A Dangerous Arrangement (20 page)

She uncurled her legs and he held her waist as she swivelled in the water. Pulling her back against his chest, he used his arm to keep her from floating away and trailed a line of kisses down her neck. She shivered, rested her head against his shoulder, drew in a sharp breath as he stroked her other breast with his free hand.

‘Dean …'

The need in her voice had his brain fogging over. He was rigid against her peachy bottom, the one he hadn't been able to stop thinking about since he'd pulled down some purple lace knickers and jabbed her with the needle.

No.

It had started earlier, in the Mercurial, hips swaying in white jeans as she walked away from him.

Instant attraction.

A recognition.

Fate?

He followed the fragile line of her collarbone, kissing, sucking gently, nipping a little every now and then until she whimpered and quivered in his arms. Wanting to make it good for her, he released her breast, spanned his hand across her smooth stomach and swirled his index finger around her bellybutton. He drew circles on her skin, moving lower and lower, teasing her with each sweep until her body began to alternate between restlessness and tense anticipation. Finally, she arched her hips to meet his descending hand, making it easy for him to slide his fingers under the elastic and reach into her bikini bottoms.

Dean stilled, and his eyes flew open in surprise.

A European wax?

His body hardened to the point of pain.

Jesus! What a surprise from the classical violinist!

‘Oh god!' She moaned the words, gasping as he found the spot he was seeking.

He pressed a kiss to her cheek. ‘Relax, honey.'

Despite the water she was hot at her core, the slickness between her thighs evident by the smooth glide of his fingers. With her body concealed by water he was working blind, discovering her fascinating contours by touch alone. It didn't take long to bring her to the brink, so he eased off before he sent her over the edge, experimenting with the pressure of his fingers, learning how she liked to be stroked—when she liked it fast, or preferred it slow.

But it was all new, and she didn't last long. Too soon, she was biting down on her bottom lip, her breath coming in short little pants, her head restless against his shoulder. And then her back arched, body contracting as a powerful orgasm engulfed her.

He held her through the contractions, kissing her temple, the side of her hair, her smooth cheek. Anyone watching from the yacht would be able to see their heads bobbing in the water and realise Marina was in his arms. That was okay, as long as they weren't aware of what was going on beneath the surface.

He stroked her down, heart pounding, blood surging, his own body on the brink of release. Then, when she drew her legs together, he slipped his hand from that magical place between her thighs, and let her quieten.

When she finally opened her eyes, he tilted her face up to his and kissed her a long thank you. Her lips clung to his, cool, salty, the lingering tenderness suggesting she was feeling something more than lust.

Was he?

They'd known each other a matter of days, though the time had been intense. And in Taormina, he'd been hell-bent on finding out exactly who the big guy with the beard was, and in turn, she'd asked him about Julia, making it quite clear she couldn't get caught up in any messy love triangle.

He thought of the words she'd used when they'd discussed her hair.
My label, my contract, my agent.

She was a star of the classical world, public property with an image to protect. There were management teams and agents advising her, probably micro managing every aspect of her career, and all the while making a tidy living for themselves.

He, by contrast, had a fortune to protect and a new yacht to build. But aside from the dubious tag of ‘eligible bachelor', his private life was his own. He managed his own career, and answered to no-one.

He had to face it. As gorgeous as Marina was, this romantic interlude would only work in the short term. With conflicting schedules and professional commitments they were sure to be on different sides of the globe most of the time.

And he'd seen firsthand the carnage a navy life had brought to his parents. He'd never inflict that kind of long separation on anyone, didn't think he could handle it himself.

Pushing that grim thought from his mind, he kissed Marina's cheek and set her on her feet, held her at arm's length when she turned around.

Eyes still dark with arousal, she leaned over and pressed her soft lips against his chest. ‘What about you?'

Considerate as well.

Before she could go on, he took hold of her hand and began wading towards the shore.

‘Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'll keep.'

