Captain

by Katherine Rhodes

“Well, I brought my chain mail because you never know when you’ll have to battle a Kraken.”

  “Hmm,” he said. “Wasn’t that up by Jamaica? Port Au Prince?”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “You know way too much about Pirates of the Caribbean.”

  “You’re right,” he laughed, walking back down the stairs. “Settle in. I’m going to the bar to tie about ten on. Dinner at eight all right with you?”

  “Just fine,” I said.

  “Oh, Glenda.” He stopped at the bottom of the stairs. “I know you don’t know me from Jack. Thank you for taking a chance that I’m a nice guy. I really, really appreciate it.”

  “You’re trapped here until the flight out on Sunday, too. What am I going to do—let you sleep under the coconuts?”

  “I’d be in good company!”

  Allen disappeared out the door, letting it slam behind him as I finished walking up the stairs. There was a door at the top of the stairs that was shut and another at the end, wide open. I grabbed the suitcase handle and headed for that one.

  I stepped in and any regret I had for leaving Bill instantly dissipated when I saw the view. Well, that’s a bit of a lie, but I was definitely distracted. The windows, which were shuttered like the ones in the living room, were wide open and the view from here was of the Pitons in the distance to the north: one of the most famous views in the Caribbean. And Allen had surrendered this room to me?

  I didn’t know that gentlemen still existed.

  The bag was dragged to the corner and I slumped onto the huge king-size bed. I was exhausted and it was only eleven a.m. I lay down on the bed to stare out at the water, and before I knew what had happened, I was sound asleep.

  Chapter 2

  I was able to finally spend most of my day floating in the ocean at the beach of the resort. It was wonderful, warm and gentle. I was born to be in the ocean, even if I did live in Colorado. The whole reason I had picked St. Lucia was for the water and the mountains and the warm. Winter had been too long when I had booked four months ago.

  I floated and floated and swam and floated and finally conceded that I had to get out when I started to wrinkle and the sun started to get low in the sky. I headed back to the room and took a long, relaxing shower—which was a feat after relaxing in the water for so long—and finally got dressed for dinner.

  The concierge rang the room to tell me that Allen was going to be late, but I should head down for the restaurant anyway. He’d meet me there.

  So I sat at the table, waiting for him, munching on the cheese and meat plate that he had ordered ahead of time. It was very sweet of him to do that, and I realized that perhaps gentlemen really did still exist in more than stories.

  I sat quietly nibbling on a piece of manchego when I heard a terribly familiar laugh. I tried desperately not to turn my head and look, but it had been my habit for eighteen months to respond to him. I had already turned to find him when I realized what I was doing.

  Bill stood in the door with three other people: a guy and two girls. One of the women was dripping herself on him. It was foul. My attempt to turn away from him failed; he caught my gaze before I could.

  “Glenda?” he asked.

  “Glenda?” the wet rag replied. “Is she a good witch or a bad witch?”

  Like I hadn’t heard that a hundred thousand times before.

  “Hello, Bill,” I answered with as much neutrality as I could muster.

  “Are you here alone?” he asked.

  “Are you here to mock me?” I snapped.

  “No, I was going to ask you join us for dinner, since you’re here alone.” He stressed the word ‘alone’ again. “This is Steven, Tanya, and Irene. So if you’re alone,” stressed again, “why not come over with us?”

  “She’s not alone,” came the voice I had been waiting for.

  Bill and Steven parted and Allen was standing there.

  Sweet Holy Christ.

  He was wearing a tuxedo, but it wasn’t just any tuxedo—it was tailored and fitted and clearly made just for him. His jacket hugged his broad shoulders and tapered down to his trim waist and slim hips. The pants hung perfectly and I found myself wishing he would turn around so I could see just how well the pants fit.

  “You must be Bill,” Allen said, sticking out his hand. “Captain Allen Macomb.”

  Captain?!

  “Oh, uh,” Bill stuttered. “Bill… William. William Kroll.”

