Rick. Richard. No, he was right, Rick suited him better.
“Well, ’night then,” she said as she lay down and rolled onto her side.
“’Night. Sweet dreams,” he said. But the way he said it made it clear that, despite
backing off when she’d freaked at his closeness, he hoped her dreams were anything
but sweet.
It felt as if she lay there for the longest time, listening to the hush of Rick’s
breath moving in time with the island’s ocean rhythm.
At least he doesn’t snore. You can chalk that one up on the maybe-he’s-got-a-white-horse-in-his-bag
list too.
Felicity smiled wryly at her own romanticism. Was he really Prince Charming material?
Despite her initial shark categorization, the Rick that lay beside her did have a
softer side. He’d jumped to make sure she wasn’t really hurt when she’d tried with
the fire, had obviously been close to his brother, and heck, a sense of humor did
plenty to win her over every time. So, for a new list: the Prince McCashin list. She
chewed on a piece of hair as she ticked off his attributes: decent bod, interesting
ink, great smile, treasured books, cared for family, loads of cash, carries chocolate
in case of emergencies, skin feels amazing… Felicity stopped her categorization.
What am I doing?
She spat out the strand of chewed hair and put a finger to her lips. If she was at
the trying-to-turn-him-into-Prince-Charming stage, her body was definitely winning
out over her mind.
Making lists over a guy I’ve known for two days and won’t see again after tomorrow?
Idiocy.
She listed the downside: he’s a VIP passenger.
Full stop.
The first item on the list was the only one she needed.
And he’s probably married. With kids
. She sighed. Her reputation for sass and good gossip on board put up a good show,
but that was all it was: a show that kept people from digging too deeply where it
was all dark and empty.
She might have been able to talk the talk on board, but her walk was definitely wobbly.
Michaela knew that, had understood it. Felicity sighed at the thought of her friend’s
life, a happily ever after if ever there was one.
It was what she wanted. Didn’t everyone? But there’d never been enough sparks with
the men on board to break Felicity out of self-preservation mode. Now here she was,
making lists over a guy she barely knew but who despite his hard first impression,
seemed like someone she’d
like
to get to know. Get to know in way too many ways.
Rolling over, she peered at his sleeping face, warmed and illuminated by the firelight.
Could the connection with him mean he reminded her subconsciously of someone she knew?
Maybe a work crush at Biogena that she’d never acted on, or even that secret husband
she sometimes imagined in her diary? Her hand reached out to ruffle a strand of dark
hair that was way too perfectly arranged and she caught herself just in time. Of all
the men in all the world, some rich stranger was the one who had managed to find the
cracks in her self-preservation shell?
You’re full of great ideas, ain’t you, girl
? Her mind knew he was dangerous if she valued her job, but her body just didn’t seem
to care.
Stuffing her hands under her head, she let her eyes do the caressing instead. Even
in sleep Mr. McCashin seemed ready to take on the world around him and make it his.
His dark eyebrows weren’t exactly drawn in a frown, but their firm line promised he
would have a clear and ready answer for her as soon as the chocolate eyes below flickered
open. Long lashes rested on high cheekbones, and the shadows of the fire only served
to highlight the strong planes of his cheeks.
A little bit more Batman every hour, Cashypants.
His jaw wasn’t exactly chiseled like the Caped Crusader’s, but it was strong, dependable,
resolute. Just at that moment, he clenched his teeth and the muscles flexed, making
it clear just how strong that jaw really was. When he kissed, there would be no mercy
from a jaw like that, and no respite from lips that looked warm, soft…
Cold shower. Cold shower. Cold shower.
Felicity rolled away from him and stared out into the dark night. If she didn’t take
her own advice and get some sleep, she’d be a wreck tomorrow. Saggy eye bags were
just what she needed to go with her bird’s-nest hair.
Her dream was full color, full noise. A shirtless Rick strode up the dirt path ahead
while she watched the sun glint off his gleaming muscles. His tattoos shifted with
him and she studied their lines and curves. They were equations, she was sure of it.
