Marooned with a Millionaire

by Kristi Gold

  If Lizzie never tasted salt again, it would be too soon. At least the accommodations were first-rate, she thought as she sank farther into the garden tub, immersing herself in the warmth of fresh water.

  The bathroom was much bigger than she’d envisioned, but it made sense. A big bathroom for one big strappin’ guy with broad shoulders and large hands. Except he had narrow hips, something she’d noticed immediately while walking behind him, shamelessly scrutinizing his butt.

  She had also noticed his silver eyes because he’d had them trained on her from the beginning. Rugged was the first thought that had come to mind when she’d gotten a good look at him. His brown hair, sun-bleached on the ends, gave him a totally natural look. A good thing because she’d never gone for the kind of guy who got his highlights from a bottle. Mr. Dunlap wasn’t that kind at all. In fact, she couldn’t imagine him sitting still for a dye job, or sitting still for very long, period. She really liked his face, his healthy-looking skin. Nice and tan. But before he ruined it, someone really ought to remind him of the dangers of prolonged UV exposure. Maybe she would. Maybe she’d better not.

  Although he could use a little cleanup, a shave and haircut, Lizzie got the definite impression that beneath Jack Dunlap’s added fur there existed some interesting territory many a woman would like to explore. But not her. Of course, not her. Being the plain sort, not at all a bombshell blonde, she wasn’t really any man’s ideal, and for the most part she’d been fine with that.

  Oh, she had lots of men friends, but very few that had viewed her as a romantic prospect. Only one man, in fact. That relationship had happened a long time ago, without great success. Nothing tragic, no broken hearts. Just plain old apathy on the part of both parties. Recently she hadn’t met one guy that she’d cared to try on for size.

  Not that Jack Dunlap hadn’t jump-started a few of her fantasies. But her host was just a tad bit irritated by her presence even though he had been accommodating. She’d sensed that immediately after he’d verified for himself she wasn’t hurt. Thank the Lord she hadn’t been hurt.

  Resting her palm on her tummy, she smiled with relief. “Well, little Hank, Mommy almost did a number on us this time. But I promise, from now on, I’ll take good care of you. No more balloon flights until after you’re born. Heck, if I ever get off this boat, I might never do anything more risky than jaywalk, as long as there’s no oncoming traffic.”

  Considering she no longer had a balloon, that wouldn’t be a problem. This meant she no longer had a balloon business, either. She couldn’t afford to buy another even though she would receive some insurance money. But it wouldn’t be enough to replace it, or to pay her crew and a pilot to take over for her until after the baby was born.

  She only had limited savings left from her father’s life insurance, and that was for the baby. The rest she had used to keep the business going, the business her dad had always dreamed of owning. A dream he had never achieved.

  Hank Matheson, her beloved father, had raised Lizzie by himself since the year she’d turned four—the same year her mother had died. He’d taught her how to fly. He’d taught her a lot, the most important being that life was what you made it. No matter how tough things got, silver linings did exist. Lizzie still believed that and probably always would, even if she didn’t have a job at present.

  She supposed she could go back to being Lizzie the Makeover Artist at the salon. Less stress than owning her own business. Less money, too.

  Lizzie toyed with the necklace at her throat. The chain contained her two most prized possessions—her father’s St. Christopher medal and the heart he had given her mother on their first anniversary, four months before Lizzie’s birth. Her good-luck charms served as a reminder that everything would work out, as it always had. After all, she’d survived losing her only family. She would survive this loss, too, because in the end, she wouldn’t be alone. She would have her baby.

  A grinding sound followed by a loud curse pulled Lizzie out of her musings. Obviously Ahab was in command of some colorful language, even a few compound words she hadn’t heard except on cable-TV comedy shows.

  Maybe she should just submerse herself underwater until he calmed down from whatever had him so irate. Maybe she was responsible for his rant.

  The door flew open and the man with many curses entered the room. “Here’s your T-shirt.” He tossed it onto the cabinet where she’d laid out her clothes and underwear to dry.