  Aaaand here came the testosterone-fueled posturing. I almost sniffed the air to see if I could scent the hormones. I had the feeling I would be able to. I didn’t know that Allen was a captain of anything, and Bill never used his full name.

  “Bill, if you’ll excuse us,” I said. “We were just about to sit down to dinner. I’m sure you don’t want to disrupt your dinner with your new companions.”

  He nodded, staring hard at me. Allen pushed through the two women standing there and pulled his chair out. The three interlopers finally took the hint and headed away from the table. Allen rolled his eyes and sat down. “If I had known, I would have had them seat you further away from the entrance.”

  “It’s okay,” I smiled. It really hadn’t bothered me.

  “Sorry I was late.” He settled his napkin on his lap. “I had to head into Soufriere. I was trying to find a fax machine that I could dial the US from that was somewhat secure. Cost me a damn arm and a leg. That ex-wife of mine is going to kill me with the costs.”

  “What happened?” I asked, genuinely curious.

  “She sent me paperwork that was due today over the weekend, threatening to take away some of my visitation rights for the kids. She seems to think that doing this is going to push me away from them. But they’re my kids and I’ll do what I have to do.”

  “Absolutely,” I nodded.

  “You look lovely,” he said, changing the subject.

  “Oh, this old thing?” I laughed, looking at my dress. I had actually bought it the day before we left; I hadn’t even thought about buying something. “Standard answer—I almost didn’t bring one. But hope springs eternal, and I thought that maybe Bill might make a sweeping romantic gesture while we were here.” I grabbed the drink. “Clearly, I’m delusional.”

  “I think you have every right to expect that your boyfriend would treat you nicely,” he said.

  “Haha,” I said. “Your tux is fantastic, by the way.”

  “Oh, this old thing?”

  Allen turned out to be a fantastic dinner companion: he was funny and sweet and intelligent. He never told me more about the ‘captain’ thing, but I listened as he talked about his kids with wonderful vivid imagery and I thought about how great those kids had it with him. I was able to tell him about my designs. He seemed a little amused that signs were so complicated, but I loved making them, and I was one of the highest rated designers in Denver.

  Through all of it though, like a sickly heartbeat, I could hear Bill’s annoying laugh breaking through the relative quiet of the restaurant. Had he always been this annoying, or was this a new thing I hadn’t noticed because I was trying to make the whole thing work? I was starting to realize that I was far more unhappy with Bill than I had wanted to admit. It was always on me to make it work, to make the plans, to clean up the messes that our relationship left behind.

  “Glenda?”

  I looked at him, surprised.

  Allen laughed. “You haven’t heard a word I’ve said for at least ten minutes.”

  “I’m sorry,” I sighed.

  “It’s him, isn’t it? That annoying jackass laugh he has?”

  The description elicited a laugh out of me. “It’s like timing contractions. I want to ignore him, but every five to seven minutes, there it is, poking my brain.”

  Allen motioned to the maître d’, who was over in just a moment. “On my tab, please?”

  “Of course, Captain Macomb,” he said, and walked away.

  Captain again. I raised my eyebrow, and he stood. “I don’t mix business with plea
sure.” He was at the back of the chair and helped me out of it just a moment later. “I know a bar we can sit at that I think Bill won’t be interested in. Can I buy you a drink?”

  “You’ve already bought me dinner,” I said. “Let me get the drinks?”

  “No deal.” He offered his arm and I took it. “This night is my treat.”

  “All right then, captain,” I teased. “I’m game.”

  The bar he led us to was far away from the main restaurants and the nightclubs that Bill would be interested in. It was thrust out over the beach, nearly in the water, and the lights were dim. There was a small acoustic group playing in the corner, and the band was accompanied by the soft Caribbean waves lapping at the nearby shore. The lights were strung across the space on strings, giving it a low, warm feel against the rich mahogany wood that lined the bar. The Pitons loomed to the south, a dark ink against the star-filled sky. The moon was still hiding behind Mount Gimie and would be up in a few minutes, and the warm breeze was delightfully salty as it brushed against us.

