ALIAS SMITH AND JONES

by Kylie Brant

  He turned back to the sea, squinted into the distance. "Yes."

  "Well, that's no surprise." She sipped and followed the direction of his gaze. She couldn't see what would warrant such close attention. "How about if I talk and you just point and grunt. We don't want to tax your abilities."

  His mouth twitched in what might pass as a smile. "You are a smart-ass, aren't you?"

  "That depends on your perspective, I suppose." Her brothers had always thought so, especially James, who still operated under the assumption that she was a precocious twelve-year-old. "Miss Emmaline back home at the public library would share your view, but then she never had much of a sense of humor. So when I posted a screen saver on the library computers of her kissing Goofy, she definitely overreacted."

  "When was this, last week?" He passed his empty glass to her, and she filled it up again, before handing it back.

  "I was fifteen. It cost me the better part of my summer vacation, too. I had to help computerize the entire library collection as restitution."

  "So you'd think you'd have learned to curb your outrageous behavior."

  "I learned not to get caught," she corrected absently. Leaning forward, she gazed at the instrument panel above the helm. "Can I take the helm for a while?"

  From his horrified gaze, she thought aggrievedly, you'd think she'd asked him for his kidney.

  "No one handles the Nefarious but me."

  "You said Pappy does."

  "He's crew. You're not."

  "I handle my brother's sailboat all the time." It was a stretch of the truth, but not totally. She had, but only with James hovering behind her. He was as protective of his precious ship as Jones seemed to be of his own.

  "Well, this isn't a sailboat, and guests don't take the helm." From the flat tone of the words, she knew that wheedling would have no effect. "Maybe you should have stayed home and sailed instead of trotting all this way looking for a good time."

  "I had to get away for a while." Ana was on familiar ground now, having practiced this story before leaving the States. "I just broke up with my boyfriend, and I needed to put some distance between us. The restraining order won't hold him off for long, and I didn't want any more trouble."

  She was just warming to the rest of her story when he said, "Yeah, okay."

  "What do you mean, 'yeah, okay'? You don't believe I could have a boyfriend?" The accuracy of that guess didn't make it any less insulting.

  His gaze had returned to the waters ahead of them. "It means I don't care. About your boyfriend, restraining orders, or library pranks. I think it's time for you to go below." He reached for binoculars hanging on a hook nearby and raised them to his eyes.

  It never occurred to Ana to do as he asked. She had a natural curiosity, and it was roused now. She stared in the direction he was studying and discovered what had snared his attention. There was a ship approaching at top speed. "Do you know who that is?"

  Instead of answering, he issued another order. "Go get Pappy."

  Ana threw him a look. Jones still held the binoculars in one hand, and his profile could have been carved from granite. He didn't answer her; he didn't need to. Whoever was on that ship, Jones wasn't looking particularly welcoming. Without a word she hurried away to do as he asked.

  Pappy was in the galley scrubbing a frying pan when she popped her head in. "Jones wants you on the bridge right away."

  The man dropped the pot scrubber he'd been wielding and wiped his hands on a towel. "He need me to take helm?" He strode after her down the narrow hall.

  "There's a ship heading our way. He doesn't seem happy about it."

  The islander looked around when they got on deck and spotted the approaching ship. He quickened his stride. Ana practically had to jog to keep up with him. "I thought shippers were friendly people."

  "Most be." Pappy climbed the stairs ahead of her. "But some be pirates. We take care."

  Pirates. Ana's jaw dropped. Of all the dangerous scenarios she'd considered before setting out on this trip, piracy somehow hadn't occurred to her. She'd think the older man was pulling her leg if she hadn't noted Jones's reaction earlier. She quickly followed Pappy onto the bridge and saw Jones step away from the helm to allow the crew member to take over for him. Then he stepped aside, swept up a shirt and pulled it on, without bothering to button it. The sleeves were torn out of it, but that wasn't what held Ana's attention. It was the snub-nosed revolver that Jones tucked into his waistband at the base of his spine. He turned, stopping short when he saw her in the doorway.

