Marooned with a Millionaire (4 page)

“You're going to think I'm a big chicken.”

Considering she'd displayed little fear after her ordeal, and she'd chosen to raise a child on her own, he could honestly say he'd never known a more courageous woman. “I seriously doubt that.”

“Yes, you will.”

“Try me.” If only he could allow that in the literal sense.

She sighed. “I really don't like being alone.”

Funny, Jack thought, since he preferred to be alone. “You don't live alone?”

“No…yes. I didn't until last week. My roommate, Ian, moved in with someone else.”

“You had a male roommate?”

“A very good friend.”

“Only a friend?” Now, why had he asked that? And worse, he'd actually sounded jealous.

“Yes. You seem surprised.”

He was. Very. “Personally, I'd have a hard time living with a woman for an extended period and keeping it on a platonic level.”

“You don't have any women friends?” Now she sounded shocked.

“No, guess not.”

“You really should try it.” He saw a flash of white teeth and heard the smile in her voice. “Maybe it would enable you to get in touch with your feminine side.”

He'd rather get in touch with her feminine side. “So were you and this Ian pretty close?”

“Yes, you could say that. Until he found the love of his life.”

From her tone, Jack wondered if she hadn't been completely honest. Maybe she'd had a thing for this guy at one time. It was none of his business, but he had to ask. “Is he the father of your child?”

“Oh, no. It wasn't that way between us. I worked with him at a day spa and salon, before I established my balloon business.”

“Is he gay?”

She scowled. “Not every guy who cuts hair for a living is gay.”

“I didn't mean that. I meant it seems kind of odd that you and he wouldn't have…you know. Gotten together.”

She glanced away. “It wouldn't have worked. Ian has always been very fond of beautiful women. His newest girlfriend is a model. So you can see why I wouldn't be his type.”

Jack pondered that for a moment. Obviously she had little insight into her attractiveness, a basic beauty that went far beyond physical qualities, not that she was lacking in those either. Maybe she didn't see herself as model material, but Jack sure as heck had noticed all her finer points, and she had more than a few.

She was also full of surprises. Considering her iron will, he would never have guessed that she'd have a problem with being alone. Quite different from his attitude. “I've personally found that it's not so bad
being by yourself. Fewer problems that way. No having to get used to another person's habits.”

“Ian was the perfect roommate,” Lizzie said adamantly. “He was always there when I needed him.”

“But not anymore, huh?”

“Oh, he'll always be there, just not in the same way. I'll try to find a new roommate when I get home. Or I might wait until after the baby's born.”

“Another guy?”

“Probably. But until then, I'll manage just fine.”

“Then what's the problem tonight?”

She shrugged. “I guess it's because this is a strange place. Strange sounds and stuff. I'll feel more comfortable knowing you're in the next room.”

He'd only feel more comfortable with her in the next country, and his discomfort had centered itself below his belt. Right now it was all he could do not to touch her, kiss away her concern, make love to her until dawn. Maybe even after dawn.

Why the hell he wanted to do all those things, Jack couldn't say. He barely knew her. He had yet to spend twenty-four hours with her. And she was pregnant. But he had to admit that the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd wanted her in some crazy, elemental way.

Lust, pure and simple, he tried to tell himself, even though he couldn't recall the last time a woman had affected him so strongly. Admittedly he had desired a few women after only limited contact, but that had never gone beyond animal attraction.

Lizzie was different. Lizzie was special. Lizzie
was driving him to distraction and she probably would as long as she graced his boat.

“You are cold,” he said when he noticed her slight tremor.

“Yeah, it's a bit chilly out here, especially when you don't have on a whole lot of clothes.”

He didn't need to hear that, or think about it, but he did. In vivid detail. His sail suddenly went to full mast, and not the one on his boat. Even though she probably couldn't see his current predicament, Jack turned his back to her. “I'll be down in a few minutes. I promise.”

“Okay. I'll be fine until then. Just stick your head in the door and let me know that you're back.”

He'd like to do more than that. He'd like to climb into bed with her and warm her up with his hands and his mouth. “I'll be sure to do that.” If only he could do more. He could, but he wouldn't.

Gripping the rail, Jack let out the breath he'd been holding when he heard the sound of footfalls heading away from him.

