Marooned with a Millionaire (5 page)

“Did you try to flag it down?”

“Of course not. Are you insane?”

He was getting there. “That would be the logical thing to do.”

She pushed her hair back from her face. “I was practically naked. I didn't want anyone to think I'm some sort of exhibitionist.”

“Fine time to get modest on me, Dorothy,” he muttered.

“Well…I mean…the pilot could have been an older gentleman. I wouldn't want to be responsible for giving him a heart attack.”

Jack was balanced on having a little cardiac flare-up himself with her standing there wearing only a towel—a towel that hit her midthigh. One quick flick where she'd knotted it between her chest and it would drop to the ground at her feet like an anchor.

She looked contrite. “I'm sorry, Jack. I wasn't thinking.”

“That's okay. They probably would've thought you were just being friendly.” He brought his attention back to the view outside the window. “I'm guessing the storm will be on us soon.”

Lizzie stood on tiptoe and stared in the same direction. “It still looks fairly far in the distance.”

“Yeah, for now.”

He noted the alarm in her eyes when her gaze snapped to his. “Surely someone will rescue us soon.”

If only he believed that. “Hopefully. In the mean
time, I need to secure everything. We probably have a few hours, tops. The storm will probably hit at some point this evening, if not before.”

“I guess we'll just have to ride it out, huh?”

Damn her sunny attitude. Damn the images of taking her on another kind of wild ride. “Yeah.”

She flashed another beaming smile—then flashed him. Parted the towel and gave him a good glimpse of her bare breasts. “The offer still stands if you'd like a nice way to pass the time.”

The offer wasn't the only thing still standing. “Dorothy, one of these days your offers are going to get you into trouble.”

She tucked the towel back into place. “Gee, that's the kind of trouble that could be mighty fun.”

She swiveled on her heels and swayed back toward the main salon. Long after she was gone, all Jack saw was Lizzie Matheson. Him and her. Tangled together.

The boat's motor might fail to start, but Jack's motor was running full force.

 

Lizzie washed off with a damp rag and put her clothes back on, all of those she'd had on her person when she'd arrived on Jack's boat. Obviously she could dance stark naked on deck and Jack wasn't willing to give an inch—in both a literal and figurative sense.

When she left the bathroom, she heard the sound of voices. More than one. Had they been rescued?

Lizzie sprinted up the steps to the deck to find Jack speaking to two men pulled alongside the boat in a
smaller craft. One guy sported a scruffy goatee and a dirty white cap; the other man had a severe flattop and looked as if he hadn't missed a meal a day in his life.

Jack had his back to Lizzie, so she couldn't see his reaction to their visitors. She suspected he was greatly relieved. If they could catch a ride back to port, then he would be rid of her, once and for all.

When Lizzie made her way to Jack's side, Scruffy winked at her. “Howdy, ma'am. The captain here didn't tell us he had a pretty lady on board.”

Oh, get real. Lizzie decided he'd been a charm-school reject. “We're certainly glad to see you guys. For a while we thought—”

“That we're the only fools out here,” Jack interrupted.

“Having some problems?” Flattop said, leering at Lizzie as though she were an all-you-can-gorge buffet.

“The engine's not working,” Lizzie responded.

Jack sent her a cautioning look. “We're having a few problems. The mainsail blew out and my engine's having problems cranking. I'm working on that now.”

“We can give you a ride back to port,” Scruffy offered.

Lizzie grinned. “That would be—”

“Unnecessary.” Jack slipped his arm around her waist, taking Lizzie by surprise. “We don't want to leave the boat. My wife and I are on our honeymoon.”

Wife? Honeymoon? Lizzie bit back the urge to say
she was still impatiently waiting for the consummation.

Jack brushed a kiss across her lips, shocking her into silence. “We haven't really minded being stranded, if you catch my drift.”

The seedy duo cackled. “Yeah, we know exactly what you mean,” Scruffy said, followed by another wink. “Anything we can do? We wouldn't mind taking your lady back to port with us until help arrives.”

Jack gave Lizzie another squeeze. “I can't stand being a moment without her.”

Flattop pulled a toothpick from his shirt pocket and flipped it between his bulbous lips. “Well, we'd be glad to call for help but our radio's shorted out. Problems with yours?”

