Marooned with a Millionaire Read online

No point arguing with her, Jack decided. “Fine. The scissors are in the galley, third drawer to the left of the sink.”

  “I’ll go get them and you take a seat at the table.” She tossed him the towel. “Slip off your shirt and wrap this around your shoulders.”

  He saluted. “Anything else, Major?”

  She laughed. “You’re the second person who’s called me Major, but I believe the last time it was followed by ‘pain in the butt.’”

  He rose from the sofa and slipped his shirt over his head then tossed it aside. “Are you always so high maintenance, Dorothy?”

  “Not really, Ahab. I’m just the kind of person who knows what she wants and then does her darnedest to get it.”

  Not so unlike him, Jack thought. He’d spent his life being that driven.

  Right now Lizzie looked as though she wanted something from him, something sweet and seductive, apparent by the way her gaze slid over his bare chest.

  Her eyes widened and so did her smile. “You’re in really great shape. Do you work out often?”

  He had one particular workout in mind, but it didn’t involve weights. “Only in the sense of maintaining the boat.”

  She moved closer. “I guess you just come by it naturally, then.”

  In order to get his thoughts back on course and his body back under control, Jack said, “Speaking of working, I’m going to try and get the engine to turn over. The alternator charges the batteries so we’ll have some lights.”

  Following a sexy shake of her hair, she sauntered toward the adjacent galley. “I really don’t mind the darkness, as long as you’re here.”

  Jack wasn’t totally in the dark about what she intended to do with him, to him. She’d been doing it since her arrival. Question was, would he have the strength to deny her?

  A day ago, he might have said yes. But today, he wasn’t at all sure about anything, except for the fact that Lizzie Matheson was totally disrupting his life. And he was beginning to like it.

  Four

  The man had a fine head of hair to match his equally fine bod, Lizzie thought while she started to work on Jack’s trim. She didn’t like cutting hair dry but she didn’t dare ask him to wet it considering water was a precious commodity. While he sat silently in the swivel chair anchored to the dining-room table, she started with the back, snipping a little here, layering a little there. She had one heck of a time keeping her attention on her task, especially when she moved in front of him and faced his remarkable chest peeking out from the towel she’d draped across his broad shoulders. If she didn’t do a better job of concentrating, he’d end up with a reverse Mohawk.

  Fine strands of hair rained down onto the towel and she took the opportunity to periodically brush them away, noting that every time she flicked her fingertips over his chest and belly, his muscles tightened. This had to be the most fun she’d ever had giving a man a haircut.

  “Are you almost done?” Jack’s voice fell somewhere between a growl and a plea, the first words he had spoken since she’d begun.

  “Patience, Ahab. You have a lot of hair.”

  “Until you got your hands on it,” he muttered.

  She could continue for an hour and still have plenty to work with. “You know something, your boat really needs a name.”

  He glanced up at her, a hint of irritation in his expression. “It has a name.”

  She slid her fingers through his hair, enjoying the soft texture against her palm. “So what is it?”

  “Hannah.”

  A woman’s name. Lizzie probably shouldn’t be surprised at all, nor should she be jealous. But she had to admit she was. Naming a boat after a woman was as intimate as having a woman’s name tattooed on a body part. She wondered if, in fact, Jack did sport a tattoo in places she had yet to see. Maybe she should do a full body search. That thoroughly nice thought made her shiver.

  “Is Hannah someone special?” Her voice came out sounding like an animated version of her own, high-pitched, nervous.

  “Yeah, she was.”

  Was? It dawned on Lizzie that maybe this Hannah person, whom she already disliked strongly, possibly broke Jack’s heart. Maybe that was why he’d taken to the sea, alone. Maybe he was still pining away for the shrew.

  All the more reason to take his mind off his troubles, Lizzie decided. Of course, he hadn’t been all that cooperative. Somehow, someway, she would concoct a plan, a means to convince him that they might as well make good use of their time together. She doubted anything permanent could ever exist between them so she would settle for temporary. An affair.

  She’d never had an affair and perhaps that was why it sounded so harsh, unfeeling. Still, emotions would have to remain absent from the mix. No problem. After all, she prided herself on her sound emotional stability. So what if she cooed over kittens, cried over movies, sighed at love songs? She vowed to remain grounded.

  Remaining grounded—literally—became a chore as the boat pitched, swayed, and then pitched again. She fell forward against Jack with her breasts practically adhered to his face.

  He nudged her back and stared up at her, his palms planted firmly on her hips, his silver eyes dark and intense. “You’re dangerous, Dorothy.”

  She anchored her hands on his broad shoulders—solid strength curved against her palms. She attempted a weak smile. “I dropped the scissors behind the chair, so I’m not armed.”

