Making Waves

by Tawna Fenske

  He kissed her hard on the lips; forget the peck on the cheek. His mouth devoured hers as his hands slid down to fit into the small of her back. Her dress was so thin he could feel every curve and dip of her body. Her breasts pressed against his chest and Alex felt all the blood leave his brain as he thought about how little separated their flesh.

  He deepened the kiss, circling his palm low on her back to feel her move against him. He slid his other hand into her hair, groaning a little at the feel of those crazy curls twisting around his fingers. Her breath was coming hard now, pushing her breasts against him with every inhalation. Her hair smelled like coconuts and lemons, and Alex felt dizzy at the thought of tasting her. He abandoned her lips and began to kiss his way down her throat, lingering on a spot that made her squirm and whimper.

  Julie gasped and lifted one bare foot off the floor, sliding it up the back of his calf until she reached the hollow behind his knee. She drew him closer, pressing herself against the fly of his slacks. Alex felt the ground tilt under him and wondered if he was about to topple them both to the floor.

  At this point, he didn’t care.

  His hand left the small of her back and slid down, palming the perfect curve of her ass through her dress. He lingered there, feeling her move warm and soft in his arms. Then he slid lower, not stopping until he reached a bare expanse of thigh. He drew his fingers over that smooth, naked flesh, wondering if the air conditioner was broken or if it was just that hot in the room.

  Juli ground harder against him, and Alex slid his hand up again, lifting the hem of her dress higher, higher, then higher still, finding nothing but bare skin—

  Juli pulled back and grinned up at him. “Commando,” she murmured. “It was hot today, you know?”

  “God, yes.”

  “You should probably lose a layer yourself.” She reached for the top button on his shirt and flicked it through the hole. She moved lower, freeing another button, kissing her way down the center of his chest.

  Alex twisted his fingers in her hair as she slid down his body. He made a strangled sound in the back of his throat, wanting to suggest they move toward the bed but not able to form any words besides, “Oh, God.”

  Her mouth was hot and clever and everywhere at once as she took her time undoing the buttons, kissing each inch of exposed flesh as she moved lower.

  His shirt was unbuttoned now, and Julie stood up slowly, sliding her palms over his abdomen, then up and across his chest. She held them there for a moment, then took a step back and smiled at him. She reached for the hem of her dress. She hesitated. Alex held his breath, ready to tear it off her body with his teeth if she didn’t do it herself.

  “Alex?”

  “Mmm?”

  “Um, do you have any—um, well—”

  Alex closed his eyes, knowing what she was going to say. Knowing damn well that condoms had not been on the pirate packing list.

  He shook his head, still too dizzy to form words. He opened his eyes and caught sight of her hands frozen on the hem of her dress. His head started to spin again.

  Juli smiled and let go of her dress, placing her palm over his heart instead. “Give me five minutes,” she said, pulling back and reaching for the pocket where he’d seen her stash the money in her knapsack. “I saw a drugstore just down the block.”

  He saw her wobble a little, then catch herself on the back of the chair. She let go of the chair and unzipped her knapsack, fumbling with the bills. Two of them fluttered to the carpet and Juli bent to retrieve them. She teetered, grabbing the back of the chair again with a shaky hand. Alex licked his lips and tasted rum.

  Shit. Was he out of his fucking mind?

  “Wait,” he said, hating the words he was about to say, but knowing he’d hate himself more if he didn’t ask. “How much have you had to drink?”

  “What?”

  “At the bar. You were drinking mai tais. Are you—”

  “Drunk? I wouldn’t say that, exactly. Tipsy, but not plastered.”

  “I can’t—” He took a breath, shoved his hands in his pockets. “I don’t feel right taking advantage of a woman who’s had too much to drink.”

  She looked at him like he’d just sprouted an extra ear, then threw her head back and laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  He shook his head, trying to look anywhere but that smooth expanse of cleavage quivering with laughter. “Just a rule I have, okay?”

  “You’re okay with the one-night stand, but not with someone who’s a tiny bit tipsy?”