“Yeah.” Jack sounded as if he didn't want to make that admission. “I should have it repaired soon.”

Scruffy shot a glance over his shoulder. “Hope you get it fixed soon. The storm's looking real bad, a nasty northwesterly that's gonna push you out to sea. That's why we're going in. Hate to have to cut short our fishing trip because of the weather, but that's just luck of the draw.”

Lizzie tried to temper Jack's scowl by turning on the sugar-sweet act. “Do you fellows mind notifying the Coast Guard when you're back in port?” She whisked a kiss over Jack's jaw and patted his chest. “My
husband
and I would greatly appreciate it.”

Flattop started the boat. “Will do. In the meantime, batten down the hatches. It's gonna get rough.
The weather service is calling for gale-force winds. Are you sure you don't want to ride back with us?”

“She's sure,” Jack said gruffly.

Lizzie felt the first tiny frisson of anxiety over the loss of their only human lifeline, and she used the term “human” loosely. “Thanks, but I'll stay here with my hubby. He'll take good care of me.”

Jack tensed against her side as Flattop said, “Good luck and have a good time.” Their raucous laughter could be heard over the engine's roar as they sped off.

Once they disappeared over the horizon, Jack dropped his arm from around Lizzie and started away.

“Wait a minute, Ahab.”

He turned, his expression taut, his eyes holding the cast of concern. “What?”

“Why didn't you let me go with them?”

He folded his arms across his chest, looking altogether perturbed. “Not a banner idea.”

“Why? If I'd gone with them, I could have made the call for help myself.”

“You would have never made it to port. Those guys would have had their way with you then tossed you overboard.”

“How do you know that? They looked pretty harmless. I mean, they're fishermen.”

“Did you see any fishing equipment?”

Lizzie thought a moment. “No, I guess I didn't, but then I wasn't paying that much attention.”

“Well, I was, Dorothy. Chances are they're smugglers.”

“Maybe you're wrong. Maybe they're what they say they are, just innocent fishermen.”

“Innocent?” Jack's laugh held no mirth. “Didn't you notice the way they looked at you? You have no idea what men like that could do to a defenseless woman.”

“I'm not entirely defenseless, Ahab. I'm not stupid, either.”

“You are too trusting, Dorothy. Your sassy mouth might work on me, but it wouldn't help you with those two miscreants.”

“My sassy mouth works on you?” She sauntered up to him. “How does it work on you?”

His gaze slipped to the mouth in question. “It drives me crazy.”

She laced her hands around his neck and pressed against him. “Is that in a good way?”

“Lizzie, behave yourself.”

She wiggled against him. “Why?”

“Because I'm not going to kiss you again, dammit.”

This time Lizzie opted to let it go—for now. She dropped her arms and took a step back. “So what now, Ahab?”

He glanced away. “We wait and hope they do call someone. If not, we'll just have to ride out the storm the best we can.”

Not the answer she'd wanted. “Jack, be honest with me. Just how bad is our situation?”

He let go a harsh sigh. “The batteries should be down completely by dusk. The water's just about gone. We have enough bottled water and food to last
a couple more days. Unfortunately, we're drifting away from shore, right into the storm's path.”

Lizzie refused to believe that someone wouldn't come to rescue them soon. She refused to believe that Jack couldn't find some way to keep her and Hank safe, get them back to shore, if not tomorrow, then the next day. She refused to believe that they wouldn't survive the storm. If she didn't, she would give in to fear, and she refused to do that, too.

Her hand automatically went to the necklace at her throat. Hadn't her dad always told her that her mother was her guardian angel? And now he was with her, both of them watching over Lizzie.

Lizzie sent up a quick prayer to her mom and dad, the same as she had when she'd spotted Jack's boat the day before. Her parents hadn't failed her then; they wouldn't fail her now.

Feeling a bit more relaxed, Lizzie presented Jack with her best smile, albeit a shaky one. “I know it will all work out, Ahab. I feel it in my bones.”

His smile came halfway but it didn't conceal the concern in his eyes. “I'm going to trust you on that one, Dorothy.”

Lizzie laid her palm on his jaw. “I trust you, Jack. I know that you'll do whatever you can to keep me and Hank safe.”