“One more thing, Captain.”

So much for a return to normal respiration and slow deflation. “Yeah.”

“You have a really nice boat.”

“Thanks.”

“And your butt's not so bad, either.”

 

“Ahab, what is this?” Lizzie called from the head the next morning.

No way was Jack going to make the same mistake
again by walking in on her during her bath. “What is what?”

“This big silver bowl behind the bathroom door. It looks like some kind of a trophy.”

It was, the last he'd won before tragedy struck. The last good race. “I use it as a doorstop.” Not exactly the truth. He didn't want the reminders so he'd hidden it away when the memories had become too overwhelming. He'd basically forgotten it was there, intentionally so.

The bathroom door creaked open and Jack braced himself for Lizzie's appearance. Hopefully she'd put her own clothes back on.

All hope faded when she appeared before the sofa where he was now seated having his coffee and a strong urge to kiss her again. She wore his yellow polo that stopped at her thighs, but unlike the T-shirt it had a slit up each side, allowing him a glimpse of the curve of one buttock and, fortunately, her underwear. At least she had those on, not that it really mattered. She could be wearing a trench coat covering flannel pajamas and it wouldn't make a difference to Jack and his persistent parts.

She presented him with her usual smile. “Hope you don't mind but I rummaged around in your drawers last night.”

Jack would have definitely remembered that. “What drawers?”

“Your bathroom drawers, looking for a spare toothbrush. I found one and used it. Hope that's okay.”

He only minded that she was way too cute to ignore. “That's fine.”

She removed the towel wrapped like a turban around her head, bent forward and began furiously drying her blond hair. “You'd be so proud of me. I barely used any water. Just enough for a good spit and shine.”

At the moment she was giving Jack quite a show, her bare breasts visible because of the open collar on the shirt. He tried to look away but his eyes might as well have been cemented to her chest. The more she rubbed, the more she jiggled, and the more she jiggled, the more Jack squirmed.

Finally, she straightened and surveyed his face. “Is something wrong?”

Yeah. He was hard as a handlebar with no relief in sight. “I didn't get much sleep.” Thanks to her.

“You know what you need?”

Oh, yeah. He knew exactly what he needed—to take off what little clothes she now wore and get down to business. “No. What do I need?”

“A haircut. And a shave wouldn't hurt.”

“I've already shaved. Early this morning.”

“A heavy beard, I see.” She narrowed her eyes and studied him as if she was an artist sizing up her subject. “If you have a pair of scissors, I could cut your hair.”

“I'm not sure I trust you to do that.”

“You should. I was a stylist before I opened my balloon business. I'm rather good.”

He would just bet she was. “Maybe I like my hair the way it is.”

Seating herself on the sofa facing him in a display of long limbs and feminine wiles, she brought her bent knees to her chest. “Just a trim so it will be a little neater.”

Man, she was stubborn. “If I let you do this, will you leave me alone to work on the boat?”

“Sure. I'd like to work on my tan.”

“Last time I checked, there wasn't any sun.”

“Are you sure?” She scooted off the sofa, walked to the porthole and drew back the curtain. “That looks like the sun to me.”

When Jack finally took his attention away from Lizzie's legs and brought it to the window, he realized she was right. He would've wagered his fortune that the skies would remain overcast. Maybe he shouldn't be at all surprised. If Lizzie wanted sun, she would probably get sun. In fact, he figured she was rarely denied anything if she put her mind to it.

“You better hurry and get out on deck,” he said. “I doubt the sun will be with us for very long.”

She turned from the window. “First, the haircut.”

No point arguing with her, Jack decided. “Fine. The scissors are in the galley, third drawer to the left of the sink.”

“I'll go get them and you take a seat at the table.” She tossed him the towel. “Slip off your shirt and wrap this around your shoulders.”

He saluted. “Anything else, Major?”

She laughed. “You're the second person who's called me Major, but I believe the last time it was followed by ‘pain in the butt.'”

He rose from the sofa and slipped his shirt over
his head then tossed it aside. “Are you always so high maintenance, Dorothy?”

“Not really, Ahab. I'm just the kind of person who knows what she wants and then does her darnedest to get it.”

Not so unlike him, Jack thought. He'd spent his life being that driven.

