Island Promises (7 page)

“I have some work to do on deck.”

She thought about a million things to say but in the end decided to clamp her mouth shut, take his advice, and try to sleep. She allowed herself a little smirk, a slight sense of satisfaction that she was leaving him as frustrated and lonely as he had left her.

Reprieve
seemed relieved to be left alone. The boat nearly sighed with at the end of the week when the frat boys packed up their duffels and their hangovers and went home.

She, Joe, Mitchell, and Anthony were left with the aftermath and they had been cleaning almost all day. The college frat boys had been far from neat. Big surprise there. Beer cans rolled out from under bunks, dirty magazines were crumpled in the lockers, and potato chips were crushed in the bed sheets.

Just before sunset, Mitchell and Anthony headed off to spend the night onshore. “I’ve smelled enough disinfectant for one day,” Mitchell had grumbled.

While Joe cooked dinner, giving Riley an “are you for real?” look when she half-heartedly offered, she lugged soap and shampoo to the marina bathroom and scrubbed herself. After dinner he hiked to the showers. When he came back smelling of coconut aftershave, she went below and made them a pitcher of rum drink.

“Invented this myself.” She poured him a glass as they settled in the cockpit. There was not much of a moon tonight; the sky was as deep a black as she had ever seen. Even the marina’s one pitiful light couldn’t block out the thousands, maybe billions, of stars.

“Hey, that’s not bad.” He took a long swig of the drink.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she said. “Stanley taught me. Some pineapple juice, some coconut, a little sugar, and a lot of rum.”

They drank, staring up at the stars.

“It’s a night for wishing on stars,” she said, her head lolled back, gazing upward. She was on her second drink. The rum was kicking in, making her feel warm and generous. She was conscious of Joe beside her, so close she felt she could hear his heartbeat. “What do you wish?” She turned to him.

Instead of answering, he took her glass, set it in the drink holder, leaned into her, and kissed her. She should have been shocked, or at least surprised, but she wasn’t. He kissed her gently, holding her face between his hands. When he inched back, his fingers massaging her cheeks, she felt lost. The only solution was to kiss him and she did, hard and needy.

“Let’s go below,” he said against her mouth.

They were barely inside his cabin, when he pushed her up against the wall, kissing her neck, his large, rough hands on either side of her waist. His hair smelled of sun and sea salt, his skin coarse from hard work outside.

She lost herself in the feel of him, in the sensations he teased out of her. She moaned and he put his mouth close to her ear, his hot breath tickling the sensitive nerves. “We can’t be too loud,” he whispered. “Sound can carry over the water.”

They would make love with their eyes, their hands, their tongues, but not with their voices. The thought made Riley want to shout for joy. Suppressing the urge was causing the tumult inside her to build to an even higher crescendo. Her body shuddered with the effort to keep all she felt just between the two of them.

“I want you,” Joe whispered, moving his hands under her T-shirt, caressing the indent where her ribs gave way to her waistline. “You drive me mad. Watching you all day.”

She couldn’t help herself she let out a sigh. He moved his hand over her mouth, gently tugging at her bottom lip. “Shhh,” he said. “I know it’s hard . . .”

Riley twined her fingers in his hair and brought his head to her chest. He was breathing hard, his hands roaming under her shirt, moving around to her back, fiddling with the clasp on her bra. He freed it and moved once again to her front where his hard fingers worked the soft skin of her breasts. It was too much and she clutched him, one hand grabbing his shoulder, the other his hair.

Joe ignited every part of her. His bleached jean shorts rubbed against the smooth skin of her inner thighs. A few inches higher she could feel him, hard and yearning, straining against the denim fabric, grinding against her pelvis, seeking entrance to the part of her that gave her life, gave her passion.

She wanted him just as much as he wanted her. Wanted to feel his bare skin against every inch of her, wanted to feel his weight on her, wanted his toned, hard muscles straining against her gentler, softer tissue.

He put his mouth on her breast, teasing the tip with his tongue, circling around it, letting his warm saliva settle on her bare skin. She arched back, glad she was against the wall to hold her up.

His erection was pushing against her and with everything she had she pushed back, loving the feel of the hardness, the promise of how it would feel inside her. He stepped back just far enough to slide his shirt over his head and discard it on the cabin sole. For a long moment he simply studied her, both of them naked from the waist up. The only light was the star light shining through the port hole, bright enough for them to see each other but dim enough to disguise all the imperfections.

