Where Dreams Are Born (Angelo's Hearth) (29 page)

“Don’t you think I’m old enough to know my own mind?”

“You’re old enough to—”

“Careful there, big boy.”

He bit his tongue and looked away from that maddening smile. The lighthouse was perched a few hundred yards away
, on the northernmost San Juan Island. Next stop Canada. They were out at the limits.

“Old enough to… make me completely insane.”

“Nice save.”

“Weak, but best I’ve got on a moment’s notice. Did you really like the roses?”

“It’ll do. And I loved the flowers. How did you know where to send them? And two weeks of poetry and stories and sea chanties. Gads.” She rested her hand on her heart. He had touched her, rather than scaring her off. Duh, she was here, wasn’t she?

He
needed to get some distance or he wouldn’t be able to control himself. He let her go and moved to the dinghy and began to untie it from the cleats.

“I
Googled you and your class popped up. I called the dean to find out when your last class was.”

“You called the dean?” Cassidy undid the other ends of the lines. She started to untie the rope on the bow of the dinghy until he stopped her.

“We’ll need that. Couldn’t reach him, so I talked to some chef, Clara somebody.” Together they lifted the little boat over the lifelines and dropped it bottom down into the water. He should have cleaned it. There were a thousand paint splotches. Globs of epoxy that probably wouldn’t let go without taking some of the boat with them.

“You talked to Master Chef Clara Nichols? I barely got to talk to her.”

“Nice lady. She helped me find a good florist, too. They want to talk to you about a Christmas class down at the California center as well.”

She stood with her fists on her hips. Her eyes snapped with a fire that came out of nowhere. He was either going to throw her overboard or drag her down to his bunk below. Instead he pulled the oars out of their cradle and tossed them into the dinghy as well.

Then he turned to face her and matched her stance, fists on hips.

Finally she blew at her bangs.

He blew at his even though he didn’t have any.

“What am I supposed to do with you?”

“Either climb into my bed or my boat.”

She didn’t laugh in his face, she didn’t get angry and slap him either. Both
were good signs.

Instead, that smile opened up its thousand-watt brilliance on him and he had to restrain himself to not lean across and taste it.

“There’s no bed here.” She look up and down the rocky beach. “I’ll take the boat.”

They both knew there was one down below, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Instead, he nodded and untied the painter, using it to lead the dinghy back toward the break in the lifelines.

“Yes, I’ll take the boat,” her voice behind him little louder than the lapping of the water on the hull. “For now.”

The painter slipped from his fingers and he almost lost the whole mess into the sea.

# # #

Cassidy had a terrible time hiding her smile as she lay back in the stern of the tiny rowboat. Russell pulled stoutly on the oars, making the dinghy nearly launch with each stroke. His eagerness to return to the sailboat was showing. She did her best to look Victorian and swooning as the pirate dragged her to his lair.

He showed the effects of their afternoon. His shirt had grass stains. A couple of leaves and a bit of branch perched in his hair, right where she’d tucked them in while he kissed her. He still hadn’t noticed. And now she knew how wonderfully soft his hair truly was.

They had run about the island like a couple of teenagers. Grabbing a kiss at the very westernmost tip of the island. Slapping her hand against those tight jeans of his and discovering a few things about that butt of his. One, his body was just a firm as it looked. Two, it was good that she was fleet of foot, because he was a very fast runner when motivated.

The dinghy thudded into the side of his boat so hard she almost flew forward into his arms. In seconds the boat was tied off and the oars tossed aboard.

He climbed up first and offered her a hand. She stepped straight into his arms and probably bruised her lips they came together so hard. They both leaned into it, tasting, touching, reveling. He dragged her blouse open to attack her throat, her neck, the top of her breasts. Everywhere he went was a new adventure.

He definitely wasn’t a useless man who didn’t know what he wanted. He clearly wasn’t thinking about the latest stock deal or sporting event. Russell was completely here with her, wholly present in her arms, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to let go.

He moved down to his knees to nuzzle her exposed belly.

Clawing at his shirt, she dragged it over his head. Ran her hands down that broad, strong back. He smelled of sea salt and man. There was no other word for it.

She pulled at his arms until he rose back to his feet so they could once again feast on each other’s mouths. He suddenly bent down and put his shoulder into her waist, lifted her from her feet as if she weighed little more than his cat. She pounded his back, hard enough to make him grunt, not hard enough to make him put her down.

Her ears were buzzing loudly as he turned for the cabin.

No, it wasn’t her ears. It was a speedboat filled with teenagers, buzzing by less than a dozen feet away. A moment later their wake caught the sailboat.

The deck tilted.

She grabbed for what she could and latched onto the back of his belt and the waistband of his jeans.

He staggered one way. Staggered back.

And then she was flying free. Soaring through the air in a moment of weightlessness.

Then hit the ocean with a splash.

The water was freezing. She kicked for the surface and gasped for air. The water was so cold it was hard to think.

More water sprayed in her face.

“Goddamn it, Morgan!”

He’d surfaced next to her. “This water is bloody cold.”

“No shit!” She palmed a big spray of seawater into his face. While he spluttered, she looked up at the sailboat. Even in the few moments they’d been in the water, they’d drifted away from it. They both swam, but didn’t make any headway at first. She dug in deeper, kicked harder, it was slow work against the current. She was getting colder and weaker with each passing moment.

