“Great.” She smiled through the obvious lie. “I’ve only thought about checking for voice mail ten or twelve times.”
“Voice mail!” He jumped on the idea. “We didn’t talk about that. What if we said we could check for messages, as long as we didn’t answer anything that isn’t an absolute emergency.”
“Oh God, tempting!” She covered her eyes with both hands, then dropped them. “But no. No!” she repeated with more resolve. “We agreed to do this, and I’m going to do it. You?”
“Of course. I’m good,” he assured her. “No worries.”
“Liar.” Her laugh bubbled out.
“So, get my mind off of it, will ya?”
“Okay, tell me more about your parents.” She adjusted to a more comfortable position with a movement of her bare legs that distracted him more than the change in subject. “Are they happy with your career choice, or did your father have his heart set on you going into the family business?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what Dad expected me to do.” Mike shrugged. “By the time I was old enough to go to work in a shipping yard, I was already making money as an animator.”
“How old was that?”
“I was fourteen when I worked on my first movie.”
“Fourteen!” Her eyes widened, making him grin.
“Back then, we were all pretty young. I think the average age of most special effects crews was between eighteen or twenty.”
“That’s incredible.”
“You have to understand, CGI barely even existed then. In the beginning, we just made it up as we went along, writing our own software and gluing spaceships together from whatever model parts we could pick up at the local toy store. It was fun, exciting.” He smiled at the memory. “And it’s never stopped being that way.”
Kate was right about one thing, finding that combination of work and passion was rare. He loved it as much as she loved being Dear Cupid. And he’d be damned if he’d stand by and watch her give up her column just because one online magazine no longer wanted to pay for it.
Chapter 17
*
“MIKE,” KATE CALLED up through the hatch of the sailboat’s cabin, “where do you keep the salt and pepper?”
“Look in the cabinet over the sink,” he called back from the cockpit where he was lighting the grill attached to the chrome rail he’d called a stern pulpit. Since she’d wrinkled her nose at the thought of hot dogs, they’d opted for chicken kebobs instead.
Late that afternoon, they’d found Mike’s cove and dove in the cool water for a refreshing swim. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so carefree, floating about on air mattresses, splashing water at Mike, then shrieking obligingly when he swam toward her mimicking the theme from Jaws.
With her swimsuit now dry, and the scarf tied back around her hips, she rummaged through the galley in search of condiments. “I’m not finding them,” she called through the hatch.
Mike’s head appeared, backlit by the golden-peach sunset. “Try the shelf over the dining table.”
“Dining table,” she muttered, moving around the counter to the eating area. On the shelf over the U-shaped booth, she found all manner of nautical flotsam, including models of old sailing ships, gadgets and tools she couldn’t begin to imagine the use for, and pictures. There, amid the sailing notions and whatnots, she found three framed photos bolted to the wall. “Did you find it?”
She glanced over her shoulder as he came down the ladder. “Is this your grandfather?” she asked.
He leaned over the counter to see what had caught her attention. “Yeah,” he breathed, his face warming with a smile. “That’s him. Crusty old sea dog, isn’t he?”
Actually, she found him very handsome in a rugged, weather-beaten way. He held an infant in his big, callused hands that looked as fascinated with him as he was with the child. “Is that you?”
“Heck no, that’s my baby sister, Carly the Brat.” Undisguised affection tinted Mike’s voice as he rummaged through the icebox for the package of pre-seasoned meat. “She’s fourteen years younger than me, and spoiled rotten.”
“Oh, and I’m sure you had nothing to do with spoiling her.” She cast him a sideways smile, enjoying the sight of him with his windblown hair and freshly tanned skin.
“Hey, I’m her big brother. I’m entitled.”
“So who’s this man standing with you here?” She pointed to a photo of a much younger Mike holding a sailing trophy and bottle of champagne with a slender, dark-haired man.
“My dad.”
“Really?” She looked closer. “You don’t look anything like him.”
“He takes after his mom. So do my two middle sisters. Carly looks like my mom, and I’m a throwback to my Scottish grandfather.”
“Yes, you are,” she agreed, imagining how he’d look in his later years. The image had definite appeal. Then she looked at the final picture and her smile faded at the sight of the stunningly beautiful woman in the black-and-white glossy photo. A long fall of pale hair framed intoxicating eyes, arrogant cheekbones, and a pouty mouth. A movie star, she assumed from the illegible autograph scrawled in one corner after the words, “To Mike, with all my love.”
“Old girlfriend?” she asked coolly.
“Bite your tongue.” Mike shuddered playfully. “That’s my sister, the Brat.”
“Oh.” She blushed at her momentary lapse into jealousy. “Your favorite, I take it.”
“What makes you say that?” he asked, slicing open the package of meat.
“She’s the only sister whose photo you carry on your boat. And not just one photo, but two.”
Mike chuckled. “She’s my only sister with a big enough ego to give me an autographed picture of herself for Christmas.”
“Still, you have it here alongside your father and grandfather.”
“The kid’s got spunk.” He shrugged. “She knows how to piss you off and make you laugh all at the same time.”
“Kind of like you?”
“Like I said, family trait.”