Hexagonal boxes, letters, numbers, lines. A mess of chemical formulas, she realized,
stylized so they interwove and almost danced. If she wasn’t looking at it, she wouldn’t
have believed something as dull a chemicals could be so beautiful, but moving as they
did over his skin, the tattoos were a true work of art. He turned back to her and
gone was the slick shark she’d first met. Rick’s hair was tousled from days swimming
in the sea, his face no longer pale but a richer olive tone, and his smile every bit
as warm and inviting as a fantasy man’s could be. This Rick was much more Captain
Jack Sparrow than Batman, and she liked it.
“It’s not much farther,” he said. “Keep up, slowpoke.”
She smiled and, rather than complain at the steep incline, ran to catch up with him.
Letting him take her hand in his, there was none of the knife-in-toaster reaction
she got in real life. Only a warmth that started in the palm of her hand and threaded
its way up through her veins until it spread throughout her whole body. She looked
up into Rick’s eyes and saw the honey at their edges turn gold before he ducked his
head to nip her ear with his teeth. “It must be time for lunch soon. I’m starving,”
he said as Felicity batted him away, her free hand enjoying the feel of his skin,
her heart easy with his open desire.
They stopped at a spring and Rick picked her up and strode into the water, plunging
them both waist-deep in the ice-cold pool. Felicity squeaked, the breath stolen from
her, her strength subdued by Rick’s arms. When he crushed his mouth over hers, she
answered hungrily, letting his lips and darting tongue warm her from the inside out.
Felicity hiccup-sighed and rolled over. “Cheeky,” she murmured, even as her dream
of Rick melted into the night. The sensation of warmth stayed with her and she snuggled
down into it, letting its comfort surround her. It was hot, familiar, tempting. Gentle
breath whispered in her ear and she arched her neck to let it move through her hair.
Lips traced the line of her earlobe and teeth nibbled over her earring stud. “Mmmm,
nice,” she mumbled. The warmth moved from cradling her waist, up her side and onward
until it seeped through her damp shirt and bikini top to the soft flesh of her breast.
Moving her hips, she wriggled backward to capture more heat and felt…
Eyes open, wide awake, Felicity froze.
That better be a banana.
Carefully, oh so carefully, Felicity tilted her head to see where the warmth was coming
from. A hand lay curled possessively on her breast. A hand attached to a linen-clad
arm.
Crapballs. What do I do, what do I do? Take control, lady, get the hell outta there!
He’s probably married, apart from anything else.
Taking his wrist, she gently, gently, lifted Rick’s arm and, while she still held
it in the air, wriggled out from underneath it. Setting it down on the ground between
them, she exhaled, not realizing she’d held her breath the whole time.
“I’ll fix it. All of it.” The words came out strangled, but Felicity felt his certainty
and purpose nonetheless.
“I’m sure you will,” she said, hushing him with a tentative pat on the shoulder. He
took a deep breath in and his eyes fluttered open.
“Felicity.”
Her skin leaped as if his hands were still on her. “Yes, I’m here, go back to sleep.”
He rubbed at his eyes. “I was dreaming,” he murmured, still in the fog of sleep. Then
as if he’d just had a shot of coffee, his voice changed and became wide-awake. “We’re
still on the island?”
“Yes. We’re still stranded.”
Pause. Then, “Perfect. You won’t mind if I do this, then?” Cupping her chin with his
large palm, Rick McCashin pulled her to him and, as he had in her dream, covered her
mouth with his.
“Hang on. This isn’t…” Felicity fought the words out between his kisses, but her body
worked against her, flattening itself against his, until the heat of everything he
could offer won and she gave in to her desire, letting the kiss peel her back to a
longing she’d forgotten she was capable of. Pushing her hands through his hair, she
deepened the kiss, and when his tongue claimed hers, she let it. He was so demanding.
So delicious. Rick responded instantly to every little nuance, shifting his head to
make his kiss deeper. When she let a moan sneak out, he nipped her lip. She was in
danger of losing herself. Was kissing always this good?
“Tell me that doesn’t feel right,” he said when he finally released her jaw.
Trying to still the racing of her blood and the clamor it was making banging round
in her ears, Felicity had to concentrate, hard, to work out what Rick had said. Feel
right? Damn, that kiss felt about as perfect as a chocolate-ice-cream-and-cookie sandwich.
But was it the right thing to do? Hells no. “I don’t know what your definition of
right is, but attacking a stranger in the middle of the night isn’t exactly an Oxford
English explanation, if you ask me.”
