by Karen Rock
“Yeah roger, roger.”
Silence descended as she settled the handset back in its cradle. “This morning’s report said the ice was going to be on the 58 line the day after tomorrow.”
“Where are we at right now?” Dylan asked, his voice grave. Heavy.
They studied the updating onscreen map.
“Probably 58-0-3.”
“Shit.” Dylan’s jaw clenched.
“That’s maybe 15–17 miles per hour faster than forecast.” She lifted her hair off the back of her neck, her body clammy despite the frigid air.
Dylan frowned. “This changes everything. We’ve got a hundred and eighty-six pots left out here. The ice pack’s going to cover them.”
He pointed at her plotter, a screen that registered all the markers set and inputted into the system by the fleet. Her lines glowed blue and much farther north than the others, she noticed. “Not only will you lose crab, but you’ll lose pots.”
“Fourteen hundred bucks a pop,” she muttered, her thoughts racing, stumbling over one another before any finished.
Dylan squatted beside her chair. Gathered her hands in his. “Nolee. We’ve got to get out of here.”
“If we had two more days without this ice...” she groaned, her heart aching. Everything—every single thing she’d worked all her life to prove, was slipping out of her grasp.
Should she cut her losses and yank up the crabless tanks or remain and go for it? Ice reports, like storm predictions, had a margin of error.
Not a big one, though...
“But we don’t have two more days. Twelve hours, max.” He pulled her to her feet then turned her toward the windshield.
Outside, a growing number of ice chunks swirled and gathered atop the gray sea. When she shivered, he pulled her back against his muscular length and wrapped his arms around her. “What’s your call going to be?” he murmured, his breath warm in her ear. “Captain.”
The quiet assurance in his voice rattled through her. A seismic shift. Dylan knew she’d do the right thing. And so did she.
She caught a glimpse of her drawn face in an angled side mirror and raised her chin. If she lingered, she risked the ice engulfing her pots, losing money for the company and her chance at ever commanding another ship. Worse. She’d endanger the crew. If she left early, without giving her pots the time they needed to soak and catch crab, she wouldn’t fill her quota.
Staying kept open the possibility of proving herself. Keeping her captain status with Dunham Seafoods.
Leaving meant... It meant that maybe she really didn’t have anything to prove.
She met her eyes in the mirror again. Felt Dylan’s heart drum against her back. Heard the steady rise and fall of his breath as he waited. Believed. Trusted that she wouldn’t let him down.
She wouldn’t let either of them down.
After all, who did she need to prove herself to? Not Dylan. He cared about her just as she was and so should she.
Ultimately, the only person she needed to answer to was the person she faced in the mirror. She pulled down the gooseneck mic and took a deep breath. “Crew. Crew. Crew.”
Dylan ran his hands up and down her arms.
When the group stopped working to listen, she continued, “We just got a new ice report. Just revised. It’s moving a lot faster than they predicted so we’re going to pick up the gear and move off the grounds.”
A round of swearing rose off the deck and she grimaced at the disappointment on their faces. Of course they wanted to make the maximum they could on this haul, but she wouldn’t put their lives in jeopardy. She’d nearly sacrificed herself and the crew on her first boat when she’d played the odds and lost. This trip, this crew and Dylan had taught her so much about evolving, not only as a woman, but as a captain, too.
“We’re going to pick up the rest of this string and stack the pots back up as we go. I repeat. We’re not setting them back. Over.”
“Copy that, Captain!” hollered Stu.
Dylan turned her around in his arms and brushed her hair from her cheeks, his touch gentle, the tender look in his eyes making her heart swell.
“I’m proud of you, Nolee.” At the rich timbre of his voice, she felt her knees wobble, but she kept her back straight.
“So am I.”