 

Jack watched Lizzie return below, burdened by the faith she had bestowed upon him. She had no idea how cruel and unpredictable the elements could be, how even the most skilled sailor could easily become the sea's victim. She had no clue that he had once
thought himself capable of mastering the rankest of storms. How quickly he had learned that arrogance was no match for nature. How in one horrendous moment he had suffered the loss of two of his most faithful friends because of a choice he'd had to make between saving his crew and a woman who never should have been onboard in the first place. His weakness to resist that persistent woman had cost him. It was still costing him, at least when it came to his peace.

And now he was charged with keeping another woman safe, a woman who was carrying a child. But Lizzie was there due to unforeseen circumstances, not because she'd insisted on being there. Lizzie didn't have a selfish bone in her incredible body. She'd disregarded his shortcomings, never looked upon him with judgment. She believed in him. She deserved to be safe, and he intended to keep her that way if at all possible.

The thought of failing her ate at him like salt on ice. He had to believe that fate wouldn't be so cruel as to let that failure visit him again.

J
ack sat across from Lizzie at the dining-room table where they had recently finished a cold canned-meat dinner. Green-gray ominous-looking clouds had gobbled up the sun an hour before and the faint rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance. Although the sea was currently smooth as glass, Jack realized that it only signified the proverbial calm before the storm.

Lizzie shoved her plate aside and frowned. “I really hate this.”

He sat back in the chair and surveyed Lizzie's face cast in the golden glow of lantern light. He saw only a hint of worry there, but it was enough to fuel his own. “Sorry, Dorothy, but this is the best I can do. That's all the food we have and the batteries are completely drained.”

“It's not the food or the dark. I hate this waiting, the not knowing when the storm is going to get here.” She leaned forward and took on the familiar hopeful expression. “Do you think maybe it's missed us?”

Jack wished it had, and he considered telling her it was possible. He wished he could assure her that their suspect visitors had called for help, but he had grave doubts about that. And even if they had, there were no assurances anyone would begin a search for two people who obviously weren't in immediate distress except for the impending storm, another factor that could hinder a rescue attempt. Besides, he'd given the miscreants the impression that they didn't really care to be rescued. And if Lizzie's balloon had drifted to shore, her friends had probably given up hope that she was still alive.

No, he didn't want to cover that territory tonight, or worry her more. But Lizzie deserved some honesty. At least he could give her that much. “The barometer's been dropping for the past hour, so it's probably only a matter of time before the storm hits.”

“I know all about barometers. A storm is the worst thing that can happen during a balloon flight.” She drummed her fingers on the table and looked around, then her gaze came back to rest on him. “You're really worried, aren't you?”

“I've weathered storms before.” He didn't dare tell her about the one that had gotten the best of him.

“Is there something we should be doing?” she asked.

“I've secured everything down here as best I can. All we can do now is wait and see what happens.” And hope.

She snapped her fingers. “I know one way we could pass the time.”

“Not that again,” he murmured.

She propped her elbows on the table and rested her cheeks on her palms. “Actually, I was wondering if you have a deck of cards.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“We could play a few games of poker to distract us.”

As Jack watched Lizzie slide the gold chain dangling from her neck back and forth, another kind of distraction jumped into his brain and it had nothing to do with a friendly game of cards. “I suppose we could play a few games.” Anything to keep his hands occupied.

She slapped her palms on the table. “Great. What are we going to use for bets?”

He picked up the blue-and-red box of matches. “We could use these.”

“Not very challenging, but I guess that will have to do.” She grinned. “Unless you want to play strip poker.”

That was the last thing he needed to consider at the moment. “I can probably find some spare change.”

She sighed. “Matches are fine. I'll clear the table, you get the cards. We could probably use a couple of flashlights, too.”

Jack could use a whole lot of strength, something
that became more than apparent after he followed Lizzie into the galley kitchen and reached around her to retrieve the cards from a drawer where Lizzie was tossing the paper plates into the trash bin. When she straightened, he brushed against her bottom, inadvertently, he'd like to believe, but he knew better. His personal barometer went on an upward climb. Time suspended in the close confines as he stood behind her, pressed against the curve of her buttocks much closer than he should. If he didn't escape soon, he'd end up forgetting himself and his vow to concentrate on what was most important—safety, not sexual satisfaction.