“You didn’t like it?”
Just say it. Say you didn’t like it and he’ll calm the heck down.
But she hesitated too long.
“You enjoyed it. Admit it.”
“It wasn’t altogether bad, I’ll give you that.”
“It was a hell of a lot better than not bad, young lady,” he growled.
“Young lady, am I now?”
You’re going to flirt with him? In the middle of the night? After a kiss like that?
“I’d prefer we didn’t blur the boundaries between passenger and crew. I shouldn’t
have let you kiss me. I’m sorry. It was entirely unprofessional. Won’t happen again.”
“Now that would be a criminal shame. And anyway, you were kissing me at least half
of the time. And it was all you at the end there.”
“Whatever.”
“As for fraternizing with passengers—”
She put a hand to his chest as he leaned in toward her again. “Sorry. But my contract
is very clear.”
He wriggled closer and Felicity sat up to try to get some distance.
Rick huffed out a breath. “I’m pretty sure I don’t count as a passenger. In fact,
I know I don’t. So if that’s your only argument…”
Felicity pushed the hand that had cupped her chin again away. “Not so fast. Stranded
on a tropical island with a good-looking stranger? Nothing like that ever happens
to me.”
“Good-looking stranger, hey? Well, that’s a good sign.”
Duh. Good one.
And really, how would she know if this happened to her or not? Maybe despite the
lonely trappings of her workaholic life, despite the logic that said it was impossible,
it happened to her all the time.
You’ve already thought of that. Man magnet you are not, lady, come on, a little reality
check here would be good. You’re clutching at straws.
Having an affair with a sexy stranger wasn’t exactly going to move her on in the
finding-her-new-self stakes either. “We’ve already had this conversation. I know you
know that you’ve been amply rewarded with well-proportioned features.”
“Sheesh, when you compliment a guy, you sure go all out, don’t you?”
Shut up.
She was supposed to be warning him off, not stifling a laugh. She waved him away.
“Whatever. We can’t do this. I can’t do this. You could be married for all I know.”
He paused. “I’m not married.”
Damn. That would have been way easier.
“Why did you pause then?”
“I was engaged. But she left me.”
It was her turn to let the night fill in with silence. “Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.” Felicity’s
heart contracted. Jilted. That had to hurt.
About as much as being cheated on by Brendon
. Maybe they had more in common than she’d allowed. “So you’re looking for a rebound
fling?”
“I wouldn’t put it quite as callously as that, but you can’t deny that destiny seems
to have dealt us a rather neat little package. Seems rude to ignore it.”
She snorted. “Destiny?”
“Okay, maybe not destiny. But you said it yourself, stranded on a tropical island
with a good-looking stranger…and there’s no one around to tell. If it sounds a bit
fairy-tale, maybe it’s because it is.” His hand found hers as he spoke, and his gentle
stroking sent lightning through her nerve endings.
Maybe?
If she went into it with her eyes open, if she allowed herself this night, this one
crazy romantic night, maybe she’d be able to let go of the hurt Brendon had planted
so deep inside her. Maybe it
would
be a good step in finding her new self. Michaela
had
told her to live a little. The kiss had felt amazing. Made her feel alive. Perfect.
And the way he stroked her hand—that was doing all sorts of crazy-nice things to her
insides, emotions included. She shook her head to break the spell. “If it sounds too
good to be true, it almost certainly is.”
“If you’re willing to admit it sounds good, you might as well give in to it. Live
a little. Enjoy the romance of it.”
Stranded on a tropical island with a good-looking stranger…
“The captain isn’t going to have my ass? You’re like a business guest rather than
a passenger or something?”
“I’m definitely fair game,” he said and waited.
Neither of them spoke but Felicity shuddered as the charge in the air ran its fingers
up her spine. Maybe he wasn’t Prince Charming, but he’d pass for princely. Stately
and sexy?
As if the strings that had been holding them back were cut at the same moment, they
fell into each other. Rick pulled her down and this time their kiss held no question,
no hesitation. This time the energy of the embrace spread from her lips to engulf
her throat, her chest, her core, and Felicity let all the wound-up tension of the
past five months melt away along with her self-control.