The Devil She Knew(14)

Not that she didn't trust him, but she had a better idea. She could  phone the resort on her cellphone and ask Dalton to come and get her.  Then Nate could spend all the time he wanted getting the engine going  and running his test, and she wouldn't have to worry about missing  another flight.

She went into the bedroom and unplugged her phone. Funny, the screen  didn't light up. It didn't come on even when she kept pressing the power  button. Damn.

She found Nate in the galley, pouring cereal into a bowl.

"Want some?" he asked.

"My cell phone's dead, but it was plugged in overnight."

"I've turned the yacht's power off, remember?"

"Can you turn it on for long enough that I can charge my phone?"

"Can't risk it. If the engine goes flat we're dead in the water."

Double damn. "Is your phone still going?"

"It's over there, on the bench." He pointed with his spoon and she picked it up. Nothing.

"Dead." She put it down, resisting the urge to scream. "Let's call the  Coast Guard now. Friday's wedding is really important to me. I need to  get home."

"Anything we turn on will drain the battery, and that includes the  radio. It's nearly flat and if it dies, I won't be able to start the  engine when I fix it."

It was obvious all he wanted was to run his stupid tests. She let out a  long breath. "You promise you'll call the Coast Guard if you can't get  it going?"

His brow creased. "Don't you trust me?"

"Is that a trick question?"

He put his bowl down so he could clap both hands over his heart. "Ouch.  That hurts." Then he stepped forward to rest his hands on her upper  arms. His tone softened. "Listen, we've got, what, about fourteen hours  before your plane leaves? And we're only a couple of hours from Denarau.  Why don't you relax and throw a fishing line over the side in the  meantime. Catch us a fish and we'll eat it once we're on our way."

Unfair. When he was that close and had his hands on her, she couldn't  think, let alone argue. All she could focus on was the way her muscles  loosened when his gaze lingered on her lips. It was a sure-fire way to  drain all the fight right out of her.

"Maybe I could try fishing for a while," she mumbled.

"Thank you."

Now that she'd agreed, she expected him to release her and go back to  his cereal. There was no reason at all why he should stay so close to  her, with his hands on her arms. No reason for his eyes to soften. And  definitely no reason for him to reach up and brush one of her curls away  from where it had fallen over her eye.

He was going to kiss her again.

At the thought, everything inside her turned to liquid. And she knew,  without doubt, that if he did, she wouldn't let any more rational  objections get in the way. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her.  Period.

It wasn't smart to want him. But she couldn't live with this ache  between her legs and this heat in her veins. Besides, his one-time-only  terms suited her too. They could get this inconvenient attraction out of  their systems and go back to their regular lives, which, thankfully,  were thousands of miles apart. No harm, no foul.

"I'll show you were the fishing rods are." He let her go, turned, and went up the steps to the cockpit.         

     



 

She stared after him, blinking. What had just happened? Had she misread what was happening, or had he changed his mind?

Maybe it was a good thing. One thing for sure, she had to get off this boat before she made a decision she was sure to regret.

"Found them." His voice floated down from the deck and she squared her  shoulders and followed. If he could pretend nothing had happened between  them, so could she.

He had a locker open at the stern of the boat, and handed her a fishy-smelling rod.

"I've never fished," she said. "I don't know how."

"Don't worry, I'll show you. First we need some bait."

"Like what?"

"What's left in the cupboards?"

She went into the galley to check. "A packet of crackers. A bottle of  lime cordial. Some noodles. A can of soup. Two cans of tomatoes. A can  of spaghetti. Hot sauce. Soy sauce. A can of hot dogs. Some-"

"That's it. The hot dogs. Cut them into chunks."

She opened the can, grimacing at the meat inside. She'd never been a fan  of hot dogs. Hopefully the fish would like them better than she did.

She sliced them into a bowl and carried it to the deck, her nose wrinkled at the meaty smell.