He took a step back and after they returned to the table, he handed her a flashlight and doled out what few matches were left in the box.

Lizzie shuffled the cards like a Vegas dealer and when she was done, placed the deck on the table. “So what's it going to be?”

A long, hard night, Jack decided. “Your call.”

She raised a thin eyebrow. “Exactly how good are you?”

“At cards?” If she hadn't known the path his thoughts were taking, she certainly did now.

She smiled. “Yeah, at cards.”

He tried to affect nonchalance in light of the pressure building beneath his briefs. “I can hold my own.”

Her laughter filled the cabin, a burst of buoyant exhilaration. “I am not even going to touch that.”

“That's too bad.” Jack mentally chastised himself
for the innuendo, but it had vaulted out of his mouth before he could stop it.

She inclined her head, a hint of wicked mischief reflecting from her blue-green eyes. “Maybe we should play seven-card
stud
in your honor.”

“You have high expectations, Dorothy.”

“I have good instincts, Ahab.”

He leaned forward, his hand resting within touching distance of hers. He really wanted to touch her, badly, and not just her hands. But he knew where it would lead, and why he needed to prevent that from happening. “Maybe we should keep this simple.” Sound advice in all regards.

She laid the flashlight on the table to provide more light. “Okay. Five-card draw. You cut, I'll deal.”

Jack decided he should leave and cut his losses before he did something really stupid, like clear the table and take her right there without consideration of the storm or the circumstances. She was going to have a baby, and he was going to have one helluva time remembering that fact.

Suppressing a groan, he cut the deck in three piles. Lizzie picked up the cards and began to deal, her sandy eyebrows drawn down in concentration. Once she was finished, she nailed him with a seductive look that made his pulse pick up a notch. “Just so you know, I'm not very good. At cards, that is.”

Jack shifted in his seat. “Just follow my lead.”

“Oh, I intend to.”

As suspected, Jack soon discovered that Lizzie was lucky and much more skilled than she'd claimed.
She won four hands to his one and before long, he found himself down to his last bet.

He turned his cards faceup and pushed them toward her. “I fold. Looks like the game's over.”

She stuck out her lip in a pretty pout. “Come on, Jack. The least I can do is give you a chance to win back your losses.”

“I only have one match left.”

“I could loan you a few.” She shuffled the cards again. “But I tell you what. If you lose this time, then I'll find some way to collect.”

He could only imagine what that entailed. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

“Why don't you just take a chance and see?”

He was already taking a huge chance, sitting here with Lizzie Matheson, wanting her more than any woman he could think of in recent history. He was torn between his responsibility to protect her and his desire to make love to her regardless of the dire situation they could soon find themselves in. “That sounds dangerous, Dorothy.”

“I assure you I won't make you do anything you don't want to do.”

Good sense told him to refuse. His libido didn't care to listen. “If you insist.”

“I definitely insist.”

Lizzie dealt him another hand that could only be termed as sorry as mud soap. The best he had was a pair of twos. Lizzie had a royal flush, both in her hand and on her face.

He met her gaze and saw a flicker of something
that looked a lot like I-want-you. “Guess I lose again,” he said.

Slowly she rose and moved around the table to stand before him. “Maybe we both win.”

When she swiveled his chair from beneath the table, Jack thought it best to issue a protest. “Lizzie, I don't think—”

“I only want a kiss as payment, Jack. Now would that be such an awful prospect?”

He didn't find anything awful about it, and that was the problem. “Only a kiss?”

She rested her hands on his shoulders. “Sure. Kissing is very underrated, you know.” She bent and brushed her warm lips across his forehead. “A very nice reward, in my humble opinion.” She placed another kiss on his cheek. “I, for one, enjoy kissing a lot.”

And so did Jack, he realized, when her soft lips pressed against his. She slipped past his resistance with a sweep of her tongue, slipped into his mouth, forcing away any thoughts of protest. While Jack gripped the sides of the chair to keep from pulling her into his lap, Lizzie put everything into the kiss, meeting his tongue in a series of gentle thrusts that reminded him of another kind of thrust. But it only lasted a moment before she backed away and returned to her chair.

Lizzie tugged at her T-shirt and cleared her throat. “Now where were we?”

