by Kristi Gold
“Sorry,” he said. “It won’t happen again.”
With one hand braced on the railing, Lizzie slipped the other down her side, over her hip, and back up to her waist where she planted it, as if displaying her wares. And some nice wares they were. “You’re sounding mighty sure of yourself, Ahab.”
At least he’d sounded that way. “I am. Now let’s go. It’s time for bed.”
“Is it really now?”
He balanced on releasing a very descriptive oath. “Yeah. You can sleep in my bunk, and I’ll take the fold-down sofa.”
“Isn’t your bunk big enough for both of us?” she asked in a raspy, seductive voice.
Not in this lifetime. “I’d probably roll on top of you.”
“What a horrible prospect.”
Did the woman know no shame? Did she know what she was doing to him with every innuendo she uttered? Damn straight she knew. For some bizarre reason, she’d decided to play with him, in every sense of the word. And as bad as he wanted to play, Jack wouldn’t. He couldn’t.
A woman like Lizzie needed stability, not a man who had spent his adulthood recklessly searching for adventure at every turn. She needed something solid and secure, a man who wouldn’t fail her.
His first priority—his only priority—was to keep her safe until they again reached shore. Even if he was having a helluva hard time avoiding the fantasy of making love to her.
Lizzie had never been one to put much stock in fantasies, at least where men were concerned. Yet every night since the day she’d tried to get pregnant, she had fantasized about her baby’s father. She knew only what the fertility clinic had volunteered— German heritage, mid-twenties, just over six—feet tall, brown hair, hazel eyes, a recent college graduate who happened to be very smart. Magna cum laude, in fact. She really liked that part. Not that she hadn’t been proud of her accomplishments. Just because she’d chosen the creative route instead of academics didn’t mean she couldn’t hold her own in the intelligence department. After all, she had been top in her cosmetology class. The best darned aesthetician in the whole school, as a matter of fact. She had a gift for transforming women into what they envisioned themselves to be, at least from a superficial standpoint.
Unfortunately, she’d never been able to physically transform herself, not that she’d really wanted to. She had no use for makeup. Who needed the hassle of flaking mascara and reapplying lipstick on an hourly basis? Maybe she wasn’t anything special in the looks department, but she knew who she was and what she wanted from life. She had scrimped and saved, squirreled away her tips in order to try her hand at the balloon business. With the demise of Bessie, it looked as though it might be a while before she could start over again.
No problem. She would still have her little one. She only hoped that her child would inherit her creativity and his father’s brains. A nice balance.
Lying back on the pillow in Jack’s “bunk”—which happened to be queen-size—she allowed the steady rock of the boat to lull her into bliss, but it did nothing to bring about sleep. Oh, well. She would just try to imagine the man who had fathered her child.
She saw only Jack Dunlap.
If only she could get him out of her mind. But how could she? The man was sleeping in the next cabin wearing who knew what. Maybe nothing. That consideration brought about both chills and steam running helter-skelter through her body.
How silly she’d been to think that she could actually seduce him. They certainly hadn’t taught her that technique in school. How ridiculous to believe that he would fall into her bed with the bat of an eyelash. If she chose to consider she couldn’t even entice a man who’d obviously been by himself for months, then she would definitely be depressed. So she just wouldn’t think about it at all.
But she couldn’t quit thinking about him, his handsome features, his sober demeanor, his occasional smile that could knock the floor out from under her if she hadn’t had good sense to ground her. Not to mention his strong arms earlier on the deck. Boy, had he smelled great. He’d felt great, too. And come to think of it, he’d kissed even better.
Though he hadn’t taken her up on her offer for a little night magic, he had shown some signs of life when, for reasons unbeknownst to her, he had decided to give her mouth a try. Maybe he’d been trying to shut her up.
Rolling to her side, Lizzie curled up into a ball and attempted to generate some heat. Thoughts of the good captain’s lips aided her somewhat, but she could still use some extra covers. Might not hurt to tell Ahab good-night since an hour ago he’d pointed her in the general direction of the bedroom then left her alone. She didn’t like being alone.
On that thought, she slipped out of bed and padded into the adjacent living area. The room was shrouded in darkness, the boat continued to sway and she accidentally knocked her knee on the sofa’s arm.
She stifled her urge to yell out in pain for fear that she would startle Jack, and he might have found more bullets.
“Are you awake?” she whispered.
No answer.
“Ahab?” she called, this time a bit louder.
Still no answer.
Having somewhat adjusted to the limited light, she moved toward the sofa now made into a bed and used her hands to feel for Jack, a rather pleasant prospect. He wasn’t there.
Most likely he was in the bathroom, she decided, and cautiously made her way in that direction. When she didn’t find him there, she realized there were only two possibilities—he was up on deck, or he’d abandoned ship.
Lizzie really didn’t think he would leave her alone to fend for herself. Of course, she had been known to drive people crazy, but she’d never driven anyone overboard. She supposed there was a first time for everything.
