Marooned with a Millionaire (8 page)

Once she was finished eating, Lizzie took care of her morning routine then left the bathroom to find her stalwart sailor who had a knack for disappearing like a master magician.

When she arrived on deck, a little nip of self-consciousness bit into Lizzie as she shaded her eyes with her hand to search for Jack. What did one say the morning after? Actually, the afternoon after from the looks of the sun midpoint on the horizon. Nice day, Jack. Any sign of a rescue crew, Jack? Any chance I might convince you to go down below for some more slap and tickle?

Before she could come up with a more appropriate greeting, Lizzie pulled up short at the stern to find Jack on his knees at the swim platform, his bronzed skin shining in the sun. All of his skin. He was positioned at an angle profile to her, allowing Lizzie only a partial view of the details—half of his bare chest, one hair-covered thigh that hid attributes she now knew intimately. He had a bar of soap in one
hand and a rag in the other and Lizzie had a case of the chills that paid no mind to the scorching heat.

She recognized that the boat was moving somewhat, a very good thing. She also recognized that she should turn away and give Jack some space, not just stand there like Lizzie the Vacationing Voyeur. But she felt as if her feet were stuck to the deck in wet cement. Her lips parted while she watched the play of his muscles and the drops of moisture as he ran the soapy rag over the back of his neck, down his sculpted chest, down his ridged abdomen to his… What she wouldn't give to be that rag.

He lowered his head, using the sea spray as a makeshift shower to wash his hair and to rinse. He straightened and slicked a hand over his scalp then turned his face toward the sun. After draping the rag on the side of a nearby bucket and tossing the soap in the container, he stood, giving Lizzie a firsthand peek at his first-rate bod. What a view.

But he didn't allow her enough time to enjoy the sight before he tugged on a pair of khaki shorts. He turned and hesitated when their gazes met, a knowing look gleaming in his silver eyes.

She'd definitely been caught, and she honestly didn't care. In fact, she was glad.

Lizzie raised her hand in a flat-palm wave, trying to appear nonchalant when she really wanted to tackle him. “Hi.”

He favored her with a devastating half smile, his hand poised on his fly. “So you're finally awake.”

She walked toward him, her hands clasped behind
her back so she wouldn't grab him without formality. “Yeah.”

He slid his zipper up, slowly. “Are you feeling okay?”

“I feel great.” Wired. Sexually keyed up. “I had some breakfast. I could definitely use a bath.” She could definitely use a kiss, and more.

He pointed to the bucket. “There's some bottled water in there for you to use along with a sponge.”

“What? No loofah?”

“Huh?”

“Never mind. A sponge is great.”

“I brought the water out here to warm it. It's not much but it should be enough for you. You can take it back inside and bathe in there.”

She nodded toward the platform. “I could do what you were doing.”

“Believe me, Lizzie, salt water isn't that great.”

She shrugged. “Okay.” Lizzie reached for the hem of the tee to tug it off.

“Inside, Lizzie,” Jack said in a warning tone. “You'll have more privacy.”

Obviously he was much more courteous than she had been. But frankly, she didn't want to go inside. She didn't want Jack to leave, either. She wanted him to watch. She wanted him to be as affected as she'd been when she'd watched him.

Ignoring his suggestion, she pulled the shirt over her head, leaving her totally naked, and dropped it on the deck. “I've never bathed under the open skies before. It's kind of nice.”

Jack didn't move, didn't speak as she soaped the
sponge and slid it down her body then back up to linger at her breasts. His gaze followed the rivulets of foamy moisture rolling down her belly and below.

He glanced up and she noted the unmistakable heat in his eyes. On a whim, she offered him the sponge. “Would you like to do it?”

He looked away. “Do you really think that's a good idea?”

She sauntered forward until she was standing before him, toe to toe. “I think it's a marvelous idea. I'm sure you'll do a very thorough job.”

“I would think you might have other things on your mind.”

“What other things?”

“Like when we're going to get out of here.”

She lifted his hand and curled his fingers around the sponge. “No use worrying over what we can't control, right?”

He forked his free hand through his hair. “My control will be in jeopardy if I help you out with your bath.”

“I certainly hope so.”

“Lizzie, you're making me crazy.”

She kissed his chin. “Jack, you're making me hot.”

