Beautiful Tempest(52)

"Not really. My parents were married when I was born."

"To each other?"

That was a bit harsh and even earned her one of his rare frowns. She reminded herself to sheathe her claws. That she was usually painfully blunt wasn't going to help with her be-nice plan.

So she offered nonchalantly, "You know the name bastard has more'n one meaning." 

"Yes, something foul you'd wipe off your boots," he replied curtly.

"Well, I wouldn't say-"

"Are you apologizing?" He raised a black brow while he waited for her answer. She hated conceding, even with friends, let alone with him! However, she could wave half of a white flag, even if it did cause a slight blush. "I'm dropping the subject, Damon."

He nodded graciously-at least one of them could be!-and stood up and wiped his face. Jackie put everything in the wide bowl and left.

"What was the task you mentioned?"

"At your suggestion, I asked my cook about a cream for my sunburn. You were right, it does hurt a lot more today." He tapped the small jar on his desk before he removed his shirt. "And since it was your idea, I didn't think you'd mind applying it."

She winced at how red he was in the bright light of day. But touch him? The thought flipped her insides a little. It was her idea. And it did fit in line with her be-nice-to-him plan. But it might also work with the seduction idea she was still toying with. . . .

She stood up and came around to the back of his chair, deliberately brushing against him as she leaned forward to pick up the jar. She had to clamp her mouth shut on her own gasp when her breast pressed against his shoulder. Maybe skip the seduction part! She hadn't thought that through yet, and it was a double-edged sword if she ended up being the one seduced!

She started to apply the cream to his shoulders, asking softly, "Are you sure you trust me to do this?"

"Mort's hands would do more damage than good. You've got soft hands, Jack."

He trusted her. He had to know with a burn under her fingers, she could make this painful. She didn't. She carefully spread the cream over his back and upper arms, aware that her breathing was getting erratic. She wasn't going to be able to finish, not when this was caressing of the most tender sort and having more effect on her than him! But she was wrong. His head leaned back, rested between her breasts. She could see that his eyes were closed, hear that his breathing was deeper. She was mesmerized for a moment; her hands stilled.

"Don't stop."

She stuck her fingers in the jar again and concentrated on something else. With him so relaxed, this was the perfect opportunity for her to get some answers.

"You've been treating me differently this time. Why?"

He stood up to put both of her creamy hands on his upper chest and held them there, his hands on the back of hers to guide them slowly across his skin. She was staring transfixed at what he was doing, so she didn't see his expression when he said, "Isn't it obvious? I'm attracted to you."

Nonplussed, she yanked her hands back. "You expect me to believe that when you've abducted me twice so you can lure my father to his death-where I'll no doubt die, too? And my poor mother-"

"Now you're jumping to conclusions and thinking the worst of me."

"Why shouldn't I?!"

He started to answer, then closed his mouth, put his shirt back on, and went to the door, telling the guard, "Bring it in."

A sailor carried in a wooden tub. It was barely bigger than the bottom half of a barrel, which it might have been, but it was still a tub.

"You think a bath will calm me down?" she fumed.

"It might if you let me bathe you."

She fried him with her eyes.

He sighed, feigned no doubt, before remarking, "I confess, this is one thing I didn't think ahead on, so no fancy tub for you. But this one will do, yes?"

"I think we had this discussion last night," she retorted.


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"That was before I put a latch on the door for you. But be warned, if you think to keep it latched, the door will be removed and there will be no more baths."

She laughed for the first time in front of him. "As tempting as it might be to lock you out, I'm not starving myself this time around, and your door doesn't have a crack wide enough to slide plates through. You won't have to remove the door."

Four sailors came in with filled buckets. Actual sailors, not pirates this time, hair neatly cut, no flamboyance in their clothes, deferential nods in her direction, and not armed. She wondered why Damon had such a mix of men in his crew, but she was too eager to have her bath to ask about that now. When they were done, she walked over to test the water and found that it had been heated, then sucked the water off her finger and laughed again.