Opting to alleviate her concerns, she made her way to the deck and released a breath of relief when she found him standing with his back to her at the railing, frozen like a berg as he stared out to sea. The steady stream of clouds in the overcast sky only revealed a partial glimpse of a three-quarter moon in brief intervals. No visible stars whatsoever and the wind was eerily calm.
Yet even in the muted light he looked imposing silhouetted against the fathomless horizon, strong and forbidding. Mysterious and seductive.
With catlike steps she approached him. “Are you okay?”
At the sound of her voice, Jack tensed. He’d been tense since he’d kissed her, every bloody inch of him. And in all honesty, he was anything but okay at the moment, especially now that she’d made another unexpected appearance when he’d thought she was safely tucked into bed, asleep. His bed.
Turning, he thanked his unlucky stars that he couldn’t make out much more than her form. He didn’t need to get another good look at the ultrathin, short shirt that revealed too much leg and the outline of her breasts. But it really didn’t matter considering all that he imagined underneath her limited attire.
He cleared away the images and the hitch from his throat. “I thought I’d keep watch for a while, just in case someone saw the flares.”
She took a step forward. “No luck, I take it.”
“No, no luck. But it’s fairly foggy tonight.” The current conditions complemented his hazy mind.
“Maybe someone will come soon.” She hugged her arms tightly around her and moved closer.
The railing behind him kept Jack from backing up. He didn’t really want to back away, but it might be best before he did something incredibly insane, like kiss her again, or lay her down on the deck without formality.
“Can’t sleep?” he asked, knowing in fact that he couldn’t if his boat’s survival depended on it.
“I’m trying, but I’m a little cold. I thought maybe you might have an extra blanket I could use.”
He almost offered to keep her warm. Almost. “Yeah. In the armoire next to the bed. Top shelf.”
She hesitated a moment, the sudden silence as thick as the night mist. “Are you coming in soon?”
“In a bit.”
�
�How long is a bit?”
Surely she wasn’t going to proposition him again. If she did, he might be tempted to take her up on her offer despite the fact he shouldn’t. “I don’t know. A few more minutes, I guess. Why?”
She turned her face to one side, allowing Jack the benefit of her pleasing profile. “If I tell you why I want you inside, promise not to laugh?”
He wanted to do a lot of things. Laughing was not one of them. “I’ll try to restrain myself.” Solid advice he should heed where she was concerned.
“You’re going to think I’m a big chicken.”
Considering she’d displayed little fear after her ordeal, and she’d chosen to raise a child on her own, he could honestly say he’d never known a more courageous woman. “I seriously doubt that.”
“Yes, you will.”
“Try me.” If only he could allow that in the literal sense.
She sighed. “I really don’t like being alone.”
Funny, Jack thought, since he preferred to be alone. “You don’t live alone?”
“No…yes. I didn’t until last week. My roommate, Ian, moved in with someone else.”
“You had a male roommate?”
“A very good friend.”
“Only a friend?” Now, why had he asked that? And worse, he’d actually sounded jealous.
“Yes. You seem surprised.”
He was. Very. “Personally, I’d have a hard time living with a woman for an extended period and keeping it on a platonic level.”
“You don’t have any women friends?” Now she sounded shocked.
“No, guess not.”
“You really should try it.” He saw a flash of white teeth and heard the smile in her voice. “Maybe it would enable you to get in touch with your feminine side.”
He’d rather get in touch with her feminine side. “So were you and this Ian pretty close?”
“Yes, you could say that. Until he found the love of his life.”
From her tone, Jack wondered if she hadn’t been completely honest. Maybe she’d had a thing for this guy at one time. It was none of his business, but he had to ask. “Is he the father of your child?”
“Oh, no. It wasn’t that way between us. I worked with him at a day spa and salon, before I established my balloon business.”
“Is he gay?”
She scowled. “Not every guy who cuts hair for a living is gay.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant it seems kind of odd that you and he wouldn’t have…you know. Gotten together.”
She glanced away. “It wouldn’t have worked. Ian has always been very fond of beautiful women. His newest girlfriend is a model. So you can see why I wouldn’t be his type.”
Jack pondered that for a moment. Obviously she had little insight into her attractiveness, a basic beauty that went far beyond physical qualities, not that she was lacking in those either. Maybe she didn’t see herself as model material, but Jack sure as heck had noticed all her finer points, and she had more than a few.
She was also full of surprises. Considering her iron will, he would never have guessed that she’d have a problem with being alone. Quite different from his attitude. “I’ve personally found that it’s not so bad being by yourself. Fewer problems that way. No having to get used to another person’s habits.”
“Ian was the perfect roommate,” Lizzie said adamantly. “He was always there when I needed him.”
“But not anymore, huh?”
“Oh, he’ll always be there, just not in the same way. I’ll try to find a new roommate when I get home. Or I might wait until after the baby’s born.”
“Another guy?”
“Probably. But until then, I’ll manage just fine.”
“Then what’s the problem tonight?”
She shrugged. “I guess it’s because this is a strange place. Strange sounds and stuff. I’ll feel more comfortable knowing you’re in the next room.”
