Desire: Ten sizzling, romantic tales for Valentine’s Day!

by Opal Carew

  “That’s all right. I’ll entertain myself by watching you handle the stick and being jealous.” He grinned.

  Just then, Waverly heard voices outside the broken door. Maybe someone on staff had noticed the damage. Oops.

  Except they weren’t speaking Spanish.

  Archer noticed that, too. He put his finger over his lips and stepped between her and the door.

  Without wasting a second, Waverly grabbed the gun off the nightstand and unpacked her bullets. She had not found Archer again, and begun to make things right, just to get jumped by some street thugs who might do more than steal their wallets.

  Archer was wealthy. That made him a target wherever he went.

  Confirming her suspicions, the dresser rocked. They were trying to get in.

  Chapter 15

  “You need anything else out of there?” Archer pointed to her suitcase.

  “No.”

  “Then I think we’re going to have to go out the back way.” He lifted his chin toward the rickety fire escape outside the window. At least it had that.

  She nodded.

  They hadn’t made it there before the door splintered and two guys toppled in over the tipped furniture.

  “Get the window open!” he shouted. No use for subtlety now. “I’ll take care of them.”

  She thought that was an odd call given that she was holding a gun, but there wasn’t any time to sit there and bicker. So she yanked on the window.

  Painted shut, of course.

  Waverly wrapped one of her discarded shirts around her fist and the pistol, then smashed the window as she’d been taught. She knocked out the remaining glass as best she could, then turned back to Archer. He had a mean right hook, she noted, as if this were just another training maneuver.

  Shaking off shards of glass and the shirt covering her weapon, she leveled it at the intruders.

  “Stop!” she shouted. “Or I will shoot.”

  They hesitated long enough for Archer to sprint to the window and dive out, testing the rusty fire escape. Fortunately, it held. He stuck his hand through the opening a moment later and helped her climb through with only minor scratches.

  When they hit the street level, they ran around to the front of the hotel, screaming for Captain Alex’s officer to get his ass in gear. To his credit, he didn’t ask questions, simply kept up as they made their way to the rental car Archer had left in the lot across the street.

  He drove. She sat shotgun, her pistol ready yet held out of sight as they tore down the street toward the airport.

  “Guys?” The officer tried a few times to buckle his seatbelt then gave up as Archer flew around corners like he was driving that Lamborghini Banks had promised him.

  “Did you see two men come inside just now? One about my height, the other six inches shorter? Both on the bruiser side of the spectrum?”

  “Uh…maybe?” the officer, Ted, stammered.

  What was up with that?

  Was he in on whatever had almost happened? Or had he been sleeping on the job?

  Archer looked at her, shooting her a look that clearly said stay alert.

  Yep. No problem there.

  She probably had enough adrenaline in her system between the orgasms he’d given her and the scare the bad guys had given her to keep her awake for a week. Her fingers drummed on her knee.

  After ten miles, winding through dense city streets, Archer slowed. There hadn’t been a single sign of the guys from the hotel or any other pursuit, so they started to relax. At least she calmed down from, say, a nine-point-five on the Oh Shit scale to a solid seven.

  Bad luck? Could be. Nothing to completely freak out about. Right?

  Waverly laughed internally at that. How fucked up did your life have to be that after having your afterglow snuffed out by muggers you thought hey, that wasn’t so awful?

  “What’s funny about this?” Archer threw up one hand while the other guided the car proficiently through traffic. He was a great driver.

  That had her squirming in her seat.

  He peered at her weapon, shaking his head.

  “Are you intimated by the size of my gun, Archer?” She spared a glance at him, lifting one brow dramatically.

  “Only when you aim it at me.” Now he was laughing, too. “You know this is not normal right? You’re not supposed to enjoy yourself when you’re being chased by thugs.”

  “Eh. I’ve lived through worse.”