He reluctantly smiled. “No surprise. It's got to be over eighty degrees out here.”

“That's not what I mean and you know it.” She took his hand and guided the sponge to her breasts. “This is what I mean.”

After lingering there for a time, he washed her belly then knelt and washed the inside of her thighs,
her legs, each foot, before working his way back up, avoiding the place that begged for his attention. “How's that?”

“Not quite as thorough as I'd hoped.”

“I really have something I need to do.”

“I bet you do.” She glanced at his fly. “Well, my, my. I believe J.J. is now present and accounted for.”

“What do you expect when he has a beautiful, naked woman standing in front of him.”

Lizzie was totally buoyed by the comment. “Beautiful, huh? Isn't that a stretch?”

He brushed her hair away from her face, looking seriously seductive. “You are beautiful.” He tossed the sponge into the bucket and pulled her against him. “Incredibly beautiful.” He outlined her lips with a fingertip. “Beautiful mouth.” He lowered his hand to her breast and feathered her nipple with his thumb. “Beautiful here.” He cupped the juncture of her thighs. “Definitely beautiful here.”

Slanting his head, he kissed her deeply, touched her ardently until Lizzie feared her shaky limbs would give way. As if he sensed her predicament, he broke the kiss and took her hand, pulling her behind him toward the steps.

Lizzie planted her feet and yanked him around to kiss him again. She leaned back against the bulkhead and he followed, melding his mouth with hers, their tongues tangled in a dance of desperate desire.

She tried to work his fly, her fingers fumbling with the urgency to have him right then, right now. He pushed her hand away and she half expected him to
do the same to her. Instead, he lowered his zipper and with one palm parted her legs, bent his knees and thrust upward, seating himself deep inside her. He kept his arm behind her back as a buffer against the wall. Held her captive with the strength of his body and a spellbinding kiss that didn't last long enough.

“Lizzie,” he whispered. “This isn't right.”

“This is very right,” she said as she slid her hands beneath the back of his shorts to relish the play of his muscled buttocks against her palms as he moved in a steady cadence.

“I don't want to—”

“Hurt me, I know. You're not. You won't.”

At least not physically, Lizzie's final coherent thought as the delicious friction of Jack's body rubbing against hers sent her falling, falling toward a sensual abyss where every nerve ending in her body absorbed the sensations. Jack groaned with the next thrust then went rigid in her arms as his own climax took over.

When his ragged respiration began to settle, he murmured, “This is insane,” as he braced his palms on either side of her head, taking his weight from her, but not his body.

“This is heaven,” Lizzie said.

They stayed that way for a time, a slight breeze filtering over them as several gulls squawked overhead.

“Show's over,” Lizzie called to the noisy birds.

Jack's laughter rumbled low in his chest as he rolled away from her and leaned back against the
wall at her side. “Guess there's something to be said for being marooned.”

She turned to her side and stared at his gorgeous face, his remarkable chest still glistening but this time from perspiration. Crazy as it seemed, she wanted him all over again. “You're so right. Just think, we can do it on a deck all we want without concern over getting caught.” She tipped her face toward the soft blue skies. “Except maybe by a bird or two or ten.”

Taking Lizzie by surprise, Jack tenderly stroked her cheek. She turned her gaze on him to find his expression almost regretful. “You deserve better than a deck, Lizzie. Better than up against a wall.”

“I'm not complaining, Ahab.”

“Neither am I. I'm just worried about—”

“I'm okay and Hank's okay.” She pushed away from the wall. “Right now I need to finish my bath and you need to do whatever it is you need to do.”

She headed back to the makeshift tub and snatched the shirt from the deck. After slipping it on, she picked up the bucket of water and turned to find Jack still reclining against the wall, watching her. He'd adjusted his shorts to the proper position but he still looked no less sexy to Lizzie. He did look very concerned.

She made her way over to him and smiled. “Don't look so serious. Everything's going to be okay. You're going to go about your business and I'm going to bathe by myself in the bathroom in case we're visited by pirates who are looking for booty. Both kinds.”

Jack didn't smile but as she tried to pass by him to return below, he caught her palm and kissed it, halting her progress. “You're a remarkable woman, Lizzie. You deserve the best.” He carried the weight of the world in his silver eyes, causing Lizzie's heart to clutch in her chest. If only she knew how to reach him, how to help him.

