Stranded With The Captain. Sharon HartleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
of anything better. Just keep drinking, Cat.
Javi murmured agreement and settled into the seat against her. “I’m surprised there isn’t at least one other boat here.”
“Isn’t it off season?”
“True, but there’s a legend pirates buried treasure in this cove.”
She glanced toward land and took another swallow. “Is there any truth to that story?”
Javi shrugged. “I doubt it, but a lot of cruisers like to anchor here so they can search.”
“Don’t tell Debbie. She’ll want to buy a shovel.”
“You’re very different from your friend Debbie.”
“She’s been through a lot lately,” Cat said.
“How long have you known her?”
“We met as freshman at the University of Florida.”
“And now she’s been through a divorce.” Javi nodded. “That changes a person.”
Cat took another swallow of champagne for courage. “Is that comment from firsthand experience?”
“I’ve never been married, if that’s what you’re asking. How about you?”
* * *
WAITING FOR IRISH to answer, Javi knew he was treading in dangerous waters. What am I doing? He shouldn’t be waiting for the sunset alone in the cockpit with a gorgeous charterer, sipping champagne and asking about her marital status. He should go below and sleep.
“Nope,” she said, confirming his assumption. “Never married.”
“Boyfriend back in Miami?”
“No. My orchid nursery keeps me too busy.”
“You raise orchids for a living?”
“A family business, started by my parents. I can tell that surprises you.”
“It’s an unusual profession.” Javi poured more champagne into her flute. “I figured you for a flight attendant.”
“Flight attendant?” She flushed again, and he was charmed. “Why?”
“Beautiful woman.” He raised his wine to her. “Beautiful smile.”
“Thank you,” she said, staring at her feet.
“Do I make you nervous, Irish?” Javi asked, making his voice soft.
She glanced up to meet his gaze, started to say something, but shrugged. “Definitely.”
Smiling at her honesty, he asked, “Why?”
She raised her glass in a toast similar to his. “Beautiful man. Dangerous smile.”
He laughed. “Dangerous?”
“You remind me of a pirate.”
“Do I, now?”
“Maybe it’s the earring,” she said.
He fingered his earlobe. “I had it pierced in Bali when I was eight.”
“Did you sail there?”
He nodded. “With my parents. You don’t like piercings?”
“I didn’t say that,” she said.
“Good.”
He ran a knuckle down her cheek, and her eyes widened. Her skin was as soft as it appeared.
“Or maybe it’s your beard,” she murmured, not objecting to his touch.
“My beard?”
“That makes me think of you as a pirate.”
“But pirates are marauding criminals,” he said, continuing to stroke her cheek, fascinated by the stark desire in her glittering gaze. He’d known from their first meeting that she was attracted to him. She’d tried to hide it, but he could tell.
Champagne and fatigue made it easy to ignore the voice in his brain that cautioned him to back off. But even a saint would find it hard to resist a woman as sexy as Irish.
“I can easily see you doing some marauding,” she said.
“No way,” he said. “Believe me, I’m a law-abiding man.”
Leaning closer, his gaze tracked to her lips. She’d welcome a kiss, and he wanted to know how that gorgeous mouth would taste. Getting Irish into his bunk would be easy, although a disastrous move. The image of this siren naked and willing beneath him threatened his fragile grip on common sense. Talk about too much damned bubbly.
“So you’re a man who always sticks to the rules,” she whispered, her breath soft and warm on his chin.
Not always. He captured her mouth with his, and she made a surprised noise in the back of her throat. Her lips tasted of the excellent champagne he’d been saving for a special occasion, which he’d assumed would be when he returned to duty.
She returned his kiss, shifting closer. Encouraged, he deepened their connection. She placed her hand on his shoulder, severing his last shred of control.
He pulled back and smiled into her dazed expression.
“Let’s go below,” he said, cupping her face with his palm.
“Okay,” she murmured, her voice a sweet sigh.
He rose and took her hand. Her fingers closed around his, and she came to her feet. Back off, Javi. Back off before it’s too late.
Halfway down the stairs, another noise drowned out the warning bell clanging inside his head.
Someone in the head losing their lunch.
CAT STARED AT Javi’s tanned, muscled shoulders as she followed him down the steps into Spree’s cabin. Is this really me? Or is this an out-of-body experience because of booze and lack of sleep?
She didn’t care. For the first time in her life, she was acting on pure impulse.
What was it about the captain that made her so reckless? When he’d dripped water into the cockpit after his swim, she’d had the insane desire to lick the liquid off his chest. Right now she wanted him to lay her down on the nearest surface and take her. She closed her eyes, imagining how he would feel inside her.
Was she really going to do this?
He’d have to put on the brakes because all she could think about was stripping off his damp shorts and touching what was inside.
Were they headed to his bunk or hers?
When Javi’s grip tightened on her fingers, she looked over his shoulder. The sight of a disheveled Debbie wearing an oversize T-shirt standing outside the bathroom roused Cat from her sensual daze.
The sound of someone being sick on the other side of the closed door jerked her back into the present.
She’d been so swept away by her lust for the captain she’d utterly forgotten about her friends.
Her sick friends.
Worse, now she was angry at them for spoiling her first—and probably last—chance to do something deliciously wild. To have an adventure.
All kinds of regret replaced annoyance when Javi dropped her hand.
“Debbie,” Cat said, stepping in front of the captain, her champagne buzz all but fizzled out. “What’s going on?”
Debbie glared at her accusingly, then shifted her gaze to Javi.
Cat sighed. Were they that obvious? Did Deb sense something