After a brief, heart-stopping kiss, he raced back out on deck to coordinate their hasty withdrawal. She closed her eyes for a moment and pictured the thousands of uncaught crab they’d leave behind. Her mother’s admonishment whispered in her ear...the words of her people. Take only what you need. Her lashes rose and she peered down at the vibrant, larger-than-life man who’d rescued her when she hadn’t wanted to be saved.
Who helped her when she’d wanted to go it alone.
Who made her depend on him in a way that made her stronger, she saw now, not weaker.
Why?
Because she loved him.
Always had. Always would.
Whatever the risks, the odds, she’d open herself up, surrender to her feelings and pursue what she needed most of all.
Dylan.
* * *
“LATER, DUDE!”
Dylan returned Tyler’s wave from the dock, clapped Tim on the shoulder, then returned Jo’s bear hug. Out on the horizon, the last of the sunset melted into a puddle of shimmering red-gold ripples atop the calm Bering Sea. The dark silhouette of a freight boat glided past, exhaling a long low note through the chilly air. Overhead, stars glimmered faintly in the purpling sky.
“Can’t say I’ll miss ya,” cackled Flint, extending a hand.
Dylan grasped the older fisherman’s hand and pumped it up and down. “Same,” he agreed, not meaning it at all.
He’d enjoyed this motley crew, he mused, watching Flint and Tim barrel across the gangway to join Tyler and Stu. The group’s full-throated laughter receded as they headed down the dock in the direction of The Outboard. After grueling weeks at sea, they would be eager to cut loose and spend some of their earnings.
The ragtag group had weathered their first opilio season and deserved some R & R.
As did Nolee.
She might not have met her quota, but she’d still done a hell of a job and deserved to celebrate. His groin tightened as he envisioned every decadent way he planned on making tonight special...for both of them.
He’d hardly laid eyes on her over the past couple of days as they’d worked nonstop to beat the ice floe and return safely to port. After grabbing a few hours of shut-eye, they’d offloaded while Nolee met with the distributors. She’d been huddled in the wheelhouse, doling out each fisherman’s take since supper.
The last two hours he’d spent waiting for her had seemed to stretch into days. He’d spent most of it figuring out what he’d say now that the season had ended.
Not goodbye.
He wasn’t ready for that yet.
Wesley appeared on deck, his tweed coat pockets bulging, his smile even bigger. “Solvency, here I come,” he crowed. He slung an arm around a startled-looking Jo and planted one on her.
Her mouth opened and closed like a beached fish when he released her to shake Dylan’s hand. “It’s been a pleasure, sir.”
“Mine, too.”
“I wish this wasn’t goodbye,” Jo said, her eyes glistening.
“Then stick with me, kid.” Wesley waved his fingers beside his mouth like he held an invisible cigar, then looped his arm through Jo’s. “Ready to let me spend some of my ill-gotten gains on you?”
“Only if we go dutch,” she insisted, making them all laugh. Dylan’s smile lingered long after the shadowed dock obscured them from view.
Yes. He’d miss them.
Nolee most of all.
Her maturity in making the tough call to pull up stakes impres
sed the hell out of him. She’d grown from the reckless young woman he’d left in Kodiak to a wise and now seasoned captain. There weren’t many people he’d trust more than Nolee to do what needed to be done out there at sea.
Would she be that careful with his heart if he entrusted it to her again?
He was running out of reasons to believe the answer would be no.
She was competent, focused, brave—everything.
Everything to him.
“Still here?”
He whirled at the soft voice behind him.
Nolee.
In the twilight, her skin glowed iridescent and smooth. Her eyes sparkled as bright as the growing starlight. And her lips. Suddenly he couldn’t drag his eyes off their full shape. When her tongue darted out to lick her bottom lip, he nearly groaned out loud.
How he wanted her. Loved her, too, he realized.
But would it be enough?
For either of them?
Tomorrow, he reported back to base and resumed his military life. The old thrill of unknown adventures fizzled flat in his skull. For the first time in years, he wanted to plant himself in one spot. With one person.
Nolee.