  She moistened her lips. "Pappy said it might be pirates."

  Jones cast a condemning glance the other man's way, but said, "That's always something we have to be prepared for, but this looks like a government cutter."

  "Government? Whose government?"

  He brushed by her and prepared to descend to the deck. "That's what I plan to find out. Follow me."

  The invitation, though couched more as a command, surprised her. She'd expected him to order her below deck. Falling in step behind him, she asked, "Do I get a gun, too?"

  "Do I look stupid to you?"

  "I'm going to assume that's a rhetorical question."

  He stopped on the starboard side, his stance relaxed, at odds with the muscles she could feel bunched in his arms when she halted beside him. "Listen. This is important, and I want you to follow my lead. Don't open your mouth unless I tell you to. Got it?"

  Under normal circumstances his terse undertone would have gotten her back up, but nothing about this scene was normal. "Got it."

  The cutter reduced its speed and veered slightly away, to swing beside Nefarious. Ana stole a glance at Jones and nearly choked. Nothing but polite interest showed on his face, an expression that had been noticeably absent during the time they'd spent together.

  Schooling her countenance to reflect the same, her efforts were hampered by shock when Jones casually laid his arm around her shoulders. The unfamiliar weight of it made it difficult to concentrate on the four men aboard the other ship.

  "Ahoy. Nice day for a cruise," Jones called out.

  Ana saw the four men on the other ship exchange some words, then one of them stepped forward. "Ahoy, Nefarious captain. May we ask your destination."

  "Laconos." The arm around her shoulders tightened. "Gonna check out the beaches there."

  "You have chosen well." The spokesman's English was university precise. "Our country has the finest beaches in the hemisphere." The man smiled as his companions stared silently. "We are looking for a lost tourist. He went missing several days ago and we believe he was injured. Have you seen any other water craft near here today?"

  "Yours is the first one," Jones replied. He brushed his fingers along Ana's shoulders in what would appear to be an absent caress. Nerve endings torched in the wake of his touch, and it was all she could do to suppress a shiver of reaction. Her involuntary response had her longing to grind her sandaled foot onto the top of his bare one, but she couldn't remove her gaze from the men on the other ship.

  All of them were armed.

  None had taken the pains to hide it that Jones had. Each had a shoulder harness with a gun snugged inside it. She somehow doubted those were the only weapons on the ship.

  "If you should be approached by such a man during your stay on Laconos, we ask that you alert the local police. We have questions to ask of him before we allow him to go."

  "Sure," Jones replied. He glanced down at Ana, his hand shifting from her shoulder to skim down her back. "But we're gonna be keeping pretty much to ourselves while we're there."

  His meaning couldn't have been clearer. The other men smirked, one elbowing another and saying something that made all of them laugh. That, coupled with her involuntary reaction to his touch, compelled Ana to treat Jones with some of his own medicine. Turning toward him, she smiled up in his face, running her hand up his bare chest and then down again, skating her fingers along the tight skin of his belly above his waistband.

&nb
sp; Jones's free hand came up to grasp hers, lover-like, but his grip was anything but caressing. His gaze dropped to hers, a warning in his eyes, one she chose to ignore. He'd started this charade. She was just playing along at his request.

  "Enjoy your stay on Laconos," the man called, as the cutter began to move away.

  "Stay put," he muttered, raising his hand to wave. "I think they need more convincing."

  Frowning, Ana tipped her head back to ask what he meant an instant before his firm, sculpted lips covered her own.

  * * *

  Chapter 4

  «^»

  Shock held Ana immobile. The pressure of Jones's mouth against hers sent a frisson of sexual awareness skipping through her system. Logically she was aware of the pretense he was engaged in. Emotionally she was struggling with her own knee-buckling response. The man knew how to kiss. Somehow she wasn't surprised.

  Even through the haze of her own heightened senses she was able to discern the air of detachment in his touch. While his lips moved persuasively against her own, inciting her pulse to riot, he held himself aloof. And the realization heated her temper as surely as the kiss was heating her blood.

