“Most likely they have dry bags.”
“God, I hate how you have an answer for everything.”
Javi remained silent. He’d started to come back with he hated how she questioned his every plan, but truthfully having her to kick things around with wasn’t such a bad thing. What did it hurt to look at things in a new light?
She ran her hand along the sand, found a rock and tossed it toward the fire. “What if the pirates kill Joan and Debbie before they leave Spree?”
“Why would they?”
“I don’t know,” she said, frustration making her voice rise. “Why do evil people do anything?”
“Greed,” Javi said. “Revenge sometimes, but usually greed.”
“Greed.” She nodded. “Yeah, I wouldn’t be in this mess if it weren’t for greed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“That’s why Brad left Debbie,” Irish said. “For a new rich wife. We came on this holiday to cheer her up.”
“Oh,” Javi said, remembering the talk among the women about someone’s cheating ex. “Maybe. I have to think Debbie would be hard to live with, though.”
Irish shot him an outraged look, eyes narrowed. “Hey, she doesn’t deserve to die because she can be bitchy.”
“Sorry,” he said, holding up a hand. “Bad choice of words.”
She settled her head against the wall again, arms drawing her knees protectively to her chest. “I know what you mean, though. I’ve been feeling guilty about how irritated I’ve been with her on this trip. Deb’s usually not so...difficult. I don’t want to remember her being a big...pain.”
Her voice broke on the last word, and Javi’s gut clenched. Irish was about to start sobbing, something she thankfully hadn’t done yet. So far, she’d remained strong, but she had to be close to despair. He hated that idea.
“Don’t cry,” he said, his voice sharper than he’d intended.
“I’m not crying.” She placed her forehead on her bended knees in an attempt to hide the fact that she was doing exactly that.
“You can’t fall apart on me now, Irish.” He’d gone for a softer tone, but instead his words came out pleading. He swallowed and tried again. “I need you to stay focused,” he said as another peal of thunder sounded.
She raised her head and placed her chin on her knees. The firelight reflected off her damp cheeks, and he silently cursed. He had to come up with something comforting, but what?
“I just hate—” she took a deep, shaky breath “—that Deb’s last days were so unhappy.”
“Hey.” Javi placed an arm around Irish and pulled her head to his shoulder. “Don’t think that way. These weren’t—aren’t—her last days.”
* * *
CAT CLOSED HER eyes and forced herself to take deep inhalations. Javi was right. She needed to get her emotions under control. Crying never solved anyone’s problems.
She wanted nothing more than to believe what Javi was telling her. But how could she?
His bumbling attempt to comfort her was a small thing, but the fact that he even tried meant a lot. A whole lot. Thinking back to her first day on Spree, she could never imagine sitting beside Captain Bligh as he hugged her, stroking her arm in solace.
“If our plan succeeds,” he said, “you and Deb will have the opportunity to make a lot more memories. Good ones.”
“Yeah, well, that’s a big if,” she said, wiping the tears from her cheeks.
“I’m doing my best here, Cat.”
His calm voice fell over her like a warm blanket, soothing her frazzled nerves. But also creating a twinge of guilt.
“I know,” she whispered. “And I’m not helping, am I?”
“You’re doing great.” He lightly kissed her hair, and rested his head on hers. That simple gesture brought tears to her eyes again. She blinked them away. Javi needed her to behave like an adult. He needed her help. She couldn’t hide behind the potato chips again.
But she didn’t move, wanting to absorb Javi’s strength, his warmth, for a little while longer. Strange how she should feel that his arms offered her shelter.
Any port in a storm?
Was that it? Would any other human being make her feel safe? No. If the situation were different—say, if she were stranded on this island with Joan or Debbie—their presence wouldn’t reassure her the way Javi’s did. Her own father certainly wouldn’t provide much comfort.
Fictional superheroes aside, she couldn’t think of any other man who had a chance of getting them out of this horrific, scary predicament safely. Not without a working gun.
“You should try to sleep,” he said. They sat so close she felt the rumble of his voice deep in his chest.
“Not yet,” she said. “Soon.”
Another log on the fire shifted and sent sparks toward the ceiling again, making her aware that the flames had diminished. She ought to get up and add wood. That was something she could actually do.
Before she could offer, Javi got to his feet. He stoked their fire, adding fuel, making the flames rise again. She felt out of time, like they were ancient cave dwellers tending the hearth. Like he was her man and she was his woman.
When he was satisfied with his efforts, he faced her again, smiling. He opened his mouth to speak when a flash of lightning illuminated surprise on his chiseled face. A huge crack of thunder followed immediately, and she shrieked her surprise.
She was laughing at herself by the time he rejoined her.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Just startled. I didn’t mean to scream.” She shook her head. “Be careful what you wish for.”
“What are you talking about now?”
“Believe it or not, I came on this trip because I wanted an adventure.”