“Is she a movie star?” Kate turned back to gaze at the beautiful young woman.
“She’s working on it. So far, all she’s managed is a steady career in commercials and a few supporting roles in film, but she’s hanging in there, waiting for her big break.”
“You’re obviously proud of her.”
“I’d rather she be proud of herself.”
Kate turned and studied him, seeing layers to his personality she hadn’t fully noticed before: supportive, faithful, optimistic. “You’re a good brother, aren’t you?”
“I’d like to think so.” He grabbed the skewers. “Time to grill.”
***
MIKE SMILED AS Kate handed him her empty paper plate. There was something very satisfying about cooking for a woman.
“That was wonderful,” she sighed, with a hand over her stomach.
“Thanks to you.” He brushed a kiss to her cheek before he tossed their used plates and plastic forks into the makeshift trash bag. “I would have settled for hot dogs, but I’m glad you talked me into this.”
He sat sideways on the bench with Kate resting between his thighs. With their dinner plates out of the way, he gathered her close and leaned back. It pleased him when she turned as well, resting her back against his chest and planting her feet on the bench. Overhead the stars winked in time to the slap of the water against the hull. The dark silhouettes of hills surrounded them on three sides, enfolding them in their own world.
“I’m glad you talked me into this sail,” she said. “I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.” She shifted to smile at him. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Reading the invitation in her eyes, he dipped his head and let their lips brush, retreat, brush again. His eyes drifted closed as the kiss deepened, and he wondered if they would make love tonight. He’d promised earlier in the week not to push her. Yet with every day that passed she seemed more comfortable in
his presence, more receptive to the idea of them as a couple. Tonight, her body made all the subtle moves that told him she was definitely open to the possibility of making love.
Arousal tightened his groin. He started to deepen the kiss even more, but made himself pull back. They had all night, and simply holding her in his arms felt too enjoyable to rush things. He lightened the kiss, let it end with a few last nibbles before settling back to gaze at the stars. The mast rose like a tall cross against the lavender sky, its halyard pinging softly as the water rocked the boat.
“Mike?”
“Hmm?” he murmured against her hair.
“Did you mean what you said earlier? That you think I could sell my column?”
He went still, sensing that this was a monumental moment for her: to go from dismissing her writing as some little hobby she did more for fun than money, just because her jerk of an ex deemed it so, to seeing it as having worth. “I do.”
“Really?” She twisted to search his eyes, hope shining in her own. “You’re not just saying that to make me feel better? Because, if you are, you’ll just make things worse in the long run. I’d rather know the honest truth now than make a fool of myself when I fail.”
“Kate, I live in a world of starry-eyed dreamers who take on brutal reality every day. Yeah, some of them would probably be better off if someone had sat them down and said, ‘Forget it, kid. You got no talent. Go home.’ But you want to know what I’ve learned from watching those hopeful wannabes? Even the ones who have no talent?”
She shook her head.
“The only sure way to fail is to never try. And I’d rather watch hundreds of people with no talent fail while going after what they want, than see one person with real talent fail because they never tried. And you”—he touched his finger to her nose—“have talent.”
She bit her lip before asking, “Really?”
“Really.”
He watched a smile that came from deep inside blossom over her face.
“I can’t believe I’m going to ask this, but”—she closed her eyes as if afraid to trust his words, yet too excited not to—“do you know how to do what you said earlier? Syndicate a column?”
“Beyond a vague notion of how it’s done? No.”
“Oh.” Her shoulders slumped.
“But,” he added, smiling. “I know people who do. Lots of screenplay writers did freelance before selling their first script. Some still do. I could ask around.”
“Would you? Not that I’m sure I want to try it, but—”
He put a finger over her lips. “I’ll be happy to, on one condition.”
“What?”
“That you promise to go for it.”
“Or you’ll do what?” she teased him.
“Oh, I don’t know…” He ran his finger down the side of her neck to her collarbone and felt her pulse jump. “I’d think of something.”
“Something wicked?” Mischief danced in her eyes.
Arousal leapt from a low hum to full attention. “Did you have something in mind?”
“Maybe.” She bit her lip. Before he could move in and take a nibble for himself, she turned away, settling against him once more with her back nestled to his front.
“I have ways to make you talk,” he threatened seductively, running his finger down her arm.
“Hmm,” she purred and arched her back, drawing his gaze to her breasts covered in nothing more than the thin fabric of her swimsuit. When he hardened against her lower back, her lips curved. “That sounds very wicked.”
“And you sound like a woman who wouldn’t mind getting a little wicked.” His finger traveled back up, making her shiver. “Care to share what you’re thinking?”
“Oh, nothing specific.” She moved against him. “Only that we’re on a boat, and you have a way of handling the wheel that makes me think of… pirates.”
“Pirates?” His finger drifted across her collarbone and down toward her breasts.
Her breath turned shallow. “Kind of makes a woman wonder what it’s like to be ravished by some dangerously attractive sea captain.”
His pulse hammered as he traced his finger around her nipple, teasing it without touching it. “And here I’ve been hoping all day that you’d ravish me.”
“No.” She moved her raised knees restlessly from side to side. “I’ve already ravished you once. Now it’s your turn.”