  She could feel the exact moment when he'd decided the farce had gone on long enough. His hands dropped to her waist to set her away from him. Ana would never know just what inner demon drove her to press up against him, go on tiptoe and open her mouth beneath his.

  He went still. Pressing her advantage, she slipped her hands into his open shirt, skated them up his bare sun-warmed skin. Muscles jumped beneath her touch and a purely feminine sense of satisfaction curled through her. She may, to her constant regret, lack much experience, but the man wasn't immune to her. The realization made her bolder, made her want to discover just what it would take to make Jones lose that iron control of his. While she doubted she'd ever see it, she was driven to force more of a reaction from him.

  Her arms twined around his neck, and with one hand she found the thong that kept his hair tied back and released the knot. She threaded her fingers through the freed strands, marveling at the thickness and texture.

  His fingers clenched on her waist, and Ana braced for the moment he would push her away. But instead, Jones pulled her closer, drew her bottom lip into his mouth and scored it with his teeth.

  The deck seemed to tilt beneath her feet, and weakness permeated her limbs. When his tongue boldly swept into her mouth, tasted her own, the kiss became all too real, all too devastating. It became abruptly clear to Ana that she'd never really been kissed before. Not like this. The press of his mouth was demanding, explicitly carnal. His taste was that of an aroused, primal male, and it traced through her senses leaving a trail of fire in its wake. One of his hands slid lower, found her bottom and squeezed. Shivering, she pressed closer to him, cupped his hard jaw and gave herself over to feeling.

  Sensations were colliding inside her, too varied to be individually identified. There was the sun high overhead, bathing them both with warmth. The heat of Jones's body pressed tightly to hers, her breasts flattened against the sculpted muscles in his chest. The dark sensual flavor of his kiss and the tidal wave of response that told her she knew nothing about wanting. Of desire. But there was no doubt that this man could teach her.

  The raucous screech of a gull overhead shattered the building desperation between them. As Ana was jolted back to reality, she was aware of the sudden tightening of Jones's body. Fighting a crippling sense of loss, she forced herself to be the first to step back, and manufactured a careless smile to hide the emotions still crashing inside her. "Well, if that didn't convince them, nothing could."

  "What?"

  She half turned away. It was easier, far easier, to play her part when she wasn't facing him and longing to dive back into his arms. "You wanted them to believe we were lovers looking for a secluded beach, didn't you? They shouldn't have any doubts after that display. Good thinking."

  His answer was slow in coming. "Yeah, that's what I'd planned. But I think things got a little out of hand."

  Something in his voice alerted her. It took a great deal of effort to meet his eyes, and what she saw there had her swallowing involuntarily. "Well, you told me to follow your lead, so I did. You were very good, by the way. I'm sure they didn't suspect a thing."

  He shrugged, the gesture rife with frustration. "Yeah. Maybe it wasn't such a great plan, after all. I mean, I don't want you getting the wrong idea."

  On a ten-point scale for offensiveness, that remark warranted at least a fifteen. Ana welcomed the anger that began to bubble in her veins, dissipating the desire that still lingered there. "The wrong idea?" She pretended confusion. "Oh, you mean about you wanting to go to bed with me. I thought we were beyond that. We were just acting, right? It's not like either of us felt anything."

  The flinty hardness in his eyes was all too familiar. "As long as you realize that."

  "No problem." Lifting a shoulder, she turned away, wandered toward the bridge. "You've got nothing to worry about. I put more effort into kissing Robby Marlowe in fourth grade. While he lacked your technique, he made up for it in enthusiasm." She felt, rather than heard, him fall into step behind her.

  "You must have been pretty precocious."

  "Not really. It was a just a game of spin the bottle. Didn't you ever play games as a kid?"

  "Not those kind." He quickened his stride and reached the staircase before her, started up it. The sight of his hard buns encased in faded jean cutoffs had her throat going dry. What the man did to denim was positively sinful. So, surely it was that sight, in addition to the kiss, that had short-circuited her brain. Because once conscious thought struck her again, she froze in her tracks.