“Yeah? Well, I guess you got one.”
She jumped at another streak of light, which was quickly followed by a booming peal of thunder.
Cat edged closer to Javi. “The storm must be right on top of us,” she said, tucking her arm inside his. She was seriously considering climbing into his lap.
He put his arm around her shoulders, gathering her close. The rain tattooed against the sides of the structure. The wind shifted, strengthened, and rain blew through the window opening, bringing smoke from their fire into their faces.
Cat coughed. Mist cooled her face, and within seconds her T-shirt was damp again. Great. She had hoped to peel off this ridiculously tight bathing suit so she might actually get comfortable and be able to catch some sleep before their trip back to Spree. Its design wasn’t a true thong, but high enough. And sand had worked its way inside the fabric and chafed against her sensitive skin with every movement.
But now her shirt was wet again.
Javi jumped to his feet and reached an arm to her. “Let’s move.”
They relocated to a wall out of the wind, but the ground was cold beneath her, ditto the wall behind her. Plus, they were now farther away from the fire and the temperature had dropped at least ten degrees. The wind and rain worked against Javi’s efforts to keep the flames roaring. If the storm lasted much longer, their fire would likely go out.
“I’d hate to be outside in this mess,” she murmured.
“We’d be soaked and miserable,” he agreed.
The rain drummed steadily on the roof. “I used to love to listen to the sound of rain while safe and dry inside.”
“Me, too,” Javi said.
She smiled at him. Neither one of them needed to voice the obvious, that right now they didn’t feel safe. Or dry.
“Thanks for making me move to shelter.”
“You’re welcome.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you get tired of always being right?”
“It can be a burden at times,” he said, his voice teasing
.
She lightly punched his arm.
“Violence, Irish?” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips.
She shivered when he kissed her open palm.
“Chilled?” he asked softly.
“No. Yes. Maybe.”
“That’s very helpful.”
She smiled and leaned against the wall. If only she’d met Javi under different circumstances.
“Will Spree be okay in this weather?” she asked. “Seems like the mast would be a perfect target for lightning to hit.”
“Spree is grounded through the keel. We’re probably in more danger here.” He looked up. “I doubt if there’s a lightning rod.”
“Great. Something else to worry about.”
Another flash of light lit up his face, and she could see unease in the set of his jaw.
“What’s wrong?” she demanded after the thunder quieted.
He glanced at her, and she knew he was deciding how much to tell her. Maybe she’d shed a few tears, but she refused to let him treat her like a child.
“Come on, Javi,” she said. “I need to know the truth.”
“The storm might ruin our plan.”
She raised her brows. “How could anything go wrong with that foolproof plan? Explain.”
“Because of the weather, I’m worried Spree’s anchor could drag.”
Cat pictured the anchorage, the direction the boat would drift if the anchor broke free.
“Spree would run aground,” she said. “Considering the direction of the wind, probably on those rocks we avoided on the way in.”
Javi nodded.
“But that sounds good to me,” she said. “Isn’t that basically what we want, to impair Spree so they can’t leave? I know it would damage the hull, but—”
“But the pirates might take action to prevent that from happening.”
“Like what? Oh, shit. You mean they might have left before the storm hit?”
“Maybe.”
“So Spree could already be gone.”
He shrugged. “We’ll go check as soon as the rain stops.”
“You said it wouldn’t be safe for them to leave at night.”
“It’s not, but crashing onto rocks isn’t safe, either. I’m sure the pirates know that much. They managed to get to this anchorage.”
She nodded. And if Spree had left, that was the end of Joan and Debbie. No question Javi was right about that.
If they weren’t already dead. Cat pushed away that thought.
“What would you do if you were aboard when the storm hit?”
“I’d planned to set a second anchor as insurance. Another strategy is to use the engine to take some of the pull off where the anchor is dug in.”
Cat nodded. Opposing forces counteracting each other would hold Spree in place. She could see how that would work during the height of the storm.
She jumped at another flash of lightning. Like right now. What was happening aboard Spree?
“And if they know to do that, they might decide to leave the area as a precaution,” Javi continued. “Especially if they’re familiar with these waters and know where to go.”
Javi rose and tossed the last of the wood onto the dying flames. The fire greedily ate at the new fuel. No point in gathering more since anything outside would now be too waterlogged to burn.
When the fire went out, they’d be totally in the dark.
“Matters keep getting worse and worse, don’t they?” she said when he’d rejoined her.
“We’re still alive,” he said. “And we’re going to stay that way.”
“You sound like a cheerleader.” She leaned her head on his shoulder, something that was getting easy to do. “Thanks for the pep talk.”
A gust entered the structure, flickering the flames, blowing hair off her face. Javi draped an arm around her.
“I’m dying to know if Spree is still here,” Cat said.
“Do you want me to hike back and check now? It would be one less thing for you to worry about.”