Captivated by the sight and feel of her, he moved both index fingers to the straps of her swimsuit and began to peel the fabric down her arm.
“So, you want to be ravished, do you?” he asked in a gravelly voice.
“Oh, no,” she said in false alarm as he finished peeling the suit to her waist, freeing her breasts to his gaze.
Her nipples puckered and Kate shivered in anticipation, unable to believe how comfortable she felt playing out a fantasy with him. Closing her eyes, she savored the feel of the night air on her breasts, the building tension deep in her belly. When her arms were free, she lifted them back and linked them around his neck. “Please don’t take me.”
“Your struggles are useless.” At last, he touched her breasts, giving her nipple a light pinch and making her gasp. “Aboard my ship, you are at my mercy.”
The hand on her thigh swept downward to cup her aching center and she whimpered in response.
“I know you want me,” he whispered hoarsely. “Let me hear you say it.”
“No, never,” she moaned, knowing she’d die if he stopped.
His thumb moved against the dampness that seeped through her suit. “Admit you want me, or I shall give you to my men.”
She shook her head in denial even as her hips lifted, pressing against his hand. One fingertip drew maddening circles over her sensitive nub until she thought she would splinter with pleasure.
“Tell me you want me,” he said against her ear as his hand squeezed her breast. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” she cried mindlessly, opening her legs, begging with her body as well as her voice. His fingers darted beneath the swimsuit and thrust inside her. Her hips jerked upward as he withdrew and thrust again. She panted out words of wanting, telling him to take her. As the climax slammed through her, the stars above burst in flashes of light.
His touch gentled, giving the world a chance to settle back into place. When she finally drifted to earth, she let out a small laugh, a little embarrassed, but too sated to truly care.
“Is that what you had in mind?” He kissed her temple sweetly, as if she hadn’t just tossed her inhibitions overboard.
“Something like that.” Grinning, she turned in his arms and thanked him with a languid kiss.
“Good.” He cupped the back of her head and deepened the dance of lips and tongue. “Because I’m not nearly through with you.”
In one swift move, he sat forward and pressed her down until she lay beneath him on the cushion. Alarm shot through her as she saw the dangerous glint in his eyes. Gone was any trace of playfulness.
“Not nearly through,” he repeated as he captured her wrists in one hand and pinned them to the bench over her head. With his other hand, he grabbed one of the lines and wrapped it lightly about her wrists.
She stared at him, startled and uncertain. He gave her a devious but reassuring smile as he urged her fingers to tighten around the line to hold it in place. All she had to do to release herself was let go. Something relaxed and unfolded inside her, a liberating feeling that she was free to do anything with him. Pulling lightly on the line, she arched her breasts toward him. His eyes darkened as he peeled the swimsuit from her body.
With her stretched out naked before him, he stood and stripped with provocative slowness. Her gaze drank in the sight of his fully aroused body bathed in moonlight. He moved back onto the bench, kneeling between her thighs. Bending forward, he rested one hand beside her head and captured her face with his other. His gaze bored into her eyes as he spoke in a whisper, “I want everything you have, Kate.” His hand trailed
down her throat to cup her breast. “Everything.”
Fear blended with excitement, fear that he wanted more than she was ready to give, that he would take not just her body, but her heart. She tried to shake her head, to tell him no, but he covered her mouth with his and stole her breath, her thoughts, even her fear. All that remained was a wild wanting, a ravenous need, as he fulfilled every fantasy she’d entertained throughout the day.
Moving down her body, he suckled her breasts until the tips constricted to wet peaks against the evening air. She writhed in anticipation as he kissed a trail down her stomach. And when his mouth settled over the center of her desire, he took her to places she’d only imagined, gave her pleasures beyond her dreams. Just when she thought herself beyond reason, he sheathed himself for protection, then stretched out on top of her, pinning her soft body beneath his hard planes. “I want all of you, Kate. All of you.”
The fear had only a moment to flicker back to life before he drove deep. With a gasp, she arched against him, opening her body and her heart. Later she would take time to think, to pull safely away. For now, there was only Mike, and the unbearable ecstasy of having him inside her.
Chapter 18
*
A DISTANT SOUND stirred Kate from sleep. She rolled over and snuggled against Mike, not ready to abandon the lazy comfort of bed or the pleasure of the warm body beside her. The sound stopped long enough to let her drift back toward sleep, then started again, a muffled whirring noise that repeated at regular intervals. Raising her head, she squinted against the early dawn light that filtered through the portholes. The sound seemed to be coming from the main part of the cabin.
“Mike?” She nudged him gently, reluctant to wake him but worried that some kind of alarm was going off. “Mike, what’s that noise?”
“Hmm?” His eyes cracked open a fraction. When he focused on her face, a smile tugged at his lips. “Good morning.”
He moved a hand behind her neck and pulled her down for a kiss. She started to object, but the noise stopped. His lips moved against hers, gentle and sweet, as opposed to the hot demanding kisses they’d shared last night. She relaxed in his arms, giving herself up to the simple pleasure of a good-morning kiss.
Good Guy Heroes Boxed Set Page 18