Chapter Twenty-Three

‘Leave the tender out.' Dean tossed Alain the bow line as they arrived back at the
Orion
. ‘We might need it again.'

Marina's heart sank at the stark reminder. For a magical hour and a half she'd locked her potential meeting with Victor in a corner of her mind. Now, as Alain grasped her hand and helped her on board, the possibility loomed with all the menace of an electrical storm on a sunny day.

His hand was cold, and Marina let go the moment she was on deck. ‘Thanks.'

His expressionless face and pale blue eyes made her uneasy. She suspected he was a man who said little, and saw a lot.

‘You're welcome.'

Shivering a little in her swimsuit, she managed to get two buckles on her life jacket undone by the time Dean climbed aboard. Despite the yacht being a short distance from the beach, he'd insisted she wear it.

‘Let's meet in half an hour.' He undid the last buckle, slid the jacket from her shoulders and passed it to Alain.

‘How much time do we have?'

He checked his dive watch as she wrapped a towel around her shoulders. ‘Ship docks in under an hour. I'll get Danika to bring food to the saloon.'

He dropped a kiss on her forehead, and as she turned away she heard him instructing Alain to top up the fuel in the tender.

Marina hurried towards her stateroom wondering if the younger staff members knew of the difficulties facing the company, and of her own innocent involvement. According to Danika, she and Alain were the only full-time staff employed on the
Orion
, with Rask doubling as an extra pair of hands when needed.

Back in her room, she ran a hot shower and peeled off her bikini in front of the mirror. She smiled a little as she undid the top. Only ten minutes ago Dean had been helping her back into it.

She stepped out of her bikini bottoms and tossed them into the shower cubicle. Initially, she'd thought it a pity she and Dean had met in such diabolical circumstances, but now she was thankful. They'd discovered so much about each other in a short period of time, learned to trust each other with the truth.

Now they were joining forces to bring down a common foe.

She turned on the water and stepped beneath the spray. At a personal level, they hadn't played games or sidestepped around their attraction. They'd acknowledged it, and been honest with each other. When the time came to admit she couldn't swim, she'd had the confidence to do it.

And true to form, Dean had done something about it.

She unplaited her hair and picked up the shampoo bottle, a delicious excitement welling up inside her as she relived their making out at the beach. They hadn't gone all the way, but she was sure Dean was going to make a formidable lover.

Marina curled her toes and hoped Victor wasn't waiting for her in Portofino. It was selfish, but she wanted to spend the night with Dean, and if they arrested Victor today there was every chance of that not happening.

Inhaling the aroma of nutmeg, honeysuckle and ginger, she shampooed her hair. Would she get another day, another two, before Victor decided to show his traitorous face? She wasn't due home yet, so it made little difference to her. But for Dean's paralysed company, every passing day meant the loss of substantial earnings.

She rinsed her hair, quickly used the shower gel then turned off the taps. Wrapping her hair in a towel, she sent a silent thank you to Vlad, her body vibrant and alive from her outing at the beach. If he hadn't insisted on her taking that gondola ride, Dean Logan may never have found her in Venice.

A hollow feeling settled like a weight in the pit of her stomach, but she pushed the thought aside and reached for the hair dryer. Despite the daunting challenges that lay ahead, Dean's ‘can do' attitude had infused in her a growing sense of optimism.

Like all was not lost.

And anything was possible.

***

Twenty minutes later she was in the saloon, dressed in knee-length denim shorts and a top, her hair three parts dry. Her phone lay on the coffee table in the saloon, switched to loudspeaker. Beside it was a recording device, set up by Rask should Victor phone. The USB stick was in a small handbag slung diagonally across her chest.

An extra table had been set up by the port side window, laden with sandwiches, drinks and cakes.

They were settling in for a long wait.

Marina fiddled with her bag and looked at Rask. ‘Where's Dean?'

Holding a phone in each hand, Rask positioned a wireless receiver in his ear. ‘I think he's taking a call.'

‘I'm right here,' a deep voice said from the doorway.