Nate grinned at her expression. "I'll show you how to bait a hook."

She pretended to pay attention while he demonstrated, then took the rod  and let him show her how to release the reel and run the line out until  it was at the right depth.

"Now what?" she asked, holding the rod awkwardly.

"Now you wait. Hopefully you'll feel something nibble on your bait. If  you do, don't move. If the fish takes it properly, you'll know. The line  will get heavy."

A vision of a giant fish dragging her overboard made her clutch the rod tighter. "How heavy?"

He laughed. "I don't think you're likely to get anything that big. Relax. Sit down if you like. Fishing's a waiting game."

She loosened her grip, and after a few minutes had ticked by, she took  his advice and sat on the deck with the rod resting between her legs.  The sun felt good on her bare skin, but she wished she'd worn her hat.  It was probably only about ten in the morning, but the tropical Fijian  sun was already fierce. The breeze was light and the sea was flat, with  only a soft lap of water against the hull and the nearby rocks.

Probably a good chance to think about what dish she could offer to tempt  the bride to ditch the mini quiches from Friday's menu. She'd planned  to go around the markets when she got home and let the freshest-looking  ingredients make up her mind. But she knew what would be in season, so  it wouldn't be so bad figuring it out here.

It had to be perfect. If she could impress the bride, she might be able  to convince Marianna to change up their menu. Anything less, and she'd  be letting her friend down and blowing her one chance to prove her ideas  could work.

Nate had his back to her, tinkering on the wiring. He'd taken off his  shirt and the muscles in his bare back kept her transfixed. Every  movement bought her attention to a different muscle. First the ridges  that ran up his sides. Then the flatter slabs that started in the back  of his neck and went to the middle of his shoulders. Then the thick  ropes of his triceps that had obviously seen a fair bit of gym time. Her  gaze lingered over his biceps. How was she supposed to concentrate on  Friday's wedding when she had those biceps to look at?

Her rod jerked. She'd been so distracted by Nate's bare torso that it  took her a second to register what had happened. Then she scrambled to  her feet. "I've got a fish!"

Nate came over. "Already? That was quick."

"Actually, I'm not sure. The rod bent over, but now it's not doing anything. How can I tell?"

"Let me check." He took the rod from her and lifted it slowly so some of  the wet line came out of the water, showering shimmering droplets. "If  you do this and it feels heavier than normal, that means you've got a  fish," he explained. "I don't think there's anything on there now  though. Something might have taken a bite but not gotten hooked."

She took the rod back and tested it like he had. Then she wound the line  in, just in case she'd caught a very small fish that didn't weigh much.  When the hook broke clear of the water, there was no hot dog left on  it.

"Something's been snacking on your bait," said Nate. "A good sign. Put  on another piece and try again." He looked over at the locker where the  rods were stowed, and Suzie could tell he was itching to have a go  himself.

She threaded on a piece of hot dog as he'd shown her, and dropped her  line back into the water. When she turned back around, Nate was doing  the same with another rod.         

     



 

"What are you doing?" she demanded. "You need to get the engine going."

He shrugged. "I've almost got it working, so I can take a few minutes to show you how this is done."

"Nate-"

"I'll bet I catch a fish before you do."

She gritted her teeth. The possibility of finally getting to beat him at  something was irresistible. He couldn't be a genius, and good at  everything else as well. She'd already had something nibbling at her  bait. Surely she'd be able to win the bet?

"As long as it's only a few minutes. As soon as I pull up a fish, you have to go straight back to work."

"There should be a prize for winning." Was it her imagination, or did his gaze flicker down her body?

She flushed, a pulse of hot excitement spreading through her at the  thought of making their bet sexual. And if he hadn't teased her by  making her think he was going to kiss her and then walking away, she  might even have suggested it.

"If I win, you call the Coast Guard to come and get me right away," she  said instead. "They can either tow the yacht to the mainland, or just  pick me up."