  Covered only by clear water and a full-body blush, she attempted to look pleasant. “This tub is heavenly.”

  “It’s also full of water.”

  He not only cussed like a typical sailor, he also talked in codes. “Yes. That’s what you usually do. Fill it up.”

  He scowled. “I have limited fresh water on board. We have to be conservative.”

  He moved closer to the edge of the tub, and Lizzie decided then and there that if he hadn’t seen her in the altogether when he’d entered the room, he certainly could now. What the heck. She couldn’t really cover herself, and frankly she wasn’t all that inhibited when it came to her body. However, the smoldering look in his eyes made her want to roll over onto her belly, face down, to try to rid herself of the heat his presence had generated.

  Instead, she came to her knees, folded her arms on the tub’s ledge and rested her chin atop them. “I would really like some privacy, if you don’t mind.”

  “I’ve seen a naked woman before.”

  “Not this naked woman.”

  His gaze slid over her once more. “I’m not looking.”

  Could’ve fooled her. “Thanks for the T-shirt. Is there anything else?”

  He turned toward the cabinet and studied her undies. Guess he didn’t find her drawers at all satisfactory. Obviously he resented her cluttering his bathroom. Or he might just plain resent her.

  “Actually, there is something else,” he said. “Several things. First, the rules about bathing on the boat.”

  “I promise I won’t take another bath while I’m here.”

  “I doubt that.”

  “Seriously, Jack, I don’t bathe twice a day unless I happen to exert myself.”

  That brought his attention back to her. “It’s going to take us more than a day to get back to land.”

  “I didn’t think we were that far offshore.”

  “Relatively speaking, we’re not. But we have a few problems.”

  From the stony look on his face, Lizzie wasn’t sure she wanted to hear about their problems. But she guessed she might as well. “What’s wrong?”

  He rolled his neck on his shoulders, obviously dealing with a pain perhaps directly associated with her. “First of all, I went to check on the mast, to see if you did any damage. When I raised the sail, it blew out. The jib might catch some wind, if there was any, but there’s not much to speak of. And to top it off, the sails won’t come down because the block was damaged when you hit the mast.”

  “Oh.” It was all she could think to say. “Surely the Coast Guard will be here soon.”

  “Not likely.”

  “Didn’t you call them?”

  “I tried. Your little basket took out the radio antenna.”

  She frowned. “Oh, so that’s what that was.”

  “Yeah, that’s what that was. I have no way to communicate with anyone.”

  Surely things weren’t as dire as he had made them out to be. “Doesn’t this boat have some sort of an engine?”

  “Under normal circumstances, yes. But I have no power since something’s caught up on the prop. Would you happen to know what that could be?”

  “You did cut the cables, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What about the tether lines?”

  “Tether lines?”

  Uh-oh. “The ones that hang from the gondola. They tie down the balloon once you’re grounded.”

  His scowl made her want to shrivel and shrink. “Great. Thanks for telling me.” He turned toward the door but before exiting
faced her again. “Take your time, princess. Might be your last soak for a long while.”

  The nerve of him, calling her princess. Nobody called her that and got away with it. She stood without regard to her nudity. “I’m quite through now, and I’m definitely not a princess.” Ahab.

  His silver eyes darkened as he gave her a lingering once-over, from chin to thighs, pausing at intimate places in between. “I could argue that point, but right now I have other things to do.”

  Then he was gone, leaving her dripping, naked and totally bumfuzzled. Full of questions she needed answered now, whether he liked it or not.

  Princess. Ha! She’d just have to show him that when backed into a corner, Queen Elizabeth could be a royal pain in the posterior.

  Two

  Lizzie grabbed the towel hanging from the bar at the end of the tub and quickly dried. She shoved the T-shirt over her head, thankful it was long enough to provide adequate cover. Refusing to wear soggy panties, she stomped out of the bathroom, barefoot and covered only in thin cotton. If she hadn’t lost her canvas slides during the swim, then she could give Ahab a swift kick in his great-looking butt for good measure.

