Marooned With A Millionaire
KRISTI GOLD
From the moment blond hot-air balloonist Lizzie Matheson hit the deck of his yacht, Jack Dunlap knew he could kiss his solitude goodbye.His unconventional - and pregnant - passenger was driving him to distraction, making the reclusive millionaire long to remain stranded with this arousing mother-to-be forever. The last place Lizzie expected to find herself was adrift at sea with a seductive yachtsman.And the longer she spent in close quarters with the amorous "Captain" Jack, the harder it would be to leave him once they reached land. Unless she could turn a go-it-alone kind of guy into a partner-for-life….
“I’m Not Letting You Go.”
Jack turned Lizzie toward the sea and held on to her from behind. “If you fall in, then I’ll have to go get you. And, babe, I’m thinking that would be a bad idea. Rule One, stay on the boat.”
“I told you, I’m not a babe.”
“And I’m not Ahab.”
“It’s either that or Captain Hook, since we seem to be following a fairy-tale theme.”
“Both my hands are intact.” Definitely so, because they’d somehow made their way to her hips.
“I guess you’re right about that, so Ahab it is.”
He couldn’t hold back a smile. “Are you feeling better now?”
Lizzie drew in a deep breath. “I just need something to eat.”
Jack needed to kiss her, badly.
Dear Reader,
Top off your summer reading list with six brand-new steamy romances from Silhouette Desire!
Reader favorite Ann Major brings the glamorous LONE STAR COUNTRY CLUB miniseries into Desire with Shameless (#1513). This rancher’s reunion romance is the first of three titles set in Mission Creek, Texas—where society reigns supreme and appearances are everything. Next, our exciting yearlong series DYNASTIES: THE BARONES continues with Beauty & the Blue Angel (#1514) by Maureen Child, in which a dashing naval hero goes overboard for a struggling mom-to-be.
Princess in His Bed (#1515) by USA TODAY bestselling author Leanne Banks is the third Desire title in her popular miniseries THE ROYAL DUMONTS. Enjoy the fun as a tough Wyoming rancher loses his heart to a spirited royal-in-disguise. Next, a brooding horseman shows a beautiful rancher the ropes…of desire in The Gentrys: Abby (#1516) by Linda Conrad.
In the latest BABY BANK title, Marooned with a Millionaire (#1517) by Kristi Gold, passion ignites between a powerful hotel magnate and the pregnant balloonist stranded on his yacht. And a millionaire M.D. brings out the temptress in his tough-girl bodyguard in Sleeping with the Playboy (#1518) by veteran Harlequin Historicals and debut Desire author Julianne MacLean.
Get your summer off to a sizzling start with six new passionate, powerful and provocative love stories from Silhouette Desire.
Enjoy!
Melissa Jeglinski
Senior Editor, Silhouette Desire
Marooned with a Millionaire
Kristi Gold
KRISTI GOLD
has always believed that love has remarkable healing powers and feels very fortunate to be able to weave stories of romance and commitment. As a bestselling author and Romance Writers of America RITA
Award finalist, she’s learned that although accolades are wonderful, the most cherished rewards come from the most unexpected places, namely from personal stories shared by readers. Kristi resides on a ranch in Central Texas with her husband and three children, along with various and sundry livestock. She loves to hear from readers and can be contacted at KGOLDAUTHOR@aol.com or P.O. Box 11292, Robinson, TX 76716.
To Captain Jeremy and First Mate Pattie, for all the wonderful insight and nautical details you’ve provided during the making of this story. Here’s wishing you both another twenty-five years of smooth sailing.
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Epilogue
One
The sailboat’s sudden pitch jarred Jackson Dunlap from his solitude and sent the mug before him into his lap. Bolting from his seat in the galley, he scaled the companionway leading topside at a sprint, covered in coffee and cursing the sudden commotion.
For one solid year, not much had disturbed him as he’d sailed alone off the coast of Florida. At his request, he’d had no visitors, no business calls, no disruptions aside from the necessary returns to port to restock and the occasional patch of rough weather. Until now.
After arriving on deck, Jack shaded his eyes against the midday June sun expecting to find he’d been rammed by some craft piloted by an idiot or a nearsighted whale in the throes of mating season. He didn’t expect to see the patchwork purple-and-yellow balloon slowly descending from the sky and deflating not more than a few hundred yards away.
