The Man Must Marry(23)
He narrowed his eyes. "When have I been anything but up front with you? From the moment you stumbled off that elevator, you've known exactly where I stand."
"I certainly have-right up until Abram left all his worldly possessions to me. Then you were suddenly more than willing to kiss klutzy little me."
He leaned in close, his face only inches from hers. "You are about to go swimming yourself, lady," he said with lethal softness. "I kissed you before any of us knew what was in Bram's will."
Willa refused to lean away. "You are getting off my boat inBristol , Mr. Sinclair."
"You and what army are going to make me?"
"Me and the Coast Guard."
He kissed her.
Again!
Before Willa could even gasp in surprise, he pulled her against his chest and had her in a lip lock. Man, oh, man, if he thought he was going to spend the next five days kissing her and … and …
By God, she'd show him duplicitous.
Willa kissed him back. She leaned into him with the most feminine purr of delight she could muster, kneaded her fingers into his beautifully broad chest, and parted her lips. Willa's hormones started jumping up and down in joy, and she knew-she knew -that if she kept this up too long, she was asking for trouble. Spending five days alone at sea with Sam's beautiful chest and her raging hormones in such close proximity might be more than she could handle.
The arms around her tightened, and the mouth exploring hers got aggressive. Drat the man, he was calling her bluff!
Now what? If she got more aggressive herself, they'd both be naked in two minutes. She'd kiss him as if he was God's gift to women for ninety more seconds, and if he didn't pull away in abject surrender, then she'd … think of something else. She could endure anything for ninety seconds. But she hadn't counted on his equally talented hands, especially the one he slid under her sweater to cup her breast.
She moaned in pleasure.
She'd have to remember not to go braless around him, and just as soon as he stopped kissing her, she was putting one on.
What had she been doing again? Oh, yeah, she was kissing Sam until he cried uncle. So the faker had better back off pretty soon, if he knew what was good for him. And she would have told him exactly that if her mouth wasn't so busy making him sorry he was even born. Sam ran his thumb over her nipple. Willa arched her back, pressing her breast into his palm as she tried
to remember her mission. She didn't think sprawling out on the bench seat, with Sam's wonderful body sprawled on top of her, was what she'd had in mind. But Lord, his weight felt wonderful. It had been so long since she'd been in this position, and it felt so right . What was she supposed to be doing again?
Something about ninety seconds …
The cool air suddenly blowing across her breasts brought her back to her senses, but the incredibly warm mouth that covered one of her nipples sent her right back over the edge. Yup, Sam Sinclair was going to cry uncle any moment now.
"Oh, God, please don't stop," Willa said as she slid her hands under his sweater. She thought she'd died and gone to heaven when her fingers found his soft, deliriously sexy chest hair. Boy, did she love it when a plan came together.
The bow of the boat suddenly dipped, sending a rogue wave splashing over the side and drenching them both. They slid off the bench and landed on the deck with a thud. Willa thoughtfully broke their fall with her body, though Sam did make a halfhearted attempt to keep from crushing her. The smile he gave her was not one of abject surrender.
In fact, it looked perversely triumphant.
"I'm giving you a choice," he said, his voice guttural and his eyes sharp with desire. "Either you go below and put on a bra, or we go below together, take off all our clothes, and crawl into bed."
If she acted affronted, he would likely smile triumphantly again, and if she showed even a hint of how disconcerted his offer made her, he would probably press his advantage and carry her below himself. But if she did what her hormones were screaming for her to do, they'd both be naked, right here on the deck, in front of God and the seagulls.
Dammit, her ex-husband hadn't given her this much trouble.
Willa sensed the RoseWind rising on a wave and timed her move accordingly. At the exact moment the boat crested, she shoved Sam with all her might, using the boat's downward dive to her advantage. Sam went rolling into the rail with a yelp of surprise when they hit the bottom of the trough, and Willa scrambled to her feet, ran to the steps, and simply grabbed the jamb and swung herself below. She turned to close the doors but stopped long enough to watch Sam try to get back on his feet as the RoseWind leaped into another swell. "Hey, landlubber," she called to him. "Why don't you see if you can remember how to rig the spinnaker while I'm changing? We've reached the open ocean, so we'll let this beautiful lady run the wind." She paused for effect. "That is, if you're up for some real sailing."
She closed the doors with a laugh and went hunting for some dry clothes-including a bra.
When he wasn't scrambling, cranking, or hoisting his butt off, Sam spent his much-needed rests gaping
at Willa. He just couldn't believe the woman he'd known for the last four days and the woman standing at the helm were one and the same. She appeared determined to push the RoseWind right to the edge of the boat's limits, utilizing every last centimeter of sail. Sam was beginning to realize that his knowledge of sailing was just a footnote compared with hers. She hadn't been boasting when she'd told him she was a damn fine sailor, and as soon as he got over his amazement, he would tell her so. They were both tethered with safety lines, wearing life vests and dressed in rain gear-not because it was storming but because Willa was attacking the swells like a woman possessed. Or a woman determined to redirect her passion?
She'd blindsided him with her response to his kiss. He'd only been trying to shut her up, and she had turned the tables on him. He hadn't been bluffing when he'd asked her to go below and get undressed; he'd wanted to bury himself inside her so badly he'd almost taken her right there on the deck. Sam staggered to the helm and plopped down onto the bench in utter exhaustion. "This has been a hell of a run, but can we please call it a day, Captain? I'm bruised and beat and in need of sustenance."
She looked down her cute little nose at him, smiled in satisfaction, and nodded toward the bow. "I'll slack off the wind, and you haul in the spinnaker. Then you can go below and start supper."
"You expect me to crew and cook?"
"I expect you to take orders like the stowaway you are."
Sam braced himself against a giant swell that crashed over the side and drenched them both. Willa laughed with delight, and he violently shivered. The crazy woman was having the time of her life.
"Do you own a sailboat, Willa?"
"I do now. And she's a beauty."
"Does your father still own the schooner you grew up on?"
She didn't look at him. "No, the Cat's Tail went down in a violent squall a hundred miles off St. Maarten seven years ago. The crew survived, but my mother and father didn't. The first mate told Shelby and me that Daddy died trying to save Mom."
"I'm sorry. I would have liked to have met Captain Kent and your mom. So," he said, gritting his teeth against the pain of standing up, "do we sail all night or find a place to set anchor?"
"We sail. I'll take the first watch. There's a storm forming off theCarolinas and coming up the coast, and I'm hoping to ride this wind ahead of it and be tucked into Keelstone Cove before it hits."
Sam staggered to the spinnaker winch. Another day like today would surely kill him. He doubted he'd be able to get out of bed in the morning, much less hoist a sail. He called up the very last of his reserves, released the spinnaker line when he felt the sail slacken, and started gathering it up as it fell to the deck, fighting the wind for control of the cloth.