Part 18 (2/2)

All there. Then he looked around for Gen. Not there. The shark!

”Gen!” he bellowed, tossing the gla.s.ses aside as he staggered to his feet, prepared to go back into that water and pull her from the jaws of death or die in the attempt.

”Right here!” Her head bobbed where she was treading water several feet beyond the surf line.

”Gen, get out of there!” He dashed into the waves. ”Something's in the water! It grabbed me!”

”That was me! I was trying to help you, but you wouldn't let me.”

His forward momentum had carried him right up next to her by the time her explanation penetrated his panic. What was deep water for her was only chest deep for him. ”That was you?”

”Yeah.” Her hair was all slicked back from her face, and although she was a little blurry, she looked wonderful. Kiss-able. ”Sorry if I scared you, Jack, but you looked like you were having problems, and I knew you didn't want to break your gla.s.ses, so I thought maybe I could help. Then I decided I was more hindrance than help, so I left you there and came on out into the water.”

”Why?”

”I... um . . . because.”

Then it occurred to him that she'd have the same needs he had the first thing in the morning, and as a woman, she couldn't exactly stand on sh.o.r.e and aim out into the water. ”Oh.” His cheeks grew warm. ”Right.”

She edged a little closer to him and lifted her face. ”I was flattered that you were so glad to see me this morning.”

His blush got worse. She'd noticed his morning wood.

”Don't be embarra.s.sed, Jack.” She grabbed hold of his arm and pulled herself in close, dose enough that he could feel her b.r.e.a.s.t.s bobbing against his diaphragm, which was chugging in and out like a fireplace bellows. ”It's a compliment to get that reaction first thing in the morning, knowing I must look like a bag lady after all we've been through.”

His tongue felt thick, and so did the recently deflated p.e.n.i.s. ”You look beautiful.''

”So do you.” She wound both arms around his neck. ”Lift me up, Jack. I want to kiss you.”

He wrapped his arms around her and she wrapped her legs around him. A little wiggling on either of their parts and he'd be positioned to connect up all the relevant parts. ”Gen, maybe you'd better not-”

”Oh, we're not actually going to do it.” She lifted herself up and over his now totally rigid p.e.n.i.s. ”But there's nothing wrong with a few water aerobics, is there?”

He groaned as she settled her delicious behind right on top of him. He fit perfectly in that little groove.

”Good morning, Jack,” she whispered, pulling his head down for a kiss.

Of course he had to kiss her. With her mouth hovering so close, kissing her was a given. Then using tongues seemed the next logical step. Soon all sense of his surroundings faded, dissolved by the heat of her mouth and the suggestive motions of her tongue.

Gradually he became aware of another part of her moving. Buoyed by the water, she was sliding her bottom back and forth, gently riding his p.e.n.i.s and adding to the subtle current that already swirled around his b.a.l.l.s. Holy Oceanic o.r.g.a.s.ms, Batman. As long as she'd started the program, he decided to partic.i.p.ate. Cupping a cheek in each hand, he urged her on, a little faster, and a little faster yet, until they were churning up the water like an outboard motor.

She s.h.i.+fted her hips, bearing down a little more on the front part of his shaft, and he figured she might be getting some action, too. Sure enough, she started to whimper, the sound m.u.f.fled by their intense lip-lock.

When she came, he managed to keep them from capsizing, but when he came, they both went under. As they both floated lazily to the surface, he decided this was another Hawaiian thing he'd been missing-water s.e.x. He wondered if condoms stayed on under water. Maybe they should test it.

He cradled her gently while he grinned like an idiot. ”What a way to start the day.”

”Mm.” She stroked the drops of water from his beard. ”Your bristles are softer already.”

”Oh, G.o.d, I didn't give you a rash, did I?” He peered down at her face, which looked a little pink, but not too bad.

”You've been very considerate.” She continued to stroke his face. ”Probably too considerate, seeing as how I've had fun pretending you're a pirate.”

He liked that. Glowering at her as fiercely as he knew how, he tried to think how a pirate would talk. Rough and tough, that's for sure. ”Aye, and a randy pirate I be, too, la.s.sie,” he said in a gravelly voice. He clutched her breast. ”Methinks I'll carry you off to my cave and have my way with you.”