  “It’s just something I feel strongly about. I’m trying to be a gentleman.”

  She laughed again, clutching the back of the chair so hard it tipped over and landed with a thud on the carpet. She didn’t seem to notice. “A gentleman who had his hand on my bare ass not thirty seconds ago. Alex, really—”

  “I’m sorry—believe me, I want to. But we don’t have any protection, and I don’t feel right about taking advantage, and I just—I think we should stop here.”

  She stopped laughing and looked at him for a few beats. Her eyes were glassy and a little disappointed, but she nodded and straightened her dress. “I suppose I can respect that.”

  He grimaced, thinking he’d rather be naked than respected. Still, he was doing the right thing. He might be the kind of guy who robbed a cargo ship on the high seas, but he wasn’t the kind of guy to take advantage of an intoxicated woman.

  Besides, he had a big day tomorrow. He had to get his head in the game; this was no time for a fling with a woman he’d just met in a bar.

  “Okay,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets to hide his arousal. “So I guess this is it.”

  “You planning to button your shirt before you walk outside?”

  “I think I need to cool off.”

  “They’ve got the sprinklers running. Maybe you should detour through the lawn.”

  “Good idea.”

  He took a step toward the door, wanting to touch her again but knowing damn well where that would lead. He hesitated.

  She smiled and smoothed down the front of her dress. “Good-bye, Alex. Happy sailing.”

  He nodded and reached for the doorknob. “Have a nice life, Juli.”

  Chapter 3

  Juli woke the next morning feeling blissfully warm and happy. She’d been dreaming of being ravaged on a beach by a handsome pirate who looked an awful lot like Alex.

  Alex. Dammit to hell.

  Fine, she could admit now she’d been tipsier than she’d realized. Her tongue felt like someone had glued it to the roof of her mouth, and she knew she couldn’t blame her nausea entirely on her dread of her impending high-seas voyage. Alex had been right to leave. Still, she’d wanted him so desperately. If only she’d thought to pack condoms. If only she hadn’t ordered that last mai tai. If only—

  With a sigh, Juli sat up and looked out the window at the ocean.

  She lay back down again, feeling queasy.

  Once her stomach had stopped rolling, she chanced a look at her watch. 7:02. Great. Three hours to fully enjoy the dread of her sea voyage coupled with a slight hangover.

  She sat up again and rolled out of bed, padding across the tile floor in her bare feet. She caught sight of Frank’s urn on the table and gave it an affectionate pat. “Sorry you had to see that last night,” she said as she headed into the bathroom and cranked on the shower.

  Despite the derailed tryst, last night had been fun. Really fun. She couldn’t believe she’d had the guts to drag Alex up onstage for the contest. Even more amazing, he’d gone for it. Willingly. Eagerly even, totally on board with the game. Guys like that weren’t easy to find. It was too bad she hadn’t even gotten his last name. He might have been fun to meet up with again sometime, maybe when her life got back to normal.

  She frowned at that. When is your life ever normal?

  Juli showered and shampooed her hair, feeling a little more human by the time she switched off the water. She climbed out of the shower, toweled
off, and dressed carefully in a pair of turquoise capris and a white T-shirt with flip-flops that had little seashells on the straps.

  Tucking her extra clothes and toiletries into her knapsack, Juli ambled downstairs in search of the most grease she could ingest without an IV. Two cheeseburgers and thirty-six Tater Tots later, she wobbled back up to her room and studied the instructions on the seasickness medication she’d purchased the day before.

  “Take each dose with a full glass of water,” she read. “Take every four to six hours as needed. Do not take more than four hundred milligrams in one day.”

  Juli measured out the dose carefully, wondering if a little extra might be wise since she had a full stomach.

  Forty-five minutes later, she was standing in front of the hotel admiring the garden hose.

  “Shiny,” she said to no one in particular.

  “Miss? Can I help you with something?”

  She looked up to see that the hotel receptionist had four extra ears. That would make answering phones much easier.

  Juli smiled at her. “Can I take this dog on the boat with me?”