She stroked his shadowed jaw. “You deserve the best, too, Jack. You deserve some peace. I sincerely hope you find someone who'll give you that one day.”

Even if I can't, Lizzie thought as she headed away. When she returned to the bathroom, she set down the bucket and sat on the edge of the tub. The bravado she'd been determined to show in Jack's presence dissolved and she gave in to unexpected tears.

Lizzie Matheson had only cried twice in her recent past—the day her father had died and the morning three days ago when she'd learned she was carrying a child. Lizzie had never cried over a man before, but then she'd never met anyone like Jackson Dunlap. She suspected these wouldn't be the last tears she shed over him. And for him.

P
eace.

Jack had considered that he'd finally found some with Lizzie, if only temporarily. But when she wasn't around, the tranquility lifted and the guilt came calling again. He'd piled on some more remorse when he'd seen that look in her eyes, the one that told him she believed in him, that he really mattered. In reality, Lizzie mattered to Jack, too. A lot more than she should.

The ocean spread out before him, the weather much kinder this evening in some ways. Yet the sea seemed determined to keep them in suspended animation. He steered the boat in the direction of the shore, hoping the wind might pick up and drive them forward. The jib caught some of the breeze, but not enough to make much progress. They were running
out of water, running out of food. Running out of time.

He wondered if Lizzie's friends had given up on her, if anyone even cared that he hadn't shown up at the resort to restock or gather his messages. Of course, he'd made it quite clear that he didn't want to be bothered, possibly to his own detriment. And Lizzie's. All he could do was hope that someone would come upon them soon.

The setting sun provided a kaleidoscope of color—varying shades of oranges and blues—and he considered calling Lizzie on deck to share the scene. But she'd been uncharacteristically quiet after dinner and he worried she was overly tired. He'd insisted she go to bed and promised he would join her later—a promise he wasn't sure he should keep. She was temptation encased in an irresistible body and if she got it in her head to test him again, he wouldn't be strong enough to resist her.

Jack continued to stand behind the wheel and absorb the sounds and smells—gulls flying overhead, the tangy scent of the sea, the waves lapping against the hull. For the first time in his life, he almost resented the atmosphere. Then another sound caught his attention. A boat motoring in the distance.

He squinted his eyes against the last light and saw the craft coming toward him. Unless he was totally off base, it looked like the same boat they'd encountered a day ago, piloted by the so-called fishermen, which could mean help had arrived—or they were in dire straits.

As the boat came closer, Jack verified it was the
suspicious pair. He gripped the wheel, mentally plotting what he would do if they had returned to search for valuables—and trouble. He had no ammunition but he did have the gun. They wouldn't know for certain it wasn't loaded. Unfortunately, the gun was locked away in the safe in the stateroom. He didn't trust leaving topsides and allowing them an opportunity to have the upper hand. And should they follow him, they would have access to Lizzie.

Lizzie was his main concern at the moment. He had to protect her, no matter what it took.

When they pulled alongside, Jack left the helm to confront the seedy strangers. The skinny one lifted a beer and said, “Guess you survived the storm.”

Jack noticed all too late that the big one had moored the craft to the sailboat. He took on a casual stance that belied his concern. “We managed fine. I'm about to head back.”

“I don't hear no motor,” the big one said, followed by a grating laugh. “Do you hear a motor, Harry?”

“Nope, Buck, I don't hear no motor. I don't think this boat's going anywhere, at last not very fast.”

Jack straightened, every nerve of his body sensing danger. “No fish today, gentlemen?”

Emaciated Harry rubbed his scratchy jaw. “We're not fishing today. Not that kind of fishing anyway. Where's your wife?”

“She's gone,” Jack lied. “Went back to shore with another boat. Coast Guard should be by any time now.”

“Did you see any Coast Guard on the way out, Buck?”

“Nope, Harry. I figure the Coast Guard has more important things to do than worry about stranded honeymooners.”

Jack's mind whirled when he saw Buck reach into his pocket. “What do you two want?”

As suspected, Buck pulled out a revolver, dwarfed in his beefy palm. “We want to see what you got hiding on that boat there.”

Jack gritted his teeth and spoke through them. “I don't have a damn thing you'd want.”