He didn’t want to let her go yet, damn it.
“I’m not ready for our time together to end,” he said, settling his hands on her waist.
She went still and he found himself holding his breath, warring emotions erupting with what he wanted to hear and what he was afraid she would say.
“I’m not, either,” she admitted finally, the lapels of her jacket parting as she lifted her hands to rest on his chest. The clean scent of wildflowers drifted up from her skin, light and delicate. “In fact, I have some ideas...”
Thank You, God. Relief kicked through him with surprising force.
He caught her hand in his and nearly yanked her off her feet as he hustled her back to the now-empty pilothouse.
“So do I.” His voice had deepened and grown rough, edgy with the primal, animalistic need she aroused in him.
Control, Holt, he ordered himself.
Tonight had to be memorable. Savored. One neither of them would ever forget.
She disappeared toward her stateroom while he grabbed the bottle of champagne he’d stashed in the fridge the last time they’d been in port, along with a couple of mismatched jelly glasses, then raced up the stairs two at a time.
He jerked to a halt at her doorway and blinked.
Nolee lounged on her bed. She’d shed her raingear and the white tank top and fitted jeans she wore revealed lush curves. Anticipation churned inside Dylan. The sight of her was enough to make a grown man weep in appreciation.
With her dark hair tumbling helter-skelter around her smooth shoulders, her glowing face makeup-free, her lips natural and full, she was beautiful and sexy without even trying. It did him in.
Then he looked into her eyes and his body hardened to instant attention at the heat simmering in their chocolate-brown depths. She didn’t need to put much effort into seducing him—she could accomplish the task with a mere look. A lone touch. A single word. A fleeting smile.
Need, sharp and edgy, scraped through him, overwhelming him with the desire to yank her into his arms and spend the next several hours blocking out the last few stressful weeks, specifically the last few stressful hours. All he wanted to do was drown in her.
Control, Holt.
Get your bearings.
He forced himself to sit on the edge of the bed and peel the foil from the bottle top with shaking hands.
“What’s that?”
She circled her arms around his neck and her breasts flattened against his back.
The cork popped in his hand and the fruity-sweet fizz tickled his nose. “A toast,” he said in a hoarse voice, then poured the first glass.
She pressed light feathery kisses down one side of his neck and the fire inside him leaped higher. Hotter.
“What are we toasting?” she breathed in his ear before capturing the lobe and running her tongue along the sensitive shape.
His breathing quickened. Grew ragged. The sparkling wine trembled as he stood. He pulled her to her feet and passed her the glass. “Us. You. Me.” He filled another cup then clinked it against hers.
“What does that mean?” she asked, her voice shaky. She stared at him over the rim of her cup as she sipped. The naked vulnerability of her unguarded expression, the hint of hope and trace of fear, seized his heart.
He bolted back his drink, then set it on the shelf behind him. Truth time.
“Since the moment I pulled you off the Pacific Sun, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. I can’t stop imagining how we might be together. God help me, but I won’t let you go this time. I’m yours, Nolee. I don’t know how the hell we’re going to work this out, but I’m not walking away without you. Not running, no matter how hard this might get.”
Her half-empty glass plunged from her fingers onto the floor in a cascade of drops. “I’m not letting you go, either.”
“Damn right,” he growled. Looking at her now, a powerful wave of tenderness flooded him. This woman meant everything to him. And he wanted, needed to show her that, make her understand how perfect they were for each other. How they absolutely, positively belonged to each other. He could make her happy. Fulfill her. He’d give her everything she’d ever had to do without in life and things she’d never even dreamed of.
“Nolee.” Her name sounded like a hoarse rasp, filled with all the love and want and need she inspired. The instant their lips touched, he was lost.
His mouth melded with hers in a deep, hot, wet tongue-mating kiss that hinted at the act his body craved to share with hers. Without breaking the kiss, he steered her backward a few steps to the bed. When her legs hit the mattress, he trailed his lips and tongue down her neck. God, the way she tasted...a heady combination of heat and spice that always left him hungry for more. Shaking with need.