He moved closer to the sight, unable to comprehend what he now witnessed. Some guy in the gondola attached to the balloon was waving like mad until the basket bounced along the surface, toppled, then spilled its human contents.
Spurred into action by a surge of adrenaline and a sudden sense of dåj? vu, Jack raced to the platform at the stern. “Swim!” he yelled as he tossed a buoy in the general direction of the stranger, thankful he’d lowered the sails that morning. At least the boat was somewhat stationary. And luckily the current seemed to be aiding the guy in his efforts. Unfortunately, it was also aiding the balloon and basket to travel in the same direction, toward his prized boat.
Jack feverishly tugged the buoy’s line, dragging the stranger through the water at a fast clip. Then suddenly he realized he wasn’t a he at all. He was a she. A woman with wide oval eyes and chin-length blond hair that hung down around her face in wet strands.
What the hell was she doing all the way out here?
He planned to ask her that—and more—as soon as he had her safely on board.
Once she was within reach, Jack grabbed her extended arm, tugged her onto the platform, tossed her over his shoulder and headed forward.
“I can walk,” she said in a raspy, winded voice. “So you can put me down now.”
He could, but not until he made sure she wasn’t injured. Gingerly he laid her on the deck and sat beside her, uncertain which one of them was breathing more heavily. His ragged respiration had more to do with nerves than exertion because she really didn’t weigh all that much. He imagined her labored breath resulted from the swim along with a little added fear—and rightfully so.
When he regained his voice, he asked, “Are you hurt?”
She scooted into a sitting position and stared at him with blue-green eyes almost a perfect match to the sea. Then she opened her mouth and muttered, “I’m okay as long as the baby’s okay.”
Baby? She had a kid with her? “Was the baby in the basket?” he asked in a moderate tone, struggling to keep the panic from his voice.
She studied him with sandy brows drawn down over confused eyes. Then she laid a hand on her belly and smiled. “It’s in this basket.”
Both relieved and shocked, his gaze shot to her slender hand now curved protectively over her abdomen. “You’re pregnant?”
She pushed her damp hair away from her forehead and exhaled slowly. “Yes.”
Great. Just great.
“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” he asked, genuinely concerned. “No pain or anything?”
She sat a little straighter. “I’m okay. Kind of tired, but overall pretty good.”
Jack decided she looked pretty good all over. Healthy, he corrected. Her still-flat abdomen encased in plain white capri pants, the soaked yellow T-shirt adhering to her torso, made Jack hard-pressed to believe she was actually going to have a baby.
Obviously she wasn’t very far along in the pregnancy. Obviously she couldn’t lay claim to much common sense, either, which made him really want to shake some sense into her. But she’d been shaken up enough for one day, so he settled for a little subtle chastising. “Now let me see if I’ve got this straight. You decided to go off in your balloon to tour the ocean at the risk of harming your unborn child?”
She hugged her knees to her chest and glared at him. “For your information, ballooning is a very safe mode of transportation. I’m more at risk driving on a Miami freeway. I would never do anything, anything, to hurt my baby. This was a fluke.”
A bite of guilt nipped at Jack. He had no call to judge anyone when it came to taking risks. God knew he had taken more than his share, with much more devastating consequences.
He sent her a half smile, a feeble attempt at an apology. “I suppose it’s a lot like sailing. Once it’s in the blood, you can’t consider giving it up.”
She glanced away but not before he caught a hint of sadness in her eyes. “Actually, it was my last trip until after the baby’s birth. I was leaving a festival near Miami. I’m not sure what happened. I think I might have passed out or something. The next thing I knew, I woke up out here, wherever here is.”
“We’re about twenty miles off the coast near Key Largo. You couldn’t get back to shore?”
“By the time I came to, the wind was unstable and I started losing altitude.”
He supposed that made sense, as much sense as it could to a man who preferred water to air. Sometimes the elements couldn’t be controlled. How well he knew that concept.
She gave him a sheepish smile, revealing a glimpse of white teeth and a dimple at the left corner of her lower lip. “Pretty lucky I happened upon you, huh?”
That remained to be seen, Jack decided. “Did you hit the deck when you were trying to land?”
“Not exactly.”
“It sounded like you hit something.”
“More like grazed.”
“The deck?”
She pointed upward. “The mast thingy. I aimed for it on my descent. I wanted to make sure I got your attention.”