  He slid his free hand to her and squeezed her thigh before returning it to the wheel. Then he addressed the bewildered and slightly green officer in the backseat. “Hey, Ted. Get Banks on the phone. Tell him you’re going to need a ride home in a second chopper since ours is a two-seater. You’ll have to take it to Aruba, and we’ll send a tender in for you, since Waverly will be on our pad. Make sure he has something ready for her to eat as soon as we land. Also, I need him to settle up Waverly’s hotel bill and pay for some damage.”

  The guy nodded and took care of the details.

  Waverly almost mentioned that she could make two trips to transport Archer and then Ted, but she figured it was for the best if she didn’t. Obviously that was where Archer was going with this, too.

  But was he concerned for her or did he want her to himself when they got back?

  She figured she knew the answer to that when he only stopped long enough to clean out the mini bags of peanuts from a vending machine in the crew lounge at the private airport before hustling her out onto the launch pad. “Let’s get you the hell away from here.”

  When they were safely tucked into his helicopter, she paused to toss back a few handfuls of the snack he’d given her. With her mouth full of nuts, she said, “Mmm, salty. Probably not the kind you imagined me eating when you asked about sky head, huh?”

  Though he laughed, he was still tense, so she tried again.

  “Feel free to show me how you handle your stick while I play with this one.” She winked at him as she fired up the engines.

  It might have sounded flippant, but if she didn’t joke, she might freak out. What the hell was happening? Who would have thought active duty would have been less dramatic than retirement?

  “Definitely no distractions today. Take us home, please, Waverly.”

  Once they were airborne, she took a moment to appreciate the view. It never failed to amaze her. Archer had the sea. This was her world, and she loved it every bit as much.

  “How mad is Miguel going to be that you got to fly with me before he did?” she asked over the headset as they picked up speed, flying directly toward the ever-changing coordinates sent to her by the Divemaster’s systems.

  Landing on a moving target was always an exciting challenge. One she was more than capable of executing even in her current condition.

  “He’ll probably get over it by the time we turn fifty.” Archer didn’t seem too disturbed.

  Miles of gorgeous blue water streaked beneath them as they raced back to the Divemaster. Lost in the familiar rhythm of flying and the gorgeous landscape they zipped through, Waverly felt like their trip had just begun when her instruments told her the Divemaster would be in sight any moment.

  Archer finally broke the silence. “I’ve never seen something up top come close to being as beautiful as what I see underwater.” When she glanced over, he wasn’t looking at the spectacular scenery or the megayacht where he did good while having fun.

  He was staring at her.

  Chapter 16

  “Do you still need me to fly you somewhere this afternoon?” Waverly asked the next day as she emerged from their over-the-top bathroom, which could easily have passed for a high-end spa. Funny, he didn’t think of it as his quarters anymore. Overnight, she’d changed his perspective on everything.

  It felt right when she shared his space. Less lonesome and wasteful.

  For the first time, he found himself actually enjoying the deluxe appointments, proud he could ensure her comfort and pamper her as she deserved.

  Na
ked, she tipped her upper body to one side so to blot water from the long length of her hair with a thick towel. The motion put her perfect-handful breasts and the soft dip of her waist on display. She didn’t resemble models he’d seen in either fashion or jack-off mags. Not overly voluptuous or stick-thin, either.

  That didn’t matter. To him, she was the ideal woman. Her fit and healthy proportions had him regretting his decision not to shower with her. Except he’d had to finish arranging some final details before they left.

  “Yeah, if you don’t mind.” He made sure she couldn’t see his face when he replied. Didn’t want to give any of his plans away. Unlike most people, she knew him well enough to recognize when he wasn’t being entirely upfront.

  She laughed. “You’re the boss, Archer. Literally.”

  “Should I fire you?” he asked, in all seriousness. It had been weighing on his mind as the connection between them strengthened, turning into something precious that he was afraid to sever with bullshit like this. “I mean, I don’t want you to think of me as your employer. We’re equals, Waverly. In our relationship, and in what we do here on the Divemaster.”

