One last adventure before the season ended. One more chance to sleep on the open ocean. One first kiss before frost.
Yeah…that kiss. Man, that kiss. It had taken him for a spin, for sure. He hadn’t meant it to be that kind of kiss, at least not at first. A quick “thank you” peck on the cheek, maybe. Or a gesture of appreciation.
But maybe that was an excuse and he’d simply given in to his curiosity about what it would feel like to hold Lulu close. He’d imagined it like capturing a butterfly, feeling its wings bat against his hands, then releasing it. He’d wanted to be close to her bright spirit, to show her that she didn’t have to hide anything from him.
But quickly it had moved into different territory. Hot and wild territory, where the two of them struck brilliant sparks of fire with every touch.
He gazed up at the stars, which appeared only in snatches between long clouds drifting overhead. His scar throbbed, the way it did sometimes. He’d asked Dr. Finnegan about that, and he’d said it meant nothing. Either it was all in his head, or it was lingering physical memory left from the surgery.
Which was probably another way of saying it was all in his head.
He couldn’t get involved with a runaway tap dancer with a kidnapped kid in tow. Was he out of his mind? He had nothing to offer them other than a bunk on his boat and some salmon. A night’s protection, that was all. Or two nights, if he hadn’t heard from Maya by tomorrow. Three nights, if that was what it took.
After that, he was done. They deserved more. Like the FBI, for example.
As for this attraction for the long-legged, funny, surprising woman who’d leaped into his life and high-kicked him in the gut? He’d just have to shove that aside. Maybe after this was over, he’d take a trip to Anchorage and see Shawna, with whom he had an extremely mutually satisfactory no-strings relationship.
Top priority: get Lulu out of his system.
He tuned into the sounds surrounding the boat. The gentle lap of ripples against the hull. The sigh of wind in the treetops. The occasional chirp of a protective squirrel. The very low murmur of voices in the cabin, as Lulu and Raul got settled into their bunks.
Yeah, he’d protect them with everything he had—for now. Until someone better showed up. Then he’d say goodbye.
He drifted off, lulled by the knowledge that all the sounds were made by something that belonged here. The early warning radar system in his head would wake him if anything else showed up.
But it failed him. Sort of.
In the middle of the night, he felt a warm breath on his cheek and came awake instantly and fully.
“What’s wrong?”
Lulu was there, shivering in the frosty air, crouching next to him. “Nothing. I’m here to relieve you. You’re keeping watch, aren’t you?”
“I’m sleeping.”
“With one ear open. You can’t get good sleep like that. Go ahead. I’ll stay on deck. You go get some real sleep.”
The wind played with her hair. She wore one of his watch caps, her hair tousled under the doubled-up hem. She was adorable, and worried about him, and he wanted her.
He unzipped his sleeping bag and opened it up. “I have a better idea. Crawl in here with me and we’ll both keep watch.”
Her eyebrows drew together. “Is there room?”
“More or less. I like a roomy sleeping bag. I don’t like feeling trapped inside. I always make sure there’s extra space for me to thrash around.” He moved his legs to demonstrate, then reached for her hand. “Come on. You look cold out there. It’s like Florida in here.”
“I worked on a cruise ship out of Florida once. I danced the can-can dressed like a banana.”
“There you go. Just…no high-kicks, if you don’t mind.”
She giggled lightly, then nodded. “Okay. Raul’s conked out, but…”
“I get it. No screaming orgasms.”
She gave a pout of exaggerated disappointment. “I will definitely be mentioning that in my Yelp review.”
He smiled as she crawled into the sleeping bag next to him, sighing as the heat enveloped her. Gently, he settled her head into the nook between his shoulder and his biceps.
“I feel like I’m in a cradle,” she murmured. “The way your boat is rocking, and how warm it is in here. Being held like this.”
He gritted his back teeth together, jaw muscles flexing. He wasn’t feeling the cradle vibes at all. But if that was how she wanted it, he’d keep his swelling erection to himself.
“Hey, Lulu…” he whispered.
“Hm?” She already sounded half asleep.
“What is your real name? What’s Lulu a nickname for?”
A soft snore was his only answer.
So much for catching her off guard. He tucked her head under his chin and gazed across the deck of his boat at the soaring black trees. Drifting to sleep along with her, he wondered if those trees recognized the Desperado, if they were aware of the occasional comings and goings of humans. So much of the world was a mystery. Why had he nearly lost his crew in that midnight disaster? Why hadn’t he seen how unhappy Julie was?
Who was this woman slumbering in his arms?
Sure, there was a lot he still didn’t know about Lulu.
But he knew enough to want her with deep and persistent urgency.
Eighteen
Lulu surfaced slowly from a dream about salmon doing the can-can. A sound was dragging her awake—a disturbed human sound. She jerked into consciousness and blinked in the dim gray pre-dawn light.
The puzzle pieces of memory fell into place. She was on the deck of the Desperado, tucked into a sleeping bag with Tristan Del Rey, and he was moaning in distress. Still asleep, she saw when she lifted herself onto one elbow. He must be having a nightmare.
After wrestling her heart rate back to semi-normal—hey, at least the sound wasn’t from someone boarding the boat, or from Raul—she shook him lightly.
“Tristan,” she hissed. “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”
His head thrashed back and forth. “No. Not him. Damn it,” he muttered.
“Tristan,” she said more loudly. Then, “Captain!”
Apparently that really was the best name for him. His eyes flew open, although at first she thought he was still seeing images from his dream. He stared at her blankly. “Lulu?”
“You were dreaming. It looked like a rough one. Are you okay?”
She put her hand on his heart. The rapid pounding felt like a jackhammer against her hand. He wore only a thin t-shirt, a fact she’d taken note of last night when she snuggled next to him. Now it clung to his muscles, damp with sweat.
“Yeah. Sorry.” He started to sit up, then saw the sun hadn’t risen yet, and sank back down. “Frost.”
“What?”
“It froze last night. I can see frost on the rails. Are you warm enough?”
The blank expression in his sea-gray eyes tugged at her heart. “Yes. Don’t worry about me. What were you dreaming about?”
“Nothing important.”
“Really? Then why is your heart racing and your t-shirt all sweaty?” She plucked at his shirt.
“Maybe it’s because I’m in bed with a beautiful woman.”