It had definitely gotten his attention, then and now. And admittedly a smart thing for her to do, not that he cared for it much. No telling what kind of damage she’d done, but at least she hadn’t brought the mast down. At the moment he didn’t dare examine the thingy, fearing what he might find. Right now he was barely hanging on to some semblance of calm. Right now he had to deal with another pressing matter.
Coming to his feet, he asked with a great deal of benevolence, “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine. Really. Promise.”
“Okay. I’m going to go see where the balloon went. I’ll be right back. You rest.”
Her expression reflected gratitude. “Thanks. I’d appreciate that.”
He decided not to tell her that his concern was for his boat, not her balloon. And he hoped like hell the damn thing had changed course.
But it hadn’t. He realized that the moment he arrived at the rear platform. The massive fabric billowed portside; the basket was lodged on the end of the swim ladder.
Tethering himself to the platform railing, he lowered to his stomach and inched down until he could reach the rig. With the set of bolt cutters stored aft, he started to work. First he dislodged the gondola and began cutting away the cables attaching the balloon to the framework that housed the burner. He fought the current’s pull, fought the sea spray jetting into his face. Fought his desperation and impatience. He continued practically blind but knew he was making progress when the fabric began pulling away.
Finally, the last cable snapped. His fingers ached, his eyes burned, but he supposed he should feel lucky that the rig hadn’t made its way underneath the boat. That could mean certain disaster.
“What are you doing?”
He hadn’t realized she was standing behind him. Right behind him. Without looking at her, he said, “I’ve freed your balloon.” Gave it a nice burial at sea, he almost told her but thought better of it.
“Why did you do that?”
“So it didn’t get caught up in the prop.”
Standing, he turned to face her and met the most melancholy expression he’d ever seen on a woman’s face. He couldn’t really blame her. He’d felt the same way when he’d lost his last boat to a cutthroat competition coupled with a relentless storm. He’d lost more than that.
At least he had saved her. At least she was alive, unharmed, in charge of all her faculties….
“Can you go get the envelope…the balloon itself? We could roll it up and store it on deck.”
Obviously she was crazy. Certifiable. “Not unless you expect me to swim for it.”
She wrapped her arms around her middle as she visually followed the flattened balloon now barely perceptible on the horizon. “Of course, that’s a stupid thing to ask considering what you’ve done for me. But that balloon is my livelihood.”
When this ordeal ended, he’d buy her another balloon. Hell, he had enough money to buy her fifty balloons, not that he had any desire to tell her that. The less she knew about him, the better. “I’m sorry, but I had no choice.”
She gave him a one-shoulder shrug and a surprisingly bright grin. “I’m sure it will all work out somehow. I’ll think of something.”
Great. A blond optimist, Jack thought. A tall, blond optimist, not without some fairly liberal curves that were more than obvious beneath her clinging clothing. Admittedly, she was pretty darned cute, even if she was a little scattered. Scattered and sexy. She was also shaking.
Turning his back on all that cuteness, he said, “Follow me. Let’s get you out of your clothes.” Oh, hell. “You can wear some of mine.”
Without protest she complied, and once they’d made it into the main salon, he faced her again. “It’s a little warmer in here. That should help.” Not Jack, though. He was already way too hot under the collar.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “I owe you.”
He considered one form of payment that would not be at all appropriate, or advisable. He had no use for women, cute or otherwise. Especially a woman who had interrupted his nice solitary life. A pregnant woman, no less. More than likely a married pregnant woman.
Something suddenly occurred to Jack, something he should have considered long before now. “After you change, we can try to get a message to your husband.”
She executed a prideful tip of her chin. “That would be futile since I don’t have one.”
“Boyfriend?” Jack asked, more than slightly curious, regardless of his caution.
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“Miraculous conception?”
Strolling to the navy-and-red plaid sofa, she ran her fingers along the edge. “If you’re inquiring about the father of my child, he’s not involved.”
And it was really none of Jack’s business. He sure as hell didn’t want her in the middle of his. “Okay. What about friends and family?”
“Actually, the members of my chase crew are probably wondering what happened to me when they saw me drift away.”
“I’m sure they are.” And Jack wondered what was happening to him. He couldn’t stop looking at her now exposed earlobe, her nice full mouth, her long, slender limbs—and imagining things he had no cause to imagine. For God’s sake, he didn’t even know her name.
With that in mind, he stuck out his hand. “Jackson Dunlap. I prefer Jack.”