  “Yeah, you are.” His gaze homed in on her breasts. “Your body should be registered as a lethal weapon.”

  Lizzie’s body felt like a miniature grenade, ready to detonate if he so much as touched her intimately. She wished he would touch her. She wished he would give up that steel resolve and pretend for one second that she was a desirable woman.

  As if he sensed her longing, he traced a slow line with one long finger down the crevice between her breasts, exposed by the sagging placket on the shirt that was much too big. His eyes followed the movement and so did Lizzie’s. With fascination she watched his blunt fingertip move up again, then down again, tracing the chain at her neck before stopping at the middle of her chest where the button created a barrier. With little effort, he freed the button, then another, leaving the fabric gaping, leaving Lizzie winded and wanting as she’d never wanted before. An odd little sound escaped her mouth.

  He brought his gaze to her lips and his hand back to her hip, probably to push her away. Lizzie kept her eyes pinned on his, challenging him to continue. She saw a glimmer of hesitation before he parted the fabric wider then lowered his head to streak his tongue down the path his finger had taken.

  Oh my, oh my, oh my… Oh, yes.

  “You’re too damn tempting,” he murmured against her chest.

  The next thing Lizzie knew, she was being swept up into Jack’s strong arms. He fell back onto the couch, bringing her across his lap. The towel had fallen away from his shoulders during the move and Lizzie took advantage of the moment while Jack took her mouth with a breath-robbing kiss. He wrapped one arm around her shoulders, holding her close against him while his right hand gently kneaded her breasts beneath the opening of the gaping shirt. She sent her own hand on a journey across the mat of hair on his chest, her fingertips playing his nipple much the same as he played hers. His tongue made passes between her lips almost in sync with the sway of the boat.

  Jack dropped his hand from her breast and much to Lizzie’s delight, slipped it beneath the shirt’s hem. Never before had she wanted a man so badly, wanted him to soothe the intimate ache, which seemed exactly where Jack was heading as he palmed her abdomen. Then as if her belly had grown fangs, he pulled his hand back.

  He broke the kiss and looked at her for a long, torturous moment. “We can’t do this.”

  As easily as he’d scooped her into his arms, he slid from beneath her and stood, leaving her sprawled out on the sofa, the shirt gaping and her legs parted in a very unladylike manner.

  “Where are you going?” she asked, her voice laced with frustration and unanswered need.<
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  He snapped up his shirt from the sofa’s arm and slipped it back on. “I’m going to try to start the boat.”

  Obviously he was bent on leaving her in a state of sexual suspension. Anger took the place of unanswered desire. “You’re a tease, Ahab.”

  He scowled. “I’m smart, Dorothy. You and I both know this is stupid. You’re pregnant.”

  She scooted up on the sofa and planted her feet on the floor. “I’m not deceased.” She leveled a pointed look at his distended fly. “And neither are you.”

  “I don’t intend to get tangled up with anyone.”

  “Is that emotionally or physically?” she answered with defiance in her tone.

  “Neither.”

  Lizzie came to her feet and stared at him straight on. “Why is that, Ahab? Did someone break that heart of yours?”

  He streaked a hand over his shadowed jaw. “No, Dorothy, no one broke my heart.” He said it with conviction, leading Lizzie to believe she’d been on the wrong track where his past was concerned.

  She took a determined step toward him. “Then why did you bail out from life? What drove you here, all alone on your boat?”

  “I like being alone. I don’t want any complications.”

  “I didn’t ask you for forever, did I? It’s only a means to pass the time, Ahab. A man and a woman taking pleasure in each other. Nothing more complicated than that.” Something that was totally alien to Lizzie, and probably the reason why the declaration sounded phony, even to her own ears.

  He sent her a suspicious look. “That’s all you want is sex? I don’t believe it.”

  “You don’t know anything about me.”

  “I know that I’m not the man you need.”

  “I never said I needed a man, at least not in the way you’re suggesting.”

  His ensuing smile was cynical. “Maybe not, but you’re the kind of woman who can make a man forget who he is, what he wants.”

  She moved before him and touched his cheek. “What do you want, Jack Dunlap?”

  “My solitude.”

  With that he turned and made his way toward the bow, leaving Lizzie alone to deal with her disappointment. But she had to admit he was probably right; he wasn’t the man she needed. In fact, she had never needed a man other than her father. She hadn’t needed a man to have a baby, at least not all of one. Then why did she have this almost desperate need for Jack Dunlap? Because she had basic feminine needs? If so, Lizzie had no clue why he’d been the one to arouse those desires.