  “I get the feeling you’re not a stranger to this place,” I observed as he helped me onto the chair.

  “What are you drinking?” Allen ignore the question.

  “Appletini, please,” I answered.

  As Allen walked away, I was finally, finally able to get that look at the back end of the whole package. The tux was so tailored it hugged every curve of what I imagined was firm, taut backside. It barely moved across his considerable, broad shoulders and the waist stayed right where it needed to be for that ass. I had to rip my eyes away when he stopped at the bar.

  The bartender was all smiles as Allen ordered for us, and clearly the bartender knew the drill. He was back to the table in a moment, and the waiter was right behind him with the tray and drinks. The appletini glass was big enough to swim in, and the mojito that Allen had ordered wasn’t much smaller.

  “I do know the place well,” Allen admitted after the waiter walked away. “I love coming here. I try to get here at least twice a year, once with the kids. They love it too, and it’s a great place to just relax and forget life for a while. I was taking a chance coming here with the kids this time because usually we go to Beaches or something more kid-friendly. But they’re old enough to behave now, so I thought being so close to the Pitons would be cool. Didn’t work out. I thought that Shelley loved this place… she was stunned the first time we came here when we were dating.” He paused, and flicked away a drop of moisture from the glass. “She was angry I wanted to take the kids out of the country. So she did everything she could to stop me, including booking them into Disney World for the week. And telling them about it.”

  “She sounds like a gem.”

  He contemplated the glass. “I just wonder where we went wrong.”

  “I feel the same way,” I empathized.

  Allen lifted the glass and indicated a toast. “To finding out your significant other is a dick before you have to settle in court.”

  “To finding someone willing to put up with a stranger so neither of us had to ruin a vacation.” I lifted my own glass to clink his.

  “What are your plans for tomorrow?”

  “Oh, I signed on for a champagne catamaran cruise and snorkel.” I wanted to smash my head on the table when I remembered, “Bill will be there too.”

  “Me too,” he answered.

  I glanced up. “What?”

  “I’m on the champagne catamaran at ten a.m.,” Allen answered.

  “Oh, thank God.” My head tilted into my hand, and then I realized the implications of what I had just said. “I mean… I’m not a damsel in distress or I um… I don’t think that you’re… there’s no reason for me to assume…”

  He laughed. “It’s okay, Glenda. I’m okay with being the buffer for you. It’s just a happy coincidence we’re on the same cruise tomorrow.”

  “Did I mention along the way that I’m a bit of a social fuck-up?”

  His laugh, deep and amused, did things to me. I figured it was the martini, and his ass.

  “I really don’t think you’re a social fuck-up,” Allen said. “I think you’re a sweet girl in a gorgeous dress and shit situation. I’ll be happy to be your knight in shining armor.”

  “I hope you aren’t planning on wearing armor tomorrow.”

  “Only Under Armour.”

  I snorted into the drink as I tried to take a sip.

  * * *

  Allen managed to get the door open with me leaning against him. I’d had entirely too many appletinis and then too many chocotinis and perhaps a glass of wine too many. Actually, as I stood there reeling from the force of gravity and the undeniable pull of alcohol, I realized that I’d had way, way too much to drink. I’d be plastered to the floor in the morning.

  “Thank you for getting me shit-faced,” I hiccupped.

  “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine,” he smirked, helping me stagger against the wall into the room. “I’m also kind of thinking that perhaps you may want to take a few bottles of water to bed with you.”

  “I can think of better things to take to bed with me.”

  “Oh, I’m sure,” he smirked.

  I stumbled to the stairs and attempted to climb. They were awfully big and wiggly and I clung to the railing, giggling the whole time. Idiot drunk giggling. Allen locked the door and leaned against the wall across from me.

  Allen looked utterly lickable. His tux jacket was unbuttoned and he had a hand in his pocket, bowtie untied, and first button undone. He had a smirk on this face that was bemused about my current state of utter inebriation.

  “Do I amuse you, Captain?” I asked.