Her grin illuminated the dimly lit cabin as she took his hand. “Elizabeth Matheson, and I prefer another name altogether. However, you may call me Lizzie.”
Despite his need to remain detached, he couldn’t suppress his own smile. “Well, Lizzie, at least we have a few things settled.”
Unfortunately, he felt very unsettled. As crazy as it seemed, the woman glowed, even when she wasn’t smiling. Even soaking wet and shivering, she possessed a weird kind of aura that would make most men take immediate notice. He certainly had. He was still noticing.
He didn’t have time to notice. He had to check out the mainsail and mast, and get the hell back to port.
Chalking up his disregard for his boat to months of celibacy, he simply said, “Bathroom’s in there, if you want to use it.” He pointed to the starboard head.
Her gaze swept the room and her smile returned. “Fantastic boat. It’s probably bigger than my apartment. Who owns it?”
“I do.”
“Oh. So where’s the rest of the crew?”
Long lost to the sea, Jack thought with the same old remorse. “It’s only me. I prefer it that way.”
She continued to survey the area. “Really? You handle this baby all by yourself? I’m impressed.”
So was he. Too impressed. With her. “You go grab a shower, I’ll go grab you some clothes.” And he would do his best not to grab her for the few remaining hours they would spend together.
With a nervous twist of her hands and another luminous smile, she said, “Okay,” then walked toward the head while regarding him over one shoulder. “You might want to bring me just a T-shirt since I doubt I could get into your shorts.”
He’d be willing to let her try.
Jack’s reaction to her innocent, offhand comment and the image it produced created a not-so-nonchalant response down south. “Fine. A T-shirt it is. Take your time. I’ll get things moving so we can head for land.”
The quicker he got rid of her, the better, for the sake of his own sanity and his valued seclusion.
Jackson Carter Dunlap, hotel magnate and self-made millionaire, didn’t like the thought of anyone disrupting the way of life he had come to know over the past twelve months. But damned if the woman who’d fallen from the sky like some misguided Dorothy wasn’t driving him to distraction. And it had taken her all of twelve minutes.
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 surfaced. “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.”
“Until I fell from the sky.”
Finally, he smiled all the way, stripping years off his handsome face. “Yeah, but them’s the breaks. Just as long as you know what you’re up against. The weather could get pretty rough.”
Living for years in Ohio, smack-dab in the middle of tornado alley, Lizzie had grown up with storms. She had overcome her fear and learned to respect their majesty, their power. Come to think of it, not much seemed to frighten her because long ago she’d learned you just have to have faith that things would work out.
However, Jack Dunlap did frighten her in a way, or maybe it was his sensual pull. Not that she would tell him that. She didn’t dare reveal her attraction to him. In fact, she was determined not to let him see that each time she was close to him, she entertained some really dubious thoughts.
Lizzie pulled her gaze away from his lest she give herself away. “I’m sure everything will work out fine.”
“Just so you know,” he added, “it might get rocky around here.” His eyes narrowed and he took on that look again. The one that said he meant business, she’d like to think the kind that involved undressing and caressing. “Can you handle it?”
Oh, yeah. “Oh, sure. What’s a little wind and rain?” A little bedtime adventure.
Halt, Lizzie.
“In the meantime,” he said, moving a bit closer, “I’ll have to show you what I need you to do in case the situation calls for it.”
Visions of him instructing her on the finer points of lovemaking leaped into her brain. What a way to weather a storm. She could consider that later. First, she needed food.
Her stomach rumbled loud enough to rouse the Loch Ness monster. “Maybe this is a really bad time to ask, but do you have anything to eat? I’m starving.”
His grin went wicked and a little wild. “So am I, Dorothy. So am I.”
Jack was very hungry, thanks to the woman busily raiding his cabinets. He should’ve thought twice, ten times before he walked in on her in the tub. He should’ve turned around and headed out the door. He should leave her to her own devices now, before he did something really ridiculous, like run his hands down her bare thighs, then up again, then down again….
He had to get his libido in a choke hold and put it to rest. Not necessarily an easy prospect, and only a momentary remedy. He had no idea how long this little liaison would last, or how he would control himself as he spent time with a woman who possessed a strong will, sassy mouth and a body that would be worth investigating. A really nice mouth that he’d wanted to kiss into silence several times today. Right now, even. But she was pregnant with another man’s child, and he didn’t want that hassle, no matter how tempting she could be. He had more than enough to worry about considering his disabled boat.
