Jewel of Solana

by Susan Sheehey

  “What?”

  He grabbed his phone from the dresser and punched in a number.

  “Who are you calling this time of night?”

  “He’ll have something, I know it.”

  The towel around his waist started to slip, and her heart raced. Just as someone answered, he caught it.

  Damn.

  “Parker, it’s Flynn…Yeah, I know it’s been a long time. I need a huge favor.” He wrestled with the towel again, but it was cumbersome with only one hand. “Hang on.”

  He put the phone on speaker, set it on the dresser, and readjusted the towel. “Do you have a boat leaving Manila tomorrow needing someone? I’ll take anything: mechanic, steward, even a deckhand. Plus one.”

  “I thought you were skippering for your father these days, mate. Did the business go unda’?” Parker’s distinct Australian accent sounded rough, slurred.

  “No, this is a one-time thing. Long story. Do you have anything?” Flynn rustled in his duffel bag. He slipped on a pair of boxer briefs under his towel. Alanna caught a sliver of his smooth, white buttock.

  She bit her bottom lip, focusing on that peek of soft skin, wishing she could squeeze it.

  “Seriously? What’s the urgency? You runnin’ from the police or something?” Parker laughed through a bunch of keyboard clicking.

  “Um…” Flynn rubbed the back of his head.

  “Shit, mate, what the hell did you do?”

  “I’m helping som—”

  “Never mind,” Parker said. “I don’t want to know. But you know as well as I do that getting on a ship with this late notice isn’t gonna fly.”

  “You know I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t an emergency.”

  Parker’s sigh was followed by silence.

  “Does Plus-One have any experience?” the Aussie finally asked.

  “She’s a sailor, but no charters.”

  “Dammit, mate. You’re making it impossible to help you. You want a job with no notice for someone who’s not a yachtee?”

  “Parker, anything. We’re desperate here.”

  More banging away on a keyboard, and he cleared his throat. “The only thing I have is a 145- footer needing another engine man. Just island hopping around Malaysia for three weeks with a bunch of college daughters. Billionaire daddy’s dime. There’s only one cabin left, so you’d have to share. But don’t yell at me if the captain doesn’t approve. I don’t know many skippa’s who’d let an inexperienced yachtee onboard.”

  “Thanks, Parker. I owe you.” He tossed the towel on the bed.

  “Damn right, you do. The Penny Saved is at the Port of Manila, Pier 15. Set to leave at eight tomorrow morning. Report to Skippa’ Chen.”

  Flynn wrote the info on a hotel notepad. “Next time I’m in Brisbane, we’ll grab a cold one on me.”

  “Make it a case, and we’ve got a deal.”

  Flynn hung up and turned to Alanna. His eyes held a spark of something, like a captain setting sail on his maiden voyage. Yet Alanna’s attention drew immediately to the tight, gray briefs accentuating his masculinity. Her lips parted, and fire filled her cheeks.

  Well endowed is an understatement.

  “We lucked out.” He smiled. When he noticed where her eyes drifted, he turned to grab a shirt and cotton pants from his bag. When he pulled them on, he faced her again, his cheeks red back to his ears. “Try and get some sleep. We have an early morning.”

  SLEEP WAS IMPOSSIBLE WITH THE massive warmth and intoxicating scent lying next to Alanna under the covers. Every so often, she’d drift into a drowsy state and see her terrified reflection in the knife blade. She’d yelp, waking them in the dark room. Other times it was Pierre’s death stare in the palace, or the alley thug’s brains splattering on a brick wall. Each time she woke trembling and near tears.

  Flynn eventually wrapped his arms around her, and coaxed her into a soothing drowsy-state. She couldn’t see his face, but his heart rhythm was steady. Comforting, like the earth’s natural clock. His abs were strong, even when relaxed. She laid her hand on his stomach to match his breathing.

  He moaned, soft and light like he’d tasted something sweet. “Your hands are warm.”

  She smiled, and slowly moved her hand up to his chest. Heat radiated off him in flares, to which she was drawn like a sailor to a strong wind.