“You're wrong about that.” Buck climbed aboard and Jack started forward until he heard the cock of the gun. “Don't move, Cap'n. Now just ease on back and let us take a look around.”

Jack stood helplessly by while the other reprobate joined them on deck. He couldn't protect Lizzie if they shot him. Maybe they'd just take what they wanted and get the hell out of there.

He considered trying to negotiate, something he was damn good at when it came to business. But he doubted he could reason with two smugglers who had the combined intelligence of a grouper.

Buck handed the gun to Harry, a good thing, Jack decided, since Harry was half his size. If presented the opportunity, Jack could overpower him. But not yet. Not until the time was right.

“Well, looky here,” Buck said, kneeling beside the railing. He came up clutching something in his hand and when he dangled it before them, Jack re
alized it was Lizzie's good-luck charms. He hoped like hell they worked now.

Harry aimed the gun at Jack's chest. “Any other treasure out here?”

“No.”

“Take a look around, Buck,” Harry said. “I'll take the captain here down below and see what else we can find. Pick up anything that's not tied down.”

“Sure thing, Harry.”

“Turn around, Capt'n, and walk,” Harry said.

Jack complied and felt the barrel of the gun at his back. He started down the steps slowly, praying Lizzie was still tucked away in bed.

“You gotta safe on board?” Harry asked as they descended the steps.

Jack thought about lying then considered that if he handed over the cash, the guy might be satisfied. But the safe was sequestered in the floor of the stateroom closet, the same room containing Lizzie. Could he take that chance? Maybe if he spoke loud enough, warned her in advance, she could find a place to hide and hopefully not in the closet. He had to believe she would understand what was taking place.

The main salon was practically dark due to the hour, something that could work to his and Lizzie's advantage.

“Right this way, Harry,” Jack said in an overly loud, sarcastic voice. “It's in the stateroom. Will hundreds be okay or do you prefer smaller bills?”

“Money's money.”

“Have you guys ever thought about an honest job?
I hear they could use someone to clean the heads back in Key Largo.”

The gun bit into Jack's back. “No time to be funny, Capt'n. I've killed people for a lot less.”

That provided little comfort for Jack as he opened the stateroom door. Like the salon, the room was dimly lit. Jack immediately homed in on the bed, thankful to find it deserted.

Good girl, Lizzie.

Turning to his right, Jack blindly worked his way to the closet and pulled open the doors. “I can't see anything, Harry. The battery's down so I don't have any lights.”

“No problem.”

Jack heard the snap of a flashlight and the beam angled onto the floor, revealing the safe. Maybe Buck and Harry weren't so stupid after all.

Jack knelt and worked the combination, opened the door, pulled out the only two bundles of cash and handed it over his shoulder.

“Give me that gun,” Harry demanded. “And no funny stuff. I'll shoot you right here.”

Jack handed the weapon over to Harry then straightened and faced him. The guy looked more menacing in the scarce light with his fried hair sticking out of the dirty white cap, his lips curled into a smile that displayed a definite lack of dental hygiene. Jack would be more than happy to remove the rest of his teeth. But first, he had to get out of the cabin.

“I have a few other trinkets that might interest you in the salon,” Jack said.

“Lead the way, Capt'n.”

Jack exited the stateroom expecting to find Buck waiting for them but the cabin was deserted. He hoped Lizzie stayed back, stayed hidden and didn't do something totally inadvisable like try to conduct her own rescue.

“I've got some silver in the galley,” Jack said.

When they passed by the companionway, a loud noise from above shook the walls. No telling what Buck was up to. Jack hoped he'd slipped and landed flat on his back.

Harry leaned over and yelled up the steps, “What are you doing, you fool?”

The pressure of the gun released from Jack's back and he saw his chance. He whirled around and knocked it from Harry's grasp then took him down onto the ground. They rolled into the middle of the salon and Jack managed to have Harry pinned in a matter of moments.

He rammed his forearm against Harry's throat. “Not so tough without the weapon, are you, my friend.”

“Buck's gonna kill you with his bare hands,” Harry choked out.

Not if Jack could find the gun. He kept his knee planted in Harry's concave chest and groped for the weapon. The flashlight had rolled away and lodged at the corner of the sofa. Footsteps on the stairs increased his urgency. When Harry tried to move, Jack wrapped his hands around his neck.