Right now Lizzie looked as though she wanted something from him, something sweet and seductive, apparent by the way her gaze slid over his bare chest.

Her eyes widened and so did her smile. “You're in really great shape. Do you work out often?”

He had one particular workout in mind, but it didn't involve weights. “Only in the sense of maintaining the boat.”

She moved closer. “I guess you just come by it naturally, then.”

In order to get his thoughts back on course and his body back under control, Jack said, “Speaking of working, I'm going to try and get the engine to turn over. The alternator charges the batteries so we'll have some lights.”

Following a sexy shake of her hair, she sauntered toward the adjacent galley. “I really don't mind the darkness, as long as you're here.”

Jack wasn't totally in the dark about what she intended to do with him, to him. She'd been doing it since her arrival. Question was, would he have the strength to deny her?

A day ago, he might have said yes. But today, he wasn't at all sure about anything, except for the fact that Lizzie Matheson was totally disrupting his life. And he was beginning to like it.

T
he man had a fine head of hair to match his equally fine bod, Lizzie thought while she started to work on Jack's trim. She didn't like cutting hair dry but she didn't dare ask him to wet it considering water was a precious commodity. While he sat silently in the swivel chair anchored to the dining-room table, she started with the back, snipping a little here, layering a little there. She had one heck of a time keeping her attention on her task, especially when she moved in front of him and faced his remarkable chest peeking out from the towel she'd draped across his broad shoulders. If she didn't do a better job of concentrating, he'd end up with a reverse Mohawk.

Fine strands of hair rained down onto the towel and she took the opportunity to periodically brush them away, noting that every time she flicked her
fingertips over his chest and belly, his muscles tightened. This had to be the most fun she'd ever had giving a man a haircut.

“Are you almost done?” Jack's voice fell somewhere between a growl and a plea, the first words he had spoken since she'd begun.

“Patience, Ahab. You have a lot of hair.”

“Until you got your hands on it,” he muttered.

She could continue for an hour and still have plenty to work with. “You know something, your boat really needs a name.”

He glanced up at her, a hint of irritation in his expression. “It has a name.”

She slid her fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft texture against her palm. “So what is it?”

“Hannah.”

A woman's name. Lizzie probably shouldn't be surprised at all, nor should she be jealous. But she had to admit she was. Naming a boat after a woman was as intimate as having a woman's name tattooed on a body part. She wondered if, in fact, Jack did sport a tattoo in places she had yet to see. Maybe she should do a full body search. That thoroughly nice thought made her shiver.

“Is Hannah someone special?” Her voice came out sounding like an animated version of her own, high-pitched, nervous.

“Yeah, she was.”

Was? It dawned on Lizzie that maybe this Hannah person, whom she already disliked strongly, possibly broke Jack's heart. Maybe that was why he'd taken
to the sea, alone. Maybe he was still pining away for the shrew.

All the more reason to take his mind off his troubles, Lizzie decided. Of course, he hadn't been all that cooperative. Somehow, someway, she would concoct a plan, a means to convince him that they might as well make good use of their time together. She doubted anything permanent could ever exist between them so she would settle for temporary. An affair.

She'd never had an affair and perhaps that was why it sounded so harsh, unfeeling. Still, emotions would have to remain absent from the mix. No problem. After all, she prided herself on her sound emotional stability. So what if she cooed over kittens, cried over movies, sighed at love songs? She vowed to remain grounded.

Remaining grounded—literally—became a chore as the boat pitched, swayed, and then pitched again. She fell forward against Jack with her breasts practically adhered to his face.

He nudged her back and stared up at her, his palms planted firmly on her hips, his silver eyes dark and intense. “You're dangerous, Dorothy.”

She anchored her hands on his broad shoulders—solid strength curved against her palms. She attempted a weak smile. “I dropped the scissors behind the chair, so I'm not armed.”

“Yeah, you are.” His gaze homed in on her breasts. “Your body should be registered as a lethal weapon.”

Lizzie's body felt like a miniature grenade, ready
to detonate if he so much as touched her intimately. She wished he would touch her. She wished he would give up that steel resolve and pretend for one second that she was a desirable woman.