He’d only feel more comfortable with her in the next country, and his discomfort had centered itself below his belt. Right now it was all he could do not to touch her, kiss away her concern, make love to her until dawn. Maybe even after dawn.
Why the hell he wanted to do all those things, Jack couldn’t say. He barely knew her. He had yet to spend twenty-four hours with her. And she was pregnant. But he had to admit that the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d wanted her in some crazy, elemental way.
Lust, pure and simple, he tried to tell himself, even though he couldn’t recall the last time a woman had affected him so strongly. Admittedly he had desired a few women after only limited contact, but that had never gone beyond animal attraction.
Lizzie was different. Lizzie was special. Lizzie was driving him to distraction and she probably would as long as she graced his boat.
“You are cold,” he said when he noticed her slight tremor.
“Yeah, it’s a bit chilly out here, especially when you don’t have on a whole lot of clothes.”
He didn’t need to hear that, or think about it, but he did. In vivid detail. His sail suddenly went to full mast, and not the one on his boat. Even though she probably couldn’t see his current predicament, Jack turned his back to her. “I’ll be down in a few minutes. I promise.”
“Okay. I’ll be fine until then. Just stick your head in the door and let me know that you’re back.”
He’d like to do more than that. He’d like to climb into bed with her and warm her up with his hands and his mouth. “I’ll be sure to do that.” If only he could do more. He could, but he wouldn’t.
Gripping the rail, Jack let out the breath he’d been holding when he heard the sound of footfalls heading away from him.
“One more thing, Captain.”
So much for a return to normal respiration and slow deflation. “Yeah.”
“You have a really nice boat.”
“Thanks.”
“And your butt’s not so bad, either.”
“Ahab, what is this?” Lizzie called from the head the next morning.
No way was Jack going to make the same mistake again by walking in on her during her bath. “What is what?”
“This big silver bowl behind the bathroom door. It looks like some kind of a trophy.”
It was, the last he’d won before tragedy struck. The last good race. “I use it as a doorstop.” Not exactly the truth. He didn’t want the reminders so he’d hidden it away when the memories had become too overwhelming. He’d basically forgotten it was there, intentionally so.
The bathroom door creaked open and Jack braced himself for Lizzie’s appearance. Hopefully she’d put her own clothes back on.
All hope faded when she appeared before the sofa where he was now seated having his coffee and a strong urge to kiss her again. She wore his yellow polo that stopped at her thighs, but unlike the T-shirt it had a slit up each side, allowing him a glimpse of the curve of one buttock and, fortunately, her underwear. At least she had those on, not that it really mattered. She could be wearing a trench coat covering flannel pajamas and it wouldn’t make a difference to Jack and his persistent parts.
She presented him with her usual smile. “Hope you don’t mind but I rummaged around in your drawers last night.”
Jack would have definitely remembered that. “What drawers?”
“Your bathroom drawers, looking for a spare toothbrush. I found one and used it. Hope that’s okay.”
He only minded that she was way too cute to ignore. “That’s fine.”
She removed the towel wrapped like a turban around her head, bent forward and began furiously drying her blond hair. “You’d be so proud of me. I barely used any water. Just enough for a good spit and shine.”
At the moment she was giving Jack quite a show, her bare breasts visible because of the open collar on the shirt. He tried to look away but his eyes might as well have been cemented to her chest. The more she rubbed, the more she jiggled, and the more she jiggled, the more Jack squirmed.
Final
ly, she straightened and surveyed his face. “Is something wrong?”
Yeah. He was hard as a handlebar with no relief in sight. “I didn’t get much sleep.” Thanks to her.
“You know what you need?”
Oh, yeah. He knew exactly what he needed—to take off what little clothes she now wore and get down to business. “No. What do I need?”
“A haircut. And a shave wouldn’t hurt.”
“I’ve already shaved. Early this morning.”
“A heavy beard, I see.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him as if she was an artist sizing up her subject. “If you have a pair of scissors, I could cut your hair.”
“I’m not sure I trust you to do that.”
“You should. I was a stylist before I opened my balloon business. I’m rather good.”
He would just bet she was. “Maybe I like my hair the way it is.”
Seating herself on the sofa facing him in a display of long limbs and feminine wiles, she brought her bent knees to her chest. “Just a trim so it will be a little neater.”
Man, she was stubborn. “If I let you do this, will you leave me alone to work on the boat?”
“Sure. I’d like to work on my tan.”
“Last time I checked, there wasn’t any sun.”
“Are you sure?” She scooted off the sofa, walked to the porthole and drew back the curtain. “That looks like the sun to me.”
When Jack finally took his attention away from Lizzie’s legs and brought it to the window, he realized she was right. He would’ve wagered his fortune that the skies would remain overcast. Maybe he shouldn’t be at all surprised. If Lizzie wanted sun, she would probably get sun. In fact, he figured she was rarely denied anything if she put her mind to it.
“You better hurry and get out on deck,” he said. “I doubt the sun will be with us for very long.”
She turned from the window. “First, the haircut.”