  “That’s a lawn mower.”

  “Okay.”

  “Are you on—um—some sort of substance?”

  “Substance?”

  “Drugs. Are you on drugs?”

  “Seasick,” she said and fished into her knapsack for the little white box. She handed it to the receptionist, marveling that the woman had six hands.

  The receptionist took the box and studied it for a moment. Then she looked back at Juli. “Are you by any chance allergic to morphine or codeine?”

  Juli stared at her, admiring how fluffy her necklace was.

  “Because if you’re allergic to those drugs, you’re probably allergic to almost any drug with an -ine at the end. Are you hallucinating?”

  Juli nodded and took her box of medicine back. “Tell Santa I said hello.”

  Then she wandered off toward the marina, enjoying the way the sidewalk nibbled on her toes as she walked. When she got to the marina, she looked at her watch. The man had said the boat left at ten o’clock, but it was good to be early. Two hours early was very good.

  She tried to find the receipt that told her which boat to get on, but her knapsack had grown at least sixty new zippers. Juli looked out over the marina.

  White boat, Juli recalled. Blue stripe.

  Spotting the boat at the end of the pier, she made her way down there, wondering why the sky was yellow. Stumbling her way on board the boat, Juli tried the door to the cabin. Locked. Looking around, she saw an open window.

  “Crunchy,” she said and climbed through.

  Once inside, she surveyed her new digs. Not bad. The tree growing from the middle of the boat was a nice touch, and she was pretty sure she saw a gnome peeking out of the cupboard.

  Juli unzipped her knapsack and pulled out Uncle Frank’s urn.

  “Here you go,” she said, setting it on the bench near a window. “Now you can see the ocean.”

  Then she stumbled into her stateroom and pulled the door closed behind her, landing with a thud on the bed.

  ***

  “Everything all set?” Alex called to his fearless pirate crew.

  “Ready,” said Phyllis as she gave him a thumbs-up. The yellow bandana she’d tied over her hair made her look more like a disgruntled housewife than a pirate, but at least she was smiling.

  “Ten-four,” chimed Jake, his bald head gleaming in the sunlight.

  “Can you tell me again which end is the stern and which end is the bow?” Cody asked.

  Jake began to explain it to him for the hundredth time. Alex smiled, thinking how much progress they’d all made since they’d first hammered out this crazy plan in his kitchen just three weeks before.

  It was a simple enough idea. The four of them had sailed his forty-five-foot Cabo Rico from Key West to St. John, taking their time over the two-week journey to make sure Jake and Cody and Phyllis got their sea legs and learned the basics of boating. Alex had sailed throughout the Caribbean for years and recognized the intrinsic value of not having to buy plane tickets or check luggage with questionable contents.

  An accomplished sailor himself, Alex learned to be patient with his less-than-salty crew. By the time they reached St. John, Phyllis, Jake, and Cody were sailing like pros.

  Well, maybe not like pros. But at least not like drunk third graders.

  The next part of the journey would be a little trickier. Relying on Alex’s boating expertise, their combined years of experience in the shipping industry, and some creative computer hacking by Phyllis, the four of them had identified a tiny island approximately six hundred miles into the Atlantic. The island wasn’t on any map, but it was apparently owned by Tom Portelli and used as a refueling station during these off-the-books missions.

  The distance and timing involved meant they needed a powerboat. More importantly, they needed an anonymous powerboat. A bareboat charter rental that couldn’t be traced to any of them.

  Jake had helped with the fake paperwork for their foursome. Phyllis had nailed down the particulars of the cargo boat’s voyage by hacking into Kranston’s computer system and finding a way to monitor Tom Portelli’s ship’s GPS throughout the journey. Cody—the only one who knew how to operate a kitchen appliance more complicated than a toaster—had taken over grocery shopping and cooking. He’d also gathered essentials like rain gear and a first-aid kit and extra water.

  And ski masks and paintball guns, naturally.

  All in all, they were well prepared. Well, as prepared as four terminated corporate rejects could be for their first pirate mission.