He pulled her tank top over her head. She wasn’t wearing a bra and the sight of her rounded breasts and hard, rosy nipples caused a growl to rumble in his throat.
His lips found hers again briefly before gliding over her delicate collarbone. His hands skimmed down to her jeans, which he quickly unfastened. Bending over her, he lashed at one peak with his tongue, unable to get enough of her, while his hands slipped beneath the waistband of her panties to cup the sweet curve of her ass. Her back arched as she pressed herself closer, unabashedly asking for more. An invitation he was more than ready to accept. He slid one arm around her waist, drawing her hips tight against his.
While his tongue laved her straining breasts, he pushed the denim and her panties over her hips. Licking a trail down the center of her torso, he lowered himself to his knees, bringing her jeans down with him. He helped her step out of her clothes, then looked up the curvy length of her gorgeous body and into her eyes, which glittered with arousal.
Reaching up, he teased her taut nipples, still damp from his mouth. She moaned and sank her fingernails into the tops of his shoulders, arching into his touch. Pressing his face against her belly, he traced the indent of her navel with his tongue. The musk of her arousal invaded his senses, making his head reel and his mouth water for a taste. His hands cruised to her hips and he urged her down until she perched on the edge of the bed, then ran one hand up her body and gently pressed her backward until she leaned on her elbows.
Grasping her knees, he spread her legs wide and avidly drank in the sight of her glistening sex. His blood surged in his groin. Barely holding on to his slipping control, he slid his hands beneath her, tugged her closer and settled her thighs over his shoulders before dragging his fingers over her warm cleft.
“Dylan,” she gasped, her voice breaking on a ragged breath as he leaned forward and gave her folds a long, lazy lick. Sh
e was so damn hot. So very responsive.
Her feminine sigh deepened into a groan when he slipped two fingers inside her and slowly pumped while his lips and tongue pleasured her, licking, teasing, sucking, flicking, swirling.
His other hand skated up to her breasts and he teased her peaked nipples, rolling them between his fingers. She lifted writhing hips against him, seeking more, her breaths quickening into erratic puffs. He felt her body tense, her arousal tightening, until with a sharp cry she convulsed. With tremors shuddering through her, he slipped a third finger into her wet heat and drew her clitoris into his mouth. She gasped and arched her back as she screamed again.
This time, when the tremors subsided, he kissed his way up her body, then shifted her higher on the mattress. When he rose to his knees, she joined him.
“Let me,” she whispered, raking off his shirt before unfastening his jeans and whisking them off.
“I’m not fighting you on that,” he groaned. Dark need slithered through him as she unfurled a condom over his heavy erection.
With his gaze locked on hers, he lowered her back to the bed, settling himself between her splayed thighs. He brushed his erection along her silky, wet folds, then entered her in one long, deep stroke. The heat of her body clamped around him and sweat popped along his brow.
He held himself there a moment, feeling their hearts beat in sync, inside and out. The sound mesmerized him as it reverberated through him.
He watched her, unblinking, as they connected on a level they hadn’t breached yet...ever. This wasn’t a frenzy of sex to ease a wild craving. This was something deeper and more powerful. A joining.
He gritted his teeth against the intense pleasure and withdrew nearly all the way from her body. Dark lashes fanned against her scarlet cheeks and air rushed between her parted lips.
“Open your eyes.” He whispered the ragged words through the heated inches between them, winning the attention of her passion-clouded gaze. He wanted to watch her eyes glaze over with pleasure, wanted her to see...really see that it was him, and only him, who could make her shatter.
Then he plunged again, deep, grinding his hips slowly against hers. He shuddered at the sensation of sinking into her tight wet sheath, then withdrawing, again and again, the erotically slick friction jolting pleasure into his every nerve ending.