  “It’s up to you.” She strolled over to him then, probably intending to use her nudity to her advantage, though he didn’t mind. It was a highly effective strategy. After placing a quick kiss on his cheek, she said. “Let me put it this way…you know how even if you never got paid for it, you’d keep diving?”

  He nodded, reaching for her hip.

  She slapped his fingers away then abandoned him in favor of rummaging through the dresser, which also meant her ass was on display for him to ogle. Banks had waved his fairy godfather wand or something, sending one of the housekeeping staff on a shopping spree at his request. They’d stocked her wardrobe with sundresses, bikinis, and killer underwear so she had selections beyond her Banks Foundation uniform.

  “Archer?”

  He had to think back for a moment as he watched her shimmy into a skimpy pair of panties. He was going to order Banks to give himself a giant Christmas bonus this year. “Yes? Of course, I love diving. Doing it for a living was really just a way to survive while I did what I wanted anyway.”

  “Flying is the same for me. Except I need an aircraft to pilot. So as long as you supply that, I’ll gladly schlep you anywhere you want to go. Because it means I get to do what I love most.” She smiled slowly at him then as she finished clasping the bra he already couldn’t wait to peel off her later. “Make that second most.”

  It was going to be harder than he had thought to keep his hands to himself until they arrived at their destination.

  “Okay. If you’re going to do the work regardless, you deserve to be paid for it. But I need you to understand that I don’t see you as hired help. In fact…” An idea came to him then.

  “Yes?”

  “How about you ditch that uniform? I feel kind of sleazy lusting after you when you’re wearing it.” He wouldn’t tell her about his true stroke of genius until he’d already made it official. That way, she couldn’t argue. Or refuse.

  “I bet you wouldn’t complain if I found a French maid outfit in here, though.”

  Archer thought of her in seamed stockings. He’d bend her over, flip up her skirt, and… “Banks didn’t really put one in there, did he?”

  “No!” She slapped her hand over her mouth. “But I bet one of the housekeeping staff has a feather duster I could borrow when we get back.”

  If they had enough energy for roleplaying tonight, it would probably mean his plan had been an epic failure. “We’ll see.”

  “Where’s your sense of adventure?” she asked him as she ducked into a short, silky dress that looked like an oversized handkerchief. It left her sexy legs—and a good amount of her cleavage—exposed. Fine by him.

  Hell, he’d have no problem with her walking around naked all the time.

  Maybe he’d have to talk to Banks about filling one of their tours with nudists.

  “Ready?” he asked, eager to be on their way.

  She plucked her sunglasses and a big floppy hat from a table near the door, then said, “Yep. Where am I taking you anyway?”

  “There’s a small group of people subsistence living not too far from here. One of the other arms of the Banks Foundation will be supporting indigenous people who would rather continue their traditions than modernize. Since we’re in the area anyway, we’re going to take some supplies and medical aid over to them.”

  “Sounds good to me. Not that different than what I used to do in the Navy sometimes.” Waverly shot him a stare so full of warmth he felt it heat his entire body. This time it wasn’t the lusty sort either. Or not only that. It was something more profound.

  “What?” he asked as he opened the door and ushered her out.

  “Think of how many people in the world are going to be impacted positively because of you.” She linked her arm with his as they wound their way through the yacht on their path to the helipad.

  He shrugged, kind of uncomfortable with that assessment. “It’s not because of me. It’s because of my father’s money. Considering how many people probably suffered or were fucked over so he could amass that pile of cash, it seems only right.”

  “Even so, we both know that just because something should happen doesn’t mean it will happen.” She turned him toward her, then pulled him down for a long, lingering kiss. “You’re really doing it, Archer. Making this happen.”

  “All I did was sign a bunch of papers. Banks is the hero, not me.”