As if he sensed her longing, he traced a slow line with one long finger down the crevice between her breasts, exposed by the sagging placket on the shirt that was much too big. His eyes followed the movement and so did Lizzie's. With fascination she watched his blunt fingertip move up again, then down again, tracing the chain at her neck before stopping at the middle of her chest where the button created a barrier. With little effort, he freed the button, then another, leaving the fabric gaping, leaving Lizzie winded and wanting as she'd never wanted before. An odd little sound escaped her mouth.

He brought his gaze to her lips and his hand back to her hip, probably to push her away. Lizzie kept her eyes pinned on his, challenging him to continue. She saw a glimmer of hesitation before he parted the fabric wider then lowered his head to streak his tongue down the path his finger had taken.

Oh my, oh my, oh my… Oh, yes.

“You're too damn tempting,” he murmured against her chest.

The next thing Lizzie knew, she was being swept up into Jack's strong arms. He fell back onto the couch, bringing her across his lap. The towel had fallen away from his shoulders during the move and Lizzie took advantage of the moment while Jack took her mouth with a breath-robbing kiss. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, holding her close
against him while his right hand gently kneaded her breasts beneath the opening of the gaping shirt. She sent her own hand on a journey across the mat of hair on his chest, her fingertips playing his nipple much the same as he played hers. His tongue made passes between her lips almost in sync with the sway of the boat.

Jack dropped his hand from her breast and much to Lizzie's delight, slipped it beneath the shirt's hem. Never before had she wanted a man so badly, wanted him to soothe the intimate ache, which seemed exactly where Jack was heading as he palmed her abdomen. Then as if her belly had grown fangs, he pulled his hand back.

He broke the kiss and looked at her for a long, torturous moment. “We can't do this.”

As easily as he'd scooped her into his arms, he slid from beneath her and stood, leaving her sprawled out on the sofa, the shirt gaping and her legs parted in a very unladylike manner.

“Where are you going?” she asked, her voice laced with frustration and unanswered need.

He snapped up his shirt from the sofa's arm and slipped it back on. “I'm going to try to start the boat.”

Obviously he was bent on leaving her in a state of sexual suspension. Anger took the place of unanswered desire. “You're a tease, Ahab.”

He scowled. “I'm smart, Dorothy. You and I both know this is stupid. You're pregnant.”

She scooted up on the sofa and planted her feet on the floor. “I'm not deceased.” She leveled a
pointed look at his distended fly. “And neither are you.”

“I don't intend to get tangled up with anyone.”

“Is that emotionally or physically?” she answered with defiance in her tone.

“Neither.”

Lizzie came to her feet and stared at him straight on. “Why is that, Ahab? Did someone break that heart of yours?”

He streaked a hand over his shadowed jaw. “No, Dorothy, no one broke my heart.” He said it with conviction, leading Lizzie to believe she'd been on the wrong track where his past was concerned.

She took a determined step toward him. “Then why did you bail out from life? What drove you here, all alone on your boat?”

“I like being alone. I don't want any complications.”

“I didn't ask you for forever, did I? It's only a means to pass the time, Ahab. A man and a woman taking pleasure in each other. Nothing more complicated than that.” Something that was totally alien to Lizzie, and probably the reason why the declaration sounded phony, even to her own ears.

He sent her a suspicious look. “That's all you want is sex? I don't believe it.”

“You don't know anything about me.”

“I know that I'm not the man you need.”

“I never said I needed a man, at least not in the way you're suggesting.”

His ensuing smile was cynical. “Maybe not, but
you're the kind of woman who can make a man forget who he is, what he wants.”

She moved before him and touched his cheek. “What do you want, Jack Dunlap?”

“My solitude.”

With that he turned and made his way toward the bow, leaving Lizzie alone to deal with her disappointment. But she had to admit he was probably right; he wasn't the man she needed. In fact, she had never needed a man other than her father. She hadn't needed a man to have a baby, at least not all of one. Then why did she have this almost desperate need for Jack Dunlap? Because she had basic feminine needs? If so, Lizzie had no clue why he'd been the one to arouse those desires.

But it was more than that. She'd always been a sucker for lost souls, and Jack Dunlap was as lost as any man she'd ever known. Oh, he had tried to hide it beneath an iron facade, but Lizzie had witnessed a glimpse of vulnerability, of pain, in his eyes.