  “Let me know when the bow clears the slip,” Alex called out.

  Jake peered over the edge, then turned and gave a thumbs-up. “You’re good.”

  Alex worked the bow-thruster, feathering the throttle of the powerful twin diesels. He steered the Tollycraft 53 out of the marina and through the bay. Someone waved from the shore, then vanished as the boat powered its way out to sea. Alex watched the miles slip past, cruising at five knots until they reached open water. Then he opened it up to ten knots.

  He held that speed for a while, navigating north–northwest. The air tasted salty and warm, and Alex lost himself in a daydream that involved Juli and a whole lot of suntan oil. Part of him kicked himself for leaving last night. What would the harm have been? She’d been willing and eager—God, she’d been eager—so maybe he should have gone for it.

  But no. He had rules of conduct. Taking advantage of drunk women wasn’t his style and never had been.

  Still, he could think about the way she’d looked last night with her back arched and her face tilted toward him, her lips full and warm and her breasts pressed against him—

  Alex distracted himself with that fantasy for a good long while. By the time he looked down at his watch, an hour and a half had passed and the island had vanished behind them.

  “Four days,” Cody said, jarring him out of his thoughts. Alex turned to see Cody shoving his lucky rabbit’s foot in the pocket of his sailing shorts and kissing his St. Christopher’s medal before tucking it back inside the white T-shirt that strained against his muscular frame. “Four days ’til contact.”

  Alex nodded. “That’s the plan. Four days out at eight knots, one day back at twenty knots. You guys want to run through the details again?”

  “No, I think we’ve got it,” Jake answered, scanning the horizon. “Not like we haven’t had three weeks to obsess about this.”

  They cruised in silence for a while, each of them seemingly lost in their own thoughts. Alex considered how effortless it had been for all of them to drop everything and go. None of them had kids or spouses or anything that required more care than an asparagus fern. He tried not to dwell on how pathetic that was. They’d all been so focused on their careers, they’d forgotten to have lives.

  Ironic, really. Jenny had dumped him because he wasn’t making enough money, so he busted ass a
t Kranston all those years to prove her wrong.

  And here he was twenty years later, still alone, still broke, and wrong after all.

  He frowned at how pitiful that sounded and looked around at his crewmates. All of them looked a little less haggard out here on the ocean, a little more alive. The layoff had taken the wind out of their sails, and they were all damn determined to get it back. Crazy as this plan might be, he trusted these guys with his life. Trust wasn’t exactly his strong suit, so that said something right there.

  Alex glanced at his watch. They’d been on the water for just over five hours now. “Anyone hungry?” he called.

  “Not hungry, but maybe we could use some coffee,” Phyllis said.

  Cody jumped up and scrambled toward the galley. “I’ll get it, let me.”

  “Thanks, Cody,” Alex said. “Maybe some of those cookies you made earlier?”

  “No sweat,” Cody said. “Hey, guys?”

  “What’s that, Cody?”

  “I was thinking now that we’re at sea, you could start calling me Cookie.”

  “Cookie?” Jake studied him with a mix of suspicion and alarm.

  “Yeah. You know, since I’m the official cook on the pirate ship.”

  Alex looked at Cody to see if he was joking. He wasn’t. “Sure, Cookie,” he agreed, watching his shipmate’s 275-pound frame disappear down the stairs. “Whatever you say.”

  Alex turned back to the ocean, his attention focused on the equatorial currents. They wanted to pull the boat westward, which was to be expected here. He checked the GPS and fiddled with the Autohelm, steering them north–northwest and further out to sea.

  Fifteen minutes went by with no sign of Cody. Alex looked at his watch again. They were making good time, and the weather forecast had predicted sunny skies all week. If they were going to lose their jobs and resort to illegal pirate activity, they couldn’t have picked a better time to do it.

  “Here you go,” Cody called as he emerged from below deck.

  Alex turned to see him carrying a silver tray topped with little blue teacups, a French press coffee maker, and a plate of chocolate biscuits that looked homemade. Cody set the tray down and Alex studied him.