  She whispered up at him then, thinking about how he’d saved her more than a decade ago even if she hadn’t known it then. “You’ll always be my hero.”

  “I’ll do my best for you, Waverly.”

  With a pat on his cheek, she turned and they continued walking in no hurry, pausing in several of the common areas to talk to passengers who’d gone diving with him over the past few weeks and waved hello to others they were also coming to know from shared meals or simply living on the Divemaster together for a while.

  As a freelance divemaster, Archer’s clients usually hadn’t stuck around more than a week or two at most. Though some came back year after year to the same resorts, he, Tosin, and Miguel hadn’t been there the next time they returned.

  This was different. He was learning about each of the people temporarily living onboard and coming to care, especially when they shared some of the heartbreaking details of their loved ones’ health crises.

  It made them more real to him. More than tourists passing through.

  He was starting to feel like his nomad days were over. Sure, the Divemaster moved for him. But he could no longer imagine himself leaving her behind for another place he couldn’t grow some roots.

  It would be kind of sad when the passengers who’d taken this maiden voyage with them switched out with the next group of guests. Then again, it was wonderful to see how much they’d relaxed in the time they’d been onboard. How many more smiles were exchanged than when they’d first arrived.

  Some of the passengers had taken it upon themselves, with help from Banks, to organize their own support group meetings in the evenings and had plans to start up a virtual edition on social media so they could keep in touch after they went home. One good deed expanded and grew, picking up momentum as it went.

  Archer thought they might actually be making a difference, however small, in these people’s lives, and he couldn’t wait to see who Banks would bring in next and what they could do to help them.

  Caught in an introspective mood, he soon found himself relaxing in the passenger seat of the helicopter as Waverly did her thing. He didn’t feel the need to scrutinize her or ask if she felt everything was okay. He was like the blissfully ignorant subset of clients who’d relied on him to lead their dives.

  He trusted her, absolutely, with his life.

  So he didn’t bug her before or during takeoff, limiting his glances in her direction to the ones he needed to keep his stiffening dick happy.r />
  “I wonder if I’m going to have a hard-on every time I fly with you. So far we’re two for two.” He might have caught her off guard with that statement, but though she risked a glimpse at the tent in his shorts, she didn’t so much as bobble the stick. “It’s sexy, watching you like this. Confident, competent, totally badass. Miguel was right about that.”

  “Thanks, Archer.” She flashed him one of her dazzling smiles as they began to accelerate toward their target. “That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

  He was saved from responding when a charcoal wedge appeared on the horizon. It grew bigger as they flew in that direction.

  “Is that someone from the Divemaster?” She pointed at what turned out to be a Zodiac—an inflatable motorboat—which bounced along the waves, hauling ass in the opposite direction from where they were headed.

  Considering they were out in the middle of nowhere, relatively, he figured it wouldn’t make any sense to deny it. He grunted, thinking they’d cut things close. “Yeah. I think it’s Tosin and Miguel. They said something about going fishing earlier.”

  “I wonder why they didn’t cast off the yacht.” She shrugged.

  Because they hadn’t really been fishing. Archer crossed his fingers and hoped she wouldn’t be pissed at him when she realized that he’d fibbed.

  “Mind if I have a little fun now that you’re pretty sure I’m not going to kill us?” she asked. “We have plenty of extra fuel for this run.”

  “Does that mean you’re going to show me what this thing can really do?” Archer teased. “I wasn’t going to point out that you drive like a grandma…”

  That might have been the wrong thing to say.

  Waverly screeched, then muttered, “I’ll show you a granny.”

  She did a pretty good job of making sure he’d never malign her again with a daring swoop that brought them low over the waves as they circled back. Soon they buzzed Tosin and Miguel.

  It got even better when Miguel stumbled at their unexpected nearness, and fell overboard with a splash. They zipped around like a gnat, crisscrossing the air over the guys until they were sure Miguel had climbed in safe and sound—if soaked—once more.