  If the government officials were looking for just a lost tourist, as they claimed, why would they all be armed? Weapons suggested they expected danger, or at least a fight from the man they sought. Which meant he wasn't just an ordinary tourist.

  A chill coursed through her. Could the man they were searching for be Sam? The thought filled her with dread.

  We believe he may have been injured…

  Ana cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions, but she had to face facts. If the "missing tourist" was Sam, the Laconos government had no intention of letting him off the island. Which made it all the more imperative that she find her brother. Before the police did.

  Intent on getting some answers from Jones, she hurried in his wake up to the bridge. When she appeared, he and Pappy broke off the conversation they were holding in undertones and looked at her. "It wasn't pirates, Pappy," she announced as she strolled into the room. "It was just a government cutter from Laconos. Did Jones tell you?"

  She didn't miss the warning look Jones shot the other man.

  "Not to worry, miss. Laconos government very friendly to tourists."

  Not so friendly, Ana thought, if they were responsible for wounding the man they sought. Rather than voicing the thought, she said disingenuously, "They must be if they're going to the trouble of trying to find an injured tourist. But I don't understand why they would be looking for him so far from shore. If he got this far, he obviously isn't hurt badly. He wouldn't need their help."

  Taking the helm from Pappy, Jones turned his back to her. But she was certain the lack of expression in his voice would be mirrored in his face. "They're just being cautious. If he got hurt in their country they're probably going to want to file a report."

  Pappy slipped from the bridge and went down the stairway. Ana didn't spare a glance for the older man, however. She needed all her wits about her to deal with Jones. "If that's all it was, why did you feel compelled to enact that little scenario for them?" She watched his back stiffen, one vertebra at a time. But his tone was even enough when he answered.

  "Just didn't figure you'd want to be delayed any more than necessary. A ship can get tangled up in a lot of red tape if government officials take an interest in it or its passengers. Might take hours to answer all the questions they have about your pl
ans and frequency of visits." He shrugged out of his shirt, tossed it aside and took the gun from his waistband and put it back in the drawer before him. With an obvious desire to change the subject, he said,

  "It's another hour to the island. Do you want to try one of the beaches?"

  "No, I think I've gotten enough sun for the day. Let's just put into port and I'll explore the city for a few hours." She didn't believe his explanation for a minute. If Jones was anxious to avoid questions with the Laconos government, it didn't have anything to do with delaying her. It was much more likely that he wanted to avoid having his ship under scrutiny.

  And right now she could only guess at the reason for that reluctance.

  * * *

  The Laconos port authority seemed to have doubled their paperwork and questions since the last time Jones had put into port there. He'd been dealing with a couple of the agents for fifteen minutes when the two men appeared to get distracted. Following the direction of their gazes, he silently cursed when he saw the object of their focus. Ann Smith was descending the plank board to the dock.

  He analyzed the subject of their fascination with a critical eye. The woman certainly wasn't beautiful, although her looks probably defined the word cute. Short straight nose, wide blue eyes and lips that had a tendency to pout when they weren't curved as they were now. Her bright head of hair gleamed in the sun. She ought to be wearing a hat. She was too fair-skinned to have built up much of a resistance to the sun.

  One of the agents made a token attempt to shift his attention back to Jones, but the other seemed unable to take his eyes from the woman approaching them. He felt a swift surge of annoyance. Was the woman being deliberately provocative, or had she always had that noticeable sway to her hips? It called a guy's attention to the very respectable curves there, and unwillingly Jones had a brief mental replay of the feel of them.

  That recollection led to another, when he'd briefly forgotten his excuses for staging that kiss and tasted her in earnest. Because he wasn't a man given to impulse, it was difficult to fathom the reasons for letting his control slip, even a little. Except that he hadn't expected the sweet, fresh flavor of her. Hadn't anticipated the spike of need that had pierced his usual impenetrable restraint. She'd taken him by surprise, and so had his response to her. And he didn't like that fact at all.