“Don’t you have anything besides canned meat?” she asked, slamming one cabinet door closed and moving on to the refrigerator.
“I like canned meat. It’s convenient, and it’s not half-bad once you get used to it.”
After closing the refrigerator door, she leaned back against it. “No salad?”
“Not at the moment.”
She threaded her bottom lip between her teeth. “This is not a good thing. I’m a vegetarian for the most part, although I will have poultry on occasion.”
“Maybe you should consider diving for seaweed.”
She rolled her eyes to the ceiling. “You are so amusing, Ahab.”
“Say what you will, but there’s nothing better than a big juicy rare steak.”
“Rare?”
“Yeah, the rarer the better.”
Lizzie’s hand suddenly went to her belly, her face as pale as the white galley counter. “Oh, gosh. I think I’m going to be sick.”
Jack rushed to her side and guided her up the companionway. She removed her hand from her mouth long enough to ask, “Where are we going?”
“To the deck,” he said. “I have a rule. Anyone who gets seasick has to do it over the side.”
“It’s probably morning sickness,” she muttered, her words muffled by her palm.
But it happened to be night, Jack thought. He guessed a little nausea was possible. After all, what did he know about pregnant women? Not a thing. He had a feeling he was about to learn more than he’d ever imagined.
When they reached the stern, he turned her toward the sea and held on to her from behind. “Go ahead.”
She glared over one shoulder. “I can’t do it with you watching.”
“You’re going to have to because I’m not letting you go. If you fall in, then I’ll have to go get you. And babe, I’m thinking that would be a bad idea. Rule one, stay on the boat.”
That brought her around in his arms. “I told you, I’m not a babe.”
“And I’m not Ahab.”
“It’s either that or Captain Hook since we seem to be following a fairy-tale theme.”
“Both my hands are intact.” Definitely so because they’d somehow made their way to her hips.
“I guess you’re right about that, so Ahab it is.”
He couldn’t hold back his smile. “Okay, Dorothy. Are you feeling better now, or do you still need to be sick?”
She drew in a deep breath, thrusting her breasts forward against his chest. Man, he didn’t need that.
“I’m not nauseated anymore, only hungry,” she said. “I just need something to eat.”
Jack needed to kiss her, badly. But he sure couldn’t do that at the moment, or anytime for that matter. He took a much-needed step back but kept his hands clasped loosely around her waist should she decide to pass out. “Look, I have some Oriental noodles with vegetables. Will that do?”
She grinned. “Perfectly.”
How little it seemed to take to please her. Jack wondered if that held true in all endeavors, including lovemaking. Slapping the thoughts from his brain, he released her completely. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
“And Hank,” she added.
Even though it was the last thing he wanted to do, Jack laughed. For the first time in months.
The man kept staring at her. Oh, he’d tried not to be too obvious about it, but four times now Lizzie had caught Jack watching her mouth.
Egad! She probably had a Chinese noodle hanging off her chin. Her fingertips immediately zipped to the area, but thankfully she found no strings. Just in case, she grabbed a napkin and swiped at her mouth to remove any latent residue.
He glanced up from his bowl again and this time his eyes homed in on her breasts. Lizzie immediately looked down at her chest, expecting to find a nice brown blob smeared on the borrowed T-shirt. She always seemed to miss her mouth, very odd since it was a more than adequate size.
Nope, no blob. Just cotton. Fairly transparent cotton that didn’t come close to hiding the fact she was still a bit chilled.
Sheesh. Is that what he’d noticed? Well, if so, she’d just have to cover the evidence.
Sitting back in the chair, Lizzie folded her arms across her breasts. “That hit the spot. Not exactly my favorite, but I feel much better now.”
“Good,” he muttered, dropping his gaze to his food.
“I’m really not that opposed to meat unless it’s beef. I love cows. My grandfather named his herd after the grandchildren. Then one day I learned we were having my cousin, Bernie, for Sunday dinner. Literally. Well, not literally. The cow named Bernie. That was the end of that. No more beef for me.”
Jack murmured something Lizzie couldn’t quite discern. Obviously he wasn’t too willing to join in the conversation. She wouldn’t let that stop her. “There are lots of replacements for beef, though. Take ground turkey, for instance. Have you had any?”
He glanced up for a moment then resumed pushing the last of his disgusting stew around in his bowl. “Not in a while.”
“Oh, so you have had some?”
“Of course.”
“Then I assume you’d agree that it’s not so different from having a regular hamburger.”