Stepping toward her, Joe put one hand behind her head, the other in the small of her back and laid her down on the narrow bunk. He lay down next to her, their chests touching, their skin creating a heat that burned right to Riley’s core.

He began to stroke her all over, from her cheeks, down her sides, over her breasts. When he got to the place between her legs, still covered by her shorts and panties, he began to rub, gently at first, then speeding up. There was something so sensuous with the material still between them; something that let the passion burn longer and brighter before it would be tamed. She was reduced to the basest level—to feelings and nerves and intuition.

He was fumbling at the rope that held up her shorts, trying to untie it. His chest hair danced against her exposed stomach, his breath fell heavily on her neck, his legs pinned hers open.

“For a sailor you’re having an awful hard time with that knot,” she teased, her lips close against his ear. He shivered and then ducked his head, using his teeth on the knot. With another moan, Riley lay back, waiting for him to free her from the rest of her clothes, waiting for the length of his body to press against hers, waiting for him to part her legs, settle himself on top of her and release them both from this unbearable tension.

She was slipping over the edge when
Reprieve
began to rock wildly. Riley held on to Joe who took one hand off her rear and used it to anchor them both by grabbing onto the magazine rack above the bunk. Outside there were shouts and the drone of a boat motor. The wake of a nearby boat was engulfing them, forcing
Reprieve
from side-to-side.

The noise and the motion broke the spell. Riley opened her eyes. She was half-dressed in a boat cabin with a man she had detested only weeks before. What was she doing? He bent to kiss her breast again but instead of pleasure she felt coldness.

Suddenly she couldn’t breathe. The cabin was closing in on her. In the small space they were using up all the air. It wasn’t big enough for the two of them. They were going to suffocate here.

She fled. Pulling the blanket around her, she pushed him off of her, went as fast as she could down the narrow aisle of the main cabin, bumping her shins and her hips in the dark. By feel, she climbed the ladder in the companionway and burst out onto the deck. She doubled over, grasping for breath, scared and crying. Air, she felt she couldn’t get any air. It was all around her but it wouldn’t go into her lungs. She would have screamed in panic but she didn’t have the breath for it.

Strong arms grabbed her around the waist and held something over her mouth. Someone was trying to suffocate her. Riley put up her hands to fight back but she was too disoriented, too frightened and one of the strong arms grasped both hers and held them away while the other held the thing firmly over her mouth.

“Breathe,” he whispered in her ear. “Quit fighting and breathe.”

Instinct was stronger than reason and Riley struggled as hard as she could, wriggling, jabbing, thrashing. Gradually the struggle ebbed out of her and she found she was breathing easier. Beautiful, sweet oxygen was being sucked into the bottom of her lungs. Her chest was expanding and her throat was opening.

The apparatus that had been held to her mouth fell away and the strong arms lessened their grip. They were still touching her, steadying her as she wilted down to the bench.

“Better?” Joe sat beside her, watching her closely. “You hyperventilated,” he said in answer to the question in her eyes. “Paper bag.” He held up the crumpled wad that he’d pressed over her mouth and nose.

Ashamed, embarrassed, Riley tugged the blanket tighter around her while she moved away from him. “That’s never happened to me before.” She was still shaking, afraid the terrible clawing need for air would return.

“I have that effect on women.” He smiled briefly.

“How’d you know what to do? How can you be so certain that’s what it was?” Her brain was screaming that she must be the victim of some terrible disease. Some jungle rot thing she’d contracted in the islands. She had wanted to punish him, to tease him, but not at her own expense.

“Sometimes people hyperventilate when they realize we’ve pulled away from land, that we’re in the middle of the sea. We keep a supply of paper bags. It usually works.” He went below and came back with a glass of what smelled like spiced wine for her and a beer for himself. “Drink it,” he commanded, “it will help.”

They were quiet for a few moments. She was shivering even though the temperature had not dropped enough to make her cold.

“I can’t believe this happened to me,” she finally said

“Why? Because you’re too tough to lose it once in a while? Everybody has a breaking point.”

“I can’t think of myself like that. I can’t be who I am, do what I do, and lose it like that. It’s not in the plan.”

