrugged out of the jacket and let it drop to the hardwood floor. It took everything in him to keep from stripping off the rest of his clothes. And hers.

  “Tell me what happened,” he said, forcing the words past the desire clogging his throat. The nearness of her soft body captivated him, rooting him to the floor so that he couldn’t walk away even if he wanted to.

  Nolee’s hand landed on his chest again, inflaming his desire, which was already riding the slippery edge of control. “There isn’t anything more to tell,” she said. Her fingertips grazed his abs. Their featherweight touch caused his skin to tighten as his muscles tensed. If she was trying to distract him, it was working, damn it.

  Why was she dodging his questions?

  What was she hiding?