His gaze snapped up. “Huh?”
“You know, a big juicy hamburger with all the fixings. Yum, yum.”
He frowned. “That’s a weird comparison.”
“Why? When considering ground turkey versus ground beef, I’d say it was an accurate comparison.”
“Turkey? You were asking me about turkey?”
“Yes, what did you think I was…?” Reality dawned through Lizzie’s own confusion. This was so rich. “Wait a minute, you thought I was asking you if you’ve had any….” She couldn’t finish her sentence, or contain her laughter.
Jack didn’t laugh nor did he look at all amused. “I obviously misunderstood you.”
“Obviously. Did you really think I would ask you about your sex life?”
“My mistake.”
She leaned forward and propped a cheek on her palm. “Well, do you have one?”
He looked away but not before she saw discomfort in his eyes. “I don’t want to go there.”
Oh, but Lizzie wanted to. She wanted to know more about him since they would be sharing their time for a while, and whatever else they might decide to share. She was suddenly very warm. “I imagine a man like you has certain needs to fulfill. And I imagine there are plenty of women at your beck and call to take care of those needs. You know, a woman in every port.”
After pushing his bowl to one side, he clasped his hands in front of him and stared at her. “Think what you will, but I don’t care to discuss my love life.”
“Then you do have a love life.”
“Not anything to write home about.” He looked as if he’d regretted making that admission. Lizzie was glad he had. At least now she didn’t feel so alone in her celibacy.
“I can relate,” she said. “My love life is more or less nonexistent.”
That recaptured his attention. “Obviously you had one at some point since you’re pregnant.”
If he only knew the real circumstances behind the pregnancy. One couldn’t be wined and dined by a plastic catheter. “You’re right, let’s not go there.”
His crooked smile made a sudden showing. “Ah, come on now, Dorothy. You started this.”
She stood. “And it is now finished, Ahab.”
The lights flickered as Lizzie carried their plates to the sink. She stopped and stared at the ceiling. “What was that?”
Turning, she found Jack with his head lowered, the bridge of his nose pinched between two fingers as if he had one heck of a headache. Then came a long, frustrated sigh. “The batteries are going down. It’s only a matter of time before the lights go out completely.”
“Then we’re going to be completely in the dark?”
He looked up. “Yeah.”
“Do you have any candles?”
“Another rule. No candles on the boat, which means we need to conserve power.”
So much for creating a romantic ambience, Lizzie thought. “Flashlights?”
“A couple. But I’m out of extra batteries. I do have a kerosene lantern we can use until that fuel runs out.”
Just peachy. Lizzie leaned back against the counter. “Does this mean we’re going to have to eat cold food?”
“Yeah.”
“And take cold showers in the dark until we’re rescued?”
“Yeah. But I was planning on that anyway.” Coming to his feet, he headed toward the stairs. “Until the water runs out.”
“Where are you going?” Lizzie asked, following behind him in case he decided to shoot something else.
“To light some flares.”
“Can I help?”
He stopped and faced her. “You can watch.”
“That’s no fun,” she said with a grin. “I’d really rather participate.”
He inclined his head. “Would you?”
“Yes. Don’t you think it’s more productive when two people get in on the act?”
“That depends on the act.”
In a fit of feminine insanity, she brushed her bangs away from her forehead and attempted a coy look. “Did you have a particular act in mind?”
His silver eyes darkened with something mysterious and promising and overtly sensual. “Flares, Dorothy. We’re going to ignite some flares.”
Something else was igniting. Something new and different within Lizzie. Something combustible that had to do with chemistry, and not the kind one studied in high school. Combustion between a man and woman. Between Ahab and Dorothy.
Maybe Captain Jack didn’t want to acknowledge it now, but he would if Lizzie had any say-so in the matter. They were stranded and had to find some way to pass the time. Life was short, and no one could predict the future. She might as well go for it because this chance might never come again. The chance to experience what it would be like to have a strong, brooding sailor make love to her. A live, virile man. For the very first time.
Then once she returned to her life, she could take the experience with her. And on those lonely nights, she would bring out the memories to keep her company.
If Jackson Dunlap could be persuaded to cooperate.
Three
Jack sent up the flares, only two tonight. He’d save the other two for later if these didn’t happen to summon assistance.
“Oh, wow.”
He glanced at Lizzie who watched the cloudy sky with wonder, as if the display of light had been provided for entertainment.