  “That feels so good, it’s torture,” he groaned, tucking her into his side more. Everything about him was strong.

  “That would make you a masochist,” she murmured into his neck. “You hardly seem the type.”

  “You hardly seem the dominatrix type.” His hand drifted down her arm to the small of her back. Dangerously close to her buttocks. She held her breath, waiting for him to move lower. But he didn’t.

  “I have no interest in domination,” she murmured through disappointment.

  Flynn chuckled low in the darkness. “You have the kind of heart that makes men submit, without even asking.”

  What if I asked you? Would you submit?

  Alanna raised herself up on an elbow, hovering over his shadowed form. Building the courage to make the first move. He turned his head to her, but his expression was concealed by the night. Her pulse skittered out of control, and cheeks burned. Another big risk.

  “If that’s the case…” Alanna lowered her head and touched her lips to his. He didn’t hesitate to open for her, melding their mouths together. He tasted like spearmint mouthwash with a tinge of alcohol. The butterflies in her stomach took flight with her soul. When their tongues first touched, he gripped the back of her shirt—his shirt—and slipped his other hand into her hair. Eventually her bun unraveled, tumbling to the side. She sank even lower onto him, her breasts pushing against his pecs. The necklace dangled inside her shirt, the heavy weight hitting his neckline

  Tongues tangling and diving deeper into each other, she hooked her leg over his and caressed his calf with her foot. Her knee skimmed against his fully aroused groin. When she deliberately lingered there, he rumbled deep from his throat. The sound vibrated through her, igniting her bravery more.

  She moved his hand from her hair down to cover her breast, over her clothes. She pressed his palm into her, urging for more. To further emphasize the point, she nibbled on his lip, sucking hard.

  But he didn’t squeeze back. His hand rested in the same spot, unmoving.

  “Flynn?” Her voice was near panting.

  “See what I mean?” he breathed just as heavily. “You take command without even knowing it.”

  “Does that mean you’ll submit?” She smiled. Her breasts grew hotter, heavier, almost aching with need.

  He cradled her head in his hands and kissed her softly, slowly moving to her ear. His gentle touch overwhelmed her, driving her to the next level.

  She was ready. She wanted this more than anything. When he kissed her earlobe, his breath sent her to the edge.

  “Not here,” he whispered.

  Every part of her core screamed for more, incredibly aroused more than ever. It took several seconds for her body to catch up to her brain.

  “Qu-que?” she muttered.

  He looked in her eyes. “Not here. You deserve more than this.”

  “More than you?”

  “That’s not what I mean. More than here.”

  She sat up, trying to decipher his expression in the dark. “Why, because I’m a princess? Royalty is only allowed to do it on a palace bed?” It was hard to contain the disbelief in her voice.

  “Because you’re Alanna.” He caressed her cheek, his touch still hot and arousing. “Precious, special, and worth so much more than a dank hotel room in an unfamiliar place. Especially for your first time.” He emphasized the last sentence with more raw heat than she’d ever heard.

  But as gentle as his words were, they still hurt. Rejection was an ugly bitch, no matter how tender the lips. How many times am I going to be rejected? First Paulo, now Flynn.

  “You’re denying me again? Because you think I val
ue where we make love over with whom and why?”

  Flynn sighed and moved his hands to her arms. “It should be after a five-star, seven-course meal, a night full of dancing and champagne. With breakfast-in-bed and a Jaccuzi bath the next morning instead of an alarm clock to flee the country.”

  She swallowed hard. His idea of true romance sounded incredible, just the kind of thing she imagined herself as the way to woo a woman. But as wonderful as it appeared, it was hard to see herself doing that now. Life seemed more precious than to spend it waiting for ideal. Now that she’d cheated death several times, and still so close on her heels, she didn’t want to wait on what people expected of a princess. She wanted to experience life. Life with Flynn.

  She pulled herself out of his grasp and stared hard into sweet rejection. “It’s because of that damn alarm clock that I want to do this. Because any moment may be the last for me. I’ve found someone I want to share myself with.”