  “Currently, very much so,” he answered. “Now I know to cut you off at chocotinis.”

  “They’re so good though,” I mumbled. I turned back to the stairs. “Try again.” I lifted my foot to the first stair and found it. I made some ridiculous noise of triumph, and hauled myself up. I instantly got into another argument with gravity and stumbled back to my starting position, leaving only the successful shoe on the stair. “Shit.”

  He laughed. “Let me help?”

  “I can do this.”

  “I think your choice is my help or the couch,” Allen answered, grabbing the shoe.

  “I can do this.” I lost my balance and hit the wall. “I can’t do this.”

  Without warning, Allen wrapped his arms around my waist and hoisted me up over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. I screeched and laughed and froze—I was immediately dizzy to the point of probably falling off his shoulder. We were up the stairs before I could really get my bearings below and I fully expected he would put me down at the top step.

  Instead, he carried me into the bedroom. He placed me carefully on the bed, and smiled at me. “My lady, you are completely shit-faced.”

  “Sir, I told you that before and properly thanked you for it,” I answered, reaching down to pull off my shoes. I almost tumbled right off the bed onto my face.

  “Stop stop,” Allen directed, pushing me back. “Let me help you.” He slipped his hand down my leg.

  And oh my God, what that touch did to me. Even though he had held me up on the way to the room and carried me up the stairs—the touch at that moment sent shivers through my whole body that landed between my legs. I almost groaned, but managed to cut it off.

  Allen held my foot by the ankle and slipped the heel off. He rubbed the arch of my instep very gently, treating my toes to a tiny massage as well. His hands were sure and firm and kind and he ignited the fires in my sex. He let go, and slipped his hand down my other leg.

  This time, I couldn’t stop the groan as his palm slid down to my ankle. I thought I saw a smirk on his face, but he slipped down that leg, which had been shoeless to start, and delighted me with another little instep massage and tiny attention to my toes.

  My body was on fire this time, and I looked at him kneeling there, sexily half undone, giving me the most adorable smirk I’d seen yet. He put one hand on my knee
and slid his hand over my heated skin to find purchase on the bed, lifting himself off the floor. He towered over me, looming and still smiling.

  “Your ex-wife is a complete fucking moron,” I stated.

  “I’m aware,” he answered.

  “I can’t believe she let all six-foot two of your Adonis body out of her sight for a moment.” I ran my fingers over the cuff of the shirt that peeked out of the perfect jacket.

  “You, of all people, know that a relationship can’t exist on physical attraction alone. Beauty fades and if—”

  “You’re wrong,” I interjected.

  “About what?”

  “Beauty fading.” I offered a hiccup to punctuate the seriousness of my words. Which failed.

  “It always does,” he said.

  “Nope.” I played with the buttons on the jacket. “If you’re really in love with someone, it never fades. It morphs and changes as you grow together. You’re unbelievably hot and sexy, and if I were really attracted to you on a much deeper level, I would adore the way your hair becomes more salt than pepper. Each little wrinkle that you got around your eyes, I would know you laughed your way there. Each bit of paunch you gained around that really fucking hot waist of yours would be from the choice of sitting and talking with me instead of doing something else. Your beauty would change. I wouldn’t find you ugly in any way…”

  Allen stared at me—his hazel eyes sparkling in the dim light of the room, snapping with sexual heat and desire. He was perfection. “You are so different from all the other women.”

  “No, I’m not,” I said. “There’s lots of me out there, looking for lots of you.”

  Our eyes were locked again, and neither of us spoke. My hand moved, of its own drunken accord, to his lapel and I yanked him closer. “I am going to kiss you, Captain, and I want you to know that I would happily sleep with you right now.”

  I pulled him down to me, and to my shock, he caught my mouth before I could move to him. His hand wound into my hair and held me closer, pillaging me, plundering as much of me as he could with his tongue. His cedarwood scent and mojito taste invaded me completely and I finally found enough of myself to return the kiss in kind, sucking, nibbling, exploring, stroking everything he offered me.