He was virtually unrecognisable in an ill-fitting blue Hawaiian shirt printed with palm trees and yellow frangipanis and a pair of knee-length shorts. Trainers and a Yankees cap completed the outfit.

Marina's heart swelled at the sight of him.

‘I raided Rask's wardrobe. What do you think?'

She exchanged amused glances with Rask. ‘As a Red Sox fan, the cap's the most offensive.'

Dean winked and headed for the sandwiches. ‘The trainers and sunnies are mine.'

‘I take it you're going into Portofino with me, disguised as a tourist with questionable dress sense?'

‘You think Victor will recognise me?'

Marina smiled, relieved she'd have him nearby. She thought he'd stay with the
Orion
's tender. ‘Not a chance.'

‘How'd it go?' Rask spoke to Dean's back as he piled sandwiches on his plate.

‘Just as we thought.' He glanced over his shoulder. ‘I paid the thousand bucks. The files are still encrypted.'

‘Son of a bitch,' Marina murmured.

Rask turned and looked at her. ‘We expected as much. It's confirmation the encryption was a smokescreen for getting the designs out of the country. I don't want to underestimate our friend because he has serious skills I'm lacking, but I'll bet it hasn't crossed his mind that we might have the designs back.'

‘Not to mention Marina!' Dean said, coming back with a laden plate. ‘I agree. It would be natural for him to assume I'd go home.'

Marina thought of the bulletins she'd watched on TV. ‘If he's caught any of the America's Cup coverage, the reports would corroborate that.'

‘True. Normally the media invent things about me because of a lack of information. This time they've done me a favour.'

‘Why
didn't
you go back?' She'd wondered about that herself.

Dean's eyes cut to Rask then back to her. ‘Hektor maintains close ties with the police, that's how we gained access to your apartment in Sydney so quickly. When we learned you were in Venice, I decided to intercept you myself.'

He sat on the lounge and stretched out his long legs. ‘Plus, I have a fundamental distrust of the police being able to handle things properly.'

He did have an issue with the police.

What had Rask said earlier?
Our role is to support the police, not take matters into our own hands.

She didn't understand.

She could only accept what he said.

Dean sighed. ‘Look, if all goes well, they'll nab him as soon as he sets foot in the town.'

Suddenly Rask held up his phone. ‘Message from the local police. Ship's due in twenty minutes early. Disembarkation in half an hour.'

Marina tensed, eyes drawn to her phone, heart slugging away in her chest. Earlier, at the beach, everything had seemed so normal, so natural, she'd been lulled into a false sense of security.

But suddenly, everything was very real.

‘Any sightings by the local police?' Dean asked.

‘None yet.'

Dean put his hand on her leg, stroking his thumb over the denim material. ‘Remember, you can pull out if you want to. If you have any reservations, you don't have to meet him.'

‘I'll draw him out in the open if I do.' Unable to sit any longer, Marina got up and walked over to the baby grand. The lid was open, and in the highly polished veneer she saw Dean stand and follow her.

Unaware she could see his reflection, his face was unguarded, his gaze lingering, his lips parted like he wanted to kiss her. And when he reached up and touched her hair, the tenderness in his eyes stole her breath away.

‘You opened the lid.'

She continued to watch his reflection.

He smiled a little. ‘I did.'

She turned, looked into his eyes and trailed her fingertips along his stubbled jawline, this man she was beginning to fall in love with. ‘I have to meet him, Dean, for both our sakes.'

If the police arrested Victor on the spot he wouldn't have time to carry out his threat and expose her, and once he was in custody, maybe he'd give up the passwords and Dean would have his work back.

‘The quicker this is over now, the better.'

Chapter Twenty-Four

As the clock ticked past the four-hour mark, Marina's head began to ache and her chest tighten from shallow breathing.

She tipped back her head, rested it on the back of the lounge and closed her eyes. It was reminiscent of her early years, when stage fright would get the better of her. She wished she could go to her stateroom, practise, lay down—anything but this interminable clock-watching.