On a fast track to trouble, Jack thought. “I believe I've repaid you so let's call it even.”

“Not yet,” she said, running her fingertip across
one discarded card, feeding the fire in Jack's gut. “I kind of like this game.”

So did Jack. Too much. “What happens if I lose this time?”

“I don't know. I'll have to think on that one.”

After Lizzie dealt the next hand, Jack ended up with three kings and two aces. Unable to resist Lizzie's lure, he turned his cards facedown and said, “Bad hand again, and I'm out.” Out of his mind. Out of his element considering his voluntary loss of control.

She stood, approached him again and held out her hand to him, palm up. “Give it here.”

Confused, Jack asked, “Give what here?”

“Your shirt.”

“I thought we were going to avoid strip poker.”

“I never said that and you owe me. I'm collecting.”

Jack came to his feet, deciding it was futile to ignore Lizzie with the mouth made for sin and the body to match. He crossed his arms, pulled his shirt over his head and handed it to her. “Happy now?”

She took a long visual excursion over his bare chest then her gaze came to rest on his fly. “Looks like the little captain is very happy.”

“Little?”

She rested a dramatic hand across her chest. “I'm sorry. Poor choice of words. Jackson Junior then. J.J. for short, figuratively speaking. I certainly wouldn't want to insult your manhood.”

His
manhood
was anything but insulted. And leave it to Lizzie to name it. “No offense taken.”

When her hand headed toward his chest, Jack caught her wrist. “Lizzie, if you so much as touch me, I can't be responsible for what I might do.”

“I'm not asking you to be responsible for anything. I'm a big girl. I'm responsible for my own actions. And right now I really want to touch you.”

“I don't think you understand what you're doing to me.”

“Oh, I think I do.” She wrested from his grip without difficulty, probably because he wasn't trying that hard to stop her.

Jack stood stock-still when she breezed her palms across his chest, released a ragged breath when she tested his nipples with fine fingertips, exhaled slowly when she slid her hand down to his stomach clenched tight against the onslaught.

Again he stopped her by clasping her wrists. “We don't need to be doing this.”

The look she gave him was laden with frustration. “Maybe I need it, Jack. Maybe I need to forget about what we might be facing. Have you considered that?”

He had only considered that she was melting his resolve, little by little. He hadn't thought about the fact that she did have needs that he was quite capable of tending, even if he didn't plan to tend his own.

With a forearm he cleared away the table. Matches and flashlights and cards flew in all directions like hailstones battering a sidewalk. When he came to the lantern, he was a little more careful placing it on the deck.

Lizzie's lips parted in surprise when he lifted her
onto the edge of the table and tugged her shirt over her head, tossing it onto the floor atop the debris. He parted her thighs and moved between them, knowing he had totally lost his will. Knowing that in a matter of moments he was going to do what he'd promised himself not to do.

He paused to study her delicate shoulders, the rise and fall of her breasts. He drew a path with one fingertip down the chain and lifted the dual medallions hanging at the end. “Special keepsakes?”

“Good-luck charms.”

He dropped the medallions in favor of tracing the outline of her bra. “Do they bring you luck?”

“That remains to be seen.”

Without any more thought of the consequences, without any more contemplation of the impending storm, Jack trailed kisses down her jaw and lingered at the pulse point below her right ear, then trailed a damp path to the cleft of her breasts.

He wanted more than a look, more than a touch. He wanted to know how she would sound when he tasted her. But first things first.

Reaching behind her, he snapped the bra open, worked his fingertips beneath the straps at her shoulders and slowly pulled it down her arms, hesitating before he removed it completely. “Are you sure this is what you want, Lizzie?”

“Yes, it's what I want.”

Jack didn't see one whit of protest in Lizzie's eyes, only a flicker of desire. Not that Jack expected her to stop him. She had made it quite clear from the beginning that this was what she wanted, although
he didn't understand why. Analyzing her reasons was the last thing he wanted once he pulled the bra completely away and tossed it aside.

He'd seen her naked on more than one occasion but this was the first time he'd taken the opportunity to really look at her even though the limited light cast shadows on the details. Her breasts were high, round and beautiful, accented by pale tawny nipples. He would almost be satisfied just looking at them. Almost.