  Flynn huffed, heavy and tortured. “Even before all of this happened, it could always be the last moment—for anyone. You shouldn’t give up your ideals or standards because of a life or death situation. And I won’t jeopardize or disrespect you just because I have the chance.”

  “So, it is me.” The whole self-conscious thing creeping down her spine was brand new, intimidating and completely infuriating. She could go the rest of her life without feeling like this again.

  “That’s not what I said. Don’t you understand that I don’t want you to regret me?”

  Alanna couldn’t sort through the words fighting in her mind. They all jumbled together. She turned away and hugged the far side of the mattress.

  “Please know I want to.” Flynn hovered over her, less than a foot away. “I’d be crazy not to want you…”

  “Duermete,” she snapped.

  “What does that mean?”

  “Sleep.”

  Flynn grumbled and lay down. “I must be fucking crazy.”

  You’re damn right.

  FLYNN HAD OFFICIALLY STRUCK OUT.

  He’d rejected the most incredible, gorgeous woman—twice. Now she hated him.

  He’d wanted her like hell—with a pull stronger than a hurricane. But he was completely out of his element and his mind still focused on getting her out of Manila. Planning their route to the marina, and crafting their cover story if needed.

  But more than anything, he didn’t want her to regret him. It would crush him if he were nothing more than a passing infatuation to the one person he couldn’t let go of. Bottom line, he was afraid. For the first time ever.

  He’d spent the night watching the door, hoping they wouldn’t be found. He’d counted the steps to the door and down the hallway to the fire exit. The escape route fully mapped in his mind. By four in the morning, he was fighting the heavy weight on his eyelids. The only times he’d laid down were when Alanna had woken from a nightmare. He’d held her to coax her to sleep. She’d shoved him away the first few times, but eventually gave in and let him comfort her.

  First thing in the morning, she was an icy mountain of injured pride and vicious silence. The first time ever he hated the cold shoulder.

  The good news was the captain of the Penny Saved let them on board. The moment they crossed the gangplank, Alanna was a perfect blend of hospitality and infectious smile, just not with Flynn. Captain Chen took to her immediately. Everyone did.

  But there was no time for socializing. The uniforms were shoved into their arms, followed by a rushed tour and list of specific duties before the billionaire’s daughter and her college cronies arrived for their three-week trek around the South Pacific.

  Alanna was whisked off to the kitchen without a word, while Flynn checked the engines for push off. The official re-entrance into the world of professional yachting.

  With his hands on his hips, Flynn stared at the equipment, shaking his head.

  The Penny Saved was a floating marvel, as far as accommodations and luxuries. But the owner clearly cut every corner not visible to guests. Rust bled through the lazy paintjob on the porthole covers, clearly not sanded or sealed before painted. Older valves leaked, and the refurbished pumps were on their last legs. The ship was full of half measures and borrowed parts. A gilded rust-bucket.

  But this was a temporary escape for them. He’d keep his mouth shut and coast until they found a safe port to make it to a U.S. Consulate the princess could trust.

  Less than an hour later, Flynn climbed the stairs to find Alanna in the kitchen with the chef. Both were busy preparing appetizers for the clients.

  Alanna was a little small for the vanilla steward uniform they handed her, but she still embodied angelic grace and natural appeal better than anyone else. Her hair was braided to the side, dangling over her breast. Clearly her favorite style. The sky-blue accents on the collar and sleeves, with Penny Saved embroidered on the chest, were typical crew fatigues, although Flynn knew this was the first time Alanna wore anything like it.

  She took to the work a little too well. Under the chef’s direction, preparing a plate of canapés on a serving tray never appeared so intense with the level of attention Alanna gave it. Perhaps only because she wanted to emphasize ignoring her companion.

  But the food looked almost as delicious as her.

  The window behind her showed a decent view of the Port of Manila, slowly floating by. In a matter of minutes, they cleared the port’s concrete barriers and entered the busy Bay of Manila. Flynn let out a silent sigh.

  Good riddance, fuckers.

  His eyes briefly met Alanna’s, and he nodded to the window. She watched the last buoy pass the yacht, Manila growing smaller with every second. She tossed him a slight smile and returned to arranging the canapés.