Needing a diversion, Lizzie opted to continue with her plan to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted, even if her attitude had taken a sour turn. She strode into the bathroom, yanked an oversize towel from the cabinet then rummaged around for some sunscreen. Not finding any, she decided she would have to limit her time outside. Besides, Jack had already generated enough heat within her; she didn't need to go totally up in flames.

Lizzie stomped onto the bow and shook out the towel with a vengeance then laid it on the fiberglass deck, muttering an inventory of insults aimed at her
very stubborn host. She paused for a moment to consider her clothing situation. She had no swimsuit, only a bra and panties. Her bra was still hanging in the bathroom. She could go retrieve it, or she could go topless. Who would see her anyway? The captain of the ship, but only if he decided to seek her out, and she doubted he would. Even if he did, he'd already seen just about everything.

Lizzie stretched out on her belly wearing only her panties, her cheek resting on her folded arms. The sun beat down on her back as her heart beat a crazy rhythm in her chest when she recalled their interlude. Jack had wanted her—that much she knew—a least from a physical standpoint. He'd said she was tempting. Apparently not tempting enough to entice him into a little extracurricular activity. Chances were, he'd probably had plenty of women in his bed. Women who were more experienced, more sophisticated, more beautiful.

Lizzie wasn't really any of those things, nor had that bothered her before. She'd been happy just being herself, and she still was. If Jack didn't appreciate her qualities, too bad. After they were safely back on land, she would leave him behind to start over, make plans, make a good life with her child.

Who could ask for more?

Lizzie could. Oh yes, she could. She couldn't deny that having a real father for her baby—a wonderful father like her own—was nagging at her. She couldn't deny that having the love and respect of a good man was, too. Even though it was silly to consider that Jack might be that man, she refused to give
up on him even if he'd given up on himself. If she couldn't gain his complete attention, then perhaps she could learn more about him, learn what made him so sad, aid in bringing him back to the land of the living. It was definitely worth a try.

 

If Jack could harness the energy below his belt to power the boat, they could return to port in record time. Several times he'd glanced out the windows of the interior pilothouse at Lizzie who was lying half-naked within his view, to his libido's detriment. She had no idea he was watching her, didn't have a clue what she was doing to him at that moment. She was driving him nuts with her questions, driving him to distraction with her sensuality. Worse, she was threatening to make him let down his guard.

Five more seconds on the sofa and he would have known every inch of Lizzie's knockout body. If he hadn't had the presence of mind to remember she was pregnant, right now he would probably have his hands all over her and his mind on anything but their predicament.

The sensual visions kicked his body back to life and caused him to release a harsh groan. He didn't need this. He didn't need her. Hell, he didn't need anything except a return to his normal life. He did need to make sure that she was safe while in his care. But only safe, and that didn't include sex.

Regardless, he couldn't seem to stop imagining what it would be like to make love to her. Would all that passion for living she retained manifest itself during lovemaking? Probably, and a very dangerous
prospect. He'd been serious when he'd told her that he didn't want any complications. Lizzie could be one giant complication. She already was. Not only did he want her, he liked her. He liked her smile, her wit, her easy manner. And man, she had eyes that could stop him dead in his tracks. Eyes that damn well seemed to see through him. Everything he should avoid in a woman. But he couldn't avoid her.

He also couldn't keep focused on anything but the vision she presented outside the tinted window as she lay stretched out before him—the curve of her back, the dip of her spine, the rise of her buttocks highlighted in great detail by the sun's rays. At least she was on her stomach, keeping her fantastic breasts from view.

She raised her head for a moment and stared up at the sky. Then she abruptly stood, snatched up the towel and sprinted off the deck. Jack wondered if she'd noticed the bank of clouds moving toward them and maybe feared being struck by lightning. If anyone deserved that fate, it would be him, considering his questionable thoughts.

“Ahab!” echoed from down below followed by a flurry of footsteps.

Jack moved from the helm and stood at the top of the three steps leading to the pilothouse. “Up here.”

Lizzie appeared at the bottom of the landing and stared up at him, the towel wrapped around her and excitement flashing in her blue-green eyes. “I saw a plane flying above us!”

The best news he'd had in days. “Coast Guard?”

She frowned. “No. I think it was a private plane.
I didn't stay on the deck long enough to make out too many details.”