“The plan to be a tough-assed, big-time reporter? Be with someone who matches you or is an even bigger, even more cold-hearted bastard? Jesus, Riley, that sounds like hell on earth.”

“Maybe to you.” What he said hurt but she wasn’t about to show it. If she’d learned anything over the past years clawing her way to the top it was that feelings were for amateurs.

“And maybe you’re not as tough as you thought you were. Just maybe that’s not a bad thing,” he said.

The marina was quiet at this time of night. The day sailors had gone home and the fishermen had stowed their gear for the night. Only the pinging of the shrouds against the mast and the gentle lap of the waves could be heard.

“I can’t think of myself like that,” she said again and hugged the blanket tighter, curling up more into herself. She was hanging on to who she was in Chicago, wrapping it around her.

“At the risk of sounding like a talk show host: why not? We all need stuff.” His long legs stuck out into the center of the cockpit.

“You don’t seem to need anything or anyone.”

He laughed low and deep. “Yeah, right. That’s because my needs have become very basic. I’ve traveled the world. Seen a lot. It taught me like the girl in the magic heels said ‘to look in my own backyard.’” He took a sip out of the beer he held. He was silhouetted in the dim light from the cabin. Riley could make out his shape but not his expression. “Now I know what I want. The love of a good woman. Family. To work on the sea.” He took a long slug from the beer. “Simple stuff. But so damn hard to find.”

“I left someone in Chicago.” Her voice was small.

He didn’t change his posture or his tone but he crushed the beer can in his fist. “I figured.” He paused. “So you love this guy?” When she didn’t answer, he asked, “This guy love you?”

The silence was uncomfortable. He was waiting but what could she answer? Chicago Riley had a relationship that worked around her career. She and RK lived together, made love together, and once in a while they actually said the love words to each other. But it had never been the kind of passionate all-in love her girlfriends talked about. How could she explain it to Joe when she wasn’t sure anymore how to explain it to herself?

“I’m beat.” He rose. “I’m hitting the bunk. I suggest you do the same.” When she didn’t move, he added, “You’ll be safe. You in your cabin, me in mine.”

She followed him down the companionway and, true to his word, he shut the door after her when she entered her cabin. As she waited, willing sleep to come, she heard him moving around on deck. Joe couldn’t sleep, even though he must be exhausted. For the second time in a week, she had caused him to lose sleep. Before she fell asleep herself she had the good grace to be a little ashamed.

The next day she and Mitchell were hanging out on the boat, Riley painting her toenails, Mitchell below planning out his menus for the next charter, when the tune of a rugged rock band broke into their conversation.

“My cell phone. It’s working. The outside world has found me.” Riley ran across the deck, pieces of rags flying from between her toes, and crawled on her belly across the cabin roof to get the phone she’d left drying in the sun.

“Hello.”

“Hey, babe, I thought you’d dropped off the end of the earth.”

“RK?” The sound of his voice, so familiar, so strong and so much like home, made her throat close up. “I’ve been trying to call you but my cell phone battery went dead when I dropped it. Everything else got ruined . . .”

“So are you enjoying the sun down there? Getting yourself some rest?”

The lump in her throat became cement. He had always done this to her—only listened when the subject concerned him or his needs. At first she had pleaded with him to listen to her. Looking at her with those clear, intense eyes that got the world to trust him, he’d said there was no sweeter music in the world than her voice. Only later when the magic had gone, did she realize he hadn’t responded to one word she’d said.

“RK, there have been some problems with the boat title.”

“Hang on for a minute.” She could hear him barking orders to someone. “So sorry, love, things are crazy here. You were saying?”

“The boat papers? Do you have them? They say we don’t own it.”

“That’s horseshit. Of course we own it. I’ll come down there myself and straighten it out.”

Relief flooded through her. He would come. Would rescue her. The next moment her mind filled with Joe, his strong body, his safe arms, his solid protectiveness. If Joe said he was coming, there was no doubt he would come. “When?”

“Soon. Right now we’re onto something big. One of the commissioner’s advisors was caught with a high school girl in a jazz club after hours. There are pictures. We’re trying to get our hands on one right now. But the guy who took them seems to think this will set him up for life. We keep trying to tell him this ain’t Hollywood.”