  But it was more than that. She’d always been a sucker for lost souls, and Jack Dunlap was as lost as any man she’d ever known. Oh, he had tried to hide it beneath an iron facade, but Lizzie had witnessed a glimpse of vulnerability, of pain, in his eyes.

  Needing a diversion, Lizzie opted to continue with her plan to enjoy the sunshine while it lasted, even if her attitude had taken a sour turn. She strode into the bathroom, yanked an oversize towel from the cabinet then rummaged around for some sunscreen. Not finding any, she decided she would have to limit her time outside. Besides, Jack had already generated enough heat within her; she didn’t need to go totally up in flames.

  Lizzie stomped onto the bow and shook out the towel with a vengeance then laid it on the fiberglass deck, muttering an inventory of insults aimed at her very stubborn host. She paused for a moment to consider her clothing situation. She had no swimsuit, only a bra and panties. Her bra was still hanging in the bathroom. She could go retrieve it, or she could go topless. Who would see her anyway? The captain of the ship, but only if he decided to seek her out, and she doubted he would. Even if he did, he’d already seen just about everything.

  Lizzie stretched out on her belly wearing only her panties, her cheek resting on her folded arms. The sun beat down on her back as her heart beat a crazy rhythm in her chest when she recalled their interlude. Jack had wanted her—that much she knew—a least from a physical standpoint. He’d said she was tempting. Apparently not tempting enough to entice him into a little extracurricular activity. Chances were, he’d probably had plenty of women in his bed. Women who were more experienced, more sophisticated, more beautiful.

  Lizzie wasn’t really any of those things, nor had that bothered her before. She’d been happy just being herself, and she still was. If Jack didn’t appreciate her qualities, too bad. After they were safely back on land, she would leave him behind to start over, make plans, make a good life with her child.

  Who could ask for more?

  Lizzie could. Oh yes, she could. She couldn’t deny that having a real father for her baby—a wonderful father like her own—was nagging at her. She couldn’t deny that having the love and respect of a good man was, too. Even though it was silly to consider that Jack might be that man, she refused to give up on him even if he’d given up on himself. If she couldn’t gain his complete attention, then perhaps she could learn more about him, learn what made him so sad, aid in bringing him back to the land of the living. It was definitely worth a try.

  If Jack could harness the energy below his belt to power the boat, they could return to port in record time. Several times he’d glanced out the windows of the interior pilothouse at Lizzie who was lying half-naked within his view, to his libido’s detriment. She had no idea he was watching her, didn’t have a clue what she was doing to him at that moment. She was driving him nuts with her questions, driving him to distraction with her sensuality. Worse, she was threatening to make him let down his guard.

  Five more seconds on the sofa and he would have known every inch of Lizzie’s knockout body. If he hadn’t had the presence of mind to remember she was pregnant, right now he would probably have his hands all over her and his mind on anything but their predicament.

  The sensual visions kicked his body back to life and caused him to release a harsh groan. He didn’t need this. He didn’t need her. Hell, he didn’t need anything except a return to his normal life. He did need to make sure that she was safe while in his care. But only safe, and that didn’t include sex.

  Regardless, he couldn’t seem to stop imagining what it would be like to make love to her. Would all that passion for living she retained manifest itself during lovemaking? Probably, and a very dangerous prospect. He’d been serious when he’d told her that he didn’t want any complications. Lizzie could be one giant complication. She already was. Not only did he want her, he liked her. He liked her smile, her wit, her easy manner. And man, she had eyes that could stop him dead in his tracks. Eyes that damn well seemed to see through him. Everything he should avoid in a woman. But he couldn’t avoid her.

  He also couldn’t keep focused on anything but the vision she presented outside the tinted window as she lay stretched out before him—the curve of her back, the dip of her spine, the rise of her buttocks highlighted in great detail by the sun’s rays. At least she was on her stomach, keeping her fantastic breasts from view.

  She raised her head for a moment and stared up at the sky. Then she abruptly stood, snatched up the towel and sprinted off the deck. Jack wondered if she’d noticed the bank of clouds moving toward them and maybe feared being struck by lightning. If anyone deserved that fate, it would be him, considering his questionable thoughts.

  “Ahab!” echoed from down below followed by a flurry of footsteps.

  Jack moved from the helm and stood at the top of the three steps leading to the pilothouse. “Up here.”

  Lizzie appeared at the bottom of the landing and stared up at him, the towel wrapped around her and excitement flashing in her blue-green eyes. “I saw a plane flying above us!”

  The best news he’d had in days. “Coast Guard?”

  She frowned. “No. I think it was a private plane. I didn’t stay on the deck long enough to make out too many details.”

  “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 fac
e. “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 meantime, 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.