  Flynn moved to the side deck to ensure they weren’t being followed. When the sliding door opened, the fresh heat swarmed him. The humidity was already sweltering at ten in the morning. It would be another scorcher today, but at least they’d be safe. More importantly, it didn’t look like any customs officials were following them, or cartel hit men with a hard-on.

  Girlish laughter drew his attention to the front deck, where the four clients sunbathed, wearing oversized sunglasses and bikinis no bigger than eye patches. Their clothes were scattered throughout the patio furniture, on the verge of being collected by the wind to decorate the yacht’s wake.

  He should just let the clothes float away. Teach the clients a lesson to better watch their things. The stiletto sandals made him cringe. Despite their complete lack of purpose, those suckers would scratch the deck. Which I’ll have to polish later.

  “Can we get some drinks over here?” A high-pitched, snotty voice scraped against his ears like an anchor chain on metal. The platinum blonde with an orange tan and a glittery purple bikini waved her hand at him. Probably the owner’s precious little angel.

  Flynn ground his teeth. “Yes?”

  She shaded her eyes from the sun because her glasses were more for fashion than function. “A piña colada for me and…hey, you’re one steamin’ cup of white chocolate, aren’t you?”

  Flynn’s brows drew together. Great. One of these clients. I so don’t miss this job.

  “Do you speak English?” she laughed. “Parlez-vous…”

  “Yes, I do,” he replied, irritation crawling up his neck. “Anything else?” he directed to the other twenty-year-old brats stretched out on their stomachs, watching the interlude from the patio chairs.

  “Piñas all around,” the Asian girl replied with a flirty smile. She wore a white bikini fringed with sequins or gems that hardly looked comfortable. The other two girls giggled, a natural blonde with a real tan, the other a brunette with pale skin.

  “With some real coconut slices,” the first girl added. “Unless you’d like to be my stir stick.” She licked her fingers, slow and blatantly suggestive.

  Flynn wanted to throw up.

  “I’ll let the steward know.” He turned to walk away. Escape these pathetic adolescents to the refug
e of the engine room.

  “Wait,” the rude one stopped him. She was the client, so he had to comply.

  “What?”

  “You’re not the steward?”

  “I’m the engineer.”

  “Oh,” she accentuated. Either genuinely impressed or not, Flynn didn’t care. “So, we won’t be seeing you around the deck very much?”

  “Nope.” Thank God.

  “Then I’ll just have to search for you below if I need you.” She traced her wet finger down her chest into her cleavage.

  Flynn hid a glower. “If you need anything, the stews can get them for you.”

  When he turned around again, Alanna stood there holding the tray of appetizers as well as four glasses of what smelled like lemonade. She glanced between Flynn and the girls, particularly the rude one immediately behind him. A scowl flashed on her face, but she erased it with her diplomatic smile like a pro.

  I have to watch this.

  “Here you are, ladies,” she sang. “The chef thought you’d like these refreshing drinks and fruits to start off your morning. Very high in electrolytes to combat dehydration.” She served the other ladies first, the brunette and Asian both smiling. The brunette actually said “thank you.” Alanna served the rude one last, not that it mattered.

  The girl scoffed. “I said piña colada. Are you deaf? Or are you the one who can’t speak English?” The instant viciousness was as equally impressive as disgusting.

  Alanna blanched, clearly not used to being harassed by ungrateful clients. Flynn had had his fair share in this line of work, only making it a year in that business. It revolted him how rude many yacht clients were just because they could be, feeling superior to those in a servant role. He knew the blindsided feeling well, and didn’t miss it.

  He was ready for Alanna’s fiery attitude to lay into the blonde with full force.

  “Relax, Stacia,” the Asian chimed in—probably a Filipina. “It’s only the first hour. Anyone want to cool off in the hot tub?”

  “No, I want my damn piña colada!”

  “I’ll go help the chef make your drinks,” Alanna countered with a smile. “Until they’re ready, these will keep you cool. He made the canapés to start off your vacation with style.”