They finally reached the boat and she grabbed onto the stern of the dinghy but couldn’t pull herself up. And the deck of the boat was far out of reach. What had been an easy step up from the dinghy was now a vast wall of wood. She lunged, but couldn’t get close to the edge of the deck. And the cold was making her joints ache.

Russell dove.

“Don’t you leave me!” she shouted down at the water.

Then he shot out of the water, half his body shooting into the air. A thousand drops of water sparkled all over him like a merman emerging from the deep. One hand caught the edge of the deck. Biceps flexed, shoulders rippled. In moments he was aboard.

A hand reached down from above. She grabbed it.

He heaved, practically pulled her arm aboard without her attached.

Moments later she was sitting in the cockpit, the remains of her blouse wrapped around her as the shivers began to set in. No sign of the kids in the speed boat.

“Come on. We have to get out of these clothes.”

She shuddered. “That was the original idea. Now I’m n-n-not so motivated. How can water be so cold?” Her hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

He pulled her to her feet and guided her below. The ladder was a major challenge.

“Puget Sound has a huge tide. Fresh sea water from Alaska pumps in here every day. Good thing it’s summer, you have a life expectancy of about twelve minutes in this water. In the winter, it’s more like four before hypothermia sets in.”

“Great!” The cool shade inside the boat only chilled her more deeply.

“Can we sue them or something?”

“
They’re long gone. The little shits.”

He peeled off her blouse and bra. She’d never felt so unromantic before in her life. Going to the doctor was more exciting than this. She tried to undo her pants, but couldn’t control her fingers. He undid them and shucked them off her legs.

“You are one big goosebump.”

“That’s because I’m freezing to death, you big hunk of meat. I don’t have all the insulation you do.”

He grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around her. He held her close and scrubbed his hands up and down her back to warm her up. His chest was cold and wet, but she leaned into it. She didn’t want to admit to being scared, but watching the boat drift away in that moment before they’d started swimming had been terrifying. Her life had suddenly gone out of control as she was ripped from everything safe.

He smelled so good. She hid her face against his chest and reveled in the warmth of his scrubbing hands. Her very joints hurt with the cold. Moments ago she’d wanted to throw herself against his body, now she wanted to hide against it.

Another shiver shook her so hard she couldn’t even hold onto the blanket which slipped off her shoulders.

“You really took a chill. Come on.” He dragged her forward.

She managed to step around the missing floorboard despite the silly putty that had replaced her knees. Moments later he had her tucked into the bed. She pulled the covers over her head and gave in to the shakes.

Moments later he slid in beside her and wrapped his arms around her.

It was the safest place she’d ever been.

If only it wasn’t so damn cold.

# # #

She didn’t remember when the shivers stopped. She didn’t remember falling asleep. She didn’t remember it getting dark.

There was a loud purring in her ear.

Cassidy rolled toward it and was rewarded with a faceful of fur. Nutcase’s purr rose to an active buzz.

Then she became aware of two things simultaneously.

First, she wasn’t the only human in this bed.

Second, she had no clothes on.

She lifted the cover and started to slip out of the bunk. A strong arm came from behind, looped around her waist and pulled her back. In moments she was spooned back against Russell’s chest, his arm a powerful rope around her waist.

Third, she discovered, he wore no clothes either. But she didn’t feel trapped.

“Feeling better?” His voice was thick with sleep.

She nodded. Was this what she really wanted? If she didn’t, she’d better move soon. Her body chose for her as she shifted closer against the heat of him. She’d never take being warm for granted again.

His arm slid farther around until it encircled her waist and tucked under her rib cage. Then she felt the growing pressure against her behind. Russell loosened his grip and shifted away.

He really was a gentleman. Well, mostly.

“You had to take off all of your clothes, too?” She wrapped her arm over his and pulled it back around her waist to let him know she was teasing.

“They were wet. It seemed like a good idea at the time.” The last was said so close to her ear that his breath tickled.

Again he offered to back off. She wondered what it cost him to lean back so a tiny gap of warm air filled the space where his chest had been.

She rolled in his embrace and pushed on his shoulder until he lay on his back and she straddled him.

“Watch the overhead.”

Raising her head slowly, she just brushed the underside of the decking. The boat was rocking gently. Rhythm of the sea. So natural her body followed it as easily as a leaf finding the breeze.

Russell’s hands, those big rough hands she’d noticed so often, wrapped around her waist
practically encircling her.

They slid upward, traced the line of her ribcage. Rather than latching onto the her breasts in a typical he-man crush, his callused thumbs traced the side of her breasts with the softest of touches. He supported her as she leaned down for a kiss.

His mouth, so eager and forceful before, was a soft welcome. He ran one hand into her hair and the other over her behind.

She rubbed up the length of him and he groaned into her mouth. Lip to lip. Chest to chest. Every curve of him felt wonderful. And his shoulders. She slid her arms beneath them and grasped them from behind. Shoulders big enough to carry the world. Traveling in the upper tiers of the wine and restaurant circles she’d met her share of rich heirs. Russell played none of their games. No ego about the wealth he had.

One thing was sure, he had a body that had been custom made for her. She worked her way down, planting kisses on his throat and chest.

His hands played with her hair.

His groan returned with a gasp as she slid him between her breasts. A little farther and she was able to take him in her mouth. One long stroke with her tongue. He arched with his need. When she returned him to her cleavage, he grabbed at her shoulders and dragged her upward.

When they were once again even, she whispered in his ear, “Do you have…?” Christ she was being forward, wasn’t she.