“They’re so pretty,” she said, turning her amazing smile on him. “I remember thinking that very thing while watching Titanic.”
Good, God. “I don’t think we should go there, either, Dorothy.”
“Oh, pooh. It was a nice romantic movie, if you overlooked the ship sinking.”
“That’s my point. I’d rather not discuss sinking ships.”
“I guess you’re right.” As she backed up to the railing, her smile vanished but it didn’t detract from her wholesome looks. With her wispy layered blond hair framing her face, her wide, guileless blue-green eyes, she seemed almost childlike at times. Yet her body shouted woman. Jack’s gaze automatically drifted to her full breasts outlined against the thin fabric, confirming that fact.
Dragging his attention back to her face, Jack tried desperately to ignore her current state of undress, but with her wearing only his shirt and, he suspected, nothing else, his attempts at detachment were futile.
She didn’t seem to notice though, much to Jack’s relief. “Do you think someone will find us?” she asked evenly, but she couldn’t mask the concern in her voice.
“Eventually.”
She seemed doubly disturbed despite the reappearance of her smile. “Maybe in a day or two, right?”
He couldn’t bear to shatter her optimism, or to cause her more anxiety. “Probably.” If someone happened upon them. If the Coast Guard had been notified of their disappearance. If the storm didn’t hinder any kind of rescue. And if they were lucky, they had twenty-four hours left before they had to deal with that.
Determined to provide some hope, he said, “Look, we still have plenty to eat. Of course, you might have to give up your dietary requirements for the time being.”
Her hand came to rest with reverence on her abdomen. “I will do that for Hank’s sake. He needs food.” She wrinkled her nose. “Even if it is some kind of questionable goulash.”
Jack admired her commitment to her child. Admired her ability to look on the sunny side of the situation. If only he could be that sanguine, but unfortunately he was far too jaded in general, in spite of his financial success.
The waves picked up, jarring the boat. Lizzie lost her footing and luckily Jack was close enough to catch her, close enough to smell her feminine scent mixed with sea air as she looped her arms around his neck.
“Whoa there, Dorothy.”
“Sorry. Guess I don’t have my sea legs yet.”
She had great legs, Jack thought, and they were brushing against his at the moment. Even though he was wearing chinos, he could still imagine how her bare skin would feel against his. How she would feel beneath him.
He really should let her go, but what if she fell again? She did, closer against him. “Isn’t good balance required when you’re in a balloon?” he asked, surprised at the grainy quality of his voice, at his body’s swift reaction to her nearness. At his resistance to turn her loose, which had absolutely nothing to do with courtesy.
“Not really,” she said in a wistful tone. “You have very little sense of movement in a hot air balloon. It’s as if you’re standing still, and the whole world is falling away from beneath you.”
Jack experienced that same sensation at the moment. He felt as if something inside him was falling away, namely his opposition to anything that threatened his solitary life, his emotional fortitude. “Sounds great.”
“It is great,” she said on a sigh, her eyes linked with his as solidly as her arms circled his neck. “It’s incredible.”
So was she, Jack decided. Incredible attitude. Incredible eyes, both wise and innocent. Incredible breasts pressed against his chest. And a very incredible mouth. Although it made no sense, he wanted to know that mouth intimately. Soon. Now.
There was no wisdom in his contemplation, no hesitation in the kiss. He simply took it, grabbed for the brass ring, as he’d done most of his life. Success had not come to him without risk, but the way Lizzie responded to his exploration—the slide of his tongue against hers, the way phenomenal heat coursed through his body—this attraction to her was more than risky.
As if he’d literally been burned, Jack pulled her arms from around his neck and placed her hands on the rail to steady her. Unfortunately, he wasn’t feeling all that grounded, and it wasn’t due to his lack of sea legs. “I don’t know why I did that.”
She touched her lips with long slender fingertips. “I know why.”
“Yeah? Mind explaining it to me?”
Her grin came with the force of a gale. “You’re a boy, and I’m a girl. It’s nighttime, and we just enjoyed some fireworks.”
He couldn’t deny that. He also couldn’t deny that he wanted her in a big way, but he couldn’t act on that need. He had to remember she was pregnant and needed much more than he could give, emotionally speaking. He had to remember that in a matter of days she would be gone, and he would be back to his old life, exactly the way he wanted it—alone, with no concerns beyond his own welfare. With no worries of letting anyone down.
“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.
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