Surprised, she raised her head, and found him gazing steadily at her, waiting for an answer. He was serious.
“You’d do that just to ease my mind?”
“There’s not much I wouldn’t do for you, Irish,” he said softly. “Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CAT’S EYES WIDENED, and Javi resisted a sudden strong urge to kiss her. Thoroughly. As if that would help anything.
Although it might make them both feel better.
“No, I hadn’t figured that out,” she said, holding his gaze.
He’d intended to tell her the hike would satisfy his own curiosity about Spree’s location. Instead, some weird truth came out.
He would do anything within his power to make her feel better.
And why was that? Because he was the captain and this whole situation was his fault?
Or something more because they’d been intimate?
No, it wasn’t just the sex. His feelings about Irish were complicated. Too complicated to figure out under the present circumstances, that’s for damn sure. And once he’d regained control of Spree, he’d likely never see her again. So what did it matter?
Her beautiful mouth—the lips he still wanted to kiss—curved into a slow smile.
She took his hand, linked their fingers and squeezed. “Thank you for that.”
Javi swallowed. Maybe she was reading more into his statement than he’d intended.
It wasn’t like him to say things before he’d thought them out.
“But I can wait until the rain stops,” she said.
“Good enough,” he said. Perhaps the stress was getting to him, making his thinking fuzzy. He needed rest, but agreed it’d be difficult to find sleep.
Still smiling, she refocused on the fire. “Debbie would never believe our strict Captain Bligh could be so sweet.”
Irish’s smile faded. Her friend’s name hung in the air between them, altering her mood.
“So you three considered me Captain Bligh?” he asked, hoping to distract her for a moment.
She nodded. “It was the shoes.”
“What shoes?”
“You wouldn’t let her on deck with her stilettoes. Remember?”
“Oh. Right.”
“That seems like a long time ago,” she said.
“Yeah.” But it was only three days. It didn’t seem possible that he had known this woman for only three days.
“A decade at least,” she said.
Another blast of wind blew an object against the wall right behind them. Irish tensed, darting a look that direction, then relaxed, shaking her head. The rain continued to beat against the roof. The wind keened around the corners of the building. But its direction had changed so that gusts no longer rushed inside their sanctuary. The worst had moved past them. What was left of the fire burned steadily.
“Lie down with me, Irish.”
She turned her head and met his gaze.
“I want to hold you for a while,” he said. “Maybe you can rest.”
She scooted away from him and extended her body along the ground, facing their fire. He lay behind her, spooning her against his groin, briefly considering the wisdom of that position. But he placed his arm protectively around her and closed his eyes, finding the rhythm of her breath, the too-rapid tattoo of her heart.
With each inhalation, he became more aware of the mysterious fragrance he associated with her skin, wondering how it survived a swim in salt water, and decided the gentle scent was somehow part of her. He liked how she felt next to him.
Until she started fidgeting.
“What?” he asked.
“We
didn’t clear the rocks in this location,” she said, pushing herself to her hands and knees. “Several are poking my ribs.”
He hadn’t noticed.
They cleared away the debris and she lay down again, snuggling in tight to his body.
“Better?” he asked.
“A little.”
He listened to the rain pound against the roof. It was still coming down hard.
“This is nice,” she said, her voice shy.
He squeezed her gently. Yeah, this was nice. As they lay together, their body heat merged, warming them both. She took a deep breath, causing her firm ass to press against his growing erection.
He wanted Irish. Actually, he couldn’t look at her without wanting to rip off that bathing suit and make love to her amazing body. How crazy was that considering their circumstances? Was that what he’d subconsciously had in mind when he’d suggested they stretch out next to each other?
But intimacy wasn’t on her radar, and he wasn’t that much of a jerk. Besides, he also wanted her to sleep. He couldn’t decide which one he needed more.
“Javi,” she said, her voice tentative.
“Yeah, babe?”
“I have to tell you something.”
“What?”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I could actually do with a laugh about now.”
She sat up and gazed down at him, her upper body supported on her arms. “This bathing suit is so tight it’s cutting into my skin at the seams. Plus, I’ve got sand in places where it really doesn’t belong.”
He swallowed.
“Sounds uncomfortable,” he said.
“I’m miserable,” she stated.
“How can I help?”
“You can’t, but I’m going to remove my bathing suit until it’s time to go back to Spree. I can’t stand it anymore.”
He grinned up at her. “Don’t let me stop you.”
She made a face, then jerked off her T-shirt and threw it at him.
He grabbed it midair and sat up. “Do you expect me to cover my eyes?”
She hesitated, then turned away from him and lowered the straps off her shoulders, peeling the fabric away from her chest.
Flames highlighted the gentle curve of her back. In the flickering light, he could see the rise of a breast. He couldn’t look away, didn’t want to look away.
Stranded with the Captain Page 14