  As she left the bathroom in search of the salty seadog, she tried to tell herself that she understood his frustration, his snippy attitude. He’d been minding his own business, bothering no one, until she’d dropped in unannounced. But did he really have to be so nasty? She couldn’t help that he’d been the only thing in sight when she’d made her emergency landing. And a nice landing it was, even if he didn’t appreciate it. After all, she could’ve landed on his precious deck and swamped the entire boat, then where would he be? Quite possibly on the bottom of the ocean, and so would she.

  She searched the living area but didn’t find him anywhere. When she started for the closed door at the rear of the boat, the sound of footsteps above drew her up the steps. By Bess, he was going to talk to her even if she had to sit on him. Now that might be fun.

  Naughty, naughty girl, Lizzie, she silently scolded as she strode to her destination with wavering purpose, a little nervous over the prospect of facing his wrath. But that would not deter her. When she surfaced on the deck, she noticed the sun had all but set, providing just enough light where she could see him striding to the back of the boat, something silver clutched in his hand.

  A gun? What was he doing with a gun?

  Lord, no!

  Driven by a need to prevent his demise, Lizzie ran toward him, hoping she wasn’t too late. When she reached the platform, she screamed, “Don’t do it!” to his back.

  “Sorry, but I have to,” he muttered, and without turning around, he aimed the gun and unloaded bullets into the water several times.

  Lizzie stood stunned, wondering what in the heck he had killed. Some unsuspecting fish? Dinner? Gosh, she was hungry. No time to consider that now.

  He fisted his free hand at his side and clutched the gun in his other. “I’ll be a son of a…. Damn it straight to…” He blew out an angry breath.

  It was perhaps the most skilled censorship she’d ever witnessed from a man. A nice thing, Lizzie decided. She didn’t want Baby Hank exposed to too much foul language.

  After walking to Jack’s side, she saw nothing but a carousel of bubbles floating on the water’s surface. “What did you murder?”

  “Your basket. The thing wouldn’t go away.”

  She braced her hands on her hips and stared at him with ire. “Was it really bothering anything? I mean, that poor defenseless gondola has witnessed marriage engagements, golden anniversary celebrations, played host to Boy Scouts. Now you’ve sent it to dark, watery depths to become fish food.”

  “The fish won’t touch it.”

  “Then explain to me what harm it was doing, hanging on to your boat?”

  He crouched with the gun gripped in his hand between his parted knees and his eyes focused on the sea. “Probably no real harm.”

  “See there—”

  “Until I shot it.”

  Now she was really confused. “I don’t understand.”

  He rose and tucked the gun into the back waistband of his jeans. “I heard something scrape. I think I just sheared off the damn prop.”

  Served him right. “It wasn’t working anyway. And don’t you have a spare?”

  Wrong thing to say, Lizzie realized when his steely gaze snapped to hers. Had it not been for the baby, she might have dived overboard and tried to make it to shore on her own.

  “This isn’t Oz,” he said in a low, tempered voice. “No magic here. This is serious business, Dorothy.”

  Dorothy? Wasn’t he just the funny man tonight. Two could play that pet-name game. “And it called for killing the gondola, Ahab?”

  “I did what I had to do.”

  Lizzie knew what she wanted to do—sock him. But she deplored violence, and guns, so she settled for a direct verbal assault. “Well, I wish I would’ve brought my little dog, Toto. I would’ve sent him into attack mode. For protection, of course.”

  His frown deepened. “You don’t need protection from me, I assure you.” He held up his gun. “I’ve never had to use this before, but it’s necessary when you’re out to sea alone. Unfortunately, I just wasted all my bullets.”

  She laid a dramatic hand across her forehead. “For a minute there I thought you might put your poor disabled boat out of its misery, or use it on yourself in a moment of desperation.”

  “You thought wrong.” He angled toward her and studied her long and hard. “What you did a minute ago, chasing after me knowing I was armed, wasn’t a very smart thing to do. For all you knew, I could’ve meant to harm you.”