”Again?”

”And again, and again! I can't get enough of you! You drive a bloke crazy!” Then he plunged his face into the water and sucked vigorously on her nipple as she shrieked. When she continued to shriek and struggle, he held her tighter, lifted his head for a breath and went for the other nipple.

”Jack!” She yanked on his hair, hard.

”Hey!” He jerked upward. ”I'm trying to play pirates, here.”

”Shark, Jack!”

With one mighty heave, he threw her as far toward sh.o.r.e as he could. Then he leaped after her without looking behind him. As they both scrambled onto the packed sand above the waterline, panting but unharmed, he revised his views on water s.e.x. From now on, he was only doing it in a swimming pool, and that was final.

Chapter 14.

Annabelle didn't really want to sleep and take a chance on having bad dreams about Genevieve, but she had to admit the cozy little bed and the slight rocking of the boat was powerfully soothing. She kept herself awake by thinking of Matt in the very next room, probably wanting to come in here and keep her company. He wouldn't, of course. He had more common decency than any man she'd ever laid eyes on.

But Matt had s.e.x on his mind-she wasn't blind to that fact. They'd pa.s.sed some time last night playing gin rummy, and Lincoln had tarred and feathered the both of them. All during the game, Matt had been watching her with that certain look in his eye. Annabelle knew that look. On some men it gave her the w.i.l.l.i.e.s, but on Matt it gave her tingly feelings.

Despite all her efforts to stay awake, she must have dozed off sometime after three, because the next time she looked at the small digital clock beside the bed, it was after five. She'd had no dreams that she could remember, no nightmares and no messages that would help lead her to Genevieve.

She'd showered before going to bed, b.u.mping around in the tiny s.p.a.ce and nearly tripping over the ledge when she climbed out. This morning all she had to do was dress, wash her face, brush her teeth, and comb her hair. She'd left all her makeup at home, just bringing lotion. A search and rescue wasn't the place for makeup, and it wasn't like she was trying to attract a man.

Well, she'd attracted one anyway. He didn't seem to care that she wasn't wearing lipstick or mascara. To a woman of forty-one who thought she needed a little help to look pretty, his interest in her plain old self felt nice.

Once she was ready, she peeked out the door. The tiny galley was empty. Beyond that, she heard a twin set of snores. Lincoln and Matt were still sawing logs.

Antsy as she was to get under way, she thought maybe they needed a little more sleep. The three of them had stayed up until one in the morning playing cards, as if n.o.body had wanted to face bad dreams. A few more minutes of peaceful rest would be good for Lincoln, who was a growing boy, and Matt needed to be alert to steer the boat.

But she desperately needed her morning coffee. Within three minutes she had it perking in the galley. Soon afterward she poured herself a full mug, tiptoed between the two bench seats where Matt and Lincoln slept, opened the cabin door, and climbed the steps to the small deck in the back of the boat. The stern of the boat, she reminded herself, wanting to get the words right.

Not another soul was about in the gray mist, and the cool, damp air smelled fishy. Annabelle leaned against a little cupboard that Matt had called a hatch and stared down the line of docked boats as she sipped her coffee. It was Kona coffee because she'd insisted on bringing her own, not trusting Matt to provide a good brand. She firmly believed that anything in this life could be faced if a person had a strong cup of coffee before starting the day.

She'd finished half a cup when a noise made her turn.

Matt came up the steps, a steaming mug in one hand, a long box of store-bought sugar doughnuts in the other. ”Morning.” His voice was still roughened with sleep. He'd dressed for the day in a polo s.h.i.+rt and slacks, but he hadn't shaved. His stubble made him look more like a seaman than ever.

”Morning.” Annabelle cleared the huskiness from her throat. Hers had nothing to do with the time of day and everything to do with how glad she was to see Matt. He'd slept wrong on his hair, giving him a cowlick, which only added to the tenderness she felt for him.

He held up the doughnuts. ”Seeing how picky you are about coffee, you probably don't want these, but you might as well know I have a weakness for preservative-filled junk. You're welcome to share.”

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