Where was the damn gun?

“Looking for this?”

Jack glanced up to see Buck's hulking figure at
the bottom of the companionway, the gun trained on Jack's head.

“Let him up,” Buck hissed. “Then lie facedown.”

Bile rose in Jack's throat when he realized he was outnumbered. He wouldn't be able to protect Lizzie because in a few minutes, most likely he would be dead.

He wasn't afraid of dying; he never had been. But he was afraid for Lizzie. Again he would fail another woman, only this one meant more to him than he could express.

Buck moved closer, hovering above them. “I said turn him loose.”

Jack was tempted to crush Harry's larynx and he could with the fury he felt. Before he could answer Buck's command, a sickening crack echoed in the room and Buck slumped to the ground in a huge heap.

“Take that, you ugly blowfish.”

Jack's brain took a moment to register the sight of Lizzie standing over Buck, the doorstop trophy clutched in her grip. She crouched and set it down then picked up the gun in trembling fingers, aiming it at Buck who remained motionless.

Jack held out his open palm. “Give it here.”

Lizzie handed off the gun to Jack and snatched the flashlight, shining the beam on Buck. “Oh, God. Did I kill him?”

Jack straightened and pointed the revolver at Harry. Harry moaned and so did Buck. “He's not dead but I'll wager he'll have one hell of a headache
in the morning.” He centered his gaze on Harry. “If I decide to let him and his buddy live.”

Harry lifted his arms above his head and whined, “Don't shoot me, man. It was all Buck's idea.”

Jack glanced at Lizzie. “What do you think, Dorothy? Should I let them live?”

Lizzie's smile illuminated the room. “You could shoot them in a place that would make them sing falsetto, although it's probably a small target.”

Harry's hands went to his crotch and Lizzie and Jack shared in a laugh.

“Guess we should find something to tie them up,” Lizzie said then walked to the windows and pulled the tiebacks from the curtains. “This will do for now.”

“Good thinking, Dorothy.” Jack's tone was laced with humor but his heart was full of relief. Lizzie was damned smart. Most important, Lizzie was safe.

 

Lizzie sat on the sofa in the main salon lit by the lone lantern. She couldn't seem to rid herself of chills even though she was covered in all her clothes and a blanket. Jack was on deck talking to the Coast Guard who had shown up an hour before, after he'd called for help from the dirty duo's boat. They'd carted the pair away and now Lizzie awaited Jack's return and information on what would happen next.

The ordeal was over. That should have pleased Lizzie and it did in a way. She would be back on land soon. She and Hank were okay. She could call and let everyone know she had survived. But it also meant her time with Jack was coming to an end.

She heard someone descending the steps and her heart took flight when Jack appeared. He joined her on the couch and wrapped one arm around her shoulders.

“You took a big chance tonight, Lizzie.”

She shrugged. “I didn't have a choice. I refused to let those idiots have their way.”

Jack shifted to face her and took her hands. “I don't understand how you got past us and into the head.”

She sent him a sheepish smile. “Actually, I was in the head, shaving my legs.”

He tried to look stern but amusement glinted in his eyes. “With my razor?”

“Sorry. I forgot to pack my toiletries for the trip.”

“I suppose I can forgive you this time since you basically saved our lives.”

But can you forgive yourself? The thought bolted into Lizzie's brain and she almost voiced it. Almost. “Anyway, I was heading out when I heard you talking to dear Harry. I decided to stay put for a while to figure out what to do. Then I remembered the trophy. It came in handy but it's a lot heavier than I'd realized.”

He kissed her forehead. “And you are a lot more resourceful than I'd realized.”

She saluted. “All in a day's work, Captain.”

The roar of an engine filtered down from above. Lizzie couldn't count how many times she'd prayed to hear that welcome sound over the past few days. Now it only made her sad.

“I believe our ride's waiting,” Jack said, his gaze fastened on hers.

“Guess this is it,” Lizzie answered, trying to keep the gloom from her voice. “The end of the yellow brick road, so to speak.”

“Actually, I've arranged for someone to tow the boat and for us to spend the night in Key Largo. I'll have someone take you back to Miami tomorrow.”

Tomorrow. Lizzie wasn't looking forward to what tomorrow would bring—the end of her time with Jack. But they still had tonight. “Where exactly are you taking me?”