  “You could’ve done that by not saving me earlier, but you rescued me anyway. So I figured you wouldn’t murder me, even if you did massacre Bessie.”

  “Bessie?”

  “My balloon. And that wasn’t too smart, either.”

  “It’s an inanimate object, Dorothy.”

  “An inanimate object with propane tanks, Ahab. You could’ve blown us back to Kansas.”

  He hinted at a smile, but it didn’t form all the way. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “And I wasn’t exactly thinking when I rushed at you knowing you had the gun. I only knew I didn’t want you to hurt yourself.”

  He took a step closer. “Why?”

  A weird question. “Because everyone deserves to live, even if they are a bit cranky.”

  He took one more step. “Cranky?”

  She couldn’t exactly back up without being obvious, and for some reason she didn’t really want to. “Yeah. Cranky. Not that you don’t have a reason to be a bit put out.” She studied her bare feet, unable to look at him directly, not with him so close that she could count the whiskers on his chin and the character lines around his assessing eyes. “I’m sorry. Really I am. I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me and Hank.”

  “Hank?”

  She raised her gaze to his and smiled. “My baby.”

  He looked as though she’d announced she intended to birth a skunk. “You call your baby Hank? For God’s sake, why?”

  “My father’s name was Hank. He died almost two years ago. I’ve never known a stronger, kinder man.”

  Lizzie saw a glimpse of guilt in Jack’s eyes before his gaze dropped to her belly. “Then you know it’s a boy?”

  “No. I only confirmed the pregnancy this morning, so it’s too soon to tell.” And what a way to celebrate the news, stranded with a sullen sailor. “But I hope it’s a boy. Not that I don’t like girls. I’ve just always gotten along better with men.”

  His features mellowed, from staid to a tad less stoic. “That’s good to know considering I’m a man, and you’re a woman, and we’re going to be spending a lot of time together. In very close quarters.”

  Had that really sounded like a sexy, sinful guarantee? No way, Lizzie thought. No how. Not her and him. “Then we’re really—”

  “Stuck. Together.” A slight smile surf
aced. “You and me, babe. Until someone happens to come along.”

  First princess, now babe. He had a lot to learn about her dislikes, and she was more than willing to teach him. “I am not a babe, and doesn’t anyone know where you are?”

  Any inkling of a smile disappeared from his face. “I haven’t talked to anyone for a year, except for a few people in port, and now you.”

  A year? Had he been without a woman for a year? The prospect that her virtue might be in peril momentarily crossed Lizzie’s mind, and yes, somewhat excited her, but he really didn’t seem to be in an amorous mood. Except for his proximity. Except for his eyes. He kept looking at her in a way that made her flesh threaten to crawl up her neck and over her head, pleasantly so. In fact, just thinking about him making love to her doused her whole body in slow, scrumptious heat. How goofy to even consider that. Obviously she had been visited by the hormone fairies.

  Lizzie snapped her thoughts back on the situation at hand. “I’m sure Walker will send someone out to look for me.”

  Finally, he put some distance between them. Now Lizzie could breathe normally instead of pant.

  “Who is Walker? Your car?”

  “Ha, ha. The head of the chase crew.”

  He looked hopeful. “And he saw you drifting?”

  “As far as I know, he did. When I came awake, I tried to contact him but I couldn’t pick anything up on my radio. That leads me to believe I drifted farther off course than I’d realized.”

  “You have a radio?”

  “I did. It’s kind of submersed at the moment.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to rely on your good fortune.”

  “Or yours.”

  He looked altogether too serious, and almost sorrowful. “Apparently my good fortune ran out a while ago.”

  Lizzie didn’t dare ask what life-altering event had driven him onto his boat, by himself, for months, away from all humanity. She’d already done enough damage for one day; no need to rock the boat, figuratively speaking. “Okay. I’m fairly lucky most of the time.”

  “Good, because the last time I checked the weather, there was a storm heading our way. That’s the reason I was returning to port.”